THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 SOCIETIES 
 
 PR5611 
 
 .B8 
 
 1880 
 
UNIVERSITY OF N.C. AT CHAPEL HILL 
 
 10001025132 
 
 This book is due at the LOUIS R. WILSON LIBRARY on the 
 last date stamped under "Date Due." If not on hold it may be 
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A COURT BALL. 
 
BURLESQUES. 
 
 < Sir 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. JEAMES'S DIARY. ADVENTURES ' 
 OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. REBECCA 
 AND ROWENA. THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH 
 REVOLUTION. COX'S DIARY. YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS. 
 FITZBOODLE PAPERS. THE WOLVES AND THE 
 LAMB. THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. THE 
 FATAL BOOTS. LITTLE TRAVELS. 
 
 WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR, AND RICHARD DOYLE. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 JOHN WURTELE LOVELL, 
 
 No. 24 Bond Street. 
 1880. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS:— 
 
 f AJK. 
 
 George de Barnwell. By Sir E. L. B. L., Bart 7 
 
 Codlingsby. By D. Shrewsberry, Esq 19 
 
 Phil Fogarty. A Tale of the Fighting Onety-Oneth. 
 
 By Harry Rollicker 31 
 
 Barbazure. By G. P. R. Jeames, Esq., etc 44 
 
 Lords and Liveries. By the Authoress of " Dukes 
 and Dejeuners," " Hearts and Diamonds," " Mar- 
 chionesses and Milliners," etc., etc 54 
 
 Crinoline. By Je-mes Pl-sh, Esq 63 
 
 The Stars and Stripes. By the Author of "The Last 
 
 of the Mulligans," " Pilot," etc 73 
 
 A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL 80 
 
 THE DIARY OF C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ., 
 WITH HIS LETTERS. 
 
 A Lucky Speculator 85 
 
 The Diary 91 
 
 Jeames on Time Bargings 129 
 
 Jeames on the Gauge Question 132 
 
 Mr. Jeames Again 135 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF MAJOR 
 GAHAGAN. 
 
 I. " Truth is strange, stranger than Fiction " 139 
 
 II. Allyghur and Laswaree 153 
 
vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE. 
 
 III. A Peep into Spain. — Account of the Origin and Services 
 
 of the Ahmednuggar Irregulars 162 
 
 IV. The Indian Camp— The Sortie from the Fort 175 
 
 V. The Issue of my Interview with my Wife 183 
 
 VI. Famine in the Garrison 187 
 
 VII. The Escape.. ... 193 
 
 VIII. The Captive 196 
 
 IX. Surprise of Futtyghur 202 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 I. Sir Ludwig of Hombourg , 211 
 
 II. The Godesbergers 215 
 
 III. The Festival 219 
 
 IV. The Flight 221 
 
 V.'The Traitor's Doom 223 
 
 VI. The Confession 227 
 
 VII. The Sentence 230 
 
 VIII. The Childe of Godesberg 231 
 
 IX. The Lady of Windeck 239 
 
 X. The Battle of the Bowmen 245 
 
 XI. The Martyr of Love 250 
 
 XII. The Champion 256 
 
 XIII. The Marriage 261 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA: A ROMANCE UPON 
 ROMANCE. 
 
 I. The Overture — Commencement of the Business 269 
 
 II. The Last Days of the Lion. 280 
 
 III. St. George for England 287 
 
 IV. Ivanhoe Redivivus 294 
 
 V. Ivanhoe to the Rescue 300 
 
 VI. Ivanhoe the Widower 307 
 
 VII. The End of the Performance 315 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLU- 
 TION. 
 
 I 325 
 
 II. Henry V. and Napoleon III 329 
 
 III. The Advance of the Pretenders — Historical Review. . . 334 
 
 IV. The Battle of Rheims 33$ 
 
 V. The Battle of Tours A 34° 
 
 VI. The English under Jenkins 345 
 
 VII. The Leaguer of Paris.. 349 
 
 VIII. The Battle of the Forts . 35 2 
 
 IX. Louis XVII 353 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 The Announcement 361 
 
 First Rout 364 
 
 A Day with the Surrey Hounds 368 
 
 The Finishing Touch 372 
 
 A New Drop-Scene at the Opera 375 
 
 Striking a Balance 379 
 
 Down at Beulah 383 
 
 A Tournament 387 
 
 Over-Boarded and Under-Lodged 390 
 
 Notice to Quit 394 
 
 Law Life Assurance 398 
 
 Family Bustle 401 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 Miss Shum's Husband 407 
 
 The Amours of Mr. Deuceace 424 
 
 Foring Parts 437 
 
 Mr. Deuceace at Paris 445 
 
 I. The Two Bundles of Hay 445 
 
 II. " Honor Thy Father " 450 
 
 III. Minewvring 456 
 
 IV. " Hitting the Nale on the Hedd " 462 
 
 V. The Griffin's Claws 465 
 
 VI. The Jewel 468 
 
 VII. The Consquinsies 474 
 
 VIII. The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo 478 
 
 IX. The Marriage 491 
 
 X. The Honey-Moon. 493 
 
 Mr. Yellowplush's Ajew 500 
 
 Skimmings from " The Diary of George IV." 510 
 
 Epistles to the Literati 519 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 Fitz-Boodle's Confessions 537 
 
 Dorothea 558 
 
 Ottilia. 
 
 I. The Album — The Mediterranean Heath 571 
 
 II. Ottilia in Particular 574 
 
 Fitz-Boodle's Professions. 
 
 First Profession 586 
 
 Second Profession 596 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB 613 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 L Of the Loves of Mr. Perkins and Miss Gorgon, and of 
 
 the two Great Factions in the Town of Oldborough. . 665 
 II. Shows how the Plot began to thicken in or about Bed- 
 ford Row : 681 
 
 HL Behind the Scenes 693 
 
 A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S 708 
 
 THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 January. — The Birth of the Year 735 
 
 February. — Cutting Weather 738 
 
 March.-— Showery 742 
 
 April. — Fooling 745 
 
 May. — Restoration Day 749 
 
 June. — Marrowbones and Cleavers 753 
 
 July. — Summary Proceedings 756 
 
 August. — Dogs have their Days 760 
 
 September. — Plucking a Goose 763 
 
 October. — Mars and Venus in Opposition d 767 
 
 November. — A General Post Delivery 770 
 
 December. — " The Winter of our Discontent " 774 
 
 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 L — From Richmond in Surrey to Brussels in Belgium. 781 
 
 II. — Ghent — Bruges 800 
 
 III. — Waterloo : 810 
 
NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 
 
 By Sir E. L. B. L., Bart. 
 
 Vol. I. 
 
 In the Morning of Life the Truthful wooed the Beautiful, 
 and their offspring was Love. Like his Divine parents, He is 
 eternal. He has his Mother's ravishing smile ; his Father's 
 steadfast eyes. He rises every day, fresh and glorious as the 
 untired Sun-God. He is Eros, the ever young. Dark, dark 
 were this world of ours had either Divinity left it — dark with- 
 out the day-beams of the Latonian Charioteer, darker yet 
 without the daedal Smile of the God of the Other Bow ! Dost 
 know him, reader ? 
 
 Old is he, Eros, the ever young. He and Time were chil- 
 dren together. Chronos shall die, too ; but Love is imperish- 
 able. Brightest of the Divinities, where hast thou not been 
 sung ? Other worships pass away ; the idols for whom pyramids 
 were raised lie in the desert crumbling and almost nameless ; 
 the Olympians are fled, their fanes no longer rise among the 
 quivering olive-groves of Ilissus, or crown the emerald-islets of 
 the amethyst ^Egean ! These are gone, but thou remainest. 
 There is still a garland for thy temple, a heifer for thy stone. 
 A heifer? Ah, many a darker sacrifice. Other blood is shed 
 at thy altars, Remorseless One, and the Poet Priest who minis- 
 ters at thy Shrine draws his auguries from the bleeding hearts 
 of men! 
 
3 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 While Love hath no end, Can the Bard ever cease singing ? 
 In Kingly and Heroic ages, 'twas of Kings and Heroes that the 
 Poet spake. But in these, our times, the Artisan hath his voice 
 as well as the Monarch. The people To-Day is King, and we 
 chronicle his woes, as They of old did the sacrifice of the 
 princely Iphigenia, or the fate of the crowned Agamemnon. 
 
 Is Odysseus less august in his rags than in his purple ? 
 Fate, Passion, Mystery, the Victim, the Avenger, the Hate that 
 harms, the Furies that tear, the Love that bleeds, are not these 
 with us still ? are not these still the weapons of the Artist ? the 
 colors of his palette ? the chords of his lyre ? Listen ! I tell 
 thee a tale — not of Kings — but of Men- — not of Thrones, but 
 of Love, and Grief, and Crime. Listen, and but once more. 
 'Tis for the last time (probably) these ringers shall sweep the 
 strings. 
 
 E. L. B. L. 
 
 NOONDAY IN CHEPE. 
 
 'Twas noonday in Chepe. High Tide in the mighty River 
 City ! — its banks wellnigh overflowing with the myriad-waved 
 Stream of Man ! The toppling wains, bearing the produce of 
 a thousand marts ; the gilded equipage of the Million ary ; the 
 humbler, but yet larger vehicle from the green metropolitan 
 suburbs (the Hanging Gardens of our Babylon), in which every 
 traveller might, for a modest remuneration, take a republican 
 seat ; the mercenary caroche, with its private freight ; the brisk 
 curricle of the letter-carrier, robed in royal scarlet : these and 
 a thousand others w r ere laboring and pressing" onw r ard, and 
 ocked and bound and hustling together in the narrow channel 
 ji Chepe. The imprecations of the charioteers were terrible. 
 From the noble's broidered hammer-cloth, or the driving-seat of 
 the common coach, each driver assailed the other with floods 
 of ribald satire. The pavid matron within the one vehicle 
 (speeding to the Bank for her semestrial pittance) shrieked and 
 trembled ; the angry Dives hastening to his office (to add 
 another thousand to his heap), thrust his head over the blazoned 
 panels, and displayed an eloquence of objurgation which his 
 very Menials could not equal; the dauntless street urchins, as 
 they gayly threaded the Labyrinth of Life, enjoyed the per- 
 plexities and quarrels of the scene, and exacerbated the already 
 furious combatants by their poignant infantile satire. And the 
 Philosopher, as he regarded the hot strife and struggle of these 
 Candidates in the race for Gold, thought with a sigh of the 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 
 
 9 
 
 Truthful and the Beautiful, and walked on, melancholy and 
 serene. 
 
 'Twas noon in Chepe. The warerooms were thronged. The 
 flaunting windows of the mercers attracted many a purchaser : 
 the glittering panes behind which Birmingham had glazed its 
 simulated silver, induced rustics to pause ; although only noon, 
 the savory odors of the Cook Shops tempted the over hungry 
 citizen to the bun of Bath, or to the fragrant potage that mocks 
 the turtle's flavor — the turtle ! O dapibus s up rem i grata testudo 
 Jovis ! I am an Alderman when I think of thee ! Well : it 
 was noon in Chepe. 
 
 But were all battling for gain there ? Among the many bril- 
 liant shops whose casements shone upon Chepe, there stood one 
 a century back (about which period our tale opens) devoted to 
 the sale of Colonial produce. A rudely carved image of a 
 negro, with a fantastic plume and apron of variegated feathers, 
 .decorated the lintel. The East and West had sent their con- 
 tributions to replenish the window. 
 
 The poor slave had toiled, died perhaps, to produce yon 
 pyramid of swaithy sugar marked " Only 6^d" — That catty 
 box, on which was the epigraph u Strong Family Congo only 
 3-r. gd." was from the country of Confutzee — that heap of dark 
 produce bore the legend " TRY OUR REAL NUT "—'Twas 
 Cocoa — and that nut the Cocoa nut, whose milk has refreshed 
 the traveller and perplexed the natural philosopher. The shop 
 in question was, in a word, a Grocer's. 
 
 In the midst of the shop and its gorgeous contents sat one 
 who, to judge from his appearance (though 'twas a difficult task, 
 as, in sooth, his back was turned), had just reached that happy 
 period of life when the Boy is expanding into the Man. O 
 Youth, Youth ! Happy and Beautiful ! O fresh and roseate 
 dawn of life ; when the dew yet lies on the flowers, ere they 
 have been scorched and withered by Passion's fiery Sun ! Im- 
 mersed in thought or study, and indifferent to the din around 
 him, sat the boy. A careless guardian was he of the treasures 
 confided to him. The crowd passed in Chepe ; he never marked 
 it. The sun shone on Chepe ; he only asked that it should 
 illumine the page he read. The knave might filch his treasures ; 
 he was heedless of the knave. The customer might enter ; but 
 his book was all in all to him. 
 
 And indeed a customer was there ; a little hand was tapping 
 on the counter with a pretty impatience • a pair of arch eyes 
 were gazing at the boy, admiring, perhaps, his manly propor- 
 tions through the homely and tightened garments he wore. 
 
IO 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 " Ahem ! sir ! I say, young man ! " the customer exclaimed. 
 
 " Ton <j apameibomenos prosephe" read on the student, his 
 voice choked with emotion. " What language ! " he said ; u how 
 rich, how noble, how sonorous ! prosephe podas " 
 
 The customer burst out into a fit of laughter so shrill and 
 cheery, that the young Student could not but turn round, and 
 blushing, for the first time remarked her. " A pretty grocer's 
 boy you are," she cried, " with your applepiebomenos and.your 
 French and lingo. Am I to be kept waiting for hever ? " 
 
 " Pardon, fair Maiden," said he, with a high-bred courtesy ; 
 " 'twas not French I read, 'twas the Godlike language of the 
 blind old bard. In what can I be serviceable to ye, lady ? " 
 and to spring from his desk, to smooth his apron, to stand be- 
 fore her the obedient Shop Boy, the Poet no more, was the 
 work of a moment. 
 
 " I might have prigged this box of figs," the damsel said 
 good-naturedly, " and you'd never have turned round." 
 
 " They came from the country of Hector," the boy said: 
 " Would you have currants, lady ? These once bloomed in the 
 island gardens of the blue ^Egean. They are uncommon fine 
 ones, and the figure is low ; they're fourpence-halfpenny a pound. 
 Would ye mayhap make trial of our teas ? We do not adver- 
 tise, as some folks do ; but sell as low as any other house." 
 
