Armenian tradition derives the name of Van from an Armenian king who reigned a little before Alexander the Great, and speaks of an older city founded by Semiramis (Shemiramagerd). This is of course fable; but the Vannic inscriptions (vol. xiii. p. 116) show that the region was the seat of an Armenian kingdom, whose native name was Biaina, as early as the 9th century b.c. In the isolated rock towering above the plain there are numerous galleries, flights of steps, crypts, and cuneiform rock inscriptions, one of which is trilingual, like that of Behistún, and like it relates the deeds of Xerxes, son of Darius. Others are in the Haikan or Old Armenian language; while for others scattered over the district a solution has been sought by Prof. Sayce with doubtful success in the present language of Georgia.

The vilayet of Van, one of the finest but also one of the least developed regions of Asiatic Turkey, lies on the Persian frontier between Erzerum (north) and Baghdad (south). It has an area of 15,000 square miles, with a population of over 1,000,000.

Lake Van.

Lake Van, called Arsissa Palus by the ancients, and also Thos-pitis, from its Armenian name Tosp, is 80 miles long and 30 broad, with a total area of 1500 square miles. Although of smaller extent than Lake Urmia, it contains a much larger volume of water owing to its much greater depth, which is at least 80 feet near Van and still more along the south side. The lake stands about 5400 feet above sea-level on the south Armenian plateau, which is encircled by the lofty ranges that bifurcate west and south from Ararat and culminate in the Sipan-Dagh (12,000 feet) on the north side of the lake. These mountains are clad with dense forests of beech, chestnut, ash, and walnut, while the broad fertile belt between their base and the lake is planted with melon gardens and orchards of plums, peaches, apricots, figs, and pomegranates, festooned with a vine which yields a palatable wine.

Lake Van, which is too brackish to be drinkable for man or beast, is inhabited by a species of blay or bleak, which abound especially about the mouths of the influents, and come to the surface when the spring floods spread over the heavier saline layers. This lake is a completely land-locked basin, or at least has no visible outlet. But the natives speak of underground channels through which it communicates south-westwards with the head-waters of the Tigris, attributing to the occasional obstruction of these channels the great oscillations of level that have undoubtedly occurred in past and recent times. In the 17th century and again about 1840 the water rose from 10 to 12 feet, and is even now (1888) rising. Lake Erchek perhaps marks its extreme eastern limit in former times. Lake Van is also indirectly connected with the Euphrates through the little Lake of Nazik, which lies west of the Sipan-Dagh, on the water-parting between the lacustrian and fluvial basins, and which by a rare phenomenon sends emissaries to both. The narrow part of Lake Van, which runs for nearly 40 miles towards the north-east, and gives the lake somewhat the appearance of a frying-pan, is very shallow, and was once, according to tradition, a fertile plain. The lake is not regularly navigated. Scattered along the south-east shore are a few picturesque islets, one of which, Aktamar, is the seat of an Armenian patriarch.

See W. Allen Butler, Martin Van Buren, Lawyer, Statesman, and Man, New York, 1862.

In 1620 we know that Van Dyck was working with Rubens, for on 20th March, in making arrangements with the Antwerp Jesuits for the decoration of their church, the great master is allowed to avail himself of his pupil’s assistance, and obtains for him the promise of a picture. This proof of Van Dyck’s personal reputation is fully confirmed (17th July) by a correspondent of the earl of Arundel, who speaks of Van Dyck as a young man of one and twenty whose works are scarcely less esteemed than those of his master, and adds that, his relations being people of considerable wealth, he could hardly be expected to leave his home. Van Dyck was, however, thus persuaded, for on 28th November Sir Toby Mathew mentions the artist’s departure to Sir Dudley Carleton, adding that he is in receipt of an annual pension of £100 from the king. There is evidence of Van Dyck’s presence in London till the end of February 1621. He is first mentioned in the order-books of the Exchequer on the 17th of that month as receiving a reward of £100 “for special service by him performed for His Majesty,” and on the 28th, “Antonio van Dyck, gent., His Majesties servant, is allowed to travaile 8 months, he havinge obtayneid his Ma ties leave in that behalf, as was signified by the E. of Arundell.” What Van Dyck did in London is not known. Among his numerous paintings still preserved in English houses one only is admitted as belonging to the period of this first visit, a full-length portrait of James I. in the royal collection. That he was at the time a portrait painter of the rarest merit may easily be seen from his own likeness of himself when still quite young and beardless, in the National Gallery (London), in the Pinakothek at Munich, and in the private collections of the duke of Grafton and Sir Richard Wallace. In this last admirable specimen the young painter has represented himself in the character of Paris. Early paintings by Van Dyck are certainly not scarce in British galleries; and at Dulwich there is his admirable Samson and Delilah, wrongly ascribed to Rubens.

