because it then reverts to her or to her heirs as the case may be, and neither the wife nor her heirs are liable to the husband's debts.

A husband is bound by law to maintain his wife, and that maintenance must be such as is reasonable, having regard to the condition and means of the husband. It has been stated in the beginning of this article that by law any purely personal property coming to a married woman, whether by legacy, gift, or otherwise, passes and belongs to her husband, except, of course, property acquired by her personal and separate exertions, and falling within the scope of the Acts of 1870 and 1874 referred to. And if the executor of the testator, in the case of a legacy, as the person holding the fund coming to the married woman, chooses to pay it to the husband, the married woman cannot claim any part of it; or if the executor of the testator in the case of a legacy, or the person holding the fund, refuses to pay it to the husband, he may recover it by an action at Common Law. But if the legacy or other fund comes within the grasp of the Court of Chancery, that Court holds that it is inequitable for the husband to claim that which was intended for the benefit of the married woman, and will accordingly not let the husband receive it, except upon the condition of making such settlement on his wife and her children as the Court shall consider just and reasonable. This purely equitable right of the wife is termed by lawyers her "equity to a settlement." Thus, for instance, if a testator gives a legacy to a married woman, or if she becomes entitled to personal property under an intestacy, and the testator's or intestate's property does not come under the jurisdiction of the Court of Chancery, that Court leaves the husband's right to payment from the executors or administrators untouched. But if for any reason the administration of the estate of the dead comes under the jurisdiction of the Court of Chancery, then that Court will not part with the fund bequeathed as falling to the marrfed woman, except upon the terms above mentioned.

In determining what proportion of the fund shall be settled by the husband, the Court of Chancery exercises an absolute discretion, but is practically governed by the special cicumstances of each case. The Court, for instance, will take into account the circumstances and

conduct of the husband, the amount of a settlement (if any) previously made upon the wife; and similar considerations affecting the question of what settlement may reasonably be required from the husband.

It must not, however, be understood that the mere commencement of proceedings in Chancery will induce the Court to require a settle. ment from the husband: thus, for instance, if proceedings have been commenced in the case of a legacy to a married woman, and before any final direction has been given, the married woman dies, then the Court will not proceed to require a settlement by the husband on the children; but holds that as their claim is through their mother, and her right has ceased by her death, the children cannot make any claim.

If in a case of this kind there is already existing an ample or sufficient provision for the wife and children, and the position of the husband is such as to satisfy the Court that it will be for the benefit of the wife and children that a large portion of the fund should be paid to the husband, the Court will so direct. If, on the other hand, the provision already existing for the wife and children is inadequate, the Court will supplement it by settling a material portion of the fund on the wife and children.

In the extreme case of there being no settlement on the wife and children; and especially if the conduct of the husband has been such as to justify anticipation that if any part of the fund is paid to him it will be consumed by him without regard to the welfare of his wife and children, then the Court will direct a settlement of a large portion of the fund. What settlement shall be made is entirely, as before mentioned, in the discretion of the Court; but that discretion is, of course, exercised with judicial prudence. There is, however, no instance of the Court of Chancery having settled the whole fund on the wife and children, except by the consent of the husband.

C. STEWART DREWRY.

Miscellanea.

STAGE EXAGGERATIONS.-It seems incredible to us now, with our smaller theatres and closer stage, how the Greeks could have endured the artificial personation of their actors; not so much for their exaggeration of voice and stature, which, on account of the greater distance of the spectators from the actors, we can understand must needs have been-nor for the fact of their wearing masks at all, which was the necessary consequence of the cothurnus- but for the fixed and unvarying types of these masks, all of which thus became more like symbols than living persons. There were about twenty-seven in all on which to ring the changes; giving four for the "first" old men, and two for the second; seven for the young men; three for the male, and five for the female slaves, with six for the free women, our prime donne, first walking ladies, and ingénues. But they were always the same, the type of each being absolutely fixed. Thus, Clytemnestra at Argos was precisely the same as Hecuba at Athens-"the pale lady with long black hair and a sad expression in her countenance," being the mask used for all the graver and intenser characters; while the Hamlets and Falklands and Masters of Ravenswood of the times would be each played in precisely the same mask, only the words issuing from the squared open mouth differing. All this seems very wooden and unimpressive to us accustomed to a different personality of character with each actor or actress who plays; so that we, who are old enough to remember, have had now Grisi and now Jenny Lind for our 'Norma,' now Macready and now Fechter for our 'Othello.' And, yet, how much on our own

