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APPLETONS' POPULAR LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE BEST AUTHORS. 
 
 MEN'S WIVES. 
 
MEN'S WIVES. 
 
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 BT 
 
 . i t I - 
 
 WILLIAM M^THACKERAY. 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 
 D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 200 BROADWAY. 
 
 1852. 
 
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 PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 The following Papers are republished from 
 Frazer's Magazine for the year 1843, where 
 they appear, under one of the author's literary 
 devices, as the contributions of George Fitz- 
 Boodle. 
 
 New- York, September, 1852. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Frank Berry. 
 
 I. — The Fight at Slaughter-house, 9 
 
 II. — The Combat at Versailles, . . ■ • 19 
 
 The Ravenswing. 
 
 I. — Which is entirely introductory — Contains an ac- 
 count of Miss Crump, her Suitors, and her Fami- 
 ly Circle, 43 
 
 II. — In which Mr. "Walker makes three attempts to 
 
 ascertain the Dwelling of Morgiana, . . 71 
 
 III. — What came of Mr. Walker's Discovery of the 
 
 Bootjack, 88 
 
 IV. — In which the Heroine has a number more Lovers, 
 
 and cuts a very Dashing Figure in the World, 102 
 V. — In which Mr. Walker falls into Difficulties, and 
 Mrs. Walker makes many Foolish Attempts to 
 
 Rescue Him, 128 
 
 VI. — In which Mr. Walker still remains in Difficulties, 
 but shows great Resignation under his Misfor- 
 tunes, 155 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 VII. — In which Morgiana advances towards Fame and 
 Honour, and in which several great Literary 
 Characters make their Appearance, . . 174 
 VIII. — In which Mr. Walker shows great Prudence and 
 
 Forbearance, . . . . . . .196 
 
 Dennis Haggarty's Wife, 216 
 
 The 's Wife, 245 
 
MEN'S WIVES. 
 
 MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 THE FIGHT AT SLAUGHTER-HOUSE. 
 
 I am very fond of reading about battles, and have 
 most of Marlborough's and Wellington's at my fingers' 
 end, but the most tremendous combat I ever saw, and 
 one that interests me to think of more than Malplaquet 
 or Waterloo (which, by the way, has grown to be a 
 downright nuisance, so much do men talk of it after 
 dinner, prating most disgustingly about " the Prussians 
 coming up," and what not), I say the most tremendous 
 combat ever known was that between Berry and Biggs 
 the gown-boy, which commenced in a certain place 
 called Middle Briars, which is situated in the midst of 
 the cloisters that run along the side of the play-ground 
 at Slaughter-house School, near Smithfield, London. It 
 was there, madam, that your humble servant had the 
 honor of acquiring, after six years' labor, that immense 
 1* 
 
10 men's wives. 
 
 fund of classical knowledge which in after life has been 
 so exceedingly useful to him. 
 
 The circumstances of the quarrel were these: — 
 Biggs, the gown-boy (a man that, in those days, I 
 thought was at least seven feet high, and was quite 
 thunder-struck to find in after life that he measured no 
 more than five feet four), was what we called " second 
 cock " of the school ; the first cock was a great, big, 
 good-humored, lazy, fair-haired fellow, Old Hawkins by 
 name, who, because he was large and good-humored, 
 hurt nobody. Biggs, on the contrary, was a sad 
 bully ; he had half-a-dozen fags, and beat them all 
 unmercifully. Moreover, he had a little brother, a 
 boarder in Potky's house, whom, as a matter of course, 
 he hated and maltreated worse than any one else. 
 
 Well, one day, because young Biggs had not 
 brought his brother his hoops, or had not caught a 
 ball at cricket, or for some other equally good reason, 
 Biggs the elder so belabored the poor little fellow, that 
 Berry, who was sauntering by, and saw the dread- 
 ful blows which the elder brother was dealing to the 
 younger with his hocky-stick, felt a compassion for the 
 little fellow (perhaps he had a jealousy against Biggs, 
 and wanted to try a few rounds with him, but that I 
 can't vouch for) ; however, Berry passing by, stopped 
 and said, " Don't you think you have thrashed the boy 
 enough, Biggs V He spoke this in a very civil tone, 
 for he never would have thought of interfering rudely 
 with the sacred privilege that an upper boy at a public 
 school always has of beating a junior, especially when 
 they happen to be brothers. 
 
 The reply of Biggs, as might be expected, was to 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 11 
 
 hit young Biggs with the hocky-stick twice as hard as 
 before, until the little wretch howled with pain. " I 
 suppose it's no business of yours, Berry," said Biggs, 
 thumping away all the while, and laid on worse and 
 worse. 
 
 Until Berry (and, indeed, little Biggs) could bear it 
 no longer, and the former, bouncing forwards, wrenched 
 the stick out of old Biggs' hands, and sent it whirling 
 out of the cloister window, to the great wonder of a 
 crowd of us small boys, who were looking on. Little 
 boys always like to see a little companion of their own 
 soundly beaten. 
 
 " There !" said Berry, looking into Biggs' face, as 
 much as to say, " I've gone and done it ;" and he 
 added to the brother, "Scud away, you little thief! I've 
 saved you this time." 
 
 " Stop, young Biggs !" roared out his brother, after 
 a pause ; "and I'll break every bone in your infernal, 
 scoundrelly skin !" 
 
 Young Biggs looked at Berry, then at his brother, 
 then came at his brother's order, as if back to be beaten 
 again, but lost heart and ran away as fast as his little 
 legs could carry him. 
 
 " I'll do for him another time," said Biggs. " Here, 
 under boy, take my coat;" and we all began to gather 
 round and formed a ring. 
 
 " We had better wait till after school, Biggs," cried 
 I3erry, quite cool, but looking a little pale. " There are 
 only five minutes now, and it will take you more than 
 that to thrash me." 
 
 Biggs upon this committed a great error, for he 
 struck Berry slightly across the face with the back of 
 
12 men's wives. 
 
 his hand, saying, M You are in a fright" But this was 
 a feeling which Frank Berry did not in the least enter- 
 tain, for in reply to Biggs' back-hander, and as quick 
 as thought, and with all his might and main — pong! 
 he delivered a blow upon old Biggs' nose that made 
 the claret spurt, and sent the second cock down to the 
 ground as if he had been shot. 
 
 He was up again, however, in a minute, his face 
 white and gashed with blood, his eyes glaring a ghastly 
 spectacle; and Berry, meanwhile, had taken his coat 
 off, and by this time there were gathered in the clois- 
 ters, on all the windows, and upon each other's shoul- 
 ders, one hundred and twenty young gentlemen at the 
 very least, for the news had gone out through the play- 
 ground of " a fight between Berry and Briggs." 
 
 But Berry was quite right in his remark about the 
 propriety of deferring the business, for at this minute 
 Mr. Chip, the second master, came down the cloisters 
 going into school, and grinned in his queer way as he 
 saw the state of Biggs' face. "Holloa, Mr. Biggs," 
 said he, " I suppose you have run against a finger-post." 
 That was the regular joke with us at school, and you 
 may be sure we all laughed heartily, as we always 
 did when Mr. Chip made a joke, or any thing like a 
 joke. " You had better go to the pump, sir, and get 
 yourself washed, and not let Dr. Muzzle see you in that 
 condition." So saying, Mr. Chip disappeared to his 
 duties in the under school, whither all we little boys 
 followed him. 
 
 It was Wednesday, a half-holiday, as every body 
 knows, and boiled beef day at Slaughter-house. I was 
 in the same boarding-house as Berry, and we all looked 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 13 
 
 to see whether he ate a good dinner, just as one would 
 examine a man who was going to be hanged. I recol- 
 lect, in after life, in Germany, seeing a friend who was 
 going to fight a duel, eat five larks for his breakfast, 
 and thought I had seldom witnessed greater courage. 
 Berry ate moderately of the boiled beef — boiled child 
 we used to call it at school, in our elegant, jocular way ; 
 he knew a great deal better than to load his stomach 
 upon the eve of such a contest as was going to take 
 place. 
 
 Dinner was very soon over, and Mr. Chip, who had 
 been all the while joking Berry, and pressing him to 
 eat, called him up into his study, to the great disap- 
 pointment of us all, for we thought he was going to 
 prevent the fight, but no such thing. The Rev. Edward 
 Chip took Berry into his study, and poured him out 
 two glasses of port wine, wdiich he made him take with 
 a biscuit, and patted him on the back, and went off. I 
 have no doubt he was longing, like all of us, to see the 
 battle, but etiquette, you know, forbade. 
 
 When we went out into the green, old Hawkins 
 was there — the great Hawkins, the cock of the school. 
 I have never seen the man since, but still think of him as 
 of something awful, gigantic, mysterious ; he who could 
 thrash every body, who could beat all the masters : how 
 we longed for him to put in his hand and lick Muzzle ! 
 He was a dull boy, not very high in the school, and 
 had all his exercises written for him. Muzzle knew 
 this, but Muzzle respected him, never called him up to 
 read Greek plays ; passed over all his blunders, which 
 were many ; let him go out of half-holidays into the 
 town as he pleased ; how should any man dare to stop 
 
14 men's wives. 
 
 him — the great, calm, magnanimous, silent Strength ! 
 They say he licked a Life-Guardsman, I wonder whether 
 it was Shaw, who killed all those Frenchmen ? no, it 
 couldn't be Shaw, for he was dead au champ d'hon- 
 neur ; but he would have licked Shaw if he had been 
 alive. A bargeman I know he licked, at Jack Randall's 
 in Slaughter-house Lane. Old Hawkins was too lazy to 
 play at cricket ; he sauntered all day in the sunshine 
 about the green, accompanied by little Tippins, who 
 was in the sixth form, laughed and joked at Hawkins 
 eternally, and was the person who wrote all his exercises. 
 
 Instead of going into town this afternoon, Hawkins 
 remained at Slaughter-house to see the great fight 
 between the second and third cocks. 
 
 The different masters of the school kept boarding- 
 houses (such as Potky's, Chip's, Wicken's, Pinney's 
 and so on), and the play-ground, or "green," as it was 
 called, although the only thing green about the place 
 was the broken glass on the walls that separate Slaugh- 
 ter-house from Wilderness Row and G-oswell Street. 
 (Many a time have I seen Mr. Pickwick look out of his 
 window in that street, though w 7 e did not know him 
 then.) The play-ground, or green, was common to ail. 
 But if any stray boy from Potky's was found, for in- 
 stance, in, or entering into, Chip's house, the most 
 dreadful tortures were practised upon him, as I can 
 answer in my own case. 
 
 Fancy, then, our astonishment at seeing a little 
 three-foot wretch, of the name of Wills, one of Haw- 
 kins's fags (they were both in Potky's), walk undis- 
 mayed amongst us lions at Chip's house, as the " rich 
 and rare" young lady did in Ireland. We were going 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 15 
 
 to set upon him and devour or otherwise maltreat him, 
 when he cried out in a little, shrill, impertinent voice, 
 " Tell Berry I want him" 
 
 We all roared with laughter. Berry was in the 
 sixth form, and Wills or any under boy would as soon 
 have thought of " wanting " him, as I should of want- 
 ing the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 Little Wills looked round in an imperious kind of 
 way. "Well," says he, stamping his foot, "do you 
 hear ? Tell Berry that Hawkins wants him" 
 
 As for resisting the law of Hawkins, you might as 
 soon think of resisting immortal Jove. Berry and Tol- 
 rnash, who was to be his bottle-holder, made their ap- 
 pearance immediately, and walked out into the green 
 where Hawkins was waiting, and, with an irresistible 
 audacity that only belonged to himself, in the face of 
 nature and all the regulations of the place, was smok- 
 ing a cigar. When Berry and Tolmash found him, 
 the three began slowly pacing up and down in the sun- 
 shine, and we little boys watched them. 
 
 Hawkins moved his arms and hands every now and 
 then, and was evidently laying down the law about 
 boxing. We saw his fists darting out every now and 
 then with mysterious swiftness, hitting one, two, quick 
 as thought, as if in the face of an adversary ; now his 
 left hand went up, as if guarding his own head, now 
 his immense right fist dreadfully flapped the air, as if 
 punishing his imaginary opponent's miserable ribs. 
 The conversation lasted for some ten minutes, about 
 which time gown-boys' dinner was over, and we saw 
 these youths in their black, horned-button jackets and 
 knee-breeches, issuing from their door in the cloisters. 
 
16 men's wives. 
 
 There were no hoops, no cricket-bats, as usual on a 
 half- holiday. Who would have thought of play in ex- 
 pectation of such tremendous sport as was in store 
 for us ? 
 
 Towering among the gown-boys, of whom he was 
 the head and the tyrant, leaning upon Bushby's arm, 
 and followed at a little distance by many curious, pale, 
 awe-stricken boys, dressed in his black silk stockings, 
 which he always sported, and with a crimson bandanna 
 tied round his waist, came Biggs. His nose was swol- 
 len with the blow given before school, but his eyes 
 flashed fire. He was laughing and sneering with 
 Bushby, and evidently intended to make minced meat 
 of Berry. 
 
 The betting began pretty freely : the bets were 
 against poor Berry. Five to three were offered — in 
 ginger-beer. I took six to four in raspberry open tarts. 
 The upper boys carried the thing farther still ; and I 
 know for a fact, that Swang's book amounted to four 
 pound three (but he hedged a good deal), and Tittery 
 lost seventeen shillings in a single bet to Pitts, who 
 took the odds. 
 
 As Biggs and his party arrived, I heard Hawkins 
 say to Berry, " For Heaven's sake, my boy, fib with 
 with your right, and mind his left hand /" 
 
 Middle Briars was voted to be too confined a space 
 for the combat, and it was agreed that it should take 
 place behind the under-school in the shade, whither we 
 all went. Hawkins, with his immense silver hunting- 
 watch, kept the time ; and water was brought from the 
 pump close to Notley's the pastry-cook's, who did not 
 admire fistycuffs at all on half- holidays, for the fights 
 
MR. AND MRS. PRANK BERRY. 17 
 
 kept the boys away from his shop. Gutley was the 
 only fellow in the school who remained faithful to him, 
 and he sat on the counter — the great gormandising 
 beast ! — eating tarts the whole day. 
 
 This famous fight, as every Slaughter-house man 
 knows, lasted for two hours and twenty-nine minutes, 
 by Hawkins's immense watch. All this time the air 
 resounded with cries of " Go it, Berry ! Go it, Biggs ! 
 Pitch into him ! Give it him !" and so on. Shall I 
 describe the hundred and two rounds of the combat ? — 
 No ! — Fraser must publish a supplement, and the taste 
 for such descriptions has passed away.* 
 
 1st round. Both the combatants fresh, and in 
 prime order. The weight and inches somewhat on 
 the gown-boy's side. Berry goes gallantly in, and 
 delivers a clinker on the gown-boy's jaw. Biggs 
 makes play with his left. Berry down. 
 
 * % % * 
 
 4th round. Claiet drawn in profusion from the 
 gown-boy's grog-shop. (He went down, and spit his 
 front tooth into a pewter basin at the end of this round, 
 but the blow cut Berry's knuckles a great deal.) 
 
 * # * % 
 
 15th round. Chancery. Fibbing. Biggs makes 
 dreadful work with his left. Break away. Rally. 
 Biggs down. Betting still six to four on the gown- 
 boy. 
 
 * As it is very probable that many fair readers may not 
 approve of the extremely forcible language in which the com- 
 bat is depicted, I beg them to skip it and pass on to the next 
 chapter, and to remember that it has been modelled on the 
 style of the very best writers of the sporting papers. 
 
18 men's wives. 
 
 20th round. The men both dreadfully punished. 
 Berry somewhat shy of his adversary's left hand. 
 
 * * ' * * 
 
 29th to 42d round. The Chipsite all this while 
 breaks away from the gown-boy's left, and goes down 
 on a knee. Six to four on the gown-boy, until the 
 fortieth round, when the bets became equal. 
 
 102d and last round. For half-an-hour the men 
 had stood up to each other, but were almost too weary 
 to strike. The gown-boy's face hardly to be recognized, 
 swollen and streaming with blood. The Chipsite in a 
 similar condition, and still more punished about the 
 side from his enemy's left hand. Berry gives a blow 
 at his adversary's face, and falls over him as he falls. 
 
 The gown boy can't come up to time. And thus 
 ended the great fight of Berry and Biggs. 
 
 * % % % 
 
 * % * - * 
 
 And what, pray, has this horrid description of a 
 battle and a parcel of school-boys to do with MerCs 
 Wives, the title at the head of this paper ? 
 
 What has it to do with Men's Wives ? — A great 
 deal more, madam, than you think for. Only read 
 Chapter II., and you shall hear. 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 19 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE COMBAT AT VERSAILLES. 
 
 I afterwards came to be Berry's fag, and, though 
 beaten by him daily, he allowed, of course, no one else 
 to lay a hand upon me, and I got no more thrashing 
 than was good for me. Thus an intimacy grew up 
 between us, and after he left Slaughter-house and went 
 into the dragoons, the honest fellow did not forget his 
 old friend, but actually made his appearance one day 
 in the playground in mustachios and a braided coat, 
 and gave me a gold pencil-case and a couple of sove- 
 reigns. I blushed when I took them, but take them I 
 did ; and I think the thing I almost best recollect in 
 my life, is the sight of Berry getting behind an im- 
 mense bay cab-horse, which was held by a correct little 
 groom, and was waiting near the school in Slaughter- 
 house Square. He proposed, too, to have me to 
 Long's, where he was lodging for the time ; but this 
 invitation was refused in my behalf by Dr. Muzzle, who 
 said, and possibly with correctness, that I should get 
 little good by spending my holiday with such a scape- 
 grace. 
 
 Once afterwards he came to see me at Christchurch, 
 and we made a show of writing to one another, and 
 didn't, and always had a hearty mutual good-will ; and 
 though we did not quite burst into tears on parting, 
 were yet quite happy when occasion threw us together, 
 
20 men's wives. 
 
 and' so almost lost sight of each other. I heard lately 
 that Berry was married, and am rather ashamed to 
 say, that I was not so curious as even to ask the 
 maiden name of his lady. 
 
 Last summer I was at Paris, and had gone over to 
 Versailles to meet a party, one of which was a young 
 lady to whom I was tenderly * * * * * * 
 But, never mind. The day was rainy, and the party 
 did not keep its appointment ; and after yawning 
 through the interminable palace picture-galleries, and 
 then making an attempt to smoke a cigar in the palace- 
 garden — for which crime I was nearly run through the 
 body by a rascally sentinel — I was driven, perforce, into 
 the great, bleak, lonely Place before the palace, with its 
 roads branching off to all the towns in the world, which 
 Louis and Napoleon once intended to conquer, and 
 there enjoyed my favourite pursuit at leisure, and was 
 meditating whether I should go back to Vefour's for 
 dinner, or patronise my friend M. Duboux of the Hotel 
 des Reservoirs, who gives not only a good dinner, but 
 as dear a one as heart can desire. I was, I say, medi- 
 tating these things, when a carriage passed by. It was 
 a smart, low calash, with a pair of bay horses and a 
 postillion in a drab jacket, that twinkled with innu- 
 merable buttons ; and I was too much occupied in ad- 
 miring the build of the machine, and the extreme 
 tightness of the fellow's inexpressibles, to look at the 
 personages within the carriage, when the gentleman 
 roared out " Fitz !" and the postillion pulled up, and 
 the lady gave a shrill scream, and a little black-muz- 
 zled spaniel began barking and yelling with all his 
 might, and a man with moustachios jumped out of the 
 vehicle, and began shaking me by the hand. 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 21 
 
 " Drive home, John," said the gentleman ; " I'll be 
 with you, my love, in an instant — it's an old friend. 
 Fitz, let me present you to Mrs. Berry." 
 
 The lady made an exceedingly gentle inclination of 
 her black velvet bonnet, and said, " Pray, my love, re- 
 member that it is just dinner-time. However, never 
 mind me? And with another slight toss and a nod to 
 the postillion, that individual's white leather breeches 
 began to jump up and down again in the saddle, and 
 the carriage disappeared, leaving me shaking my old 
 friend Berry by the hand. 
 
 He had long quitted the army, but still wore his 
 military beard, which gave to his fair pink face a fierce 
 and lion-like look. He was extraordinarily glad to see 
 me, as only men are glad who live in a small town, or 
 in dull company, There is no destroyer of friendships 
 like London, where a man has no time to think of his 
 neighbour, and has far too many friends to care for 
 them. He told me in a breath of his marriage, and 
 how happy he was, and straight insisted that I must 
 come home to dinner, and see more of Angelica, who 
 had invited me herself — didn't I hear her ? 
 
 " Mrs. Berry asked you, Frank, but I certainly did 
 not hear her ask me /" 
 
 " She would not have mentioned the dinner but 
 that she meant me to ask you. I know she did," cried 
 Frank Berry. " And, besides — hang it — I'm master of 
 the house. So come you shall. JSTo ceremony, old 
 boy — one or two friends — snug family party — and we'll 
 talk of old times over a bottle of claret." 
 
 There did not seem to me to be the slightest ob- 
 jection to this arrangement, except that my boots were 
 
22 men's wives. 
 
 muddy, and my coat of the morning sort. But as it 
 was quite impossible to go to Paris and back again in 
 a quarter of an hour, and as a man may dine with per- 
 fect comfort to himself in a frock-coat, it did not occur 
 to me to be particularly squeamish, or to decline an old 
 friend's invitation upon a pretext so trivial. 
 
 Accordingly we walked to a small house in the 
 Avenue de Paris, and were admitted first into a small 
 garden ornamented by a grotto, a fountain, and several 
 nymphs in plaster of Paris, then up a mouldy old steep 
 stair into a hall, where a statue of Cupid and another 
 of Venus welcomed us with their eternal simper ; then 
 through a salle-a-manger, where covers were laid for 
 six ; and finally to a little salon, where Fido the dog 
 began to howl furiously according to his wont. 
 
 It was one of the old pavilions that had been built 
 for a pleasure-house in the gay days of Versailles, or- 
 namented with abundance of damp Cupids and cracked 
 gilt cornices, and old mirrors let into the walls, and 
 gilded once, but now painted a dingy French white. 
 The long low windows looked into the court where the 
 fountain played its ceaseless dribble, surrounded by nu- 
 merous rank creepers and weedy flowers, but in the 
 midst of which the statues stood with their bases quite 
 moist and green. 
 
 I hate fountains and statues in dark, confined 
 places, that cheerless, endless plashing of water is the 
 most inhospitable sound ever heard. The stifF grin of 
 those French statues, or ogling Canova Graces, is by no 
 means more happy, I think, than the smile of a skele- 
 ton, and not so natural. Those little pavilions in which 
 the old roues sported, were never meant to be seen by 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 23 
 
 daylight, depend on't. They were lighted up with a 
 hundred wax-candles, and the little fountain yonder 
 was meant only to cool that claret. And so, my first 
 impression of Berry's place of abode was rather a dis- 
 mal one. However, I heard him in the salle-a-manger 
 drawing the corks which went of with a cloop, and that 
 consoled me. 
 
 As for the furniture of the rooms appertaining to 
 the Berrys, there was a harp in a leather case, and a 
 piano, and a flute-box, and a huge tambour with a 
 Saracen's nose just begun, and likewise on the table a 
 multiplicity of those little gilt books half sentimental 
 and half religious, which the wants of the age and of 
 our young ladies have produced in such numbers of 
 late. I quarrel with no lady's taste in that way ; but 
 heigho ! I had rather that Mrs. Fitz-Boodle should read 
 Humphrey Clinker ! 
 
 Besides these works, there was a Peerage, of course. 
 What genteel family was ever without one ? 
 
 I was making for the door to see Frank drawing 
 the corks, and was bounced at by the amiable little 
 black-muzzled spaniel, who fastened his teeth in my 
 pantaloons, and received a polite kick in consequence, 
 which sent him howling to the other end of the room, 
 and the animal was just in the act of performing that 
 feat of agility, when the door opened and madame made 
 her appearance. Frank came behind her peering over 
 her shoulder with rather an anxious look. 
 
 Mrs. Berry is an exceedingly white and lean person. 
 She has thick eyebrows which meet rather dangerously 
 over her nose, which is Grecian, and a small mouth 
 with no lips — a sort of feeble pucker in the face, as it 
 
24 
 
 were. Under her eyebrows are a pair of enormous 
 eyes, w r hich she is in the habit of turning constantly 
 ceilingwards. Her hair is rather scarce and worn in 
 bandeaux, and she commonly mounts a sprig of laurel, 
 or a dark flower or two, which, with the sham-tour — I 
 believe that is the name of the knob of artificial hair 
 that many ladies sport — gives her a rigid and classical 
 look. She is dressed in black, and has invariably the 
 neatest of silk stockings and shoes ; for forsooth her foot 
 is a fine one, and she always sits with it before her, 
 looking at it, stamping it, and admiring it a great deal. 
 " Fido," she says to her spaniel, "you have almost 
 crushed my poor foot ;•' or, " Frank," to her husband, 
 " bring me a foot-stool ;" or, " I suffer so from cold in 
 the feet," and so forth ; but be the conversation what it 
 will, she is always sure to put her foot into it. 
 
 She invariably wears on her neck the miniature of 
 her late father, Sir George Catacomb, apothecary to 
 George III. ; and she thinks those two men the greatest 
 the world ever saw. She was born in Baker Street, 
 Portman Square, and that is saying almost enough of 
 her. She is as long, as genteel, and as dreary, as that 
 deadly-lively place, and sports, by way of ornament, her 
 papa's hatchment, as it were, as every tenth Baker 
 Street house has taught her. 
 
 What induced such a jolly fellow as Frank Berry 
 to marry Miss Angelica Catacomb no one can tell. He 
 met her, he says, at a ball at Hampton Court, where 
 his regiment was quartered," and where, to this day, 
 lives "her aunt Lady Pash." She alludes perpetually 
 in conversation to that celebrated lady ; and if you look 
 in the Baronetage to the pedigree of the Pash family, 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 25 
 
 you may see manuscript notes by Mrs. Frank Berry, 
 relative to them and herself. Thus, when you see in 
 print that Sir John Pash married Angelica, daughter of 
 Graves Catacomb, Esq., in a neat hand you find writ- 
 ten, and sister of the late Sir George Catacomb, of 
 Baker Street, Portman Square ; "A. B." follows of 
 course. It is a wonder how fond ladies are of writing 
 in books and signing their charming initials ! Mrs. 
 Berry's before-mentioned little gilt books are scored 
 with pencil-marks, or occasionally at the margin with a ! 
 — note of interjection, or the words " too true, A. JB" 
 and so on. Much may be learned with regard to lovely 
 women by a look at the books she reads in ; and I had 
 gained no inconsiderable knowledge of Mrs. Berry by 
 the ten minutes spent in the drawing-room, while she 
 was at her toilet in the adjoining bed-chamber. 
 
 " You have often heard me talk of George Fitz," 
 says Berry, with an appealing look to madame. 
 
 " Very often," answered his lady, in a tone which 
 clearly meant "a great deal too much." "Pray, sir," 
 continued she, looking at my boots with all her might, 
 " are we to have your company at dinner ?" 
 
 " Of course you are, my dear ; what else do you 
 think he came for ? You would not have the man go 
 back to Paris to get his evening coat, would you ?" 
 
 " At least, my love, I hope you will go and put on 
 yours, and change those muddy boots. Lady Pash will 
 be here in five minutes, and you know Dobus is as 
 punctual as clock-work." Then turning to me with a 
 sort of apology that was as consoling as a box on the 
 ear, " We have some friends at dinner, sir, who are 
 rather particular persons ; but T am sure when they 
 2 
 
26 men's wives. 
 
 hear that you only came on a sudden invitation, they 
 will excuse your morning-dress. — Bah, what a smell 
 of smoke !" 
 
 With this speech madame placed herself majestically 
 on a sofa, put out her foot, called Ficlo, and relapsed 
 into an icy silence. Frank had long since evacuated 
 the premises, with a rueful look at his wife, but never 
 daring to cast a glance at me. I saw the whole busi- 
 ness at once; here was this lion of a fellow tamed 
 down by a she Van Amburgh, and fetching and carry- 
 ing at her orders a great deal more obediently than her 
 little yowling black-muzzled darling of a Fido. 
 
 I am not, however, to be tamed so easily, and was 
 determined in this instance not to be in the least dis- 
 concerted, or to show the smallest sign of ill-humor : so 
 to renouer the conversation, I began about Lady Pash. 
 
 " I heard you mention the name of Pash, I think," 
 said I ; "I know a lady of that name, and a very ugly 
 one it is too." 
 
 "It is most probably not the same person," an- 
 swered Mrs. Berry, with a look which intimated that a 
 fellow like me could never have had the honor to know 
 so exalted a person. 
 
 " I mean old Lady Pash of Hampton Court. Fat 
 woman — fair, ain't she — and wears an amethyst in 
 her forehead, has one eye, a blond wig % , and dresses in 
 light green ?" 
 
 " Lady Pash, sir, is my aunt," answered Mrs. Berry 
 (not altogether displeased, although she expected money 
 from the old lady ; but you know we love to hear our 
 friends abused when it can be safely done). 
 
 " O indeed ! she was a daughter of old Catacomb's 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 27 
 
 of Windsor, I remember, the undertaker. They called 
 her husband Callipash, and her ladyship Pishpash. So 
 you see, madam, that I know the whole family !" 
 
 " Mr. Fitzsimons !" exclaimed Mrs. Berry, rising, 
 " I am not accustomed to hear nick-names applied to 
 myself and my family ; and must beg you, when you 
 honor us with your company, to spare our feelings as 
 much as possible. Mr. Catacomb had the confidence of 
 his sovereign, sir, and Sir John Pash was of Charles 
 II.'s creation. The one was my uncle, sir, the other 
 my grandfather !" 
 
 " My dear madam, I am extremely sorry, and most 
 sincerely apologize for my inadvertence. But you owe 
 me an apology too ; my name is not Fitz-Simons but 
 Fitz-Boodle." 
 
 " What ! of Boodle Hall — my husband's old 
 friend ; of Charles L's creation ? My dear sir, I beg 
 you a thousand pardons, and am delighted to welcome 
 a person of whom I have heard Frank say so much. 
 Frank (to Berry, who soon entered in very glossy boots 
 and a white waistcoat), do you know, darling, I mistook 
 Mr. Fitz-Boodle for Mr. Fitz-Simons — that horrid Irish 
 horse-dealing person ; and I never, never, never can 
 pardon myself for being so rude to him." 
 
 The big eyes here assumed an expression that was 
 intended to kill me outright with kindness — from 
 being calm, still, reserved, Angelica suddenly became 
 gay, smiling, confidential, and foldtre. She told me 
 she had heard I was a sad creature, and that she 
 intended to reform me, and that I must come and see 
 Frank a great deal. 
 
 Now, although Mr. Fitz-Simons, for whom I was 
 
28 men's wives. 
 
 mistaken, is as low a fellow as ever came out of Dublin, 
 and having been a captain in somebody's army, is now 
 a black-leg and horse-dealer by profession ; yet if I 
 had brought him home to Mrs. Fitz-Boodle to dinner, I 
 should have liked far better that that imaginary lady 
 should have received him with decent civility, and not 
 insulted the stranger within her husband's gates. And, 
 although it was delightful to be received so cordially 
 when the mistake was discovered, yet I found that all 
 Berry's old acquaintances were by no means so warmly 
 welcomed ; for another old school-chum presently made 
 his appearance, who was treated in a very different 
 manner. 
 
 This was no other than poor Jack Butts, who is a 
 sort of small artist and picture-dealer by profession, and 
 was a day-boy at Slanghter-house when we were there, 
 and very serviceable in bringing in sausages, pots of 
 pickles, and other articles of merchandise, which we 
 could not otherwise procure. The poor fellow has been 
 employed, seeniingty, in the same office of fetcher and 
 carrier ever since ; and occupied that post for Mrs. 
 Berry. It was, " Mr. Butts, have you finished that 
 drawing for Lady Pash's album ?" and Butts produced 
 it ; and, " Did you match the silk for me at Delille's ?" 
 and there was the silk, bought, no doubt, with the poor 
 fellow's last five francs ; and, " Did you go to the 
 furniture man in the Rue St. Jacques ; and bring the 
 canary-seed, and call about my shawl at that odious 
 dawdling Madame Fichet's ; and have you brought the 
 guitar-strings V 
 
 Butts hadn't brought the guitar-strings ; and there- 
 upon Mrs. Berry's countenance assumed the same terri- 
 
to 
 
 MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 29 
 
 ble expression which I had formerly remarked in it, and 
 which made me tremble for Berry. 
 
 "My dear Angelica, though," said he with some 
 spirit, " Jack Butts isn't a baggage-wagon, nor a Jack- 
 of-all-trades, you make him paint pictures for your 
 women's albums, and look after your upholsterer, and 
 your canary-bird, and your milliners, and turn rusty 
 because he forgets your last message." 
 
 " I did not turn rusty, Frank, as you call it ele- 
 gantly. I'm very much obliged to Mr. Butts for per- 
 forming my commissions — very much obliged. And 
 as for not paying for the pictures to which you so 
 kindly allude, Frank, / should never have thought of 
 offering payment for so paltry a service ; but I'm sure 
 I shall be happy to pay if Mr. Butts will send me in 
 his bill." 
 
 " By Jove, Angelica, this is too much !" bounced 
 out Berry ; but the little matrimonial squabble was 
 abruptly ended, by Berry's French man flinging open 
 the door and announcing Miladi Pash and Doctor 
 Dobus, which two personages made their appearance. 
 
 The person of old Pash has been already paren- 
 thetically described. But quite different from her dismal 
 niece in temperament, she is as jolly an old widow as 
 ever w r ore weeds. She was attached somehow to the 
 court, and has a multiplicity of stories about the prin- 
 cesses and the old king, to w 7 hich Mrs. Berry never fails 
 to call your attention in her grave, important way. 
 Lady Pash has ridden many a time to the Windsor 
 hounds: she made her husband become a member of 
 the four-in-hand club, and has numberless stories about 
 
30 men's wives. 
 
 Sir Godfrey Webster, Sir John Lade, and the old heroes 
 of those times. She has lent a rouleau to Dick Sheridan, 
 and remembers Lord Byron when he was a sulky slim 
 young lad. She says Charles Fox was the pleasantest 
 fellow she ever met with, and has not the slightest 
 objection to inform you that one of the princes was very 
 much in love with her. Yet somehow she is only fifty- 
 two years old, and I have never been able to understand 
 her calculation. One day or other before her eye went 
 out, and before those pearly teeth of hers were stuck to 
 her gums by gold, she must have been a pretty-looking 
 body enough. Yet in spite of the latter inconvenience, 
 she eats and drinks too much every day, and tosses off 
 a glass of maraschino with a trembling, pudgy hand, 
 every finger of which twinkles with a dozen, at least, of 
 old rings. She has a story about every one of those 
 rings, and a stupid one too. But there is always some- 
 thing pleasant, I think, in stupid family stories : they 
 are good-hearted people who tell them. 
 
 As for Mrs. Muchit, nothing need be said of her : 
 she is Pash's companion, she has lived with Lady Pash 
 since the peace. JSTor does my lady take any more 
 notice of her than of the dust of the earth. She calls 
 her "poor Muchit," and considers her a half-witted 
 creature. Mrs. Berry hates her cordially, and thinks 
 she is a designing toad-eater, who has formed a con- 
 spiracy to rob her of her aunt's fortune. She never 
 spoke a word to poor Muchit during the whole of din- 
 ner, or offered to help her to any thing on the table. 
 
 In respect to Dobus, he is an old Peninsular man, 
 as you are made to know before you have been very 
 
MK. AND MHS. FRANK BERRY. 31 
 
 long in his company ; and, like most army surgeons, is 
 a great deal more military in his looks and conversation 
 than the combatant part of the forces. He has adopted 
 the sham-Duke-of- Wellington air, which is by no means 
 uncommon in veterans ; and though one of the easiest 
 and softest fellows in existence, speaks slowly and brie%, 
 and raps out an oath or two occasionally, as it is said a 
 certain great captain does. Besides the above, we sat 
 down to table with Captain Goff, late of the — High- 
 landers ; the Rev. Lemuel Whe} r , who preaches at St. 
 Germains ; little Cutler, and the Frenchman, who al- 
 ways will be at English parties on the Continent, and 
 who, after making some frightful efforts to speak En- 
 glish, subsides and is heard of no more. Young mar- 
 ried ladies and heads of families generally have him for 
 the purpose of waltzing, and in return he informs his 
 friends of the club or the cafe that he has made the 
 conquest of a charmdnte Anglaise. Listen to me, all 
 family men who read this ! and never let an unmarried 
 Frenchman into your doors. This lecture alone is worth 
 the price of the whole paper. It is not that they do any 
 harm in one case out of a thousand, Heaven forbid ! 
 but they mean harm. They look on our Susannahs 
 with unholy, dishonest eyes. Hearken to two of the 
 grinning rogues chattering together as they clink over 
 the asphalte of the Boulevard with lacquered boots, and 
 plastered hair, and waxed moustachios, and turned-down 
 shirt-collars, and stays and goggling eyes, and hear how 
 they talk of a good, simple, giddy, vain, dull, Baker 
 Street creature, and canvas her points, and show her 
 letters, and insinuate — never mind, but I tell you my 
 soul grows angry when I think of the same ; and I 
 
32 men's wives. 
 
 can't hear of an Englishwoman marrying a Frenchman 
 without feeling a sort of shame and pity for her.* 
 
 To return to the guests. The Bev. Lemuel Whey 
 is a tea-party man, with a curl on his forehead and ?- 
 scented pocket-handkerchief. He ties his white neck 
 cloth to a wonder, and I believe sleeps in it. He brings 
 his flute with him ; and prefers Handel, of course ; but 
 has one or two pet profane songs of the sentimental 
 kind, and will occasionally lift up his little pipe in 9 
 glee. He does not dance, but the honest fellow would 
 give the world to do it ; and he leaves his clogs in the 
 passage, though it is a wonder he wears them, for in th< 
 muddiest weather he never has a speck on his foot 
 He was at St. John's College, Cambridge, and wa? 
 rather gay for a term or two, he says. He is, in a 
 word, full of the milk-and-water of human kindness, and 
 his family lives near Hackney. 
 
 As for Goff, he has a huge shining bald forehead, 
 and immense bristling Indian-red whiskers. He wears 
 white wash-leather gloves, drinks fairly, likes a rubber 
 and has a story for after dinner, beginning, " Doctor, ye 
 racklackt Saundy M'Lellan, who joined us in the Wast 
 Indies. Wal, sir," &c. These and little Cutler mad^ 
 up the party. 
 
 * Every person who has lived abroad, cao, of course, point 
 out a score of honourable exceptions to the case above hinted at 
 and knows many such unions in which it is the Frenchman who 
 honours the English lady by marrying her. But it must be remem- 
 bered that marrying in France means commonlyfortune-kwitincf ; 
 and as for the respect in which marriage is held in France, let all 
 the French novels in M. Rolandi's library be perused by those 
 who wish to come to a decision upon the question. The nation 
 has repealed the seventh commandment. 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 33 
 
 Now it may not have struck all readers, but any 
 sharp fellow conversant with writing must have found 
 out long ago, that if there had been something exceed- 
 ingly interesting to narrate with regard to this dinner at 
 Frank Berry's, I should have come out with it a couple 
 of pages since, nor have kept the public looking for so 
 Jong a time at the dish-covers and ornaments of the 
 table. 
 
 But the simple fact must now be told, that there 
 was nothing of the slightest importance occurred at this 
 repast, except that it gave me an opportunity of study- 
 ing Mrs. Berry in many different ways, and in spite of 
 the extreme complaisance which she now showed me, 
 and of forming, I am sorry to say, a most unfavorable 
 opinion of that fair lady; for, truth to tell, I would 
 much rather she should have been civil to Mrs. Muchit, 
 than outrageously complimentary to your humble ser- 
 vant ; and, as she professed not to know what on earth 
 there was for dinner, would it not have been much more 
 natural for her not to frown, and bob, and wink, and 
 point, and pinch her lips as often as Monsieur Anatole, 
 her French domestic, not knowing the ways of English 
 dinner-tables, placed any thing out of its due order ? 
 The allusions to Boodle Hall were innumerable, and I 
 don't know any greater bore than to be obliged to talk 
 of a place which belongs to one's elder brother. Many 
 questions were likewise asked about the dowager and 
 her Scotch relatives, the Plumduffs, about whom Lady 
 Pash knew a great deal, having seen them at court and 
 at Lord Melville's. Of course she had seen them at 
 court and at Lord Melville's, as she might have seen 
 thousands of Scotchmen beside ; but what mattered it 
 2* 
 
34 men's wives. 
 
 to me, who care not a jot for old Lady Fitz-Boodle ? 
 " When you write, you'll say you met an old friend of 
 her ladyship's," says Mrs. Berry, and I faithfully prom- 
 ised I would when I wrote ; but if the New Post-Office 
 paid us for writing letters (as very possibly it will soon), 
 I could not be bribed to send a line to old Lady Fitz. 
 
 In a word I found that Berry, like many simple 
 fellows before him, had made choice of an imperious, 
 ill-humoured, and under-bred female for a wife, and 
 could see with half an eye that he was a great deal too 
 much her slave. 
 
 The struggle was not over yet, however. "Witness 
 that little encounter before dinner; and once or twice 
 the honest fellow replied rather smartly during the 
 repast, taking especial care to atone as much as possible 
 for his wife's inattention to Jack and Mrs. Muchit, by 
 particular attention to those personages, whom he 
 helped to every thing round about and pressed perpetu- 
 ally to champagne; he drank but little himself, for his 
 amiable wife's eye was constantly fixed on him. 
 
 Just at the conclusion of the dessert, madame, who 
 had houded Berry during dinner-time, became particu- 
 larly gracious to her lord and master, and tenderly 
 asked me if I did not think the French custom was a 
 good one, of men leaving table with the ladies. 
 
 " Upon my word, ma'am," says I, " I think it's n 
 most abominable practice." 
 
 "And so do I," says Cutler. 
 
 " A most abominable practice ! Do you hear that V 
 cries Berry, laughing, and filling his glass. 
 
 " I'm sure, Frank, when we are alone you always 
 come to the drawing-room," replies the lady, sharply. 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 35 
 
 u Oh, yes ! when we're alone, darling," says Berry, 
 blushing ; " but now we're not alone — ha, ha ! Anatole, 
 <lu Bordeaux !" 
 
 " I'm sure they sat after the ladies at Carlton House ; 
 didn't they, Lady Pash ?" says Dobus, who likes his 
 glass. 
 
 " That they did !" say my lady, giving him a jolly 
 nod. 
 
 "I racklackt," exclaims Captain Goff, "when I was 
 in the Mauritius, that Mu stress MacWhirter, who com- 
 manded the Saxty-Sackond, used to say, ' Mac, if ye 
 want to get lively, ye'll not stop for more than two hours 
 after the leddies have laft ye: if ye want to get drunk, 
 ye'll just dine at the mass.' So ye see, Mestress Burry, 
 what was Mac's allowance — haw, haw ! Mester Whey, 
 I'll trouble ye for the o-lives." 
 
 But although we were in a clear majority, that in- 
 domitable woman, Mrs. Berry, determined to make us 
 all as uneasy as possible, and would take the votes all 
 round. Poor Jack, of course, sided with her, and Whey 
 said he loved a cup of tea and a little music better than 
 all the wine of Bordeaux. As for the Frenchman, when 
 Mrs. Berry said, "And what do you think, M. le 
 Vicomte ?" 
 
 " Vat you speak ?" said M. de Blagueval, breaking 
 silence for the first time during two hours ; " yase — eh \ 
 to me you speak ?" 
 
 " Apry deeny, aimy voo ally avec les dam F* 
 
 " Comment avec les dames V 
 
 " Ally avec les dam com a Parry, ou resty avec les 
 Messew com on Onglyterre?" 
 
 " Ah, madame ! vous me le demandez V cries the 
 
36 men's wives. 
 
 little wretch, starting up in a theatrical way ; and, 
 putting out his hand, which Mrs. Berry took, and with 
 this the ladies left the room. Old Lady Pash trotted 
 after her niece with her hand in Whey's, very much 
 wondering at such practices which were not in the least 
 in vogue in the reign of George III. 
 
 Mrs. Berry cast a glance of triumph at her husband, 
 at the defection ; and Berry was evidently annoyed that 
 three-eighths of his male forces had left him. 
 
 But fancy our delight and astonishment, when in a 
 minute they all three came back again ; the Frenchman 
 looking entirely astonished, and the parson and the 
 painter both very queer. The fact is, old downright 
 Lady Pash, who had never been in Paris in her life 
 before, and had no notion of being deprived of her usual 
 hour's respite and nap, said at once to Mrs. Berry, " My 
 dear Angelica, you're surely not going to keep these 
 three men here ? Send them back to the dining-room, 
 for I've a thousand things to say to you." And Angelica, 
 who expects to inherit her aunt's property, of course did 
 as she was bid ; on which the old lady fell into an easy 
 chair, and fell asleep immediately, — so soon, that is, as 
 the shout caused by the reappearance of the three gen- 
 tlemen in the dining-room had subsided. 
 
 I had meanwhile had some private conversation 
 with little Cutler regarding the character of Mrs. Berry. 
 " She's a regular screw," whispered he ; a regular tartar. 
 Berry shows fight, though, sometimes, and I've known 
 him have his own way for a week together. After din- 
 ner he is his own master, and hers when he has had 
 his share of wine ; and that's why she will never allow 
 him to drink any." 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY. 37 
 
 Was it a wicked or was it a noble and honourable 
 thought which came to us both at the same minute, to 
 rescue Berry from his captivity ? The ladies, of course, 
 will give their verdict according to their gentle natures ; 
 but I know what men of courage will think, and by 
 their jovial judgment will abide. 
 
 We received, then, the three lost sheep back into 
 our innocent fold again with the most joyous shouting 
 and cheering. We made Berry (who was, in truth, 
 nothing loth) order up I don't know how much more 
 claret. We obliged the Frenchman to drink malgre 
 lid ; and in the course of a short time we had poor 
 Whey in such a state of excitement, that he actually 
 volunteered to sing a song, which he said he had heard 
 at some very gay supper party at Cambridge, and which 
 begins : — 
 
 u A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
 A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
 A pye sat on a pear-tree, 
 
 Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, heigh-ho !" 
 
 Fancy Mrs. Berry's face as she looked in, in the 
 midst of that Bacchanalian ditty, when she saw no less 
 a person than the Rev. Lemuel Whey carolling it. 
 
 " Is it you, my dear V cries Berry, as brave now as 
 any Petruchio. " Come in, and sit down, and hear 
 Whey's song." 
 
 " Lady Pash is asleep, Frank," said she. 
 
 " Well, darling ! that's the very reason. Give Mrs. 
 Berry a glass, Jack, will you ?" 
 
 " Would you wake your aunt, sir ?" hissed out 
 madam. 
 
38 men's wives. 
 
 " Never mind me, love ! Pm awake, and like it /" 
 cried the venerable Lady Pash from the salon. " Sing 
 away, gentlemen !" 
 
 At which we all set up an audacious cheer ; and 
 Mrs. Berry flounced back to the drawing-room, but did 
 not leave the door open, that her aunt might hear our 
 melodies. 
 
 Berry had by this time arrived at that confidential 
 state to which a third bottle always brings the well- 
 regulated mind ; and he made a clean confession to 
 Cutler and myself of his numerous matrimonial annoy- 
 ances. He was not allowed to dine out, he said, and 
 but seldom to ask his friends to meet him at home. He 
 never dared smoke a cigar for the life of him, not even 
 in the stables. He spent the mornings dawdling in 
 eternal shops, the evenings at endless tea-parties, or in 
 reading poems or missionary tracts to his wife. He was 
 compelled to take physic whenever she thought he 
 looked a little pale, to change his shoes and stockings 
 whenever he came in from a walk. " Look here," said 
 he, opening his chest, and shaking his fist at Dobus ; 
 " look what Angelica and that infernal Dobus have 
 brought me to." 
 
 I thought it might be a flannel waistcoat into which 
 madam had forced him ; but it was worse : I give you 
 my word of honour it was & pitch-plaster ! 
 
 Vf e all roared at this, and the doctor as loud as any 
 one ; but he vowed that he had no hand in the pitch- 
 plaster. It was a favourite family remedy of the late 
 apothecary, Sir George Catacomb, and had been put 
 on by Mrs. Berry's own fair hands. 
 
 When Anatole came in with coffee, Berry was in 
 
MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERR^. 39 
 
 such high courage, that he told him to go to the deuce 
 with it ; and we never caught sight of Lady Pash more, 
 except, when muffled up to the nose, she passed through 
 the salle-a-manger to go to her carnage, in which Dobus 
 and the parson were likewise to be transported to Paris. 
 " Be a man, Frank," says she, " and hold your own," 
 for the good old lady had taken her nephew's part in 
 the matrimonial business ; " and you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, 
 come and see him often. You're a good fellow, take 
 old one-eyed Calipash's word for it. Shall I take you 
 to Paris ?" 
 
 Dear, kind Angelica, she had told her aunt all I 
 said! 
 
 " Don't go, George," says Berry, squeezing me by 
 the hand. So I said I was going to sleep at Versailles 
 that night ; but if she would give a convoy to Jack 
 Butts, it would be conferring a great obligation on him ; 
 with which favour the old lady accordingly complied, 
 saying to him, with great coolness, " Get up, and sit 
 with John in the rumble, Mr. What-dye-call-'em." The 
 fact is, the good old soul despises an artist as much as 
 she does a tailor. 
 
 Jack tripped to his place very meekly ; and " Re- 
 member Saturday," cried the doctor ; and, " Don't for- 
 get Thursday," exclaimed the divine, — " a bachelors' 
 party, you know." And so the cavalcade drove thun- 
 dering down the gloomy old Avenue de Paris. 
 
 The Frenchman, I forgot to say, had gone away ex- 
 ceedingly ill long since ; and the reminiscences of 
 " Thursday " and " Saturday " evoked by Dobus and 
 Whey, were, to tell the truth, parts of our conspiracy ; 
 for in the heat of Berry's courage, we had made him 
 promise to dine with us all round en gargon, with all 
 
40 men's wives. 
 
 except Captain GorT, who " racklacted " that he was en- 
 gaged every day for the next three weeks, as indeed he 
 is, to a thirty-sous ordinary which the gallant officer 
 frequents, when not invited elsewhere. 
 
 Cutler and I then were the last on the field ; and 
 though we were for moving away, Berry, whose vigour 
 had, if possible, been excited by the bustle and colloquy 
 in the night air, insisted upon dragging us back again, 
 and actually proposed a grill for supper ! 
 
 We found in the salle-a-manger a strong smell < f 
 an extinguished lamp, and Mrs. Berry was snuffing out 
 the candles on the sideboard. 
 
 " Hullo, my dear !" shouts Berry ; " easily, if you 
 please ! we've not done yet !" 
 
 " Not done yet, Mr. Berry I" groans the lady, in a 
 hollow, sepulchral tone. 
 
 " No, Mrs. B., not done yet. We are going to have 
 some supper, a'n't we, George ?" 
 
 " I think it's quite time to go home," said Mr. Fitz- 
 Boodle (who, to say the truth, began to tremble him- 
 self). 
 
 " I think it is, sir ; you are quite right, sir ; you 
 will pardon me, gentlemen, I have a bad headache, and 
 will retire." 
 
 " Good night, my dear !" said that audacious Berry. 
 " Anatole, tell the cook to broil a fowl, and bring some 
 wine." 
 
 If the loving couple had been alone, or if Cutler had 
 not been an attache to the embassy, before whom,, she 
 was afraid of making herself ridiculous, I am confident 
 that Mrs. Berry would have fainted away on the spot ; 
 and that all Berry's courage would have tumbled down 
 lifeless by the side of her. So she only gave a martyr- 
 
MR. AND AIRS. FRANK BERRY. 41 
 
 ized look, and left the room ; and while we partook of 
 the very unnecessary repast, was good enough to sing 
 some hymn tunes to an exceedingly slow movement in 
 the next room, intimating that she was awake, and 
 that, though suffering, she found her consolations in re- 
 ligion. 
 
 These melodies did not in the least add to our 
 friend's courage. The devoted fowl had, somehow, no 
 devil in it. The champagne in the glasses looked 
 exceedingly flat and blue. The fact is, that Cutler and 
 I were now both in a state of dire consternation, and 
 soon made a move for our hats, and lighting each a 
 cigar in the hall, made across the little green where the 
 Cupids and nymphs were listening to the dribbling 
 fountain in the dark. 
 
 " I'm hanged if I don't have a cigar too !" says 
 Berry, rushing after us ; and accordingly putting in his 
 pocket a key about the size of a shovel, winch hung by 
 the little handle of the outer grille, forth he sallied, and 
 joined us in our fumigation. 
 
 He stayed with us a couple of hours, and returned 
 homewards in perfect good spirits, having given me his 
 word of honour he would dine with us the next day. 
 He put in his immense key into the grille, and unlocked 
 it ; but the gate would not open : it was bolted within. 
 
 He began to make a furious jangling and ringing at 
 the bell ; and in oaths, both French and English, called 
 upon the recalcitrant Anatole. 
 