Van Dyck is supposed to have profited by his leave of absence to visit Paris and The Hague; but it is much more probable that the eight months were spent in Antwerp, where Rubens was greatly in need of his assistance for the church of the Jesuits. After this Van Dyck most probably returned to London and remained there till the end of 1622, when his father died. The precise date of his departure for Italy—perhaps at the beginning and certainly in the course of 1623—has not been ascertained. But he is known to have left with Rubens a considerable number of paintings, most of which have been identified in Madrid, Berlin, Dresden, &c., and show that study, as well as advice, had long since made the painter acquainted, through Rubens, with those principles of picturesque expression which he was now about to see exemplified so splendidly in the works of the Venetian and Genoese schools. His previous acquaintance with many excellent examples of Titian, Tintoretto, and others in Rubens’s own collection can alone account for the remarkably glowing tints of Van Dyck’s earliest paintings. In fact, such works as the Martyrdom of St Peter (Brussels), the Crowning with Thorns (Berlin), the Betrayal of Christ (Madrid and Lord Methuen), St Martin Dividing his Cloak (Windsor Castle),—a magnificent production, generally ascribed to Rubens, but easily identified through Van Dyck’s admirable sketch at Dorchester House,—incontestably prove that, in point of colouring, Venice at this moment stood higher in his predilection than Antwerp.

It is unnecessary to dwell on a number of tales connected with Van Dyck’s early life, all of which have on closer examination proved to be apocryphal; but one story has been too frequently told to be altogether ignored. At the very outset of his Italian journey the inflammable youth was captivated by the beauty of a country girl, and for the love of her painted the altar-piece still to be seen in the church at Saventhem near Brussels, in which he himself is supposed to be represented on a grey horse, given by Rubens to his pupil. It is now known, however, that the picture was commissioned by a gentleman living at Saventhem (to the charms of whose daughter Van Dyck in reality seems not to have been altogether insensible), and a closer study makes it almost certain that it was executed after, not before, his Italian journey. On a reduced scale, and with the omission of two or three figures, the St Martin at Saventhem is a reproduction of the picture at Windsor Castle.

No master from beyond the Alps ever took up a higher position than Van Dyck among the most celebrated representatives of Italian art. Study, as a matter of course, had been one of his principal objects. No doubt can be entertained as to the great influence exerted by the works of Titian and Paul Veronese in the development of his genius; still the individuality of the painter remains a striking feature of what may be termed his Italian works, especially portraits. Their peculiar character seems to originate even more in the stateliness of the personages he was fortunate enough to have as sitters than in any desire to follow individual predilection or prevailing fashion. As in later years Van Dyck gives us a striking picture of the higher classes in England, so at this stage he makes us acquainted with Italian beauty and style; and at no other period is his talent more advantageously shown than in some of the glorious portraits he painted at Rome, at Florence, and above all at Genoa. At Rome he resided with Cardinal Guido Bentivoglio, who had been papal nuncio in Flanders from 1607 to 1617. For this patron were painted several works of very great importance, the most renowned being the prelate’s own portrait, now in the Pitti Palace at Florence. Another work was a Crucifixion, representing Christ dying on the cross with uplifted eyes. Most probably the picture spoken of by Bellori ought to be identified with the admirable edition now in the gallery at Naples, catalogued as “Scuola di Van Dyck,” unsurpassed by any of those at Antwerp, Paris, Vienna, Rome, or elsewhere. Besides these he painted religious subjects and portraits, several of which are reckoned among his finest examples, such as the portrait of Francis Duquesnoy, the famous sculptor, belonging to the king of the Belgians, and those of Sir Robert Shirley and his wife, in Persian attire, now at Petworth.