 " You're precious young to have all these good things," the 
 girl exclaimed, not unwilling, seemingly, to prolong the conversa- 
 tion. " If I was you, and stood behind the counter, I should 
 be eating figs the whole day long." 
 
 " Time was," answered the lad, " and not long since I thought 
 so too. I thought I never should be tired of figs. But my old 
 uncle bade me take my fill, and now in sooth I am aweary of 
 them." 
 
 " I think you gentlemen are always so," the coquette said. 
 
 " Nay, say not so, fair stranger ! " the youth replied, his 
 face kindling as he spoke, and his eagle eyes flashing fire. 
 " Figs pall • but oh ! the Beautiful never does. Figs rot ; but 
 oh ! the Truthful is eternal. I was born, lady, to grapple with 
 the Lofty and the Ideal. My soul yearns for the Visionary. I 
 stand behind the counter, it is true ; but I ponder here upon 
 the deeds of heroes, and muse over the thoughts of sages. 
 What is grocery for one who has ambition ? What sweetness 
 hath Muscovado to him who hath tasted of Poesy ? The Ideal, 
 lady, I often think, is the true Real, and the Actual but a 
 visionary hallucination. But pardon me ; with what may I 
 serve thee ? " 
 
GEORGE BE BARNWELL. j j 
 
 " I came only for sixpenn'orth of tea-dust," the girl said, 
 with a faltering voice ; "but oh, I should like to hear you speak 
 on forever ! " 
 
 Only for sixpenn'orth of tea-dust ? Girl, thou earnest for 
 other things ! Thou lovedst his voice ? Siren ! what was the 
 witchery of thine own ? He deftly made up the packet, and 
 placed it in the little hand. She paid for her small purchase, 
 and with a farewell glance of her lustrous eyes, she left him. 
 She passe'd slowly through the portal, and in a moment more 
 was lost in the crowd. It was noon in Chepe. And George 
 de Barnwell was alone. 
 
 Vol. II. 
 
 We have selected the following episodical chapter in prefer- 
 ence to anything relating to the mere story of George Barnwell, 
 with which most readers are familiar. 
 
 Up to this passage (extracted from the beginning of Vol. 
 II.) the tale is briefly thus : 
 
 The rogue of a Millwood has come back every day to the 
 grocer's shop in Chepe, wanting some sugar, or some nutmeg, 
 or some figs, half a dozen times in the week. 
 
 She and George de Barnwell have vowed to each other an 
 eternal attachment. 
 
 This flame acts violently upon George. His bosom swells 
 with ambition. His genius breaks out prodigiously. He talks 
 about the Good, the Beautiful, the Ideal, &c, in and out of all 
 season, and is virtuous and eloquent almost beyond belief — in 
 fact like Devereux, or P. Clifford, or E. Aram, Esquires. 
 
 Inspired by Millwood and love, George robs the till, and 
 mingles in the world which he is destined to ornament. Tie 
 outdoes all the dandies, all the wits, all the scholars, and all the 
 voluptuaries of the age — an indefinite period of time between 
 Queen Anne and George II. — dines with Curll at St. John's 
 Gate, pinks Colonel Charteris in a duel behind Montague 
 House, is initiated into the intrigues of the Chevalier St. 
 George, whom he entertains at his sumptuous pavilion at Hamp- 
 stead, and likewise in disguise at the shop in Cheapside. 
 
 His uncle, the owner of the shop, a surly curmudgeon with 
 very little taste for the True and Beautiful, has retired from 
 
12 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 business to the pastoral village in Cambridgeshire from which 
 the noble Barnwells came. George's cousin Annabel is, of 
 course, consumed with a secret passion for him. 
 
 Some trifling inaccuracies may be remarked in the ensuing 
 brilliant little chapter ; but it must be remembered that the au- 
 thor wished to present an age at a glance : and the dialogue is 
 quite as fine and correct as that in the " Last of the Barons,'' 
 or in " Eugene Aram," or other works of our author, in which 
 Sentiment and History, or the True and Beautiful, are united. 
 
 Chapter XXIV. 
 button's in pall mall. 
 
 Those who frequent the dismal and enormous Mansions of 
 Silence which society has raised to Ennui in that Omphalos of 
 town, Pall Mall, and which, because they knock you down with 
 their dulness, are called Clubs no doubt ; those who yawn from 
 a bay-window in St. James's Street, at a half-score of other 
 dandies gaping from another bay-window over the way ; those 
 who consult a dreary evening paper for news, or satisfy them- 
 selves with the jokes of the miserable Punch by way of wit ; 
 the men about town of the present day, in a word, can have 
 but little idea of London some six or eightscore years back. 
 Thou pudding-sided old dandy of St. James's Street, with thy 
 lackered boots, thy dyed whiskers, and thy suffocating waist- 
 band, what art thou to thy brilliant predecessor in the same 
 quarter ? The Brougham from which thou descendest at the 
 portal of the " Carlton " or the " Traveller's," is like every- 
 body else's ; thy black coat has no more plaits, nor buttons, 
 nor fancy in it than thy neighbor's ; thy hat was made on the 
 very block on which Lord Addlepate's was cast, who has just 
 entered the Club before thee. You and he yawn together out 
 of the same omnibus-box every night ; you fancy yourselves 
 men of pleasure ; you fancy yourselves men of fashion ; you 
 fancy yourselves men of taste ; in fancy, in taste, in opinion, in 
 philosophy, the newspaper legislates for you ; it is there you 
 get your jokes and your thoughts, and your facts and your wis- 
 dom — poor Pall Mall dullards. Stupid slaves of the press, on 
 that ground which you at present occupy, there were men of 
 wit and pleasure and fashion, some five-and-twenty lustres ago. 
 
 We are at Button's — the well-known sign of the fX Turk's 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 
 
 13 
 
 Head." The crowd of periwigged heads at the windows — the 
 swearing chairmen round the steps (the blazoned and coro- 
 nalled panels of whose vehicles denote the lofty rank of their 
 owners), — the throng of embroidered beaux entering or depart- 
 ing, and rendering the air fragrant with the odors of pulvillio 
 and pomander, proclaim the celebrated resort of London's Wit 
 and Fashion. It is the corner of Regent Street. Carlton 
 House has not yet been taken down. 
 
 A stately gentleman in crimson velvet and gold is sipping 
 chocolate at one of the tables, in earnest converse with a friend 
 whose suit is likewise embroidered, but stained by time, or 
 wine mayhap, or wear. A little deformed gentleman in iron- 
 gray is reading the Morning Chronicle newspaper by the fire, 
 while a divine, with a broad brogue and a shovel hat and cas- 
 sock,, is talking freely with a gentleman, whose star and ribbon, 
 as well as the unmistakable beauty of his Phidian counte- 
 nance, proclaims him to be a member of Britain's aristocracy. 
 
 Two ragged youths, the one tall, gaunt, clumsy and scrofu- 
 lous, the other with a wild, careless, beautiful look, evidently 
 indicating Race, are gazing in at the window, not merely at the 
 crowd in the celebrated Club, but at Timothy the waiter, who 
 is removing a plate of that exquisite dish, the muffin (then 
 newly invented), at the desire of some of the revellers within. 
 
 " I would, Sam," said the wild youth to his companion, 
 " that I had some of my mother Macclesfield's gold, to enable 
 us to eat of those cates and mingle with yon springalds and 
 beaux." 
 
 " To vaunt a knowledge of the stoical philosophy," said 
 the youth addressed as Sam, " might elicit a smile of incredulity 
 upon the cheek of the parasite of pleasure ; but there are 
 moments in life when History fortifies endurance : and past 
 study renders present deprivation more bearable. If our pe- 
 cuniary resources be exiguous, let our resolution, Dick, supply 
 the deficiencies of Fortune. The muffin we desire to-day would 
 little benefit us to-morrow. Poor and hungry as we are, are we 
 less happy, Dick, than yon listless voluptuary who banquets on 
 the food which you covet ? " 
 
 And the two lads turned away up Waterloo Place, and past 
 the " Parthenon " Club-house, and disappeared to take a meal 
 of cow-heel at a neighboring cook's shop. Their names were 
 Samuel Johnson and Richard Savage. 
 
 Meanwhile the conversation at Button's was fast and bril- 
 liant. " By Wood's thirteens, and the divvle go wid 'em," 
 cried the Church dignitary in the cassock, " is it in blue and 
 
14 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 goold ye are this morning, Sir Richard, when you ought to be 
 
 in seebles ? " 
 
 " Who's dead, Dean ? " said the nobleman, the dean's com- 
 panion. 
 
 " Faix, mee Lard Bolingbroke, as sure as mee name's Jona- 
 than Swift — and I'm not so sure of that neither, for who knows 
 his father's name ? — there's been a mighty cruel murther com- 
 mitted entirely. A child of Dick Steele's has been barbarously 
 slain, dthrawn, and quarthered, and it's Joe Addison yondther 
 has done it. Ye should have killed one of your own, Joe, ye 
 thief of the world." 
 
 " I ! " said the amazed and Right Honorable Joseph Ad- 
 dison ; " I kill Dick's child ! I was godfather to the last." 
 
 " And promised a cup and never sent it," Dick ejaculated. 
 Joseph looked grave. 
 
 "The child I mean is Sir Roger de Coverley, Knight and 
 Baronet. What made ye kill him, ye savage Mohock ? The 
 whole town is in tears about the good knight ; all the ladies at 
 Church this afternoon were in mourning ; all the booksellers are 
 wild ; and Lintot says not a third of the copies of the Spectator 
 are sold since the death of the brave old gentleman." And the 
 Dean of St. Patrick's pulled out the Spectator newspaper, con- 
 taining the well-known passage regarding Sir Roger's death. 
 " I bought it but now in ' Wellington Street,' " he said ; " the 
 newsboys were howling all down the Strand." 
 
 "What a miracle is Genius — Genius, the Divine and Beauti- 
 ful," said a gentleman leaning against the same fireplace with 
 the deformed cavalier in iron-gray, and addressing that indi- 
 vidual, who was in fact Mr. Alexander Pope. " What a mar- 
 vellous gift is this, and royal privilege of Art ! To make the 
 Ideal more credible than the Actual : to enchain our hearts, 
 to command our hopes, our regrets, our tears, for a mere brain- 
 born Emanation : to invest with life the Incorporeal, and to 
 glamor the cloudy into substance, — these are the lofty privi- 
 leges of the Poet, if I have read poesy aright ; and I am as 
 familiar with the sounds that rang from Homer's lyre, as with 
 the strains which celebrate the loss of Belinda's lovely locks " 
 — (Mr. Pope blushed and bowed, highly delighted) — "these, I 
 say, sir, are the privileges of the Poet — the Poietes — the Maker 
 — he moves the world, and asks no lever ; if he cannot charm 
 death into life, as Orpheus feigned to do, he can create Beauty 
 out of Nought, and defy Death by rendering Thought Eternal. 
 Ho ! Jemmy, another flask of Nantz." 
 
 And the boy — for he who addressed the most brilliant com- 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL. 
 
 pany of wits in Europe was little more — emptied the contents 
 of the brandy-flask into a silver flagon, and quaffed it gayly to 
 the health of the company assembled. 'Twas the third he had 
 taken during the sitting. Presently, and with a graceful salute 
 to the Society, he quitted the coffee-house, and was seen can- 
 tering on a magnificent Arab past the National Gallery. 
 
 "Who is yon spark in blue and silver? He beats Joe Ad- 
 dison himself, in drinking, and pious Joe is the greatest toper 
 in the three kingdoms," Dick Steele said, good-naturedly. 
 
 " His papers in the Spectator beat thy best, Dick, thou slug- 
 gard/' the Right Honorable Mr. Addison exclaimed. " He is 
 the author of that famous No. 996, for which you have all been 
 giving me the credit." 
 
 "The rascal foiled me at capping verses," JDean Swift said, 
 " and won a tenpenny piece of me, plague take him ! " 
 
 " He has suggested an emendation in my 4 Homer,' which 
 proves him a delicate scholar," Mr. Pope exclaimed. 
 
 " He knows more of the French king than any man I have 
 met with ; and we must have an eye upon him," said Lord 
 Bolingbroke, then Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, and 
 beckoning a suspicious-looking person who was drinking at a 
 side-table, whispered to him something. 
 
 Meantime who was he ? where was he, this youth who had 
 struck all the wits of London with admiration ? His galloping 
 charger had returned to the City ; his splendid court-suit was 
 doffed for the citizen's gaberdine and grocer's humble apron. 
 
 George de Barnwell was in Chepe — in Chepe, at the feet of 
 Martha Millwood. 
 
 Vol III. 
 
 THE CONDEMNED CELL. 
 
 " Quid me mollibus implicas lacertis, my Ellinor? Nay," 
 George added, a faint smile illumining his wan but noble fea- 
 tures, " why speak to thee in the accents of the Roman poet, 
 which thou comprehendest not ? Bright One, there be other 
 things in Life, in Nature, in this Inscrutable Labyrinth, this 
 Heart on which thou leanest, which are equally unintelligible 
 to thee ! Yes, my pretty one, what is the Unintelligible but 
 the Ideal ? what is the Ideal but the Beautiful ? what the Beau- 
 tiful but the Eternal ? And the Spirit of Man that would com- 
 
1 5 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 mime wiih these is like Him who wanders by the thina polu- 
 pphloisboio tkalasses, and shrinks awe-struck before that Azure 
 Mystery." 
 
 Emily's, eyes filled with fresh-gushing dew. " Speak on, 
 speak ever thus, my George," she exclaimed. Barnwell's 
 chains rattled as the confiding girl clung to him. Even Snog- 
 gin, the Turnkey appointed to sit with the Prisoner, was af- 
 fected by his noble and appropriate language, and also burst 
 into tears. 
 