 * After much tolling of the bell, a light came cutting 
 across the crevices of the inner door; it was thrown 
 open, and a figure appeared with a lamp, — a tall, slim 
 figure of a woman, clothed in white from head to 
 foot. 
 
42 men's wives. 
 
 It was Mrs. Berry, and when Cutler and I saw her, 
 we both ran as fast as our legs could carry us. 
 
 Berry, at this, shrieked with a wild laughter. 
 " Eemember to-morrow T , old boys," shouted he, — six 
 o'clock ;" and we were a quarter of a mile off when the 
 gate closed, and the little mansion of the Avenue de 
 Paris was once more quiet and dark. 
 
 The next afternoon, as we were playing at billiards, 
 Cutler saw Mrs. Berry drive by in her carriage ; and as 
 soon as rather a long rubber was over, I thought I 
 would go and look for our poor friend, and so went 
 down to the Pavilion. Every door was open, as the 
 wont is in France, and I walked in unannounced, and 
 saw this. 
 
 He was playing a duet with her on the flute. She 
 had been out but for half an hour, after not speaking 
 all the morning ; and having seen Cutler at the billiard- 
 room window, and suspecting we might take advantage 
 of her absence, she had suddenly returned home again, 
 and had flung herself, weeping, into her Frank's arms, 
 and said she could not bear to leave him in anger. 
 And so, after sitting for a little while sobbing on his 
 knee, she had forgotten and forgiven every thing ! 
 
 The dear angel ! I met poor Frank in Bond Street 
 only yesterday ; but he crossed over to the other side 
 of the way. He had on galoshes, and is grown very 
 fat and pale. He has shaved off his moustachios, and, 
 instead, wears a respirator. He has taken his name off 
 all his clubs, and lives very grimly in Baker Street. 
 Well, ladies, no doubt you say he is right ; and what 
 are the odds, so long as you are happy ? 
 
 G. F. B. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHICH IS ENTIRELY INTRODUCTORY CONTAINS AN 
 
 ACCOUNT OF MISS CRUMP, HER SUITORS, AND HER 
 FAMILY CIRCLE. 
 
 In a certain quiet and sequestered nook of the retired 
 village of London — perhaps in the neighborhood of 
 Berkeley Square, or at any rate somewhere near Burling- 
 ton Gardens — there was once a house of entertainment 
 called the Bootjack Hotel. Mr. Crump, the landlord, 
 had, in the outset of life, performed the duties of boots 
 in some inn even more frequented than his own, and, 
 far from being ashamed of his origin, like many persons 
 are in the clays of their prosperity, had thus solemnly 
 recorded it over the hospitable gate of his hotel. 
 
 Crump married Miss Budge, so well known to the 
 admirers of the festive dance on the other side of the 
 water as Miss Delancy ; and they had one daughter, 
 named Morgiana after that celebrated part in the Forty 
 Thieves which Miss Budge performed with unbounded 
 applause both at the Surrey and the Wells. Mrs. Crump 
 sat in a little bar, profusely ornamented with pictures of 
 the dancers of all ages, from Hillisberg, Rose, Parisot, 
 who employed the light fantastic toe in 1805, down to 
 the Sylphides of our own day. There was in the 
 
44 MEN'S WIVES. 
 
 collection a charming portrait of herself, clone by I \* 
 Wilde ; she was in the dress of Morgiana, and in tlu* 
 act of pouring, to very slow music, a quantity of boiling- 
 oil into one of the forty jars. In this sanctuary she sat, 
 with black eyes, black hair, a purple face and a turban, 
 and, morning, noon, or night, as you went into the 
 parlour of the hotel, there was Mrs. Crump taking tea 
 (with a little something in it), looking at the fashions, 
 or reading Cumberland's British Theatre. The Sunday 
 Times was her paper, for she voted the Dispatch, that 
 journal which is taken in by most ladies of her profes- 
 sion, to be vulgar and Kadical, and loved the theatricai 
 gossip in which the other mentioned journal abounds. 
 
 The fact is, that the Royal Bootjack, though a hum- 
 ble, was a very genteel house ; and a very little persua- 
 sion would induce Mr. Crump, as he looked at his own 
 door in the sun, to tell you that he had himself once 
 drawn off with that very bootjack the top-boots of His 
 Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and the first 
 'gentleman in Europe. While, then, the houses of 
 entertainment in the neighbourhood were loud in their 
 pretended liberal politics, the Bootjack stuck to the 
 good old Conservative line, and was .only frequented by 
 such persons as were of that way of thinking. There 
 were two parlours, much accustomed, one for the gentle- 
 men of the shoulder-knot, who came from the houses of 
 their employers hard by ; another for some "gents who 
 used the 'ouse," as Mrs. Crump would say (Heaven 
 bless her !) in - her simple Cockniac dialect, and who 
 formed a little club there. 
 
 I forgot to say that while Mrs. C. was sipping her 
 eternal tea or washing up her endless blue china, you 
 
THB HAVENSWING. 45 
 
 might often hear Miss Morgiana, employed at the little 
 red silk cottage piano, singing, " Come where the 
 haspens quiver," or " Bonny lad march over hill and 
 furrow," or " My art and lute," or any other popular 
 piece of the day. And the dear girl sung with very 
 considerable skill too, for she had a fine loud voice, 
 which, if .not always in tune, made up for that defect 
 by its great energy and activity ; and Morgiana was 
 not content with singing the mere tune, but gave every 
 one of the roulades, flourishes, and ornaments as she 
 heard them at the theatres by Mrs. Humby, Mrs. Way- 
 lett, or Madame Vestris. The girl had a fine black eye 
 like her mamma, a grand enthusiasm for the stage, as 
 every actor's child will have, and, if the truth must be 
 known, had appeared many and many a time at the 
 theatre in Catherine Street, in minor parts first, and 
 then in Little Pickle, in Desdemona, in Rosina, and in 
 Miss Foote's part where she used to dance ; I have not 
 the name to my hand, but think it is Davidson. Four 
 times in the week, at least, her mother and she used to 
 sail off at night to some place of public amusement, for 
 Mrs. Crump had a mysterious acquaintance with all 
 sorts of theatrical personages ; and the gates of her old 
 1 1 aunt, "the Wells," of the Cobourg (by the kind 
 permission of Mrs. Davidge), nay, of the Lane and the 
 Market themselves, flew open before her " Open sesa- 
 me," as the robbery' door did to her colleague, Ali Baba 
 (Hornbuckle), in the operatic piece in which she was so 
 famous. 
 
 Beer was Mr. Crump's beverage, variegated by a 
 little gin, in the evenings ; and little need be said oi 
 this gentleman except that he discharged his duties 
 
46 
 
 MEN S WIVES. 
 
 honourably, and filled the president's chair at the club 
 as completely as it could possibly be filled ; for he could 
 not even sit in it in his great-coat, so accurately was 
 the seat adapted to him. His wife and daughter, per- 
 haps, thought somewhat slightingly of him, for he had 
 no literary tastes, and had never been at a theatre since 
 he took his bride from one. Pie was valet to Lord 
 Slapper at the time, and certain it is that his lordship 
 set him up in the Bootjack, and that stories had been 
 told. But what are such to you or me ? Let bygones 
 be bygones, Mrs. Crump was quite as honest as her 
 neighbours, and Miss had 500Z. to be paid down on the 
 day of her wedding. 
 
 Those who know the habits of the British trades- 
 man are aware that he has gregarious propensities like 
 any lord in the land ; that he loves a joke, that he is 
 not averse to a glass ; that after the day's toil he is 
 happy to consort with men of his degree ; and that as 
 t society is not so far advanced among us as to allow him 
 to enjoy the comforts of splendid club-houses, which are 
 open to many persons with not a tenth part of his pecu- 
 niary means, he meets his friends in the cosy tavern 
 parlour, where a neat sanded floor, a large Windsor 
 chair, and a glass of hot something and water, make 
 him as happy as any of the clubmen in their magnifi- 
 cent saloons. 
 
 At the Bootjack was, as we have said, a very get - 
 teel and select society, called the Kidney Club, from 
 the fact that on Saturday evenings a little graceful 
 supper of broiled kidneys was usually discussed by the 
 members of the club. Saturday was their grand night ; 
 not but that they met on all other nights in the week 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 47 
 
 when inclined for festivity ; and indeed some of them 
 could not come on Saturdays in the summer, having 
 elegant villas in the suburbs, where they passed the 
 six-and-thirty hours of recreation that are happily to be 
 found at the end of every week. 
 
 There was Mr. Balls, the great grocer of South 
 Audley Street, a warm man, who, they say, had his 
 20,000/.; Jack Snaffle, of the mews hard by, a capital 
 fellow for a song ; Clinker, the ironmonger, all married 
 gentlemen and in the best line of business ; Trestle, the 
 undertaker, &c. No liveries were admitted into the 
 room, as may be imagined, but one or two select but- 
 lers and majordomos formed the circle, for the persons 
 composing it knew very well how important it was to 
 be on good terms with these gentlemen ; and many a 
 time my lord's account would never have been paid, 
 and my lady's large order never have been given, but 
 for the conversation which took place at the Bootjack, 
 and the friendly intercourse subsisting between all the 
 members of the society. 
 
 The tiptop men of the society were two bachelors, 
 and two as fashionable tradesmen as any in the town. 
 Mr. Woolsey, from Stultz's, of the famous houses of 
 Linsey, Woolsey, and Co., of Conduit Street, tailors ; 
 and Mr. Eglantine, the celebrated perruquier and per- 
 fumer of Bond Street, whose soaps, razors, and patent 
 ventilating scalps, are known throughout Europe. Lin- 
 sey, the senior partner of the tailors' firm, had his mag- 
 nificent mansion in Regent's Park, drove his buggy, 
 and did little more than lend his name to the house. 
 Woolsey lived in.it, was the working man of the firm, 
 and it was said that his cut was as magnificent as that 
 
48 men's wives. 
 
 of any man in the profession. Woolsey and Eglantine 
 were rivals in many ways, — rivals in fashion, rivals in 
 wit, and, above all, rivals for the hand of an amiable 
 young lady w T hom we have already mentioned, the 
 dark-eyed songstress Morgiana Crump. They were 
 both desperately in love with her, that was the truth ; 
 and each, in the absence of the other, abused his rival 
 heartily. Of the hair-dresser, Woolsey said, that as for 
 Eglantine being his real name, it was all his (Mr. 
 Woolsey's) eye ; that he was in the hands of the Jews, 
 and his stock and grand shop eaten up by usury. And 
 with regard to Woolsey, Eglantine remarked, that his 
 pretence of being descended from the cardinal was all 
 nonsense ; that he was a partner, certainly, in the firm, 
 but had only a sixteenth share ; and that the firm could 
 never get their moneys in, and had an immense number 
 of bad debts in their books. As is usual, there was a 
 great deal of truth and a great deal of malice in these 
 tales ; however, the gentlemen were, take them all in 
 all, in a very fashionable way of business, and had their 
 claims to Miss Morgiana's hand backed by the parents. 
 Mr. Crump was a partisan of the tailor ; while Mrs. C. 
 was a strong advocate for the claims of the enticing 
 perfumer. 
 
 Now, it was a curious fact, that these two gentlemen 
 were each in need of the other's services, — Woolsey 
 being afflicted with premature baldness, or some other 
 necessity for a wig still more fatal, — Eglantine being a 
 very fat man, who required much art to make his figure 
 at all decent. He wore a brown frock coat and frogs, 
 and attempted by all sort of contrivances to hide his 
 obesity ; but Woolsey's remark, that, dress as he would, 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 49 
 
 he would always look like a snob, and that there was 
 only one man in England who could make a gen- 
 tleman of him, went to the perfumer's soul ; and if there 
 was one thing on earth he longed for (not including the 
 hand of Miss Crump), it was to have a coat from 
 Linsey's, in which costume he was sure that Morgiana 
 would not resist him. 
 
 If Eglantine was uneasy about the coat, on the other 
 hand he attacked Woolsey atrociously on the score of 
 his wig ; for though the latter went to the best makers, 
 he never could get a peruke to sit naturally upon him ; 
 and the unhappy epithet of Mr. Wiggins, applied to 
 him on one occasion by the barber, stuck to him ever 
 after in the club, and made him writhe when it was 
 uttered. Each man would have quitted the Kidneys in 
 disgust long since, but for the other, — for each had an 
 attraction in the place, and dared not leave the field in 
 possession of his rival. 
 
 To do Miss Morgiana justice, it must be said, that 
 she did not encourage one more than another ; but as 
 far as accepting eau de Cologne and hair-combs from 
 the perfumer, — some opera tickets, a treat to Greenwich, 
 and a piece of real Genoa velvet for a bonnet (it had 
 originally been intended for a waistcoat), from the ad- 
 miring tailor, she had been equally kind to each, and in 
 return had made each a present of a lock of her beau- 
 tiful glossy hair. It was all she had to give, poor girl ! 
 and what could she do but gratify her admirers by this 
 cheap and artless testimony of her regard ? A pretty 
 scene and quarrel took place between the rivals on the 
 day when they discovered that each was in possession 
 of one of Morgiana's ringlets ! 
 3 
 
50 men's wives. 
 
 Such, then, were the owners and inmates of the 
 little Bootjack, from whom and which, as this chapter 
 is exceedingly discursive and descriptive, we must sep- 
 arate the reader for a while, and cany him — it is only 
 into Bond Street, so no gentleman need be afraid — 
 carry him into Bond Street, where some other person- 
 ages are awaiting his consideration. 
 
 'Not far from Mr. Eglantine's shop in Bond Street 
 stand, as is very well known, the Windsor chambers. 
 The West Diddlesex Association (western branch), the 
 British and Foreign Soap Company, the celebrated at- 
 torneys Kite and Levison, have their respective offices 
 here ; and as the names of the other inhabitants of the 
 chambers are not only painted on the walls, but also 
 registered in Mrs. Boyle's Court Guide, it is quite un- 
 necessary that they should be repeated here. Among 
 them, on the entresol (between the spendid saloons of 
 the Soap Company on the first floor, with their statue 
 of Britannia presenting a packet of the soap to Europe, 
 Asia, Africa, and America, and the West Diddlesex 
 western branch on the basement) — on the entresol — 
 lives a gentleman by the name of Mr. Howard Walker. 
 The brass plate on the door of that gentleman's cham- 
 bers had the word "Agency" inscribed beneath his 
 name ; and we are therefore at liberty to imagine that 
 he followed that mysterious occupation. In person Mr. 
 Walker was very genteel ; he had large whiskers, dark 
 eyes {with a slight cast in them), a cane, and a velvet 
 waistcoat. He was a member of a club ; had an ad- 
 mission to the opera, and knew every face behind the 
 scenes ; and was in the habit of using a number of 
 French phrases in his conversation, having picked up 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 51 
 
 a smattering of that language during a residence " on 
 the Continent :" in fact, he had found it very conve- 
 nient at various times of his life to dwell in the city of 
 Boulogne, where he acquired a knowledge of smoking, 
 ecartg, and billiards, which were afterwards of great 
 service to him. He knew all the best tables in town, 
 and the marker at Hunt's could only give him ten. He 
 had some fashionable acquaintances too, and you might 
 see him walking arm-in-arm with such gentlemen as my 
 Lord Vauxhall, the Marquess of Billingsgate, or Captain 
 Buff; and at the same time nodding to young Moses, 
 the dandy bailiff; or Loder, the gambling-house keeper ; 
 or Aminadab, the Cigar- seller in the Quadrant. Some- 
 times he wore a pair of moustachios, and was called 
 Captain Walker, grounding his claim to that title upon 
 the fact of having once held a commission in the service 
 of her majesty the Queen of Portugal. It scarcely need 
 be said that he had been through the Insolvent Court 
 many times. But to those who did not know his history 
 intimately there was some difficulty in identifying him 
 with the individual who had so taken the benefit of, the 
 law, inasmuch as in his schedule his name appeared as 
 Hooker Walker, wine-merchant, commission-agent, mu- 
 sic-seller, or what not. The fact is, that though he 
 preferred to call himself Howard, Hooker was his Chris- 
 tian name, and it had been bestowed on him by his 
 worthy old father, who was a clergyman, and had in- 
 tended his son for that profession. But as the old gen- 
 tleman died in York gaol, where he was a prisoner for 
 debt, he was never able to put his pious intentions with 
 regard to his son into execution ; and the young fellow 
 (as he was wont with many oaths to assert) was thrown 
 
52 
 
 on his own resources, and became a man of the world, 
 at a very early age. 
 
 What Mr. Howard Walker's age was at the time of 
 the commencement of this history, and, indeed, for an 
 indefinite period before or afterwards, it is impossible to 
 determine. If he were eight-and-twenty, as he asserted 
 himself, Time had dealt hardly with him ; his hair was 
 thin, there were many crows' feet about his eyes, and 
 other signs in his countenance of the progress of decay. 
 If, on the contrary, he were forty, as Sam Snaffle assert- 
 ed, who himself had misfortunes in early life, and 
 vowed he knew Mr. Walker in Whitecross Street prison 
 in 1820, he was a very young-looking person consider- 
 ing his age. His figure was active and slim, his leg 
 neat, and he had not in his whiskers a single white 
 hair. 
 
 It must, however, be owned that he used Mr. Eglan- 
 tine's Eegenerative Unction (which will make your 
 whiskers as blaek as your boot), and, in fact, he was a 
 pretty constant visitor at that gentleman's emporium ; 
 dealing with him largely for soaps and articles of per- 
 fumery, which he had at an exceedingly low rate. In- 
 deed, he was never known to pay Mr. Eglantine one 
 single shilling for those objects of luxury, and, having 
 them on such moderate terms, was enabled to indulge 
 in them pretty copiously. Thus Mr. Walker was al- 
 most as great a nosegay as Mr. Eglantine himself. His 
 handkerchief was scented with verbena, his hair with 
 jessamine, and his coat had usually a fine perfume of 
 cigars, which rendered his presence in a small room 
 almost instantaneously remarkable. I have described 
 Mr. Walker thus accurately, because, in truth, it is more 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 53 
 
 with characters than with astounding events, that this 
 little history deals, and Mr. Walker is one of the prin- 
 cipal of our dramatis persona?. 
 
 And so, having introduced Mr. W., we will walk 
 over wi^h hirn to Mr. Eglantine's emporium, where that 
 gentleman is in waiting, too, to have his likeness taken. 
 
 There is about an acre of plate glass under the 
 royal arms on Mr, Eglantine's shop window ; and at 
 night, when the gas is lighted, and the washballs are illu- 
 minated, and the lambent flame plays fitfully over num- 
 berless bottles of vari-coloured perfumes — now flashes 
 on a case of razors, and now lightens up a crystal vase, 
 containing a hundred thousand of his patent tooth- 
 brushes — the effect of the sight may be imagined. You 
 don't suppose that he is a creature who has those 
 odious, simpering wax figures in his window, that are 
 called by the vulgar dummies? He is above such a 
 wretched artifice ; and it is my belief that he would as 
 soon have his own head chopped off, and placed as a 
 trunkless decoration to his shop-window, as allow a 
 dummy to figure there. On one pane you read in ele- 
 gant gold letters "Eglantinia" — 'tis his essence for the 
 handkerchief; on the other is written "Regenerative 
 Unction " — 'tis his invaluable pomatum for the hair. 
 
 There is no doubt about it: Eglantine's knowledge 
 of his profession amounts to genius. He sells a cake of 
 soap for seven shillings, for which another man would 
 not get a shilling, and his toothbrushes go off like wild- 
 fire at half-a-guinea a-piece. If he has to administer 
 rouge or pearl-powder to ladies, he does it with a mys- 
 tery and fascination which there is no resisting, and the 
 ladies believe there are no cosmetics like his. He gives 
 
54 men's wives. 
 
 his wares unlieard-of names, and obtains for them sums 
 equally prodigious. He can dress hair — that is a fact 
 — as few men in this age can ; and has been known to 
 take twenty pounds in a single night from as many of 
 the first ladies of England when ringlets were in«fashion. 
 The introduction of bands, he says, made a difference of 
 2000?. a-year in his income ; and if there is one thing 
 in the world he hates and despises, it is a Madonna 
 " I'm not," says he, u a tradesman — I'm a hartist (Mr. 
 Eglantine was born in London). I'm a hartist ; and 
 show me a fine 'ead of air, and I'll dress it fo* 
 nothink." He vows that it was his way of dressing 
 Mademoiselle Sontag's hair, that caused the count her 
 husband to fall in love with her ; and he has a lock of it 
 in a brooch, and says it was the finest head he ever saw, 
 except one, and that one was Morgiana Crump's. 
 
 With his genius and his position in the profession, 
 how comes it, then, that Mr. Eglantine was not a man of 
 fortune, as many a less clever has been ? If the truth 
 must be told, he loved pleasure, and was in the hands 
 of the Jews. He had been in business twenty years : 
 he had borrowed a thousand pounds to purchase his 
 stock and shop ; and he calculated that he had paid 
 upwards of twenty thousand pounds for the use of the 
 one thousand, which was still as much due as on the 
 first day when he entered business. He could show 
 that he had received a thousand dozen of champagne 
 from the disinterested money-dealers with whom he 
 usually negotiated his paper. He had pictures all over 
 his " studios," which had been purchased in the same 
 bargains. If he sold his goods at an enormous price, 
 he paid for them at a rate almost equally exorbitant. 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 55 
 
 There was not an article in his shop but came to him 
 through his Israelite providers ; and in the very front 
 shop itself sat a gentleman who was the nominee of one 
 of them, and who was called Mr. Mossrose. He was 
 there to superintend the cash account, and to see that 
 certain instalments were paid to his principals, accord- 
 ing to certain agreements entered into between Mr. 
 Eglantine and them. 
 
 Having that sort of opinion of Mr. Mossrose which 
 Damocles may have had of the sword which hung over 
 his head, of course Mr. Eglantine hated 4iis foreman 
 profoundly. " He an artist," would the former gen- 
 tleman exclaim, "why he's only a disguised bailiff! 
 Mossrose, indeed ! the chap's name 's Amos, and he 
 sold oranges before he came here." Mr. Mossrose, on 
 his side, utterly despised Mr. Eglantine, and looked for- 
 ward to the day when he would become the proprietor 
 of the shop, and take Eglantine for a foreman, and then 
 it would be his turn to sneer and bully, and ride the 
 high horse. 
 
 Thus it will be seen that there was a skeleton in the 
 great perfumer's house, as the saying is, a worm in his 
 heart's core, and though, to all appearance prosperous, 
 that his position was really an awkward one. 
 
 What Mr. Eglantine's relations were with Mr. 
 Walker may be imagined from the following dialogue, 
 which took place between the two gentlemen at five 
 o'clock one summer's afternoon, when Mr. Walker, 
 issuing from his chambers, came across to the perfumer's 
 shop : 
 
 " Is Eglantine at home, Mr. Mossrose ?" said Walker 
 to the foreman, who sat in the front shop. 
 
56 men's wives. 
 
 " Don't know — go and look " (meaning go and be 
 hanged) ; for Mossrose also hated Mr. Walker. 
 
 " If you're uncivil I'll break your bones, Mr. Amos" 
 says Mr. Walker, sternly. 
 
 " I should like to see you try, Mr. Hooker Walker," 
 replies the undaunted shopman, on which the captain, 
 looking several tremendous caniugs at him, walked into 
 the back room or " studio." 
 
 " How are you, Tiny, my buck ?" says the captain. 
 "Much doing?" 
 
 " Not a soul in town. I 'aven't touched the hirons 
 all day," replied Mr. Eglantine, in rather a desponding 
 way. 
 
 " Well, just get them ready now, and give my whis- 
 kers a turn. I'm going to dine with Billingsgate 
 and some out-and-out fellows at the Regent, and so, my 
 lad, just do your best." 
 
 "I can't," says Mr. Eglantine. "I expect ladies, 
 captain, every minute." 
 
 " Very good ; I don't want to trouble such a great 
 man, I'm sure. Good-by, and let me hear from you 
 this day week, Mr. Eglantine." "This day week" 
 meant that at seven days from that time a certain bill 
 endorsed by Mr. Eglantine would be due, and presented 
 for payment. 
 
 "Don't be in such a hurry, Captain — do sit down. 
 I'll curl you in one minute. And, I say, won't the 
 party renew ?" 
 
 " Impossible — it's the third renewal." 
 
 " But I'll make the thing handsome to you ; — in- 
 deed I will." 
 
 " How much ?" 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 57 
 
 " Will ten pounds do the business ?" 
 
 " What ! offer my principal ten pounds ? Are you 
 mad, Eglantine ? — A little more of the iron to the left 
 whisker." 
 
 " No, I meant for commission." 
 
 "Well, I'll see if that will do. The party I deal 
 with, Eglantine, has power, I know, and can defer the 
 matter, no doubt. As for me, you know, I've nothing 
 to do in the affair, and only act as a friend between 
 you and him. I give you my honour and soul, I do." 
 
 u I know you do, my dear sir." The two last 
 speeches were lies. The perfumer knew perfectly well 
 that Mr. Walker would pocket the 10Z. ; but he was 
 too easy to care for paying it, and too timid to quarrel 
 with such a powerful friend. And he had on three 
 different occasions already payed 101. fine for the re- 
 newal of the bill in question, all of which bonuses he 
 knew went to his friend Mr. Walker. 
 
 Here, too, the reader will perceive what was, in part, 
 the meaning of the word "agency" on Mr. Walker's 
 door. He was a go-between between money-lenders 
 and borrowers in this world, and certain small sums 
 always remained with him in the course of the transac- 
 tion. He was an agent for wine, too ; an agent for 
 places to be had through the influence of great men ; 
 he was an agent for half-a-dozen theatrical people, male 
 and female, and had the interests of the latter, especially, 
 it was said, at heart. Such were a few of the means 
 by which this worthy gentleman contrived to support 
 himself, and if, as he was fond of high living, gambling, 
 and pleasures of all kinds, his revenue was not large 
 enough for his expenditure — why, he got into debt, and 
 
58 men's wives. 
 
 settled his bills that way. He w r as as much at home in 
 the Fleet as in Pall Mall, and quite as happy in the 
 one place as in the other. " That's the w r ay I take 
 things," would this philosopher say. " If I've money, 
 I spend ; if I've credit, I borrow ; if I'm dunned, I white- 
 wash ; and so you can't beat me down." Happy elas- 
 ticity of temperament ! I do believe that in spite of his 
 misfortunes and precarious position, there was no man 
 in England whose conscience was more calm, and whose 
 slumbers were more tranquil, than those of Captain 
 Howard Walker. 
 
 As he was sitting under the hands of Mr. Eglantine, 
 he reverted to " the ladies," whom the latter gentleman 
 professed to expect ; said he was a sly dog, a lucky 
 ditto, and asked him if the ladies were handsome. 
 
 Eglantine thought there could be no harm in tell- 
 ing a bouncer to a gentleman with whom he was en- 
 gaged in money transactions ; and so, to give the cap- 
 tain an idea of his solvency and the brilliancy of his fu- 
 ture prospects, " Captain," said he, " I've got hundred 
 and eighty pounds out with you, which you were oblig- 
 ing enough to negotiate for me. Have I, or have I 
 not, two bills out to that amount ?" 
 
 " Well, my good fellow, you certainly have ; and 
 what then ?" 
 
 " What then ? Why I bet you five pounds to one 
 that in three months those bills are paid." 
 
 " Done ; five pounds to one. I take it." 
 
 This sudden closing with him made the perfumer 
 rather uneasy, but he was not to pay for three months, 
 and so he said "done" too, and went on, "What would 
 you say if your bills were paid ?" 
 
T11E K AVE N SWING. 59 
 
 " Not mine ; Pike's." 
 
 " Well, if Pike's were paid, and the Minories' man 
 paid, and every single liability I have cleared off ; and 
 that Mossrose flung out of winder, and me and my em- 
 porium as free as air ?" 
 
 " You don't say so ? Is Queen Anne dead ? and 
 has she left you a fortune ? or what's the luck in the 
 wind now i" 
 
 " It's better than Queen Anne, or any body dying. 
 What should you say to seeing in that very place where 
 Mossrose now sits (hang him !) — in seeing the finest 
 head of ''air now in Europe ? A woman I tell you — a 
 slap-up lovely woman, who, I'm proud to say, will soon 
 be called Mrs. Heglantine, and will bring me five thou- 
 sand pounds to her fortune." 
 
 "Well, Tiny, this is good luck, indeed. I say, 
 you'll be able to do a bill or two for me then, hay ? 
 You won't forget an old friend 2" 
 
 " That I won't. I shall have a place at my board 
 for you, capting ; and many's the time I shall 'ope to 
 see you under that ma'ogany." 
 
 " What will the French milliner say ? She'll hang 
 herself for despair, Eglantine." 
 
 " Hush ! not a word about J er. I've sown all my 
 wild oats, I tell you. Eglantine is no longer the gay 
 young bachelor, but the sober married man. I want a 
 heart to share the feelings of mine. I want repose. 
 I'm not so young as I was, I feel it." 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! you are — you are " 
 
 " Well, but I sigh for an 'appy fireside ; and I'll 
 have it." 
 
 " And give up that club which you belong to, hay !" 
 
60 men's wives. 
 
 " The Kidneys ? Oh ! of course, no married man 
 should belong to such places, at least, /'ll not ; and I'll 
 have my kidneys broiled at home. But be quiet, cap- 
 tain ; if you please the ladies appointed to " 
 
 " And is it the lady you expect ? eh, you rogue !" 
 " Well, get along. It's her and her ma." 
 But Mr. Walker determined he wouldn't get along, 
 and would see these lovely ladies before he stirred. 
 
 The operation on Mr. Walker's whiskers being 
 concluded, he was arranging his toilet before the glass 
 in an agreeable attitude, his neck out ; his enormous 
 pin settled in his stock to his satisfaction, his eyes com- 
 placently directed towards the reflection of his left and 
 favourite whisker, and Eglantine was laid on a litter in 
 an easy, though melancholy posture. He was twid- 
 dling the tongs with which he had just operated on 
 Walker with one hand, and his right-hand ringlet with 
 the other, and he was thinking — thinking of Morgiana ; 
 and then of the bill which was to become due on the 
 16th ; and then of a light blue velvet waistcoat with 
 gold sprigs, in which he looked very killing, and so 
 was trudging round in his little circle of loves, fears, 
 and vanities. " Hang it !" Mr. Walker was thinking, 
 "lama handsome man. A pair of whiskers like mine 
 are not met with every day. If any body can see that 
 
 my tuft is dyed, may I be " When the door was 
 
 flung open, and a large lady with a curl on her fore- 
 head, yellow shawl, a green velvet bonnet with feathers, 
 half-boots, and a drab gown with tulips and other large 
 exotics painted on it — when, in a word, Mrs. Crump 
 and her daughter bounced into the room. 
 
 " Here we are, Mr. E.," cries Mrs. Crump, in a gay, 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 61 
 
 foldtre, confidential air. " But, law ! there's a gent in 
 the room I" 
 
 " Don't mind me, ladies," said the gent alluded to, 
 with his fascinating way. " I'm a friend of Eglantine's ; 
 an't I, Egg ? a chip of the old block, hay ?" 
 
 u That you are," said the perfumer, starting up. 
 
 " An 'air-dresser ?" asked Mrs. Crump. " Well, I 
 thought he was ; there's something, Mr. E., in gentle- 
 men of your profession so exceeding, so uncommon dis- 
 tangy" 
 
 " Madam, you do me proud," replied the gentleman 
 so complimented, with great presence of mind. " Will 
 you allow me to try my skill upon you, or upon miss, 
 your lovely daughter ? I'm not so clever as Eglantine, 
 but no bad hand, I assure you." 
 
 " Nonsense, captain," interrupted the perfumer, who 
 was uncomfortable somehow at the rencontre between 
 the captain and the object of his affection. "He's not 
 in the profession, «Mrs. C. This is my friend Captain 
 Walker, and proud I am to call him my friend." And 
 then aside to Mrs. C, " One of the first swells on town, 
 ma'am — a regular tip-topper." 
 
 Humouring the mistake which Mrs. Crump had just 
 made, Mr. Walker thrust the curling-irons into the fire 
 in a minute, and looked round at the ladies with such 
 a fascinating grace, that both, now made acquainted 
 with his quality, blushed, and giggled, and were quite 
 pleased. Mamma looked at 'Gina, and 'Gina looked 
 at mamma ; and then mamma gave 'Gina a little blow 
 in the region of her little waist, and then both burst 
 out laughing, as ladies will laugh, and as, let us trust, 
 they may laugh for ever and ever. Why need there 
 
62 men's wives. 
 
 be a reason for laughing ? Let us laugh, when we are 
 laughy, as we sleep when we are sleepy. And so Mrs. 
 Crump and her demoiselle laughed to their heart's con- 
 tent, and both fixed their large shining black eyes re- 
 peatedly on Mr. Walker. 
 
 " I won't leave the room," said he, coming forward 
 with the heated iron in his hand, and smoothing it on 
 the brown paper with all the dexterity of a professor 
 (for the fact is Mr. W. every morning curled his own 
 immense whiskers with the greatest skill and care) — " I 
 won't leave the room, Eglantine, my boy. My lady 
 here took me for a hairdresser, and so, you know, I've 
 a right to stay." 
 
 " He can't stay," said Mrs. Crump, all of a sudden, 
 blushing as red as a peony. 
 
 " I shall have on my peignoir, mamma," said miss, 
 looking at the gentleman, and then dropping down her 
 eyes and blushing too. 
 
 " But he can't stay, 'Gina, I tell ^ou ; do you think 
 that I would, before a gentleman, take off my " 
 
 " Mamma means her front !" said miss, jumping 
 up, and beginning to laugh with all her might; at 
 which the honest landlady of the Bootjack, who loved 
 a joke, although at her own expense, laughed too, and 
 said that no one, except Mr. Crump and Mr. Eglantine, 
 had ever seen her without the ornament in question. 
 
 " Do go now, you provoking thing, you !" continued 
 Miss C. to Mr. "Walker ; " I wish to hear the hoverture, 
 and it's six o'clock now, and we shall never be done 
 against then :" but the way in which Morgiana said 
 " do go," clearly indicated " don't," to the perspicuous 
 mind of Mr. Walker. 
 
THE HAVEN SWING. 63 
 
 " Perhaps you 'ad better go," continued Mr. Eglan- 
 tine, joining in this sentiment, and being, in truth, some- 
 what uneasy at the admiration which his "swell friend " 
 excited. 
 
 " I'll see you hanged first, Eggy, my boy ! Go I 
 won't, until these ladies have had their hair dressed : 
 didn't you yourself tell me that Miss Crump's was the 
 most beautiful hair in Europe ? And do you think 
 that I'll go away without seeing it ? No, here I stay." 
 
 " You naughty, wicked, odious, provoking man !" 
 said Miss Crump. But, at the same time, she took off 
 her bonnet, and placed it on one of the side candlesticks 
 of Mr. Eglantine's glass (it was a black velvet bonnet, 
 trimmed with sham lace, and with a wreath of nastur- 
 tiums, convolvuluses, and wallflowers within) ; and then 
 said, " Give me the peignoir, Mr. Archibald, if you 
 please ;" and Eglantine, who w T ould do any thing for 
 her when she called him Archibald, immediately pro- 
 duced that garment, and wrapped round the delicate 
 shoulders of the lady, who removing a sham gold chain 
 which she wore on her forehead, two brass hair-combs 
 set with glass rubies, and the comb which kept her 
 back hair together, removing them, I say, and turning 
 her great eyes towards the stranger, and giving her 
 head a shake, down let tumble such a flood of shining, 
 waving, heavy, glossy, jetty hair, as would have done 
 Mr. Rowland's heart good to see. It tumbled down 
 Miss Morgiana's back, and it tumbled over her shoul- 
 ders, it tumbled over the chair on which she sat, and 
 from the midst of it her jolly, bright-eyed, rosy face 
 beamed out with a triumphant smile, which said, " A 1 nt 
 I now the most angelic being you ever saw ?" 
 
64 men's wives. 
 
 " By Heavens ! it's the most beautiful thing I ever 
 saw !" cried Mr. Walker, with undisguised admiration. 
 
 " Isn't it V' said Mrs. Crump, who made her daugh- 
 ter's triumph her own. " Heigho ! when I acted at the 
 Wells in 1820, before that dear girl was born, 7" had 
 such a head of hair as that, to a shade, sir, to a shade. 
 They called me Ravens wing on account of it. I lost 
 my head of hair when that dear child was born, and I 
 often say to her c Morgiana, you came into the world to 
 rob your mother of her 'air.' Were you ever at the 
 Wells, sir, in 1820 ? Perhaps you recollect Miss De- 
 lancy ? I am that Miss Delancy. Perhaps you re- 
 collect, — 
 
 " ' Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink : 
 By the light of the star, 
 On the blue river's brink, 
 I heard a guitar. 
 
 I heard a guitar 
 
 On the blue waters clear, 
 And knew by its mu-u-sic, 
 
 That Selim was near !' 
 
 You remember that in the Bagdad Bells? Fatima, 
 Delancy ; Selim, Benlomond (his real name was Bun- 
 nion) ; and he failed, poor fellow, in the public line 
 afterwards. It was done to the tambourine, and dancing 
 between each verse, — 
 
 " * Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, 
 
 How the soft music swells, 
 And I hear the soft clink 
 
 Of the minaret bells ! 
 Tink-a ' " 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 65 
 
 " Oh !" here cried Miss Crump, as if in exceeding 
 pain (and whether Mr. Eglantine had twitched, pulled, 
 or hurt any one individual hair of that lovely head I 
 don't know), — " Oh, you are killing me, Mr. Eglantine !" 
 
 And with this mamma, who was in her attitude, 
 holding up the end of her boa as a visionary tambour- 
 ine, and Mr. "Walker, who was looking at her, and in 
 his amusement at the mother's performances had almost 
 forgotten the charms of the daughter, — both turned 
 round at once, and looked at her with many expressions 
 of sympathy, while Eglantine, in a voice of reproach, 
 said, " Killed you, Morgiana ! I kill you P 
 
 " I'm better now," said the young lady, with a smile, 
 — " I'm better, Mr. Archibald, now." And if the truth 
 must be told, no greater coquette than Miss Morgiana 
 existed in all Mayfair, — no, not among the most fash- 
 ionable mistresses of the fashionable valets who fre- 
 quented the Bootjack. She believed herself to be the 
 most fascinating creature that the world ever produced ; 
 she never saw a stranger but she tried these fascina- 
 tions upon him ; and her charms of manner and person 
 were of that showy sort which is most popular in this 
 world, where people are wont to admire most that 
 which gives them the least trouble to see ; and so you 
 will find a tulip of a woman to be in fashion, when a 
 little humble violet or daisy of creation is passed over 
 without remark. Morgiana was a tulip among women, 
 and the tulip-fanciers all came flocking round her. 
 
 Well, the said " Oh !" and " I'm better now, Mr. 
 Archibald," thereby succeeded in drawing every body's 
 attention to her lovely self. By the latter words Mr. 
 Eglantine was specially inflamed ; he glanced at Mr. 
 
66 
 
 Walker, and said, " Capting ! didn't I tell you she was 
 a creecher ? See her hair, sir, it's as black and as glossy 
 as salting. It weighs fifteen pound that hair, sir ; and 
 I wouldn't let my apprentice — that blundering Moss- 
 rose, for instance (hang him !) — I wouldn't let any one 
 but myself dress that hair for 500 guineas ! Ah, Miss 
 Morgiana, remember that you may always have Eglan- 
 tine to dress your hair ! — remember that, that's all." 
 And with this the worthy gentleman began rubbing 
 delicately a little of the Eglantinia into those ambrosial 
 locks, which he loved with all the love of a man and an 
 artist. 
 
 And as for Morgiana showing her hair, I hope none 
 of my readers will entertain a bad opinion of the poor 
 girl for doing so. Her locks were her pride ; she acted 
 at the private theatre hair parts, where she could appear 
 on purpose to show them in a dishevelled state ; and 
 that her modesty was real, and not affected, may be 
 proved by the fact that when Mr. Walker, stepping up 
 in the midst of Eglantine's last speech, took hold of a 
 lock of her hair very gently with his hand, she cried, 
 " Oh !" and started with all her might. And Mr. Eg- 
 lantine observed, very gravely, " Capting ! Miss Crump's 
 hair is to be seen, and not to be touched, if you please." 
 
 " ISTo more it is, Mr. Eglantine," said her mamma ; 
 " and now, as it's come to my turn, I beg the gentle- 
 man will be so obliging as to go." 
 
 " Must I?" cried Mr. Walker ; and as it was half- 
 past six, and he was engaged to dinner at the Eegent 
 Club, and as he did not wish to make Eglantine jealous, 
 who evidently was annoyed by his staying, he took his 
 hat just as Miss Crump's coiffure was completed, and, 
 saluting her and her mamma, left the room. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 67 
 
 "A tip-top swell, I can assure you" said Eglantine, 
 nodding after him ; " a regular bang-up chap, and no 
 mistake. Intimate with the Marquess of Billingsgate, 
 and Lord Vauxhall, and that set." 
 
 " He's very genteel," said Mrs. Crump. 
 
 " Law ! I'm sure I think nothing of him," said 
 Morgiana. 
 
 And Captain Walker walked towards his club, 
 meditating on the beauties of Morgiana. " What hair," 
 said he ; u what eyes the gal has ! they're as big as 
 billiard balls ; and £5000. Eglantine's in luck : £5000 
 — she can't have it, it's impossible !" 
 
 No sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, during 
 the time of w 7 hich operation Morgiana sat in perfect 
 contentment looking at the last French fashions in the 
 Courrier des Dames, and thinking how her pink satin 
 slip would dye, and make just such a mantilla as that 
 represented in the engraving, — no sooner was Mrs, 
 Crump's front arranged, than both ladies, taking leave 
 of Mr. Eglantine, tripped back to the Bootjack Hotel, in 
 the neighbourhood ; where a very neat green fly was 
 already in w r aiting, the gentleman on the box of which 
 (from a livery-stable in the neighbourhood) gave a 
 knowing touch to his hat, and a salute with his whip, 
 to the two ladies, as they entered the tavern. 
 
 " Mr. W.'s inside," said the man, a driver from Mr. 
 Snaffle's establishment ; " he's been in and out this 
 score of times, and looking down the street for you." 
 And in the house, in fact, was Mr. Woolsey, the tailor, 
 who had hired the fly, and was engaged to conduct the 
 ladies that evening to the play. 
 
 It was really rather too bad to think that Miss Morgia- 
 
68 men's wives. 
 
 na, after going to one lover to have her hair dressed, should 
 go with another to the play ; but such is the way with 
 lovely woman ! Let her have a dozen admirers, and 
 the dear coquette will exercise her power upon them 
 all ; and as a lady, when she has a large wardrobe, and 
 a taste for variety in dress, will appear every day in a 
 different costume ; so will the young and giddy beauty 
 wear her lovers, encouraging now the black whiskers, 
 now smiling on the brown, now thinking that the gay 
 smiling rattle of an admirer becomes her very well, and 
 now adopting the sad sentimental melancholy one, ac- 
 cording as her changeful fancy prompts her. Let us 
 not be too angry with these uncertainties and caprices 
 of beauty, and depend on it that, for the most part, 
 those females who cry out loudest against the flighti- 
 ness of their sisters, and rebuke their undue encourage- 
 ment of this man or that, would do as much themselves 
 if they had the chance, and are constant, as I am to my 
 coat just now, because I have no other. 
 
 "Did you see Doubleyon, 'Gina dear?" said her 
 mamma, addressing that young lady. " He's in the 
 bar with your pa, and has his military coat with the 
 king's button, and looks like an officer." 
 
 This was Mr. Woolsey's style, his great aim being 
 to look like an army gent, for many of whom he in his 
 capacity of tailor made those splendid red and blue 
 coats which characterize our military. As for the royal 
 button, had not he made a set of coats for his late ma- 
 jesty George IV. % and he would add, when he narrated 
 this circumstance, " Sir, Prince Blucher and Prince 
 Swartzenberg's measure's in the house now ; and what's 
 more, I've cut for Wellington." I believe he would 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 69 
 
 have gone to St. Helena to make a coat for Napoleon, 
 so great was his ardour. He wore a blue-black wig, 
 and his whiskers were of the same hue. He was brief 
 and stern in conversation, and he always went to 
 masquerades and balls in a field-marshal's uniform. 
 
 " He looks really quite the thing to-night," contin- 
 ued Mrs. Crump. 
 
 " Yes," said 'Gina ; " but he's such an odious wig, 
 and the dye of his whiskers always comes off on his 
 white gloves." 
 
 " Every body has not their own hair, love," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Crump with a sigh ; " but Eglantine's is 
 beautiful." 
 
 " Every hairdresser's is," answered Morgiana, rather 
 contemptuously ; " but what I can't bear is, that their 
 fingers is always so very fat and pudgy." 
 
 In fact, something had gone wrong with the fair 
 Morgiana. Was it that she had but little liking for 
 the one pretender or the other ? Was it that young 
 Glauber, who acted Romeo in the private theatricals, 
 was far younger and more agreeable than either ? Or 
 was it, that seeing a real gentleman, such as Mr. Walker, 
 with whom she had had her first interview, she felt more 
 and more the want of refinement in her other declared 
 admirers ? Certain, however, it is, that she was very 
 reserved all the evening, in spite of the attentions of 
 Mr. Woolsey ; that she repeatedly looked round at the 
 i ;ox-door, as if she expected some one to enter ; and 
 that she partook of only a very few oysters, indeed, out 
 of the barrel which the gallant tailor had sent down to 
 the Bootjack, and off which the party supped. 
 
 "What is it?" said Mr. Woolsey to his ally, Crump, 
 
70 men's wives. 
 
 as they sat together after the retirement of the ladies. 
 " She was dumb all night. She never once laughed at 
 the farce, nor cried at the tragedy, and you know she 
 laughs and cries uncommon. She only took half her 
 negus, and not above a quarter of her beer." 
 
 " No more she did !" replied Mr. Crump, very 
 calmly. " I think it must be the barber as has been 
 captivating her : he dressed her hair for the play." 
 
 "Hang him, I'll shoot him!" said Mr. Woolsey. 
 "A fat, foolish, effeminate beast like that marry Miss 
 Morgiana ? Never ! I will shoot him. I'll provoke 
 him next Saturday — I'll tread on his toe — I'll pull 
 his nose !" 
 
 " JSTo quarrelling at the Kidneys !" answered Crump, 
 sternly ; " there shall be no quarrelling in that room as 
 long as Fm in the chair !" 
 
 " Well, at any rate you'll stand my friend ?" 
 
 " You know I will," answered the other. " You 
 are honourable, and I like you better than Eglantine. 
 I trust you more than Eglantine, sir. You're more of 
 a man than Eglantine, though you are a tailor ; and I 
 wish with all my heart you may get Morgiana. Mrs. 
 C. goes the other way, I know : but I tell you what, 
 women will go their own ways, sir, and Morgy's like 
 her mother in this point, and, depend upon it, Morgv 
 will decide for herself." 
 
 Mr. Woolsey presently went home, still persisting 
 in his plan for the assassination of Eglantine. Mi-. 
 Crump went to bed very quietly, and snored through 
 the night at his usual tone. Mr. Eglantine passed 
 some feverish moments of jealousy, for he had come 
 down to the club in the evening, and had heard that 
 
THE RAVEXSWING. 
 
 71 
 
 Morgiana was gone to the play with his rival. And 
 Miss Morgiana dreamed of a man, who was, — must 
 we say it ? — exceedingly like Captain Howard Walker. 
 " Mrs. Captain So and So !" thought she. " O, I do 
 love a gentleman dearly !" 
 
 And about this time, too, Mr. Walker himself came 
 rolling home from the Regent, hiccupping, " Such hair ! 
 — such eyebrows ! — such eyes ! like b-b-billiard-balls, 
 by Jove !" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. WALKER MAKES THREE ATTEMPTS TO 
 ASCERTAIN THE DWELLING OF MORGIANA. 
 
 The day after the dinner at the Regent Club, Mr. 
 Walker stepped over to the shop of his friend the 
 perfumer, where, as usual, the young man, Mr. Moss- 
 rose, was established in the front premises. 
 
 For some reason or other, the captain was particu- 
 larly good-humoured ; and, quite forgetful of the words 
 which had passed between him and Mr. Eglantine's 
 lieutenant the day before, began addressing the latter 
 with extreme cordiality. 
 
 "A good morning to you, Mr. Mossrose," said 
 Captain Walker. "Why, sir, you look as fresh as 
 your namesake, — you do, indeed, now, Mossrose." 
 
 " You look ash yellow ash a guinea," responded 
 Mr. Mossrose, sulkily. He thought the captain was 
 hoaxing him. 
 
72 men's wives. 
 
 " My good sir," replies the other, nothing cast 
 down, " I drank rather too freely last night." 
 
 " The more beast you !" said Mr. Mossrose. 
 
 " Thank you, Mossrose ; the same to you," answered 
 the captain. 
 
 " If you call me a beast I'll punch your head off !" 
 answered the young man, who had much skill in the 
 art which many of his brethren practise. 
 
 " I didn't, my fine fellow," replied Walker ; " on 
 the contrary, you — " 
 
 " Do you mean to give me the lie ?" broke out the 
 indignant Mossrose, who hated the agent fiercely, and 
 did not in the least care to conceal his hate. 
 
 In fact, it was his fixed purpose to pick a quarrel 
 with Walker, and to drive him, if possible, from Mr. 
 Eglantine's shop. " Do you mean to give me the lie, I 
 say, Mr. Hooker Walker !" 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, Amos, hold your tongue !" 
 exclaimed the captain, to whom the name of Hooker 
 was as poison ; but, at this moment, a customer step- 
 ping in, Mr. Amos exchanged his ferocious aspect for a 
 bland grin, and Mr. Walker walked into the studio. 
 
 When in Mr. Eglantine's presence, Walker, too, was 
 all smiles in a minute, sunk down on a settee, held out 
 his hand to the perfumer, and began confidentially 
 discoursing with him. 
 
 " Such a dinner, Tiny, my boy," said he; "such 
 prime fellows to eat it, too! Billingsgate, Vauxhali, 
 Cinqbars, Buff of the Blues, and half-a-dozen more of 
 the best fellows in town. And what do you think the 
 dinner cost a-head ? I'll wager you'll never guess." 
 
 " Was it two guineas a-head ? — In course I mean 
 without wine," said the genteel perfumer. 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 73 
 
 u Guess again 3" 
 
 " Well, was it ten guineas a-liead ? I'll guess any 
 sum you please," replied Mr. Eglantine ; for I know 
 that when you nobs are together, you don't spare your 
 money. I, myself, at the Star and Garter at Richmond, 
 once paid " 
 
 " Eigh teen-pence f? 
 
 " Heighteen-pence, sir ? — I paid five-and-thirty shil- 
 lings per 'ead. I'd have you to know that I can act as 
 a gentlemen as well as any other gentleman, sir," an- 
 swered the perfumer with much dignity. 
 
 " Well, eigh teen-pence was what we paid, and not a 
 rap more, upon my honour." 
 
 " Nonsense, you're joking. The Marquess of Bil- 
 lingsgate dine for eighteen-pence ? Why, hang it, if 
 I was a marquess, I'd pay a five-pound note for my 
 lunch." 
 
 " You little know the person, Master Eglantine," 
 replied the captain, with a smile of contemptuous supe- 
 riority ; " you little know the real man of fashion, my 
 good fellow. Simplicity, sir, — simplicity's the charac- 
 teristic of the real gentleman, and so I'll tell you what 
 we had for dinner." 
 
 "Turtle and venison, of course; — no nob dines 
 without them" 
 
 " Psha ! we're sick of 'em ! We had pea-soup and 
 boiled tripe ! What do you think of that ? We had 
 sprats and herrings, a bullock's heart, a baked shoulder 
 of mutton and potatoes, pig's fry and Irish stew. 1 
 ordered the dinner, sir, and got more credit for invent- 
 ing it than they ever gave to Ude or Soye. The mar- 
 quess was in ecstasies, the earl devoured half a bushel 
 
74 men's wives. 
 
 of sprats, and if the viscount is not laid up with a sur- 
 feit of bullock's heart, my name's not Howard Walker. 
 Billy, as I call him, was in the chair, and gave my 
 health ; and what do you think the rascal proposed ?" 
 
 " What did his lordship propose V 
 
 " That every man present should subscribe twopence, 
 and pay for my share of the dinner. By Jove ! it is 
 true, and the money was handed to me in a pewter-pot, 
 of which they also begged to make me a present. We 
 afterwards went to Tom Spring's, from Tom's to the 
 Finish, from the Finish to the watchhouse — that is, 
 they did, — and sent for me just as I was getting into 
 bed to bail them all out." 
 
 They're happy dogs, those young noblemen," said 
 Mr. Eglantine ; " nothing but pleasure from morning 
 till night ; no affectation, neither, — no hoture ; but 
 manly, downright, straightforward good fellows." 
 
 " Should you like to meet them, Tiny, my boy ?" 
 said the captain. 
 
 " If I did, sir, I hope I should show myself to be the 
 gentleman," answered Mr. Eglantine. 
 