Bellori tells us of Van Dyck’s prepossessing appearance, of his elegance and distinction, altogether so different from the habits of his compatriots in Rome, who formed a jovial “gang,” as they termed their association. Van Dyck seems to have kept out of their way, and incurred in consequence such annoyance as made his stay in Rome much shorter than it would otherwise have been. In the company of Lady Arundel, who tried to persuade him to return to England, he travelled to Turin, and perhaps produced some of the paintings now in the royal gallery there, such as the spirited portrait of Thomas of Savoy on his splendid black charger. But he was eager to reach Genoa, where Rubens had worked with great success some twenty years before, and where his Antwerp friends, Luke and Cornelis de Wael, for many years resident in Italy, now were. Van Dyck remained their guest for several months, and their portraits, now in the Pinacoteca Capitolina at Rome (engraved by W. Hollar from the monochrome at Cassel), may be supposed to have been one of his first Genoese productions. Though several of the palaces of the “superb” city no longer retain their treasures, and among the specimens of Van Dyck’s genius still left too many have been greatly injured by cleaning and retouching, Genoa can still boast of a good number of his most attractive productions, portraits of the beautiful ladies and haughty cavaliers of the noble houses of Doria, Brignole Sale, Pallavicini, Balbi, Cattaneo, Spinola, Lommelini, and Grimaldi. It would scarcely be possible to speak too highly of such works as the portrait of the lady in white satin and the Durazzo children at the Durazzo Palace, the Balbi children at Panshanger, the Marchesa Balbi at Dorchester House, the equally beautiful portraits of the Lommelini and of the knight in black armour, buff jacket, and boots in the national gallery at Edinburgh, or the Marchesa Brignole Sala at Warwick Castle. Van Dyck’s “Genoese manner” is a current expression, and indeed his Genoese portraits are remarkable for their richness of tonality and what might be called royal splendour, perhaps never before attained in works of the kind. This we may suppose to have had its origin, not only in his recent study of Titian (Van Dyck having, it is said, first spent some time at Venice), but also in decorative necessities,—the size of the palatial galleries and the rich hues of the Genoese velvets, on which these portraits were to find their place, obliging the painter to find a most uncommon strength of contrast. It must also be acknowledged that the beauty and distinction of Van Dyck’s models are greatly enhanced by a splendour of costume entirely different from the dulness then prevalent almost everywhere else. In Italy, moreover, he found the reality of those gorgeous backgrounds, —flowing draperies, beautiful gardens, ornamental pillars, marble terraces and balustrades,—which elsewhere must be regarded as fictions merely. Here, finally, he was for the first time called upon to paint some of his grandest equestrian portraits, and the often-recurring grey steed with flowing mane (an admirable study of which belongs to Lord Brownlow) was first employed for the portrait of Antonio Giulio Brignole (still at Genoa) and for another picture which we may suppose to represent the same personage at Stafford House. As with Rubens, Titian seems to have been paramount in Van Dyck’s regard. Copies in great number we know he possessed of the master’s best works, and several little sketches in the British Museum bear proof of his devout study of the great Venetian. Some of Van Dyck’s earlier paintings, religious and mythological,—the Tribute Money (Brignole Palace), Holy Family (Turin), Virgin and Saints (Louvre), Virgin (Grosvenor House), Martyrdom of St Lawrence (S. Maria dell’ Orto, Venice), Bacchanal (Lord Belper), engraved at Genoa as early as 1628, St Sebastian (Edinburgh),—are certainly Titianesque in the extreme. Still the master’s individuality is not obliterated, and the gallery at Parma has a Virgin with the Infant Asleep which may be termed a marvel of realistic simplicity.

Van Dyck is said to have sailed from Genoa to Palermo and there to have painted several persons of rank, including the viceroy, Emmanuel Philibert of Savoy. While in Sicily he became acquainted with the painter Sofonisba Anguisciola (or Angussola), who was then over ninety years of age and blind; and he was wont to say he had received more valuable information from a blind woman than from many a seeing man. No important works of Van Dyck are now to be found in Sicily. Bellori tells us that a plague broke out and compelled him to leave abruptly, taking with him an unfinished picture of St Rosalia, destined for a confraternity of that name, and which was completed in Genoa. The composition was repeated in Antwerp for the Bachelors’ Brotherhood, a picture now in Vienna. Van Dyck most probably remained in Genoa till 1627, and here in all likelihood he met and painted the sculptor George Petel, whose portrait is now in Munich, and who was frequently employed by Rubens; the De Jodes, father and son, the celebrated engravers, who are represented together in a masterly portrait in the Capitol at Rome, the companion picture to the brothers De Wael; and Nicholas Laniere, musician-in-chief to Charles I., a painting spoken of in Van der Dort’s catalogue as “done beyond the seas.” Laniere was in Italy precisely at this time and it was through his portrait (now at Windsor Castle), Walpole assures us, that Van Dyck attracted the notice of Charles I.

Embarking for Marseilles, Van Dyck is said to have stopped at Aix with Peiresc, the famous scholar and friend of Rubens, and thence to have gone to Paris, where most probably he painted the beautiful portrait of Langlois the print-seller (belonging to Mr W. Garnett), a work still influenced by Italian reminiscences, and had the opportunity of meeting Callot, Simon Vouet, and Dupuy, the king’s librarian,—all of whose portraits were engraved from his drawings in Antwerp. According to some authors, he also worked in Holland before returning to his native town; but the supposition rests entirely on two portraits in the museum at The Hague, dated 1627 and 1628, and representing a lady and gentleman, with the Sheffield arms. The lady is easily identified by a well-known print by Clouwet as Anne Wake. The Wake family resided in Antwerp, and both portraits may have been painted there. There is no recorded proof of Van Dyck’s return to Antwerp before 6th March 1628. One of his sisters had died in a convent the year before, and he now made a will in favour of Susan and Isabella, two other sisters, also nuns. That Van Dyck was in Antwerp on 18th May is proved by a letter from Lord Carlisle to Buckingham (Sainsbury, CIII.), but it is stated in Bullart’s Académie, published in 1682, that he returned again to London in 1629, without, however, attracting the king’s attention. It is very likely that Lady Arundel’s endeavours to get him back to England were now successful, and that the beautiful portrait of Lord Thomas, at Stafford House, belongs to this period.