 " You weep, my Snoggin," the Boy said \ " and why ? Hath 
 Life been so charming to me that I should wish to retain it ? 
 Hath Pleasure no after- Weariness ? Ambition no Deception ; 
 Wealth no Care ; and Glory no Mockery ? Psha ! I am 
 sick of Success-, palled of Pleasure, weary of Wine ! and Wit, 
 and — nay, start not, my Adelaide — and Woman. I fling away 
 all these things as the Toys of Boyhood. Life is the Soul's 
 Nursery. I am a Man, and pine for the Illimitable ! Mark 
 you me ! Has the Morrow any terrors for me, think ye? 
 Did Socrates falter at his poison ? Did Seneca blench in his 
 bath ? Did Crutus shirk the sword when his great stake was 
 lost ? Did even weak Cleopatra shrink from the Serpent's 
 fatal nip ? And why should I ? My great Hazard hath been 
 played, and I pay my forfeit. Lie sheathed in my heart, thou 
 flashing Blade ! Welcome to my Bosom, thou faithful Serpent ; 
 I hug thee, peace-bearing Image of the Eternal ! Ha, the 
 hemlock cup! Fill high, boy, for my soul is thirsty for the 
 Infinite ! Get ready the bath, friends • prepare me for the 
 feast To-morrow — bathe my limbs in odors, and put ointment 
 in my hair." 
 
 " Has for a bath," Snoggin interposed, " they're not to be 
 'ad in this ward of the prison * but I dussay Hemmy will git 
 you a little hoil for your 'air." 
 
 The Prisoned One laughed loud and merrily. " My guar- 
 dian understands me not, pretty one — and thou ? what sayest 
 thou ? From those dear lips methinks — -plura sunt oscula quam 
 sententice — I kiss away thy tears, dove ! — they will flow apace 
 when I am gone, then they will dry, and presently these fair 
 eyes will shine on another, as they have beamed on poor George 
 Barnwell. Yet wilt thou not all forget him, sweet one. He 
 was an honest fellow, and had a kindly heart for all the world 
 said—" 
 
 " That, that he had," cried the jailer and the girl in voices 
 gurgling with emotion. And you who read ! you unconvicted 
 Convict — you murderer, though haply you have slain no one — • 
 
GEORGE DE BARNWELL, 
 
 ft 
 
 you Felon in posse if not in esse — deal gently with one who has 
 
 used the Opportunity that has failed thee — and believe that 
 
 the Truthful and the Beautiful bloom sometimes in the dock 
 
 and the convict's tawny Gaberdine ! 
 
 * * * * # 
 
 In the matter for which he suffered, George could never be 
 brought to acknowledge that he was at all in the wrong. " It 
 may be an error of judgment," he said to the Venerable Chaplain 
 of the jail, "but it is no crime. Were it Crime, I should feel 
 Remorse. Where there is no remorse, Crime cannot exist. I 
 am not sorry : therefore, I am innocent. Is the proposition a 
 fair one ? " 
 
 The excellent Doctor admitted that it was not to be con- 
 
1 8 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 " And wherefore, sir, should I have sorrow," the Boy re- 
 sumed, " for ridding the world of a sordid worm ; # of a n an 
 whose very soul was dross, and who never had a feeling for the 
 Truthful and the Beautiful ? When I stood before my uncle in 
 the moonlight, in the gardens of the ancestral halls of the De 
 Barnwells, I felt that it was the Nemesis come to overthrow him. 
 1 Dog,' I said to the trembling slave, ' tell me where thy Gold is. 
 Thou hast no use for it. I can spend it in relieving the Poverty 
 on which thou tramplest ; in aiding Science, which thou knowest 
 not ; in up-lifting Art, to which thou art blind. Give Gold, 
 and thou art free.' But he spake not, and I slew him." 
 
 " I would not have this doctrine vulgarly promulgated," 
 said the admirable chaplain, " for its general practice might 
 chance to do harm. Thou, my son, the Refined, the Gentle, 
 the Loving and Beloved, the Poet and Sage, urged by what I 
 cannot but think a grievous error, hast appeared as Avenger. 
 Think what would be the world's condition, were men without 
 any Yearning after the Ideal to attempt to reorganize Society, 
 to redistribute Property, to avenge Wrong." 
 
 " A rabble of pygmies scaling Heaven," said the noble, 
 though misguided young Prisoner. " Prometheus was a Giant, 
 and he fell." 
 
 " Yes, indeed, my brave youth ! " the benevolent Dr. Fuzwig 
 exclaimed, clasping the Prisoner's marble and manacled hand ; 
 " and the Tragedy of To-morrow will teach the World that 
 Homicide is not to be permitted even to the most amiable 
 Genius, and that the lover of the Ideal and the Beautiful, as 
 thou art, my son, must respect the Real likewise." 
 
 " Look ! here is supper ! " cried Barnwell gayly. " This is 
 the Real, Doctor \ let us respect it and fall to." He partook 
 of the meal as joyously as if it had been one of his early festals ; 
 but the worthy chaplain could scarcely eat it for tears. 
 
 * This is a gross plagiarism ; the above sentiment is expressed much more eloquently 
 :n the ingenious romance of Eugene Aram. :— " The burning desires I have known— the 
 resplendent visions I have nursed— the sublime aspirings that have lifted me so often from 
 sense and clay: these tell me that whether for good or ill I am the thing of an immortality, 
 and the creature of a God. * * * * I have destroyed a man noxious to the world 
 with the wealth by which he afflicted society, I have been the means of blessing many." 
 
 * 
 
CODLINGSBY. 
 
 By D. Shrewsberry, Esq. 
 
 I. 
 
 " The whole world is bound by one chain. In every city in 
 the globe there is one quarter that certain travellers know and 
 recognize from its likeness to its brother district in all other 
 places where are congregated the habitations of men. In 
 Tehran, or Pekin, or Stamboul, or New York, or Timbuctoo, 
 or London, there is a certain district where a certain man is 
 not a stranger. Where the idols are fed with incense by the 
 streams of Ching-wang-foo ; where the minarets soar sparkling 
 above the cypresses, their reflections quivering in the lucid 
 waters of the Golden Horn ; where the yellow Tiber flows under 
 broken bridges and over imperial glories ; where the huts are 
 squatted by the Niger, under the palm-trees ; where the North- 
 ern Babel lies, with its warehouses, and its bridges, its graceful 
 factory-chimneys, and its clumsy fanes — hidden in fog and 
 smoke by the dirtiest river in the world — in all the cities of 
 mankind there is One Home whither men of one family may 
 resort. Over the entire world spreads a vast brotherhood, 
 suffering, silent, scattered, sympathizing, waiting — an immense 
 Free-Masonry. Once this world-spread band was an Arabian 
 clan — a little nation alone and outlying amongst the mighty 
 monarchies of ancient time, the Megatheria of history. The 
 sails of their rare ships might be seen in the Egyptian waters ; 
 the camels of their caravans might thread the sands of Baalbec, 
 or wind through the date-groves of Damascus ; their flag was 
 raised, not ingloriously, in many wars, against mighty odds \ 
 but 'twas a small people, and on one dark night the Lion of 
 Judah went down before Vespasian's Eagles, and in flame, and 
 death, and struggle, Jerusalem agonized and died. * * * Yes, 
 
 (19) 
 
20 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 the Jewish city is lost to Jewish meii \ but have they not taken 
 the world in exchange ? " 
 
 Mused thus Godfrey de Bouillon, Marquis of Codlingsby, as 
 he debouched from Wych Street into the Strand. He had 
 been to take a box for Armida at Madame Vestris's theatre. 
 That little Armida was folk of Madame Vestris's theatre ; and 
 her little brougham, and her little self, and her enormous eyes, 
 and her prodigious opera-glass, and her miraculous bouquet, 
 which cost Lord Codlingsby twenty guineas every evening at 
 Nathan's in Covent Garden (the children of the gardeners of 
 Sharon have still no rival for flowers), might be seen, three 
 nights in the week at least, in the narrow, charming, comfort- 
 able little theatre. Godfrey had the box. He was strolling, 
 listlessly, eastward ; and the above thoughts passed through 
 the young noble's mind as he came in sight of Holywell Street. 
 
 The occupants of the London Ghetto sat at their porches 
 basking in the evening sunshine. Children were playing on 
 the steps. Fathers were smoking at the lintel. Smiling faces 
 looked out from the various and darkling draperies with which 
 the warehouses were hung. Ringlets glossy, and curly, and 
 jetty — eyes black as night — midsummer night — when it lightens ; 
 haughty noses bending like beaks of eagles — eager quivering 
 nostrils — lips curved like the bow of Love — every man or 
 maiden, every babe or matron in that English Jewry bore in his 
 countenance one or more of these characteristics of his peerless 
 Arab race. 
 
 " How beautiful they are ! " mused Codlingsby, as he sur- 
 veyed these placid groups calmly taking their pleasure in the 
 sunset. 
 
 " D'you vant to look at a nishe coat ? " a voice said, which 
 made him start ; and then some one behind him began handling 
 a masterpiece of Stultz's with a familiarity which would have 
 made the baron tremble. 
 
 " Rafael Mendoza ! " exclaimed Godfrey. 
 
 " The same, Lord Codlingsby," the individual so apos- 
 trophized replied. " I told you we should meet again where 
 you would little expect me. Will it please you to enter ? this 
 is Friday, and we close at sunset. It rejoices my heart to 
 welcome you home." So saying Rafael laid his hand on his 
 breast, and bowed, an oriental reverence. All traces of the 
 accent with which he first addressed Lord Codlingsby had 
 vanished : it was disguise ; half the Hebrew's life is a disguise. 
 He shields himself in craft, since the Norman boors persecuted 
 him. 
 
"THIS YOUR HOME, RAFAEL? 
 
CODLINGSB Y. 
 
 21 
 
 They passed under an awning of old clothes, tawdry fripperies, 
 greasy spangles, and_battered masks, into a shop as black and 
 hideous as the entrance was foul. " This your home, Rafael ? " 
 said Lord Codlingsby. 
 
 " Why not ? " Rafael answered. " I am tired of Schloss 
 Schinkenstein : the Rhine bores me after a while. It is too 
 hot for Florence ; besides they have not completed the picture- 
 gallery, and my place smells of putty. You wouldn't have a 
 man, mon cher, bury himself in his chateau in Normandy, out of 
 the hunting season ? The Rugantino Palace stupefies me. 
 Those Titians are so gloomy, I shall have my Hobbimas 
 and Tenierses, I think, from my house at the Hague hung over 
 them." 
 
 " How many castles, palaces, houses, warehouses, shops, 
 have you, Rafael ? *' Lord Codlingsby asked, laughing. 
 " This is one," Rafael answered. " Come in." 
 
 II. 
 
 The noise in the old town was terrific; Great Tom was 
 booming sullenly over the uproar ; the bell of Saint Mary's was 
 clanging with alarm ; St. Giles's tocsin chimed furiously ; 
 howls, -curses, flights of brickbats, stones shivering windows, 
 groans of wounded men, cries of frightened females, cheers of 
 either contending party as it charged the enemy from Carfax 
 to Trumpington Street, proclaimed that the battle was at its 
 height. 
 
 In Berlin they would have said it was a revolution, and the 
 cuirassiers would have been charging, sabre in hand, amidst 
 that infuriate mob. In France they would have brought down 
 artillery, and played on it with twenty-four pounders. In 
 Cambridge nobody heeded the disturbance — it was a Town and 
 Gown row. 
 
 The row rose at a boat-race. The Town boat (manned by 
 eight stout Bargees, with the redoubted Rullock for stroke) 
 had bumped the Brazenose light oar, usually at the head of the 
 river. High words arose regarding the dispute. After return- 
 ing from Granchester, when the boats pulled back to Christ- 
 church meadows, the disturbance between the Townsmen and 
 the University youths — their invariable opponents — grew louder 
 and more violent, until it broke out in open battle. Sparring 
 and skirmishing took place along the pleasant fields that lead 
 
22 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 from the University gate down to the broad and shining waters 
 of the Cam, and under the walls of Balliol and Sidney Sussex. 
 The Duke of Bellamont (then a dashing young sizar at Exeter) 
 had a couple of rounds with Billy Butt, the bow-oar of the 
 Bargee boat. Vavasour of Brazenose was engaged with a 
 powerful butcher, a well-known champion of the Towm party, 
 when, the great University bells ringing to dinner, truce was 
 called between the combatants, and they retired to their several 
 colleges for refection. 
 
 During the boat-race, a gentleman pulling in a canoe, and 
 smoking a narghilly, had attracted no ordinary attention. He 
 rowed about a hundred yards ahead of the boats in the race, 
 so that he could have a good view of that curious pastime. If 
 the eight-oars neared him, with a few rapid strokes of his flash- 
 ing paddles his boat shot a furlong ahead ; then he would wait, 
 surveying the race, and sending up volumes of odor from his 
 cool narghilly. 
 
 " Who is he ? " asked the crowds who panted along the 
 shore, encouraging, according to Cambridge wont, the efforts 
 of the oarsmen in the race. Town and Gown alike asked who 
 it was, who, with an ease so provoking, in a barque so singular, 
 with a form seemingly so slight, but a skill so prodigious, beat 
 their best men. No answer could be given to the query, save 
 that a gentleman in a dark travelling-chariot, preceded by six 
 fourgons and a courier, had arrived the day before at the 
 " Hoop Inn," opposite Brazenose, and that the stranger of the 
 canoe seemed to be the individual in question. 
 
 No wonder the boat, that all admired so, could compete 
 with any that ever was wrought by Cambridge artificer or 
 Putney workman. That boat — slim, shining, and shooting 
 through the water like a pike after a small fish — was a caique 
 from Tophana • it had distanced the Sultan's oarsmen and the 
 best crews of the Captain Pasha in the Bosphorus ; it was the 
 workmanship of Togrul-Beg, Caikjee Bashee of his Highness. 
 The Bashee had refused fifty thousand tomauns from Count 
 Boutenieff, the Russian Ambassador, for that little marvel. 
 When his head was taken off, the Father of Believers presented 
 the boat to Rafael Mendoza. 
 
 It was Rafael Mendoza that saved the Turkish monarchy 
 after the battle of Nezeeb. By sending three millions of 
 piastres to the Seraskier ; by bribing Colonel de St. Cornichon, 
 the French envoy in the camp of the victorious Ibrahim, the 
 march of the Egyptian army was stopped — the menaced empire 
 of the Ottomans was saved from ruin; the Marchioness of 
 
CODLINGSB Y. 
 