 " Well, you shall meet them, and Lady Billingsgate 
 shall order her perfumes at your shop. We are going 
 to dine, next week, all our set, at mealy-faced Bob's, and 
 you shall be my guest," cried the captain, slapping the 
 delighted artist on the back. " And now, my boy, tell 
 me how you spent the evening." 
 
 " At my club, sir," answered Mr. Eglantine, blush- 
 ing rather. 
 
 " What, not at the play with the lovely black-eyed 
 Miss — what is her name, Eglantine ?" 
 
 " Never mind her name, captain," replied Eglantine. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 75 
 
 partly from prudence and partly from shame. He had 
 not the heart to own it was Crump, and he did not 
 care that the captain should know more of his destined 
 bride. 
 
 u You wish to keep the five thousand to yourself, 
 eh ! you rogue ?" responded the captain, with a good- 
 humoured air, although exceedingly mortified ; for, to 
 say the truth, he had put himself to the trouble of tell- 
 ing the above long story of the dinner, and of promising 
 to introduce Eglantine to the lords, solely that he might 
 elicit from that gentleman's good-humour some further 
 particulars regarding the young lady with the billiard- 
 ball eyes. It was for the very same reason, too, that 
 he had made the attempt at reconciliation with Mr. 
 Mossrose, which had just so signally failed. Nor would 
 the reader, did he know Mr. W. better, at all require to 
 have the above explanation ; but as yet we are only at 
 the first chapter of his history, and who is to know what 
 the hero's motives can be unless we take the trouble to 
 explain ? 
 
 Well, the little dignified answer of the worthy dealer 
 in bergamot, " Never mind her name, captain /" threw 
 the gallant captain quite back ; and though he sat for a 
 quarter of an hour longer, and was exceeedingly kind ; 
 and though he threw out some skilful hints, yet the 
 perfumer was quite unconquerable ; or, rather, he was 
 too frightened to tell ; the poor, fat, timid, easy, good- 
 natured gentleman was always the prey of rogues, — 
 panting and floundering in one rascal's snare or an- 
 other's. He had the dissimulation, too, which timid 
 men have ; and felt the presence of a victimizer as a 
 hare does of a greyhound. Now he would be quite 
 
76 men's wives. 
 
 still, now he would double, and now he would run, and 
 then came the end. He knew, by his sure instinct of 
 fear, that the captain had, in asking these questions, a 
 scheme against him, and so he was cautious, and trem- 
 bled, and doubted. And oh ! how he thanked his stars 
 when Lady Grogm ore's chariot drove up, with the 
 Misses Grogmore, who wanted their hair dressed, and 
 were going to a breakfast at three o'clock ! 
 
 " I'll look in again, Tiny," said the captain, on hear- 
 ing the summons. 
 
 " Do, captain," replied the other : " thank you ;" 
 and went into the lady's studio with a heavy heart. 
 
 " Get out of the way, you infernal villain !" roared 
 the captain, with many oaths, to Lady Grogmore's large 
 footman, with ruby-coloured tights, who was standing 
 inhaling the ten thousand perfumes of the shop; and 
 the latter, moving away in great terror, the gallant 
 agent passed out, quite heedless of the grin of Mr. 
 Mossrose. 
 
 Walker was in a fury at his want of success, and 
 walked down Bond Street in a fury. "I will know 
 where the girl lives !" swore he. " I'll spend a five- 
 pound note, by Jove ! rather than not know where she 
 lives !" 
 
 "That you would — I know you would!" said a 
 little, grave, low voice, all of a sudden, by his side. 
 " Pooh ! what's money to you V 
 
 Walker looked down ; it was Tom Dale. 
 
 Who in London did not know little Tom Dale ? 
 He had cheeks like an apple, and his hair curled every 
 morning, and a little blue stock, and always two new 
 magazines under his arm, and an umbrella and a little 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 11 
 
 brown frock coat, and big square-toed shoes with which 
 he vr ent papping down the street. He was every where 
 at once. Every body met him every day, and he knew 
 every thing that every body ever did ; though nobody 
 ever knew what he did. He was, they say, a hundred 
 years old, and had never dined at his own charge once 
 in those hundred years. He looked like a figure out 
 of a wax-work, with glassy, clear, meaningless eyes ; he 
 always spoke with a grin ; he knew what you had for 
 dinner the day before he met you, and what every body 
 had had for dinner for a century back almost. He was 
 the receptacle of all the scandal of all the world, from 
 Bond Street to Breed Street ; he knew all the authors, 
 all the actors, all the " notorieties " of the town, and 
 the private histories of each. That is, he never knew 
 any thing really, but supplied deficiencies of truth and 
 memory with ready-coined, never-failing lies. He was 
 the most benevolent man in the universe, and never saw 
 you without telling you every thing most cruel of your 
 neighbour, and when he left you he went to do the 
 same kind turn by yourself. 
 
 " Pooh ! what's money to you, rny dear boy f" said 
 little Tom Dale, who had just come out of Ebers's, 
 where he had been filching an opera-ticket. "You 
 make it in bushels in the city, you know you do, — in 
 ■ thousands. / saw you go into Eglantine's. Fine 
 business that ; finest in London. Five shilling cakes of 
 soap, my dear boy. / can't wash with such ; thou- 
 sands a-year that man has made, — hasn't he?" 
 
 "Upon my word, Tom, I don't know," says the cap- 
 tain. 
 
 "You not know ? Don't tell me. You know every 
 
78 men's wives. 
 
 thing — you agents. Yon know he makes five thousand 
 a-year, — ay, and might make ten, but you know why 
 he don't." 
 
 "Indeed I don't." 
 
 u Nonsense. Don't humbug a poor old fellow like 
 me. Jews — Amos — fifty per cent., ay ? Why can't he 
 get his money from a good Christian ?" 
 
 " I have heard something of that sort," said Walker, 
 laughing. "Why, by Jove, Tom, you know every 
 thing !" 
 
 " You know every thing, my dear boy. You know 
 what a rascally trick that opera creature served him, 
 poor fellow. Cashmere shawls — Storr and Mortimer's 
 — Star and Garter. Much better dine quiet off pea- 
 soup and sprats, — ay ? His betters have, as you know 
 very well." 
 
 " Pea-soup and sprats ! What, have you heard of 
 that already?" 
 
 " Who bailed Lord Billingsgate, ay, you rogue ?" 
 and here Tom gave a knowing and almost demoniacal 
 grin. " Who wouldn't go to the Finish ? Who had 
 the piece of plate presented to him filled with sovereigns ? 
 And you deserved it, my dear boy — you deserved it. 
 They said it was only halfpence, but / know better !" 
 and here Tom went off in a cough. 
 
 "I say, Tom," cried Walker, inspired with a sudden 
 thought, " you, who know every thing, and are a the- 
 atrical man, did you ever know a Miss Delancy, an ac- 
 tress ?" 
 
 " At Sadler's Wells, in '16 ? Of course I did. Real 
 name was Budge. Lord Slapper admired her very 
 much, my dear boy. She married a man by the name 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 79 
 
 of Crump, his lordship's black footman, and brought 
 him five thousand pounds ; and they keep the Bootjack 
 public-house in Bunker's Buildings, and they've got 
 fourteen children. Is one of them handsome, eh, you 
 sly rogue, — and is it that which you will give five 
 pounds to know ? God bless you, my dear, dear boy. 
 Jones, my dear friend, how are you S" 
 
 And now, seizing on Jones, Tom Dale left Mr. 
 Walker alone, and proceeded to pour into Mr. Jones's 
 ear an account of the individual whom he had just 
 quitted ; how he was the best fellow in the world, and 
 Jones knew it ; how he was in a fine way of making 
 his fortune; how he had been in the Fleet many times 
 and how he was at this moment employed in looking 
 out for a young lady of whom a certain great marquess 
 (whom Jones' knew very well, too) had expressed an 
 admiration. 
 
 But for these observations, which he did not hear, 
 Captain Walker, it may be pronounced, did not care. 
 His eyes brightened up, he marched quickly and gaily 
 away ; and turning into his own chambers opposite Eg- 
 lantine's shop, saluted that establishment with a grin of 
 triumph. " You wouldn't tell me her name, wouldn't 
 you ?" said Mr. Walker. " Well, the luck's with me 
 now, and here goes." 
 
 Two days after as Mr. Eglantine, with white gloves 
 and a case of eau de Cologne as a present in his pocket, 
 arrived at the Bootjack Hotel, Little Bunker's Buildings, 
 Berkeley Square (for it must out — that was the place 
 in which Mr. Crump's inn was situated), he paused for 
 a moment at the threshold of the little house of enter- 
 tainment, and listened, with beating heart, to the sound 
 
80 men's wives. 
 
 of delicious music that a well-known voice was uttering 
 within. 
 
 The moon was playing in silvery brightness clown 
 the gutter of the humble street. A u helper," rubbing 
 down one of Lady Srnigsmag's carriage horses,' even 
 paused in his whistle to listen to the strain. Mr. 
 Tressle's man, who had been professionally occupied, 
 ceased his tap-tap upon the coffin which he was getting 
 In readiness. The greengrocer (there is always a green- 
 grocer in those narrow streets, and he goes out in white 
 Berlin gloves as a supernumerary footman) was stand- 
 ing charmed at his little green gate ; the cobbler (there 
 is always a cobbler, too) was drunk, as usual, of even- 
 ings, but, with unusual subordination, never sung 
 except when the refrain of the ditty arrived, when he 
 hiccupped it forth with tipsy loyalty ; and Eglantine 
 leaned against the Chequers painted on the door-side 
 under the name of Crump, and looked at the red illu- 
 mined curtain of the bar, and the vast, well-known 
 shadow of Mrs. Crump's turban within. Now and 
 again the shadow of that worthy matron's hand would 
 be seen to grasp the shadow of a bottle ; then the shadow 
 of a cup would rise towards the turban, and still the 
 strain proceeded. Eglantine, I say, took out his yellow 
 bandana, and brushed the beady drops from his brow, 
 and laid the contents of his white kids on his heart, and 
 sighed with ecstatic sympathy. The song began, — 
 
 Come to the greenwood tree,* 
 Come where the dark woods be, 
 Dearest, oh come with me ! 
 
 * The words of this song are copyright, nor will the copy, 
 right be sold for less than twopence-halfpenny, 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 81 
 
 Let us rove — oh my love — oh my love ! 
 Oh my-y love I 
 {Drunken cobbler without), Oh, my-y love 1 
 
 " Beast !" says Eglantine. 
 
 Come — 'tis the moonlight hour, 
 Dew is on leaf and flower, 
 Come to the linden bower, — 
 Let us rove — oh my love — oh my love ! 
 Let us ro-o-ove, lurlurliety ; yes we'll rove, lurlurliety, 
 Through the gro-o-ove, lurlurliety — lurlurli-e-i-e-i-e-i ! 
 ( Cobbler as usual.) Let us ro-o-ove, &c. 
 
 " You here V says another individual coming clink- 
 ing up the street, in a military cut dress-coat, the buttons 
 whereof shone very bright in the moonlight. " You 
 here, Eglantine ? — You're always here." 
 
 " Hush, Woolsey," said Mr. Eglantine to his rival 
 the tailor (for he was the individual in question) ; and 
 Woolsey, accordingly, put his back against the opposite 
 door-post and Chequers, so that (with poor Eglantine's 
 bulk) nothing much thicker than a sheet of paper could 
 pass out or in. And thus these two amorous Caryatides 
 kept guard as the song continued : — 
 
 Dark is the wood, and wide, 
 Dangers, they say, betide ; 
 But, at my Albert's side, 
 Nought I fear, oh my love — oh my love ! 
 
 Welcome the greenwood tree, 
 Welcome the forest free, 
 Dearest, with thee, with thee, 
 Nought I fear, oh my love — o-h ma-a-y love ! 
 
 4* 
 
82 men's wives. 
 
 Eglantine's fine eyes were filled with tears as Mor- 
 giana passionately uttered the above beautiful words. 
 Little Woolsey's eyes glistened, as he clenched his fist 
 with an oath, and said, " Show me any singing that 
 can beat that. Cobbler, shut your mouth, or I'll break 
 your head !" 
 
 But the cobbler, regardless of the threat, continued 
 to perform the " Lurlaliety " with great accuracy ; and 
 when that was ended, both on his part and Morgi ana's, 
 a rapturous knocking of glasses was heard in the little 
 bar, then a great claj^ping of hands, and finally, some- 
 body shouted " Brava /" 
 
 " Brava !" 
 
 At that word Eglantine turned deadly pale, then 
 gave a start, then a rush forward which pinned, or 
 rather cushioned, the tailor against the wall ; then twist- 
 ing himself abruptly round, he sprung to the door of 
 the bar, and bounced into that apartment. 
 
 " How are you, my nosegay P exclaimed the same 
 voice which had shouted " Brava." It was that of 
 Captain Walker. 
 
 At ten o'clock the next morning a gentleman, with 
 the king's button on his military coat, walked abruptly 
 into Mr. Eglantine's shop, and, turning on Mr. Mossrose, 
 said, " Tell your master I want to see him." 
 
 " He's in his studio," said Mr. Mossrose. 
 
 " Well then, fellow, go and fetch him !" 
 
 And Mossrose, thinking it must be the lord-cham- 
 berlain, or Doctor Prsetorius at least, walked into the 
 studio, where the perfumer was seated in a very glossy old 
 silk dressing-gown, his fair hair hanging over his white 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 83 
 
 face, his double chin over his flaccid, whity-brown shirt- 
 collar, his pea-green slippers on the hob, and, on the 
 fire, the pot of chocolate which was simmering for his 
 breakfast. A lazier fellow than poor Eglantine it would 
 be hard to find ; whereas, on the contrary, Woolsey 
 was always up and brushed, spick-and-span, at seven 
 o'clock ; and had gone through his books, and given 
 out the work for the journeymen, and eaten a hearty 
 breakfast of rashers of bacon, before Eglantine had put 
 the usual pound of grease to his hair (his fingers were 
 always as damp and shiny as if he had them in a po- 
 matum-pot), and arranged his figure for the day. 
 
 " Here's a gent wants you in the shop," says Mr. 
 Mossrose, having the door of communication wide open. 
 
 " Say I'm in bed, Mr. Mossrose ; I'm out of sper- 
 rets, and really can see nobody." 
 
 " It's some one from Vindsor, I think ; he's got the 
 royal button," says Mossrose. 
 
 " It's me — Woolsey," shouted the little man from 
 the shop. 
 
 Mr. Eglantine at this jumped up, made a rush to 
 the door leading to his private apartment, and disap- 
 peared in a twinkling. But it must not be imagined 
 that he fled in order to avoid Mr. Woolsey. He only 
 went away for one minute just to put on his belt, for he 
 was ashamed to be seen without it by his rival. 
 
 This being assumed, and his toilet somewhat ar- 
 ranged, Mr. Woolsey was admitted into his private 
 room. And Mossrose would have heard every word of 
 the conversation between those two gentlemen, had not 
 Woolsey, opening the door, suddenly pounced on the 
 assistant, taken him by the collar, and told him to dis- 
 
84 
 
 appear altogether into the shop, which Mossrose did, 
 vowing he would have his revenge. 
 
 The subject which Woolsey had come to treat was 
 an important one. " Mr. Eglantine," says he, " there's 
 no use disguising from one another that we are both of 
 us in love with Miss Morgiana, and that our chances up 
 to this time have been pretty equal. But that captain 
 whom you introduced, like an ass as you were w 
 
 " An ass, Mr. Woolsey ? I'd have you to know, 
 sir, that I'm no more a hass than you are, sir ; and as 
 for introducing the captain, I did no such thing." 
 
 " Well, well, he's got a poaching into our preserves 
 somehow. He's evidently sweet upon the young wo- 
 man, and is a more fashionable chap than either of us 
 two. We must get him out of the house, sir — we must 
 circumwent him ; and then, Mr. Eglantine, will be time 
 enough for you and me to try which is the best man." 
 
 " He the best man !" thought Eglantine, " the little, 
 bald, unsightly tailor-creature ! A. man with no more 
 soul than his smoothing-hiron !" But the perfumer, as 
 may be imagined, did not utter this sentiment aloud, 
 but expressed himself quite willing to enter into any 
 hamicahle arrangement, by which the new candidate for 
 Miss Crump's favour must be thrown over. It was, ac- 
 cordingly, agreed between the two gentlemen that they 
 should coalesce against the common enemy ; that they 
 should, by reciting many perfectly well-founded stories 
 in the captain's disfavour, influence the minds of Miss 
 Crump's parents, and of herself, if possible, against this 
 wolf in sheep's clothing ; and that, when they were 
 once fairly rid of him, each should be at liberty, as be- 
 fore, to prefer his own claim. 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 85 
 
 " I have thought of a subject," said the little tailor, 
 turning very red, and hemming and hawing a great 
 deal. " I've thought, I say, of a pint, which may be 
 resorted to with advantage at the present juncture, and 
 in which each of us may be useful to the other. An 
 exchange, Mr. Eglantine, do you take ?" 
 
 " Do you mean an accommodation-bill ?" said Eg- 
 lantine, whose mind ran a good deal on that species of 
 exchange. 
 
 11 Pooh, nonsense, sir. The name of our firm is, I 
 flatter myself, a little more up in the market than some 
 other people's names." 
 
 "Do you mean to insult the name of Archibald 
 Eglantine, sir ? I'd have you to know that at three 
 months " 
 
 " Nonsense !" says Mr. Woolsey, mastering his emo- 
 tion ; " there's no use a-quarrelling, Mr. E. ; we're not 
 in love with each other, I know that. You w r ish me 
 hanged, or as good, I know that !" 
 
 " Indeed I don't, sir !" 
 
 " You do, sir ; I tell you, you do ! and what's more, 
 I wish the same to you — transported, at any rate ! But 
 as two sailors, when a boat's a-sinking, though they 
 hate each other ever so much, will help and bale the 
 boat out ; so, sir, let us act : let us be the two sailors." 
 
 " Bail, sir !" said Eglantine, as usual mistaking the 
 drift of the argument, " I'll bail no man ! If you're in 
 difficulties, I think you had better go to your senior 
 partner, Mr. Woolsey ;" and Eglantine's cowardly little 
 soul was filled with a savage satisfaction to think that 
 his enemy was in distress, and had actually been obliged 
 to come to him for succour. 
 
86 
 
 "You're enough to make Job swear, you great, fat, 
 stupid, lazy, old barber !" roared Mr. Woolsey, in a 
 fury. 
 
 Eglantine jumped up and made for the bell-rope. 
 The gallant little tailor laughed. 
 
 " There's no need to call in Betsy," said he, " I'm 
 not a-going to eat you, Eglantine ; you're a bigger man 
 than me : if you were just to fall on me, you'd smother 
 me ! Just sit still on the sofa and listen to reason." 
 
 " Well, sir, pro-ceed," said the barber, with a gasp. 
 
 " JSTow, listen ! What's the darling wish of your 
 heart ? I know it, sir ! you've told it to Mr. Tressle, sir, 
 and other gents at the club. The darling wish of your 
 heart, sir, is to have a slap- up coat turned out of the 
 ateliers of Messrs. Linsey, Woolsey and Company. You 
 said you'd give twenty guineas for one of our coats, you 
 know you did ! Lord Bolsterton's a fatter man than 
 you, and look what a figure we turn him out. Can any 
 firm in England dress Lord Bolsterton but us, so as to 
 make his lordship look decent ? I defy 'em, sir ! We 
 could have given Daniel Lambert a figure !" 
 
 " If I want a coat, sir," said Mr. Eglantine, " and I 
 don't deny it, there's some people want a head of 
 hair!" 
 
 " That's the very point I was coming to," said the 
 tailor, resuming the violent blush which was mentioned 
 as having suffused his countenance at the beginning of 
 the conversation. "Let us have terms of mutual ac- 
 commodation. Make me a wig, Mr. Eglantine, and 
 though I never yet cut a yard of cloth except for a 
 gentleman, I'll pledge you my word I'll make you a 
 coat." 
 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 87 
 
 " Will you, honour bright ?" says Eglantine. 
 
 " Honour bright," says the tailor. " Look !" and in 
 an instant he drew from his pocket one of those slips 
 of parchment which gentlemen of his profession carry, 
 and putting Eglantine into the proper position, began to 
 take the preliminary observations. He felt Eglantine's 
 heart thump with happiness as his measure passed over 
 that soft part of the perfumer's person. 
 
 Then putting down the window-blind, and looking 
 that the door was locked, and blushing still more deeply 
 than ever, the tailor seated himself in an arm-chair to- 
 wards which Mr. Eglantine beckoned him, and, taking 
 off his black wig, exposed his head to the great perru- 
 quier's gaze. Mr. Eglantine looked at it, measured it, 
 manipulated it, sat for three minutes with his head in 
 his hand and his elbow on his knee gazing at the 
 tailor's cranium with all his might, walked round it 
 twice or thrice, and then said, " It's enough, Mr. Wool- 
 sey, consider the job as done. And now, sir," said he, 
 with a greatly relieved air, " and now, Woolsey, let us 
 'ave a glass of curacoa to celebrate this hauspicious 
 meeting." 
 
 The tailor, however, stiffly replied that he never 
 drunk in a morning, and left the room without offering 
 to shake Mr. Eglantine by the hand, for he despised 
 that gentleman very heartily, and himself, too, for com- 
 ing to any compromise with him, and for so far demean- 
 ing himself as to make a coat for a barber. 
 
 Looking from his chambers on the other side of the 
 street, that inevitable Mr. Walker saw the tailor issuing 
 from the perfumer's shop, and was at no loss to guess 
 that something extraordinary must be in progress when 
 two such bitter enemies met together. 
 
88 men's wives. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 WHAT CAME OF MR. WALKER^ DISCOVERY OF THE BOOT- 
 JACK. 
 
 It is very easy to state how the captain came to take 
 up that proud position at the Bootjack which we have 
 seen him occupy on the evening when the sound of the 
 fatal "brava" so astonished Mr. Eglantine. 
 
 The mere entry into the establishment was, of 
 course, not difficult. Any person by simply uttering 
 the words, " A pint of beer," was free of the Bootjack ; 
 and it was some such watchword that Howard Walker 
 employed when he made his first appearance. He re- 
 quested to be shown into a parlour where he might 
 repose himself for a while, and was ushered into that 
 very sanctum where the Kidney Club met. Then he 
 stated that the beer was the best he had ever tasted, 
 except in Bavaria, and in some parts of Spain, he added ; 
 ' and professing to be extremely " peckish," requested to 
 know if there were any cold meat in the house whereof 
 he could make a dinner. 
 
 " I don't usually dine at this hour, landlord," said 
 he, flinging down a half-sovereign for payment of the 
 beer ; " but your parlour looks so comfortable and the 
 Windsor chairs are so snug, that I'm sure I could not 
 dine better at the first club in London." 
 
 " One of the first clubs in London is held in this 
 very room," said Mr. Cramp, very well pleased ; " and 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 89 
 
 attended by some of the best gents in town, too. We 
 call it the Kidney Club." 
 
 " Why, bless my soul ! it is the very club my friend, 
 Eglantine, has so often talked to me about, and attended 
 by some of the tip-top tradesmen of the metropolis !" 
 
 " There's better men here than Mr. Eglantine," re- 
 plied Mr. Crump ; " though he's a good man — I don't 
 say he's not a good man — but there's better. Mr. 
 Clinker, sir; Mr. Woolsey, of the house of Linsey, 
 Woolsey and Co." 
 
 "The great army-clothiers!" cried Walker; "the 
 first house in town !" and so continued, with exceeding 
 urbanity, holding conversation with Mr. Crump, until 
 the honest landlord retired delighted, and told Mrs. 
 Crump in the bar that there was a tip-top swell in the 
 Kidney parlour, who was a-going to have his dinner 
 there. 
 
 Fortune favoured the brave captain in every way, it 
 was just Mr. Crump's own dinner-hour ; and on Mrs. 
 Crump's stepping into the parlour to ask the guest 
 whether he would like a slice of the joint to which the 
 family were about to sit down, fancy that lady's start of 
 astonishment at recognizing Mr. Eglantine's facetious 
 friend the day before. The captain at once demanded 
 permission to partake of the joint at the family table; 
 the lady could not with any great reason deny this re- 
 quest ; the captain was inducted into the bar, and Miss 
 Crump, who always came down late for dinner, was 
 even more astonished than her mamma on beholding 
 the occupier of the fourth place at the table. Had she 
 expected to see the fascinating stranger so soon again ? 
 I think she had. Her big eyes said as much, as, fur- 
 
90 men's wives. 
 
 tively looking up at Mr. Walker's face, they caught his 
 looks ; and then bouncing down again towards her plate, 
 pretended to be very busy in looking at the boiled beef 
 and carrots there displayed. She blushed far redder 
 than those carrots, but her shining ringlets hid her con- 
 fusion together with her lovely face. 
 
 Sweet Morgiana! the billiard-ball eyes had a tre- 
 mendous effect on the captain. They fell plump, as it 
 were, into the pocket of his heart ; and he gallantly pro- 
 posed to treat the company to a bottle of champagne, 
 which was accepted without much difficulty. 
 
 Mr. Crump, under pretence of going to the cellar 
 (where he said he had some cases of the finest cham- 
 pagne in Europe), called Dick, the boy, to him, and 
 despatched him with all speed to a wine-merchant's, 
 where a couple of bottles of the liquor were procured. 
 
 " Bring up two bottles, Mr. C," Captain Walker 
 gallantly said when Crump made his move, as it were, 
 to the cellar ; and it may be imagined after the two 
 bottles were drunk (of which Mrs. Crump took at least 
 nine glasses to her share), how happy, merry, and con- 
 fidential the whole party had become. Crump told his 
 story of the Bootjack, and whose boot it had drawn ; 
 the former Miss Delaney expatiated on her past theat- 
 rical life, and in the pictures hanging round the room. 
 Miss was equally communicative ; and, in short, the 
 captain had all the secrets of the little family in his pos- 
 session ere sunset. He knew that Miss cared little for 
 either of her suitors, about whom mamma and papa 
 had a little quarrel. He heard Mrs. Crump talk of 
 Morgiana's property, and fell more in love with her than 
 ever. Then came tea, the luscious crumpet, the quiet 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 91 
 
 game at cribbage, and the song — the song which poor 
 Eglantine heard, and which caused Woolsey's rage and 
 his despair. 
 
 At the close of the evening the tailor was in a greater 
 rage, and the perfumer in greater despair than ever. 
 He had made his little present of eau de Cologne. 
 " Oh, fie !" says the captain, with a horselaugh, H it 
 smells of the shop /" He taunted the tailor about his 
 wig, and the honest fellow had only an oath to give by 
 way of repartee. He told his stones about his club and 
 his lordly friends. What chance had either against 
 the all-accomplished Howard Walker ? 
 
 Old Crump, with a good innate sense of right and 
 wrong, hated the man ; Mrs. Crump did not feel quite 
 at her ease regarding him, but Morgiana thought him 
 the most delightful person the world ever produced. 
 
 Eglantine's usual morning costume was a blue satin 
 neck-cloth, embroidered with butterflies and ornamented 
 with a brandy-ball brooch, a light shawl waistcoat, and 
 a rhubarb-coloured coat of the sort which I believe are 
 called Taglionis, and which have no waist-buttons, ancl 
 make a pretence, as it were, to have no waists, but are, 
 in reality, adopted by the fat in order to give them a 
 waist. Nothing easier for an obese man than to have 
 a waist ; he has but to pinch his middle part a little, 
 and the very fat on either side pushed violently forward 
 makes a waist, as it were, and our worthy perfumer's 
 figure was that of a bolster cut almost in two with a 
 string. 
 
 Walker presently saw him at his shop-door grinning 
 in this costume, twiddling his ringlets with his dumpy 
 greasy fingers, glittering with oil and rings, and looking 
 
92 men's wives. 
 
 so exceedingly contented and happy that the estate- 
 agent felt assured some very satisfactory conspiracy had 
 been planned between the tailor and him. How was Mr. 
 Walker to learn what the scheme was ? Alas ! the poor 
 fellow's vanity and delight were such, that he could not 
 keep silent as to the cause of his satisfaction, and, rather 
 than not mention it at all, in the fulness of his heart he 
 would have told his secret to Mr. Mossrose himself. 
 
 " When I get my coat," thought the Bond Street 
 Alnaschar, " I'll hire of Snaffle that easy-going cream- 
 coloured 'oss that he bought from Astley's, and I'll can- 
 ter through the Park, and won't I pass through little 
 Bunker's Buildings, that's all ? I'll wear my gray 
 trousers with the velvet stripe down the side, and get 
 my spurs lacquered up, and with a French polish to my 
 boot ; and if I don't do for the captain and the tailor 
 too, my name's not Archibald. And I'll tell you what 
 I'll do : I'll hire the small Clarence, and invite the 
 Crumps to dinner at the Gar and Starter (this was his 
 facetious way of calling the Star and Garter), and I'll 
 ride by them all the way to Richmond. It's rather a 
 long ride, but with Snaffle's soft saddle I can do it 
 pretty easy, I dare say." And so the honest fellow 
 built castles upon castles in the air ; and the last and 
 most beautiful vision of all was Miss Crump " in white 
 satting with a horange flower in her 'air," putting him 
 in possession of her lovely hand before the altar of St. 
 George's, 'Anover Square. As for Woolsey, Eglantine 
 determined that he should have the best wig his art 
 could produce, for he had not the least fear of his rival. 
 
 These points then being arranged to the poor fellow's 
 satisfaction, what does he do but send out for half a quire 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 93 
 
 . ■ * 
 
 of pink note-paper, and in a filagree envelop despatch 
 a note of invitation to the ladies at the Bootjack : — 
 
 " Bower of Bloom, Bond Street, 
 Thursday. 
 " Mr. Archibald Eglantine presents his compliments to Mrs. 
 and Miss Crump, and requests the honour and pleasure of 
 their company at the Star and Garter at Richmond to an early 
 dinner on Sunday next. 
 
 " If agreeable, Mr. Eglantine's carnage will be at your door 
 at three o'clock, and I propose to accompany them on horseback 
 if agreeable likewise." 
 
 This note was sealed with yellow wax, and sent to 
 its destination ; and, of course, Mr. Eglantine went him- 
 self for the answer in the evening ; and of course he 
 told the ladies to look out for a certain new coat he 
 was going to sport on Sunday ; and, of course, Mr. 
 Walker happens to call the next day with spare tickets 
 for Mrs. Crump and her daughter, when the whole 
 secret was laid bare to him, how the ladies were going 
 to Richmond on Sunday in Mr. Snaffle's Clarence, and 
 how Mr. Eglantine was to ride by their side. 
 
 Mr. Walker did not keep horses of his own, his 
 magnificent friends at the Regent had plenty in their 
 stables, and some of these were at livery at the estab- 
 lishment of the captain's old "college" companion Mr. 
 Snaffle. It was easy, therefore, for the captain to renew 
 his acquaintance with that individual. So, hanging on 
 the arm of my Lord Vauxhall, Capt. Walker next day 
 made his appearance at Snaffle's livery-stables and 
 looked at the various horses there for sale or at bait, 
 and soon managed, by putting some facetious questions 
 to Mr. Snaffle regarding the Kidney Club, &c, to place 
 
94 men's wives. 
 
 himself on a friendly footing with that gentleman, and 
 to learn from him what horse Mr. Eglantine was to 
 ride on Sunday. 
 
 The monster Walker had fully determined in his 
 mind that Eglantine should fall off that horse in the 
 course of his Sunday's ride. 
 
 " That sing'lar hanimal," said Mr. Snaffle, pointing 
 to the old horse, " is the celebrated Hemperor that was 
 the wonder of Hastley's some years back, and was 
 parted with by Mr. Ducrow honly because his feelin's 
 wouldn't allow him to keep him no longer after the 
 death of the first Mrs. D., who invariably rode him. I 
 bought him, thinking that p'raps ladies and Cockney- 
 bucks might like to ride him (for his haction is wonder- 
 ful, and he canters like a harm-chair) ; but he's not 
 safe on any day except Sundays." 
 
 " And why's that ?" asked Captain "Walker. "Why 
 is he safer on Sundays than other days ?" 
 
 "Because there's no music in the streets on Sundays. 
 The first gent that rode him found himself dancing a 
 quadrille in Hupper Brooke Street to an 'urdy-gurdy 
 that was pi ay in ' Cherry ripe,' such is the natur of the 
 hanimal. And if you recklect the play of the Battle of 
 Hoysterlitz, in which Mrs. D. hacted ' the female hus- 
 sar,' you may remember how she and the horse died in 
 the third hact to the toon of ' God preserve the Em- 
 peror,' from which this horse took his name. Only 
 play that toon to him, and he rears hisself up, beats 
 the hair in time with his fore legs, and then sinks 
 gently to the ground, as though he were carried off by 
 a cannon-ball. He served a lady hopposite Hapsley 
 Ouse so one day, and since then I've never let him out 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 95 
 
 to a friend except on Sunday, when, in course, there's 
 no danger. Heglantine is a friend of mine, and, of 
 course, I wouldn't put the poor fellow on a hanimal I 
 couldn't trust." 
 
 After a little more conversation, my lord and his 
 friend quitted Mr. Snaffle's, and as they walked away 
 towards the Regent, his lordship might be heard shriek- 
 ing with laughter, crying " Capital, by jingo ! exthlent ! 
 Dwive down in the dwag ! Take Lungly. Worth a 
 thousand pound, by Jove !" and similar ejaculations, 
 indicative of exceeding delight. 
 
 On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment, 
 Mr. Woolsey called at Mr. Eglantine's with a yellow 
 handkerchief under his arm. It contained the best and 
 handsomest body-coat that ever gentleman put on. It 
 fitted Eglantine to a nicety — it did not pinch him in 
 the least, and yet it was of so exquisite a cut that the 
 perfumer found, as he gazed delighted in the glass, that 
 he looked like a manly, portly, high-bred gentleman — 
 a lieutenant-colonel in the army, at the very least. 
 
 "You're a full man, Eglantine," said the tailor, 
 delighted, too, with his own work ; " but that can't be 
 helped. You look more like Hercules than Falstaff 
 now, sir ; and if a coat can make a gentleman, a gen- 
 tleman you are. Let me recommend you to sink the 
 blue cravat, and take the stripes oft your trousers. 
 Dress quiet, sir ; draw it mild. Plain waistcoat, dark 
 trousers, black neckcloth, black hat, and if there's a 
 better- dressed man in Europe to-morrow I'm a Dutch- 
 man." 
 
 "Thank you, Woolsey — thank you, my dear sir," 
 
96 men's wives. 
 
 said the charmed perfumer. " And now I'll just trouble 
 you to try on this here." 
 
 The wig had been made with equal skill ; it was not 
 in the florid style which Mr. Eglantine loved in his own 
 person, but, as the perfumer said, a simple, straight for- 
 ward head of hair. " It seems as if it had grown there 
 all your life, Mr. Woolsey ; nobody would tell that it was 
 not your nat'ral colour (Mr. Woolsey blushed), it makes 
 you look ten year younger ; and as for that scarecrow 
 yonder, you'll never, I think, want to wear that again." 
 
 Woolsey looked in the glass and was delighted too. 
 The two rivals shook hands and straightway became 
 friends, and in the overflowing of his heart the perfumer 
 mentioned to the tailor the party which he had arranged 
 for the next day, and offered him a seat in the carriage 
 and at the dinner at the Star and Garter. " Would 
 you like to ride ?" said Eglantine, with rather a conse- 
 quential air, " Snaffle will mount you, and we can go 
 one on each side of the ladies, if you like." 
 
 But Woolsey humbly said he was not a riding man, 
 and gladly consented to take a place in the Clarence 
 carriage, provided he was allowed to bear half the ex- 
 penses of the entertainment. This proposal was agreed 
 to by Mr. Eglantine, and the two gentlemen parted to 
 meet once more at the Kidneys that night, when every 
 body was edified by the friendly tone adopted between 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Snaffle, at the club-meeting, made the very 
 same proposal to Mr. Woolsey that the perfumer had 
 made ; and stated that as Eglantine was going to ride 
 Hemperor, Woolsey, at least, ought to mount too. But 
 he was met by the same modest refusal on the tailor's 
 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 97 
 
 part, who stated that he had never mounted a horse 
 yet, and preferred greatly the use of a coach. 
 
 Eglantine's character as a " swell " rose greatly 
 with the club that evening. 
 
 Two o'clock on Sunday came ; the two beaux ar- 
 rived punctually at the door to receive the two smiling 
 ladies. 
 
 " Bless us, Mr. Eglantine !" said Miss Crump, quite 
 struck by him, " I never saw you look so handsome in 
 your life." He could have flung his arms around her 
 neck at the compliment. " And, law, ma ! what has 
 happened to Mr. Woolsey ? doesn't he look ten years 
 younger than yesterday ?" Mamma assented, and 
 Woolsey bowed gallantly, and the two gentlemen ex- 
 changed a nod of hearty friendship. 
 
 The day was delightful. Eglantine pranced, along 
 magnificently on his cantering arm-chair, with his hat 
 on one ear, his left hand on his side, and his head flung 
 over nis shoulder, and throwing under glances at Mor- 
 giana whenever the Emperor was in advance of the 
 Clarence. The Emperor pricked up his ears a little 
 uneasily passing the Ebenezer chapel in Richmond, 
 where the congregation were singing a hymn, but be- 
 yond this no accident occurred ; nor was Mr. Eglantine 
 in the least stiff or fatigued by the time the party 
 reached Richmond, where he arrived time enough to 
 give his steed into the charge of an hostler, and to pre- 
 sent his elbow to the ladies as they alighted from the 
 Clarence carriage. 
 
 What this jovial party ate for dinner at the Star 
 and Garter need not here be set down. If they did 
 not drink champao-no, I am very much mistaken ; 
 
98 men's wives. 
 
 and if they did, and found it good and cheap, I am 
 very much surprised. But they were as merry as any 
 four people in Christendom ; and between the bewilder- 
 ing attentions of the perfumer, and the manly courtesy 
 of the tailor, Morgiana very likely forgot the gallant 
 captain, or, at least, was very happy in his absence. 
 
 At eight o'clock they began to drive homewards. 
 " WonH you come into the carriage ?" said Morgiana to 
 Eglantine, with one of her tenderest looks ; " Dick can 
 ride the horse." But Archibald was too great a lover 
 of equestrian exercise. " I'm afraid to trust any body 
 on this horse," said he, with a knowing look ; and so 
 he pranced away by the side of the little carriage. The 
 moon was brilliant, and, with the aid of the gas-lamps, 
 illuminated the whole face of the country in a way in- 
 expressibly lively. 
 
 Presently, in the distance, the sweet and plaintive 
 notes of a bugle were heard, and the performer, with 
 great delicacy, executed a religious air. " Music, too ! 
 heavenly !" said Morgiana, throwing up her eyes to the 
 stars. The music came nearer and nearer, and the de- 
 light of the company was only more intense. The fly 
 was going at about four miles an hour, and the Em- 
 peror began cantering to time at the same rapid pace. 
 
 " This must be some gallantry of yours, Mr. Wool- 
 sey," said the romantic Morgiana, turning upon that 
 gentleman. " Mr. Eglantine treated us to the dinner, 
 and you have provided us with the music." 
 
 Now Woolsey had been a little, a very little, dissat- 
 isfied, during the course of the evening's entertainment, 
 by fancying that Eglantine, a much more voluble person 
 than himself, had obtained rather an undue share of the 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 99 
 
 ladies' favour ; and as lie himself paid half of the 
 expenses, he felt very much vexed to think that the per- 
 fumer should take all the credit of the business to him- 
 self. So when Miss Crump asked if he had provided 
 the music, he foolishly made an evasive reply to her 
 query, and rather wished her to imagine that he had 
 performed that piece of gallantry. " If it pleases you, 
 Miss Morgiana," said this artful Schneider, " what more 
 need any man ask ? wouldn't I have all Drury Lane 
 orchestra to please you ?" 
 
 The bugle had by this time arrived quite close to 
 the Clarence carriage, and if Morgiana had looked round 
 she might have seen whence the music came. Behind 
 her came slowly a drag, or private stage-coach, with 
 four horses. Two grooms with cockades and folded 
 arms were behind ; and driving on the box, a little gen- 
 tleman, with a blue, bird's-eye neckcloth, and a white 
 coat. A bugleman was by his side, who performed the 
 melodies which so delighted Miss Crump. He played 
 very gently and sweetly, and " God save the King " 
 trembled so softly out of the brazen orifice of his bugle, 
 that the Crumps, the tailor, arid Eglantine himself, who 
 was riding close by the carriage, were quite charmed 
 and subdued. 
 
 " Thank you, dear Mr. Woolsey," said the grateful 
 Morgiana ; which made Eglantine stare, and Woolsey 
 was just saying, " Really, upon my word, I've nothing 
 to do with it," when the man on the drag-box said to 
 the bugleman, " Now !" 
 
 The bugleman began the tune of — 
 
 " Heaven preserve our Emperor Fra-an-cis, 
 Rut tnm-ti-tnm-ti-titty-ti." 
 
100 men's wives. 
 
 At the sound, the Emperor reared himself (with a 
 roar from Mr. Eglantine), reared and beat the air with 
 his fore-paws ; Eglantine flung his arms round the 
 beast's neck, still he kept beating time with his fore- 
 paws. Mrs. Crump screamed ; Mr. Woolsey, Dick, the 
 Clarence coachman, Lord Vauxhall (for it was he), and 
 his lordship's two grooms, burst into a shout of laughter ; 
 Morgiana cries " Mercy ! mercy !" Eglantine yells 
 " Stop !"— " Wo !"— " O t" and a thousand ejaculations 
 of hideous terror ; until, at last, dow r n drops the Em- 
 peror stone dead in the middle of the road, as if carried 
 off by a cannon-ball. 
 
 Fancy the situation, ye callous souls who laugh at 
 the misery of humanity, fancy the situation of poor Eg- 
 lantine under the Emperor. He had fallen very easy, 
 the animal lay perfectly quiet, and the perfumer was to 
 all intents and purposes as dead as the animal. He had 
 not fainted, but he was immovable with terror ; he lay 
 in a puddle, and thought it was his own blood gushing 
 from him ; and he would have lain there until Monday 
 morning, if my Lord's grooms descending, had not 
 dragged him by the coat-collars from under the beast, 
 who still lay quiet. 
 
 " Play ' Charming Judy Callaghan,' will ye ?" says 
 Mr. Snaffle's man, the fly-driver ; on W'hich the bugler 
 performed that lively air, and up started the horse, and 
 the grooms, who w T ere rubbing Mr. Eglantine down 
 against a lamp-post, invited him to remount. 
 
 But his heart was too broken for that. The ladies 
 gladly made room for him in the Clarence. Dick 
 mounted Emperor and rode homewards. The drag, 
 too, drove away, playing, " Oh, dear, what can the mat- 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 101 
 
 ter be ?" and with a scowl of furious hate, Mr. Eglantine 
 sat and regarded his rival. His pantaloons were split, 
 and his coat torn up the back. 
 
 " Are you hurt much, dear Mr. Archibald ?" said 
 Morgiana, with unaffected compassion. 
 
 " N-not much," said the poor fellow, ready to burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " Mr. Woolsey," added the good-natured girl, 
 " how could you play such a trick V 
 
 " Upon my word," Woolsey began, intending to 
 plead innocence ; but the ludicrousness of the situation 
 was once more too much for him, and he burst out into 
 a roar of laughter. 
 
 " You ! you cowardly beast," howled out Eglantine, 
 now driven to fury, " you laugh at me, you miserable 
 cretur ! Take that, sir !" and he fell upon him with all 
 his might, and well-nigh throttled the tailor, and pum- 
 melling his eyes, his nose, his ears, with inconceivable 
 rapidity, wrenched, finally, his wig off his head, and 
 flung it into the road. 
 
 Morgiana saw that Woolsey had red hair. 
 ******** 
 
102 men's wives. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 IN WHICH THE HEROINE HAS A NUMBER MORE LOV- , 
 ERS, AND CUTS A VERY DASHING FIGURE IN THE 
 WORLD. 
 
 Two years have elapsed since the festival at Richmond, 
 which, begun so peaceably, ended in such general up- 
 roar. Morgiana never could be brought to pardon 
 Woolsey's red hair, nor to help laughing at Eglantine's 
 disasters, nor could the two gentlemen be reconciled to 
 one another. Woolsey, indeed, sent a challenge to the 
 perfumer to meet him with pistols, which the latter de- 
 clined, saying, justly, that tradesmen had no business 
 with such weapons : on this the tailor proposed to meet 
 him with coats off, and have it out like men in the 
 presence of their friends of the Kidney Club. The per- 
 fumer said he would be party to no such vulgar transac- 
 tion ; on which, Woolsey, exasperated, made an oath 
 that he would tweak the perfumer's nose so surety as 
 he ever entered the club-room, and thus one member of 
 the Kidneys was compelled to vacate his arm-chair. 
 
 Woolsey himself attended every meeting regularly, 
 but he did not evince that gayety and good-humour 
 which renders men's company agreeable in clubs. On 
 arriving, he would order the boy to " tell him when 
 that scoundrel Eglantine came," and, hanging up his 
 hat on a peg, would scowl round the room, and tuck 
 up his sleeves very high, and stretch, and shake his 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 103 
 
 fingers and wrists, as if getting them ready for that pull 
 of the nose which he intended to bestow upon his rival. 
 So prepared, he would sit down and smoke his pipe 
 quite silently, glaring at all, and jumping up, and hitch- 
 ing up his coat-sleeves, when any one entered the room. 
 
 The Kidneys did not lite this behaviour. Clinker 
 ceased to come. Bustard, the poulterer, ceased to come. 
 As for Snaffle, he also disappeared, for Woolsey wished 
 to make him answerable for the misbehaviour of Eglan- 
 tine, and proposed to him the duel which the latter had 
 declined. So Snaffle went. Presently they all went, 
 except the tailor and Trestle, who lived down the street, 
 and these two would sit and puff their tobacco, one on 
 each side of Crump, the landlord, as silent as Indian 
 chiefs in a wigwam. There grew to be more and more 
 room for poor old Crump in his chair and in his 
 clothes ; the Kidneys were gone, and why should he 
 remain ? One Saturday he did not come down to pre- 
 side at the club (as he still fondly called it), and the 
 Saturday following Trestle had made a coffin for him ; 
 and Woolsey, with the undertaker by his side, followed 
 to the grave the father of the Kidneys. 
 
 Mrs. Crump was now alone in the world. " How 
 alone ?" says some innocent and respected reader. Ah ! 
 iny dear sir, do you know so little of human nature as 
 not to be aware that, one week after the Richmond 
 affair, Morgiana married Captain Walker? That did 
 she privately, of course ; and, after the ceremony, 
 came tripping back to her parents, as young people do 
 in plays, and said, "Forgive me, dear pa and ma, I'm 
 married, and here is my husband, the captain !" Papa 
 and mamma did forgive her, as why shouldn't they ? 
 
104 men's wives. 
 
 and papa paid over her fortune to her, which she carried 
 home delighted to the captain. This happened several 
 months before the demise of old Crump ; and Mrs. Cap- 
 tain Walker was on the Continent with her Howard 
 when that melancholy event took place, hence Mrs. 
 Crump's loneliness and unprotected condition. Morgi- 
 ana had not latterly seen much of the old people ; how 
 could she, moving in her exalted sphere, receive at her 
 genteel, new residence in the Edgeware Road, the old 
 publican and his wife ? 
 
 Being, then, alone in the world, Mrs. Crump could 
 not abear, she said, to live in the house where she had 
 been so respected and happy : so she sold the good-will 
 of the Sun, and, with the money arising from this sale 
 and her own private fortune, being able to muster some 
 sixty pounds per annum, retired to the neighbourhood 
 of her dear old Sadlers' Wells, where she boarded with 
 one of Mrs. Serle's forty pupils. Her heart was broken, 
 she said ; but nevertheless, about nine months after Mr. 
 Crump's death, the wallflowers, nasturtiums, polyan- 
 thuses, and convolvuluses began to blossom under her 
 bonnet as usual ; in a year she was dressed quite as fine 
 as ever, and now never missed the Wells, or some other 
 place of entertainment, one single night, but was as 
 regular as the box-keeper. Nay, she was a buxom 
 widow still, and an old flame of hers, Fisk, so celebrated 
 as pantaloon in Grimaldi's time, but now doing the 
 " heavy fathers " at the Wells, proposed to her to ex- 
 change her name for his. 
 
 But this proposal the worthy widow declined alto- 
 gether. To say truth, she was exceedingly proud of 
 her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker. They did not see 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 105 
 
 each other much at first ; but every now and then Mrs. 
 Crump would pay her visit to the folks in Connaught 
 Square; and on the days when "the captain's" lady 
 called in the City Road, there was not a single official 
 at the " Wells," from the first tragedian down to the 
 call-boy, who was not made aware of the fact. 
 
 It has been said that Morgiana carried home her 
 fortune in her own reticule, and smiling placed the 
 money in her husband's lap ; and hence the reader may 
 imagine, who knows Mr. Walker to be an extremely 
 selfish fellow, that a great sum of anger must have 
 taken place, and many coarse oaths and epithets of 
 abuse must have come from him, when he found that 
 five hundred pounds was all that his wife had, although 
 he had expected five thousand with her. But, to say 
 the truth, Walker was at this time almost in love with 
 his handsome, rosy, good-humoured, simple wife. They 
 had made a fortnight's tour, during which they had 
 been exceedingly happy ; and there was something so 
 frank and touching in the way in which the kind crea- 
 ture flung her all into his lap, saluting him with a hearty 
 embrace at the same time, and wishing that it were a 
 thousand billion, billion times more, so that her darling 
 Howard might enjoy it, that the man would have 
 been a ruffian indeed could he have found it in his heart 
 to be angry with her ; and so he kissed her in return, 
 and patted her on the shining ringlets, and then counted 
 over the notes with rather a disconsolate air, and ended 
 by locking them up in his portfolio. In fact, she had 
 never deceived him ; Eglantine had, and he in return 
 had out-tricked Eglantine ; and so warm were his affec- 
 tions for Morgiana at this time, that, upon my word 
 5* 
 
106 men's wives. 
 
 and honour, I don't think he repented of his bargain. 
 Besides, five hundred pounds in crisp bank-notes was a 
 sum of money such as the captain was not in the habit 
 of handling every day ; a dashing, sanguine fellow, he 
 thought there was no end to it, and already thought of 
 a dozen ways by which it should increase and multiply 
 into a plumb. Woe is me ! Has not many a simple 
 soul examined five new hundred-pound notes in this 
 way, and calculated their powers of duration and mul- 
 tiplication ! 
 
 This subject, however, is too painful to be dwelt on. 
 Let us hear what Walker did with his money. Why, 
 he furnished the house in the Edgeware Road before 
 mentioned, he ordered a handsome service of plate, he 
 sported a phaeton and two ponies, he kept a couple 
 of smart maids and a groom foot-boy, — in fact, he 
 mounted just such a neat, unpretending, gentlemanlike 
 establishment as becomes a respectable young couple 
 on their outset in life. " I've sown my wild oats," he 
 would say to his acquaintances ; " a few years since, 
 perhaps, I would have longed to cut a dash, but now 
 prudence is the word ; and I've settled every farthing 
 of Mrs. Walker's fifteen thousand on herself." And the 
 best proof that the world had confidence in him is the 
 fact, that for the articles of plate, equipage, and furniture, 
 which have been mentioned as being in his possession, 
 he did not pay one single shilling ; and so prudent wns 
 he, that but for turnpikes, postage-stamps, and king's 
 taxes, he hardly had occasion to change a five-pound 
 note of his wife's fortune. 
 
 To tell the truth, Mr. Walker had determined to 
 make his fortune. And what is easier in London ? Is 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 107 
 
 not the share-market open to all ? Do not Spanish and 
 Columbian bonds rise and fall ? For what are compa- 
 nies invented but to place thousands in the pockets of 
 shareholders and directors ? Into these commercial 
 pursuits the gallant captain now plunged witji great 
 energy, and made some brilliant hits at first starting, 
 and bought and sold so opportunely, that his name 
 began to rise in the city as a capitalist, and might be 
 seen in the printed list of directors of many excellent 
 and philanthropic schemes, of which there is never any 
 lack in London. Business to the amount of thousands 
 was done at his agency ; shares of vast value were 
 bought and sold under his management. How poor 
 Mr. Eglantine used to hate him and envy him, as from 
 the door of his emporium (the firm was Eglantine and 
 Mossrose now) he saw the captain daily arrive in his 
 pony -phaeton, and heard of the start he had taken in life. 
 
 The only regret Mrs. Walker had was that she did 
 not enjoy enough of her husband's society. His business 
 called him away all day ; his business, too, obliged him 
 to leave her of evenings very frequently, but while (al- 
 ways in pursuit of business) he was dining with his 
 great friends at the club, and drinking claret and cham- 
 pagne to the same end. 
 