Great as may have been the strength of Italian reminiscence, from the moment Van Dyck again trod Flemish soil the influence of Rubens became predominant, and we can scarcely doubt that a competition speedily arose between master and pupil. At this period churches and convents were numerous and richly endowed; and the number of pictures, stained glass windows, and elaborate carvings in Belgian churches before the French conquest was enormous. Hardly fifty years had elapsed since these buildings had been stripped of their artistic treasures, and the devout were now eager once more to adorn them with productions of the greatest painters. Hence Van Dyck’s share could be very copious without in any degree interfering with the vast undertakings assigned to Rubens. The latter was also absent for many months in 1629 and 1630, so that Van Dyck was for a time the first master in the Netherlands. Among the earliest works after his return to Antwerp we find the Crucifixion, given to the Dominican nuns, in accordance with the wish expressed by the painter’s dying father, and now in the Antwerp museum. The figures are life-size, and at the foot of the cross, besides a weeping angel, are St Catherine of Siena and St Dominic. Neither in type nor in general effect does it suggest the master’s immediately preceding works. As a new feature we observe a kind of elegance, not entirely free from mannerism, which is often conspicuous with Van Dyck even when the technical excellence commands our warmest admiration. Inspiration, as Waagen observes, was far more limited with Van Dyck than with Rubens. His truly delicate nature led him to restrain his conceptions within the bounds of an academic evenness, generally more pleasing to the uninitiated than the strength of expression which sometimes imparts a sort of violence to the works of Rubens. To Van Dyck’s second—more justly speaking third—manner belong some of his best religious works. The Crucifixion in the cathedral at Mechlin is termed by Sir Joshua Reynolds one of the finest pictures in the world. Other Crucifixions are in St Michael’s at Ghent (sketches in Lord Brownlow’s collection and the Brussels museum) and in the church at Termonde. Still finer are the two works painted for the Antwerp Jesuits and now at Vienna,—the Blessed Herman Joseph Kneeling before the Virgin and St Rosalia Crowned by the Infant Saviour. To this period likewise belong the celebrated Elevation of the Cross at Courtrai and the St Augustine in Ecstasy, in the church of the Jesuits at Antwerp; the general effect of this last, it must be acknowledged with Reynolds, is inferior to the beautiful engraving by De Jode, and also to the earl of Northbrook’s magnificent sketch. At Dulwich we find the first idea of the composition, with many interesting differences. It may be a matter of individual preference to pronounce Van Dyck’s Flemish portraits superior to those of an earlier period; but nobody can fail to admit that, technically speaking, they indicate a further step towards perfection. The darkness of the Genoese portraits has vanished: broad daylight now freely illuminates the model, and such works as the portraits of Cornelius Van der Geest (National Gallery, London) and Ambrogio Spinola (Rev. W. H. Wayne) are perhaps as close to material excellence as any painting could be. The full-length likenesses of Philip Le Roy (1630) and his wife (1631) (at Manchester House) and of Mary Louisa of Tassis (Prince Liechtenstein, Vienna) are not only the finest examples of the master’s talent, but deserve to rank among the most beautiful portraits ever painted. The Snyders at Castle Howard is regarded by Waagen as not inferior to the most celebrated Raphaels, Titians, or Holbeins; and of almost equal excellence are the Wife of Colin de Nole in the Munich gallery, the Lady and her Daughter at the Louvre, and the Lady in Black at Cassel.

Rapidly rising to honour and wealth, Van Dyck shared with Rubens the official title of court painter, and his numerous portraits of the Infanta in her monastic garb (Paris, Vienna, Turin, Parma, &c.) bear testimony to the great favour in which he stood with her. When Mary de’ Medici,...