 23 
 
 Stokepogis, our ambassador's lady, appeared in a suit of dia- 
 monds which outblazed even the Romanoff jewels, and Rafael 
 Mendoza obtained the little caique. He never travelled with- 
 out it. It was scarcely heavier than an arm-chair. Baroni, the 
 courier, had carried it down to the Cam that morning, and 
 Rafael had seen the singular sport which we have mentioned. 
 
 The dinner over, the young men rushed from their colleges, 
 flushed, full-fed, and eager for battle. If the Gown was angry, 
 the Town, too, was on the alert. From Iffly and Barnwell, 
 from factory and mill, from wharf and warehouse, the Town 
 poured out to meet the enemy, and their battle was soon gen- 
 eral. From the Addenbrook's hospital to the Blenheim turn- 
 pike, all Cambridge was in an uproar — the college gates 
 closed — the shops barricaded — the shop-boys away in support 
 of their brother townsmen— the battle raged, and the Gown 
 had the worst of the fight. 
 
 A luncheon of many courses had been provided for Rafael 
 Mendoza at his inn ; but he smiled at the clumsy efforts of the 
 university cooks to entertain him, and a couple of dates and a 
 glass of water formed his meal. In vain the discomfited land- 
 lord pressed him to partake of the slighted banquet. "A 
 breakfast ! psha ! " said he. " My good man, I have nineteen 
 cooks, at salaries rising from four hundred a year. I can have 
 a dinner at any hour ; but a Town and Gown row " (a brickbat 
 here flying through the window crashed the caraffe of water in 
 Mendoza's hand) — " a Town and Gown row is a novelty to me. 
 The Town has the best of it, clearly, though : the men out- 
 number the lads. Ha, a good blow ! * How that tall townsman 
 went down before yonder slim young fellow in the scarlet 
 trencher cap." 
 
 ci That is the Lord Codlingsby," the landlord said. 
 
 " A light weight, but a pretty fighter," Mendoza remarked. 
 €t Well hit with your left, Lord Codlingsby ; well parried, Lord 
 Codlingsby ; claret drawn, by Jupiter ! " 
 
 " Ours is werry fine," the landlord said. "Will your High- 
 ness have Chateau Margaux or Lafitte ? " 
 
 " He never can be going to match himself against that 
 bargeman ! " Rafael exclaimed, as an enormous boatman — no 
 other than Rullock — indeed, the most famous bruiser of Cam- 
 bridge, and before whose fists the Gownsmen went down like 
 ninepins — fought his way up to the spot where,"with admirable 
 spirit and resolution, Lord Codlingsby and one or two of his 
 friends were making head against a number of the Town. 
 
 The young noble faced the huge champion with the gal- 
 
24 
 
 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 lantry of his race, but was no match for the enemy's strength 
 and weight and sinew, and went down at every round. The 
 brutal fellow had no mercy on the lad. His savage treatment 
 chafed Mendoza as he viewed the unequal combat from the 
 inn-window. " Hold your hand ! " he cried to this Goliath ; 
 " don't you see he's but a boy ? " 
 
 " Down he goes again ! " the bargeman cried, not heeding 
 the interruption. " Down he goes again : I likes wapping a 
 lord!" 
 
 " Coward ! " shouted Mendoza ; and to fling open the win- 
 dow amidst a shower of brickbats, to vault over the balcony, to 
 slide down one of the pillars to the ground, was an instant's 
 work. 
 
 At the next he stood before the enormous bargeman. 
 
 # # # # # # 
 
 After the coroner's inquest, Mendoza gave ten thousand 
 pounds to each of the bargeman's ten children, and it was thus 
 his first acquaintance was formed with Lord Codlingsby. 
 
 But we are lingering on the threshold of the house in 
 Holywell Street. Let us go in. 
 
 lit 
 
 Godfrey and Rafael passed from the street into the outer 
 shop of the old mansion in Holywell Street. It was a mas- 
 querade warehouse to all appearance. A dark-eyed damsel of 
 the nation was standing at the dark and grimy counter, strewed 
 with old feathers, old yellow boots, old stage mantles, painted 
 masks, blind and yet gazing at you with a look of sad death- 
 like intelligence from the vacancy behind their sockets. 
 
 A medical student was trying one of the doublets of orange- 
 tawney and silver, slashed with dirty light-blue. He was 
 going to a masquerade that night. He thought Polly Pattens 
 would admire him in the dress — Polly Pattens, the fairest of 
 maids-of-all-work — the Borough Venus, adored by half the youth 
 of Guy's. 
 
 " You look like a prince in it, Mr. Lint," pretty Rachel 
 said, coaxing him with her beady black eyes. 
 
 " It is the cheese," replied Mr. Lint ; " it ain't the dress that 
 don't suit, my rose of Sharon • it's the figure. Hullo, Rafael, 
 is that you, my lad of sealing-wax ? Come and intercede for 
 
CODLINGSB Y. 
 
 2 S 
 
 me with this wild gazelle ; she says I can't have it under fif- 
 teen bob for the night. And it's too much : cuss me if it's not 
 too much, unless you'll take my little bill at two months, Ra- 
 fael." 
 
 " There's a sweet pretty brigand's dress you may have for 
 half de monish," Rafael replied ; " there's a splendid clown for 
 eight bob ; but for dat Spanish dress, selp ma Moshesh, Mis- 
 traer Lint, ve'd ask a guinea of any but you. Here's a gentle- 
 mansh just come to look at it. Look 'ear, Mr. Brownsh, did 
 you ever shee a nisher ting dan dat ? " So saying, Rafael turned 
 to Lord Codlingsby with the utmost gravity, and displayed to 
 him the garment about which the young medicus was haggling. 
 
 " Cheap at the money," Codlingsby replied ; " if you won't 
 make up your mind, sir, I should like to engage it myself." 
 But the thought that another should appear before Polly Pat- 
 tens in that costume was too much for Mr. Lint ; he agreed to 
 pay the fifteen shillings for the garment. And Rafael, pocket- 
 ing the money with perfect simplicity, said, " Dis vay, Mr. 
 Brownsh ; dere's someting vill shoot you in the next shop." 
 
 Lord Codlingsby followed him, wondering. 
 
 <r You are surprised at our system," said Rafael, marking 
 the evident bewilderment of his friend. " Confess you call it 
 meanness — my huckstering with yonder young fool. I would 
 call it simplicity. Why throw away a shilling without need ? Our 
 race never did. A shilling is four men's bread : shall I disdain to 
 defile my fingers by holding them out relief in their neces- 
 sity ? It is you who are mean — you Normans — not we of the 
 ancient race. You have your vulgar measurement for great 
 things and small. You call a thousand pounds respectable, 
 and a shekel despicable. Psha, my Codlingsby ! One is as 
 the other. I trade in pennies and in millions. I am above or 
 below neither." 7 
 
 They were passing through a second shop, smelling strongly 
 of cedar, and, in fact, piled up with bales of those pencils which 
 the young Hebrews are in the habit of vending through the 
 streets. " I have sold bundles and bundles of these," said 
 Rafael. " My little brother is now out with oranges in Picca- 
 dilly. I am bringing him up to be head of our house at Am- 
 sterdam. We all do it. I had myself to see Rothschild in 
 Eaton Place this morning, about the Irish loan, of which I have 
 taken three millions : and as I wanted to walk, I carried the 
 bag. 
 
 " You should have seen the astonishment of Lauda Latymer, 
 the Archbishop of Croydon's daughter, as she* was passing St. 
 
26 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 Bennet's, Knightsbridge, and as she fancied she recognized in 
 the man who was crying old clothes the gentleman with whom 
 she had talked at the Count de St. Aulair's the night before. " 
 Something like a blush flushed over the pale features of Men- 
 doza as he mentioned the Lady Lauda's name. " Come on," 
 said he. They passed through various warehouses — the orange 
 room, the sealing-wax room, the six-bladed knife department, 
 and finally came to an old baize door. Rafael opened the 
 baize door by some secret contrivance, and they were in a black 
 passage, with a curtain at the end. 
 
 He clapped his hands ; the curtain at the end of the pas- 
 sage drew back, and a flood of golden light streamed on the 
 Hebrew and his visitor. 
 
 Chapter XXIV. 
 
 They entered a moderate-sized apartment — indeed, Holy- 
 well Street is not above a hundred yards long, and this chamber 
 was not more than half that length — it was fitted up with the 
 simple taste of its owner. 
 
 The carpet was of white velvet — (laid over several webs of 
 Aubusson, Ispahan, and Axminster, so that your foot gave no 
 more sound as it trod upon the yielding plain than the shadow 
 did which followed you) — of white velvet, painted with flowers, 
 arabesques, and classic figures by Sir William Ross, J. M. W. 
 Turner, R. A., Mrs. Mee, and Paul Delaroche. The edges 
 were wrought with seed-pearls, and fringed with Valenciennes 
 lace and bullion. The walls were hung with cloth of silver, 
 embroidered with gold figures, over which were worked pome- 
 granates, polyanthuses, and passion-flowers, in ruby, amethyst, 
 and smaragd. The drops of dew which the artificer had 
 sprinkled on the flowers were diamonds. The hangings were 
 overhung by pictures yet more costly. Giorgione the gorgeous, 
 Titian the golden, Rubens the ruddy and pulpy (the Pan of 
 Painting), some of Murillo's beatified shepherdesses, who smile 
 on you out of darkness like a star, a few score first-class Leon- 
 ardoes, and fifty of the masterpieces of the patron of Julius 
 and Leo, the Imperial genius of Urbino, covered the walls of 
 the little chamber. Divans of carved amber covered with 
 ermine went round the room, and in the midst was a fountain, 
 pattering and babbling with jets of double distilled otto of 
 roses. 
 
 " Pipes, Goliath ! " Rafael said gayly to a little negro with 
 
CODLINGSB V. 
 
 2 7 
 
 a silver collar (he spoke to him in his native tongue of Don- 
 gola) * " and welcome to our snuggery, my Codlingsby. We 
 are quieter here than in the front of the house, and I wanted 
 to show you a picture. I'm proud of my pictures. That 
 Leonardo came from Genoa, and was a gift to our father from 
 my cousin, Marshal Manasseh : that Murillo was pawned to 
 my uncle by Maiie Antoinette before the flight to Varennes — • 
 the poor lady could not redeem the pledge, you know, and the 
 picture remains with us. As for the Rafael, I suppose you are 
 aware that he was one of our people. But what are you gazing 
 at ? Oh ! my sister — I forgot. Miriam ! this is the Lord Cod- 
 lingsby." 
 
 She had been seated at an ivory pianoforte on a mother-of- 
 pearl music-stool, trying a sonata of Herz. She rose when thus 
 apostrophized. Miriam de Mendoza rose and greeted the 
 stranger. 
 
 The Talmud relates that Adam had two wives — Zillah the 
 dark. beauty; Eva the fair one. The ringlets of Zillah were 
 black ; those of Eva were golden. The eyes of Zillah were 
 night 3 those of Eva were morning. Codlingsby was fair — of 
 the fair Saxon race of Hengist and Horsa — they called him 
 Miss Codlingsby at school ; but how much fairer was Miriam 
 the Hebrew ! 
 
 Her hair had that deep glowing tinge in it which has been 
 the delight of all painters, and which, therefore, the vulgar 
 sneer at. It was of burning auburn. Meandering over her 
 fairest shoulders in twenty thousand minute ringlets, it hung to 
 her waist and below it. A light-blue velvet fillet clasped with 
 a diamond aigrette (valued at two hundred thousand tomauns, 
 and bought from Lieutenant Vicovich, who had received it 
 from Dost Mahomed), with a simple bird of paradise, formed 
 her head-gear. A sea-green cymar, with short sleeves, displayed 
 her exquisitely moulded arms to perfection, and was fastened 
 by a girdle of emeralds over a yellow satin frock. Pink gauze 
 trousers spangled with silver, and slippers of the same color as 
 the band which clasped her ringlets (but so covered with pearls 
 that the original hue of the charming little papoosh disappeared 
 entirely) completed her costume. She had three necklaces on, 
 each of which would have dowered a Princess — her fingers 
 glistened with rings to their rosy tips, and priceless bracelets, 
 bangles, and armlets wound round an arm that was whiter than 
 the ivory grand piano on which it leaned. 
 
 As Miriam de Mendoza greeted the stranger, turning upon 
 him the solemn welcome of her eyes, Codlingsby swooned 
 
28 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 almost in the brightness of her beauty. It was well she spoke ; 
 the sweet kind voice restored him to consciousness. Muttering 
 a few words of incoherent recognition, he sank upon a sandal- 
 wood settee, as Goliath, the little slave, brought aromatic coffee 
 in cups of opal, and alabaster spittoons, and pipes of the fra- 
 grant Gibelly. 
 
 " My lord's pipe is out," said Miriam with a smile, remark- 
 ing the bewilderment of her guest — who in truth forgot to 
 smoke— and taking up a thousand-pound note from a bundle 
 on the piano, she lighted it at the taper and proceeded to re- 
 illumine the extinguished chibouk of Lord Codlingsby. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When Miriam, returning to the mother-of-pearl music-stool, 
 at a signal from her brother, touched the silver and enamelled 
 keys of the ivory piano, and began to sing, Lord Codlingsby 
 felt as if he were listening at the gates of Paradise, or were 
 hearing Jenny Lind. 
 
 " Lind is the name of the Hebrew race ; so is Mendelssohn, 
 the son of Almonds ; so is Rosenthal, the Valley of the Roses: 
 so is Lowe or Lewis or Lyons or Lion. The beautiful and the 
 brave alike give cognizances to the ancient people : you Saxons 
 call yourselves Brown, or Rodgers," Rafael observed to his 
 friend ; and, drawing the instrument from his pocket, he ac- 
 companied his sister, in the most ravishing manner, on a little 
 gold and jewelled harp, of the kind peculiar to his nation. 
 
 All the airs which the Hebrew maid selected were written 
 by composers of her race ; it was either a hymn by Rossini, a 
 polacca by Braham, a delicious romance by Sloman, or a melody 
 by Weber, that, thrilling on the strings of the instrument, 
 wakened a harmony on the fibres of the heart ; but she sang 
 no other than the songs of her nation. 
 