 She was a perfectly good-natured and simple soul, 
 and never made him a single reproach ; but when he 
 could pass an evening at home with her she was de- 
 lighted, and when he could drive with her in the Park 
 she was happy for a week after. On these occasions, 
 and in the fulness of her heart, she would drive to her 
 mother and tell her story. u Howard drove with me in 
 the Park yesterday, mamma;" "Howard has promised 
 
108 men's wives. 
 
 to take Hie to the Opera," and so forth. And that even- 
 ing the manager, Mr. Gawler, the first tragedian, Mrs. 
 Serle and her forty pupils, all the box-keepers, bonnet- 
 women — nay, the ginger-beer girls themselves at the 
 Wells, knew that Captain and Mrs. Walker were at 
 Kensington Gardens, or were to have the Marchioness 
 of Billingsgate's box at the Opera. One night — oh ! 
 joy of joys ! — Mrs. Captain Walker appeared in a pri- 
 vate box at the Wells. That's she with the black ring- 
 lets and Cashmere shawl, smelling-bottle, black velvet 
 gown, and bird of paradise in her hat. Goodness gra- 
 cious ! how they all acted at her, Gawler and all, and 
 how happy Mrs. Crump was ! She kissed her daughter 
 between all the acts, she nodded to all her friends on 
 the stage, in the slips, or in the real water ; she intro- 
 duced her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker, to the box- 
 opener, and Melvii Delamere (the first comic), Conter- 
 field (the tyrant), and Jonesini (the celebrated Font- 
 arabian statuesque), were all on the steps, and shouted 
 for Mrs. Captain Walker's carriage, and waved their 
 hats, and bowed as the little pony-phaeton drove away. 
 Walker, in his moustachios, had come in at the end of 
 the play, and was not a little gratified by the compli- 
 ments paid to himself and lady. 
 
 Among the other articles of luxury with which the 
 captain furnished his house we must not omit to mention 
 an extremely grand piano, which occupied four-fifths of 
 Mrs. Walker's little back drawing-room, and at which 
 she was in the habit of practising continually. All day 
 and all night during Walker's absences (and these oc- 
 curred all night and all day) you might hear — the 
 whole street might hear — the voice of the lady at No. 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 109 
 
 23 gurgling, and shaking, and quavering, as ladies do 
 when they practise. The street did not approve of the 
 continuance of the noise, but neighbours are difficult to 
 please, and what would Morgiana have had to do if she 
 had ceased to sing ? It would be hard to lock a black- 
 bird in a cage and prevent him from singing too. And 
 so Walker's blackbird, in the snug little cage in the 
 Edgeware Road, sung and was not unhappy. 
 
 After the pair had been married for about a year, 
 the omnibus that passes both by Mrs. Crump's house, 
 near the Wells, and by Mrs. Walker's street off the 
 Edgeware Road, brought up the former-named lady al- 
 most every day to her daughter. She came when the 
 captain had gone to his business ; she staid to a two 
 o'clock dinner with Morgiana, she drove with her in 
 the pony-carriage round the Park, but she never stop- 
 ped later than six. Had she not to go to the play at 
 seven ? And, besides, the captain might come home 
 with some of his great friends, and he always swore and 
 grumbled much if he found his mother-in-law on the 
 premises. As for Morgiana, she was one of those 
 women who encourage despotism in husbands. What 
 the husband says must be right, because he says it ; 
 what he orders must be obeyed tremblingly. Mrs. 
 Walker gave up her entire reason to her lord. Why 
 was it ? Before marriage she had been an independent 
 little person ; she had far more brains than her Howard. 
 I think it must have been his moustachios that fright- 
 ened her and caused in her this humility. 
 
 Selfish husbands have this advantage in maintaining 
 with easy-minded wives a rigid and inflexible behaviour, 
 \ iz. that, if they do by any chance grant a little favour, 
 
110 men's wives. 
 
 the ladies receive it with such transports of gratitude as 
 they would never think of showing to a lord and mas- 
 ter who was accustomed to give them every thing they 
 asked for ; and hence, when Captain Walker signified 
 his assent to his wife's prayer that she should take a 
 singing-master, she thought his generosity almost divine, 
 and fell upon her mamma's neck, when that lady came 
 the next day, and said what a dear adorable angel her 
 Howard was, and what ought she not to do for a man 
 who had taken her from her humble situation, and 
 raised her to be what she was ! What she was, poor 
 soul ! She was the wife of a swindling parvenu gentle- 
 man. She received visits from six ladfes of her hus- 
 band's acquaintances, the two attorneys' ladies, his bill- 
 broker's lady, and one or two more, of whose characters 
 we had best, if you please, say nothing ; and she thought 
 it an honour to be so distinguished, as if Walker had 
 been a Lord Exeter to marry a humble maiden, or a 
 noble prince to fall in love with a humble Cinderella, 
 or a majestic Jove to come down from heaven and woo 
 a Semele. Look through the world, respectable reader, 
 and among your honourable acquaintances, and say if 
 this sort of faith in women is not very frequent ? They 
 will believe in their husbands, whatever the latter do. 
 Let John be dull, ugly, vulgar, and a humbug, his 
 Mary Anne never finds it out ; let him tell his stories 
 ever so many times, there is she always ready with her 
 kind smile ; let him be stingy, she says he is prudent; 
 let him quarrel with his best friend, she says he is al- 
 ways in the right ; let him be prodigal, she says he is 
 generous, and that his health requires enjoyment; let 
 him be idle, he must have relaxation ; and she will 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. Ill 
 
 pinch herself and her household that he may have a 
 guinea for his club. Yes ; and every morning, as she 
 wakes and looks at the bristly, coarse, mottled, red- 
 nosed face, snorting under the night-cap on the pillow 
 by her side — every morning, I say, she blesses that dull, 
 ugly countenance, and the dull ugly soul reposing 
 there, and thinks both are something divine. I want 
 to know how it is that women do not find out their 
 husbands to be humbugs ? Nature has so provided it, 
 and thanks to her. When last year they were acting 
 the Midsummer NigM s Dream, and all the boxes began 
 to war with great coarse heehaws at Titania hugging 
 Bottom's long ears — to me, considering these things, 
 it seemed that there were a hundred other male brutes 
 squatted round about, and treated just as reasonably as 
 Bottom was. Their Titanias lulled them to sleep in 
 their laps, summoned a hundred smiling, delicate, house- 
 hold fairies to tickle their gross intellects and minister 
 to their vulgar pleasures ; and (as the above remarks are 
 only supposed to apply to honest women loving their 
 own lawful spouses) a mercy it is that no wicked Puck 
 fa in the way to open their eyes, and point out their 
 folly. Cuibono? let them live on in their deceit ; I 
 know two lovely ladies who will read this, and will say 
 ft jy just very likely, and not see in the least that it had 
 been written regarding them. 
 
 Another point of sentiment, and one curious to 
 speculate on. Have you not remarked the immense 
 works of art that women get through ? The worsted- 
 work sofas, the counterpanes patched or knitted (but 
 these are among the old-fashioned in the country), the 
 bushels of pincushions, the albums they laboriously fill, 
 
112 men's wives. 
 
 the tremendous pieces of music they practise, the thou- 
 sand other fiddle-faddles which occupy the attention of 
 the dear souls — nay, have we not seen them seated 
 of evenings in a squad or company, Louisa employed 
 at the worsted- work before mentioned, Eliza at the pin- 
 cushions, Amelia at card-racks or filagree matches, and, 
 in the midst, Theodosia, with one of the candles, read- 
 ing out a novel aloud ? Ah ! my dear sir, mortal crea- 
 tures must be very hard put to it for amusement, be 
 sure of that, when they are forced to gather together in 
 a company and hear novels read aloud ! They only do 
 it because they can't help it, depend upon it ; it is a 
 sad life, a poor pastime. Mr. Dickens, in his American 
 book, tells of the prisoners at the silent prison, how 
 they had ornamented their rooms, some of them with 
 a frightful prettiness and elaboration. Women's fancy- 
 work is of this sort often — only prison work, done be- 
 cause there was no other exercising-ground for their 
 poor little thoughts and fingers ; and hence these won- 
 derful pincushions are executed, these counterpanes 
 woven, these sonatas learned. By every thing senti- 
 mental, when I see two kind, innocent, fresh-cheeked 
 young women go to a piano and sit down opposite to it 
 upon two chairs piled with more or less music-books 
 (according to their convenience), and, so seated, go 
 through a set of double-barrelled variations upon this 
 tune or that by Herz or Kalkbrenner, — I say, far from 
 receiving any satisfaction at the noise made by the per- 
 formance, my too susceptible heart is given up entirely 
 to bleeding for the performers. What hours, and weeks, 
 nay, preparatory years of study, has that infernal jingle 
 cost them ! What sums has papa paid, what scoldings 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 113 
 
 has mamma administered (" Lady Bullblock does not 
 play herself," Sir Thomas says, " but she has naturally 
 the finest ear for music ever known !") ; what evidences 
 of slavery, in a word, are there ! It is the condition of 
 the young lady's existence. She breakfasts at eight, 
 she does MagnalVs Questions with the governess till 
 ten, she practises till one, she walks in the square with 
 bars round her till two, then she practises again, then 
 she sows or hems, or reads French, or Hume's History, 
 then she comes down to play to papa, because he likes 
 music whilst he is asleep after dinner, and then it is 
 bed-tirne, and the morrow is another day with what 
 are called the same " duties " to be gone through. A 
 friend of mine went to call at a nobleman's house the 
 other day, and one of the young ladies of the house 
 came into the room with a tray on her head, this tray 
 was to give Lady Maria a graceful carriage. Mon Dieu ! 
 and who knows but at that moment Lady Bell was at 
 work with a pair of her dumb namesakes, and Lady 
 Sophy lying flat on a stretching-board ? I could write 
 whole articles on this theme, but peace! we are keep- 
 ing Mrs. Walker waiting all the while. 
 
 Well, then, if the above disquisitions have any thing 
 to do with the story, as no doubt they have, I wish it 
 to be understood that, during her husband's absence 
 and her own solitary confinement, Mrs. Howard Walker 
 bestowed a prodigious quantity of her time and energy 
 on the cultivation of her musical talent, and having, as 
 before stated, a very fine loud voice, speedily attained 
 no ordinary skill in the use of it. She first had for 
 teacher little Podmore, the fat chorus-master at the 
 Wells, and who had taught her mother the " Tink a 
 
114 men's wives. 
 
 tink" song which has been such a favourite since it 
 appeared in this Magazine. He grounded her well, 
 and bade her eschew the singing of all those Eagle 
 Tavern ballads in which her heart formerly delighted, 
 and when he had brought her to a certain point of 
 skill, the honest little chorus-master said she should have 
 a still better instructor, and wrote a note to Captain 
 Walker (inclosing his own little account), speaking in 
 terms of the most flattering encomium of his lady's pro- 
 gress, and recommending that she should take lessons 
 of the celebrated Baroski. Captain Walker dismissed 
 Podmore then, and engRged Signor Baroski, at a vast 
 expense, as he did not fail to tell his wife. In fact, he 
 owed Baroski no less than a hundred-and-twenty 
 guineas when he came to file his Sched * * * But we 
 are advancing matters. 
 
 Little Baroski is the author of the opera of Elioga- 
 balo, of the oratorio of Purgatorio, which made such an 
 immense sensation, of songs and ballet-musics innu- 
 merable. He is a German by birth, and shows such 
 an outrageous partiality for pork and sausages, and at- 
 tends at church so constantly, that I am sure there can- 
 not be any foundation in the story that he is a member 
 of the ancient religion. He is a fat little man, with a 
 hooked nose and jetty whiskers, and coal-black shining 
 eyes, and plenty of rings and jewels on his fingers and 
 about his person, and a very considerable portion of his 
 shirt-sleeves turned over his coat to take the air. His 
 great hands (which can sprawl over half a piano, and 
 produce those effects on the instrument for which he is 
 celebrated) are encased in lemon-coloured kids, new, or 
 cleaned daily. Parenthetically, let us ask why so many 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 115 
 
 men with coarse red wrists and big hands persist in the 
 white kid glove and wristband system ? Baroski's gloves 
 alone must cost him a little fortune ; only, he says with 
 a leer, when asked the question, " Get along vid you ; 
 don't you know dere is a glovers that lets me have dem 
 very sheap V He rides in the Park ; has splendid 
 lodgings in Dover Street ; and is a member of the lie- 
 gent Club, where he is a great source of amusement to 
 the members, to whom he tells astonishing stories of 
 his successes with the ladies, and for whom he has al- 
 ways play and opera tickets in store. His eye glistens 
 and his little heart beats when a lord speaks to him ; 
 and he has been known to spend large sums of money 
 in giving treats to young sprigs of fashion at Richmond 
 and elsewhere. " In my bolyticks," he says, " I am 
 consarevatiff to de bag-bone." In fine, he is a puppy, 
 and withal a man of considerable genius in his profes- 
 sion. 
 
 This gentleman then undertook to complete the 
 musical education of Mrs. Walker. He expresses him- 
 self at once " enshanted vid her gababilities," found that 
 the extent of her voice w 7 as " brodigious," and guaran- 
 teed that she should become a first-rate singer. The 
 pupil was apt, the master was exceedingly skilful ; and, 
 accordingly, Mrs. Walker's progress was very remarka- 
 ble ; although, for her part, honest Mrs. Crump, who 
 used to attend her daughter's lessons, would grumble 
 not a little at the new system, and the endles exercises 
 which she, Morgiana, was made to go through. It was 
 very different in her time, she said. Incledon knew 
 no music, and who could sing so \7ell now ? Give her 
 a good English ballad ; it was a thousand times sweeter 
 than your Figaros and Semiramides. 
 
116 men's wives. 
 
 In spite of these objections, however, and with amaz- 
 ing perseverance and cheerfulness, Mrs. Walker pursues 
 the method of study pointed out to her by her master. 
 As soon as her husband went to the city in the morn- 
 ing her operations began ; if he remained away at din- 
 ner her labours still continued ; nor is it necessary for 
 me to particularize her course of study, nor, indeed, 
 possible, for, between ourselves, none of the male Fitz- 
 Boodles ever could sing a note, and the jargon of scales 
 and solfeggios is quite unknown to me. But as no 
 man can have seen persons addicted to music without 
 remarking the prodigious energies they display in the 
 pursuit, as there is no father of daughters, however ig- 
 norant, but is aware of the piano-rattling and voice-ex- 
 ercising which goes on in his house from morning til] 
 night, so let all fancy, without further inquiry, how the 
 heroine of this our story was at this stage of her exist- 
 ence occupied. 
 
 Walker was delighted with her progress, and did 
 every thing but pay Baroski, her instructor. We know 
 why he didn't pay. It was his nature not to pay bills, 
 except on extreme compulsion ; but why did not Baroski 
 employ that extreme compulsion ? Because, if he had 
 received his money, he would have lost his pupil, and 
 because he loved his pupil more than money. Bather 
 than lose her, he would have given her a guinea as well 
 as her cachet He would sometimes disappoint a great 
 personage, but he never missed his attendance on her ; 
 and the truth must out, that he was in love with her, 
 as Woolsey and Eglantine had been before. 
 
 " By de immortel Chofe !" he would say, " dat letell 
 ding sents me mad vid her big ice ! But only vait avile, 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 11 1 
 
 in six veeks I can bring any voman in England on her 
 knees to me ; and you shall see vat I vill do vid my 
 Morgiana." He attended her for six weeks punctually, 
 and yet Morgiana was never brought down on her 
 knees ; he exhausted his best stock of " gomblimends," 
 and she never seemed disposed to receive them with 
 any thing but laughter. And, as a matter of course, 
 he only grew more infatuated with the lovely creature 
 who was so provokingly good-humoured and so laugh- 
 ingly cruel. 
 
 Benjamin Baroski was one of the chief ornaments of 
 the musical profession in London ; he charged a guinea 
 for a lesson of three-quarters of an hour abroad, and he 
 had, furthermore, a school at his own residence, where 
 pupils assembled in considerable numbers, and of that 
 curious mixed kind which those may see who frequent 
 these places of instruction. There were very innocent 
 young ladies with their mammas, who would hurry them 
 off trembling to the farther corner of the room when 
 certain doubtful professional characters made their ap- 
 pearance. There was Miss Grigg, who sung at the 
 Foundling, and Mr. Johnson, who sung at the Eagle 
 Tavern, and Madame Fioravanti (a very doubtful char- 
 acter), who sung nowhere, but was always coming out 
 at the Italian Opera. There was Lumley Limpiter 
 (Lord Tweedledale's son) one of the most accomplished 
 tenors in town, and whom, we have heard, sings with 
 the professionals at a hundred concerts ; and with him, 
 too, was Captain Guzzard of the Guards, with his tre- 
 mendous bass voice, which all the world declared to 
 be as fine as Porto's, and who shared the applauses of 
 Baroski's school, with Mr. Bulger, the dentist of Snck- 
 
118 men's wives. 
 
 ville Street, who neglected his ivory and gold plates for 
 his voice, as every unfortunate individual will do who 
 is bitten by the music mania. Then among the ladies 
 there were a half-score of dubious pale governesses 
 and professionals with turned frocks and lank damp 
 bandeaux of hair under shabby little bonnets ; luckless 
 creatures these, who were parting with their poor little 
 store of half-guineas to be enabled to say they were 
 pupils of Signor Baroski, and so get pupils of their own 
 among the British youths, or employment in the cho- 
 ruses of the theatres. 
 
 The prima donna of the little company was Amelia 
 Larkins, Baroski's own articled pupil, on whose future 
 reputation the eminent master staked his own, whose 
 profits he was to share, and whom he had farmed, to 
 this end, from her father, a most respectable sheriff's 
 officer's assistant, and now, by his daughter's exertions, 
 a considerable capitalist. Amelia is blonde and blue- 
 eyed, her complexion is as bright as snow, her ringlets of 
 
 the colour of straw, her figure but why describe her 
 
 figure ? Has not all the world seen her at the theatres 
 royal and in America under the name of Miss Legonier ? 
 
 Until Mrs. Walker arrived, Miss Larkins was the 
 undisputed princess of the Baroski company — the Semi- 
 ramide, the Rosina, the Tamina, the Donna Anna. 
 Baroski vaunted her every where as the great rising 
 genius of the day, bade Catalani look to her laurels, 
 and questioned whether Miss Stephens could sing a 
 ballad like his pupil. Mrs. Howard Walker arrived, 
 and created, on the first occasion, no small sensation. 
 She improved, and the little society became speedily 
 divided into Walkerites and Larkinsians ; and between 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 119 
 
 these two ladies (as, indeed, between Guzzard and Bul- 
 ger before mentioned, between Miss Brunck and Miss 
 Horsman, the two contraltos, and between the chorus- 
 singers, after their kind) a great rivalry arose. Larkins 
 was certainly the better singer ; but could her straw- 
 coloured curls and dumpy, high-shouldered figure bear 
 any comparison with the jetty ringlets and stately form 
 of Morgiana ? Did not Mrs. Walker, too, come to the 
 music-lesson in her carriage, and with a black velvet 
 gowm and Cashmere shawl, while poor Larkins meekly 
 stepped from Bell Yard, Temple Bar, in an old print 
 gown and clogs, which she left in the hall ? " Larkins 
 sing !" said Mrs. Crump, sarcastically. " I'm sure she 
 ouo-ht ; her mouth's bio* enough to sin a; a duet." Poor 
 Larkins had no one to make epigrams in her behoof; 
 her mother was at home tending the younger ones, her 
 father abroad following the studies of his profession, 
 she had but one protector, as she thought, and that one 
 was Baroski. Mrs. Crump did not fail to tell Lumley 
 Limpiter of her own former triumphs, and to sing him 
 " Tink-a-tink," which we have previously heard, and to 
 state how in former days she had been called the Ra- 
 venswing. And Lumley, on this hint, made a poem, 
 in which he compared Morgiana's hair to the plumage 
 of the Ravenswing, and Larkinissa's to that of the cana- 
 ry ; by which tw r o names the ladies began soon to be 
 known in the school 
 
 Ere long, the flight of the Ravenswing became evi- 
 dently stronger, whereas that of the canary was seen 
 evidently to droop. When Morgiana sung, all the room 
 would cry " bravo ;" when Amelia performed, scarce a 
 hand was raised for applause of her, except Morgiana's 
 
120 men's wives. 
 
 own, and that the Larkinses thought was lifted in odious 
 triumph rather than in sympathy, for Miss L. was of 
 an envious turn, and little understood the generosity of 
 her rival. 
 
 At last, one day, the crowning victory of the Ra- 
 venswing came. In the trio of Baroski's own opera of 
 Mioc/abalo, " Rosy lips and rosy wine," Miss Larkins, 
 who was evidently unwell, was taking the part of the 
 English captive, which she had sung in public concerts 
 before royal dukes, and with considerable applause, 
 and, from reason, performed it so ill, that Baroski, slap- 
 ping down the music on the piano in a fury, cried, 
 " Mrs. Howard Walker, as Miss Larkins cannot sing to- 
 day, will you favour us by taking the part of Boadi- 
 cetta V Mrs. Walker got up smilingly to obey — the 
 triumph was too great to be withstood ; and, as she 
 advanced to the piano, Miss Larkins looked wildly at 
 her, and stood silent for awhile, and, at last, shrieked 
 out " Benjamin /" in a tone of extreme agony, and 
 dropped fainting down on the ground. Benjamin 
 looked extremely red, it must be confessed, at being 
 thus called by what we shall denominate his Christian 
 name, and Limpiter looked round at Guzzard, and Miss 
 Brunck nudged Miss Horsuian, and the lesson con- 
 cluded rather abruptly that day, for Miss Larkins was 
 carried off to the next room, laid on a couch, and 
 sprinkled with water. 
 
 " Good-natured Morgiana insisted that her mother 
 should take Miss Larkins to Bell Yard in her carriage, 
 and went herself home on foot ; but I don't know that 
 this piece of kindness prevented Larkins from hating 
 her. I should doubt if it did. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 121 
 
 Hearing so much of his wife's skill as a singer, the 
 astute Captain Walker determined to take advantage of 
 it for the purpose of increasing his " connexion." He had 
 Lumley Limpiter at his house before long, which was, 
 indeed, no great matter, for honest Lum would go any- 
 where for a good dinner, and an opportunity to show 
 off his voice afterwards, and Lumley was begged to 
 bring any more clerks in the Treasury of his acquaint- 
 ance ; Captain Guzzard was invited, and any officers of 
 the Guards whom he might choose to bring ; Bulger 
 received occasional cards ; — in a word, and after a short 
 time, Mrs. Howard Walker's musical parties began to 
 be considerably suivies. Her husband had the satis- 
 faction to see his rooms filled by many great personages ; 
 and once or twice in return (indeed, whenever she was 
 wanted, or when people could not afford to hire the 
 first singers) she was asked to parties elsewhere, and 
 treated with that killing civility which our English 
 aristocracy knows how to bestow on artists. Clever 
 and wise aristocracy ! It is sweet to mark your ways, 
 and study your commerce with inferior men. 
 
 I was just going to commence a tirade regarding 
 the aristocracy here, and to rage against that cool as- 
 sumption of superiority which distinguishes their lord- 
 ships' commerce with artists of all sorts, that politeness 
 which, if it condescend to receive artists at all, takes 
 care to have them altogether, so that there can be no 
 mistake about their rank — that august patronage of 
 art which rewards it with a silly flourish of knighthood, 
 to be sure, but takes care to exclude it from any con- 
 tact with its betters in society — I was, I say, just going 
 to commence a tirade against the aristocracy far ex- 
 6 
 
122 men's wives. 
 
 eluding artists from their company, and to be extremely 
 satirical upon them, for instance, for not receiving my 
 friend Morgiana, when it suddenly came into my head 
 to ask, was Mrs. Walker fit to move in the best society ? 
 — to which query it must humbly be replied that she 
 was not. Her education was not such as to make her 
 quite the equal of Baker Street. She was a kind, 
 honest, and clever creature ; but, it must be confessed, 
 not refined. Wherever she went she had, if not the 
 finest, at any rate the most showy gown in the room ; 
 her ornaments were the biggest ; her hats, togues, 
 berets, marabouts, and other fallals, always the most 
 conspicuous. She drops " h's" here and there. I have 
 seen her eat peas with a knife (and Walker, scowling 
 on the opposite side of the table, striving in vain to 
 catch her eye) ; and I shall never forget Lady Smig- 
 mag's horror when she asked for porter at dinner, and 
 began to drink it out of the pewter-pot. It was a fine 
 sight. She lifted up the tankard with one of the finest 
 arms, covered with the biggest bracelets ever seen ; and 
 had a bird-of-paradise on her head, that curled round 
 the pewter-disk of the pot as she raised it, like a halo. 
 These peculiarities she had, and has still. She is best 
 away from the genteel world, that is the fact. When 
 she says that " The weather is so 'ot that it is quite de- 
 biliating ;" when she laughs, when she hits her neigh- 
 bour at dinner on the side of the waistcoat (as she will 
 if he should say any thing that amuses her), she does 
 what is perfectly natural and unaffected on her part, 
 but what is not customarily done among polite persons. 
 Who can sneer at her odd manners and her vanity, but 
 don't know the kindness, honesty, and simplicity, which 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 123 
 
 distinguish her ? This point being admitted, it follows, 
 of course, that the tirade against the aristocracy would, 
 in the present instance, be out of place — so it shall be 
 reserved for some other occasion. 
 
 The Ravenswing was a person admirably disposed 
 by nature to be happy. She had a disposition so 
 kindly that any small attention would satisfy it ; was 
 pleased when alone ; was delighted in a crowd ; was 
 charmed with a joke, however old ; was always ready 
 to laugh, to sing, to dance, or to be merry ; was so ten- 
 der-hearted that the smallest ballad would make her cry, 
 and hence was supposed, by many persons, to be ex- 
 tremely affected, and by almost all, to be a downright 
 coquette. Several competitors for her favour presented 
 themselves besides Baroski, young dandies used to can- 
 ter round her phaeton in the park, and might be seen 
 haunting her doors in the mornings. The fashionable 
 artist of the day made a drawing of her, which was 
 engraved and sold in the shops ; a copy of it was 
 printed in a song, " Black-eyed Maiden of Araby," the 
 words by Desmond Mulligen, Esq., the music composed 
 and dedicated to Mrs. Howard Walker, by her most 
 faithful and obliged servant, Benjamin Baroski, and at 
 night her Opera-box was full. Her Opera-box ? Yes, 
 the heiress of the Bootjack actually had an Opera-box, 
 and some of the most fashionable manhood of London 
 attended it. 
 
 Now, in fact, was the time of her greatest pros- 
 perity ; and her husband, gathering these fashionable 
 characters about him, extended his " agency" consid- 
 erably, and began to thank his stars that he had mar- 
 ried a woman who was as good as a fortune to him. 
 
124 men's wives. 
 
 In extending his agency, however, Mr. Walker in- 
 creased his expenses proportionally, and multiplied his 
 debts accordingly. More furniture and more plate, 
 more wines and more dinner-parties, became necessary ; 
 the little pony phaeton was exchanged for a brougham 
 of evenings ; and we may fancy our old friend Mr. Eg- 
 lantine's rage and disgust, as he looked up from the pit 
 of the Opera, to see Mrs. Walker surrounded by what 
 he called " the swell young nobs " about London, bow- 
 ing to my lord, and laughing with his grace, and led to 
 her carriage by Sir John. 
 
 The Ravenswing's position at this period was rather 
 an exceptionable one. She was an honest woman, 
 visited by that peculiar class of our aristocracy who 
 chiefly associate with ladies who are not honest. She 
 laughed with all, but she encouraged none. Old Crump 
 was constantly at her side now when she appeared in 
 public, the most watchful of mammas, always awake at 
 the Opera, though she seemed to be always asleep ; but 
 no dandy debauchee could deceive her vigilance, and 
 for this reason, Walker, who disliked her, as every man 
 naturally will, must, and should dislike his mother-in- 
 law, was contented to surfer her in his house to act as 
 a chaperon to Morgiana. 
 
 None of the young dandies ever got admission of 
 mornings to the little mansion in the Edgeware Eoad ; 
 the blinds were always down, and though you might 
 hear Morgi ana's voice half across the Park as she was 
 practising. Yes ! the youthful hall-porter, in the sugar- 
 loaf buttons, was instructed to deny her, and always 
 declared that his mistress was gone out, with the most 
 admirable assurance. 
 
THE HAVEN SWING. 125 
 
 After some two years of her life of splendour, there 
 were, to be sure, a good number of morning visitors 
 who came with single knocks, and asked for Captain 
 Walker, but these were no more admitted than the 
 dandies aforesaid, and were referred, generally, to the 
 captain's office, whither they went or not at their con- 
 venience. The only man who obtained admission into 
 the house was Baroski, whose cab transported him 
 thrice a week to the neighbourhood of Con naught 
 Square, and who obtained ready entrance in his profes- 
 sional capacity. 
 
 But even then, and much to the wicked little music- 
 master's disappointment, the dragon Crump was always 
 at the piano with her endless worsted work, or else read- 
 ing her unfailing Sunday Times ; and Baroski could only 
 employ "de langvitch of de ice," as he called it, with his 
 fair pupil, who used to mimic his manner of rolling his 
 eyes about afterwards, and perform " Baroski in love," 
 for the amusement of her husband and her mamma. 
 The former had his reasons for overlooking the atten- 
 tions of the little music-master ; and as for the latter, 
 had she not been on the stage, and had not many hun- 
 dreds of persons, in jest or earnest, made love to her? 
 "What else can a pretty woman expect, who is much 
 before the public ? And so the worthy mother coun- 
 selled her daughter to bear these attentions with good 
 humour, rather than to make them a subject of perpetual 
 alarm and quarrel. 
 
 Baroski, then, was allowed to go on being in love, 
 and was never in the least disturbed in his passion ; 
 and, if he was not successful, at least the little wretch 
 could have the pleasure of hinting that he was, and 
 
126 
 
 looking particularly roguish when the Ravenswing was 
 named, and assuring his friends at the club, that " upon 
 his vort dere vas no trut in dat rebort" 
 
 At last one day it happened that Mrs. Crump did 
 not arrive in time for her daughter's lesson (perhaps it 
 rained, and the omnibus was full — a smaller circun> 
 stance than that has changed a whole life ere now) — 
 Mrs. Crump did not arrive, and Baroski did, and Mor- 
 giana, seeing no great harm, sat down to her lesson as 
 usual, and in the midst of it down went the music-mas- 
 ter on his knees, and made a declaration in the most 
 eloquent terms he could muster. 
 
 " Don't be a fool, Baroski !" said the lady (I can't 
 help it if her language was not more choice, and if she 
 did not rise with cold dignity, exclaiming, "Unhand 
 me, sir !")— " don't be a fool !" said Mrs. Walker, " but 
 get up and let's finish the lesson." 
 
 " You hard-hearted adorable little greature, vil you 
 not listen to me ?" 
 
 " No, I vill not listen to you, Benjamin !" concluded 
 the lady ; " get up and take a chair, and don't go on in 
 that ridicklous way, don't 1" 
 
 But Baroski, having a speech by heart, determined 
 to deliver himself of it in that posture, and begged Mor- 
 giana not to turn avay her divine hice, and to listen to 
 de voice of his despair, and so forth, and seized the 
 lady's hand, and was going to press it to his lips, when 
 she said, with more spirit, perhaps, than grace, — 
 
 " Leave go my hand, sir, I'll box your ears if you 
 don't!" 
 
 But Baroski wouldn't release her hand, and was 
 proceeding to imprint a kiss upon it, and Mrs. Crump, 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 127 
 
 who had taken the omnibus at a quarter past twelve 
 instead of that at twelve, had just opened the drawing- 
 room door and was walking in, when Morgiana, turning 
 as red as a peony, and unable to disengage her left hand 
 which the musician held, raised up her right hand, and, 
 with all her might and main, gave her lover such a 
 tremendous slap in the face as caused him abruptly to 
 release the hand which he held, and would have laid 
 him prostrate on the carpet but for Mrs. Crump, who 
 rushed forward and prevented him from falling by 
 administering right and left a whole shower of slaps, 
 such as he had never endured since the day he was at 
 school. 
 
 " What imperence !" said that worthy lady ; " you'll 
 lay hands on my daughter will you ? (one, two). You'll 
 insult a woman in distress, will you, you little coward ? 
 (one, two). Take that, and mind your manners, you 
 filthy Jew boy!" 
 
 Baroski bounced up in a fury. "By Chofe,„you 
 shall hear of dis!" shouted he; "you shall pay me 
 dis !" 
 
 "As many more as you please, little Benjamin," 
 cried the widow. " Augustus (to the page), was that 
 the captain's knock?" At this Baroski made for his 
 hat. " Augustus, show this imperence to the door, and, 
 if he tries to come in again, call a policeman, do you 
 hear V* 
 
 The music-master vanished very rapidly, and the 
 two ladies, instead of being frightened or falling into 
 hysterics as their betters would have done, laughed at 
 the odious monster's discomfiture, as they called him. 
 " Such a man as that set himself up against my How- 
 
128 MEN ? S WIVES. 
 
 ard !" said Morgiana, with becoming pride ; but it was 
 agreed between them that Howard should know no- 
 thing of what had occurred for fear of quarrels, or lest he 
 should be annoyed. So when he came home not a word 
 was said ; and only that his wife met him with more 
 warmth than usual, you could not have guessed that 
 any thing extraordinary had occurred. It is not my 
 fault that my heroine's sensibilities were not more keen, 
 that she had not the least occasion for sal-volatile or 
 symptom of a fainting fit ; but so it was, and Mr. How- 
 ard Walker knew nothing of the quarrel between his 
 wife and her instructor, until * * * * 
 
 Until he was arrested next day at the suit of Benja- 
 min Baroski for two hundred and twenty guineas, and, 
 in default of payment, was conducted by Mr. Tobias 
 Larkins to his principal lock-up house in Chancery 
 Lane* 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. WALKER FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES, AND 
 MRS. WALKER MAKES MANY FOOLISH ATTEMPTS TO 
 RESCUE HIM. 
 
 I hope the beloved reader is not silly enough to ima- 
 gine that Mr. Walker on finding himself inspunged for 
 debt in Chancery Lane, was so foolish as to think of 
 applying to any of his friends (those great person- 
 ages who have appeared every now and then in the 
 course of this little history, and have served to give 
 
THE KAVENSWING. 129 
 
 it a fashionable air). No, no ; he knew the world too 
 well : and that, though Billingsgate would give him as 
 many dozen of claret as he could carry away under his 
 belt, as the phrase is (I can't help it, Madam, if the 
 phrase is not more genteel), and though Vauxhall 
 would lend him his carriage, slap him on the back, and 
 dine at his house ; their lordships would have seen Mr. 
 Walker depending from a beam in front of the Old 
 Bailey rather than have helped him to a hundred 
 pounds. 
 
 And why, forsooth, should we expect otherwise in 
 the world ? I observe that men who complain of its 
 selfishness are quite as selfish as the world is, and no 
 more liberal of money than their neighbours ; and I am 
 quite sure with regard to Captain Walker that he would 
 have treated a friend in want exactly as he when in 
 want w : as treated. There w T as only his lady who in the 
 least was afflicted by his captivity ; and as for the club, 
 that went on, we are bound to say, exactly as it did on 
 the day previous to his disappearance. 
 
 By the way, about clubs — could we not, but for fear 
 of detaining the fair reader too long, enter into a whole- 
 some dissertation here, on the manner of friendship 
 established in those institutions, and the noble feeling 
 of selfishness which they are likely to encourage in the 
 male race? I put out of the question the stale topics 
 of complaint, such as leaving home, encouraging gor- 
 mandizing, and luxurious habits, <fec. ; but look also at 
 the dealings of club-men with one another. Look at 
 the rush for the evening paper ! See how Shiverton 
 orders a fire in the dog-days, and Sweetenham opens 
 the windows in February. See how Cramley takes the 
 6* 
 
130 men's wives. 
 
 whole breast of the turkey on his plate, and how many 
 times Jenkins sends away his beggarly half-pint of 
 sherry ! Clubbery is organized egotism. Club inti- 
 macy is carefully and wonderfully removed from friend- 
 ship. You meet Smith for twenty years, exchange the 
 day's news with him, laugh with him over the last joke, 
 grow as well acquainted as two men may be together — 
 and one day, at the end of the list of members of 
 the club, you read in a little paragraph by itself, with 
 all the honours, 
 
 MEMBER DECEASED. 
 
 Smith, John, Esq. ; 
 
 or he, on the other hand, has the advantage of reading 
 your own name selected for a similar typographical dis- 
 tinction. There it is, that abominable little exclusive 
 list at the end of every club-catalogue — you can't avoid 
 it — I belong to eight clubs myself, and know that one 
 year Fitz Boodle, George Savage, Esq. (unless it should 
 please fate to remove my brother and his six sons, when of 
 course it would be Fitz Boodle, Sir George Savage, Bart.), 
 will appear in the dismal category. There is that list ; 
 down I must go in it : — the day will come and I shan't 
 be seen in the bow- window, some one else will be sitting 
 in the vacant arm-chair: the rubber will begin as usual, 
 and yet somehow Fitz will not be there. " Where's 
 Fitz?" says Trumpington, just arrived from the Rhine 
 " Don't you know ?" says Punter, turning down his 
 thumb to the carpet. " You led the club, I think ?" 
 says Ruff to his partner (the other partner !), and the 
 waiter snuffs the candles. 
 
 ***** 
 ***** 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 131 
 
 I hope in the course of the above little pause, every 
 single member of a club who reads this has profited by 
 the perusal. He may belong, I say, to eight clubs, he 
 will die and not be missed by any of the five thousand 
 members. Peace be to him; the waiters will forget 
 him, and his name will pass away, and another great- 
 coat will hang on the hook whence his own used to be 
 dependent. 
 
 And this I need not say is the beauty of the club- 
 institutions. If it were otherwise, — if forsooth we were 
 to be sorry when our friends died, or to draw our purses 
 when our friends were in want, we should be insolvent, 
 and life would be miserable. Be it ours to button up 
 our pockets and our hearts ; and to make merry — it 
 is enough to swim down this life-stream for ourselves ; if 
 Poverty is clutching hold of our heels, or Friendship 
 would catch an arm, kick them both off. Every man's 
 for himself, is the word, and plenty to do too. 
 
 My friend Captain Walker had practised the above 
 maxims so long and resolutely as to be quite aware 
 when he came himself to be in distress, that not a sin- 
 gle soul in the whole universe would help him, and he 
 took his measures accordingly. 
 
 When carried to Mr. Bendigo's lock-up house, he 
 summoned that gentleman in a very haughty way, took 
 a blank banker's cheque out of his pocket-book, and 
 filling it up for the exact sum of the writ, orders Mr. 
 Bendigo forthwith to open the door and let him go 
 forth. 
 
 Mr. Bendigo, smiling with exceeding archness, and 
 putting a finger covered all over with diamond rings to 
 his extremely aquiline nose, inquired of Mr. Walker 
 
132 men's wives. 
 
 whether he saw anything green about his face ? inti- 
 mating by this gay and good-humoured interrogatory 
 his suspicion of the unsatisfactory nature of the docu- 
 ment handed over to him by Mr. Walker. 
 
 " Hang it, sir !" says Mr. Walker, " go and get the 
 cheque cashed, and be quick about it. Send your man 
 in a cab, and here's a half-crown to pay for it." The 
 confident air somewhat staggers the bailiff, who asked 
 him whether he would like any refreshment while his 
 man was absent getting the amount of the cheque, and 
 treats his prisoner with great civility during the time of 
 the messenger's journey. 
 
 But as Captain Walker had but a balance of two 
 pounds five and two-pence (this sum was afterwards 
 divided among his creditors, the law-expenses being pre- 
 viously deducted from it), the bankers of course declined 
 to cash the captain's draft for two hundred and odd 
 pounds, simply writing the words " no effects" on the 
 paper ; on receiving which reply Walker, far from being 
 cast down, burst out laughing very gayly, produced a 
 real five-pound note, and called upon his host for a bot- 
 tle of champagne, which the two worthies drank in per- 
 fect friendship and good-humour. The bottle was 
 scarcely finished, and the young Israelitish gentleman 
 who acts as waiter in Cursitor Street had only time to 
 remove the flask and the glasses, when poor Morgiana 
 with a flood of tears rushed into her husband's arms, 
 and flung herself on his neck, and calling him her 
 " dearest, blessed Howard," would have fainted at his 
 feet ; but that he, breaking out in a fury of oaths, asked 
 her how, after getting him into that scrape through her 
 infernal extravagance, she dared to show her face before 
 
THE HAVENS WING. 133 
 
 him i This address speedily frightened the poor thing 
 out of her fainting fit — there is nothing so good for 
 female hysterics as a little conjugal sternness, nay, bru- 
 tality, as many husbands can aver who are in the habit 
 of employing the remedy. 
 
 " My extravagance, Howard ?" said she, in a faint 
 way ; and quite put off her purpose of swooning by the 
 sudden attack made upon her — " Surely, my love, you 
 
 have nothing to complain of " 
 
 " Of, ma'am ?" roared the excellent Walker, " Is two 
 hundred guineas to a music-master nothing to complain 
 of? Did you bring me such a fortune as to authorize 
 your taking guinea lessons ? Haven't I raised you out 
 of your sphere of life and introduced you to the best 
 of the land ? Haven't I dressed you like a duchess ? 
 Haven't I been for you such a husband as very few 
 women in the world ever had, madam — answer me 
 that ?" 
 
 "Indeed, Howard, you were always very kind," 
 sobbed the lady. 
 
 " Haven't I toiled and slaved for you, — been out all 
 day working for you ? Haven't I allowed your vulgar 
 old mother to come to your house — to my house, I say ? 
 Haven't I done all this P 
 
 She could not deny it, and Walker, who was in a 
 rage (and when a man is in a rage, for what on earth 
 is a wife made for but that he should vent his rage on 
 her ?), continued for some time in this strain, and so 
 abused, frightened, and overcame poor Morgiana, that 
 she left her husband fully convinced that she was the 
 most guilty of beings, and bemoaning his double bad 
 fortune that her Howard was ruined and she the cause 
 of his misfortunes. 
 
134 men's wives. 
 
 When she was gone, Mr. Walker resumed his equa- 
 nimity (for he was not one of those men whom a few 
 months of the King's Bench were likely to terrify), and 
 drank several glasses of punch in company with his 
 host, with whom in perfect calmness he talked over his 
 affairs. That he intended to pay his debt and quit the 
 spunging-house next day is a matter of words ; no one 
 ever was yet put in a spunging-house that did not 
 pledge his veracity he intended to quit it to-morrow. 
 Mr. Bendigo said he should be heartily glad to open 
 the door to him, and in the meantime sent out diligent- 
 ly to see among his friends if there were any more de- 
 tainers against the Captain, and to inform the Captain's 
 creditors to come forward against him. 
 
 Morgiana went borne in profound grief it may be 
 imagined, and could hardly refrain from bursting into 
 tears, when the sugar-loaf page asked whether master 
 was coming home early, or whether he had taken his 
 key ; and lay awake tossing and wretched the whole 
 night, and very early in the morning rose up, and 
 dressed, and went out. 
 
 Before nine o'clock she was in Cursitor Street ; and 
 once more joyfully bounced into her husband's arms, 
 who woke up yawning and swearing somewhat, with a 
 severe headache, occasioned by the jollification of the 
 previous night; for, strange though it may seem, there 
 are perhaps no places in Europe where jollity is more 
 practised than in prisons for debt : and I declare for 
 my own part (I mean, of course, that I went to visit a 
 friend) I have dined at Mr. Aminadab's as sumptuously 
 as at Long's. 
 
 But it is necessary to account for Morgiana's joyful- 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 135 
 
 ness, which was strange in her husband's perplexity, 
 and after her sorrow of the previous night. Well, then, 
 when Mrs. Walker went out in the morning, as she did 
 with a very large basket under her arm, " Shall I carry 
 the basket, ma'am V said the page, seizing it with much 
 alacrity. 
 
 "No, thank you," cried his mistress, with equal eager- 
 ness : " it's only " 
 
 " Of course, ma'am," replied the boy, sneering, " I 
 knew it was that." 
 
 "Glass," continued Mrs. Walker, turning extremely 
 red. " Have the goodness to call a coach, sir, and not 
 to speak till you are questioned." 
 
 The young gentleman disappeared upon his errand: 
 the coach was called and came. Mrs. Walker slipped 
 into it with her basket, and the page w T ent down-stairs 
 to his companions in the kitchen, and said, " It's a 
 comin' ! master's in quod, and missus has gone out to 
 pawn the plate." When the cook went out that day, 
 she somehow had by mistake placed in her basket a 
 dozen of table-knives and a plated egg-stand. When 
 the lady's-maid took a walk in the course of the after- 
 noon, she found she had occasion for eight cambric 
 pocket-handkerchiefs (marked with her mistress's ci- 
 pher), half a dozen pairs of shoes, gloves, long and 
 short, some silk stockings, and a gold-headed scent-bot- 
 tle. "Both the new cashmires is gone," said she, " and 
 there's nothing left in Mrs. Walker's trinket-box but a 
 paper of pins and an old coral bracelet." As for the 
 page, he rushed incontinently to his master's dressing- 
 room and examined every one of the pockets of his 
 clothes : made a parcel of some of them, and opened 
 
130 MENS WIVES. 
 
 all the drawers which Walker had not locked before 
 his departure. He only found three-half-pence and a 
 bill-stamp, and about forty-five tradesmen's accounts, 
 neatly labelled and tied up with red tape. These three 
 worthies, a groom, who was a great admirer of Trim- 
 mer the lady's-maid, and a policeman, a friend of the 
 cook's, sat down to a comfortable dinner at the usual 
 hour, and it was agreed among them all that Walker's 
 ruin was certain. The cook made the policeman a pre- 
 sent of a china punch-bowl which Mrs. Walker had 
 given her; and the lady's-maid gave her friend the 
 Book of Beauty for last year, and the third volume of 
 Byron's poems from the drawing-room table. 
 
 "I'm dash'd if she ain't taken the little French 
 clock, too," said the page, and so indeed Mrs. Walker 
 had ; it slipped in the basket where it lay enveloped in 
 one of her shawls, and then struck madly and unnat- 
 urally a great number of times, as Morgiana was lifting 
 her store of treasures out of the hackney-coach. The 
 coachman wagged his head sadly as he saw her walking 
 as quick as she could under her heavy load, and disap- 
 pearing round the corner of the street at which Mr. 
 Balls's celebrated jewellery establishment is situated. It 
 is a grand shop, with magnificent silver cups and sal- 
 vers, rare gold-headed canes, flutes, watches, diamond 
 brooches, and a few fine specimens of the old masters in 
 the window, and under the words — 
 
 Balls, Jcweller, 
 
 yOU read, Money Lent, 
 
 in the very smallest type, on the door. 
 
 The interview with Mr. Balls need not be described, 
 
THE HAVENS WING. 137 
 
 but it must have been a satisfactory one, for at the end 
 of half an hour, Morgiana returned and bounded into 
 the coach with sparkling eyes, and told the driver to 
 gallop to Cursitor Street, which, smiling, he promised to 
 do : and accordingly set off in that direction at the rate 
 of four miles an hour. " I thought so," said the philo- 
 sophic charioteer. " When a man's in quod, woman 
 don't mind her silver spoons ;" and he was so delighted 
 with her action, that he forgot to grumble when she 
 came to settle accounts with him, even though she gave 
 him only double his fere. 
 
 " Take me to him," said she to the young Hebrew 
 who opened the door. 
 
 " To whom !" says the sarcastic youth ; " there's 
 twenty hims here. You're precious early." 
 
 a To Captain Walker, young man," replied Morgiana 
 haughtily, whereupon the youth opening the second door, 
 and seeing Mr. Bendigo in a flow r ered dressing-gown de- 
 scending the stairs, exclaimed, "Papa, here's a lady for 
 the Captain." " I'm come to free him," said she, trem- 
 bling and holding out a bundle of bank-notes. " Here's 
 the amount of your claim, sir — two hundred and 
 twenty pounds, as you told me last night ;" and the Jew 
 took the notes, and grinned as he looked at her, and 
 grinned double as he looked at his son, and begged 
 Mrs. Walker to step into his study and take a receipt. 
 When the door of that apartment closed upon the lady 
 and his father, Mr. Bendigo the younger fell back in an 
 agony of laughter, which it is impossible to describe in 
 words, and presently ran out into a court where some 
 of the luckless inmates of the house were already taking 
 the air, and communicated something to them which 
 
138 men's wives. 
 
 made those individuals also laugh as uproariously as he 
 had previously done. 
 
 Well, after joyfully taking the receipt from Mr. Ben- 
 digo (how her cheeks flushed and her heart fluttered as 
 she dried it on the blotting-book !), and after turning 
 very pale again on hearing that the Captain had had a 
 very bad night ; " And well he might, poor dear I" said 
 she (at which Mr. Bendigo, having no person to grin at, 
 grinned at a marble bust of Mr. Pitt, which ornamented 
 his sideboard). Morgiana, I say, these preliminaries 
 being concluded, was conducted to her husband's apart- 
 ment, and once more flinging her arms round her dearest 
 Howard's neck, told him with one of the sweetest smiles 
 in the world to make haste and get up and come home, 
 for breakfast was waiting and the carriage at the door. 
 
 " What do you mean, love ?" said the Captain, 
 starting up and looking exceedingly surprised. 
 
 " I mean that my dearest is free ; that the odious 
 little creature is paid — at least the horrid bailiff is.'' 
 
 " Have you been to Baroski ?" said Walker, turn- 
 ing very red. 
 
 " Howard !" said his wife, quite indignant. 
 
 " Did — did your mother give you the money ?" 
 asked the Captain. 
 
 " No ; I had it by me," replies Mrs. Walker, with it 
 very knowing look. 
 
 Walker was more surprised than ever. "Have you 
 any more money by you ?" said he. 
 
 Mrs. Walker showed him her purse with two guin- 
 eas ; That is all, love," she said. " And I wish," con- 
 tinued she, "you would give me a draft to pay a whole 
 list of little bills that have somehow all come in within 
 the last few days." 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 139 
 
 " Well, well, you shall have the cheque," continued 
 Mr. Walker, and began forthwith to make his toilet, 
 which completed, he rung for Mr. Bendigo, and his bill, 
 and intimated his wish to go home directly. 
 
 The honoured bailiff brought the bill, but with 
 regard to his being free, said it was impossible. 
 
 " How impossible V said Mrs. Walker, turning very 
 red and then very pale. " Did I not pay just now ?" 
 
 " So you did, and you've got the reshipt ; but there's 
 another detainer against the Captain for a hundred and 
 fifty. Eglantine and Mossrose, of Bond Street; — per- 
 fumery for five years, you know." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you were such a fool as to 
 pay without asking if there were any more detainers ?" 
 roared Walker to his wife. 
 
 " Yes, she was though," chuckled Mr. Bendigo ; 
 " but she'll know better the next time : and, besides, 
 Captain, what's a hundred and fifty pounds to you ?" 
 
 Though Walker desired nothing so much in the 
 world at that moment as the liberty to knock down his 
 wife, his sense of prudence overcame his desire for jus- 
 tice, if that feeling may be called prudence on his part 
 which consisted in a strong wish to cheat the bailiff into 
 the idea that he (Walker) was an exceedingly respecta- 
 ble and wealthy man. Many worthy persons indulge 
 in this fond notion, that they are imposing upon the 
 world, strive to fancy, for instance, that their bankers 
 consider them men of property because they keep a 
 tolerable balance, pay little tradesmen's bills with osten- 
 tatious punctuality, and so forth, — but the world, let us 
 be pretty sure, is as wise as need be, and guesses our 
 real condition with a marvellous instinct, or learns it 
 
140 MEN'S WIVES. 
 
 with curious skill. The London tradesman is one of 
 the keenest judges of human nature extant ; and if a 
 tradesman, how much more a bailiff? though, in reply 
 to the ironic question, "What's a hundred and fifty 
 pounds to you ?" "Walker, collecting himself, answers, 
 " It is an infamous imposition, and I owe the money no 
 more than you do, but, nevertheless, I shall instruct my 
 lawyers to pay it in the course of the morning, under 
 protest of course." 
 
 " Oh, of course," said Mr. Bendigo, bowing and 
 quitting the room, and leaving Mrs. Walker to the 
 pleasure of a tete-a-tete with her husband. 
 
 And now being alone with the partner of his bosom, 
 the worthy gentleman began an address to her which 
 cannot be put down on paper here ; because the world 
 is exceedingly squeamish, and does not care to hear the 
 whole truth about rascals, and because the fact is that 
 almost every other word of the Captain's speech was a 
 curse, such as would shock the beloved reader were it 
 put in print. 
 
 " it, madam," began he, " I always thought 
 
 you a fool, but not such a fool as this, you ; 
 
 my eyes, you're enough to drive me mad with 
 
 your " * * * * * * 
 
 Now you see it is quite impossible to report such a 
 conversation word for word ; and I am pretty sure, a a 
 reste, that the editor of the Magazine would draw his 
 pen through every line of it. 
 
 Fancy, then, in lieu of the conversation, a scoundrel 
 disappointed and in a fury, wreaking his brutal revenge 
 upon an amiable woman, who sits trembling and pale, 
 and wondering at this sudden exhibition of wrath. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 141 
 
 Fancy how he clenches his fists and stands over her, 
 and stamps and screams out curses with a livid face, 
 growing wilder and wilder in his rage ; wrenching her 
 hand when she wants to turn away, and only stopping 
 at last when she has fallen off the chair in a fainting fit, 
 with a heart-breaking sob that made the Jew-boy who 
 was listening at the key-hole turn quite pale and walk 
 away. Well, it is best, perhaps, that such a conversa- 
 tion should not be told at length : — at the end of it, 
 when Mr. Walker had his wife lifeless on the floor, he 
 seizes a water-jug and poured it over her, which opera- 
 tion pretty soon brought her to herself, and shaking her 
 black ringlets, she looked up once more again timidly 
 into his face, and took his hand, and began to cry. 
 