Traces of vanadium are found in certain iron ores and in many other minerals. Roscoe utilized a kind of sandstone from Alderley Edge and Mottram in Cheshire which contains a small admixture of mottramite. Another suitable material is the “Bohnerz” of Steinlade and Haverloh, essentially a hydrated ferric oxide. For the extraction of vanadium from this latter mineral Wöhler recommends the following method. The finely powdered mineral is mixed with one-third of its weight of nitre and the mixture kept at a dull red heat for an hour. The ignited mass is powdered and lixiviated with water, which extracts the potash salts of the oxides V 2 O 5 , CrO 3 , MoO 3 , As 2 O 5 , P2O 5 , and SiO 2 ∙ The filtered solution is almost neutralized with nitric acid, but not completely, or else some of the V 2 O 5 would be reduced by the nitrous acid to lower oxides; and the vanadic and most of the other acids named are precipitated as baryta salts by addition of chloride of barium. From the washed precipitate the acids are liberated by boiling dilute sulphuric acid, and the sulphate of baryta is filtered off. The solution is neutralized with ammonia, concentrated by evaporation, and, after cooling, kept in contact with a solid piece of sal-ammoniac more than sufficient to saturate the solution with this salt. Meta-vanadate of ammonia, V 2 O 5 (NH 4 ) 2 O, being characteristically insoluble in sal-ammoniac solution, separates out as a yellowish crystalline precipitate. This is collected, washed with sal-ammoniac solution and after that with alcohol, and purified by re-crystallization or otherwise. The pure salt when heated to dull redness leaves the pentoxide, V 2 O s (vanadic acid), as a red liquid, which freezes into a red-brown crystalline mass of sp. gr. 3∙35 (J. J. Watts). It dissolves in about 1000 parts of water, forming a yellow solution which reddens litmus. The pentoxide, though capable of uniting with strong acids, e.g., with sulphuric into a salt, V 2 O 2 (SO 4 ) 3 , behaves on the whole as an acid oxide analogous in its combining habits to phosphoric (see Phosphorus, vol. xviii. p. 818, and Chemistry, vol. v. p. 540). Solutions of vanadates are easily recognized: on addition of mineral acid they assume the yellow colour characteristic of the pentoxide, and if the mixture is then kept in contact with zinc it passes through all shades of (intense) green till it ultimately assumes a lavender colour. The solution then contains a chloride corresponding to the oxide V 2 O 2 (Berzelius’s metal). It absorbs atmospheric oxygen with an extraordinary degree of avidity, assuming, in the absence of free acid, a dark brown colour. An acidified vanadate solution, if shaken with peroxide of hydrogen and ether, furnishes a dark red reduction product, which passes into the ethereal layer. One part of vanadic acid in 40,000 parts of water can thus be rendered distinctly visible (Werther). If a mixture of the pentoxide and charcoal is heated in dry chlorine, it is converted into an oxychloride, VOCl 3 (trichloride of Berzelius), which distils over and may be purified by re-distillation over sodium. It is a canary-yellow mobile liquid, freezing below -15° C. and boiling at 126° ∙7 C., and its sp. gr. at 14° C. is 1∙841. Water decomposes it with formation of hydrochloric acid and pentoxide V 2 O 5 . If the vapour of this chloride is passed over red-hot charcoal in a current of chlorine, the tetrachloride VC1 4 is produced as a dark brown liquid, boiling at about 154° C. A mixture of the vapour of this chloride with hydrogen, when passed through a dull-red-hot tube, yields (more or less of “sesqui-” chloride, V 2 Cl 6 , and) the dichloride VC1 2 , which, if pure, forms apple-green, mica-like, hexagonal plates. From this dichloride Roscoe for the first time prepared the true metal by heating it to redness in hydrogen gas, a simple enough method in theory, but in practice one of the most difficult of operations, because the dichloride is very difficult to prepare and highly hygroscopic, and because the metal is extremely prone to take up oxygen. Even the purest product which Roscoe succeeded in obtaining contained an appreciable admixture of oxide. Vanadium is a light grey powder, which under the microscope appears crystalline and exhibits a silvery lustre, sp. gr. =5∙5. Of its chemical properties the most remarkable is that it combines directly with nitrogen gas, N 2 , into a bronze-coloured nitride, VN.

Rare and expensive as vanadium is, it has found a practical application in the production of aniline black. The black is produced from aniline by the action of chloric acid, aided by the presence of some oxygen carrier. Sulphide of copper is usually employed; but, as Lightfoot found, a mere trace of vanadic acid (or vanadate of ammonia) acts more energetically than any other available agent. According to Witz, 1 part of vanadic acid suffices for 67,000 parts of aniline salt.