 " Beautiful one ! sing ever, sing always," Codlingsby thought. 
 " I could sit at thy feet as under a green palm-tree, and fancy 
 that Paradise-birds were singing in the boughs." 
 
 Rafael read his thoughts. " We have Saxon blood too in 
 our veins," he said. "You smile ! but it is even so. An an- 
 cestress of ours made a mesalliance in the reign of your King 
 John. Her name was Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York, 
 and she married in Spain, whither she had fled to the Court of 
 King Boabdil, Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe, then a widower by the 
 
CODLINGSB Y. 
 
 29 
 
 demise of his first lady, Rowena. The match was deemed a 
 cruel insult amongst our people ; but Wilfred conformed, and 
 was a Rabbi of some note at the synagogue of Cordova. We 
 are descended from him lineally. It is the only blot upon the 
 escutcheon of the Mendozas." 
 
 As they sat talking together, the music finished, and Miriam 
 having retired (though her song and her beauty were still present 
 to the soul of the stranger) at a signal from Mendoza, various 
 messengers from the outer apartments came in to transact busi- 
 ness with him. 
 
 First it was Mr. Aminadab, who kissed his foot, and brought 
 papers to sign. " How is the house in Grosvenor Square, 
 Aminadab ; and is your son tired of his yacht yet ? " Men- 
 doza asked. " That is my twenty-fourth cashier," said Rafael 
 to Codlingsby, when the obsequious clerk went away. " He 
 is fond of display, and all my people may have what money 
 they like." 
 
 Entered presently the Lord Bareacres, on the affair of his 
 mortgage. The Lord Bareacres, strutting into the apartment 
 with a haughty air, shrank back, nevertheless, with surprise on 
 beholding the magnificence around him. " Little Mordecai," 
 said Rafael to a little orange-boy, who came in at the heels of 
 the noble, " take this gentleman out and let him have ten thou- 
 sand pounds. I can't do more for you, my lord, than this — 
 I'm busy. Good-by ! " And Rafael waved his hand to the 
 peer, and fell to smoking his narghilly. 
 
 A man with a square face, cat-like eyes, and a yellow 
 mustache, came next. He had an hour-glass of a waist, and 
 walked uneasily upon his high-heeled boots. " Tell your 
 master that he shall have two millions more, but not another 
 shilling," Rafael said. " That story about the five-and-twenty 
 millions of ready money at Crcnstadt is all bosh. They won't 
 believe it in Europe. You understand me Count Grogom- 
 offski ? " 
 
 " But his Imperial Majesty said four millions, and I shall 
 get the knout unless " 
 
 " Go and speak to Mr. Shadrach, in room Z 94, the fourth 
 court," said Mendoza, good-naturedly. " Leave me at peace, 
 Count ; don't you see it is Friday, and almost sunset ? " The 
 Calmuck envoy retired cringing, and left an odor of musk and 
 candle-grease behind him. 
 
 An orange-man ; an emissary from Lola Montes ; a dealer 
 in piping bulfinches ; and a Cardinal in disguise, with a pro- 
 posal for a new loan for the Pope, were heard by turns ; and 
 
3° 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 each, after a rapid colloquy in his own language, was dismissed 
 by Rafael. 
 
 " The queen must come back from Aranjuez, or that king 
 must be disposed of," Rafael exclaimed, as a yellow-faced am- 
 bassador from Spain, General the Duke of Olla Podrida, left 
 him. " Which shall it be, my Codlingsby ? " Codlingsby was 
 about laughingly to answer — for indeed he was amazed to find 
 all the affairs of the world represented here, and Holywell 
 Street the centre of Europe — when three knocks of a peculiar 
 nature were heard, and Mendoza starting up, said, " Ha ! there 
 are only four men in the world who know that signal." At 
 once, and with a reverence quite distinct from his former non- 
 chaja t manner, he advanced towards the new-comer. 
 
 He was an old man — an old man evidently, too, of the 
 Hebrew race — the light of his eyes was unfathomable — about 
 his mouth there played an inscrutable smile. He had a cotton 
 umbrella, and old trousers, and old boots, and an old wig, curl- 
 ing at the top like a rotten old pear. 
 
 He sat down, as if tired, in the first seat at hand, as Rafael 
 made him the lowest reverence. 
 
 " I am tired," says he ; " I have come in fifteen hours. I 
 am ill at Neuilly," he added with a grin. "Get me some eau 
 sucree, and tell me the news, Prince cle Mendoza. These bread 
 rows ; this unpopularity of Guizot ; this odious Spanish con- 
 spiracy against my darling Montpensier and daughter; this 
 ferocity of Palmerston against Coletti, makes me quite ill. 
 Give me your opinion, my dear duke. But ha ! whom have we 
 here ? " 
 
 The august individual who had spoken, had used the 
 Hebrew language to address Mendoza, and the Lord Cod- 
 lingsby might easily have pleaded ignorance of that tongue. 
 But he had been at Cambridge, where all the youth acquire it 
 perfectly. 
 
 " Sire" said he, " I will not disguise from you that I know 
 the ancient tongue in which you speak. There are probably 
 secrets between Mendoza and your Maj " 
 
 " Hush ! " said Rafael, leading him from the room. " Au 
 revoir, dear Codlingsby. His Majesty is one of us" he whis- 
 pered at the door ; " so is the Pope of Rome • so is * * * " — 
 a whisper concealed the rest. 
 
 " Gracious powers ! is it so ? " said Codlingsby, musing. He 
 entered into Holywell Street. The sun was sinking. 
 
 "It is time," said he, "to go and fetch Armida to the 
 Olympic." 
 
PHIL FOG ARTY. 
 
 A TALE OF THE FIGHTING ONETY-ONETH. 
 By Harry Rollicker. 
 
 I. 
 
 The gabion was ours. After two hours' righting we were in 
 possession of the first embrasure, and made ourselves as com- 
 fortable as circumstances would admit. Jack Delamere, Tom 
 Delancy, Jerry Blake, the Doctor, and myself, sat down under 
 a pontoon, and our servants laid out a hasty supper on a tum- 
 brel. Though Cambaceres had escaped me so provokingly 
 after I cut him down, his spoils were mine ; a cold fowl and a 
 Bologna sausage were found in the Marshal's holsters ; and in 
 the haversack of a French private who lay a corpse on the 
 glacis, we found a loaf of bread, his three days' ration. Instead 
 of salt, we had gunpowder ; and you may be sure, wherever the 
 Doctor was, a flask of good brandy was behind him in his in- 
 strument-case. We sat down and made a soldier's supper. 
 The Doctor pulled a few of the delicious fruit from the lemon- 
 trees growing near (and round which the Carabiniers and the 
 24th Leger had made a desperate rally), and punch was brewed 
 in Jack Delamere's helmet. 
 
 'Faith, it never had so much wit in it before," said the 
 Doctor, as he ladled out the drink. We all roared with laugh- 
 ing, except the guardsman, who was as savage as a Turk at a 
 christening. 
 
 " Buvez-en," said old Sawbones to our French prisoner; 
 " ca vous fera du bien, mon vieux coq ! " and the Colonel 5 
 whose wound had been just dressed, eagerly grasped at the 
 proffered cup, and drained it with a health to the donors. 
 
 3 < 3I > 
 
32 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 How strange are the chances of war ! But half an hour be- 
 fore he and I were engaged in mortal combat, and our prisoner 
 was all but my conqueror. Grappling with Cambaceres, whom 
 I knocked from his horse, and was about to despatch, I felt a 
 lunge behind, which luckily was parried by my sabretache ; 
 a herculean grasp was at the next instant at my throat — I was 
 on the ground — my prisoner had escaped, and a gigantic 
 .warrior in the uniform of a colonel of the regiment of Artois 
 glaring over me with pointed sword. 
 
 " Rends-toi, coquin ! " said he. 
 
 " Allez au Diable ! " said I : " a Fogarty never surrenders." 
 
 I thought of my poor mother and my sisters, at the old 
 house in Killaloo — I felt the tip of his blade between my teeth 
 — I breathed a prayer, and shut my eyes — when the tables were 
 turned — the butt-end of Lanty Clancy's musket knocked the 
 sword up and broke the arm that held it. 
 
 " Thonamoundiaoul nabochlish," said the French officer, 
 with a curse in the purest Irish. It was lucky I stopped 
 laughing time enough to bid Lanty hold his hand, for the hon- 
 est fellow would else have brained my gallant adversary. We 
 were the better friends for our combat, as what gallant hearts 
 are not ? 
 
 The breach was to be stormed at sunset, and like true sol- 
 diers we sat down to make the most of our time. The rogue 
 of a Doctor took the liver-wing for his share — we gave the 
 other to our guest, a prisoner ; those scoundrels Jack Dela- 
 mere and Tom Delancy took the legs — and, 'faith, poor I was 
 put off with the Pope's nose and a bit of the back. 
 
 " How d'ye like his Holiness's fayture?" said Jerry Blake. 
 
 " Anyhow you'll have a merry thought" cried the incorrigi- 
 ble Doctor, and all the party shrieked at the witticism. 
 
 " De mortuis nil nisi bonum," said Jack, holding up the 
 drumstick clean. 
 
 " 'Faith, there's not enough of it to make us chicken-hearted, 
 anyhow," said I ; " come, boys, let's have a song." 
 
 " Here goes," said Tom Delancy, and sung the following 
 lyric, of his own composition : — 
 
 " Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill, 
 And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill, 
 Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot 
 As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot — 
 In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass, 
 And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass. 
 
 " One morning in summer, while seated so snug, 
 in the porch of his garden, discussing his jug, 
 
PHIL FOGARTY. 
 
 33 
 
 Stern Death, on a sudden, to Tom did appear, 
 
 And said, ' Honest Thomas, come take your last bier ; * 
 
 We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can, 
 
 From which let us drink to the health of my Nan." 
 
 , "Psha!" said the Doctor, "I've heard that song before ; 
 here's a new one for you, boys ! " and Sawbones began, in a 
 rich Corkagian voice — 
 
 " You've all heard of Larry O'Tooie, 
 Of the beautiful town of Drumgoole ; 
 
 He had but one eye, 
 
 To ogle ye by — 
 Oh, murther, but that was a jew'l ! 
 
 A fool 
 
 He made of de girls, dis O'Tooie. 
 
 " 'Twas he was the boy didn't fail. 
 That tuck down pataties and mail ; 
 He never would shrink 
 From any sthrong dthrink, 
 Was it whiskey or Drogheda ale ! 
 I'm bail 
 
 This Larry would swallow a pail. 
 
 " Oh, many a night at the bowl, 
 With Larry I've sot cheek by jowl ; 
 
 He's gone to his rest, 
 
 Where there's dthrink of the best, 
 And so let us give his old soul 
 
 A howl, 
 
 For 'twas he made the noggin to rowl." 
 
 I observed the French Colonel's eye glistened as he heard 
 these well-known accents of his country ; but we were too well- 
 bred to pretend to remark his emotion. 
 
 The sun was setting behind the mountains as our songs 
 were finished, and each began to look out with some anxiety 
 for the preconcerted signal, the rocket from Sir Hussey Vivian's 
 quarters, which was to announce the recommencement of hos- 
 tilities. It came just as the moon rose in her silver splendor, 
 and ere the rocket-stick fell quivering to the earth at the feet 
 of General Picton and Sir Lowry Cole, who were at their posts 
 at the head of the storming-parties, nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine guns in position opened their fire from our batteries, 
 which were answered by a tremendous cannonade from the 
 fort. 
 
 " Who's going to dance ? " said the Doctor : " the ball's 
 begun. Ha ! there's goes poor Jack Delamere's head off ! 
 The ball chose a soft one, anyhow. Come here, Tim, till I 
 mend your leg. Your wife has need only knit half as many 
 stockings next year, Doolan my boy. Faix ! there goes a big 
 one had wellnigh stopped my talking : bedad ! it has snuffed 
 the feather off my cocked hat ! " 
 
 In this way, with eighty-four-pounders roaring over us like 
 
34 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS 
 
 hail, the undaunted little Doctor pursued his jokes and his 
 duty. That he had a feeling heart, ail who served with him 
 knew, and none more so than Philip Fogarty, the humble writer 
 of this tale of war. 
 
 Our embrasure was luckily bomb-proof, and the detachment 
 of the Onety-oneth under my orders suffered comparatively 
 little. "Be cool, boys," I said; "it will be hot enough work 
 for you ere long." The honest fellows answered with an Irish 
 cheer. I saw that it affected our prisoner. 
 
 " Countryman," said I, " I know you ; but an Irishman 
 was never a traitor." 
 
 " Taisez-vous ! " said he, putting his finger to his lip, 
 " C'est la fortune de la guerre : if ever you come to Paris, ask 
 for the Marquis d' O'Mahony, and I may render you the hospi- 
 tality which your tyrannous laws prevent me from exercising 
 in the ancestral halls of my own race." 
 
PHIL FOG ARTY. 
 
 35 
 
 I shook him warmly by the hand as a tear bedimmed his 
 eye. It was, then, the celebrated Colonel of the Irish Brigade, 
 created a Marquis by Napoleon on the field of Austerlitz ! 
 
 " Marquis," said I, " the country which disowns you is 
 proud of you; but — ha! here, if I mistake not, comes our 
 signal to advance. " And in fact Captain Vandeleur, riding 
 up through the shower of shot, asked for the commander of 
 the detachment, and bade me hold myself in readiness to move 
 as soon as the flank companies of the Ninety-ninth, and Sixty- 
 sixth and the Grenadier Brigade of the German Legion began 
 to advance up the echelon. The devoted band soon arrived ; 
 Jack Bowser heading the Ninety-ninth (when was he away and 
 a storm ing-party to the fore ?), and the gallant Potztausencl, 
 with his Hanoverian veterans. 
 
 The second rocket flew up. 
 