 He spoke now in a somewhat softer voice : and let 
 her keep paddling on with his hand as before; he 
 couldn't speak very fiercely to the poor girl in her atti- 
 tude of defeat, and tenderness, and supplication. " Mor- 
 giana," said he, a your extravagance and carelessness 
 have brought me to ruin, I'm afraid. If you'd chosen 
 to have gone to Baroski, a word from you would have 
 made him withdraw the writ ; and my property wouldn't 
 have been sacrificed has it has now been for nothing. 
 It mayn't be yet too late, however, to retrieve ourselves. 
 This bill of Eglantine's is a regular conspiracy, I am 
 sure, between Mossrose and Bendigo here : you must 
 go to Eglantine — he's an old — an old flame of yours, 
 you know." 
 
 She dropped his hand ; " I can't go to Eglantine 
 after what has passed between us," she said ; but Wal- 
 ker's face instantly began to wear a certain look, and 
 she said with a shudder, " Well, well, dear, I will go." 
 
142 men's wives. 
 
 " You will go to Eglantine, and ask liim to take a 
 bill for the amount of this shameful demand — at any 
 date, never mind what. Mind, however, to see him 
 alone, and I'm sure if you choose you can settle the 
 business. Make haste ; set off directly, and come back, 
 as there may be more detainers in." 
 
 Trembling, and in a great flutter, Morgiana put on 
 her bonnet and gloves and went towards the door. 
 " It's a fine morning," said Mr. Walker, looking out ; 
 " a walk will do you good ; and — Morgiana — didn't 
 you say you had a couple of guineas in your pocket ?" 
 
 " Here it is," said she, smiling all at once, and hold- 
 ing up her face to be kissed. She paid the two guineas 
 for the kiss. Was it not a mean act ? " Is it possible 
 that people can love where they do not respect ?" says 
 Miss Prim. a / never would." Nobody asked you, 
 Miss Prim : but recollect Morgiana was not born with 
 your advantages of education and breeding ; and was, 
 in fact, a poor vulgar creature, who loved Mr. Walker, 
 not because her mamma told her, nor because he was an 
 exceedingly eligible and well-brought up young man ; 
 but because she could not help it, and knew no better. 
 Nor is Mrs. Walker set up as a model of virtue : ah no ! 
 when I want a model of virtue I will call in Baker 
 Street, and ask for a sitting of my dear (if I may be 
 permitted to say so) Miss Prim. 
 
 We have Mr. Howard Walker safely housed in Mr. 
 Bendigo's establishment in Cursitor Street, Chancery 
 Lane ; and it looks like mockery and want of feeling 
 towards the excellent hero of this story, or, as should 
 rather be said towards the husband of the heroine, to 
 say what he might have been but for the unlucky little 
 circumstance of Baroski's passion for Morgiana. 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 143 
 
 If Baroski had not fallen in love with Morgiana, he 
 would not have given her two hundred guineas' worth 
 of lessons, he would not have so far presumed as to 
 seize her hand and attempt to kiss it ; if he had not 
 attempted to kiss her, she would not have boxed his 
 ears ; he would not have taken out the writ against 
 Walker ; Walker would have been free, very possibly 
 rich, and therefore certainly respected ; he always says 
 to this day that a month's more liberty would have set 
 him beyond the reach of misfortune. 
 
 The assertion is very likely a correct one : for Wal- 
 ker had a flashy, enterprising genius, which ends in 
 wealth sometimes, in the King's Bench not seldom, oc- 
 casionally, alas, in Van Dieman's land ! He might 
 have been rich, could he have kept his credit, and had 
 not his personal expenses and extravagances pulled him 
 down. He had gallantly availed himself of his wife's 
 fortune ; nor could any man in London, as he proudly 
 said, have made five hundred pounds go so far. He 
 had, as we have seen, furnished a house, sideboard, and 
 cellar with it ; he had a carriage, and horses in his 
 stable, and with the remainder he had purchased 
 shares in four companies — of three of which he was 
 founder and director, had conducted innumerable bar- 
 gains in the foreign stocks, had lived and entertained 
 sumptuously, and made himself a very considerable in- 
 come. He had set up The Capitol Loan and Life 
 Assurance Company, had discovered the Chimborazo 
 gold mines, and the Society for Recovering and Drain- 
 ing the Pontine Marshes ; capital ten millions ; patron, 
 His Holiness the Pope. It certainly was stated in 
 an evening paper that his Holiness had made him a 
 
144 
 
 MEN'S WIVES. 
 
 Knight of the Spur, and had offered to him the rank of 
 Count ; and he was raising a loan for His Highness the 
 Cacique of Panama, who has sent him (by way of div- 
 idend) the grand cordon of his Highness's order of the 
 Castle and Falcon, which might be seen any day at his 
 office in Bond Street, with the parchments signed and 
 sealed by the Grand Marshal and Falcon King at Arms 
 of his Highness. In a week more, as Walker is ready 
 still to take his affidavit, he would have raised a hun- 
 dred thousand pounds, on his Highness's twenty per 
 cent loan ; he would have had fifteen thousand pounds * 
 commission for himself; his companies would have 
 risen to par, he would have realized his shares ; he 
 would have gone into parliament, he would have been 
 made a baronet, who knows ? a peer, probably ! " And 
 I appeal to you, sir," says Walker to his friends, " could 
 any man have shown better proof of his affection for 
 his wife, than by laying out her little miserable money 
 as I did ? They call me heartless, sir, because I didn't 
 succeed ; sir, my life has been a series of sacrifices for 
 that woman, such as no man ever performed before." 
 
 A proof of Walker's dexterity and capability for 
 business may be seen in the fact that he had actually 
 appeased and reconciled one of his bitterest enemies — 
 our honest friend Eglantine. After Walker's marriage, 
 Eglantine, who had now no mercantile dealings with 
 his former agent because so enraged with him, that, as 
 the only means of revenge in his power, he sent him in 
 his bill for goods supplied to the amount of one hun- 
 dred and fifty guineas, and sued him for the amount. 
 But Walker stepped boldly over to his enemy, and in 
 the course of half an hour thev were friends. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 145 
 
 Eglantine promises to forego his claim ; and ac- 
 cepted in lieu of it three £100 shares of the ex-Panama 
 stock, bearing 25 per cent., payable half-yearly at the 
 house of Hocus Brothers, St. Swithin's Lane ; three 
 £100 shares, the second class of the order of the Castle 
 and Falcon, with the riband and badge. " In four 
 years, Eglantine, my boy, I hope to get you the Grand 
 Cordon of the order," said Walker ; " I hope to see you 
 a Knight Grand Cross : with a grant of a hundred 
 thousand acres reclaimed from the Isthmus." 
 
 To do my poor Eglantine justice, he did not care 
 for the hundred thousand acres — it was the star that 
 delighted him ; — ah ! how his fat chest heaved with 
 delight as he sewed on the cross and riband to his 
 dress coat ; and lighted up four wax candles and looked 
 at himself in the glass. He was known to wear a 
 great-coat after that — it was that he might wear the 
 cross under it. That year he went on a trip to Bou- 
 logne. He was dreadfully ill during the voyage, but 
 as the vessel entered the port he was seen to emerge 
 from the cabin, his coat open, the star blazing on his 
 chest, the soldiers saluted him as he walked the streets, 
 he was called Monsieur le Chevalier, and when he went 
 home he entered into negotiations with Walker, to 
 purchase a commission in his Highness's service. Walk- 
 er said he would get the nominal rank of Captain, the 
 fees at the Panama War Office were five-and-twenty 
 pounds, which sum honest Eglantine produced, and had 
 his commission, and a pack of visiting cards printed as 
 Captain Archibald Eglantine, K. C. F. Many a time 
 he looked at them as they lay in his desk, and he kept 
 7 
 
146 men's wives. 
 
 the cross in his dressing-table, and wore it as he shaved 
 every morning. 
 
 His Highness the Cacique, it is well known, came 
 to England, and had lodgings in Eegent Street, where 
 he held a levee, at which Eglantine appears in the 
 Panama uniform, and was most graciously received by 
 his Sovereign. His Highness proposed to make Cap- 
 tain Eglantine his aide-de-camp with the rank of 
 Colonel, but the Captain's exchequer was rather low at 
 that moment, and the fees at the "War-Office" were 
 peremptory. Meanwhile his Highness left Eegent 
 Street, was said by some to have returned to Panama, 
 by others to be in his native city of Cork, by others to 
 be leading a life of retirement in the New Cut, Lam- 
 beth ; at any rate was not visible for some time, so that 
 Captain Eglantine's advancement did not take place. 
 Eglantine was somehow ashamed to mention his mili- 
 tary and chivalric rank to Mr. Mossrose, when that 
 gentleman came into partnership with him ; and left 
 these facts secret until they were detected by a very 
 painful circumstance. 
 
 On the very day that Walker was arrested at the 
 suit of Benjamin Baroski, there appeared in the news- 
 papers an account of the imprisonment of his Highness 
 the Prince of Panama, for a bill owing to a licensed vic- 
 tualler in KatclirT Highway. The m agistrate to whom the 
 victualler subsequently came to complain, passed many 
 pleasantries on the occasion. He asked whether his 
 Highness did not drink like a swan with two necks ; 
 whether he had brought any Belles savages with him 
 from Panama, and so forth ; and the whole court, said 
 the report, " was convulsed with laughter, when Boni- 
 
l'HE RAVEXSWING. 147 
 
 face produced a green and yellow riband with a large 
 star of the order of the Castle and Falcon, with which 
 his Highness proposed to gratify him, in lieu of paying 
 his little bill." 
 
 It was as he was reading the above document with 
 a bleeding heart that Mr. Mossrose came in from his 
 daily walk to the City. " Veil, Eglantine," says he, 
 " have you heard the newsh !" 
 
 " About his Highness ?" 
 
 " About your friend Valker ; he's arrested for two 
 hundred poundsh !" 
 
 Eglantine at this could contain no more ; but told 
 his story of how he had been induced to accept 3001. of 
 Panama stock for his account against Walker, and 
 cursed his stars for his folly. 
 
 " Veil, you've only to bring in another bill," said the 
 younger perfumer ; " swear he owes you a hundred and 
 fifty pounds, and we'll have a writ out against him 
 this afternoon." 
 
 And so a second writ was taken out against Cap- 
 tain Walker. 
 
 " You'll have his wife here very likely in a day or 
 two," said Mr. Mossrose to his partner ; " them chaps 
 always sends their wives, and I hope you know how to 
 deal with her." 
 
 " I don't value her a fig's hend," said Eglantine. 
 " I'll treat her like the dust of the hearth. After that 
 woman's conduct to me, I should like to see her have 
 the haudacity to come here ; and if she does, you'll see 
 how I'll serve her." 
 
 The worthy perfumer was, in fact, resolved to be 
 exceedingly hard-hearted, in his behaviour towards his 
 
148 men's wives. 
 
 old love, and acted over at night in bed the scene which 
 was to occur when the meeting should take place. Oh, 
 thought he, but it will be a grand thing to see the 
 proud Morgiana on her knees to me ; and me a point- 
 ing to the door ; and saying, " Madam, you've steeled 
 this 'eart against you, you have ; — bury the recollection 
 of old times, of those old times when I thought my 'eart 
 would have broke, but it didn't — no, 'earts are made oi 
 sterner stuff. I didn't die as I thought I should ; I 
 stood it, and live to see the woman I despised at my 
 feet — ha, ha, at my feet !" 
 
 In the midst of these thoughts Mr. Eglantine fell 
 asleep ; but it was evident that the idea of seeing Mor- 
 giana once more, agitated him considerably, else why 
 should he have been at the pains of preparing so much 
 heroism ? His sleep was exceedingly fitful and troubled ; 
 he saw Morgiana in a hundred shapes ; he dreamed that 
 he was dressing her hair ; that he was riding with her 
 to Richmond ; that the horse turned into a dragon, and 
 Morgiana into Woolsey, who took him by the throat 
 and choked him, while the dragon played the key-bugle. 
 And in the morning when Mossrose was gone to his 
 business in the City, and he sat reading the Morning 
 Post in his study, ah ! what a thump his heart gave as 
 the lady of his dreams actually stood before him ! 
 
 Many a lady who purchased brushes at Eglantine's 
 shop, would have given ten guineas for such a colour 
 as his when he saw her. His heart beat violently, he 
 was almost choking in his stays — he had been prepared 
 for the visit, but his courage failed him now it had 
 come. They were both silent for some minutes. 
 
 " You know what T am come for," at last said Mor- 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 149 
 
 giana from under her veil, but slie put it aside as she 
 spoke. 
 
 "I — that is — yes — it's a painful affair, mem," he 
 said, giving one look at her pale face, and then turning 
 away in a flurry. "I beg to refer you to Blunt, Hone, 
 and Sharpes, my lawyers, mem," he added, collecting 
 himself. 
 
 " I didn't expect this from you, Mr. Eglantine," said 
 the lady, and began to sob. 
 
 "And after what's 'appened, I didn't expect a visit 
 from you, mem. I thought Mrs. Capting Walker was 
 too great a dame to visit poor Harchibald Eglantine 
 (though some of the first men in the country do visit 
 him). Is there anything in w T hich I can oblige you, 
 mem ?" 
 
 " O heavens !" cried the poor woman ; " have I no 
 friend left ? I never thought that you, too, wtfuld have 
 deserted me, Mr. Archibald." 
 
 The "Archibald," pronounced in the old w r ay, 
 had evidently an effect on the perfumer ; he winced 
 and looked at her very eagerly for a moment. " What 
 can I do for you, mem ?" at last said he. 
 
 " What is this bill against Mr. Walker, for which 
 he is now in prison ?" 
 
 " Perfumery supplied for five years ; that man used 
 more 'air-brushes than any duke in the land, and as 
 for Eau de Cologne he must have bathed himself in it. 
 He hordered me about like a lord. He never paid me 
 one shilling, — he stabbed me in my most vital part — 
 but, ah! ah! never mind that: and I said I would 
 be revenged and I am." 
 
 The perfumer was quite in a rage again by this 
 
150 men's wives. 
 
 time, and wiped his fat face with his pocket-handker- 
 chief, and glared upon Mrs. Walker with a most deter- 
 mined air. 
 
 " Revenged on whom ? Archibald — Mr. Eglantine, 
 revenged on me — on a poor woman whom you made 
 miserable. You would not have done so once." 
 
 " Ha ! and a precious way you treated me oner:' 
 said Eglantine ; " don't talk to me, mem, of mice. 
 Bury the recollection of once for hever ! I thought my 
 'eart would have broke once, but no; 'earts are made 
 of sterner stuff. I didn't die as I thought I should ; I 
 stood it- — and I live to see the woman who despised me 
 at my feet." 
 
 " Oh, Archibald !" was all the lady could say, and 
 she fell to sobbing again ; it was perhaps her best 
 argument with the perfumer. 
 
 " Oh, Harchibald, indeed !" continued he, beginning 
 to swell ; dont call me Harchibald, Morgiana. Think 
 what a position you might have held, if you'd chose : 
 when, when — you might have called me Harchibald. 
 Now it's no use," added he, with harrowing pathos ; 
 "but, though I've been wronged, I can't bear to see 
 women in tears — tell me what I can do ?" 
 
 " Dear, good Mr. Eglantine, send to your lawyers 
 and stop this horrid prosecution — take Mr. Walker's 
 acknowledgment for the debts. If he is free, he is 
 sure to have a very large sum of money in a few days, 
 and will pay you all. Do not ruin him — do not ruin 
 me by persisting now. Be the old kind Eglantine you 
 were." 
 
 Eglantine took a hand, which Morgiana did not 
 refuse; bethought about old times. He had known 
 
T11K KAVBNSWING, 151 
 
 her since childhood almost ; as a girl he dandled her on 
 his knee at the Kidneys ; as a woman he had adored 
 her, — his heart was melted. 
 
 " He did pay me in a sort of way," reasoned the 
 perfumer with himself—" these bonds, though they are 
 not worth much, I took 'em for better or for worse, and 
 I can't bear to see her crying, and to trample on a 
 woman in distress. Morgiana," he added, in a loud 
 cheerful voice, " cheer up ; I'll give you a release for 
 your husband : I will be the old kind Eglantine I was." 
 
 " Be the old kind jackass you vash !" here roared a 
 voice that made Mr. Eglantine start " Vy, vat an old fat 
 fool you are, Eglantine, to give up our just debts because 
 a voman comes snivelling and crying to you — and such 
 a voman, too !" exclaimed Mr. Mossrose, for his was the 
 voice. 
 
 " Such a woman, sir V cried the senior partner. 
 
 " Yes ; such a woman — vy didn't she jilt you her- 
 self? — hasn't she been trying the same game with Ba- 
 roski ; and are you so green as to give up a hundred 
 and fifty pounds because she takes a fancy to come 
 vimpering here ? I won't, I can tell you. The money's 
 as much mine as it is yours, and I'll have it, or keep 
 Walker's body, that's what I will." 
 
 At the presence of his partner, the timid good 
 genius of Eglantine which had prompted him to mercy 
 and kindness, at once outspread its frightened wings 
 and flew away. 
 
 " You see how it is, Mrs. W.," said he, looking 
 down; "it's an affair of business — in all these here 
 affairs of business Mr. Mossrose is the managing man ; 
 ain't you, Mr. Mossrose S" 
 
152 men's wives. 
 
 "A pretty business it would be if I wasn't" replied 
 Mossrose, doggedly. " Come, ma'ra," says he, " I'll tell 
 you vat I do : I take fifty per slient ; not a farthing 
 less — give me that, and out your husband goes." 
 
 " Oh, sir, Howard will pay you in a week." 
 
 " Veil, den let him stop at my uncle Bendigo's for a 
 week, and come out den — he's very comfortable there," 
 said Shylock with a grin. " Hadn't you better go to 
 the shop, Mr. Eglantine," continued he, " and look after 
 your business : Mrs. Walker can't want you to listen to 
 her all day." 
 
 Eglantine was glad of the excuse, and slunk out of 
 the studio, not into the shop but into his parlour ; where 
 he drank off a great glass of Maraschino ; and sat blush- 
 ing and exceedingly agitated, until Mossrose came to 
 tell him that Mrs. W. was gone, and wouldn't trouble 
 him any more. But although he drank several more 
 glasses of Maraschino, and went to the play that night, 
 and to the cider-cellars afterwards, neither the liquor, 
 nor the play, nor the delightful comic songs at the cel- 
 lars, could drive Mrs. Walker out of his head, and the 
 memory of old times, and the image of her pale weeping 
 face. 
 
 Morgiana tottered out of the shop, scarcely heeding 
 the voice of Mr. Mossrose, who said, " I'll take forty per 
 shent" (and went back to his duty cursing himself for 
 a soft-hearted fool for giving up so much of his rights to 
 a puling woman). Morgiana. I say, tottered out of the 
 shop, and went up Conduit Street, weeping, weeping 
 with all her eyes. She was quite faint, for she had 
 taken nothing that morning but the glass of water 
 which the pastry-cook in the Strand had given her, and 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 153 
 
 was forced to take hold of the railings of a house for 
 support, just as a little gentleman with a yellow hand- 
 kerchief under his arm was issuing from the door. 
 
 " Good heavens, Mrs. Walker I" said the gentleman, 
 it was no other than Mr. Woolsey, who was going forth 
 to try a body coat for a customer, " are you ill ? — 
 what's the matter ? for God's sake come in I" and he 
 took her arm under his, and led her into his back- 
 parlour, and seated her, and had some wine-and-water 
 before her in one minute, before she had said one single 
 word regarding herself. 
 
 As soon as she was somewhat recovered, and with 
 the interruption of a thousand sobs, the poor thing told 
 as well as she could her little story. Mr. Eglantine had 
 arrested Mr. Walker ; she had been trying to gain time 
 for him, Eglantine had refused. 
 
 " The hard-hearted, cowardly brute to refuse her 
 any thing !" said loyal Mr. Woolsey. " My dear," says 
 he, " I've no reason to love your husband, and know too 
 much about him to respect him ; but I love and respect 
 you, and will spend my last shilling to serve you." At 
 which Morgiana could only take his hand and cry a 
 great deal more than ever. She said Mr. Walker would 
 have a great deal of money in a week, that he was the 
 best of husbands, and she was sure Mr. Woolsey would 
 think better of him when he knew him ; that Mr. Eglan- 
 tine's bill was one hundred and fifty pounds, but that 
 Mr. Mossrose would take forty per cent, if Mr. Woolsey 
 could say how much that was. 
 
 " I'll pay a thousand pound to do you good," said 
 Mr. Woolsey, bouncing up ; " stay here for ten minutes, 
 my dear, until my return, and all shall be right, as you 
 7* 
 
154 men's wives. 
 
 will see." He was back in ten minutes, and had called 
 a cab from the stand opposite (all the coachmen there 
 had seen and commented on Mrs. Walker's woe-begone 
 looks), and they were off for Cursitor Street in a mo- 
 ment. " They'll settle the whole debt for twenty pounds," 
 said he, and showed an order to that effect from Mr. 
 Mossrose to Mr. Bendigo's, empowering the latter to 
 release Walker on receiving Mr. Woolsey's acknowledg- 
 ment for the above sum. 
 
 ^» *?» 3Rf vf tr? 
 
 " There's no use paying it," said Mr. Walker, dog- 
 gedly, " it would only be robbing you, Mr. Woolsey — 
 seven more detainers have come in while my wife has 
 been away. I must go through the court now ; but," 
 he added in a whisper to the tailor, " my good sir, my 
 debts of honour are sacred, and if you will have the 
 goodness to lend me the twenty pounds, I pledge you 
 my word as a gentleman to return it when I come out 
 of quod." 
 
 It is probable that Mr. Woolsey declined this ; for 
 as soon as he was gone, Walker, in a tremendous fury, 
 began cursing his wife for dawdling three hours on the 
 road. " Why the deuce, ma'am, didn't you take a 
 cab?" roared he, when he heard she had walked to 
 Bond Street. " Those writs have only been in half an 
 hour, and I might have been off but for you." 
 
 " O, Howard," said she, " didn't you take — didn't I 
 give you my — my last shilling?" and fell back and 
 wept again more bitterly than ever. 
 
 " Well, love," said her amiable husband, turning 
 rather red ; " never mind, it wasn't your fault. It is 
 but going through the court. It is no great odds. I 
 
 forgive you." 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 155 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN WHICH MR. WALKER STILL REMAINS IN DIFFICULTIES, 
 BUT SHOWS GREAT RESIGNATION UNDER HIS MIS- 
 FORTUNES. 
 
 The exemplary Walker now seeing that escape from 
 his enemies was hopeless, and that it was his duty as a 
 man to turn on them and face them, now determined 
 to quit the splendid though narrow lodgings which Mr. 
 Bendigo had provided for him, and undergo the mar- 
 tyrdom of the Fleet. Accordingly, in company with 
 that gentleman, he came over to her Majesty's prison, 
 and gave himself into the custody of the officers there ; 
 and did not apply for the accommodation of the rules 
 (by which in those days the captivity of some debtors 
 was considerably heightened), because he knew perfectly 
 well that there was no person in the wide world who 
 would give a security for the heavy sum for which 
 Walker was answerable. What these sums were is no 
 matter, and on this head we do not think it at all 
 necessary to satisfy the curiosity of the reader. He 
 may have owed hundreds — thousands, his creditors 
 only can tell ; he paid the dividend which has been 
 formerly mentioned, and showed thereby his desire to 
 satisfy all claims upon him to the uttermost farthing. 
 
 As for the little house in Connaught Square, when, 
 alter quilling her husband, Morgiana drove back thither, 
 
156 men's wives. 
 
 the door was opened by the page, who instantly thanked 
 her to pay his wages ; and in the drawing-room, on a 
 yellow satin sofa, sat a seedy man (with a pot of porter 
 beside him placed on an album for fear of staining the 
 rosewood table), and the seedy man signified that he 
 had taken possession of the furniture in execution for a 
 judgment debt. Another seedy man was in the dining- 
 room, reading a newspaper and drinking gin ; he in- 
 formed Mrs. Walker that he was the representative of 
 another judgment debt and of another execution: — 
 " There's another on 'em in the kitchen," said the page, 
 " taking an inwentory of the furniture ; and he swears 
 he'll have you took up for swindling, for pawning the 
 plate." 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Woolsey, for that worthy man had 
 conducted Morgiana home, " sir," said he, shaking his 
 stick at the young page, " if you give any more of your 
 impudence I'll beat every button off your jacket ;" and 
 as there were some four hundred of these ornaments, the 
 page was silent. It was a great mercy for Morgiana 
 that the honest and faithful tailor had accompanied her. 
 The good fellow had waited very patiently for her for 
 an hour in the parlour or coffee-room of the lock-up 
 house, knowing full well that she would want a pro- 
 tector on her way homewards ; and his kindness will be 
 more appreciated when it is stated that during the time 
 of his, delay in the coffee-room he had been subject to 
 the entreaties, nay, to the insults of Cornet Fipkin of 
 the Blues, who was in prison at the suit of Lindsey, 
 Woolsey, and Co., and who happened to be taking his 
 breakfast in the apartment when his obdurate creditor 
 entered it. The cornet (a hero of eighteen, who stood 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 157 
 
 at least five feet three in bis boots, and owed fifteen 
 thousand pounds) was so enraged at the obduracy of 
 his creditor that he said he would have thrown him out 
 of the window but for the bars which guarded it ; and 
 entertained serious thoughts of knocking the tailor's 
 head off, but that the latter, putting his right leg for- 
 ward and his fists in a proper attitude, told the young 
 officer to " come on ;" on which the cornet cursed the 
 tailor for a "snob," and went back to his breakfast. 
 The cornet subsequently took benefit of the act, and is 
 
 now Sir Frederick Fipkin Fipkin of the Fip, shire, 
 
 the respected master of fox-hounds in that county. It 
 is only to simpletons and cowards that the English laws 
 of debtor and creditor are frightful — advance boldly 
 towards them, and they vanish like ghosts before bold 
 knights of old; but let a man be afraid of them, and 
 the poor trembling wretch is their slave for ever. We 
 all know men who have undergone the process of what 
 is called "whitewashing" a half score of times — ask 
 them are they afraid of it ? Psha ! it is nothing. And 
 wise and merciful our law is in this respect. It is 
 the terror of what are called honest men, certainly; 
 but on the other hand, it is the great comfort and con- 
 solation of other persons — a philanthropic premium for 
 those who must have their ease and cannot live without 
 their horse to ride, nor dine without their champagne ; 
 and who would pine away hopelessly, did not the 
 admirable system of credit supply them gratis with all 
 the little wants and luxuries necessary to persons of 
 their peculiar and delicate organization. 
 
 Take an instance on the other side — a friend of 
 mine dined the other day at the Coke-upon-Lyttelton 
 
158 men's wives. 
 
 Club, and put a case to several of his legal friends there. 
 He had been abroad with his family for two years, 
 leaving his house in charge of a servant on board-wages. 
 A poulterer, on his return, brings him in a bill for fine 
 Dorking fowls, turkeys and pigeons, and such delicacies 
 supplied to his family during their residence five hun- 
 dred miles off abroad. " A part of this bill," says he, 
 " may be correct, for it is dated, you see, three years 
 back ; and Mrs. Jones, who is at Munich, can't tell 
 whether she paid it : — but is it not monstrous, however, 
 that I should have to pay the other part? Ah, to pay 
 for barn-door fowls that never passed my gates, and 
 turkey-polts of which I have never seen a feather ?" But 
 the lawyers said with one voice, " Pay it. It will cost 
 you more to win the cause than to pay the bill :" " And 
 for my part," says one great legal authority (whose 
 name for fear of consequences I will not mention), " if 
 any tradesman choose to send me in a bill I will pay it 
 rather than go to law." How much will any honest 
 tradesman give to know my learned friend's name ? 
 It would be a fortune to a clever fellow, and I would 
 recommend such to take the law-list and issue little bills 
 and little writs all round — the learned gentlemen know 
 too well their business not to pay ; and no more like to 
 employ their own wares, than physicians like to take 
 pills, or pastry-cooks to swallow tarts. Oh, that a 
 society of philanthropists would but take this hint and 
 act upon it ; taking upon them to swear debts against 
 the bar, the attorneys, and the members of both houses ! 
 and so give an an illustration of the noble system of 
 credit — the kind patron of roguery, the fruitful parent of 
 litigation, the bully who frightens solvent men into the 
 
THE RAVEXSWING. 159 
 
 payment of unjust debts, the tempter who encourages 
 extravagance and knavery to contract them ; of credit, 
 which offers a premium to the tradesman to cheat the 
 customers, to the customer to cheat the tradesman, and 
 to the lawyer to rob all. As it was heaven that com- 
 manded industry, so be sure it was the devil who 
 invented credit. 
 
 This little digression, my dear friend, has been oc- 
 casioned not so much by the sight of the execution 
 people in charge of Mr. Walker's house (whence of 
 course, Mrs. Walker was driven to take refuge with her 
 mamma near Sadler's Wells), as by thinking over the 
 life of the brave Captain himself, now comfortably 
 lodged in the Fleet. He had some ready money, and 
 w T ith it managed to make his existence exceedingly 
 comfortable. He lived with the best society of the place, 
 consisting of several distinguished young noblemen and 
 gentlemen. He spent the morning playing at fives and 
 smoking cigars ; the evening smoking cigars and dining 
 comfortably. Cards came after dinner ; and, as the 
 captain was an experienced player, and near a score of 
 years older than most of his friends, he was gene- 
 rally pretty successful ; and, indeed if he had received 
 all the money that was owed to him, he might have 
 come out of prison and paid his creditors twenty shil- 
 lings in the pound — that is if he had been minded to do 
 so. But there is no use in examining into that point 
 too closely, for the fact is, young Fipkin only paid him 
 forty pounds out of seven hundred, for which he gave 
 him I. 0. IPs. Algernon Ducease not only did not pay 
 him three hundred and twenty which he lost at blind 
 hooky, but actually borrowed seven and sixpence in 
 
160 men's wives. 
 
 money from Walker, which have never been repaid to 
 this day ; and Lord Doublequits actually lost nineteen 
 thousand pounds to him at heads and tails, which he 
 never paid, pleading drunkenness and his minority. 
 The reader may recolllect a paragraph which went the 
 round of the papers entitled, " Affair of Honour in the 
 Fleet Prison, — Yesterday morning (behind the pump 
 in the second court) Lord D-bl-qu-ts and Captain H-w- 
 rd W-lk-r (a near relative, we understand, of His Grace 
 the Duke of N-rf-lk) had a hostile meeting and ex- 
 changed two shots. These two young sprigs of nobility 
 were attended to the ground by Major Flush, who, by 
 the way, is flush no longer, and Captain Pam, late of 
 
 the Dragoons. Play is said to have been the cause 
 
 of the quarrel, and the gallant captain is reported to 
 have handled the noble lord's nose rather roughly at 
 one stage of the transactions." When Morgiana at Sad- 
 ler's Wells heard these news, she was ready to faint with 
 terror ; and rushed to the Fleet Pri son, and embraced 
 her lord and master with her usual expansion and fits of 
 tears, very much to that gentleman's annoyance, who 
 happened to be in company with Pam and Flush at the 
 time, and did not care that his handsome wife should 
 be seen too much in the dubious precincts of the Fleet. 
 He had at least so much shame about him, and had 
 always rejected her entreaties to be allowed to inhabit 
 the prison with him. 
 
 " It is enough," would he say, casting his eyes 
 heavenward, and with a most lugubrious countenance, 
 — " it is enough, Morgiana, that / should suffer, even 
 though your thoughtlessness has been the cause of my 
 ruin. But enough of that ! I will not rebuke you for 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 161 
 
 faults for which I know you are now repentant ; and I 
 never could bear to see you in the midst of the miseries 
 of this horrible place. Remain at home with your 
 mother, and let me drag on the weary days here alone. 
 If you can get me any more of that pale sherry, my 
 love, do. I require something to cheer me in solitude, 
 and have found my chest very much relieved by that 
 wine. Put more pepper and eggs, my dear, into the 
 next veal-pie you make me. I can't eat the horrible 
 messes in the coffee-room here." 
 
 It was Walker's wish, I can't tell why, except that 
 it is the wish of a great number of other persons in this 
 strange world, to m«ike his wife believe that he was 
 wretched in mind and ill in health ; and all assertions 
 to this effect the simple creature received with number- 
 less tears of credulity, and would go home to Mrs. 
 Crump, and say how her darling Howard was pining 
 away, how he was ruined for he?% and with what angelic 
 sweetness he bore his captivity. The fact is, he bore it 
 with so much resignation that no other person in the 
 world could see that he was unhappy. His life undis- 
 turbed by duns ; his day was his from morning till 
 night ; his diet was good, his acquaintances jovial, his 
 purse tolerably well supplied, and he had not one single 
 care to annoy him. 
 
 Mrs. Crump and Woolsey, perhaps, received Mor- 
 gi ana's account of her husband's miseries with some in- 
 credulity. The latter was now a daily visitor to Sad- 
 ler's Wells. His love for Morgiana had become a 
 warm, fatherly, generous regard for her ; and it was out 
 of the honest fellow's cellar that the wine used to come 
 which did so much good to Mr. Walker's chest ; and he 
 tried a thousand ways to make Morgiana happy. 
 
162 
 
 A very happy day, indeed, it was when, returning 
 from her visit to the Fleet, she found in her mother's 
 sitting-room her dear grand rosewood piano, and every 
 one of her music-books, which the kind-hearted tailor 
 had purchased at the sale of Walker's effects. And I 
 am not ashamed to say, that Morgiana herself was so 
 charmed, that when as usual, Mr. Woolsey came to 
 drink tea in the evening, she actually gave him a kiss, 
 which frightened Mr. Woolsey, and made him blush 
 exceedingly. She sat down, and played him that even- 
 ing every one of the songs which he liked — the old 
 songs — none of your Italian stuff. Podmore, the old 
 music- master, was there too; and was delighted and 
 astonished at the progress in singing which Morgiana 
 had made ; and when the little party separated, he took 
 Mr. Woolsey by the hand, and said, " Give me leave to 
 tell you, sir, that you're a trump" 
 
 " That he is," said Canterfield, the first tragic ; " an 
 honour to human nature. A man whose hand is open 
 as day to melting charity, and whose heart ever melts 
 at the tale of woman's distress." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonesense, sir," said the 
 tailor ; but, upon my word, Mr. Canterfield's words 
 were perfectly correct. I wish as much could be said in 
 favour of Woolsey's old rival, Mr. Eglantine, who at- 
 tended the sale too, but it was with a horrid kind of 
 satisfaction at the thought that Walker was ruined. 
 He bought the yellow satin sofa before mentioned, and 
 transferred it to what he calls his " sitting-room," where 
 it is to this day, bearing many marks of the best bears'- 
 grease. Woolsey bid against Baroski for the piano, 
 very nearly up to the actual value of the instrument, 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 163 
 
 when the artist withdrew from competition ; and when 
 he was sneering at the ruin of Mr. Walker, the tailor 
 sternly interrupted him by saying, " What the deuce 
 are you sneering at ? You did it, sir ; and you're paid 
 every shilling of your claim, ain't you ?" On which 
 Baroski turned round to Miss Larkins, and said, " Mr. 
 Woolsey was a ' snop ;' " the very words, though pro- 
 nounced somewhat differently, which the gallant Cornet 
 Fipkin had applied to him. 
 
 Well ; so he was a snob. But, vulgar as he was, T 
 declare, for my part, that I have a greater respect for 
 Mr. Woolsey than for any single nobleman or gentle- 
 man mentioned in this true history. 
 
 It will be seen from the names of Messrs. Canter- 
 field and Podmore that Morgiana was again in the midst 
 of the widow Crump's favourite theatrical society ; and 
 this, indeed, was the case. The widow's little room 
 was hung round with the pictures which were mention- 
 ed at the commencement of the story as decorating the 
 bar of the Bootjack ; and several times in a week she 
 received her friends from the Wells, and entertained 
 them with such humble refreshments of tea and crumpets 
 as her modest means permitted her to purchase. Among 
 these persons Morgiana lived and sung quite as con- 
 tentedly as she had ever done among the demireps of 
 her husband's society ; and, only she did not dare to 
 own it to herself, was a great deal happier than she had 
 been for many a day. Mrs. Captain Walker was still 
 a great lady amongst them. Even in his time, Walker, 
 the director of three companies, and the owner of the 
 splendid pony-chaise, was to these simple persons an 
 awful character ; and when mentioned, they talked with 
 
164 men's wives. 
 
 a great deal of gravity of his being in the country, and 
 hoped Mrs. Captain W. had good news of him. They 
 all knew he was in the Fleet ; but had he not in prison 
 fought a duel with a viscount ? Montmorency (of the 
 Norfolk circuit) was in the Fleet too ; and when Canter- 
 field went to see poor Montey, the latter had pointed 
 out Walker to his friend, who actually hit Lord George 
 Tennison across the shoulders in play with a racket-bat ; 
 which event was soon made known to the whole green- 
 room. 
 
 " They had me up one day," said Montmorency, 
 " to sing a comic song, and give my recitations ; and 
 we had champagne and lobster-salad ; such nobs !" add- 
 ed the player. " Billingsgate and Vauxhall were there 
 too, and left college at eight o'clock." 
 
 When Morgiana was told of the circumstance by 
 her mother, she hoped her dear Howard had enjoyed 
 the evening, and was thankful that for once he could 
 forget his sorrows. Nor, somehow, was she ashamed of 
 herself for being happy afterwards, but gave way to her 
 natural good humour without repentance or self-rebuke. 
 I believe, indeed (alas ! why are we made acquainted 
 with the same fact regarding ourselves long after it is 
 past and gone ?) — I believe these were the happiest 
 days of Morgiana's whole life. She had no cares except 
 the pleasant one of attending on her husband, an easy, 
 smiling temperament which made her regardless of to- 
 morrow ; and add to this a delightful hope relative to a 
 certain interesting event which was about to occur, and 
 which I shall not particularise further than by saying, 
 that she was cautioned against too much singing by Mr. 
 Squills, her medical attendant ; and that widow Crump 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 165 
 
 was busy making* up a vast number of little caps and 
 diminutive cambric shirts, such as delighted grand- 
 mothers are in the habit of fashioning. I hope this is 
 as genteel a way of signifying the circumstance which 
 was about to take place in the Walker family as Miss 
 Prim herself could desire. Mrs. Walker's mother was 
 about to become a grandmother. There's a phrase ! 
 The Morning Post, which says this story is vulgar, I'm 
 sure cannot quarrel with that I don't believe the whole 
 Court Guide would convey an intimation more delicately. 
 
 Well, Mrs. Crump's little grandchild was born, en- 
 tirely to the dissatisfaction, I must say, of his father ; 
 who, when the infant was brought to him in the Fleet, 
 had him abruptly covered up in his cloak again, from 
 which he had been removed by the jealous prison door- 
 keepers ; why, do you think ? Walker had a quarrel 
 with one of them, and the wretch persisted in believing 
 that the bundle Mrs. Crump was bringing to her son-in- 
 law was a bundle of disguised brandy ! 
 
 " The brutes !" said the lady ; " and the father's a 
 brute too," said she. " He takes no more notice of me 
 than if I was a kitchen-maid, and of Woolsey than if 
 he was a leg of mutton — the dear, blessed, little cherub !" 
 
 Mrs. Crump was a mother-in-law ; let us pardon her 
 hatred of her daughter's husband. 
 
 The Woolsey compared in the above sentence both 
 to a leg of mutton and a cherub, was not the eminent 
 member of the firm of Lindsey, Woolsey, and Co., but 
 the little baby, who was christened Howard Woolsey 
 Walker, with the full consent of the father, who said the 
 tailor was a deuced good fellow, and felt really obliged 
 to him for the sherry, for a frock-coat which he lot him 
 
166 men's wives. 
 
 have in prison, and for his kindness to Morgiana. The 
 tailor loved the little boy with all his soul ; he attended 
 his mother to her churching, and the child to the font ; 
 and, as a present to his little godson on his christening, 
 he sent two yards of the finest white kerseymere in his 
 shop to make him a cloak. The duke had had a pair 
 of inexpressibles off that very piece. 
 
 House-furniture is bought and sold, music-lessons 
 are given, children are born and christened, ladies are 
 confined and churched — time, in other words, passes, — 
 and yet Captain Walker still remains in prison ! Does 
 it not seem strange that he should still languish there 
 between palisaded walls near Fleet Market, and that 
 he should not be restored to that active and fashionable 
 world of which he was an ornament ? The fact is, the 
 captain had been before the court for the examination 
 of his debts ; and the commissioners, with a cruelty 
 quite shameful towards a fallen man, had qualified his 
 ways of getting money in most severe language, and had 
 sent him back to prison again for the space of nine cal- 
 endar months, an indefinite period, and until his accounts 
 could be made up. This delay Walker bore like a 
 philosopher, and, far from repining, was still the gayest 
 fellow of the tennis-court, and the soul of the midnight 
 carouse. 
 
 There is no use in raking up old stories, and hunting 
 through files of dead newspapers, to know what were 
 the specific acts which made the commissioner so angry 
 with Captain Walker. Many a rogue has come before 
 the court, and passed through it since then; and I 
 would lay a wager that Howard Walker was not a bit 
 worse than his neighbours. But as he was not a lord, 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 1G7 
 
 and as he had no friends on coming out of prison, and 
 had settled no money on his wife, and had, as it must 
 be confessed, an exceedingly bad character, it is not 
 likely that the latter would be forgiven him when once 
 more free in the world. For instance, when Double- 
 quits left the Fleet, he was received with open arms by 
 his family, and had two-and-thirty horses in his stables 
 before a week was over. Pam, of the Dragoons, came 
 out, and instantly got a place as government courier, — 
 a place found so good of late years (and no wonder, it 
 is better pay than that of a colonel), that our noblemen 
 and gentry eagerly press for it. Frank Hurricane was 
 sent out as registrar of Tobago, or Sago, or Ticondera- 
 go ; in fact, for a younger son of good family it is rather 
 advantageous to get into debt twenty or thirty thousand 
 pounds ; you are are sure of a good place afterwards 
 in the colonies. Your friends are so anxious to get rid 
 of you, that they will move heaven and earth to serve 
 you. And so all the above companions of misfortune 
 with Walker were speedily made comfortable ; but he 
 had no rich parents ; his old father was dead in York 
 jail. How was he to start in the world again ? What 
 friendly hand was there to fill his pocket with gold, and 
 his cup with sparkling champagne ? He was, in fact, 
 an object of the greatest pity, — for I know of no greater 
 than a gentleman of his habits without the means of 
 gratifying them. He must live well, and he has not 
 the means. Is there a more pathetic case ? As for 
 a mere low beggar — some labourless labourer, or some 
 weaver out of place — don't let us throw away our com- 
 passion upon them. Psha! they're accustomed to 
 starve. They can sleep upon boards, or dine off a 
 
168 men's wives. 
 
 crust ; whereas, a gentleman would die in the same sit- 
 uation. I think this was poor Morgiana's way of rea- 
 soning. 
 
 For Walker's cash in prison beginning presently to 
 run low, and knowing quite well that the dear fellow 
 could not exist there without the luxuries to which he 
 had been accustomed, she borrowed money from her 
 mother, until the poor old lady was a sec. She even 
 confessed, with tears, to Woolsey, that she was in par- 
 ticular want of twenty pounds, to pay a poor milliner, 
 whose debt she could not bear to put in her husband's 
 schedule. And I need not say she carried the money 
 to her husband, who might have been greatly benefited 
 by it, — only he had a bad run of luck at the cards ; 
 and how the deuce can a man help that ? 
 
 Woolsey had repurchased for her one of the Cash- 
 mere shawls. She left it behind her one day at the 
 Fleet prison, and some rascal stole it there, having the 
 grace, however, to send Woolsey the ticket, signifying 
 the place where it had been pawned. Who could the 
 scoundrel have been ? Woolsey swore a great oath 
 and fancied he knew ; but if it was Walker himself (as 
 Woolsey fancied, and probably as was the case) who 
 made away with the shawl, being pressed thereto by 
 necessity, was it fair to call him a scoundrel for so doing, 
 and should we not rather laud the delicacy of his pro- 
 ceeding ? He was poor ; who can command the cards ? 
 but he did not wish his wife should know how poor ; he 
 could not bear that she should suppose him arrived at 
 the necessity of pawning a shawl. 
 
 She who had such beautiful ringlets of a sudden 
 pleaded cold in the head, took to wearing caps. One 
 
THE HAVEN SWING. 169 
 
 summer evening, as she and the baby and Mrs. Crump 
 and Woolsey (let us say all four babies together) were 
 laughing and playing in Mrs. Crump's drawing-room — 
 playing the most absurd gambols, fat Mrs. Crump, for 
 instance, hiding behind the sofa, Woolsey chuck-chuck- 
 ing, cock-a-doodle-doing, and performing those inde- 
 scribable freaks which gentlemen with philoprogenitive 
 organs will execute in the company of children, in the 
 midst of their play the baby gave a tug at his mother's 
 cap ; off it came — her hair was cut close to her head. 
 
 Morgiana turned as red as sealing-wax, and trembled 
 very much ; Mrs. Crump screamed, " My child, where 
 is your hair V and Woolsey bursting out with a most 
 tremendous oath against Walker that would send 
 Miss Prim into convulsions, put his handkerchief to his 
 face, and actually wept. " The infernal bubble-ubble- 
 ackguard !" said he, roaring and clenching his fists. 
 
 As he had passed the Bower of Bloom a few days 
 before, he saw Mossrose, who was combing out a jet- 
 black ringlet, and held it up as if for Woolsey's exam- 
 ination, with a peculiar grin. The tailor did not under- 
 stand the joke, but he saw now what had happened. 
 Morgiana had sold her hair for five guineas ; she would 
 have sold her arm had her husband bidden her. On 
 looking in her drawers it was found she had sold almost 
 all her wearing apparel ; the child's clothes were all 
 there, however. It was because her husband talked of 
 flisposing of a gilt coral that the child had, that she had 
 parted with the locks which had formed her pride. 
 
 " I'll give you twenty guineas for that hair, you in- 
 famous fat coward," roared the little tailor to Eglantine 
 
 that evening. " Give it up, or I'll kill you — me " 
 
 8 
 
170 men's wives. 
 
 " Mr. Mossrose ! Mr. Mossrose !" shouted the per- 
 fumer. 
 
 " Yell, vatsh de matter, vatsh de row, fight avay, 
 my boys ; two to one on the tailor," said Mr. Mossrose. 
 much enjoying the sport (for Woolsey, striding through 
 the shop without speaking to him, had rushed into the 
 studio, where he plumped upon Eglantine). 
 
 " Tell him about that hair, sir." 
 
 " That hair ! Now keep yourself quiet, Mister Tim- 
 ble, and don't tink for to bully me. You mean Mrs. 
 Yalker's 'air ? Yj, she sold it me." 
 
 " And the more blackguard you for buying it ? 
 Will you take twenty guineas for it ?" 
 
 " No," said Mossrose. 
 
 " Twenty-five P 
 
 " Can't," said Mossrose. 
 
 " Hang it ; will you take forty ? There." 
 
 " I vish I'd kep it," said the Hebrew gentleman, 
 with unfeigned regret, " Eglantine dressed it this very 
 night." 
 
 " For Countess Baldenstiern, the Swedish Hambasa- 
 dor's lady," says Eglantine (his Hebrew partner was by 
 no means a favourite with the ladies, and only superin- 
 tended the accounts of the concern). " It's this very 
 night at Devonshire 'Ouse, with four hostrich plumes, 
 lappets, and trimmings. And now, Mr. Woolsey, I'll 
 trouble you to apologise." 
 
 Mr. Woolsey did not answer, but walked up to Mr. 
 Eglantine and snapped his fingers so close under the 
 perfumer's nose that the latter started back and seized 
 the bell-rope. Mossrose burst out laughing, and the 
 tailor walked majestically from the shop with both hands 
 stuck between the lappets of his coat, 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 17 1 
 
 " My dear," said he to Morgiana a short time after- 
 wards, " you must not encourage that husband of yours 
 in his extravagance, and sell the clothes off youi poor 
 back, that he may feast and act the fine gentleman in 
 prison." 
 
 " It is his health, poor dear soul !" interposed Mrs. 
 Walker, "his chest. Every farthing of the money 
 goes to the doctors, poor fellow I" 
 
 "Well, now listen : I am a rich man (it was a great 
 fib, for Woolsey's income, as a junior partner of the 
 firm, was but a small one) ; I can very well afford to 
 make him an allowance while he is in the Fleet, and 
 have written to him to say so. But if you ever give 
 him a penny, or sell a trinket belonging to you, upon 
 my word and honour, I will withdraw the allowance, 
 and, though it would go to my heart, I'll never see you 
 again. You wouldn't make me unhappy, would you ?" 
 
 " I'd go on my knees to serve you, and Heaven 
 bless you," said the wife. 
 
 " Well, then, you must give me this promise." And 
 she did. "And now," said he, "your mother, and Pod- 
 more, and I, have been talking over matters, and we've 
 agreed that you may make a very good income for your- 
 self, though, to be sure, I wish it could have been man- 
 aged any other way; but needs must, you know. 
 You're the finest singer in the universe." 
 
 " La !" said Morgiana, highly delighted. 
 
 " / never heard anything like you, though I'm no 
 judge. Podmore says he is sure you will do very well, 
 and has no doubt you might get very good engage- 
 ments at concerts or on the stage ; and as that husband 
 will never do any good, and you have a child to sup- 
 port, sing you must." 
 
172 men's wives. 
 
 " Oh ! how glad I should be to pay his debts and 
 repay all he has done for me," cried Mrs. Walker. 
 " Think of his giving two hundred guineas to Mr. Ba- 
 roski to have me taught. Was not that kind of him ? 
 Do you really think I should succeed ?" 
 
 " There's Miss Larkins has succeeded." 
 
 "The little, high-shouldered, vulgar thing!" says 
 Morgiana. " I'm sure I ought to succeed if she did." 
 
 " She sing against Morgiana ?" said Mrs. Crump. 
 " I'd like to see her, indeed ! She ain't fit to snuff a 
 candle to her." 
 
 " I dare say not," said the tailor, " though I don't 
 understand the thing myself; but if Morgiana can make 
 a fortune, why shouldn't she ?" 
 
 " Heaven knows we want it, Woolsey," cried Mrs. 
 Crump. " And to see her on the stage was always the 
 wish of my heart ;" and so it had formerly been the 
 wish of Morgiana, and now, with the hope of helping 
 her husband and child, the wish became a duty, and 
 she fell to practising once more from morning till night. 
 
 One of the most generous of men and tailors who 
 ever lived now promised, if further instruction should 
 be considered necessary (though that he could hardly 
 believe possible), that he would lend Morgiana any sum 
 required for the payment of lessons ; and accordingly 
 she once more betook herself, under Podmore's advice, 
 to the singing school. Baroski's academy was, after the 
 passages between them, out of the question, and she 
 placed herself under the instruction of the excellent 
 English composer Sir George Thrum, whose large and 
 awful wife, Lady Thrum, dragon of virtue and propriety, 
 kept watch over the master and the pupils, and was 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 173 
 
 the sternest guardian of female virtue on or off any 
 stage. 
 
 Morgiana came at a propitious moment. Baroski 
 had lanced Miss Larkins under the name of Ligonier. 
 The Ligonier was enjoying considerable success, and 
 was singing classical music to tolerable audiences, 
 whereas Miss Butts, Sir George's last pupil, had turned 
 out a complete failure, and the rival house was only 
 able to make a faint opposition to the new star with 
 Miss M'Whirter, who, though an old favorite, had lost 
 her upper notes and her front teeth, and, the fact was, 
 drew no longer. 
 
 Directly Sir George heard Mrs. Walker he tapped 
 Podmore, who accompanied her, on the waistcoat, and 
 said, " Poddy, thank you ; we'll cut the orange-boy's 
 throat with that voice." It was by the familiar title of 
 orange-boy that the great Baroski was known among 
 his opponents. 
 
 " We'll crush him, Podmore," said Lady Thrum, in 
 her deep hollow voice. "You may stop and dine." 
 And Podmore stayed to dinner, and ate cold mutton, 
 and drank Marsala with the greatest reverence for the 
 great English composer. The very next day Lady 
 Thrum hired a pair of horses and paid a visit to Mrs. 
 Crump and her daughter at Sadler's Wells. 
 
 All these things were kept profoundly secret from 
 Walker, who received very magnanimously the allow- 
 ance of two guineas a-week which Woolsey made him, 
 and with the aid of the few shillings his wife could 
 bring him, managed to exist as best he might. He did 
 not dislike gin when he could get no claret, and the 
 former liquor, under the name of "tape" used to be 
 
174 men's wives. 
 
 measured out pretty liberally in what was formerly her 
 Majesty's prison of the Fleet. 
 