In 1695 he was offered—whether through the court interest which he had secured or whether because he really had acquired a knowledge of architecture in France is not known—the post of secretary to the commission for endowing Greenwich Hospital. He accepted the post, and by way of fulfilling his functions as an architect turned his attention to the amours of " Lord Foppington.” His Relapse or Virtue in Danger, a sequel to Colley Cibber’s Love’s Last Shift, was produced at Drury Lane in 1697. When a comic dramatist of the school of Wycherley confesses that the fine gentleman of his play, “drinking his mistresses’ health in Nantes brandy from six in the morning to the time he waddled on upon the stage in the evening, had toasted himself up to such a pitch of vigour” that something too outrageous even for such an audience seemed imminent, we may assume that he has enjoyed a satisfactory first night. The success was so triumphant that Montague, afterwards Lord Halifax, asked at once for the Provoked Wife for the theatre in Lincoln’s Inn Fields, and—Skipworth waiving, for the advantage of Vanbrugh, his own claim upon the play—it was produced at that theatre in the following year. All that could be said in answer to those who condemned it on account of its unblushing libertinism was that Sir John Brute is sufficiently brutal to drive any woman into rebellion, and that since the glorious days of the Restoration a wife’s rebellion and a wife’s adultery were synonymous terms. The play was a complete triumph.

And now, having succeeded as a man of fashion, as an architectural commissioner, and as a comic dramatist of the school of Wycherley, Vanbrugh turned his attention to morals. Though Aesop— produced at Drury Lane in the same year as the Provoked Wife— was an adaptation of Boursault’s dramatic sermon on the same subject, it was an improvement on the French play. As usual with Vanbrugh, who never did things by halves, he surpassed the Frenchman on that very point where the Frenchman had been pronounced unsurpassable. Just as in the Relapse, when he aspired to be merry, his merriment had entirely surpassed that of Cibber’s play, of which his own was meant to be a sequel, and just as afterwards, when in Castle Howard and Blenheim he aspired to rival in massiveness the “thick rotundity of the earth,” he laid on her a structure only a “few tons lighter than herself,” so now, when he aspired to surpass the Frenchman in gravity, he achieved a kind of dulness compared with which the owllike dulness of Boursault was as the wit of Voltaire. In a word, the humour of the piece lies in the fact that it was written by the author of the Relapse and the Provoked Wife. The play ran during a week only. Vanbrugh, accepting the failure with his usual good-temper, seems then to have turned his attention completely to architecture; for the adaptation in 1700 of the Pilgrim, of Beaumont and Fletcher, and the production in 1702 of A False Friend, could hardly have engaged his serious efforts at all, so perfunctory are they and so inferior to all that he had done before.

Castle Howard in Yorkshire, which he had built for the earl of Carlisle, was a great success so far as pleasing his patron went, who as a reward gave him yet another opening in life by presenting him,—the most ignorant man perhaps in England of heraldry, judging from the fun he made of the appointment,—with the tabard of Clarencieux king-at-arms. But, if the dangerous moment in every man’s life is when he has just scored a brilliant success, it is especially so with genial glowing natures like Vanbrugh’s. It seems to have been the success of Castle Howard that caused him to entertain the rash project of building a theatre, from his own design, for the acting of his own plays. The joyous courage with which, having persuaded thirty people in the fashionable world to aid him in finding the money, and Congreve to aid him in finding the plays, he began to build in perfect unconsciousness of the danger before him is the only passage in his life which may be called pathetic, save of course his struggle with the “wicked woman of Marlborough.” No doubt any architect who builds a theatre is always in danger of letting his ideas run riot in the wide field of experiment, but he who builds a theatre for his own plays seems doomed by the malice aforethought of fate. The magnitude of Vanbrugh’s architectural ideas grew as the work went on, and with the ideas the structure grew till a theatre meant for the delicate bijouterie work of polite comedy seemed growing to the proportions of the Roman Colosseum. Whether Congreve endeavoured to put a check upon his friend’s architectural and authorial fervour does not appear. But it must be remembered that not only Vanbrugh’s plays but his own were to be acted there, and that, although Congreve was a man of great sagacity, no man, not even he who pretended to set his gentility above his genius, is sagacious when confronted by the surpassing excellence of his own poems and plays.

When at length the time came to test the acoustics of the pile, it was found to be sadly defective. What changes were made to rectify the errors of structure does not appear. The theatre was opened to the public with an Italian opera, which was followed by three of Molière’s comedies, and these by the Confederacy, Vanbrugh’s masterpiece on the whole, though perhaps its finest scenes are not equal to the finest scenes in the Relapse.