 " Forward, Onety-oneth ! " cried I, in a voice of thunder. 
 " Killaloo boys, follow your captain ! " and with a shrill hurray, 
 that sounded above the tremendous fire from the fort, we 
 sprung up the steep ; Bowser with the brave Ninety-ninth, and 
 the bold Potztausend, keeping well up with us. We passed the 
 demi-lur?^ re passed the culverin, bayoneting the artillerymen 
 at their guns \ we advanced across the two tremendous demi- 
 lunes which flank the counterscarp, and prepared for the final 
 spring upon the citadel. Soult I could see quite pale on the 
 wall ; and the scoundrel Cambaceres, who had been so nearly 
 my prisoner that day, trembled as he cheered his men. " On 
 boys, on ! " I hoarsely exclaimed. " Hurroo ! " said the fight- 
 ing Onety-oneth. 
 
 But there was a movement among the enemy. An officer, 
 glittering with orders, and another in a gray coat and a cocked 
 hat, came to the waH, and I recognized the Emperor Napoleon 
 and the famous Joachim Murat. 
 
 "We are hardly pressed, methinks, ,, Napoleon said sternly. 
 " I must exercise my old trade as an artilleryman ; " and Murat 
 loaded, and the Emperor pointed the only hundred-and-twenty- 
 four-pounder that had not been silenced by our fire. 
 
 " Hurray, Killaloo boys ! " shouted I. The next moment a 
 sensation of numbness and death seized me, and I lay like a 
 corpse upon the rampart. 
 
 * 
 
 4 
 
36 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS, 
 
 II. 
 
 " Hush ! " said a voice, which I recognized to be that of 
 the Marquis d' O'Mahony. " Heaven be praised, reason has 
 returned to you. For six weeks those are the only sane words 
 I have heard from you." 
 
 " Faix, and 'tis thrue for you, Colonel dear," cried another 
 voice, with which I was even more familiar ; 'twas that of my 
 honest and gallant Lanty Clancy, who was blubbering at my 
 bedside overjoyed at his master's recovery. 
 
 " O mush a, Masther Phil agrah ! but this will be the great 
 day intirely, when I send off the news, which I would, barrm' 
 I can't write, to the lady your mother and your sisters at Castle 
 Fogarty ; and 'tis his Riv'rence Father Luke will jump for joy 
 thin, when he reads the letther ! Six weeks ravin' and roarin' 
 as bould as a lion, and as mad as Mick Malony's pig, that mis- 
 tuck Mick's wig for a cabbage, and died of atin' it ! " 
 
 " And have I then lost my senses ? " I exclaimed feebly. 
 
 " Sure, didn't ye call me your beautiful Donna Anna only 
 yesterday, and catch hould of me whiskers as if they were the 
 Signora's jet-black ringlets ? " Lanty cried. 
 
 At this moment, and blushing deeply, the most beautiful 
 young creature I ever set my eyes upon, rose from a chair at 
 the foot of the bed, and sailed out of the room. 
 
 " Confusion, you blundering rogue," I cried ; "who is that 
 lovely lady whom you frightened away by your impertinence ? 
 Donna Anna? Where am I ?' 
 
 " You are in good hands, Philip," said the Colonel ; " you 
 are at my house in the Place Vendome, at Paris, of which I am 
 the military Governor. You and Lanty were knocked down by 
 the wind of the cannon-ball at Burgos. Do not be ashamed : 
 'twas the Emperor pointed the gun ; " and the Colonel took off 
 his hat as he mentioned the name darling to France. "When 
 our troops returned from the sally in which your gallant storm- 
 ing-party was driven back, you were found on the glacis, and I 
 had you brought into the City. Your reason had left you, how- 
 ever, when you returned to life ; but, unwilling to desert the 
 son of my old friend, Philip Fogarty, who saved my life in '98, 
 I brought you in my carriage to Paris." 
 
 "And many's the time you tried to jump out of the windy, 
 Masther Phil," said Clancy. h 
 
 "Brought you to Paris," resumed the Colonel, smiling^; 
 " where, by the soins of my friends Broussais, Esquirol, and 
 
PHIL FOG ARTY. 
 
 37 
 
 Baron Larrey, you have been restored to health, thank 
 heaven ! " 
 
 " And that lovely angel who quitted the apartment ? " I 
 cried. 
 
 " That lovely angel is the Lady Blanche Sarsfield, my ward, 
 a descendant of the gallant Lucan, and who may be, when she 
 chooses, Madame la Marechale de Cambaceres, Duchess of 
 Illyria." 
 
 "Why did you deliver the ruffian when he was in my 
 grasp ? " I cried. 
 
 " Why did Lanty deliver you when in mine ? " the Colonel 
 replied. " C'est la fortune de la guerre, mon garcon ; but 
 calm yourself, and take this potion which Blanche has pre- 
 pared for you." 
 
 I drank the tisane eagerly when I heard whose fair hands 
 had compounded it, and its effects were speedily beneficial to 
 me, for I sank into a cool and refreshing slumber. 
 
 From that day I began to mend rapidly, with all the elasti- 
 city of youth's happy time. Blanche — the enchanting Blanche 
 — ministered henceforth to me, for I would take no medicine 
 but from her lily hand. And what were the effects ? 'Faith, 
 ere a month was past, the patient was over head and ears in 
 love with the doctor ; and as for Baron Larrey, and Broussais, 
 and Esquirol, they were sent to the right-about. In a short 
 time I was in a situation to do justice to the gigot aux navets, 
 the bcenf aux eornichons, and other delicious entremets of the 
 Marquis's board, with an appetite that astonished some of the 
 Frenchmen who frequented it. 
 
 " Wait till he's quite well, Miss," said Lanty, who waited 
 always behind me. " Faith ! when he's in health, I'd back 
 him to ate a cow, barrin' the horns and teel." I sent a decan- 
 ter at the rogue's head, by way of answer to his impertinence. 
 
 Although the disgusting Cambaceres did his best to have 
 my parole withdrawn from me, and to cause me to be sent to - » 
 the English depot of prisoners at Verdun, the Marquis's interest 
 with the Emperor prevailed, and I was allowed to remain at 
 Paris, the happiest of prisoners, at the Colonel's hotel at the 
 Place Vendome. I here had the opportunity (an opportunity 
 not lost, I flatter myself, on a young fellow with the accom- 
 plishments of Philip Fogarty, Esq.) of mixing with the elite 
 of French society, and meeting with many of the great, the 
 beautiful, and the brave. Talleyrand was a frequent guest of 
 the Marquis's. His bon-mots used to keep the table in a roar. 
 Ney frequently took his chop with us ; Murat, when in town, 
 
3S 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS, 
 
 constantly dropt in for a cup of tea and friendly round game. 
 Alas ! who would have thought those two gallant heads would 
 be so soon laid low ? My wife has a pair of earrings which 
 the latter, who always wore them, presented to her — but we 
 are advancing matters. Anybody could see, " avec un demi- 
 ceil" as the Prince of Benevento remarked, how affairs went 
 between me and Blanche ; but though she loathed him for his 
 cruelties and the odiousness of his person, the brutal Camba- 
 ceres still pursued his designs upon her. 
 
 I recollect it was on St. Patrick's Day. My lovely friend 
 had procured, from the gardens of the Empress Josephine, at 
 Malmaison (whom we loved a thousand times more than her 
 Austrian successor, a sandy-haired woman, between ourselves, 
 with an odious squint), a quantity of shamrock wherewith to 
 garnish the. hotel, and all the Irish in Paris were invited to the 
 national festival. 
 
 I and Prince Talleyrand danced a double hornpipe with 
 Pauline Bonaparte and Madame de Stael ; Marshal Soult went 
 down a couple of sets with Madame Recamier ; and Robes- 
 pierre's widow — an excellent, gentle creature, quite unlike her 
 husband — stood up with the Austrian ambassador. Besides, 
 the famous artists Baron Gros, David and Nicholas Poussin, 
 and Canova, who was in town making a statue of the Emperor 
 for Leo X., and, in a word, all the celebrities of Paris — as my 
 gifted countrywoman, the wild Irish girl, calls them — were 
 assembled in the Marquis's elegant receiving-rooms. 
 
 At last a great outcry was raised for La Gigue Irlandaise J 
 La Gigue Lrlandaise ! a dance which had made a fureur amongst 
 the Parisians ever since the lovely Blanche Sarsfieldhad danced 
 it. She stepped forward and took me for a partner, and amidst 
 the bravos of the crowd, in which stood Ney, Murat, Lannes, 
 the Prince of Wagram, and the Austrian ambassador, we showed 
 to the beau monde of the French capital, I flatter myself, a not 
 unfavorable specimen of the dance of our country. 
 
 As I was cutting the double-shuffle, and toe-and-heeling it 
 in the " rail " style, Blanche danced up to me, smiling, and said, 
 u Be on your guard ; I see Cambaceres talking to Fouche, the 
 Duke of Otranto, about us ; and when Otranto turns his eyes 
 upon a man, they bode him no good." 
 
 " Cambaceres is jealous," said I. " I have it," says she ; 
 " I'll make him dance a turn with me." So, presently, as the 
 lrmdc was going like mad all this time, I pretended fatigue from 
 my late wQunds, and sat down. The lovely Blanche went up 
 smiling, and brought out Cambaceres as a second partner. 
 
 9 
 
PHIL FOG ARTY. 39 
 
 The Marshal is a lusty man, who makes desperate efforts to 
 give himself a waist, and the effect of the exercise upon him 
 was speedily visible. He puffed and snorted like a walrus, 
 drops trickled down his purple face, while my lovely mischief 
 of a Blanche went on dancing at treble quick, till she fairly 
 danced him down. 
 
 " Who'll take the flure with me ? " said the charming girl, 
 animated by the sport. 
 
 " Faix, den, 'tis I, Lanty Clanqy ! " cried my rascal, who 
 had been mad with excitement at the scene; and, stepping in 
 with a whoop and hurroo, he began to dance with such rapidity 
 as made all present stare. 
 
 As the couple were footing it, there was a noise as of a 
 rapid cavalcade traversing the Place Vendome, and stopping at 
 the Marquis's door. A crowd appeared to mount the stair ; 
 the great doors of the reception-room were flung open, and two 
 pages announced their Majesties the Emperor and the Empress. 
 So engaged were Lanty and Blanche, that they never heard the 
 tumult occasioned by the august approach. 
 
 It was indeed the Emperor, who, returning from the Theatre 
 Francais, and seeing the Marquis's windows lighted up, pro- 
 posed to the Empress to drop in on the party. He made signs 
 to the musicians to continue : and the conqueror of Marengo 
 and Friedland watched with interest the simple evolutions of 
 two happy Irish people. Even the Empress smiled ; and, see- 
 ing this, all the courtiers, including Naples and Talleyrand, 
 were delighted. 
 
 " Is not this a great day for Ireland ? " said the' Marquis, 
 with a tear trickling down his noble face. " O Ireland ! O 
 my country ! But no more of that. Go up, Phil, you divvle, 
 and offer her Majesty the choice of punch or negus." 
 
 Among the young fellows with whom I was most intimate in 
 Paris was Eugene Beauharnais, the son of the ill-used and un- 
 happy Josephine by her former marriage with a French gentle- 
 man of good family. Having a smack of the old blood in him, 
 Eugene's manners were much more refined than those of the 
 new-fangled dignitaries of the Emperor's Court, where (for my 
 knife and fork were regularly laid at the Tuileries) I have seen 
 my poor friend Murat repeatedly mistake a fork for a tooth-pick, 
 and the gallant Massena devour pease by means of his knife, 
 in a way more innocent than graceful. Talleyrand, Eugene, 
 and I used often to laugh at these eccentricities of our brave 
 friends ; who certainly did not shine in the drawing-room, how- 
 ever brilliant they were in the field of battle. The Emperor 
 
40 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 always asked me to take wine with him, and was full of kind- 
 ness and attention. 
 
 " I like Eugene," he would say, pinching my ear confiden- 
 tially, as his way was — " I like Eugene to keep company with 
 such young fellows as you ; you have manners ; you have prin- 
 ciples ; my rogues from the camp have none. And I like you, 
 Philip my boy," he added, for being so attentive to my poor 
 wife — the Empress Josephine, I mean." All these honors made 
 my friends at the Marquis's very proud, and my enemies at 
 Court crever with envy. Among these, the atrocious Camba- 
 ceres was not the least active and envenomed. 
 
 The cause of the many attentions which were paid to me, 
 and which, like a vain coxcomb, I had chosen to attribute to 
 my own personal amiability, soon was apparent. Having formed 
 a good opinion of my gallantry from my conduct in various 
 actions and forlorn hopes during the war, the Emperor was 
 most anxious to attach me to his service. The Grand Cross 
 of St. Louis, the title of Count, the command of a crack cavalry 
 regiment, the i4ine Chevaux Marins, were the bribes that were 
 actually offered to me ; and must I say it ? Blanche, the lovely, 
 the perfidious Blanche, was one of the agents employed to 
 tempt me to commit this act of treason. 
 
 " Object to enter a foreign service ! " she said, in reply to 
 my refusal. " It is you, Philip, who are in a foreign service. 
 The Irish nation is in exile, and in the territories of its French 
 allies. Irish traitors are not here ; they march alone under the 
 accursed flag of the Saxon, whom the great Napoleon would 
 have swept from the face of the earth, but for the fatal valor 
 of Irish mercenaries ! Accept this offer, and my heart, my 
 hand, my all are yours. Refuse it, Philip, and we part." 
 
 " To wed the ab'ominable Cambaceres ! " I cried, stung with 
 rage. "To wear a duchess's coronet, Blanche! Ha, ha! 
 Mushrooms, instead of strawberry-leaves, should decorate the 
 brows of the upstart French nobility. I shall withdraw my 
 parole. I demand to be sent to prison — to be exchanged — to 
 die — anything rather than be a traitor, and the tool of a trai- 
 tress ! " Taking up my hat, I left the room in a fury ; and 
 flin ging open the door tumbled over Cambaceres, who was 
 listening at the keyhole, and must have overheard every word 
 of our conversation. 
 
 We tumbled over each other, as Blanche was shrieking with 
 laughter at our mutual discomfiture. Her scorn only made me 
 more mad ; and, having spurs on, I began digging them into 
 Cambaceres' fat sides as we rolled on the carpet, until the Mar- 
 shal howled with rage and anger. 
 
PHIL FOG ARTY. 
 
 41 
 
 " This insult must be avenged with blood ! " roared the 
 Duke of Illyria. 
 
 " I have already drawn it," says I, " with my spurs." 
 
 " Malheur et malediction ! " roared the Marshal. 
 