 Morgiana pursued her studies under Thrum, and we 
 shall hear in the next chapter how it was she changed 
 her name to Raven swing. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 IN WHICH MORGIANA ADVANCES TOWARDS FAME AND 
 HONOUR, AND IN WHICH SEVERAL GREAT LITERARY 
 CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR APPEARANCE. 
 
 " We must begin, my dear madam," said Sir George 
 Thrum, " by unlearning all that Mr. Baroski (of whom 
 I do not wish to speak with the slightest disrespect) 
 has taught you !" 
 
 Morgiana knew that every professor says as much, 
 and submitted to undergo the study requisite for Sir 
 George's system with perfect good grace. An fond, as 
 I was given to understand, the methods of the two art- 
 ists were pretty similar ; but as there was rivalry be- 
 tween them, and continual desertion of scholars from 
 one school to another, it was fair for each to take all 
 the credit he could get in the success of any pupil. If 
 a pupil failed, for instance, Thrum would say Baroski 
 had 'spoiled her irretrievably ; while the German would 
 regret " Dat dat yong voman, who had a good organ, 
 should have trown away her dime wid dat old Drum." 
 When one of these deserters succeeded, " Yes, yes," 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 175 
 
 would either professor cry, " I formed her, she owes her 
 fortune to me." Both of them thus, in future days, 
 claimed the education of the famous Ravenswing ; and 
 even Sir George Thrum, though he wished to termer 
 the Ligonier, pretended that her present success was his 
 work, because once she had been brought by her mother, 
 Mrs. Larkins, to sing for Sir George's approval. 
 
 When the two professors met it was with the most 
 delighted cordiality on the part of both. " Mein lieber 
 Herr" Thrum w r ould say (with some malice), " your 
 sonata in x flat is divine." " Chevalier," Baroski would 
 reply, " dat andante movement in w is worthy of Bee- 
 thoven. I gif you my sacred honour," and so forth. 
 In fact, they loved each other, as gentlemen in their 
 profession always do. 
 
 The two famous professors conduct their academies 
 on very opposite principles. Baroski writes ballet mu- 
 sic ; Thrum, on the contrary, says u he cannot but de- 
 plore the dangerous fascinations of the dance," and 
 writes more for Exeter Hall and Birmingham. "While 
 Baroski drives a cab in the park with a very suspicious 
 Mademoiselle Leocadie, or Amenaide, by his side, you 
 may see Thrum walking to evening church with his 
 lady, and hymns are sung there of his own composition. 
 He belongs to the Athenaeum Club, he goes to the 
 levee once a-year, he does every thing that a respectable 
 man should, and if, by the means of this respectability, 
 he manages to make his little trade far more profitable 
 than it otherwise would be, are we to quarrel with him 
 for it ? 
 
 Sir George, in fact, had every reason to be respecta- 
 ble. He had been a choir-boy at Windsor, had played 
 
176 men's wives. 
 
 to the old king's violoncello, had been intimate with 
 him, and had received knighthood at the hand of his 
 revered sovereign. He had a snuff-box which his ma- 
 jesty gave him, and portraits of him and the young 
 princes all over the house. He had also a foreign order 
 (no other, indeed, than the Elephant and Castle of 
 .Kalbsbraten-Pumpernichel) conferred upon him by the 
 Grand Duke when here with the allied sovereigns in 
 1814. With this riband round his neck, on gala days, 
 and in a white waistcoat, the old gentleman looked 
 splendid as he moved along in a Windsor button, and 
 neat black small-clothes, and silk stockings. He lived 
 in an old, tall, dingy house, furnished in the reign of 
 George III., his beloved master, and not much more 
 cheerful now than a family vault. They are awfully 
 funereal those ornaments of the close of the last century, 
 — tall, gloomy, horse-hair chairs, mouldy Turkey car- 
 pets, with wretched druggets to guard them, little 
 cracked sticking-plaster miniatures of people in tours 
 and pig-tails over high-shouldered mantel-pieces, two 
 dismal urns on each side of a lanky side-board, and 
 in the midst a queer twisted receptacle for worn-out 
 knives with green handles. Under the side-board 
 stands a cellaret that looks as if it held half a bottle of 
 currant wine, and a shivering plate-warmer that never 
 could get any comfort out of the wretched old cramped 
 grate yonder. Don't you know in such houses the 
 gray gloom that hangs over the stairs, the dull-coloured 
 old carpet that winds its way up the same, growing 
 thinner, duller, and more threadbare, as it mounts to 
 the bed-room floors ? There is something awful in the 
 bed-room of a respectable old couple of sixty- five. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 177 
 
 Think of the old feathers, turbans, bugles, petticoats, 
 pomatum-pots, spencers, white satin shoes, false fronts, 
 the old flaccid, boneless stays tied up in faded riband, 
 the dusky fans, the old forty years' old baby-linen, the 
 letters of Sir George when he was young, poor Murza's 
 doll, who died in 1803, Frederick's first corduroy 
 breeches, and the newspaper which contains the account 
 of his distinguishing himself at the siege of Seringa- 
 patam. All these lie somewhere damp and squeezed 
 down into glum old presses and wardrobes. At that 
 glass the wife has sat many times these fifty years ; in 
 that old morocco bed her children were born. Where 
 are they now ? Fred, the brave captain, and Charles, 
 the saucy colleger ; there hangs a drawing of him done 
 by Mr. Beechy, and that sketch by Cosway was the 
 very likeness of Louisa before * * * * * * 
 
 " Mr. Fitz-Boodle ! for Heaven's sake come down. 
 What are you doing in a lady's bed-room ?" 
 
 " The fact is, madam, I had no business there in 
 life, but, having had quite enough wine with Sir George, 
 my thoughts had wandered up-stairs into the sanctuary 
 of female excellence, where your ladyship nightly reposes. 
 You do not sleep so well now as in old days, though 
 there is no patter of little steps to wake you overhead." 
 
 They call that room the nursery still, and the little 
 wicket still hangs at the upper stairs ; it has been there 
 ! )i' forty years — bon Dieu ! Can't you see the ghosts 
 »i| little fans peering over it? I wonder whether they 
 £St up in the night as the moonlight shines into the 
 blank, vacant old room, and play there solemnly with 
 little ghostly horses, and the spirits of dolls, and tops 
 that turn and turn, but don't hum. 
 
178 men's \yives. 
 
 Once more, sir, come down to the lower story — that 
 is, to the Morgiana story — with which the above sen- 
 tences have no more to do than this morning's leading 
 article in The Times ; only it was at this house of Sir 
 George Thrum's that I met Morgiana. Sir George, in 
 old days, had instructed some of the female members 
 of our family, and I recollect cutting my fingers as a 
 child with one of these attenuated green-handled knives 
 in the queer box yonder. 
 
 In those days Sir George Thrum was the first great 
 musical teacher of London, and the royal patronage 
 brought him a great number of fashionable pupils, of 
 whom Lady Fitz-Boodle was one. It was a long, long 
 time ago ; in fact, Sir George Thrum was old enough 
 to remember persons who had been present at Mr. 
 Braham's first appearance, and the old gentleman's days 
 of triumph had been those of Billington and Incledon, 
 Catalani and Madame Storace. 
 
 He was the author of several operas (The Camel 
 Driver, Britons Alarmed ; or, the Siege of Bergen-op- 
 Zoom, <fec, &c.), and, of course, of songs which had 
 considerable success in their day, but are forgotten now, 
 and are as much faded and out of fashion as those old 
 carpets which we have described in the professor's 
 house, and which were, doubtless, very brilliant once. 
 But such is the fate of carpets, of flowers, of music, of 
 men, and of the most admirable novels — even this story 
 will not be alive for many centuries. Well, well, why 
 struggle against Fate ? 
 
 But, though his hey-day of fashion was gone, Sir 
 George still held his place among the musicians of the 
 old school, conducted occasionally at the Ancient Con- 
 
Tlii. RAVEN SWING. 170 
 
 certs and the Philharmonic, and his glees are still fa- 
 vourites after public dinners, and are sung by those old 
 bacchanalians, in chestnut wigs, who attend for the 
 purposes of amusing the guests on such occasions of 
 festivity. The great old people at the gloomy old con- 
 certs before mentioned always pay Sir George marked 
 respect ; and, indeed, from the old gentleman's peculiar 
 behaviour to his superiors it is impossible they should 
 not be delighted with him, so he leads at almost every 
 one of the concerts in the old-fashioned houses in town. 
 
 Becomingly obsequious to his superiors, he is with 
 the rest of the world properly majestic, and has obtained 
 no small success by his admirable and undeviating 
 respectability. Respectability has been his great card 
 through life ; ladies can trust their daughters at Sir 
 George Thrum's academy. "A good musician, mad- 
 am," says he to the mother of a new pupil, "should not 
 only have a fine ear, a good voice, and an indomitable 
 industry, but, above all, a faultless character — faultless, 
 that is, as far as our poor nature will permit. And you 
 will remark that those young persons with whom your 
 lovely daughter, Miss Smith, will pursue her musical 
 studies, are all, in a moral point of view, as spotless as 
 that charming young lady. How should it be other- 
 wise ? I have been myself the father of a family ; I 
 have been honoured with the intimacy of the wisest 
 and best of kings, my late sovereign George III., and 
 I can proudly show an example of decorum to my 
 pupils in my Sophia. Mrs. Smith, I have the honour 
 of introducing to you my Lady Thrum." 
 
 The old lady would rise at this, and make a gigantic 
 courtesy, such a one as had begun the minuet at Rane- 
 
ISO men's wives. 
 
 lagh fifty years ago ; and, the introduction ended, Mrs. 
 Smith would retire, after having seen the portraits of 
 the princes, his late majesty's snuff-box, and a piece of 
 music which he used to play, noted by himself — Mrs. 
 Smith, I say, would drive back to Baker Street delighted 
 to think that her Frederica had secured so eligible and 
 respectable a master. I forgot to say that, during the 
 interview between Mrs. Smith and Sir George, the latter 
 would be called out of his study by his black servant, 
 and my Lady Thrum would take that opportunity of 
 mentioning when he was knighted, and how he got his 
 foreign order, and deploring the sad condition of other 
 musical professors, and the dreadful immorality which 
 sometimes arose in consequence of their laxness. Sir 
 George was a good deal engaged to dinners in the sea- 
 son, and if invited to dine with a nobleman, as he might 
 possibly be on the day when Mrs. Smith requested the 
 honour of his company, he would write back " that he 
 should have had the sincerest happiness in waiting upon 
 Mrs. Smith in Baker Street, if, previously, my Lord 
 Tweedledale had not been so kind as to engage him." 
 This letter, of course shown by Mrs. Smith to her 
 friends, was received by them with proper respect ; and 
 thus, in spite of age and new fashions, Sir George still 
 reigned pre-eminent for a mile round Cavendish Square. 
 By the young pupils of the Academy he was called Sir 
 Charles Grandison, and, indeed, fully deserved this title 
 on account of the "indomitable respectability" of his 
 whole actions. 
 
 It was under this gentleman that Morgiana made 
 her debut in public life. I do not know what arrange- 
 ments may have been made between Sir George Thrum 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 181 
 
 and his pupil regarding the profits which were to accrue 
 to the former from engagements procured by him for 
 the latter ; but there was, no doubt, an understanding 
 between them. For Sir George, respectable as he was, 
 had the reputation of being extremely clever at a bar- 
 gain ; and Lady Thrum herself, in her great high- 
 tragedy way, could purchase a pair of soles or select a 
 leg of mutton with the best housekeeper in London. 
 
 When, however, Morgiana had been for some six 
 months under his tuition, he began for some reason or 
 other to be exceedingly hospitable, and invited his 
 friends to numerous entertainments, at one of which. 
 as I have said, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. 
 Walker. 
 
 Although the w r orthy musician's dinners were not 
 good, the old knight had some excellent wine in his 
 cellar, and his arrangement of his party deserves to be 
 commended. 
 
 For instance, he meets me and Bob Fitz-Urse in 
 Pall Mall, at whose paternal house he was also a visitor. 
 "My dear young gentlemen," says he, "will you come 
 and dine with a poor musical composer? I have some 
 comet-hock, and, what is more curious to you perhaps 
 as men of wit, one or two of the great literary characters 
 of London whom you would like to see — quite curiosi- 
 ties, my dear young friends." And we agreed to go. 
 
 To the literary men he says, " I have a little quiet 
 party at home, Lord Roundtowers, the Honourable Mr. 
 Fitz-Urse of the Life Guards, and a few more. Can you 
 tear yourself away from the war of wits, and take a 
 quiet dinner with a few mere men about town 2" 
 
 The literary men instantly purchase new satin stocks 
 
MEN S WIVES. 
 
 and white gloves, arid are delighted to fancy themselves 
 members of the world of fashion. Instead of inviting 
 twelve Royal Academicians, or a dozen authors, or a 
 dozen men of science to dinner, as his Grace the Duke 
 
 of , and the Right Honourable Sir Robert , 
 
 are in the habit of doing once a-year, this plan of fusion 
 is the one they should adopt. JSTot invite all artists, as 
 they would invite all farmers to a rent-dinner ; but they 
 should have a proper commingling of artists and men 
 of the world. There is one of the latter whose name is 
 
 George Savage Fitz-Boodle, who But let us return 
 
 to Sir George Thrum. 
 
 Fitz-Urse and I arrive at the dismal old house, and 
 are conducted up the staircase by a black servant, who 
 shouts out, " Missa Fiss-Boodle — the Honourable Missa 
 Fiss-XJrse !" It was evident that Lady Thrum had 
 instructed the swarthy groom of the chambers (for there 
 is nothing particularly honourable in my friend Fitz's 
 face that I know of, unless an abominable squint may 
 be said to be so). Lady Thrum, whose figure is some- 
 thing like that of the shot-tower opposite Waterloo 
 Bridge, makes a majestic inclination and a speech to 
 signify her pleasure at receiving under her roof two of 
 the children of Sir George's best pupils. A lady in 
 black velvet is seated by the old fireplace, with whom 
 a stout gentleman in an exceedingly light coat and 
 ornamental waistcoat is talking very busily. "The 
 great star of the night," whispers our host. "Mrs. 
 Walker, gentlemen — the Ravenswing ! She is talking 
 to the famous Mr. Slang, of the theatre." 
 
 " Is she a fine singer ?" says Fitz-Urse. " She's a 
 very fine woman." 
 
THE HAVEXSWING. 183 
 
 " My dear young friends, you shall hear to-night ! 
 I, who have heard every fine voice in Europe, confidently 
 pledge my respectability that the Ravens wing is equal 
 to them all. She has the graces, sir, of a Venus with the 
 mind of a muse. She is a syren, sir, without the danger- 
 ous qualities of one. She is hallowed, sir, by her misfor- 
 tunes as by her genius ; and I am proud to think that 
 my instructions have been the means of developing the 
 wondrous qualities that were latent within her until now." 
 
 " You don't say so !" says gobemouche Fitz-Urse. 
 
 Having thus indoctrinated Mr. Fitz-Urse, Sir George 
 takes another of his guests, and proceeds to work upon 
 him, " My dear Mr. Bludyer, how do you do ? Mr. 
 Fitz-Boodle, Mr. Bludyer, the brilliant and accomplished 
 wit, whose sallies in the Tomahawk delight us every 
 Saturday. Nay, no blushes, my dear sir ; you are very 
 wicked, but oh ! so pleasant. Well, Mr. Bludyer, I am 
 glad to see you, sir, and hope you will have a favourable 
 opinion of our genius, sir. As I was saying to Mr. Fitz- 
 Boodle, she has the graces of a Venus with the mind of 
 a muse. She is a syren, without the dangerous qualities 
 of one," &c. This little speech was made to half-a-dozen 
 persons in the course of the evening — persons, for the 
 most part, connected with the public journals or the 
 theatrical world. There was Mr. Squinny, the editor of 
 the Flowers of Fashion ; Mr. Dermond Mulligan, the 
 poet, and reporter for a morning paper ; and other 
 worthies of their calling. For though Sir George is a 
 respectable man, and as high-minded and moral an old 
 gentleman as ever wore knee-buckles, he does not neg- 
 lect the little arts of popularity, and can condescend to 
 receive very queer company if need be. 
 
184 MEN'S WIVES. 
 
 For instance, at the dinner-party at which I had the 
 honour of assisting, and at which on the right hand of 
 Lady Thrum sat the oblige nobleman, whom the Thrums 
 were a great deal too wise to omit (the sight of a lord 
 does good to us commoners, or why else should we be 
 so anxious to have one ?). In the second place of hon- 
 our, and on her ladyship's left hand, sat Mr. Slang, the 
 manager of one of the theatres, a gentleman whom my 
 Lady Thrum would scarcely, but for a great necessity's 
 sake, have been induced to invite to her table. He 
 had the honour of leading Mrs. Walker to dinner, who 
 looked splendid in black velvet and a turban, full of 
 health and smiles. 
 
 Lord Roundtowers is an old gentleman who has been 
 at the theatres five times a-week for these fifty years, a 
 living dictionary of the stage, recollecting every actor 
 and actress who has appeared upon it for half a century. 
 He perfectly well remembered Miss Delaney in Morgi- 
 ana ; he knew what had become of Ali Baba, and how 
 Cassim had left the stage, and was now the keeper of 
 a public-house. All this store of knowledge he kept 
 quietly to himself, or only delivered in confidence to his 
 next neighbour in the intervals of the banquet, which 
 he enjoys prodigiously. He lives at an hotel : if not 
 invited to dine, eats a mutton chop very humbly at his 
 club, and finishes his evening after the play at Crock- 
 ford's, whither he goes not for the sake of the play but 
 of the supper there. He is described in the Court 
 Guide as of Simmer's Hotel, and of Roundtowers, 
 County Cork. It is said that the round towers really 
 exist. But he has not been in Ireland since the rebel- 
 lion ; and his property is so hampered with ancestral 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 185 
 
 mortgages, and rent-charges, and annuities, that his in- 
 come is barely sufficient to provide the modest mutton- 
 chop before alluded to. He has, any time these fifty 
 years, lived in the wretchedest company in London, and 
 is, withal, as harmless, mild, good-natured, innocent an 
 old gentleman, as can readily be seen. 
 
 " Roundy," shouts the elegant Mr. Slang across the 
 table, with a voice which makes Lady Thrum shudder, 
 " Tuff, a glass of wine." 
 
 My lord replies meekly, " Mr. Slang, I shall have 
 very much pleasure. What shall it be V 
 
 "There is Maderia near you, my lord," says my 
 lady, pointing to a tall thin decanter of the fashion of 
 the year. 
 
 " Madeira ! Marsala, by Jove, your ladyship means ?" 
 shouts Mr. Slang. " No, no, old birds are not caught 
 with chaff. Thrum, old boy, let's have some of your 
 comet-hock." 
 
 " My Lady Thrum, I believe that is Marsala," says 
 the knight, blushing a little, in reply to a question from 
 his Sophia. " Ajax, the hock to Mr. Slang." 
 
 " I'm in that," yells Bludyer from the end of the 
 table. " My lord, I'll join you." 
 
 " Mr. , I beg your pardon — I shall be very 
 
 happy to take wine with you, sir." 
 
 " It is Mr. Bludyer, the celebrated newspaper- 
 writer," whispers Lady Thrum. 
 
 "Bludyer, Bludyer? A very clever man, I dare 
 say. He has a very loud voice, and reminds me of 
 Brett. Does your ladyship remember Brett who played 
 the Fathers at the Haymarket in 1802 ?" 
 
 " What an old stupid Roundtowers is !" says Slang. 
 
186 men's wives. 
 
 archly, nudging Mrs. Walker in the side. "How'* 
 Walker, eh ?" 
 
 " My husband is in the country," replied Mrs. 
 Walker, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Gammon ! / know where he is ! Law bless you ! 
 — don't blush. I've been there myself a dozen times. 
 We were talking about quod, Lady Thrum. Were you 
 ever in college J" 
 
 " I was at the Commemoration at Oxford in 1814, 
 when the sovereigns were there, and at Cambridge 
 when Sir George received his degree of Doctor of 
 Music." 
 
 " Laud, laud, thats not the college we mean." 
 
 " There is also the college in Gower Street, where 
 my grandson " 
 
 " This is the college in Queer Street, ma'am, haw, 
 haw ! Mulligan, you divole (in an Irish accent), a 
 glass of wine with you. Wine, here, you waiter ! 
 What's your name, you black nigger ? ' Possum up a 
 gum-tree, eh ? Fill him up. Dere he go" (imitating 
 the Mandingo manner of speaking English). 
 
 In this agreeable way would Mr. Slang rattle on, 
 speedily making himself the centre of the conversation, 
 and addressing graceful familiarities to all the gentle- 
 men and ladies round him. And if his stories during 
 dinner are such as to make ladies present look ex- 
 tremely awkward, when the ladies withdraw, he has a 
 collection of tales with which he instantly commences, 
 and which surpasses all historiettes ever heard. 
 
 It was good to see how the little knight, the most 
 moral and calm of men, was compelled to receive these 
 stories, and the frightened air with which at the con- 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 187 
 
 elusion of one of them, he would venture upon a com- 
 mendatory grin. His lady, on her part, too, had been 
 laboriously civil ; and, on the occasion on which I had 
 the honour of meeting this gentleman and Mrs. Walker, 
 it was the latter who gave the signal for the withdraw- 
 ing to the lady of the house, by saying, " I think, Lady 
 Thrum, it is quite time for us to retire." Some exqui- 
 site joke of Mr. Slang's was the cause of this abrupt 
 disappearance. 
 
 " Don't go, Mrs. Walker," says he, laying hold of 
 her scarf ; " don't be off yet. It's only my fun." But 
 Morgiana left the room indignantly ; and as they went 
 up stairs to the drawing-room, Lady Thrum took oc- 
 casion to say, " My dear, in the course of your pro- 
 fession you will have to submit to many such famili- 
 arities on the part of persons of low breeding, such as I 
 fear Mr. Slana' is. But let me caution you against 
 giving way to your temper as you did. Did you not 
 perceive that / never allowed him to see my inward 
 dissatisfaction ] And I make it a particular point that 
 you should be very civil to him to-night. Your interests 
 — our interests — depend upon it." 
 
 " And are my interests to make me civil to a 
 wretch like that ?" 
 
 '• Mrs. Walker, would you wish to give lessons in 
 morality and behaviour to Lady Thrum?" said the old 
 lady, drawing herself up with great dignity. It was 
 evident that she had a very strong desire indeed to con- 
 ciliate Mr. Slang ; and hence I have no doubt that Sir 
 George was to have a considerable share of Morgiana's 
 earnings. 
 
 Mr. Bludyer, the famous editor of The Tomahawk, 
 
188 men's wives. 
 
 whose jokes Sir George pretended to admire so much 
 (Sir George, who never made a joke in his life), was a 
 press bravo of considerable talent and no principle, and 
 who, to use his own words, would " back himself for a 
 slashing article against any man in England !" He 
 would not only write, but fight on a pinch, was a good 
 scholar and as savage in his manner as with his pen. 
 Mr. Squinny is of exactly the opposite school, as delicate 
 as milk and water, harmless in his habits, fond of the 
 flute when the state of his chest would allow him, a 
 great practiser of waltzing and dancing in general, and 
 in his journal mildly malicious. He never goes beyond 
 the bounds of politeness, but manages to insinuate a 
 great deal that is disagreeable to an author in the 
 course of twenty lines of criticism. Personally he is 
 quite respectable, and lives with two maiden aunts at 
 Brompton. Nobody, on the contrary, knows where 
 Mr. Bludyer lives. He has houses of call, mysterious 
 taverns where he may be found at particular hours by 
 those who need him, and where panting publishers are 
 in the habit of hunting him up. For a bottle of wine 
 and a guinea he will write a page of praise or abuse of 
 any man living, or on any subject or on any line of 
 politics. " Hang it, sir," says he, " pay me enough and 
 I will write down my own father !" According to the 
 state of his credit he is dressed either almost in rags, or 
 else in the extremest flush of fashion. With the latter 
 attire he puts on a haughty and aristocratic air, and would 
 slap a duke on the shoulder. If there is one thing 
 more dangerous than to refuse to lend him a sum of 
 money when he asks for it, it is to lend it to him, for he 
 never pays, and never pardons a man to whom he 
 
THE RAVENS WING. 189 
 
 owes. " Walker refused to cash a bill for me," he had 
 been heard to say, " and I'll do for his wife when she 
 comes out on the stage !" Mrs. Walker and Sir George 
 Thrum were in an agony about the Tomahaivk, hence 
 the latter's invitation to Mr. Bludyer. Sir George was 
 in a great tremor about the Floivers of Fashion, hence 
 his invitation to Mr. Squinny. Mr. Squinny was in- 
 troduced to Lord Roundtowers and Mr. Fitz-Urse as 
 the most delightful and talented of our young men of 
 genius ; and Fitz, who believes every thing any one 
 tells him, was quite pleased to have the honour of sit- 
 ting near the live editor of a paper. 1 have reason to 
 think that Mr. Squinny himself was no less delighted ; 
 he looked incessantly to see that his neighbours' plates 
 were filled and their glasses not empty, and paid them 
 every imaginable attention. I saw him giving his card 
 to Fitz-Urse at the end of the second course. 
 
 No particular attention was paid to Mr. Desmond 
 Mulligan. Political enthusiasm is his forte. He lives 
 and writes in a rapture. He is, of course, a member of 
 an inn of court, and greatly addicted to after-dinner 
 speaking as a preparation for the bar, where as a young 
 man of genius he hopes one day to shine. He is 
 almost the only man to whom Bludyer is civil, for, if 
 the latter will fight doggedly when there is a necessity 
 for so doing, the former fights like an Irishman, and 
 has a pleasure in it. He has been " on the ground" I 
 don't know how many times, and quitted his country 
 on account of a quarrel with government regarding cer- 
 tain articles published by him in the Phoenix news- 
 paper. With the third bottle, he becomes overpower- 
 mgly great on the wrongs of Ireland, and at that period 
 
190 men's wives. 
 
 generally volunteers a couple or more of Irish melodies, 
 selecting the most melancholy in the collection. At five 
 in the afternoon you are sure to- see him about the 
 House of Commons, and he knows the Reform Club 
 (he calls it the Refawrum) as well as if he were a mem- 
 ber. It is curious for the contemplative mind to mark 
 those mysterious hangers-on of Irish members of par- 
 liament — strange runners and aides-de-camp which all 
 the honourable gentlemen appear to possess. Des- 
 mond, in his political capacity, is one of these, and be- 
 sides his calling as reporter to a newspaper, is " our 
 well-informed correspondent" of that famous Munster 
 paper, the Green Flag of Skibbereen. 
 
 With Mr. Mulligan's qualities and history I only 
 became subsequently acquainted. On the present even- 
 ing he made but a brief stay at the dinner-table, being 
 compelled by his professional duties to attend the 
 House of Commons. 
 
 The above formed the party with whom I had the 
 honour to dine. What other repasts Sir George Thrum 
 may have given, what assemblies of men of mere sci- 
 ence he may have invited to give their opinion regard 
 ing his prodigy, what other editors of papers he may 
 have pacified or rendered favourable, who knows ? On 
 the present occasion, we did not quit the dinner-table 
 until Mr. Slang the manager was considerably excited 
 by wine, and music had been heard for some time in 
 the drawing-room over-head during our absence. An 
 addition had been made to the Thrum party by the 
 arrival of several persons to spend the evening, — a man 
 to play on the violin between the singing, a youth to 
 play on the piano, Miss Horseman to sing with Mrs. 
 
THE HAVENS WING. 191 
 
 Walker, and other scientific characters. In a corner 
 sat a red-faced old lady, of whom the mistress of the 
 mansion took little notice ; and a gentleman with a 
 royal button, who blushed and looked exceedingly 
 modest. 
 
 " Hang me !" says Mr. Bludyer, who had perfectly 
 good reasons for recognising Mr. Woolsey, and who on 
 this day chose to assume his aristocratic air, " there's a 
 tailor in the room ! What do they mean by asking 
 me to meet tradesmen ?" 
 
 " Delaney, my dear," cries Slang, entering the 
 room with a reel, " how's your precious health ? Give 
 us your hand ! When are we to be married ? Make 
 loom for me on the sofa, that's a duck !" 
 
 " Get along, Slang," says Mrs. Crump, addressed by 
 the manager by her maiden name (artists generally 
 drop the title of honour which peojDle adopt in the 
 world, and call each other by their simple surnames) — 
 fj get along, Slang, or I'll tell Mrs. S. !" The enterpris- 
 ing manager replies by sportively striking Mrs. Crump 
 on the side a blow which causes a great giggle from the 
 lady insulted, and a most good-humoured threat to box 
 Slang's ears. I fear very much that Morgiana's mother 
 tli ought Mr. Slang an exceedingly gentlemanlike and 
 agreeable person ; besides, she was eager to have his 
 good opinion of Mrs. Walker's singing. 
 
 The manager stretched himself out with much 
 gracefulness on the sofa, supporting two little dumpy 
 legs encased in varnished boots on a chair. 
 
 " Ajax, some tea to Mr. Slang," said my lady, look- 
 ing towards that gentleman with a countenance expres- 
 sive of some alarm, T thought. 
 
192 
 
 MEN'S WIVES. 
 
 "No; hang it! my lady," roared he, "no tea for 
 me ! I'll tell you what though, Ajax, my boy, bring 
 me some brandy and cold water, and set it here on the 
 little table close by me." 
 
 " Get every thing, Ajax, to make Mr. Slang comfort- 
 able," said our hostess, looking more and more enraged ; 
 and poor Sir George, who had been locking up the 
 wine in the dismal cellaret below stairs, was obliged to 
 disappear again in order to fetch a bottle of brandy for 
 the manager. 
 
 " That's right, Ajax, my black prince !" exclaimed 
 Slang, when the negro brought the required refreshment ; 
 " and now I suppose you'll be wanted in the orchestra 
 yonder. Don't Ajax play the cymbals, Sir George ?" 
 
 "Ha, ha, ha! very good — capital!" answered the 
 knight, exceedingly frightened ; " but ours is not a mili- 
 tary band. Miss Horseman, Mr. Craw, my dear Mrs. 
 Ravens wing, shall we begin the trio ? Silence, gentle- 
 men, if you please, it is a little piece from my opera of 
 the Brigand' } s Bride. Miss Horseman takes the Page's 
 part, Mr. Craw is Stiletto the Brigand, my accomplished 
 pupil is the Bride," and the music began. 
 
 " The Bride. 
 My heart with joy is beating, 
 My eyes with tears are dim ; 
 
 The Page. 
 Her heart with joy is beating, 
 Her eyes are fixed on him ; 
 
 The Brigand. 
 My heart with rage is beating, 
 In blood my eve-balls swim!" 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 193 
 
 What may have been the merits of the music or 
 the singing, I, of course, cannot guess. Lady Thrum 
 sat opposite the tea-cups, nodding her head and beating 
 time very gravely. Lord Round towers, by her side, 
 nodded his head too, for awhile, and then fell asleep. 
 I should have done the same but for the manager, 
 whose actions were worthy of remark. He sung with 
 all the three singers, and a great deal louder than any 
 of them ; he drank brandy and water, and offered his 
 glass to Mrs. Crump (who gave him a nod, and took 
 some, too) ; he shouted bravo ! or hissed as he thought 
 proper; he criticised all the points of Mrs. Walker's per- 
 son. " Shell do, Crump, she'll do — a splendid arm — 
 you'll see her eyes in the shilling gallery ! What sort 
 of a foot has she ? She's five feet three, if she's an 
 inch ! Bravo — slap up — capital — hurra !" and he con- 
 cluded by saying, with the aid of the Ravenswing, he 
 would put Ligonier's nose out of joint ! 
 
 The enthusiasm of Mr. Slang almost reconciled 
 Lady Thrum to the abruptness of his manners, and 
 even caused Sir George to forget that his chorus had 
 been interrupted by the obstreperous familiarity of the 
 manager. 
 
 a And what do you think, Mr. Bludyer," said the 
 tailor, delighted that his protegee should be thus win- 
 ning all hearts, " is n't Mrs. Walker a tip-top singer, 
 ey, sir ?" 
 
 " I think she's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey !" said 
 the illustrious author, wishing to abbreviate all commu- 
 nications with a tailor to whom he owed forty pounds. 
 
 " Then, sir," says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, " I'll— I'll 
 thank you to pay me my little bill !" 
 9 
 
194 men's vvivks. 
 
 It is true there was no connexion between Mrs. 
 Walker's singing and Woolsey 's little bill ; that the 
 " Then, sir," was perfectly illogical on "Woolsey's part, 
 but it was a very happy hit for the future fortunes of 
 Mrs. Walker. Who knows what would have come of 
 her debut but for that "Then, sir," and whether a 
 " smashing article from the Tomahawk might not have 
 ruined her for ever ?" 
 
 "Are you a relation of Mrs. Walker's," said Mr. 
 Bludyer, in reply to the angry tailor. 
 
 " What's that to you, whether I am or not ?" re- 
 plied Woolsey, fiercely. " But I'm the friend of Mrs. 
 Walker, sir ; proud am I to say so, sir ; and, as the poet 
 says, sir, c a little learning's a dangerous thing,' sir ; and 
 I think a man who don't pay his bills may keep his tongue 
 quiet at least, sir, and not abuse a lady, sir, whom every- 
 body else praises, sir. You shan't humbug me any more, 
 sir ; you shall hear from my attorney to-morrow, so 
 mark that !" 
 
 " Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey," cried the literary 
 man, " don't make a noise, come into this window ; is 
 Mrs. Walker really a friend of yours ?" 
 
 " I've told you so, sir." 
 
 " Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve 
 her ; and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose to 
 send about her to The Tomahawk I promise you I'll 
 put in." 
 
 " Will you, though ? then we'll say nothing about 
 the little bill." 
 
 " You may do on that point," answered Bludyer, 
 haughtily, "exactly as you please. I am not to be 
 frightened from my duty, mind that ; and mind, too, 
 
THE RAVENSWINGL 195 
 
 that I can write a slashing article better than any man 
 in England : I could crush her by ten lines." 
 
 The tables were now turned, and it was Woolsey's 
 turn to be alarmed. 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! I was angry, 1 ' said he, " because you 
 abused Mrs. Walker, who's an angel on earth ; but I'm 
 very willing to apologize. I say — come — let me take 
 your measure for some new clothes, eh ! Mr. B. V 
 
 " I'll come to your shop," answered the literary 
 man, quite appeased. " Silence ! they're beginning an- 
 other song." 
 
 The songs, which I don't attempt to describe (and, 
 upon my word and honour, as far as 1 can understand 
 matters, I believe, to this day, that Mrs. "Walker was 
 only an ordinary singer), the songs lasted a great deal 
 longer than I liked, but I was nailed, as it were, to the 
 spot, having agreed to sup at Knightsbridge barracks 
 with Fitz-Urse, whose carriage was ordered at eleven 
 o'clock. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Fitz-Boodle," said our old host to me, 
 "you can do me the greatest service in the world." 
 
 " Speak, sir !" said I. 
 
 " Will you ask your honourable and gallant friend, 
 the captain, to drive home Mr. Squinny to Brompton ?" 
 
 " Can't Mr. Squinny get a cab V Sir George looked 
 particularly arch. 
 
 " Generalship, my dear young friend, — a little harm- 
 less generalship. Mr. Squinny will not give much for 
 my opinion of my pupil, but he will value very highly 
 the opinion of the Honourable Mr. Fitz-Urse." 
 
 For a moral man, was not the little knight a clever 
 fellow ? He had bought Mr. Squinny for a dinner worth 
 
196 men's wives. 
 
 ten shillings, and for a ride in a carriage with a lord's 
 son. Squinny was carried to Brompton, and set down 
 at his aunt's door, delighted with his new friends, and 
 exceedingly sick with a cigar they had made him smoke. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 IN WHICH MR. WALKER SHOWS GREAT PRUDENCE AND 
 FORBEARANCE. 
 
 The describing of all these persons does not advance 
 Morgiana's story much. But, perhaps, some countiy 
 readers are not acquainted with the class of persons by 
 whose printed opinions they are guided, and are simple 
 enough to imagine that mere merit will make a reputa- 
 tion on the stage or elsewhere. The making of a the- 
 atrical success is a much more complicated and curious 
 thing than such persons fancy it to be. Immense are 
 the pains taken to get a good word from Mr. This of the 
 Star, or Mr. That of the Courier, to propitiate the 
 favour of the critic of the day, and get the editors of the 
 metropolis into a good humour, — above all, to have the 
 name of the party to be puffed perpetually before the 
 public. Artists cannot be advertised like Macassar oil 
 or blacking, and they want it to the full as much ; 
 hence endless ingenuity must be practised in order to 
 keep the popular attention awake. Suppose a great 
 actor moves from London to Windsor, the Brentford 
 Champion must state, " That yesterday Mr. Blazes and 
 suite passed rapidly through our city ; the celebrated 
 
THE IIAVENSWING. 197 
 
 comedian is engaged, we hear, at Windsor, to give some 
 of bis inimitable readings of our great national bard to 
 the most illustrious audience in tbe realm." This piece 
 of intelligence the Hammersmith Observer will question 
 the next week, as thus: — U A contemporary, the Brent- 
 ford Champion, says that Blazes is engaged to give 
 Shaksperean readings, at Windsor, to 'the most illus- 
 trious audience in the realm/ We question this fact 
 very much. We would, indeed, that it were true ; but 
 the most illustrious audience in the realm prefers foreign 
 melodies to the native wood-notes wild of the sweet 
 song-bird of Avon. Mr. Blazes is simply gone to Eton, 
 where his son, Master Massinger Blazes, is suffering, we 
 regret to hear, under a severe attack of the chicken-pox. 
 This complaint (incident to youth) has raged, we under- 
 stand, with frightful virulence in Eton School." 
 
 And if, after the above paragraphs, some London 
 paper chooses to attack the folly of the provincial press, 
 which talks of Mr. Blazes, and chronicles his move- 
 ments, as if he were a crowned head, what harm is 
 done ? Blazes can write in his own name to the London 
 journal, and say that it is not his fault if provincial jour- 
 nals choose to chronicle his movements, and that he was 
 far from wishing that the afflictions of those who are 
 dear to him should form the subject of public comment, 
 and be held up to public ridicule. " We had no inten- 
 tion of hurting the feelings of an estimable public ser- 
 vant," writes the editor ; " and our remarks on the 
 chicken-pox were general, not personal. We sincerely 
 trust that Master Massinger Blazes has recovered from 
 that complaint, and that he may pass through the mea- 
 sles, the hooping-cough, the fourth form, and all other 
 
198 
 
 MEN'S WIVES. 
 
 diseases to which youth is subject, with comfort to him- 
 self, and credit to his parents and teachers." At his 
 next appearance on the stage after this controversy, a 
 British public calls for Blazes three times after the play, 
 and somehow there is sure to be some one with a 
 laurel- wreath in a stage-box, who flings that chaplet at 
 the inspired artist's feet. 
 
 I don't know how it was, but before the debut of 
 Morgiana the English press began to heave and throb 
 in a convulsive manner, as if indicative of the near birth 
 of some great thing. For instance, you read in one 
 paper, — 
 
 " Anecdote of Karl Maria Von Weber. — When the author 
 of Oberon was in England, he was invited by a noble duke to 
 dinner, and some of the most celebrated of our artists were as- 
 sembled to meet him. The signal being given to descend to the 
 salle- a-7nanger, the German composer was invited by his noble 
 host (a bachelor) to lead the way. ' Is it not the fashion in your 
 country,' said he, simply, ' for the man of the first eminence to 
 take the first place ? Here is one whose genius entitles him to 
 be first any where' And, so saying, he pointed to our admirable 
 English composer, Sir George Thrum. The two musicians were 
 friends to the last, and Sir George has still the identical piece of 
 rosin which the author of the Freischutz gave him." — The Moon 
 (morning paper), 2d June. 
 
 " George III. a Composer. — Sir George Thrum has in his pos- 
 session the score of an air, the words from Samson Agoniste*. 
 an autograph of the late revered monarch. We hear that that 
 excellent composer has in store for us not only an opera, but a 
 pupil, with whose transcendant merits the elite of our aristocracy 
 are already familiar." — Ibid, June 5. 
 
 ' ; Music with a Vengeance. — The march to the sound of 
 which the 49th and 75th regiments rushed up the breach of 
 Badajoz was the celebrated air from Britons Alarmed ; or, the 
 
THJi RAVENS WING. 199 
 
 Siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, by our famous English composer, Sir 
 George Thrum. Marshal Davoust said that the French line 
 never stood when that air was performed to the charge of the 
 bayonet. We hear the veteran musician has an opera now 
 about to appear, and have no doubt that Old England will now, 
 as then, show its superiority over all foreign opponents." — 
 Albion. 
 
 "We have been accused of preferring the produit of the 
 etranger to the talent of our own native shores ; — but those who 
 speak so little know us. We are fanatici par la musica wher- 
 ever it be, and welcome merit dans chaque pays du monde* 
 What do we say ? La merite n'a point de pays, as Napoleon 
 said ; and Sir George Thrum (Chevalier de l'ordre de TElephant 
 et Chateau, de Panama) is a maestro, whose fame appartient a 
 VEurope. 
 
 " We have just heard the lovely eleve, whose rare qualities 
 the cavaliere has brought to perfection, — we have heard The 
 Ravenswing (pourquoi cacher un nom que demain un monde va 
 saluer), and a creature more beautiful and gifted never bloomed 
 before dans nos climats. She sung the delicious duet of the 
 1 Nabucodonosore,' with Count Pizzicato, with a bellezza, a gran- 
 dezza, sl raggio, that excited in the bosom of the audience a 
 corresponding furore: her scherzando was exquisite, though we 
 confess we thought the concluding fioritura in the passage in y 
 flat a leetle, a very leetle sporzata. Surely the words, 
 
 1 Giorno d'errore 
 Delire dolore, 
 Nabueodonosore,' 
 
 should be given andante, and not con strepito : but this is a 
 faute bien legere in the midst of such unrivalled excellence, and 
 only mentioned here that we may have something to criticise. 
 
 "We hear that the enterprising impresario of one of the 
 royal theatres has made an engagement, with the Diva ; and, if 
 we have a regret, it is that she should be compelled to sing in 
 the unfortunate language of our rude northern clime, which does 
 not preier itself near so well to the bocca of the eantatrice as do 
 
200 men's wives. 
 
 the mellifluous accents of the Lingua Toscana, the langue par 
 excellence of song. 
 
 " The Ravenswing's voice is a magnificent contra-basso of 
 nine octaves," &c. — -Flowers of Fashion, June 10. 
 
 " Old Thrum, the composer, is bringing out an opera and a 
 pupil. The opera is good, the pupil first-rate. The opera will 
 do much more than compete with the infernal twaddle and dis- 
 gusting slip-slop of Donizetti, and the milk-and-water fools who 
 imitate him : it will (and we ask the readers of The Tomahawk, 
 were we ever mistaken?) surpass all these; it is good, of 
 downright English stuff. The airs are fresh and pleasing, the 
 choruses large and noble, the instrumentation solid and rich, the 
 music is carefully written. We wish old Thrum and his opera 
 welL 
 
 " His pupil is a sure card, a splendid woman, and a splen- 
 did singer. She is so handsome that she might sing as much, 
 out of tune as Miss Ligonier, and the public would forgive her ; 
 and sings so well, that were she as ugly as the aforesaid Ligo- 
 nier, the audience would listen to her. The Ravenswing, that 
 is her fantastical theatrical name (her real name is the same 
 with that of a notorious scoundrel in the Fleet, who invented 
 the Panama swindle, the Pontine marshes' swindle, the soap 
 swindle — how are you off for soap now, Mr. W-lk-r ?) the Ra- 
 venswing, we say, will do. Slang has engaged her at thirty 
 guineas per week, and she appears next month in Thrum's 
 opera, of which the words are written by a great ass with some 
 talent, we mean Mr. Mulligan. 
 
 " There is a foreign fool in the Flowers of Fashion who is 
 doing his best to disgust the public by his filthy flattery. It is 
 enough to make one sick. "Why is the foreign beast not kicked 
 out of the paper ?" — The Tomahawk, June 17. 
 
 The three first " anecdotes " were supplied by Mul- 
 ligan to bis paper, with many others which need not 
 here be repeated ; he kept them up with amazing 
 energy and variety. Anecdotes of Sir George Thrum 
 met you unexpectedly in queer corners of country pa- 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 201 
 
 pers ; puffs of the English school of music appeared 
 perpetually in " notices to correspondents " in the Sun- 
 day prints, some of which Mr. Slang commanded, and 
 in others over which the indefatigable Mulligan had a 
 control. This youth was the soul of the little con- 
 spiracy for raising Morgiana into fame ; and humble as 
 lie is, and great and respectable as is Sir George Thrum, 
 it is my belief that the Ravenswing would never have 
 been the Ravenswing she is but for the ingenuity and 
 energy of the honest Hibernian reporter. 
 
 It is only the business of the great man who writes 
 the leading articles which appear in the large type of 
 the daily papers to compose those astonishing pieces of 
 eloquence ; the other parts of the paper are left to the 
 ingenuity of the sub-editor, whose duty it is to select 
 paragraphs, reject or receive horrid accidents, police re- 
 ports, &c. ; with which, occupied as he is in the exer- 
 cise of his tremendous functions, the editor himself 
 cannot be expected to meddle. The fate of Europe is 
 his province, the rise and fall of empires, and the great 
 questions of state, demand the editor's attention : the 
 humble puff, the paragraph about the last murder, or 
 the state of the crops, or the sewers in Chancery Lane, 
 is confided to the care of the sub ; and it is curious to 
 see what a prodigious number of Irishmen exist among 
 the sub-editors of London. When the liberator enu- 
 merates the services of his countrymen, how the battle 
 of Fontenoy was won by the Irish brigade, how the 
 battle of Waterloo would have been lost but for the 
 Irish regiments, and enumerates other acts for which 
 we are indebted to Milesian heroism and genius, — he 
 
 9* 
 
202 men's wives. 
 
 ought at least to mention the Irish brigade of the press, 
 and the amazing services they do to this country. 
 
 The truth is, the Irish reporters and soldiers appear 
 to do their duty right well ; and my friend Mr. Mulli- 
 gan is one of the former. Having the interests of his 
 opera and the Ravenswing strongly at heart, and being 
 amongst his brethren an exceedingly popular fellow, he 
 managed matters so that never a day passed but some 
 paragraph appeared somewhere regarding the new 
 singer, in whom, for their countryman's sake, all his 
 brothers and sub-editors felt an interest. 
 
 These puffs, destined to make known to all the 
 world the merits of the Ravenswing, of course had an 
 effect upon a gentleman very closely connected with 
 that lady, the respectable prisoner in the Fleet, Captain 
 Walker. As long as he received his weekly two 
 guineas from Mr. Woolsey, and the occasional half- 
 crowns which his wife could spare in her almost daily 
 visits to him, he had never troubled himself to inquire 
 what her pursuits were, and had allowed her (though 
 the worthy woman longed with all her might to betray 
 herself) to keep her secret. He was far from thinking, 
 indeed, that his wife would prove such a treasure to 
 him. 
 
 But when the voice of fame and the columns of the 
 public journals brought him each day some new story 
 regarding the merits, genius, and beauty, of the Ravens- 
 wing ; when rumours reached him that she was the 
 favourite pupil of Sir George Thrum ; when she brought, 
 him five guineas after singing at the Philharmonic 
 (other five the good soul had spent in purchasing some 
 smart new cockades, hats, cloaks, and laces, for her 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 203 
 
 little son) ; when, finally, it was said that Slang, the 
 great manager, offered her an engagement at thirty- 
 guineas per week, Mr. Walker became exceedingly in- 
 terested in his wife's proceedings, of which he demanded 
 from her the fullest explanation. 
 
 Using his marital authority, he absolutely forbade 
 Mrs. Walker's appearance on the public stage : he wrote 
 to Sir George Thrum a letter expressive of his high- 
 est indignation that negotiations so important should 
 ever have been commenced without his authorization ; 
 and he wrote to his dear Slang (for these gentlemen 
 were very intimate, and in the course of his transac- 
 tions as an agent Mr. W. had had many dealings with 
 Mr. S.) asking his dear Slang whether the latter thought 
 his friend Walker would be so green as to allow his 
 wife to appear on the stage, and he remain in prison 
 with all his debts on his head ? 
 
 And it was a curious thing now to behold how 
 eager those very creditors who but yesterday (and with 
 perfect correctness) had denounced Mr. Walker as a 
 swindler ; who had refused to come to any composition 
 with him, and had sworn never to release him ; how 
 they on a sudden became quite eager to come to an 
 arrangement with him, and offered, nay, begged and 
 prayed him, to go free, — only giving them his own and 
 Mrs. Walker's acknowledgment of their debt, with a 
 promise that a part of the lady's salary should be de- 
 voted to the payment of the claim. 
 
 " The lady's salary !" said Mr. Walker, indignantly, 
 to these gentlemen and their attorneys. "Do you 
 suppose I will allow Mrs. Walker to go on the stage ? — 
 do you suppose I am such a fool as to sign bills to the 
 
204 men's wives. 
 
 full amount of these claims against me, when in a few 
 months more I can walk out of prison without paying 
 a shilling? Gentlemen, you take Howard Walker for 
 an idiot. I like the Fleet, and rather than pay I'll stay 
 here for these ten years." 
 
 In other words, it was the captain's determination 
 to make some advantageous bargain for himself with 
 his creditors and the gentlemen who were interested in 
 bringing forward Mrs. Walker on the stage. And who 
 can say that in so determining he did not act witli 
 laudable prudence and justice ? 
 
 " You do not, surely, consider, my very dear sir, 
 that half the amount of Mrs. Walker's salaries is too 
 much for my immense trouble and pains in teaching 
 her ?" cried Sir George Thrum (who, in reply to Walk- 
 er's note, thought it most prudent to wait personally 
 on that gentleman). " Eemember that I am the first 
 master in England ; that I have the best interest in 
 England ; that I can bring her out at the Palace, and 
 at every concert and musical festival in England ; that 
 I am obliged to teach her every single note that she 
 utters ; and that without me she could no more sing a 
 song than her little baby could walk without its nurse." 
 
 "I believe about half what you say," said Mr. 
 Walker. 
 
 " My dear Captain Walker ! would you question 
 my integrity % Who was it that made Mrs. Milling- 
 ton's fortune, — the celebrated Mrs. Millington, who has 
 now got a hundred thousand pounds ? Who was it 
 that brought out the finest tenor in Europe, Poppleton ? 
 Ask the Musical World, ask those great artists them- 
 selves, and they will tell you they owe their reputation, 
 their fortune, to Sir George Thrum." 
 
THE RAVEN SWING. 205 
 
 " It is very likely," replied the captain, coolly. 
 " You are a good master, I dare say, Sir George ; but 
 I am not going to article Mrs. Walker to you for three 
 years, and sign her articles in the Fleet. Mrs. Walker 
 shan't sing till I'm a free man, that's flat ; if I stay here 
 till you're dead she shan't." 
 
 " Gracious powers, sir !" exclaimed Sir George, " do 
 you expect me to pay your debts ?" 
 
 " Yes, old boy," answered the captain, " and to give 
 me something handsome in hand, too ; and that's my 
 ultimatum : and so I wish you good morning, for I'm 
 engaged to play a match at tennis below." 
 
 This little interview exceedingly frightened the 
 worthy knight, who went home to his lady in a deliri- 
 ous state of alarm occasioned by the audacity of Captain 
 Walker. 
 
 Mr. Slang's interview with him was scarcely more 
 satisfactory. He owed, he said, four thousand pounds. 
 His creditors might be brought to compound for five 
 shillings in the pound. He would not consent to allow 
 his wife to make a single engagement until the creditors 
 were satisfied, and until he had a handsome sum in 
 hand to begin the world with. " Unless my wife comes 
 out, you'll be in the Gazette yourself, you know you 
 will. So you may take her or leave her, as you think 
 fit." 
 
 " Let her sing one night as a trial," said Mr. Slang. 
 
 " If she sings one night, the creditors will want their 
 money in full," replied the captain. " I shan't let her 
 labour, poor thing, for the profit of those scoundrels !" 
 added the prisoner, with much feeling. And Slang left 
 him with a much greater respect for Walker than ho 
 
206 
 
 had ever before possessed. He was struck with the 
 gallantry of the man who could triumph over misfor- 
 tunes, nay, make misfortune itself an engine of good 
 luck. 
 
 Mrs. Walker was instructed instantly to have a 
 severe sore throat. The journals in Mr. Slang's interest 
 deplored this illness pathetically ; while the papers in 
 the interest of the opposition theatre magnified it with 
 great malice. " The new singer," said one, " the great 
 wonder which Slang promised us, is as hoarse as a 
 raven!" "Dr. Thorax pronounces," wrote another 
 paper, " that the quinsy, which has suddenly prostrated 
 Mrs. Ravenswing, whose singing at the Philharmonic, 
 
 previous to her appearance at the T. R , excited so 
 
 much applause, has destroyed the lady's voice for ever. 
 We luckily need no other prima donna, when that place, 
 as nightly thousands acknowledge, is held by Miss 
 Ligonier." The Looker-on said, " That although some 
 well-informed contemporaries had declared Mrs. W. 
 Ravenswing's complaint to be a quinsy, others, on whose 
 authority they could equally rely, had pronounced it to 
 be a consumption. At all events, she was in an ex- 
 ceedingly dangerous state, from which, though we do 
 not expect, we heartily trust she may recover. Opinions 
 differ as to the merits of this lady, some saying that she 
 was altogether inferior to Miss Ligonier, while other 
 connoisseurs declare the latter lady to be by no means 
 so accomplished a person. This point, we fear," con- 
 tinued the Looker-on, " can never now be settled, unless, 
 which we fear is improbable, Mrs. Ravenswing should 
 ever so far recover as to be able to make her debut ; 
 and even then, the new singer will not have a fair 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 207 
 
 chance unless her voice and strength shall be fully re- 
 stored. This information, which we have from exclusive 
 resources, may be relied on," concluded the Looker-on, 
 " as authentic.'" 
 