Vanbrugh at last withdrew from the disastrous speculation; Congreve had already withdrawn. But a man to whom fortune had been so kind as she had been to Vanbrugh could hardly be depressed by any of her passing frowns. Queen Anne at once sent him abroad on an important state errand, and afterwards he was commissioned to build Blenheim. Upon the merits and demerits of this famous “hollowed quarry” there has been much conflict of opinion. As to the sarcasms by Swift, Walpole, Evans, and the rest, they are as nothing when set against Sir Joshua Reynolds’s defence of Vanbrugh and his style. For in England the general sense for architecture seems to be even rarer than the general sense for poetry and painting. The truth is that Vanbrugh imported largely into architecture what in all the plastic arts should be allowed to fructify but sparsely, namely, literary ideas, and even these literary ideas of his seem to lack that fusion which we see in the works of the great masters. Hence, impressive as are the parts, they do not form an impressive whole. Blenheim, however, was a source of great sorrow to the kindly dramatist. Though Parliament had voted for the building of it, no provision had been made for the supplies. The queen while she lived paid them, and then Vanbrugh was left to the meanness of the duke of Marlborough and afterwards to the insolence of the “wicked woman,” who did her best to embitter his life. Besides Castle Howard and Blenheim, he built many other country mansions, such as Grimsthorpe and Duncombe Hall in Yorkshire, Eastbury in Dorsetshire, Seaton-Delaval in Northumberland, King’s Weston near Bristol, Oulton Hall in Cheshire, &c.

About the end of 1710 Vanbrugh married Henrietta Maria, daughter of Colonel Yarborough of Haslington, and four years afterwards, at the accession of George I., he was knighted. He afterwards wrote again for the stage, and the unfinished fragment left at his death, which took place on 26th March 1726 at his house in Scotland Yard, London, shows that his powers remained to the last as fine as ever.

In order to find and fix Vanbrugh’s place among English comic dramatists, an examination of the very basis of the comedy of repartee inaugurated by Etheredge would be necessary, and, of course, such an examination would be impossible here. It is chiefly as a humorist, however, that he demands attention.

Given the humorous temperament—the temperament which impels a man to get his enjoyment by watching the harlequinade of life, and contrasting it with his own ideal standard of good sense, which the harlequinade seems to him to mock and challenge —given this temperament, then the quality of its humorous growths depends of course on the quality of the intellectual forces by means of which the temperament gains expression. Hence it is very likely that in original endowment of humour, as distinguished from wit, Vanbrugh was superior to Congreve. And this is saying a great deal: for, while Congreve’s wit has always been made much of, it has, since Macaulay’s time, been the fashion among critics to do less than justice to his humour,—a humour which, in such scenes as that in Love for Love where Sir Sampson Legend discourses upon the human appetites and functions, moves beyond the humour of convention and passes into natural humour. It is, however, in spontaneity, in a kind of lawless merriment, almost Aristophanic in its verve, that Vanbrugh’s humour seems so deep and so fine, seems indeed to spring from a fountain deeper and finer and rarer than Congreve’s. A comedy of wit, like every other drama, is a story told by action and dialogue, but to tell a story lucidly and rapidly by means of repartee is exceedingly difficult, not but that it is easy enough to produce repartee. But in comic dialogue the difficulty is to move rapidly and yet keep up the brilliant ball-throwing demanded in this form, and without lucidity and rapidity no drama, whether of repartee or of character, can live. Etheredge, the father of the comedy of repartee, has at length had justice done to him by Mr Gosse. Not only could Etheredge tell a story by means of repartee alone: he could produce a tableau too; so could Congreve, and so also could Vanbrugh, but often—far too often—Vanbrugh’s tableau is reached, not by fair means, as in the tableau of Congreve, but by a surrendering of probability, by a sacrifice of artistic fusion, by an inartistic mingling of comedy and farce, such as Congreve never indulges in. Jeremy Collier was perfectly right therefore in his strictures upon the farcical improbabilities of the Relapse. So farcical indeed are the tableaux in that play that the broader portions of it were (as Mr Swinburne discovered) adapted by Voltaire and acted at Sceaux as a farce. Had we space here to contrast the Relapse with the Way of the World, we should very likely come upon a distinction between comedy and farce such as has never yet been drawn. We should find that farce is not comedy with a broadened grin—Thalia with her girdle loose and run wild—as the critics seem to assume. We should find that the difference between the two is not one of degree at all, but rather one of kind, and that mere breadth of fun has nothing to do with the question. No doubt the fun of comedy may be as broad as that of farce, as is shown indeed by the celebrated Dogberry scenes in Much Ado about Nothing and by the scene in Love for Love between Sir Sampson Legend and his son, alluded to above; but here, as in every other department of art, all depends upon the quality of the imaginative belief that the artist seeks to arrest and secure. Of comedy the breath of life is dramatic illusion. Of farce the breath of life is mock illusion. Comedy, whether broad or genteel, pretends that its mimicry is real. Farce, whether broad or genteel, makes no such pretence, but by a thousand tricks, which it keeps up between itself and the audience, says, "My acting is all sham, and you know it.” Now, while Vanbrugh was apt too often to forget this the fundamental difference between comedy and farce, Congreve never forgot it, Wycherley rarely. Not that there should be in any literary form any arbitrary laws. There is no arbitrary law declaring that comedy shall not be mingled with farce, and yet the fact is that in vital drama they cannot be so mingled. The very laws of their existence are in conflict with each other, so much so that where one lives the other must die, as we see in the drama of our own day. The fact seems to be that probability of incident, logical sequence of cause and effect, are as necessary to comedy as they are to tragedy, while farce would stifle in such an air. Rather it would be poisoned by it, just as comedy is poisoned by what farce flourishes on, that is to say, inconsequence of reasoning— topsy-turvy logic. Born in the fairy country of topsy-turvy, the logic of farce would be illogical if it were not upside-down. So with coincidence, with improbable accumulation of convenient events,— farce can no more exist without these than comedy can exist with them. Hence we affirm that Jeremy Collier’s strictures on the farcical adulterations of the Relapse pierce more deeply into Vanbrugh’s art than do the criticisms of Leigh Hunt and Hazlitt. In other words, perhaps the same lack of fusion which mars Vanbrugh’s architectural ideas mars also his comedy. (T. W. )