 " Hadn't you better settle your wig ? " says I, offering it to 
 him on the .tip of my cane, "and we'll arrange time and place 
 when you have put your jasey in order." I shall never forget 
 the look of revenge which he cast at me, as I was thus turning 
 him into ridicule before his mistress. 
 
 " Lady Blanche," I continued bitterly, " as you look to share 
 the Duke's coronet, hadn't you better see to. his wig? " and so 
 saying, I cocked my hat, and walked out of the Marquis's place, 
 whistling " Garryowen." 
 
 I knew my man would not be long in following me, and 
 waited for him in the Place Vendome, where I luckily met Eu- 
 gene too, who was looking at the picture-shop in the corner. I 
 explained to him my affair in a twinkling. He at once agreed 
 to go with me to the ground, and commended me, rather than 
 otherwise, for refusing the offer which had been made to me. 
 "I knew it would be so," he said, kindly ; " I told my father 
 you wouldn't. A man with the blood of the Fogarties, Phil 
 my boy, doesn't wheel about like those fellows of yesterday." 
 So, when Cambaceres came out, which he did presently, with 
 a more furious air than before, I handed him at once over to 
 Eugene, who begged him to name a friend, and an early hour 
 for the meeting to take place. 
 
 " Can you make it before eleven, Phil ? " said Beauharnais. 
 " The Emperor reviews the troops in the Bois de Boulogne at 
 that hour, and we might fight there handy before the review." 
 
 " Done ! " said I. " I want of all things to see the newly- 
 arrived Saxon cavalry manoeuvre : " on which Cambaceres giv- 
 ing me a look, as much as to say, " See sights ! Watch cavalry 
 manoeuvres ! Make your soul, and take measure for a coffin, 
 my boy ! " walked away, naming our mutual acquaintance, 
 Marshal Ney, to Eugene, as his second in the business. 
 
 I had purchased from Murat a very fine Irish horse, Buga- 
 boo, out of Smithereens, by Fadladeen, which ran into the 
 French ranks at Salamanca, with poor Jack Clonakilty, of the 
 13th, dead, on the top of him. Bugaboo was too much and 
 too ugly an animal for the King of Naples, who, though a showy 
 horseman, was a bad rider across country ; and I got the horse 
 for a song. A wickeder and uglier brute never wore a pig-skin \ 
 and I never put my leg over such a timber-jumper in my life. 
 I rode the horse down to the Bois de Boulogne on the morning 
 
42 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 that the affair with Cambaceres was to come off, and Lanty 
 held him as I went in, " sure to win," as they say in the ring. 
 
 Cambaceres was known to be the best shot in the French 
 army ; but I, who am a pretty good hand at a snipe, thought a 
 man was bigger, and that I could wing him if I had a mind. 
 As soon as Ney gave the word, we both fired : I felt a whizz 
 pass my left ear, and putting up my hand there, found a large 
 piece of my whiskers gone ; whereas at the same moment, and 
 shrieking a horrible malediction, my adversary reeled and fell. 
 
 " Mon Dieu, il est mort ! " cried Ney. 
 
 " Pas de tout," said Beauharnais. " Ecoute ; il jure tou- 
 jour s." 
 
 And such, indeed, was the fact : the supposed dead man 
 lay on the ground cursing most frightfully. We went up to 
 him : he was blind with the loss of blood, and my ball had car- 
 ried off the bridge of his nose. He recovered ; but he was 
 always called the Prince of Ponterotto in the French army after- 
 wards. The surgeon in attendance having taken charge of this 
 unfortunate warrior, we rode off to the review, where Ney and 
 Eugene were on duty at the head of their respective divisions ; 
 and where, by the way, Cambaceres, as the French say, " se 
 faisait desirer." 
 
 It was arranged that Cambaceres' division of six battalions 
 and nine- and-twenty squadrons should execute a ricochet move- 
 ment, supported by artillery in the intervals, and converging by 
 different tpanlements on the light infantry, that formed as usual, 
 the centie of the line. It was by this famous manoeuvre that 
 at Areola, at Montenotte, at Friedland, and subsequently at 
 Mazagran, Suwaroff, Prince Charles, and General Castarios 
 were defeated with such victorious slaughter : but it is a move- 
 ment which, I need not tell every military man, requires the 
 greatest delicacy of execution, and which, if it fails, plunges an 
 army in confusion. 
 
 " Where is the Duke of Illyria ? " Napoleon asked. " At 
 the head of his division, no doubt," said Murat : at which 
 Eugene, giving me an arch look, put his hanjd to his nose, and 
 caused me almost to fall off my horse with laughter. Napoleon 
 looked sternly at me ; but at this moment the troops getting 
 in motion, the celebrated manoeuvre began, and his Majesty's 
 attention was taken off from my impudence. 
 
 Milhaud's Dragoons, their bands playing " Vive Henri 
 Quatre," their cuirasses gleaming in the sunshine, moved upon 
 their own centre from the left flank in the most brilliant order, 
 while the Carbineers of Foy, and the Grenadiers of the Guard 
 under Drouet d'Erlon, executed a carambolade on the right, 
 
PHIL FOG ARTY. 
 
 43 
 
 with the precision which became those veteran troops ; but the 
 Chasseurs of the young guard, marching by twos instead of 
 threes, bore consequently upon the Bavarian Uhlans (an ill-dis- 
 ciplined and ill-affected body), and then, falling back in disorder, 
 became entangled with the artillery and the left centre of the 
 line, and in one instant thirty thousand men were in inextric- 
 able confusion. 
 
 " Clubbed, by Jabers ! " roared out Lanty Clancy. " I wish 
 we could show 'em the Fighting Onety-oneth, Captain darling." 
 
 " Silence, fellow ! " I exclaimed. I never saw the face of 
 man express passion so vividly as now did the livid countenance 
 of Napoleon. He tore off General Milhaud's epaulettes, which 
 he flung into Foy's face. He glared about him wildly, like a 
 demon, and shouted hoarsely for the Duke of Illyria. " He is 
 wounded, sire," said General Foy, wiping a tear from his eye, 
 which was blackened by the force of the blow ; " he was 
 wounded an hour since in a duel, Sire, by a young English 
 prisoner, Monsieur de Fogarty." 
 
 *' Wounded ! a Marshal of France wounded ! Where is the 
 Englishman ? Bring him out, and let a file of grenadiers ' 
 
 " Sire ! " interposed Eugene. 
 
 • ■ Let him be shot*! " shrieked the Emperor, shaking his 
 spy-glass at me with the fury of a fiend. 
 
 This was too much. " Here goes ! " said I, and rode slap 
 at him. 
 
 There was a shriek of terror from the whole of the French 
 army, and I should think at least forty thousand guns* were 
 levelled at me in an instant. But as the muskets were not 
 loaded, and the cannon had only wadding in them, these facts, 
 I presume, saved the life of Phil Fogarty from this discharge. 
 
 Knowing my horse, I put him at the Emperor's head, and 
 Bugaboo went at it like a shot. He was riding his famous 
 white Arab, and turned quite pale as I came up and went over 
 the horse and the Emperor, scarcely brushing the cockade 
 which he wore. 
 
 " Bravo ! " said Murat, bursting into enthusiasm at the 
 leap. 
 
 " Cut him down ! " said Sieves, once an Abbe, but now a 
 gigantic Cuirassier : and he made a pass at me with his sword. 
 But he little knew an Irishman on an Irish horse. Bugaboo 
 cleared Sieves, and fetched the monster a slap with his near 
 hind hoof which sent him reeling from his saddle, — and away I 
 went with an army of a hundred and seventy-three thousand 
 eight hundred men at my heels. * # * # 
 
BARBAZURE. 
 
 By G. P. R. Jeames, Esq. etc. 
 
 I. 
 
 It was upon one of those balmy evenings of November 
 which are only known in the valleys of Languedoc and among 
 the mountains of Alsace, that two cavaliers might have been 
 perceived by the naked eye threading one of the rocky and 
 romantic gorges that skirt the mountain-land between the 
 Marne and the Garonne. The rosy tints of the declining lu- 
 minary were gilding the peaks and crags which lined the path, 
 through which the horsemen wound slowly ; and as these eter- 
 nal battlements with which Nature had hemmed in the ravine 
 which our travellers trod, blushed with the last tints of the 
 fading* sunlight, the valley below was gray and darkling, and 
 the hard, and devious course was sombre in twilight. A few 
 goats, hardly visible among the peaks, were cropping the 
 scanty herbage here and there. The pipes of shepherds, call- 
 ing in their flocks as they trooped homewards to their mountain 
 villages, sent up plaintive echoes which moaned through those 
 rocky and lonely steeps ; the stars began to glimmer in the 
 purple heavens spread serenely overhead ; and the faint cres- 
 cent of the moon, which had peered for some time scarce visi- 
 ble in the azure, gleamed out more brilliantly at every moment, 
 until it blazed as if in triumph at the sun's retreat. 'Tis a 
 fair land that of France, a gentle, a green, and a beautiful ; 
 the home of arts and arms, of chivalry and romance, and (how- 
 ever sadly stained by the excesses of modern times) 'twas the 
 unbought grace of nations once, and the seat of ancient re- 
 nown and disciplined valor. 
 
 And of all that fair land of France, whose beauty is so 
 bright and bravery is so famous, there is no spot greener or 
 (44) 
 
BARBAZURE. 
 
 45 
 
 fairer than that one over which our travellers wended, and 
 which stretches between the good towns of Vendemiaire and 
 Nivose. 'Tis common now to a hundred thousand voyagers : 
 the English tourist with his chariot and his Harvey's Sauce, 
 and his imperials ; the bustling commis-voyageur on the roof of 
 the rumbling diligence ; the rapid malle-poste thundering over 
 the chaussee at twelve miles an hour — pass the ground hourly 
 and daily now : 'twas lonely and unfrequented at the end of 
 that seventeenth century with which our story commences. 
 
 Along the darkening mountain-paths the two gentlemen 
 (for such their outward bearing proclaimed them) caracolled 
 together. The one, seemingly the younger of the twain, wore a 
 flaunting feather in his barret-cap, and managed a prancing 
 Andalusian palfrey that bounded and curvetted gayly. A sur- 
 coat of peach-colored samite and a purfled doublet of vair 
 bespoke him noble, as did his brilliant eye, his exquisitely 
 chiselled nose, and his curling chestnut ringlets. 
 
 Youth was on his brow : his eyes were dark and dewy, like 
 spring violets ; and spring-roses bloomed upon his cheek — ■ 
 roses, alas ! that bloom and die with life's spring ! Now 
 bounding ever a rock, now playfully whisking off with his 
 riding rod a floweret in his path, Philibert de Coquelicot rode 
 by his darker companion. 
 
 His comrade was mounted upon a destriere of the true Nor- 
 man breed, that had first champed grass on the green pastures 
 of Aquitaine. Thence through Berry, Picardy, and the Limou- 
 sin, halting at many a city and commune, holding joust and 
 tourney in many a castle and manor df Navarre, Poitou, and 
 St. Germain l'Auxerrois, the warrior and his charger reached 
 the lonely spot where now we find them. 
 
 The warrior who bestrode the noble beast was in sooth 
 worthy of the steed which bore him. Both were caparisoned 
 in the fullest trappings of feudal war. The arblast, the man- 
 gonel, the demi-culverin, and the cuissart of the period, glittered 
 upon the neck and chest of the war-steed ; while the rider, 
 with chamfron and catapult, with ban and arriere-ban, morion 
 and tumbrel, battle-axe and rifflard, and the other appurtenances 
 of ancient chivalry, rode stately on his steel-clad charger, him- 
 self a tower of steel. This mighty horseman was carried by 
 his steed as lightly as the young springald by his Andalusian 
 hackney. 
 
 " 'Twas well done of thee, Philibert/' said he of the proof- 
 armor, " to ride forth so far to welcome thy cousin and com- 
 panion in arms." 
 
46 
 
 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 " Companion in battledore and shuttlecock, Romane de 
 Clos-Vougeot ! " replied the younger Cavalier. " When I was 
 yet a page, thou wert a belted knight ; and thou wert away to 
 the Crusades ere ever my beard grew." 
 
 " I stood by Richard of England at the gates of Ascalon, 
 and drew the spear from sainted King Louis in the tents 
 of Damietta," the individual addressed as Romane replied. 
 " Well-a-day ! since thy beard grew, boy (and marry 'tis yet a 
 thin one), I have broken a lance with Solyman at Rhodes, and 
 smoked a chibouque with Saladin at Acre. But enough of this. 
 Tell me of home — of our native valley — of my hearth, and my 
 lady-mother, and my good chaplain — tell me of her, Philibert," 
 said the knight, executing a demi-volte, in order to hide his 
 emotion. 
 
 Philibert seemed uneasy, and to strive as though he would 
 parry the question. " The castle stands on the rock," he said, 
 " and the swallows still build in the battlements. The good 
 chaplain still chants his vespers at morn, and snuffles his 
 matins at even-song. The lady-mother still distributeth tracts, 
 and knitteth Berlin linsey-woolsey. The tenants pay no better, 
 and the lawyers dun as sorely, kinsman mine," he added with 
 an arch look. 
 
 " But Fatima, Fatima, how fares she ? " Romane continued. 
 " Since Lammas was a twelvemonth, I hear nought of her ; 
 my letters are unanswered. The postman hath traversed our 
 camp every day, and never brought me a billet. How is 
 Fatima, Philibert de Coquelicot ? " 
 
 " She is — well," Philibert replied ; " her sister Anne is the 
 fairest of the twain, though." 
 
 " Her sister Anne was a baby when I embarked for Egypt. 
 A plague on sister Anne ! Speak of Fatima, Philibert — my 
 blue-eyed Fatima ! " 
 
 " I say she is — well," answered his comrade gloomily. 
 
 "Is she dead? Is she ill ? Hath she the measles? Nay, 
 hath she had small-pox, and lost her beauty ? Speak ! speak, 
 boy ! " cried the knight, wrought to agony. 
 