 It was Mr. Walker himself, that artful and audacious 
 Fleet prisoner, who concocted those very paragraphs 
 against his wife's health which appeared in the journals 
 of the Ligonier party. The partisans of that lady were 
 delighted, the creditors of Mr. Walker astounded, at 
 reading them. Even Sir George Thrum was taken in, 
 and came to the Fleet prison in considerable alarm. 
 
 " Mum's the word, my good sir !" said Mr. Walker. 
 u Now is the time to make arrangements with the cre- 
 ditors." 
 
 Well, these arrangements were finally made. It 
 does not matter how many shillings in the pound satis- 
 fied the rapacious creditors of Morgiana's husband. But 
 it is certain that her voice returned to her all of a sud- 
 den upon the captain's release. The papers of the Mul- 
 ligan faction again trumpeted her perfections ; the agree- 
 ment with Mr. Slang was concluded ; that with Sir 
 George Thrum the great composer satisfactorily ar- 
 ranged ; and the new opera underlined in immense 
 capitals in the bills, and put in rehearsal with immense 
 expenditure on the part of the scene-painter and 
 costumier. 
 
 Need we tell with w T hat triumphant success the 
 Brigand's Bride was received ? All the Irish sub-edit- 
 ors the next morning took care to have such an account 
 of it as made Miss Ligonier and Baroski die with envy. 
 All the reporters who could spare time were in the 
 
208 men's wives. 
 
 boxes to support their friend's work. All the journey- 
 men tailors of the establishment of Lindsey, Woolsey, 
 and Co., had pit tickets given to them, and applauded 
 with all their might. All Mr. Walker's friends of the 
 Eegent Club lined the side-boxes with white kid gloves ; 
 and in a little box by themselves sat Mrs. Crump and 
 Mr. Woolsey, a great deal too much agitated to applaud 
 — so agitated, that Woolsey even forgot to fling down 
 the bouquet he had brought for the Ravenswing. 
 
 But there was no lack of those horticultural orna- 
 ments. The theatre servants wheeled away a wheel- 
 barrow full (which were flung on the stage the next 
 night over again) ; and Morgiana blushing, panting, 
 weeping, was led off by Mr. Poppleton, the eminent 
 tenor, who had crowned her with one of the most con- 
 spicuous of the chaplets. 
 
 Here she flew to her husband, and flung her arms 
 round his neck. He was flirting behind the side-scenes 
 with Mademoiselle Flicflac, who had been dancing in 
 the divertissement ; and was probably the only man in 
 the theatre of those who witnessed the embrace that did 
 not care for it. Even Slang was affected, and said with 
 perfect sincerity that he wished he had been in Walker's 
 place. The manager's fortune was made, at least for 
 the season. He acknowledged so much to Walker, 
 who took a week's salary for his wife in advance that 
 very night. 
 
 There was, as usual, a grand supper in the green- 
 room. The terrible Mr. Bludyer appeared in a new coat 
 of the well-known Woolsey cut, and the little tailor 
 himself and Mrs. Crump were not the least happy of the 
 party. But when the Ravenswing took Woolsey's hand, 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 209 
 
 and said she never would Lave been there but for him, 
 Mr. Walker looked very grave, and hinted to her that 
 she must not, in her position, encourage the attentions 
 of persons in that rank of life. " I shall pay," said he, 
 proudly, " every farthing that is owing to Mr. Woolsey, 
 and shall employ him for the future. But you under- 
 stand, my love, that one cannot at one's own table 
 receive one's own tailor." 
 
 Slang proposed Morgiana's health in a tremendous 
 speech, which elicited cheers, and laughter, and sobs, 
 such as only managers have the art of drawing from 
 the theatrical gentlemen and ladies in their employ. It 
 was observed, especially among the chorus-singers at the 
 bottom of the table, that their emotion was intense. 
 They had a meeting the next day and voted a piece of 
 plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his eminent services 
 in the cause of the drama. 
 
 Walker returned thanks for his lady. That was, he 
 said, the proudest moment of his life. He was proud to 
 think that he had educated her for the stage, happy to 
 think that his sufferings had not been vain, and that his 
 exertions in her behalf were crowned with full success. 
 In her name and his own he thanked the company, and 
 sat down, and was once more particularly attentive to 
 Mademoiselle Flicflac. 
 
 Then came an oration from Sir George Thrum, in 
 reply to Slang's toast to him. It was very much to the 
 same effect as the speech by Walker, the two gentle- 
 men attributing to themselves individually the merit of 
 bringing out Mrs. Walker. He concluded by stating 
 that he should always hold Mrs. Walker as the daughter 
 of his heart, and to the last moment of his life should 
 
210 men's wives. 
 
 love and cherish her. It is certain that Sir George was 
 exceedingly elated that night, and would have been 
 scolded by his lady on his return home but for the 
 triumph of the evening. 
 
 Mulligan's speech of thanks, as author of the Bri- 
 gand's Bride, was, it must be confessed, extremely 
 tedious. It seemed there would be no end to it ; when 
 he got upon the subject of Ireland especially, which 
 somehow was found to be intimately connected with the 
 interests of music and the theatre. Even the choristers 
 pooh-poohed this speech, coming though it did from the 
 successful author, whose songs of wine, love, and battle, 
 they had been repeating that night. 
 
 The Brigand's Bride ran for many nights. Its 
 choruses were tuned on the organs of the day. Morgi- 
 ana's airs " the Rose upon my balcony" and " the Light- 
 ning on the Cataract" (recitative and scena) were on 
 every body's lips, and brought so many guineas to Sir. 
 George Thrum that he was encouraged to have his 
 portrait engraved, which still may be seen in the music- 
 shops. Not many persons, I believe, bought proof im- 
 pressions of the plate, price two guineas ; whereas, on 
 the contrary, all the young clerks in banks, and all the 
 fast young men of the universities, had pictures of the 
 Ravenswing in their apartments — as Biondetta (the 
 brigand's bride), as Zelyma (in the Nuptials of Benares), 
 as Barbareska (in the Mine of Tobolsk), and in all her 
 famous characters. In the latter she disguises herself as 
 an uhlan, in order to save her father, who is in prison ; 
 and the Ravenswing looked so fascinating in this costume 
 in pantaloons and yellow boots, that Slang was for 
 having her instantly in Captain Macheath, whence arose 
 their quarrel. 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 211 
 
 She was replaced at Slang's theatre by Snooks, the 
 rhinoceros- tamer, with his breed of wild buffaloes. 
 Their success was immense. Slang gave a supper, at 
 which all the company burst into tears, and assembling 
 in the green-room next day, they, as usual, voted a 
 piece of plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his eminent 
 services to the drama. 
 
 In the Captain Macheath dispute Mr. Walker would 
 have had his wife yield ; but on this point, and for once, 
 she disobeyed her husband and left the theatre. And 
 when Walker cursed her (according to his wont) for 
 her • abominable selfishness and disregard of his pro- 
 perty, she burst into tears and said she had spent but 
 twenty guineas on herself and baby during the year, 
 that her theatrical dressmaker's bills were yet unpaid, 
 and that she had never asked him how much he spent 
 on that odious French figurante. 
 
 All this was true, except about the French figurante. 
 Walker, as the lord and master, received all Morgiana's 
 earnings, and spent them as a gentleman should. He 
 gave very neat dinners at a cottage in the Regent's 
 Park (Mr. and Mrs. Walker lived in Green Street, 
 Grosvenor Square), he played a good deal at the Re- 
 gent ; but for the French figurante, it must be con- 
 fessed, that Mrs. Walker was in a sad error ; that lady 
 and the captain had parted long ago ; it was Madame 
 Dolores de Tras-os-Montes who inhabited the cottao-e in 
 St. John's Wood now. 
 
 But if some little errors of this kind might be attribu- 
 table to the captain, on the other hand, when his wife was 
 in the provinces, he was the most attentive of husbands ', 
 made all her bargains, and received every shilling before 
 
212 
 
 he would permit her to sing a note. Thus he prevented 
 her from being cheated, as a person of her easy temper 
 doubtless would have been, by designing managers and 
 needy concert-givers. They always travelled with four 
 horses ; and Walker was adored in every one of the 
 principal hotels in England. The waiters flew at his 
 bell. The chambermaids were afraid he was a sad 
 naughty man, and thought his wife no such great 
 beauty ; the landlords preferred him to any duke. He 
 never looked at their bills, not he ! In fact his income 
 was at least four thousand a-year for some years of his 
 life. 
 
 Master Woolsey Walker was put to Dr. Wapshot's 
 seminary, whence after many disputes on the doctor's 
 part as to getting his half-year's accounts paid, and 
 after much complaint of ill-treatment on the little boy's 
 side, he was withdrawn, and placed under the care of 
 the Rev. Mr. Swish tail, at Turnham Green ; where all 
 his bills are paid by his godfather, now the head of the 
 firm of Woolsey and Co. 
 
 As a gentleman, Mr. Walker still declines to see 
 him ; but he has not, as far I have heard, paid the 
 sums of money which he threatened to refund ; and, as 
 he is seldom at home, the worthy tailor can come to 
 Green Street at his leisure ; and he and Mrs. Crump, 
 and Mrs Walker, often take the omnibus to Brentford, 
 and a cake with them to little Woolsey at school ; to 
 whom the tailor says he will leave every shilling of his 
 property. 
 
 The Walkers have no other children ; but when 
 she takes her airing in the Park she always turns away 
 at the sight of a low phaeton, in which sits a woman 
 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 213 
 
 with rouged cheeks, and a great number of over- dressed 
 children with a French bonne, whose name, I am given 
 to understand, is Madame Dolores de Tra-os-Montes. 
 Madame de Tras-os-Montes always puts a great gold 
 glass to her eye as the Ravens wing's carriage passes, 
 and looks into it with a sneer. The two coachmen 
 used always to exchange queer winks at each other in 
 the ring, until Madame de Tras-os-Montes lately adopted 
 a tremendous chasseur, with huge whiskers and a green 
 and gold livery ; since which time the formerly named 
 gentlemen do not recognise each other. 
 
 The Ravenswing's life is one of perpetual triumph 
 on the stage ; and, as every one of the fashionable men 
 about town have been in love with her, you may fancy 
 what a pretty character she has. Lady Thrum would 
 die sooner than speak to that unhappy young woman ; 
 and, in fact, the Thrums have a new pupil, who is a 
 syren without the dangerous qualities of one, who has 
 the person of a Yenus and the mind of a Muse, and 
 who is coming out at one of the theatres immediately. 
 Baroski says, " De liddle Rafenschwing is just as font of 
 me as effer !" People are very shy about receiving her 
 in society ; and when she goes to sing at a concert, 
 Miss Prim starts up and skurries off in a state of the 
 greatest alarm, lest " that person" should speak to her. 
 
 Walker is voted a good, easy, rattling, gentlemanly 
 fellow, and nobody's enemy but his own. His wife, 
 they say, is dreadfully extravagant ; and, indeed, since 
 Ins marriage, and, in spite of his wife's large income, he 
 has been in the Bench several times, but she signs some 
 bills and he comes out again, and is as gay and genial 
 as ever. All mercantile speculations he has wisely long 
 
214 
 
 since given up ; he likes to throw a main of an evening, 
 as I have said, and to take his couple of bottles at din- 
 ner. On Friday he attends at the theatre for his wife's 
 salary, and transacts no other business during the week. 
 He giows exceedingly stout, dyes his hair, and has a 
 bloated purple look about the nose and cheeks, very 
 different from that which first charmed the heart of 
 Morgiana. 
 
 By the way, Eglantine has been turned out of the 
 Bower of Bloom, and now keeps a shop at Tunbridge 
 Wells. Going down thither last year without a razor, 
 I asked a fat, seedy man, lolling in a faded nankeen 
 jacket at the door of a tawdry little shop in the Pan- 
 tiles, to shave me. He said in reply, " Sir, I do not prac- 
 tise in that branch of the profession !" and turned back 
 into the little shop. It was Archibald Eglantine. 
 But in the wreck of his fortunes, he still has his cap- 
 tain's uniform, and his grand cross of the order of the 
 Elephant and Castle of Panama. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 G. FITZ-BOODLE, ESQ. TO O. TORKE, ESQ. 
 
 Zum Trierischen Hof, Goblenz, July 10, 1843. 
 
 My Dear Yorke, — The story of the Ravenswing was writ- 
 ten a long time since, and I never could account for the bad 
 taste of the publishers of the metropolis who refused it an in- 
 sertion in their various magazines. This fact would never 
 have been attended to but for the following circumstance : — 
 
 Only yesterday as I was dining at this excellent hotel, I re- 
 marked a bald-headed gentleman in a blue coat and brass 
 buttons, who looked like a colonel on half-pay, and by his side 
 a lady and a little boy of twelve, whom the gentleman was 
 
THE RAVENSWING. 215 
 
 cramming with an amazing quantity of cherries and cakes. A 
 stout old dame in a wonderful cap and ribands was seated by 
 the lady's side, and it was easy to see they were English, and 
 I thought I had already made their acquaintance elsewhere. 
 
 The younger of the ladies at last made a bow with an ac- 
 companying blush. 
 
 "Surely," said I, "I have the honour of speaking to Mrs. 
 Ravenswing?" 
 
 "Mrs. Woolsey, sir," said the gentleman; "my wife has 
 long since left the stage :" and at this the old lady in the 
 wonderful cap trod on my toes very severely, and nodded her 
 head and all her ribands in a most mysterious way. Presently 
 the two ladies rose and left the table, the elder declaring that 
 she heard the baby crying. 
 
 " Woolsey, my dear, go with your mamma," said Mr. Wool- 
 sey, patting the boy on the head ; the young gentleman obeyed 
 the command, carrying off a plate of macaroons with him. 
 
 " Your son 18 a fine boy, sir," said I. 
 
 " My step-son, sir," answered Mr. Woolsey ; and added in a 
 louder voice, " I knew you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, at once, but did not 
 mention your name for fear of agitating my wife. She don't 
 like to have the memory of old times renewed, sir ; her former 
 husband, whom you knew, Captain Walker, made her very un- 
 happy. He died in America, sir, of this, I fear" (pointing to the 
 bottle), " and Mrs. W. quitted the stage a year before I quitted 
 business. Are you going on to Wiesbaden ?" 
 
 They went off in their carriage that evening, the boy on the box 
 making great efforts to blow out of the postilion's tasselled horn. 
 
 I am glad that poor Morgiana is happy at last, and hasten to 
 inform you of the fact : I am going to visit the old haunts of my 
 youth at Pumpernichel. 
 
 Adieu. Yours, G. F. B. 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 
 
 There was an odious Irishwoman and her daughter 
 who used to frequent the Royal Hotel at Leamington 
 some years ago, and who went by the name of Mrs. 
 Major Gam. Gam had been a distinguished officer in 
 His Majesty's service, whom nothing but death and his 
 own amiable wife could overcome. The widow mourned 
 her husband in the most becoming bombazeen she 
 could muster, and had at least half an inch of lamp- 
 black round the immense visiting tickets which she left 
 at the houses of the nobility and gentry her friends. 
 
 Some of us, I am sorry to say, used to call her Mrs. 
 Major Gammon ; for if the worthy widow had a pro- 
 pensity, it was to talk largely of herself and family (of 
 her own family, for she held her husband's very cheap), 
 and of the wonders of her paternal mansion, Molloy- 
 ville, County of Mayo. She was of the Molloys of that 
 county ; and though I never heard of the family before, 
 I have little doubt, from what Mrs. Major Gam stated, 
 that they were the most ancient and illustrious family 
 of that part of Ireland. I remember there came down 
 to see his aunt a } 7 oung fellow with huge red whiskers 
 and tight nankeens, a green coat and an awful breast- 
 pin, who, after two days' stay at the Spa, proposed mar- 
 riage to Miss S , or, in default, a duel with her 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY^S WIFE. 217 
 
 father ; and who drove a Hash curricle with a bay and 
 a gray, and who was presented with much pride by 
 Mrs. Gam as Castlereagh Molloy of Molloyville. We 
 all agreed that he was the most insufferable snob of the 
 whole season, and were delighted when a bailiff came 
 down in search of him. 
 
 Well, this is all I know personally of the Molloy- 
 ville family ; but at the house if you met the widow 
 Gam, and talked on any subject in life, you were sure to 
 hear of it. If you asked her to have peas at dinner, 
 she would say, " Oh, sir, after the peas at Molloyville, I 
 really don't care for any others, — do I, dearest Jemima ? 
 We always had a dish in the month of June, when my 
 father gave his head gardener a guinea (we had three 
 at Molloyville), and sent him with his compliments and 
 a quart of peas to our neighbour dear Lord Marrowfat. 
 What a sweet place Marrowfat Park is ! isn't it, Jemi- 
 ma ?" If a carriage passed by the window, Mrs. Major 
 Gammon would be sure to tell you that there were 
 three carriages at Molloyville, " the barouche, the chaw- 
 iot, and the covered cyar." In the same manner she 
 would favour you with the number and names of the 
 footmen of the establishment ; and on a visit to War- 
 wick Castle (for this bustling woman made one in every 
 party of pleasure that was formed from the hotel), she 
 gave us to understand that the great walk by the river 
 was altogether inferior to the principal avenue of Mol- 
 loyville Park. I should not have been able to tell so 
 much about Mrs. Gam and her daughter, but that, be- 
 tween ourselves, I was particularly sweet upon a young 
 lady at the time, whose papa lived at the royal, and was 
 under the care of Dr. Jephson. 
 10 
 
218 men's wives. 
 
 The Jemima appealed to by Mrs. Gam in the above 
 sentence was, of course, her daughter, apostrophized by 
 her mother, u Jemima, my soul's darling !" or, " Jemi- 
 ma, my blessed child !" or, " Jemima, my own love !" 
 The sacrifices that Mrs. Gam had made for that daugh- 
 ter were, she said, astonishing. The money she had 
 spent in masters upon her, the illnesses through which 
 she had nursed her, the ineffable love the mother bore 
 her, were only known to Heaven, Mrs. Gam said. They 
 used to come into the room with their arms round each 
 other's waists ; * at dinner between the courses the 
 mother would sit with one hand locked in her daugh- 
 ter's ; and if only two or three young men were present 
 at the time, would be pretty sure to kiss her Jemima 
 more than once during the time the bohea was being 
 poured out. 
 
 As for Miss Gam, if she was not handsome, candour 
 forbids me to say she was ugly. She was neither one 
 nor t'other. She was a person who wore ringlets and 
 a band round her forehead ; she knew four songs, which 
 became rather tedious at the end of a couple of months' 
 acquaintance ; she had excessively bare shoulders ; she 
 inclined to wear numbers of cheap ornaments, rings, 
 brooches, ferronieres, smelling-bottles, and was always, 
 we thought, very smartly dressed, though old Mrs. Lynx 
 hinted that her gowns and her mother's were turned 
 over and over again, and that her eyes were almost put 
 out by darning stockings. 
 
 These eyes Miss Gam had very large, though rather 
 red and weak, and used to roll them about at every 
 eligible unmarried man in the place. But though the 
 widow subscribed to all the balls, though she hired a 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 219 
 
 fly to go to the meet of the hounds, though she was 
 constant at church, and Jemima sang louder than any 
 person there except the clerk, and though, probably, 
 any person who made her a happy husband would be 
 invited down to enjoy the three footmen, gardeners, 
 and carriages at Molloyville, yet no English gentleman 
 was found sufficiently audacious to propose. Old Lynx 
 used to say that the pair had been at Tunbridge, Har- 
 rogate, Brighton, Ramsgate, Cheltenham, for this eight 
 years past, where they had met, it seemed, with no bet- 
 ter fortune. Indeed, the widow looked rather high for 
 her blessed child ; and as she looked with the contempt 
 which no small number of Irish people feel upon all 
 persons who get their bread by labour or commerce ; 
 and as she was a person whose energetic manners, cos- 
 tume, and brogue, were not much to the taste of quiet 
 English country gentlemen, Jemima, — sweet, spotless 
 flower, — still remained on her hands, a thought with- 
 ered, perhaps, and seedy. 
 
 Now, at this time, the 120th regiment was quartered 
 at Weedon Barracks, and with the corps was a certain 
 Assistant- Surgeon Haggarty, a large, lean, tough, raw- 
 boned man, with big hands, knock-knees, and carroty 
 whiskers, and, withal, as honest a creature as ever han- 
 dled a lancet. Haggarty, as his name imports, was of 
 the very same nation as Mrs. Gam, and, what is more, 
 the honest fellow had some of the peculiarities which 
 belonged to the widow, and bragged about his family 
 almost as much as she did. I do not know of what 
 particular part of Ireland they were kings, but mon- 
 archs they must have been, as have been the ancestors 
 of so many thousand Hibernian families ; but they had 
 
220 men's wives. 
 
 been men of no small consideration in Dublin, " Where 
 my father," Haggarty said, " is as well known as King 
 William's statue, and where he 'rowls his carriage, too,' 
 let me tell ye." 
 
 Hence Haggarty was called by the wags " Rowl 
 the carriage," and several of them made inquiries of 
 Mrs. Gam regarding him : " Mrs. Gam, when you used 
 to go up from Molloyville to the lord lieutenant's balls, 
 and had your town-house in Fitzwilliam Square, used 
 you to meet the famous Doctor Haggarty in society ?" 
 
 " Is it Surgeon Haggarty of Gloucester Street, ye 
 mean ? The black Papist ! D'ye suppose that the 
 Molloys would sit down to table with a creature of that 
 sort ?" 
 
 " Why, isn't he the most famous physician in Dub- 
 lin, and doesn't he rowl his carriage there ?" 
 
 " The horrid wretch ! He keeps a shop, I tell ye, 
 and sends his sons out with the medicine. He's got 
 four of them off into the army, Ulick and Phil, and 
 Terence and Denny, and now it's Charles that takes out 
 the physic. But how should I know about these odious 
 creatures ? Their mother was a Burke, of Burke's 
 Town, County Cavan, and brought Surgeon Haggarty 
 two thousand pounds. She was a Protestant ; and I 
 am surprised how she could have taken up with a hor- 
 rid, odious, Popish apothecary !" 
 
 From the extent of the widow's information, I am 
 led to suppose that the inhabitants of Dublin are not 
 less anxious about their neighbors than are the natives of 
 English cities ; and I think it is very probable that Mrs. 
 Gam's account of the young Haggartys who carried 
 out the medicine is perfectly correct, for a lad in the 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTy's WIFE. 221 
 
 120th made a caricature of Haggarty coming out of a 
 chemist's shop with an oil-cloth basket under his arm, 
 which set the worthy surgeon in such a fury that there 
 would have been a duel between him and the ensign, 
 could the fiery doctor have had his way. 
 
 Now, Dionysius Haggarty was of an exceedingly in- 
 flammable temperament, and it chanced that of all the 
 invalids, the visitors, the young squires of Warwick- 
 shire, the young manufacturers from Birmingham, the 
 young officers from the barracks, it chanced, unluckily 
 for Miss Gam and himself, that he was the only indi- 
 vidual who was in the least smitten by her personal 
 charms. He was very tender and modest about his 
 love, however, for it must be owned that he respected 
 Mrs. Gam hugely, and fully admitted, like a good sim- 
 ple fellow as he was, the superiority of that lady's birth 
 and breeding to his own. How could he hope that he, 
 a humble assistant-surgeon, with a thousand pounds 
 his aunt Kitty left him for all his fortune, — how could 
 he hope that one of the race of Molloyville would ever 
 condescend to marry him ? 
 
 Inflamed, however, by love, and inspired by wine, 
 one day at a picnic at Kenilworth, Haggarty, whose 
 love and raptures were the talk of the whole regiment, 
 was induced by his waggish comrades to make a pro- 
 posal in form. 
 
 " Are you aware, Mr. Haggarty, that you are speak- 
 ing to a Molloy V was all the reply majestic Mrs. Gam 
 made when, according to the usual formula, the flutter- 
 ing Jemima referred her suitor to " mamma." She 
 left him with a look which was meant to crush the poor 
 fellow to earth, she gathered up her cloak and bonnet, 
 
222 men's wives. 
 
 and precipitately called for her fly. She took care to 
 tell every single sonl in Leamington that the son of the 
 odious Papist apothecary had had the audacity to pro* 
 pose for her daughter (indeed a proposal, coming from 
 whatever quarter it may, does no harm), and left Hag- 
 garty in a state of extreme depression and despair. 
 
 His downheartedness, indeed, surprised most of his 
 acquaintances in and out of the regiment, for the young 
 young lady was no beauty and a doubtful fortune, and 
 Dennis was a man outwardly of an unromantic turn, 
 who seemed to have a great deal more liking for beef- 
 steak and whisky-punch than for women, however fas- 
 cinating. 
 
 But there is no doubt this shy, uncouth, rough fel- 
 low had a warmer and more faithful heart hid within 
 him than many a dandy who is as handsome as Apollo. 
 I, for my part, never can understand why a man falls 
 in love, and heartily give him credit for so doing, never 
 mind with what or whom. That I take to be a point 
 quite as much beyond an individual's own control as 
 the catching of the small-pox or the colour of his hair. 
 To the surprise of all, Assistant-surgeon Dionysius Hag- 
 garty was deeply and seriously in love ; and I am told 
 had one day very nearly killed the before-mentioned 
 young ensign with a carving-knife for venturing to 
 make a second caricature, representing Lady Gammon 
 and Jemima in a fantastical park, surrounded by three 
 gardeners, three carriages, three footmen, and the cov- 
 ered cyar. He would have no joking concerning them. 
 He became moody and quarrelsome of habit. He was 
 for some time much more in the surgery and hospital 
 than in the mess. He gave up eating, for the most 
 
dennis hag g arty's wife. 223 
 
 part, of those vast quantities of beef and pudding for 
 which his stomach had used to afford such ample and 
 swift accommodation ; and when the cloth was drawn, 
 instead of taking twelve tumblers and singing Irish 
 melodies as he used to do in a horrible cracked yelling 
 voice, he would retire to his own apartment or gloomily 
 pace the barrack-yard, or madly whip and spur a grey 
 mare he had on the road to Leamington where his Je- 
 mima (although invisible for him) still dwelt. 
 
 The season at Leamington coming to a conclusion 
 by the withdrawal of the young fellows who frequented 
 that watering-place, the widow Gam retired to her usual 
 quarters for the other months of the year. Where 
 these quarters where I think we have no right to ask, 
 for I believe she had quarrelled with her brother at 
 Molloyville, and besides, was a great deal too proud to 
 be a burden on any body. 
 
 Not only did the widow quit Leamington, but very 
 soon afterwards the 120th received its marching orders 
 and left Weedon and Warwickshire. Haggarty's appe- 
 tite was by this time partially restored, but his love was 
 not altered and his humour was still morose and gloomy. 
 I am informed that at this period of his life he wrote 
 some poems relative to his unhappy passion, a wild set 
 of verses of several lengths, and in his hand-writing, 
 being discovered upon a sheet of paper in which a 
 pitch-plaster was wrapt up, which Lieutenant and Adju- 
 tant Wheezer was compelled to put on for a cold. 
 
 Fancy then, three years afterwards, the surprise of 
 all Haggarty's acquaintances on reading in the public 
 papers the following announcement : — 
 
224 
 
 "Marrried, at Monkstown on the 12th instant, Dionysius 
 Haggarty, Esq., of H. M. 120th Foot, to Jemima Amelia Wil- 
 helmina Molloy, daughter of the late Major Lancelot Gam, R. 
 M., and grandaughter of the late, and niece of the present Burke 
 Bodkin Blake Molloy, Esq., Mulloyville, County Mayo." 
 
 Has the course of true love at last begun to run 
 smooth ? thought I, as I laid down the paper ; and the 
 old times, and the old leering, bragging widow, and 
 the high shoulders of her daughter, and the jolly days 
 with the 120th, and Doctor Jephson's one-horse chaise, 
 
 and the Warwickshire hunt, and — and Louisa S ? 
 
 but never mind her, came back to my mind : has that 
 good-natured> simple fellow at last met with his reward ? 
 Well, if he has not to marry the mother-in-law too, he 
 he may get on well enough. 
 
 Another year announced the retirement of Assistant- 
 Surgeon Molloy from the 120th, where he was replaced 
 by Assistant-Surgeon Angus Rothsay Leech, a Scotch- 
 man probably, with whom I have not the least acquaint- 
 ance, and who has nothing whatever to do with this 
 little history. 
 
 Still more years passed on, during which time I 
 will not say that I kept a constant watch upon the for- 
 tunes of Mr. Haggarty and his lady, for, perhaps, if the 
 truth were known, I never thought for a moment about 
 them ; until one day, being at Kingstown, near Dublin, 
 dawdling on the beach and staring at the Hill of 
 Howth, as most people at that watering-place do, I 
 saw coming towards me a tall gaunt man, with a pair 
 of bushy red whiskers, of which I thought I had seen 
 the likes in former years, and a face which could be no 
 
dennis hag a arty's wife. 225 
 
 other than Haggarty's. It was Haggarty, ten years 
 older than when we last met, and greatly more grim 
 and thin. He had on one shoulder a young gentle- 
 man in a dirty tartan costume, and a face exceedingly 
 like his own peeping from under a battered plume of 
 black feathers, while with his other hand he was drag- 
 ging a light green go-cart, in which reposed a female 
 infant of some two years old. Both were roaring with 
 great power of lungs. 
 
 As soon as Dennis saw me his face lost the dull, 
 puzzled expression which had seemed to characterize it, 
 he dropped the pole of the go-cart from one hand and 
 his son from the other, and came jumping forward to 
 greet me with all his might, leaving his progeny roar- 
 ing in the road. 
 
 " Bless my sowl," says he, " sure it's Fitz-Boodle ? 
 Fitz, don't you remember me ? Dennis Haggarty of 
 the 120th ? Leamington, you know ? Molloy, my 
 boy, hould your tongue, and stop your screeching, 
 and Jemima's too ; d'ye hear ? Well, it does good to 
 sore eyes to see an old face. How fat you're grown, 
 Fitz ; and were ye ever in Ireland before ? and an't ye 
 delighted with it ? Confess, now, isn't it beautiful V 
 
 This question regarding the merits of their country, 
 which I have remarked is put by most Irish persons, 
 being answered in a satisfactory manner, and the shouts 
 of the infants appeased from an apple-stall hard-by, 
 Dennis and I talked of old times, and I congratulated 
 him on his marriage with the lovely girl whom we all 
 admired, and hoped he had a fortune with her, and so 
 forth. His appearance, however, did not bespeak a 
 great fortune ; he had an old grey hat, short old trou- 
 10* 
 
226 men's wives. 
 
 sers, an old waistcoat with regimental buttons, and 
 patched Blucher boots, such as are not usually sported 
 by persons in easy life. 
 
 " Ah !" says he, with a sigh, in reply to my queries, 
 " times are changed since them days, Fitz-Boodle. My 
 wife's not what she was — the beautiful creature you 
 knew her. Molloy, my boy, run off in a hurry to your 
 mamma and tell her an English gentleman is coming 
 home to dine, for you'll dine with me, Fitz, in course ?" 
 And I agreed to partake of that meal, though Master 
 Molloy altogether declined to obey his papa's orders with 
 respect to announcing the stranger. 
 
 " Well, I must announce you myself," said Hag- 
 garty, with a smile. " Come, it's just dinner-time, and 
 my little cottage is not a hundred yards off." Accord- 
 ingly, we all marched in procession to Dennis's little 
 cottage, which was one of a row and a half of one sto- 
 ried houses, with little court-yards before them, and 
 mostly with very fine names on the door-posts of each. 
 " Surgeon Haggarty " was emblazoned on Dennis's 
 gate on a shining green copper-plate ; and, not content 
 with this, on the door-post above the bell was an oval 
 with the inscription of "New Molloyville." The bell 
 was broken, of course ; the court, or garden-path, was 
 mouldy, weedy, seedy ; there were some dirty rocks, by 
 way of ornament, round a faded grass-plat in the centre, 
 some clothes and rags hanging out of most part of the 
 windows of New Molloyville, the immediate entrance to 
 which was by a battered scraper, under a broken trel- 
 lis-work, up which a withered creeper declined any 
 longer to climb* 
 
 "Small, but snug," says Haggarty, " I'll lead the 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTV'S WIFE. 227 
 
 way, Fitz ; put your hat on the flower-pot there, and 
 turn to the left into the drawing-room." A fog of 
 onions and turf-smoke filled the whole of the house, and 
 gave signs that dinner was not far off — far off ? You 
 could hear it frizzling in the kitchen, where the maid 
 was also endeavouring to hush the crying of a third 
 refractory child. But as we entered all three of Hag- 
 garty's darlings were in full war. 
 
 " Is it you, Dennis ?" cried a sharp raw voice, from 
 a dark corner in the drawing-room to which we were 
 introduced, and in which a dirty table-cloth was laid 
 for dinner, some bottles of porter and a cold mutton - 
 bone being laid out on a rickety grand-piano hard by. 
 " Ye're always late, Mr. Haggarty. Have you brought 
 the whisky from Nowlan's ? I'll go bail ye've not 
 now." 
 
 " My dear, IVe brought an old friend of yours and 
 mine to take pot-luck with us to-day," said Dennis. 
 
 " When is he to come V said the lady. At which 
 speech I was rather surprised, for I stood before her. 
 
 " Here he is Jemima, my love," answered Dennis, 
 looking at me. " Mr. Fitz-Boodle ; don't you remem- 
 ber him in Warwickshire, darling ?" 
 
 " Mr. Fitz-Boodle ! I am very glad to see him," 
 said the lady, rising and curtseying with much cor- 
 diality. 
 
 Mrs. Haggarty was blind. 
 
 Mrs. Haggarty was not only blind, but it was evi- 
 dent that small-pox had been the cause of her loss of 
 vision. Her eyes were bound with a bandage, her 
 features were entirely swollen, scarred, and distorted by 
 the horrible effects of the malady. She had been knit 
 
228 men's wives. 
 
 ting in a corner when we entered, and was wrapped in 
 a very dirty bed-gown. Her voice to me was quite 
 different to that in which she addressed her husband. 
 She spoke to Haggarty in broad Irish, she addressed 
 me in that most odious of all languages — Irish-En glish ? 
 endeavouring to the utmost to disguise her brogue, and 
 to speak with the true dawdling distingue English air. 
 
 " Are you long in I-a-land ?" said the poor creature 
 in this accent. " You must faind it a sad ba'ba'ous 
 place, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, I'm shu-ah ! It was vary kaind 
 of you to come upon us enfamille, and accept a dinner 
 sans ceremonie. Mr. Haggarty, I hope you'll put the 
 waine into aice, Mr. Fitz-Boodle must be melted with 
 this hot weathah." 
 
 For some time she conducted the conversation in 
 this polite strain, and I was obliged to say, in reply to 
 a query of hers, that I did not find her the least altered, 
 though I should never have recognized her but for this 
 rencontre. She told Haggarty with a significant air to 
 get the wine from the cellah, and whispered to me that 
 he was his own butlah, and the poor fellow taking the 
 hint scudded away into the town for a pound of veal 
 cutlets and a couple of bottles of wine from the tavern. 
 
 " Will the childthren get their potatoes and butther 
 here ?" said a barefoot girl, with long black hair flow- 
 ing over her face, which she thrust in at the door. 
 
 u Let them sup in the nursery, Elizabeth, and send — 
 ah ! Edwards to me." 
 
 " Is it cook you mane, ma'am ?" said the girl. 
 
 " Send her at once !" shrieked the unfortunate wo- 
 man ; and the noise of frying presently ceasing, a per- 
 spiring woman made her appearance wiping her brows 
 
dennis hag g arty's wife. 229 
 
 with her apron, and asking, with an accent decidedly 
 Hibernian, what the rnisthress wanted. 
 
 " Lead rne up to my dressing-room, Edwards, I 
 really am not fit to be seen in this dishabille by Mr. 
 Fitz-Boodle." 
 
 " Fait' I can't !" says Edwards ; "sure the masther's 
 out at the butcher's, and can't look to the kitchen 
 tire !" 
 
 " Nonsense, I must go !" cried Mrs. Haggarty ; and 
 so Edwards, putting on a resigned air, and giving her 
 arm and face a further rub with her apron, held out her 
 arm to Mrs. Dennis, and the pair went up stairs. 
 
 She left me to indulge my reflections for half an 
 hour, at the end of w r hich period she came down-stairs 
 dressed in an old yellow satin, with the poor shoulders 
 exposed just as much as ever. She had mounted a 
 tawdry cap, which Haggarty himself must have selected 
 for her. She had all sorts of necklaces, bracelets, and 
 ear-rings in gold, in garnets, in mother-of-pearl, in or- 
 moulu. She brought in a furious savour of musk, 
 which drove the odours of onions and turf-smoke before 
 it ; and she waved across her wretched, angular, mean, 
 scarred features, an old cambric handkerchief with a 
 yellow lace border. 
 
 " And so you would have known me any where, 
 Mr. Fitz-Boodle ?" said she, with a grin that was meant 
 to be most fascinating. " I was sure you would ; for 
 though my dreadful illness deprived me of my sight, it 
 is a mercy that it did not change my features or com- 
 plexion at all !" 
 
 This mortification had been spared the unhapp) 
 woman ; but I don't know whether with all her vanity, 
 
230 men's wives. 
 
 her infernal pride, folly, and selfishness, it was charita- 
 ble to leave her in her error. 
 
 Yet why correct her ? There is a quality in certain 
 people which is above all advice, exposure, or correction. 
 Only let a man or woman have dulness sufficient, and 
 they need bow to no extant authority. A dullard 
 recognizes no betters ; a dullard can't see that he is in 
 the wrong ; a dullard has no scruples of conscience, no 
 doubts of pleasing, or succeeding, or doing right, no 
 qualms for other people's feelings, no respect but for the 
 fool himself. How can you make a fool perceive that 
 he is a fool ? Such a personage can no more see his 
 own folly than he can his own ears. And the great 
 quality of Dulness is to be unalterably contented with 
 itself. What myriads of souls are there of this admira- 
 ble sort, — selfish, stingy, ignorant, passionate, brutal, 
 bad sons, mothers, fathers, never known to do kind 
 actions ! 
 
 To pause, however, in this disquisition which was 
 carrying us far off — Kingstown, New Molloyville, Ire- 
 land, nay, into the wide world wherever Dulness in- 
 habits, let it be stated that Mrs. Haggarty, from my 
 brief acquaintance with her and her mother, was of the 
 order of persons just spoken of. There was an air of 
 conscious merit about her, very hard to swallow along 
 with the infamous A dinner poor Dennis managed, after 
 much delays, to get on the table. She did not fail to 
 invite me to Molloyville, where she said her cousin 
 would be charmed to see me ; and she told me almost 
 as many anecdotes about that place as her mother used 
 to impart in former days. I observed, moreover, that 
 Dennis cut her the favourite pieces of the beefsteak, that 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 231 
 
 she ate thereof with great gusto, and that she drank 
 with similar eagerness of the various strong liquors at 
 table. u We Irish ladies are all fond of a leetle glass of 
 punch," she said, with a playful air, and Dennis mixed 
 her a powerful tumbler of such violent grog as I myself 
 could swallow only with some difficulty. She talked of 
 her suffering a great deal, of her sacrifices, of the luxu- 
 ries to which she had been accustomed before marriage, 
 — in a word, of a hundred of those themes on which 
 some ladies are in the custom of enlarging when they 
 wish to plague some husbands. 
 
 But honest Dennis, far from being angry at this 
 perpetual, wearisome, impudent recurrence to her own 
 superiority, rather encouraged the conversation than 
 otherwise. It pleased him to hear his wife discourse 
 about her merits and family splendours. He was so 
 thoroughly beaten down and henpecked, that he, as it 
 were, gloried in his servitude, and fancied that his wife's 
 magnificence reflected credit on himself. He looked 
 towards me, who was half sick of the woman and her 
 egotism, as if expecting me to exhibit the deepest sym- 
 pathy, and flung me glances across the table, as much 
 as to say, " What a gifted creature my Jemima is, and 
 what a fine fellow I am to be in possession of her !" 
 When the children came down she scolded them, of 
 course, and dismissed them abruptly (for which circum- 
 stance, perhaps, the writer of these pages was not in his 
 heart very sorry), and after having sat a preposterously 
 long time left us, asking whether we would have coffee 
 there or in her boudoir. 
 
 " Oh ! here, of course," said Dennis, with rather a 
 troubled air, and in about ten minutes the lovely crea- 
 
232 men's wives. 
 
 ture was led back to us again by " Edwards," and the 
 coffee made its appearance. After coffee her husband 
 begged her to let Mr. Fitz-Boodle hear her voice, " He 
 longs for some of his old favourites." 
 
 " No ! do you ?" said she ; and was led in triumph 
 to the jingling old piano, and, with a screechy, wiry 
 voice, sung those very abominable old ditties which 1 
 had heard her sing at Leamington ten years back. 
 
 Haggarty, as she sang, flung himself back in his 
 chair delighted. Husbands always are, and with the 
 same song, one that they have heard when they were 
 nineteen years old, probably ; most Englishmen's tunes 
 have that date, and it is rather affecting, I think, to 
 hear an old gentleman of sixty or seventy quavering 
 the old ditty that was fresh when he was fresh and in 
 his prime. If he has a musical wife, depend on it he 
 thinks her old songs of 1788 are better than any he 
 has heard since ; in fact he has heard none since. When 
 the old couple are in high good-humour the old gentle- 
 man will take the old lady round the waist and say, 
 " My dear, do sing me one of your own songs," and 
 she sits down and sings with her cracked old voice, 
 and, as she sings, the roses of her youth bloom again 
 for a moment. Eanelagh resuscitates, and she is 
 dancing a minuet in powder and a train. 
 
 This is another digression. It was occasioned by 
 looking at poor Dennis's face while his wife was screech- 
 ing (and, believe me, the former was the most pleasant 
 occupation). Bottom tickled by the fairies could not 
 have been in greater ecstasies. He thought the music 
 was divine ; and had further reason for exulting in it, 
 which was, that his wife was always in a good humour 
 
dennis h a gg arty's wife. 233 
 
 after singing, and never would sing but in that happy 
 frame of mind. Dennis had hinted so much in our little 
 colloquy during the ten minutes of his lady's absence in 
 the " boudoir ;" so, at the conclusion of each piece, we 
 shouted " Bravo !" and clapped our hands like mad. 
 
 Such was my insight into the life of Surgeon Dio- 
 nysius Haggarty and his wife ; and I must have come 
 upon him at a favourable moment too, for poor Dennis 
 has spoken, subsequently, of our delightful evening at 
 Kingstown, and evidently thinks to this day that his 
 friend was fascinated by the entertainment there. His 
 inward economy was as follows : he had his half pay, a 
 thousand pounds, about a hundred a-year that his 
 father left, and his wife had sixty pounds a-year from 
 her mother, which the father, of course, never paid. 
 He had no practice, for he was absorbed in attention to 
 his Jemima and the children, whom he used to wash, 
 to dress, to carry out, to walk, or to ride, as we have 
 seen, and who could not have a servant, as their dear, 
 blind mother could never be left alone. Mrs. Haggarty, 
 a great invalid, used to lie in bed till one, and have 
 breakfast and hot luncheon there. A fifth part of his 
 income was spent in having her wheeled about in a 
 chair, by which it was his duty to walk daily for an 
 allotted number of hours. Dinner would ensue, and 
 the amateur clergy, who abound in Ireland, and of 
 whom Mrs. Haggarty was a great admirer, lauded her 
 every where as a model of resignation and virtue, and 
 praised beyond measure the admirable piety with which 
 she bore her sufferings. 
 
 Well, every man to his taste. It did not certainly 
 appear to me that she was the martyr of the family. 
 
234 men's wives. 
 
 " The circumstances of my marriage with Jemima," 
 Dennis said to me, in some after-conversations we had 
 on this interesting subject, " were the most romantic 
 and touching you can conceive. You saw what an im- 
 pression the dear girl had made upon me when we were 
 at Weedon ; for from the first day I set eyes on her, 
 and heard her sing her delightful song of ' Dark-eyed 
 Maiden of Araby,' I felt, and said to Turniquet of ours, 
 that very night, that she was the dark-eyed maiden of 
 Araby for me, — not that she was, you know, for she 
 was born in Shropshire. But I felt that I had seen the 
 woman who was to make me happy or miserable for 
 life. You know how I proposed for her at Kenilworth, 
 and how I was rejected, and how I almost shot myself 
 in consequence, — no, you don't know that, for I said 
 nothing about it to any one, but I can tell you it was a 
 very near thing, and a very lucky thing for me I didn't 
 do it, for, — would you believe it ? — the dear girl was in 
 love with me all the time." 
 
 " Was she really 2" said I, who recollected that Miss 
 Gam's love of those days showed itself in a very singular 
 manner ; but the fact is, when women are most in love 
 they most disguise it. 
 
 " Over head and ears in love with poor Dennis," 
 resumed that worthy fellow, " who'd ever have thought 
 it ? But I have it from the best authority, from her 
 own mother, with whom I'm not over and above good 
 friends now, but of this fact she assured me, and I'll tell 
 you when and how. 
 
 " We were quartered at Cork three years after we 
 were at Weedon, and it was our last year at home, and 
 a great mercy that my dear girl spoke in time, or where 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 235 
 
 should we have been now ? Well; one clay, marching 
 home from parade, I saw a lady seated at an open 
 window by another, who seemed an invalid, and the 
 lady at the window, who was dressed in the profoundest 
 mourning, cried out, with a scream, ' Gracious heavens ! 
 it's Mr. Haggarty of the 120th.' 
 
 " ' Sure I know r that voice,' says I to Whiskerton. 
 
 " * It's a great mercy you don't know it a deal too 
 well,' says he, ' it's Lady Gammon. She's on some 
 husband-hunting scheme, depend on it, for that daughter 
 of hers. She was at Bath last year on the same errand, 
 and at Cheltenham the year before, where, Heaven bless 
 you ! she's as well known as the Hen and Chickens.' 
 
 " ' I'll thank you not to spe.ak disrespectfully of Miss 
 Jemima Gam,' said I to Whiskerton ; ' she's of one of 
 the first families in Ireland, and whoever says a w T ord 
 against a woman I once proposed for, insults me, — do 
 you understand ?' 
 
 " ' Well, marry her, if you like,' says Whiskerton, 
 quite peevish, ' marry her, and be hanged !' 
 
 " Marry her ! the very idea of it set my brain a 
 whirling, and made me a thousand times more mad 
 than I am by nature. 
 
 " You may be sure I walked up the hill to the 
 parade-ground that afternoon, and with a beating heart 
 too. I came to the widow's house. It was called ' New 
 Molloy ville,' as this is. Wherever she takes a house for 
 six months, she calls it ' New Molloy ville ;' and has had 
 one in Mallow, in Bandon, in Sligo, in Castlebar, in 
 Formoy, in Drogheda, and the deuce knows where 
 besides ; but the blinds were down, and though I 
 thought I saw somebody behind 'em, no notice was 
 
236 men's wives. 
 
 taken of poor Denny Haggarty, and I paced up and 
 down all mess-time in hopes of catching a glimpse of 
 Jemima, but in vain. The next day I was on the ground 
 again ; I was just as much in love as ever, that's the 
 fact. I'd never been in that way before, look you, and 
 when once caught, I knew it was for life. 
 
 " There's no use in telling you how long I beat about 
 the bush, but when I did get admittance to the house 
 (it was through the means of young Castlereagh Mol- 
 loy, whom you may remember at Leamington, and who 
 was at Cork for the regatta, and used to dine at our 
 mess, and had taken a mighty fancy to me), when I did 
 get into the house, I say, I rushed in medias res at 
 once ; I couldn't keep myself quiet, my heart was too 
 full. 
 
 " Fitz ! I shall never forget the day, — the moment 
 I was inthrojuiced into the dthrawing-room" (as he 
 began to be agitated, Dennis's brogue broke out with 
 greater richness than ever, but though a stranger may 
 catch, and repeat from memory, a few words, it is next 
 to impossible for him to keep up a conversation in Irish, 
 so that we had best give up all attempts to imitate 
 Dennis), " when I saw old Mother Gam," said he, " my 
 feelings overcame me all at once ; I rowled down on the 
 ground, sir, as if I'd been hit by a musket-ball. ' Dearest 
 madam,' says I, ' I'll die if you don't give me Jemima.' 
 
 " 4 Heavens ! Mr. Haggarty,' says she, ' how you 
 seize me with surprise ! Castlereagh, my dear nephew, 
 had you not better leave us V and away he went, light- 
 ing a cigar, and leaving me still on the floor. 
 
 " ' Rise, Mr. Haggarty,' continued the widow, * I 
 will not attempt to deny that this constancy towards my 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 237 
 
 daughter is extremely affecting, however sudden your 
 present appeal may be. I will not attempt to deny 
 that, perhaps, Jemima may feel a similar; but, as I 
 said, I never could give my daughter to a Catholic' 
 
 " ' I'm as good a Protestant as yourself, ma'am,' 
 says I ; ' my mother was an heiress, and we were all 
 brought up her way.' 
 
 " ' That makes the matter very different,' says she, 
 turning up the whites of her eyes. * How could I ever 
 have reconciled it to my conscience to see my blessed 
 child married to a Papist ? How could I ever have 
 taken him to Molloyville ? Well, this obstacle being 
 removed, / must put myself no longer in the way be- 
 tween two young people. / must sacrifice myself, as I 
 always have when my darling girl was in question. 
 You shall see her, the poor, dear, lovely, gentle sufferer, 
 and learn your fate from her own lips.' 
 
 " ' The sufferer ma'am,' says I ; ' has Miss Gam 
 been ill V 
 
 " ' What ! haven't you heard V cried the widow. 
 'Haven't you heard of the dreadful illness which so 
 nearly carried her from me ? For nine weeks, Mr. 
 Haggarty, I watched her day and night, without taking 
 a wink of sleep, — for nine weeks she lay trembling be- 
 tween death and life, and I paid the doctor eighty-three 
 guineas. She is restored now, but she is the wreck of 
 the beautiful creature she was. Suffering, and, perhaps, 
 another disappointment — but we won't mention that 
 now — have pulled her so down. But I will leave you, 
 and prepare my sweet girl for this strange, this entirely 
 unexpected visit.' 
 
 " I won't tell you what took place between me and 
 
238 men's wives. 
 
 Jemima, to whom I was introduced as she sat in the 
 darkened room, poor sufferer ! nor describe to you with 
 what a thrill of joy I seized (after groping about for it) 
 her poor emaciated hand. She did not withdraw it ; I 
 came out of that room an engaged man, sir ; and now 
 I was enabled to show her that I had always loved her 
 sincerely, for there was my will, made three years back, 
 in her favour ; that night she refused me, as I told ye, I 
 would have shot myself, but they'd have brought me in 
 non compos, and my brother Mick would have contested 
 the will, and so I determined to live, in order that she 
 might benefit by my dying. I had but a thousand 
 pounds then, since that my father has left me two more ; 
 I willed every shilling upon her, as you may fancy, and 
 settled it upon her when we married, as we did soon 
 after. It was not for some time that I w T as allowed to 
 see the poor girl's face, or, indeed, was aware of the 
 horrid loss she had sustained. Fancy my agony, my 
 dear fellow, when I saw that beautiful wreck !" 
 
 There was something not a little affecting, I think, 
 in the conduct of this brave fellow ; that he never once, 
 as he told his story, seemed to allude to the possibility 
 of his declining to marry a woman who was not the 
 same as the woman he loved ; but that he was quite as 
 faithful to her when ill, hideous, and blind, as he had 
 been when captivated by the poor, tawdry charms of the 
 si \\y miss of Leamington. It was hard that such a noble 
 heart as this should be flung away upon yonder foul 
 mass of greedy vanity. Was it hard, or not, that he 
 should remain deceived in his obstinate humility, and 
 continue to admire the selfish, silly being whom he had 
 chosen to worship ? 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE. 239 
 
 " I should have been appointed surgeon of the re- 
 giment," continued Dennis, "soon after, when it was or- 
 dered abroad to Jamaica, where it now is. But my 
 wife would not hear of going, and said she would break 
 her heart if she left her mother. So I retired on half- 
 pay, and took this cottage ; and in case any practice 
 should fall in my way, why there is my name on the 
 brass plate, and I'm ready for any thing that comes. 
 But the only case that ever did come was one day when 
 I was driving my wife in the chaise, and another, one 
 night of a beggar with a broken head. My wife makes 
 me a present of a baby every year, and we've no debts ; 
 and between you and me and the post, as long as my 
 mother-in-law is out of the house, I'm as happy as I 
 need be." 
 