Vancouver’s work on the west and north-west coast of America was of the highest character, and has formed the basis of all subsequent surveys. His zeal led him to take an active share in all operations, and the hardships he thus suffered tended no doubt to shorten his life. He was a man of great tact, humanity, generosity, and uprightness of character.

The island is essentially a mountain range composed of metamorphic and trappean rocks, fringed by a belt of Carboniferous limestones and other sedimentary deposits. Among the metamorphic and erupted rocks are gneiss and killas or clayslate, permeated by quartz veins, quartz and hornblende rocks, compact bituminous slate, highly crystalline felspathic traps, and semi-crystalline concretionary limestone. Among the sedimentary rocks are sandstones and stratified limestones, fine and coarse grits, conglomerates, and fossiliferous limestones, shales, &c., associated with seams of coal. The country is strewn with erratic boulders and other marks of Glacial action. So far as is known at present the chief mineral resource is coal, which is worked in large quantities at Nanaimo on the east coast, and in quality is reputed the best on the whole Pacific coast. While limited areas in the south-east of the island and in the inland valleys are well adapted to agriculture (about 300,000 acres in all), and while farming is carried on to some extent, the country is too mountainous ever to develop agriculture on any large scale. The mountains are, however, covered with forests, mainly the Douglas pine, yielding splendid supplies of timber. These forests, with its coal and its fisheries, may be regarded as the chief resources of the island. The climate of Vancouver, especially in the south, is wonderfully mild for the latitude, as mild as that of Great Britain, with drier summers. The mean temperature of December at Victoria, in the south of the island, is about 38° Fahr., while that of July is 53°. A rainfall of 35∙87 inches in the year has been recorded at Esquimault. In the northern parts and in the west the climate gets much more severe, and there the rainfall is greater than on the south and east coasts. Cereals of all kinds, all fruits of the temperate zone, pulse, and vegetables flourish on the patches suited to agriculture, while cattle and sheep can be easily reared in small numbers. The population of the island in 1881 was 9991, of whom 5925 lived in the city of Victoria. In 1887 the population was estimated at 25,000 (19,000 whites and Chinese, and 6000 Indians).

The capital of the island is Victoria (q.υ.). Three and a half miles to the west of Victoria is the town of Esquimault at the head of Parry Bay. There has been a British Admiralty station here for many years, the harbour having an average depth of from 6 to 8 fathoms. There are Government offices, two churches, a public school, and various other buildings. The Canadian Government has constructed a dry dock, 450 feet long, 26 feet deep, and 65 feet wide at the entrance. The completion of the Canadian Pacific Railway renders Esquimault of increasing importance. Seventy-three miles north of Victoria and connected with it by railway is the town of Nanaimo, the centre of the coal mining industry; the average output of coal in the five years ending 1887 was 250,000 tons per annum. The mines employ about 1100 men. There are a good harbour and wharves. The population in 1887 was estimated at 4000. There are smaller communities in the island, mainly in the south corner. Sixty miles north-west of Nanaimo is Comox, the chief centre of the lumber industry. On the mainland, opposite Nanaimo, on a peninsula to the south of Burrard’s Inlet, a city named Vancouver has recently been formed (incorporated 1886) at the terminus of the Canadian Pacific Railway.

History.— Vancouver Island was discovered by Juan de Fuca in 1592. In 1778 Captain Cook roughly surveyed the coast, this work being extended by Captain Vancouver, who surveyed the Strait of Juan de Fuca and the Gulf of Georgia. The first settlement on the island was made by the Hudson’s Bay Company on the site of Victoria in 1843. Six years later Vancouver Island was constituted a colony. Its union with British Columbia was effected in 1866∙.