stage is as absolutely stereotyped as the Greek and Roman mask, and as far removed from the every-day life assumed to be represented! For instance, take sorrow as it is transacted on the boards and never seen in real life. Here we have the set type of the tragic mask in perfection. A young man, flouted by fortune and despairing of getting the girl he loves, finds no more manly way of expressing his grief than by weeping behind his handkerchief, as young men who are worth their salt and have an honest backbone like other vertebrate animals never do. He will turn away from the audience and droop his face on the shoulder of his friend, holding fast by his hands in a manner that might be natural enough among women but surely is not usual with men; at least not with Englishmen, who, as a rule, refrain from hugging each other after school-boy days, and do not cry on any provocation whatsoever. An angry father relenting, can do nothing better in the way of depicting his softer mood than by weeping, with more or less noise of hysterical sobbing. If he is irascible, rubicund, and vulgar, he cries very noisely into a red and yellow bandana; if he is pale, tall, and aristocratic, he contents himself with a sudden catarrh, which necessitates the exhibition of a white pocket-handkerchief-the symbol of his more refined nature. This is stage grief-the modern tragic mask. The more subtle and infinitely more pathetic indications given by a few masters in the art-such as the husky voice, the words a little faltering, sometimes interrupted altogether for a few seconds, as if to prevent a total breakdown—the fingers making as if to loosen the cravat which has become too tight by the swelling of the heart-the steadfast gaze on something quite apart from and insignificant to the main action, in a kind of mechanical attempt at calmness, but the eyes not seeing what it is at which they are looking—all these evidences of manly grief, as we see them in real life, are not translated into the business of the stage, save with these very few masters who believe more in nature than in masks. But noisy weeping, with a flourish of red and yellow pocket-handkerchief for the less refined kind, and a broken lily-like movement for the more gentleman-like and pathetic, still hold their place there as the recognised symbols of sorrow

and the most natural representations of a man's distress of mind. Stage anger too is just as absurd as stage sorrow. If men in real life went raving about as they do on the boards, they would be locked up by the police for brawling, or put into a lunatic asylum as madmen and dangerous. The quiet concentrated anger which expresses itself more in feature and quality of voice than in furious gestures and unnatural roaring, is seldom or never seen on the stage. Yet it is as much more eloquent and thrilling as are the more subtle indications of grief than the unseemly blubbering in general stage use. People in a red rage are always undignified and ridiculous. It is the white heat which tells; and the suggestion of latent force-of a fury that could be roused, and if roused would be as deadly as a thunderbolt from heaven-is a more powerful as well as a more masterly and artistic kind of thing than the rude, loud, tearing, scold which has no more issue in deeds than any other old wife's scolding-match. But, with us, the most dignified characters we have in drama ramp and rage about the boards with furious gestures and lengthy strides, shouting themselves hoarse like low-lived roughs in a street row more than like noble, manly, selfcontained heroes, who might be weakened into wrath but who could never be degraded to indecency. And stage anger is indecent, looked at from the point of view of manly self-control. If manifestations are stereotyped and artificial, so are characters. Gentleman-like fathers are always pale, grey-haired, and with well-preserved waists; vulgar ones are stout, well fed, and deeply ruddled. The melancholy heroine most frequently dresses in black, and does her best to convey the impression of scrofulous consumption or chronic dyspepsia; the lighthearted heroine is fond of white muslin with a pink sash, and would be improved by a course of manners as taught at a Brighton finishingschool. The serious lover, in black velvet, where the costume admits it, walks about in fitful spasmodic steps, with a book in his hand, which he does not read; and if he is to be pitied for his misfortunes, he is also to be despised for a character so feeble, a temper so easily depressed, that we wonder what the world would be like if a majority of our young men were of this weak and washy type. Yet it is

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