 " What, you and the old lady don't get on well ?" 
 said I. 
 
 " I can't say we do ; it's not in nature, you know," 
 said Dennis, with a faint grin. " She comes into the 
 house, and turns it topsy-turvy. When she's here I'm 
 obliged to sleep in the scullery. She's never paid her 
 daughter's income since the first year, though she brags 
 about her sacrifices as if she had ruined herself for Je- 
 mima ; and, besides, when she's here, there's a whole 
 dan of the Molloys, horse, foot, and dragoons, that are 
 quartered upon us, and eat me out of house and home." 
 
 " And is Molloyville such a fine place as the widow 
 described it ?" asked I, laughing, and not a little curi- 
 ous. 
 
 " Oh, a mighty fine place entirely !" said Dennis. 
 u There's the oak park of two hundred acres, the finest 
 land ye ever saw, only they've cut all the wood down. 
 
240 men's wives. 
 
 The garden in the old Molloy's time, they say, was the 
 finest ever seen in the west of Ireland ; but they've 
 taken all the glass to mend the house windows, and 
 small blame to them either. There's a clear rent roll 
 of three and fifty hundred a-year, only it's in the hand 
 of receivers ; besides other debts, on which there is no 
 land security." 
 
 " Your cousin-in-law, Castlereagh Molloy, won't conn 
 into a large fortune ?" 
 
 " Oh, he'll do very well," said Dennis. " As long as 
 he can get credit, he's not the fellow to stint himself. 
 Faith, I was fool enough to put my name to a bit of 
 paper for him, and they could not catch him in Mayo ; 
 they laid hold of me at Kingstown here. And there 
 was a pretty to do. Didn't Mrs. Gam say I was ruin- 
 ing her family, that's all ? I paid it by instalments 
 (for all my money is settled on Jemima) ; and Castle- 
 reagh, who's an honourable fellow, offered me any sat- 
 isfaction in life. Any how, he couldn't do more than 
 that? 
 
 " Of course not, and now you're friends." 
 
 " Yes, and he and his aunt have had a tiff, too ; and 
 he abuses her properly, I warrant ye. He says that 
 she carried about Jemima from place to place, and flung 
 her at the head of every unmarried man in England 
 a'most, — my poor Jemima, and she all the while dying 
 in love with me! As soon as she got over the small- 
 pox — she took it at Fermoy — God bless her, I wish I'd 
 been by to be her nurse-tender, — as soon as she was 
 rid of it, the old lady said to Castlereagh, i Castlereagh, 
 go to the bar'cks, and find out in the army list where 
 the 120th is.' Off she came to Cork hot foot. It ap- 
 
den ms h ag g Arty's wife. 241 
 
 pears that while she was ill, Jemima's love for me 
 showed itself in such a violent way that her mother 
 was overcome, and promised that, should the dear child 
 recover, she w r ould try and bring us together. Oastle- 
 reagh says she would have gone after us to Jamaica." 
 
 " I have no doubt she would," said I. 
 
 " Could you have a stronger proof of love than 
 that ?" cried Dennis. " My dear girl's illness and fright- 
 ful blindness have, of course, injured her health and 
 her temper. She cannot in her position look to the 
 children, you know, and so they come under my charge 
 for the most part ; and her temper is unequal, certainly. 
 But you see what a sensitive, refined, elegant creature 
 she is, and may fancy that she's often put out by a 
 rough fellow like me." 
 
 Here Dennis left me, saying it was time to go and 
 walk out the children ; and I think his story has matter 
 of some wholesome reflection in it for bachelors who are 
 about to change their condition, or may console some who 
 are mourning their celibacy. Many, gentleman, if you 
 like ; leave your comfortable dinner at the club for cold 
 mutton and curl papers at your home ; give up your 
 books or pleasures, and take to yourselves wives and 
 children ; but think well on what you do first, as I have 
 no doubt you will after this advice and example. Ad- 
 vice is always useful in matters of love ; men always 
 •take it; they always follow other people's opinions, not 
 their own : they always profit by example. When they 
 see a pretty woman, and feel the delicious madness of 
 love coming over them, they always stop to calculate 
 her temper, her money, their own money, or suitable- 
 ness for the married life, * * * Ha, ha, ha ! Let 
 11 
 
2-42 men's wives. 
 
 us fool in this way no more. I have been in love forty- 
 three times with all ranks and conditions of women, 
 and would have married every time if they would have 
 let me. How many wives had King Solomon, the 
 wisest of men ? And is not that story a warning to us 
 that Love is master of the wisest ? It is only fools who 
 defy him. * 
 
 I must come, however, to the last, and perhaps the 
 saddest, part of poor Denny Haggarty's history. I met 
 him once more, and in such a condition as made me 
 determine to write this history. 
 
 In the month of June last, I happened to be at 
 Richmond, a delightful little place of retreat ; and there, 
 sunning himself upon the terrace, was my old friend of 
 the 120th ; he looked older, thinner, poorer, and more 
 wretched, than I had ever seen him. 
 
 " What ! you have given up Kingstown V 9 said I, 
 shaking him by the hand, 
 
 " Yes," says he. 
 
 " And is my lady and your family here at Rich- 
 mond ?" 
 
 " No," says he, with a sad shake of the head ; and 
 the poor fellow's hollow eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " Good Heavens, Denny ! what's the matter f said 
 I. He was squeezing my hand like a vice as I spoke. 
 
 " They've left me !" he burst out with a dreadful 
 shout of passionate grief — a horrible scream which 
 seemed to be wrenched out of his heart ; " left me !" 
 said he, sinking down on a seat, and clenching his 
 great fists, and shaking his lean arms wildly. " I'm a 
 wise man now, Mr. Fitz-Boodle. Jemima has gone 
 away from me, and yet you know how I loved her, and 
 
DENNIS HAGGARTY's WIFE. 243 
 
 how happy we were ! I've got nobody now ; but I'll 
 die soon, that's one comfort; and to think it's she that'll 
 kill me after all !" 
 
 The story, which he told with a wild and furious 
 lamentation such as is not known among men of our 
 cooler country, and such as I don't like now to recall, 
 was a very simple one. The mother-in-law had taken 
 possession of the house, and had driven him from it. 
 His property at his marriage was settled on his wife. 
 She had never loved him, and told him this secret at 
 last, and drove him out of doors with her selfish scorn 
 and ill temper. The boy had died ; the girls were bet- 
 ter, he said, brought up among the Molloys than they 
 could be with him ; and so he was quite alone in the 
 world, and was living, or rather dying, on forty pounds 
 a-year. 
 
 His troubles are very likely over by this time. The 
 two fools who caused his misery will never read this 
 history of him ; they never read godless stories in mag- 
 azines : and I wish, honest reader, that you and I went 
 to church as much as they do. These people are not 
 wicked because of their religious observances, but in spite 
 of them. They are too dull to understand humility, 
 too blind to see a tender and simple heart under a 
 rough ungainly bosom. They are sure that all their 
 conduct towards my poor friend here has been perfectly 
 righteous, and that they have given proofs of the most 
 Christian virtue. Haggarty's wife is considered by her 
 friends as a martyr to a savage husband, and her 
 mother is the angel that has come to rescue her. All 
 they did was to cheat him and desert him. And safe 
 in that wonderful self-complacency with which the foola 
 
 
244 
 
 of this earth are endowed, they have not a single pang 
 of conscience for their villany towards him, and con- 
 sider their heartlessness as a proof and consequence of 
 their spotless piety and virtue. 
 
THE 'S WIFE. 
 
 We lay down on a little mound at a half league from 
 the city gates in a pleasant grass besprinkled with all 
 the flowers of summer. The river went shining by us, 
 jumping over innumerable little rocks, and by beds of 
 waving, whispering rushes, until it reached the old city 
 bridge with its dismantled tower and gate, under the 
 shadow of which sat Maximilian in his eternal punt 
 bobbing for gudgeon. Further on you saw the ancient 
 city walls and ramparts, with the sentinels pacing be- 
 fore the blue and yellow barriers, and the blue eagle of 
 Pumpernickel over the gate. All the towers and 
 steeples of the town rose behind the grim bastions, 
 under the clear blue sky ; the bells were ringing as 
 they always are, the birds in the little wood hard by 
 were singing and chirping, the garden-houses and tav- 
 erns were full of students drinking beer, and resounded 
 with their choruses. To the right was the old fortress, 
 with its gables and pinnacles cresting the huge hill, up 
 which a zig-zag path toiled painfully. 
 
 " It is easier," said I, with much wisdom, " to come 
 down that hill than to mount it." I suppose the rob- 
 ber-knights who inhabited Udolf of old, chose the situa- 
 tion for that reason. If they saw a caravan in the 
 plain here, they came down upon it with an impetus 
 that infallibly overset the guards of the merchants' 
 
246 men's wives. 
 
 treasure. If the dukes took a fancy to attack it, the 
 escaladers, when they reached the top of the eminence, 
 were so out of wind that they could be knocked over 
 like so many penguins, and were cut down before they 
 had rallied breath enough to cry quarter. From Udolf 
 you could batter the town to pieces in ten minutes. 
 What a skurry there would be if a shell fell plump into 
 the market-place, and what a deal of eggs and butter 
 would be smashed there ! Hark ! there is a bugle. 
 
 " It is the mad trumpeter," said Schneertbart. 
 " Half the fortress is given up now to the madmen of 
 the principality, and the other half is for the felons. 
 See ! there is a gang of them at work on the road 
 yonder." 
 
 " Is Udolf any relation of the Castle of Udolpho f 
 
 " It has its mysteries," said Milchbrod, nodding his 
 head solemnly, " as well as that castle which Lord 
 Byron has rendered immortal. Was it not Lord 
 Byron ?" 
 
 " Caspar Milchbrod, I believe it was," answered I. 
 " Do you know any of them ? If you have a good 
 horrid story of ghosts, robbers, cut-throats, and murders, 
 pray tell it ; we have an hour yet to dinner, and mur- 
 der is my delight !" 
 
 " I shall tell you the story of Angelica, the wife of 
 the — Hum !" said he. 
 
 " Whose wife?" 
 
 " That is the point of the story. You may add it to 
 your histories of 'Men's Wives,' that are making such a 
 sensation all over England and Germany. Listen !" 
 
 Schneetbart, at the mention of the story, first jump- 
 ed up as if he would make off; but, being fat and of 
 
-'s wife. 247 
 
 an indolent turn, he thought better of it, and, pulling 
 the flap of his cap over his face, and sprawling out on 
 his back, like the blue spread-eagle over the tower-gate, 
 incontinently fell asleep. 
 
 Milchbrod darting at him a look of scorn, began the 
 following history : 
 
 " In the time of Duke Bernard the Invincible, 
 whose victory over Sigismund of Kalbsbratia obtained 
 him the above w r ell-merited title (for though he was 
 beaten several times afterwards, yet his soul was en- 
 couraged to the end, and, therefore, he was denominated 
 Invincible with perfect justice). In Duke Bernard's 
 time the fortress of UdolE was much more strongly gar- 
 risoned than at present, though a prison then as now. 
 The great hall, where you may now see the poor mad- 
 men of the duchy eating their humble broth from their 
 wooden trenchers and spoons, w r as the scene of many a 
 gallant feast, from which full butts of wine returned 
 empty ; fat oxen disappeared, all except the bone ; at 
 which noble knights got drunk by the side of spotless 
 ladies, and were served off gold and out of jewelled 
 flagons by innumerable pages and domestics in the 
 richest of liveries. A sad change is it now, my friend. 
 When I think the livery of the place is an odious red 
 and yellow serge, that the servants of the castle have 
 their heads shaved and a chain to their legs instead of 
 round their necks, and when I think that the glories 
 and festivities of Udolf are now passed aw r ay for ever ! 
 Oh ! golden days of chivalry, a descendant of the 
 Milchbrods may well deplore you ! 
 
 " The court where they beat hemp now was once 
 a stately place of arms, where warriors jousted and 
 
248 
 
 knights ran at the ring. Ladies looked on from the 
 windows of the great hall and from the castellan's 
 apartments, and, though the castle was gay and lordly 
 as a noble castle should be, yet were not the purposes 
 of security and punishment forgotten ; under the great 
 hall were innumerable dungeons, vaults, and places of 
 torture, where the enemies of our dukes suffered the 
 punishment of their crimes. They have been bricked 
 up now for the most part, for what I cannot but call a 
 foolish philanthropy found these dungeon too moist 
 and too dark for malefactors of the present day, who 
 must, forsooth, have whitewashed rooms and dry bed- 
 dings, whilst our noble ancestors were fain to share 
 their cell with toads, serpents, and darkness ; and some- 
 times instead of flock mattrasses and iron bedsteads, to 
 stretch their limbs on the rack. Civilization, my dear 
 sir " 
 
 Here a loud snort from Schneertbart possibly gave 
 Milchbrod a hint, that he was digressing too much ; 
 and, omitting his opinions about civilization, he pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 " In Duke Bernard's time, then, this prison was in 
 its most palmy and flourishing state. The pains of the 
 rack and the axe were at that time much more frequent 
 than at present, and the wars of religion in which Ger- 
 many was plunged, and in which our good duke, ac- 
 cording to his convictions, took alternately the Roman- 
 ist and the Reformed side, brought numbers of our no- 
 bles into arms, into conspiracies and treasons, and con- 
 sequently, into prison and torture-chambers. I men- 
 tion these facts to show, that as the prison was a place 
 of some importance, and containing people of rank, the 
 
THE 's WIFE. 249 
 
 guardianship was naturally confided to a person in 
 whom the duke could place the utmost confidence. 
 Have you ever heard of the famous Colonel Dolch en- 
 blitz ?" 
 
 I confessed I had not. 
 
 " Dolchenblitz, as a young man, was one of the 
 most illustrious warriors of his day ; and, as a soldier, 
 captain and afterwards colonel of free companies, had 
 served under every flag in every war and in every 
 country in Europe. He, under the French, conquered 
 the Milanese; he then passed over into the Spanish 
 service, and struck down King Francis at Pavia with 
 his hammer-of arms ; he was the fourth over the wall 
 of Rome when it was sacked by the constable, and 
 having married and made a considerable plunder there, 
 he returned to his native country, where he distinguished 
 himself alternately in the service of the emperor and 
 the Reformed princes. A wound in the leg prevented 
 him at length from being so active in the field as he 
 had been accustomed to be ; and Duke Bernard the 
 Invincible, knowing his great bravery, his skill, his un- 
 alterable fidelity (which was indestructible as long as 
 his engagement lasted), and his great cruelty and 
 sternness, chose him very properly to be governor of 
 his state fortress and prison. 
 
 "The lady whom Colonel Dolchenblitz married was 
 a noble and beautiful Roman, and his wooing of her it 
 would appear was somewhat short. ' I took the best 
 method of winning Frau Dolehenblitz's heart,' he would 
 say. ' I am an ugly old trooper, covered with scars, 
 fond of drink and dice, with no more manners than 
 my battle-horse, and she, forsooth, was in love with 
 11 # 
 
250 men's wives. 
 
 a young countlet who was as smooth as herself 
 and as scented as a flower-garden ; but when my 
 black-riders dragged her father and brother into 
 the court-yard, and had ropes ready to hang them at 
 the gate, I warrant my Angelica found that she loved 
 me better than her scented lover ; and so I saved the 
 lives of my father and brother-in-law, and the dear 
 creature consented to be mine. 
 
 "Of this marriage there came but one child, a 
 daughter ; and the Roman lady presently died, not al- 
 together sound in her senses, it was said, from the 
 treatment to which her rough husband subjected her. 
 The widower did not pretend to much grief ; and the 
 daughter who had seen her mother sneered at, sworn 
 at, beaten daily when her gallant father was in liquor, 
 had never had any regard for her poor mother ; and, 
 in her father's quarrels with his lady, used from her 
 earliest years to laugh and rejoice and take the old 
 trooper's side. You may imagine from this,' cried 
 Milchbrod, 'that she was not brought up in a very 
 amiable school. Ah !' added the youth, with a blush, 
 1 how unlike was she, in all respects but in beauty, to 
 my Lischen !' 
 
 " There is still in the castle gallery a picture of the 
 Angelica, who bore the reputation at eighteen of being 
 one of the most beautiful women in the world. She is 
 represented in a dress of red velvet looped up at the 
 sleeves and breast with jewels, her head is turned over 
 her shoulder looking at you, and her long yellow hair 
 flows over her neck. Her eyes are blue, her eyebrows 
 of an auburn colour, her lips open and smiling; but 
 that smile is so diabolical, and those eyes have such an 
 
vine WIFE. 251 
 
 infernal twinkle, that it is impossible to look at the picture 
 without a shudder, and I declare, for my part, that I 
 would not like to be left alone in a room with the por- 
 trait and its horrid glassy eyes always following and 
 leering after you. 
 
 From a very early age her father would always 
 insist upon having her by his side at table, where I 
 promise you the conversation was not always as choice 
 as in a nunnery, and where they drank deeper than at a 
 hermitage. After dinner the dice w r ould be brought, 
 and the little girl often called the mains and threw for 
 her father, and he said she always brought him luck 
 when she did so. But this must have been a fancy of the 
 old soldier's, for, in spite of his luck, he grew poorer and 
 poorer, all his plunder taken in the wars went gradually 
 dow r n the throat of the dice-box, and he was presently 
 so poor that his place as governor of the prison was his 
 only means of livelihood, and that he could only play 
 once a month when his pay came in. 
 
 " In spite of his poverty and dissolute life and his 
 ill-treatment of his lady, he was inordinately proud of 
 his marriage ; for the truth is, the lady was of the 
 Colonna family. There was not a princess of Germany 
 who, in the matter of birth, was more haughty than 
 Madame Angelica, the governor's daughter ; and the 
 young imp of Lucifer, when she and her father sat at 
 drink and dice with the lance-knights and officers, 
 always took the pas of her own father, and had a 
 raised seat for herself, while her company sat on benches. 
 The old soldier admired this pride in his daughter as 
 lie admired every other good or bad quality she pos- 
 sessed. She had often seen the prisoners flogged in the 
 
252 men's wives. 
 
 court-yard, and never turned pale. 4 Par Dieu P the 
 father would say, i the girl has a gallant courage !' If 
 she lost at dice she would swear in her shrill voice as 
 well as any trooper, and the father would laugh till the 
 tears ran down his old cheeks. She could not read 
 very well, but she could ride like an Amazon ; and 
 Count Sprinboch (the court chamberlain, who was im- 
 prisoned ten years at Udolf for treading on the duchess- 
 dowager's gouty toe), taking a fancy to the child taught 
 her to dance and sing to the mandolin, in both of which 
 accomplishments she acquired great skill. 
 
 " Such were the accomplishments of the Angelica, 
 when, at about the sixteenth year of her age, the court 
 came to reside in the town ; for the Imperialists were 
 in possession of our residence, and here, at a hundred 
 miles away from them, Duke Bernard the Invincible 
 was free from .molestation. On the first public day the 
 governor of the fort came down in his litter to pay his 
 respects to the sovereign, and his daughter, the lovely 
 Angelica, rode a white palfrey and ambled most grace- 
 fully at his side. 
 
 " The appearance of such a beauty set all the court- 
 gallants in a flame. Not one of the maids of honour 
 could compare with her, and their lovers left them by 
 degrees. The steep road up to the castle yonder was 
 scarce ever without one or more cavaliers upon it pink- 
 ed out in their best, as gay as chains and feathers could 
 make them, and on the way to pay their court to the 
 Lily of Udolf ; the lily — the Tiger-lily, forsooth ! But 
 man, foolish man, only looked to the face, and not to 
 the soul, as I did when I selected my Lischen. 
 
 " The drinking and dicing now went on more gaily 
 
THE 's WIFE. 253 
 
 than it had done for many years ; for when the young 
 noblemen sit down to play with a lady we know who it 
 is that wins, and Madame Angelica \vas,pardi, not squea- 
 mish in gaining their money. It was, ' Fair sir, I will be 
 double or quits with you.' ' Noble baron, I will take you 
 three to one.' ' Worthy count, I will lay my gold chain 
 against your bay gelding.' And so forth. And by the 
 side of the lovely daughter sat the old father, tossing 
 the drink off, and flinging the dice, and roaring, swear- 
 ing, and singing, like a godless old trooper as he was. 
 Then, of mornings there would be hunting and hawk- 
 ing parties, and it was always who should ride by the 
 Angelica's side, and who should have the best horse, 
 and the finest doublet, and leap the biggest ditch, over 
 which she could jump, I warrant you, as well as the 
 best rider there. The staid matrons and ladies of the 
 court avoided this syren, but what cared she so long as 
 the men were with her ? The duke did not like to see 
 his young men thus on the road to ruin ; but his advice 
 and his orders were all in vain. The Erb Prinz him- 
 self, Prince Maurice, was caught by the infection, and 
 having fallen desperately in love with Angelica, and 
 made her great presents of jewels and horses, was sent 
 by his father to Wittenberg, where he was told to for- 
 get his love in his books. 
 
 "There was, however, in the duke's service, an 
 especial friend and favourite of the hereditary prince, a 
 young gentleman by the name of Ernst von Waldberg, 
 who, though sent back to the university along with the 
 young duke, had not the heart to remain there, for, 
 indeed, his heart was at Castle Udolf with the bewitch- 
 ing Angelica. This unlucky and simple Ernst was the 
 
254 men's wives. 
 
 most passionate of all the Angelica's admirers, and had 
 committed a thousand extravagancies for her sake. 
 He had ridden into Hungary and brought back a 
 Turkish turban for her, with an unbeliever's head in it, 
 too. He had sold half his father's estate and bought 
 a jewel with it, which he presented to her. He had 
 wagered a hundred gold crowns against a lock of her 
 hair, and, having won, caused a casket to be made with 
 the money, on which was engraved an inscription by the 
 court poet, signifying that the gold within the casket was 
 a thousand times more valuable than the gold whereof 
 it was made, and that one was the dross of the earth, 
 whereas the other came from an angel. 
 
 " An angel, indeed ! If they had christened that 
 Angelica Diabolica, they would have been nearer the 
 mark ; but the devils were angels once, and one of these 
 fallen ones was Angelica. 
 
 " When the poor young fellow had well-nigh spent 
 his all in presents and jewels for Angelica, or over the 
 tables and dice with her father, he bethought him that 
 he would ask the young lady in marriage, and so hum- 
 bly proffered his suit. 
 
 " ' How much land have you, my Lord Ernst V 
 said she, in a scornful way. 
 
 " ' Alas ! I am but a younger son. My brother 
 Max has the family estate, and I but an old tower and 
 a few acres, which came to me from my mother's fam- 
 ily,' answered Ernst. But he did not say how his bro- 
 ther had often paid his debts and filled his purse, and 
 how many of the elder's crowns had been spent over 
 the dice-table and had gone to enrich Angelica and her 
 father. 
 
THE S WIFE. 255 
 
 " ' But you must have great stores of money,' con- 
 tinued she, ' for what gentleman of the court spends so 
 gallantly as you V 
 
 " * It is my brother's money,' said Ernst, gloomily, 
 ' and I will ask him for no more of it. But I have 
 enough left to buy a horse and a sword, and with these, 
 if you will but me mine, I vow to win fame and wealth 
 enough for any princess in Christendom.' 
 
 " ' A horse and sword !' cried Angelica ; t a pretty 
 fortune, forsooth! Any one of my father's troopers 
 has as much ! You win fame and wealth ; you a fit- 
 ting husband for the best lady in Christendom ? Psha ! 
 Look what you have done as yet, Sir Ernst, and brag 
 no more. You had a property, and you spent it in 
 three months upon a woman you never saw before. I 
 have no fancy to marry a beggar, or to trust to an elder 
 brother for charity, or to starve in rags with the rats in 
 your family tower. Away with you, Sir Spendthrift, 
 buy your horse and sword if you will, and go travel 
 and keep yourself and your horse ; you will find the 
 matter hard enough without having a wife at your pil- 
 lion.' 
 
 "And, so saying, she called her huntsmen and 
 hawks, and, with a gay train of gentlemen behind her, 
 went out into the woods, as usual, where Diana herself, 
 had she been out a-hunting that day, could not have 
 been more merry, nor looked more beautiful and royal. 
 
 " As for Ernst, when he found how vain his love 
 was, and that he had only been encouraged by Angelica 
 in order to be robbed and cast away, a deep despair 
 took possession of the poor lad's soul, and he went in 
 anguish back to his brother's house, who tried, but in 
 
256 men's wives. 
 
 vain, to console him; for, having stayed awhile with 
 his brother, Ernst one morning suddenly took horse and 
 rode away, never to return. The next thing that his 
 weeping elder brother heard of him was that he had 
 passed into Hungary, and had been slain by the Turk 
 before Buda. One of his comrades in the war brought 
 back a token from Ernst to his brother Max — it w r as 
 the gold casket which contained the hair of Angelica. 
 
 "Angelica no more wept at receiving this news than 
 she had done at Ernst's departure. She hunted with 
 her gallants as before, and on the very night after she 
 had heard of poor young Ernst's death, appeared at 
 supper in a fine gold chain and scarlet robe he had 
 given her. The hardness of her heart did not seem to 
 deter the young gentlemen of Saxony from paying 
 court to her, and her cruelty only added to the univer- 
 sal fame of her beauty. 
 
 " Though she had so many scores of lovers, and 
 knew well enough that these do not increase with age, 
 she had never as yet condescended to accept of one for 
 a husband, and others, and of the noblest sort, might 
 be mentioned, who, as well as Ernst, had been ruined 
 and forsaken by her. A certain witch had told her 
 that she should marry a nobleman who should be the 
 greatest swordsman of his day. Who was the greatest 
 warrior of Germany ? I am not sure that she did not 
 look for King Gustave to divorce his wife and fall on 
 his knees to her, or for dark Wallenstein to conjure the 
 death of his princess and make Angelica the lady of 
 Sagan. Thus time went on. Lovers went up the hill 
 of Udolf, and, in sooth ! lovers came down ; the lady 
 there was still the loveliest of the land, and when the 
 
THE 's WIFE. 257 
 
 crown prince came home from Wittenberg she would 
 still have been disposed to exercise her wiles upon 
 him, but that it was now too late, for the wise duke, 
 his highness's father, had married the young lord 
 to a noble princess of Bavaria, in whose innocence he 
 forgot the dangerous and wicked Angelica. I promise 
 you the lady of Udolf sneered prettily at the new prin- 
 cess, and talked of l his highness's humpbacked Ve- 
 nus ;' all which speeches were carried to court, and 
 inspired the duke with such a fury, that he was for 
 shutting up Angelica as a prisoner in her father's own 
 castle ; but wise counsellors intervened, and it was 
 thought best to let the matter drop. For, indeed, com- 
 parisons between the royal princess and the lady of 
 Udolf would have been only unfavourable to the form- 
 er, who, between ourselves, was dark of complexion, 
 and not quite so straight either in the back as was her 
 rival. 
 
 " Presently there came to court Max, Ernst's elder 
 brother, a grave man, of a sharp and bitter wit, given 
 to books and studies, but, withal, gentle and generous 
 to the poor. No one knew how generous until he died, 
 when there followed, weeping, such crowds of the hum- 
 bler sort his body to the grave as never was known in 
 that day, for the good old nobles were rather accus- 
 tomed to take than to give, and the Lord Max was of 
 the noblest and richest of all the families of the duchy. 
 
 "Calm as he was, yet, strange to say, he too was 
 speedily caught in the toils of Angelica, and seemed to be 
 as much in love with her as his unfortunate brother had 
 been. c I do not wonder at Ernst's passion for such an 
 angelical being,' he said, ' and can fancy any man dying 
 
258 men's wives. 
 
 in despair of winning her.' These words were carried 
 quickly to the lady of Udolf, and the next court party 
 where she met Max she did not fail to look towards 
 him with all the fascinations of her wonderful eyes, 
 from which Max, blushing and bowing, retreated com- 
 pletely overcome. You might see him on his grey 
 horse riding up the mountain to Udolf as often as his 
 brother had been seen on his bay ; and of all the de- 
 voted slaves Angelica had in her court this unhappy 
 man became the most subservient. He forsook his 
 books and calm ways of life to be always by the en- 
 chantress's side ; he, who had never cared for sport, now, 
 for the pleasure of following Angelica, became a regular 
 Nimrod of the chase ; and although, up to the time of 
 his acquaintance with her, he had abhorred wine and 
 gaming, he would pass nights now boozing with the 
 old drunkard her father, and playing at the dice with 
 him and his daughter. 
 
 " There was something in his love for her that was 
 quite terrible. Common, light-minded gallants of the 
 day, do not follow a woman as Max did, but if rebuffed 
 by one, fly off to another ; or, if overcome by a rival, 
 wish him good luck and betake themselves elsewhere. 
 This ardent gentlman, loving for the first time, seemed 
 resolved to have no rival near him, and Angelica could 
 scarcely pardon him for the way in which he got rid of 
 her lovers one after another. There was Baron Herman, 
 who was much in her good graces, and w r as sent aw T ay 
 to England by Max's influence with the duke ; there 
 was Count Augustus, with whom he picked a quarrel, 
 and whom he wounded in a duel. All the world 
 deplored the infatuation of this brave gentleman, and 
 
THE 's WIFE. 259 
 
 the duke himself took him to task for suffering himself 
 to be enslaved by a woman who had already been so 
 fatal to his family. 
 
 " He placed himself as such a dragon before her 
 gate that he drove away all wavering or faint-hearted 
 pretenders to her hand ; and it seemed pretty clear 
 that Angelica, if she would not marry him, would find 
 it very difficult to marry another. And why not marry 
 hirn ? He was noble, rich, handsome, wise, and brave. 
 What more could a lady require in a husband ? and 
 could the proud Angelica herself expect a better fate ? 
 ' In my mother's lifetime,' Max said, ' I cannot marry. 
 She is old now, and was much shaken by the death of 
 Ernst, and she would go to the grave with a curse on 
 her lips for me did she think I was about to marry the 
 woman who caused my brother's death.' 
 
 " Thus, although he did not actually offer his hand 
 to her, he came to be considered generally as her ac- 
 cepted lover ; and the gallants who before had been ever 
 round her fell off one by one. I am not sure whether 
 Madame Angelica was pleased with the alteration, and 
 whether she preferred the adoration of a single heart to 
 the love of many, to which she had been accustomed 
 before. Perhaps, however, her reasoning was this, c I am 
 sure of Max ; he is a husband of whom any woman 
 might be proud ; and very few nobles in Germany are 
 richer or of better blood than he. He cannot marry for 
 some time to come. Well, I am young, and can afford 
 to wait; and if, meanwhile, there present itself some 
 better name, fortune, and person than Max's, I am free 
 to choose, and can fling him aside like his brother before 
 him.' Meantime, thought she, I can dress Max to the 
 
260 men's wives. 
 
 menage of matrimony ; which meant, that she could 
 make a very slave of him, as she did ; and he was as 
 obedient to her caprice and whims as her page or her 
 waiting- worn an. 
 
 a The entertainments which were given at Castle 
 Udolf were rather more liked by the gentlemen than by 
 the ladies, who had little love for a person like Angelica, 
 the daughter of a man only ennobled yesterday — a wo- 
 man who lived, laughed, rode, gambled, in the society 
 of men as familiarly as if she had a beard on her chin 
 and a rapier at her side ; and, above all, a woman who 
 was incomparably handsomer than the handsomest of 
 her rivals. Thus ladies' visits to her were not frequent ; 
 nor, indeed, did she care much for their neglect. She 
 was not born, she said, to spin flax ; nor to embroider 
 cushions ; nor to look after housemaids and scullions, as 
 ladies do. She received her male guests as though she 
 were a queen, to whom they came to pay homage, and 
 little cared that their wives stayed at home. 
 
 " At one of her entertainments Max appeared with 
 two masks (it was the custom of those days for persons 
 to go so disguised ; and you would see at a court-ball 
 half the ladies, and men, especially the ugly of the form- 
 er sex, so habited) ; the one, coming up to Angelica, 
 withdrew his vizard, and she saw it was her ancient ad- 
 mirer the prince, who stayed for a while, besought her, 
 laughing, to keep his visit a secret from the princess, 
 and then left her to Max and the other mask ; but the 
 other did not remove his covering, though winningly 
 entreated thereto by Angelica. 
 
 " The mask and Max, after a brief conversation with 
 the lady of the castle, sat down to the tables to play at 
 
THE 's WIFE. 261 
 
 dice. And Max called presently to Angelica to come 
 and play for him, to the which invitation, nothing loth, 
 she acceded. That dice-box has a temptation for woman 
 as well as man, and woe to both if they yield to it ! 
 
 " ' Who is the mask V asked Angelica of Max. But 
 Max answered that his name was for the present a 
 mystery. 
 
 " ' Is he noble V said the scornful lady. 
 
 " * Did he not come hither with me and the prince ; 
 and am I in the habit of consorting with other than 
 nobles V replied Max, as haughty as she. ' The mask is 
 a nobleman, ay, and a soldier, who has done more exe- 
 cution in his time than any man in the army.' That he 
 was rich was very clear ; his purse was well filled ; 
 whether he lost or won, he laughed with easy gaiety ; 
 and Angelica could see under his mask how all the time 
 of the play his fierce, brilliant eyes watched and shone 
 on her. 
 
 " She and Max. who played against the stranger, 
 won from him a considerable sum. ' I would lose such 
 a sum,' said he, ' every night, if you, fair lady, would 
 but promise to win it from me ;' and, asking for, and 
 having been promised, a revenge, he gallantly took his 
 leave. 
 
 " He came the next night, and the partners against 
 him had the same good luck ; a third and a fourth 
 night Angelica received him, and, as she won always, 
 and as he was gay at losing as another is at winning, 
 and was always ready to laugh and joke with her father, 
 or to utter compliments to herself, Angelica began to 
 think the stranger one of the most agreeable of men. 
 
 " She began to grudge, too, to Max some of his 
 
262 men's wives. 
 
 winnings ; or, rather, she was angry both that he should 
 win and that he should not win enough : for Max would 
 stop playing in the midst, as it seemed, of a vein of good 
 luck ; saying that enough was won and lost for the 
 night ; that play was the amusement of gentlemen, not 
 their passion nor means of gain : whereon the mask 
 would gather up his crowns ; and greatly to the an- 
 noyance of Angelica, the play would cease. 
 
 " * If I could play with him alone,' thought she, 
 * there is no end to the sums which I might win of this 
 stranger ; and money we want, Heaven knows ; for my 
 father's pay is mortgaged thrice over to the Jews, and 
 we owe ten times as much as we can pay.' 
 
 " She found no great difficulty in managing an in- 
 terview with the stranger alone. He was always will- 
 ing, he said, to be at her side ; and Max being called at 
 this time into the country, the pair met by themselves, 
 or in the company of the tipsy old governor of Udolf, 
 who counted for no more than an extra flagon in the 
 room, and who would have let his daughter play for a 
 million, or sit down to a match with the foul fiend him- 
 self, were she so minded ; and here the mask and An- 
 gelica used to pass many long evenings together. 
 
 " But her lust of gain was properly punished ; for 
 when Max was gone, instead of winning, as she had 
 been wont to do in his company, Fortune seemed now 
 to desert her, and she lost night after night. Nor was 
 the mask one of the sort of players who could be paid 
 off by a smile, as some gallants had been ; or who would 
 take a ringlet as a receipt for a hundred crowns ; or 
 would play on credit, as Angelica would have done, had 
 he been willing. * Fair lady,' said he, i I am too old a 
 
 
THE 's WIFE. 263 
 
 soldier to play my ducats against smiles, though they 
 be from the loveliest lips in the world ; that which I 
 lose I pay ; that which I win I take. Such is always 
 the way with us in camp ; and ' donner und blitz P that 
 is the way I like best.' So the day Angelica proposed 
 to play him on credit he put up his purse, and laughing 
 took his leave. The next day she pawned a jewel, and 
 engaged him again ; and, in sooth, he went off laugh- 
 ing, as usual, his loud laugh, with the price of the 
 emerald in his pocket. 
 
 " When they were alone, it must be said that the 
 mask made no difficulty to withdraw his vizard, and 
 showed a handsome, pale, wild face ; with black, glaring 
 eyes ; sharp teeth, and black hair and beard. "When 
 asked what he should be called, he said, ' Call me 
 Wolfgang ; but, hist ! I am in the imperial service. The 
 duke would seize me were he to know that I was here ; 
 for,' added he, with a horrid grin, ' I slew a dear friend 
 of his in battle.' He always grinned, did Herr Wolf- 
 gang ; he laughed a hundred times a-day, ay, and drank 
 much, and swore more. There was something terrible 
 about him ; and he loved to tell terrible stories of the 
 wars, in which he could match for horror and cruelty 
 Col. Dolchenblitz himself. 
 
 " ' This is the man I would have for thy husband, 
 girl,' said he to his daughter; ; he is a thousand times 
 better than your puling courtiers and pale book-worms ; 
 a fellow that can drink his bottle, and does not fear the 
 devil himself; and can use his sword to carve out for 
 himself any fortune to which he may be minded. Thou 
 art but a child to him in play. See how he takes your 
 ducats from you, and makes the dice obey him. Cease 
 
264 men's wives. 
 
 playing with him, girl, or he will ruin us else ; and so 
 fill me another cup of wine.' 
 
 " It was in the bottom of the flagon that the last 
 words of the old man's speeches used commonly to end ; 
 and I am not sure that Angelica was not prepared to 
 think the advice given a very good one ; for it w r as in 
 the nature of this lovely girl to care for no man. But it 
 seemed to her, that in daring and wickedness this man 
 was a match for her ; and she only sighed that he 
 should be noble and rich enough, and that then she 
 might make him her own. For he dazzled her imagi- 
 nation with stories of great leaders of the day, the hon- 
 ours they won, and the wealth they obtained. l Think 
 of Wallenstein,' said he, ' but a humble page in a lady's 
 house ; a prince now, and almost a sovereign. Tilly 
 was but a portionless Flemish cadet ; and think of the 
 plunder of Magdeburg.' 
 
 " c I wish I had shared it,' said Angelica. 
 
 " 4 What ! and your father a Protestant V 
 
 " ' Psha !' replied the girl. At which Herr Wolf- 
 gang and her father would burst into a hoarse laugh, 
 and swear with loud oaths, that she deserved to be a 
 queen ; and would so drink her grace's health in many 
 a bumper. And then they would fall to the dice 
 again ; and Signor Wolfgang would win the last crown- 
 piece in the purse of either father or daughter, and at 
 midnight would take his leave. And a wonder was, that 
 no one knew whence he came or how he left the castle ; 
 for the sentry at the gate never saw him pass or enter. 
 
 "He would laugh when asked how. 'Psha!' he 
 would say, ' I am all mystery ; and I will tell as a se- 
 cret, that when I come or go I turn myself into a bird, 
 and fly in and out.' 
 
THE 's WIFE. 265 
 
 "And so, though he could not write his name, and 
 had no more manners than a trooper, and though he 
 won every penny of Angelica's money from her, the 
 girl had a greater respect and terror for him than for any 
 man alive ; and he made more way in her heart in a 
 fortnight than many a sighing lover would do in ten 
 years. 
 
 "Presently, Max returned from his visit to the 
 country; and Angelica began to make comparisons 
 between his calm, cold, stately, sneering manner, and 
 the honest daring of Herr Wolfgang his friend. ' It 
 is a pity,' thought she, i that he should have the fine 
 estate who could live on a book and a crust. If Herr 
 Wolfgang had Max's wealth, he would spend it like a 
 prince, and his wife would be the first lady in Germany.' 
 
 " Max came to invite Angelica to his castle of Wald- 
 berg ; it was prepared to receive her as to receive a 
 sovereign. She had never seen any thing more stately 
 than the gardens, or more costly than the furniture ; 
 and the lackeys in Max's livery were more numerous 
 and more splendid than those who waited on the duke 
 himself. He took her over his farms and villages ; it 
 was a two days' journey. He showed her his stores of 
 plate, and his cellars, the innumerable horses in his 
 stables, and flocks and cattle in his fields. As she saw 
 all these treasures, her heart grew colder towards Wolf- 
 gang ; and she began to think that Max would be a 
 better husband for her. But Herr Wolfgang did not 
 seem much cast down, though she bestowed scarce a 
 word upon him all day. 
 
 " 4 Would you take these lands and their lord, lady 
 12 
 
266 men's wives. 
 
 fair V whispered Max to Angelica, as they were riding 
 home. 
 
 " ' That would I !' cried she, smiling in triumph ; 
 and holding out her hand to Max, who kissing it very 
 respectfully, never quitted her side that day. 
 
 " She had now only frowns for Herr Wolfgang, to 
 whom she had been so gracious hitherto ; and at supper 
 that day, or at play afterwards, she scarce deigned to 
 say a word to him. But he laughed, and shouted, and 
 drank his wine as before. They played deep ; but Max, 
 the most magnificent of hosts, had always a casket filled 
 with gold by the side of Angelica ; who, therefore, little 
 cared to lose. 
 
 " The next day she spent in going over the treasury 
 of the castle, and the various chambers in it. There 
 was one room which they passed but did not enter. 
 'That was Ernst's room,' said Max, looking very 
 gloomy. ' My lord, what a frown !' said Angelica ; 
 4 can I bear a husband who frowns so ?' and quickly 
 passed into another chamber. At the end of the day 
 came the dice as usual. Angelica could not live with- 
 out them. They played, and Herr Wolfang lost a very 
 heavy sum, 5000 crowns. But he laughed, and bade 
 Max make out an order on his intendant, and signed it 
 with his name. 
 
 " ' I can write no more than that,' said he ; ' but 
 'tis enough for a gentleman. To-morrow, Sir Max, you 
 will give me my revenge V 
 
 " ' To-morrow,' said Max, i I will promise not to 
 balk you, and will play for any stake you will.' And 
 so they parted. 
 
 "The day after many lords and ladies began to 
 
THE 's WIFE. 267 
 
 arrive, and in the evening, to supper, came over from a 
 hunting-lodge he had in the neighbourhood, his high- 
 ness the hereditary prince, and his princess, who were 
 served at a table alone, Max waiting on them. c When 
 this castle is mine,' said Angelica, ' i" will be princess 
 liere, and my husband shall act the lacquey to no duke 
 in Christendom.' 
 
 " Dice and music were called as usual. i Will your 
 highness dance or play V But his highness preferred 
 dancing, as he was young and active ; and her highness 
 preferred dancing too, for she was crooked and out of 
 shape. The prince led out the Lady Angelica ; she 
 had never looked more beautiful, and swam through 
 the dance in a royal style indeed. 
 
 " As they were dancing, people came to say, ' The 
 Lord Max and Herr Wolfgang are at the dice, playing 
 very heavy stakes.' And so it was ; and Angelica, who 
 was as eager for play as a Turk for opium, went 
 presently to look at the players, around whom was 
 already a crowd wondering. 
 
 "But much as she loved play, Angelica was fright- 
 ened at the stakes played by Max and Wolfgang ; for 
 moderate as the Lord Max had been abroad, at home it 
 seemed to be a point of honour with him to be magnificent, 
 and he said he would refuse no stake that was offered 
 to him. 
 
 "'Three throws for 10,000 crowns,' said Wolfgang. 
 
 ' Make out an order for my intendant if I lose, and 
 I will sign it with my mark.' 
 
 "'Three throws for 10,000 crowns! — Done!' 
 answered Max. He lost. l The order, Herr Wolfgang, 
 must be on my intendant now, and your Austrian 
 woods will not have to suffer. Give me my revenge.' 
 
268 men's wives. 
 
 " ' Twenty thousand crowns against your farm and 
 woods of Avenbach.' 
 
 " ' They are worth only eighteen, but I said I would 
 refuse you nothing, and cry done ! Max tossed, and 
 lost the woods of Avenbach. 
 
 " ' Have you not played enough, my lords, for to- 
 day V said Angelica, somewhat frightened. 
 
 " i ISTo !' shouted Wolfgang, with his roaring laugh. 
 'No! in the devil's name, let us go on. I feel myself 
 in the vein, and have Lord Max's word that he will 
 take any bet of mine. I will play you 20,000 crowns 
 and your farm — my farm — against your barony and 
 village Weinheim.' 
 
 " ' Lord Max, I entreat — I command you not to 
 play !' cried Angelica. 
 
 u ' Done !' said Max. ' Weinheim against the crowns 
 and the farm.' He lost again. 
 
 " In an hour this unhappy gentleman lost all the 
 property that his forefathers had been gathering for 
 centuries ; his houses and lands, his cattle and horses, 
 his plate, arms, and furniture. Laughing and shouting, 
 Wolfgang still pressed him. 
 
 " ' I have no more,' said Max, ' you have my all ; — 
 but stay,' said he, ; I have one thing more. Here is 
 my bride, the Lady Angelica.' 
 
 K ' A hundred thousand crowns against her !' 
 shouted Wolfgang. 
 
 " ' Fool !' said Angelica, turning scornfully on Max, 
 4 do you think I will marry a beggar ? I said I would 
 take the lord of these lands,' added she, blushing, and 
 gazing on Wolfgang. 
 
 " ' He is at your feet, lady,' said Wolfgang, going 
 
THE 's WIFE. 269 
 
 down on his knee, and the prince at this moment 
 coming into the room, Max said bitterly, c I brought 
 you, my lord, to be present at a marriage, and a mar- 
 riage there shall be. Here is the lord of Waldberg who 
 weds the lady Angelica.' 
 
 " ' Ho ! a chaplain — a chaplain !' called the prince : 
 and there was one at hand, and before almost Angelica 
 could say ' yea' or ' nay,' she was given away to Herr 
 Wolfgang, and the service was read, and the contract 
 signed by the witnesses, and all the guests came to 
 congratulate her. 
 
 " ' As the friend of poor, dead Ernst,' said the prince, 
 1 1 thank you for not marrying Max.' 
 
 " ' The hump-backed Venus congratulates you,' said 
 the princess, with a curtesy and a sneer. 
 
 " 'I have lost all, but have still a marriage-present 
 to make to the Lady Angelica,' said Max ; and he held 
 out a gold casket, which she took. It was that one in 
 which Ernst had kept her hair, and which he had worn 
 at his death. 
 
 " Angelica flung down the casket in a rage." 
 
 " Am I to be insulted in my own castle,' she said, 
 and on my own marriage-day ? Prince — Princess — 
 Max of Waldberg — beggar of Waldberg, I despise and 
 scorn you all ! When it will please you to leave this 
 house, you are welcome. Its doors will gladly open to 
 let you out. My Lord Wolfgang, I must trust to your 
 sword to revenge any insults that may be passed on a 
 woman who is too weak to defend herself.' 
 
 "' Any who insults you insults me,' said Wolfgang, 
 at which the prince burst into a laugh. 
 
 " i Coward !' said Angelica, ' your princedom saves 
 
270 men's wives. 
 
 your manhood. In an y other country but your own 
 you would not dare to act as you do.' And so saying, 
 and looking as fierce as a boar at bay, glaring round at 
 the circle of staring courtiers, and forgetting her doubts 
 and fears in her courage and hatred, she left the room 
 on Wolfgang's arm. 
 
 " 'It is a gallant woman, by heaven !' said the 
 prince. 
 
 " The old governor of Udolf had not been present at 
 the festival, which had ended so unluckily for the feast- 
 giver, Herr Max, and in Angelica's sudden marriage. 
 Certain Anabaptist rogues, who had been making a 
 disturbance in the duchy, had been taken prisoners of 
 late, and after having been tortured and racked for some 
 six months, had been sentenced to death, as became the 
 dogs ; and, meanwhile, until their execution, were kept, 
 with more than ordinary precautions, in Castle Udolf, 
 for many of their people were still in the country, and 
 thoughts of a rescue apprehended. The day, at last, 
 was fixed for their death, — some three days after the 
 sudden wedding of the Lady Angelica. 
 
 " In those three days she had ridden again over the 
 farms and orchards ; she had examined all the treasures 
 and furnitures of her castles once more. At night she 
 feasted with her spouse, sitting at the high table which 
 poor Max had prepared for the prince and princess, and 
 causing the servants and pages to serve her upon bended 
 knees. 
 
 " i Why do these menials look so cold upon their 
 mistress and lord ?' asked she. 
 
 " t Marry,' said Wolfgang, i the poor devils have 
 served the Waldberg family since they were born, they 
 are only the more faithful for their sorrow.' 
 
lliE J s WIFE. 271 
 
 " ' 1 will have yonder old scowling seneschal scourg- 
 ed by the huntsmen to-morrow,' said Angelica. 
 
 " ' Do ! ' said Wolfgang, laughing wildly ; ' it will be 
 an amusement to you, for you will be alone all to- 
 morrow, sweet Angelica.' 
 
 " ' And why alone, sir ?' said she. 
 
 "'lam called to the city on urgent business.' 
 
 " { And what is the business which calls you away 
 alone ?' 
 
 "Her husband would not say. He said it was a 
 state secret, which did not concern women. She replied 
 she was no child, and would know it. He only laughed, 
 and laughed louder as she burst into a fury ; and when 
 she became quite white with rage, and clenched her 
 little fists, and ground her teeth, and grasped at the 
 knife she wore in her girdle, he lashed the knife out of 
 her hand with a cut of his riding rod, and bade her 
 women carry her away. ' Look to my lady,' said he, 
 ' and never leave her. Her mother was mad, and she 
 has a touch of the malady.' And so he left her, and 
 was off by break of day. 
 
 " At break of day Angelica was up too ; and no 
 sooner had her husband's horses left the court-yard of 
 the castle, than she called for her own, and rode towards 
 the city in the direction in which he had gone. Great 
 crowds of people were advancing towards the town, and 
 she remembered, for the first time, that an execution 
 was about to take place. There had not been one for 
 seven years, so peaceable was our country then ; there 
 was not even an executioner in the duke's service, for 
 the old man had died, and no other had been found to 
 take his place. ! I will see this at any rate,' said An- 
 
272 
 
 gelica ; for an execution was her delight, and she re- 
 membered every circumstance of the last with the ut- 
 most accuracy. 
 
 " As she was spurring onwards she overtook a com- 
 pany of horsemen. It was the young prince and his 
 suite, among whom was riding Lord Max, who took off 
 his cap and saluted her. 
 
 " 'Make way for the Lady Angelica !' cried one. 
 
 " ' Health to the blushing bride !' said the prince. 
 * What, so soon tired of billing and cooing at Wald- 
 berg ? ' 
 
 " [ I hope your grace found the beds soft and the 
 servants obedient,' said Max. * They had my parting 
 instructions.' 
 
 " 4 They had the instructions of their own mistress,' 
 replied Angelica ; i I pray you let me pass on to my 
 husband, the Lord Wolfgang.' 
 
 " '■ The Lord Wolfgang will be with you anon,' said 
 the prince. * We were here on the watch for you and 
 him, and to pay our devoirs to the loveliest of brides.' 
 
 " * An execution is just such a festival as becomes 
 your ladyship. Make way there ! Place for the lady 
 Angelica ! Here is the gallery from which you can see 
 the whole ceremony. The people will be here anon.' 
 And almost in spite of herself, Angelica was led up into 
 a scaffold from which the dismal preparations of the 
 death-scene were quite visible. 
 
 " Presently the trumpets blew from Udolf. The 
 men at arms and their victims came winding down the 
 hills. Old Dolchenblitz leading the procession armed, 
 on his grey charger. i Look at the victims,' said some 
 one by Angelica's side, i they are as calm as if they were 
 
THE 's WIFE. 273 
 
 going to a feast.' * See, here comes the masked execu- 
 tioner,' said another, ' who bought his life upon these 
 terms.' 
 
 " ' He is a noble,' whispered Max to Angelica, c and 
 he is the greatest swordsman in Europe? Angelica did 
 not reply, but trembled very much. 
 
 " Singing their psalms, the Anabaptists mounted the 
 scaffold. The first took his place in the chair, and the 
 executioner did his terrible work. c Here is the head of 
 a traitor,' said the executioner. 
 
 " ' You recognise your husband's voice, noble lady 
 Angelica] said Max. 
 
 " She gave a loud scream and fell down as if shot. 
 The people were too much excited by the spectacle to 
 listen to her scream. The rest of the executions went 
 on; but of these she saw nothing. She was carried 
 home to Udolf raving mad. And so it was that Max of 
 Waldberg revenged his brother's death. They say he 
 was never the same man afterwards, and repented bitter- 
 ly of his severity ; but the Princess Ulrica Amelia So- 
 phonisba Jaquelina vowed that the punishment was not 
 a whit too severe for the traitress who had dared to call 
 her the hump-backed Venus. I have shortened as far 
 as possible the horrors of the denouement of this dismal 
 drama. The executioner returned to Vienna with a 
 thousand crowns and all he had won of Angelica in 
 private. Max gave the father and Jiis unhappy daughter 
 a pension for their lives ; but he never married himself, 
 and his estates passed away into another branch of our 
 family." 
 
 \%* 
 
274 men's wives. 
 
 " What, are you connected with him, Milchbrod ?" 
 said T, " and is the story true f ' 
 
 " True. The execution took place on the very spot 
 where you are lying." 
 
 I jumped up rather nervously. And here you have 
 the story of the " Brother's Revenge ; or, the Execu- 
 tioner's wife." 
 
 THE END, 
 
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