 " Her cheek is as red as her mother's, though the old 
 countess paints hers every day. Her foot is as light as a 
 sparrow's, and her voice as sweet as a minstrel's dulcimer ; but 
 give me nathless the Lady Anne," cried Philibert ; " give me 
 the peerless Lady Anne ! As soon as ever I have won spurs, 
 I will ride all Christendom through, and proclaim her the 
 Queen of Beauty. Ho, Lady Anne ! Lady Anne ! " and so 
 saying — but evidently wishing to disguise some emotion, or con- 
 
BARBAZURE. 
 
 47 
 
 ceal some tale his friend . could ill brook to hear — the reckless 
 damoiseau galloped wildly forward. 
 
 But swift as was his courser's pace, that of his compan- 
 ion's enormous charger was swifter. "Boy," said the elder, 
 "thou hast ill tidings. I know it by thy glance. Speak: 
 shall he who hath bearded grim Death in a thousand fields 
 shame to face truth from a friend ? Speak, in the name of 
 heaven and good Saint Botibol. Romane de Clos-Vougeot 
 will bear your tidings like a man ! " 
 
 " Fatima is well," answered Philibert once again ; " she 
 hath had no measles : she lives and is still fair." 
 
 " Fair, ay, peerless fair : but what more, Philibert ? Not 
 false ? By Saint Botibol, say not false," groaned the elder 
 warrior. 
 
 "A month syne," Philibert replied, "she married the Baron 
 de Barbazure." 
 
 With that scream which is so terrible in a strong man in 
 agony, the brave knight Romane de Clos-Vougeot sank back 
 at the words, and fell from his charger to the ground, a lifeless 
 mass of steel. 
 
 II. 
 
 Like many another fabric of feudal war ana splendor, the 
 once vast and magnificent Castle of Barbazure is now a moss- 
 grown ruin. The traveller of the present day, w T ho wanders by 
 the banks of the silvery Loire, and climbs the steep on which 
 the magnificent edifice stood, can scarcely trace, among the 
 shattered masses of ivy-covered masonry which lie among the 
 lonely crags, even the skeleton of the proud and majestic palace 
 stronghold of the Barons of Barbazure. 
 
 In the days of our tale its turrets and pinnacles rose as 
 stately, and seemed (to the pride of sinful man I) as strong as 
 the eternal rocks on which they stood. The three mullets on 
 a gules wavy reversed, surmounted by the sinople couchant 
 Or ; the well-known cognizance of the house, blazed in gor- 
 geous heraldry on a hundred banners, surmounting as many 
 towers. The long lines of battlemented walls spread down 
 the mountain to the Loire, and were defended by thousands of 
 steel-clad serving-men. Four hundred knights and six times 
 as many archers fought round the banner of Barbazure at Bou- 
 
 4 
 
4 8 
 
 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 vines, Malplaquet, and Azincour. For his services at Fonte- 
 noy against the English, the heroic Charles Martel appointed 
 the fourteenth Baron Hereditary Grand Bootjack of the king- 
 dom of France ; and for wealth, and for splendor, and for skill 
 and fame in war, Raoul, the twenty-eighth Baron, was in nowise 
 inferior to his noble ancestors. 
 
 That the Baron Raoul levied toll upon the river and mail 
 upon the shore ; that he now and then ransomed a burgher, 
 plundered a neighbor, or drew the fangs of a Jew ; that he 
 burned an enemy's castle with the wife and children within ; 
 these were points for which the country knew and respected the 
 stout Baron. When he returned from victory, he was sure to en- 
 dow the Church with a part of his spoil, so that when he went 
 forth to battle he was always accompanied by her blessing. 
 Thus lived the Baron Raoul, the pride of the country in which 
 he dwelt, an ornament to the Court, the Church, and his 
 neighbors. 
 
 But in the midst of all his power and splendor there was a 
 domestic grief which deeply afflicted the princely Barbazure. 
 His lovely ladies died one after the other. No sooner was he 
 married than he was a widower ; in the course of eighteen 
 years no less than nine bereavements had befallen the chief- 
 tain. So true it is, that if fortune is a parasite, grief is a re- 
 publican, and visits the hall of the great and wealthy as it does 
 the humbler tenements of the poor. 
 
 Jfe 4fe 4fc 
 
 "TV *7r *7V" *7v *x 
 
 " Leave off deploring thy faithless, gad-about lover," said 
 the Lady of Chacabacque to her daughter, the lovely Fatima, 
 " and think how the noble Barbazure loves thee ! Of all the 
 damsels at the ball last night, he had eyes for thee and thy 
 cousin only." 
 
 " I am sure my cousin hath no good looks to be proud of ! " 
 the admirable Fatima exclaimed, bridling up. "Not that / 
 care for my Lord of Barbazure's looks. My heart, dearest 
 mother, is with him who is far away ! " 
 
 " He danced with thee four galliards, nine quadrilles, and 
 twenty-three corantoes, I think, child," the mother said, elud- 
 ing her daughter's remark. 
 
 " Twenty-five," said lovely Fatima, casting her beautiful 
 eyes to the ground. " Heigh-ho ! but Romane danced them 
 very well ! " 
 
 " He had not the court air," the mother suggested. 
 " I don't wish to deny the beauty of the Lord of Barbazure's 
 dancing, mamma," Fatima replied. " For a short, lusty man, 
 
BARBAZURE. 
 
 49 
 
 'tis wondrous how active he is ; and in dignity the King's Grace 
 himself could not surpass him." 
 
 " You were the noblest couple in the room, love," the lady 
 cried. 
 
 " That pea-green doublet, slashed with orange tawney, those 
 ostrich plumes, blue, red, and yellow, those parti-colored hose 
 and pink shoon, became the noble baron wondrous well," Fa- 
 tima acknowledged. " It must be confessed that, though mid- 
 dle-aged, he hath all the agility of youth. But alas, madam ! 
 The noble baron hath had nine wives already." 
 
 44 And your cousin would give her eyes to become the 
 tenth," the mother replied. 
 
 " My cousin give her eyes ! " Fatima exclaimed. " It's not 
 much, I'm sure, for she squints abominably." And thus the 
 ladies prattled, as they rode home at night after the great ball 
 at the house of the Baron of Barbazure. 
 
 The gentle reader, who has overheard their talk, will under- 
 stand the doubts which pervaded the mind of the lovely Fatima, 
 and the well-nurtured English maiden will participate in the 
 divided feelings which rent her bosom. 'Tis true, that on his 
 departure for the holy wars, Romane and Fatima were plighted 
 to each other ; but the folly of long engagements is proverbial ; 
 and though for many months the faithful and affectionate girl 
 had looked in vain for news from him, her admirable parents 
 had long spoken with repugnance of a match which must bring 
 inevitable poverty to both parties. They had suffered, 'tis true, 
 the engagement to subside, hostile as they ever were to it ; but 
 when on the death of the ninth lady of Barbazure, the noble 
 baron remarked Fatima at the funeral, and rode home with her 
 after the ceremony, her prudent parents saw how much wiser, 
 better, happier for their child it would be to have for life a 
 partner like the baron, than to wait the doubtful return of the 
 penniless wanderer to whom she was plighted. 
 
 Ah ! how beautiful and pure a being ! how regardless of 
 self ! how true to duty ! how obedient to parental command, is 
 that earthly angel, a well-bred woman of genteel family ! In- 
 stead of indulging in splene f ic refusals or vain regrets for her 
 absent lover, the exemplary Fatima at once signified to her ex- 
 cellent parents her willingness to obey their orders ; though 
 she had sorrows (and she declared them to be tremendous), 
 the admirable being disguised them so well, that none knew 
 they oppressed her. She said she would try to forget former 
 ties, and (so strong in her mind was duty above every other 
 feeling ! — so strong may it be in every British maiden !) the 
 
\ 
 
 5 o A r 6> VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 lovely girl kept her promise. " My former engagements/' she 
 said, packing up Romane's letters and presents, (which, as the 
 good knight was mortal poor, were in sooth of no great price) 
 — " my former engagements I look upon as childish follies ; — ■ 
 my affections are fixed where my dear parents graft them — on 
 the noble, the princely, the polite Barbazure. 'Tis true he is 
 not comely in feature, but the chaste and well-bred female 
 knows how to despise the fleeting charms of form. 'Tis true 
 he is old ; but can woman be better employed than in tending 
 her agecl and sickly companion ? That he has been married is 
 likewise certain — but ah, my mother ! who knows not that he 
 must be a good and tender husband, who, nine times wedded, 
 owns that he cannot be happy without another partner ? " 
 
 It was with these admirable sentiments the lovely Fatima 
 proposed obedience to her parents' will, and consented to re- 
 ceive the magnificent marriage-gift presented to her by her gal- 
 lant bridegroom. 
 
 III. 
 
 The old Countess of Chacabacque had made a score of 
 vain attempts to see her hapless daughter. Ever, when she 
 came, the porters grinned at her savagely through the grating 
 of the portcullis of the vast embattled gate of the Castle of 
 Barbazure, and rudely bade her begone. " The Lady of Bar- 
 bazure sees nobody but her confessor, and keeps her chamber," 
 was the invariable reply of the dogged functionaries to the en- 
 treaties of the agonized mother. And at length, so furious was 
 he at her perpetual calls at his gate, that the angry Lord of 
 Barbazure himself, who chanced to be at the postern, armed a 
 cross-bow, and let fly an arblast at the crupper of the lady's 
 palfrey, whereon she fled finally, screaming, and in terror. " I 
 will aim at the rider next time ! " howled the ferocious baron, 
 " and not at the horse ! " And those who knew his savage 
 nature and his unrivalled skill as a bowman, knew that he 
 wouM neither break his knightly promise nor miss his aim. 
 
 Since the fatal day when the Grand Duke of Burgundy gave 
 his famous passage of arms at Nantes, and all the nobles of 
 France were present at the joustings, it was remarked that the 
 Barbazure's heart was changed towards his gentle and virtuous 
 lady. 
 
BARBAZURE. e x 
 
 For the three first days of that famous festival, the redoubted 
 Baron of Barbazure had kept the field against all the knights 
 who entered. His lance bore everything down before it. The 
 most famous champions of Europe, assembled at these joust- 
 ings, had dropped, one by one, before this tremendous warrior. 
 The prize of the tourney was destined to be his, and he was to 
 be proclaimed bravest of the brave, as his lady was the fairest 
 of the fair. 
 
 On the third day, however, as the sun was declining over 
 the Vosges, and the shadows were lengthening over the plain 
 where the warrior had obtained such triumphs ; — after having 
 overcome two hundred and thirteen knights of different nations, 
 including the fiery Dunois, the intrepid Walter Manny, the 
 spotless Bayard, and the undaunted Duguesclin, as the con- 
 queror sat still erect on his charger, and the multitude doubted 
 whether ever another champion could be found to face him, 
 three blasts of a trumpet were heard, faint at first, but at every 
 moment ringing more clearly, until a knight in pink armor rode 
 into the lists with his visor down, and riding a tremendous dun 
 charger, which he managed to the admiration of all present. 
 
 The heralds asked him his name and quality. 
 
 " Call me," said he, in a hollow voice, "the Jilted Knight." 
 What was it made the Lady of Barbazure tremble at his ac- 
 cents* 
 
 The Knight refused to tell his name and qualities ; but the 
 companion who rode with him, the young and noble Philibert 
 de Co'quelicot, who was known and respected universally 
 through the neighborhood, gave a warranty for the birth and 
 noble degree of the Jilted Knight — and Raoul de Barbazure, 
 yelling hoarsely for a two-hundred-and-fourteenth lance, shook 
 the huge weapon in the air as though it were a reed, and pre- 
 pared to encounter the intruder. 
 
 According to the wont of chivalry, and to keep the point of 
 the spear from harm, the top of the unknown knight's lance 
 was shielded with a bung, which the warrior removed and 
 galloping up to Barbazure's pavilion, over which his shield 
 hung, touched that noble cognizance with the sharpened steel. 
 A thrill of excitement ran through the assembly at this daring 
 challenge to a combat d Voutrance. " Hast thou confessed, Sir 
 Knight ? " roared the Barbazure ; " take thy ground, and look 
 to thyself ; for by heaven thy last hour is come ! ". " Poor 
 youth, poor youth!" sighed the spectators; "he has called 
 down his own fate." The next minute the signal was given, 
 and as the simoom across the desert, the cataract down the 
 
52 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 rock, the shell from the howitzer, each warrior rushed from his 
 goal. 
 
 # # # # # ^ 
 
 " Thou wilt not slay so good a champion ? " said the Grand 
 Duke, as at the end of that terrific combat the knight in rose 
 armor stood over his prostrate foe, whose helmet had rolled off 
 when he was at length unhorsed, and whose bloodshot eyes 
 glared unutterable hate and ferocity on his conqueror. 
 
 "Take thy life," said he who had styled himself the Jilted 
 Knight ; "thou hast taken all that was dear to me." And the 
 sun setting, and no other warrior appearing to do battle against 
 him, he was proclaimed the conqueror, and rode up to the 
 duchess's balcony to receive the gold chain which was the re- 
 ward of the victor. He raised his visor as the smiling princess 
 guerdoned him — raised it, and gave one sad look towards the 
 Lady Fatima at her side ! 
 
 " Romane de Clos-Vougeot ! " shrieked she, and fainted. 
 The Baron of Barbazure heard the name as he writhed on the 
 ground with his wound, and by his slighted honor, by his broken 
 ribs, by his roused fury, he swore revenge ; and the Lady 
 Fatima, who had come to the tourney as a queen, returned to 
 her castle as a prisoner. 
 
 (As it is impossible to give the whole of this remarkable 
 novel, let it suffice to say briefly here, that in about a volume 
 and a half, in which the descriptions of scenery, the account of 
 the agonies of the baroness, kept on bread-and-water in her 
 dungeon, and the general tone of morality, are all excellently 
 worked out, the Baron de Barbazure resolves upon putting his 
 wife to death by the hands of the public executioner.) 
 
 "7v *7V' "TV* "TV *7V 
 
 Two minutes before the clock struck noon, the savage 
 baron was on the platform to inspect the preparation for the 
 frightful ceremony of mid-day. 
 
 The block was laid forth — the hideous minister of ven- 
 geance, masked and in black, with the flaming glaive in his 
 hand, was ready. The baron tried the edge of the blade with 
 his finger, and asked the dreadful swordsman if his hand was 
 sure ? A nod was the-reply of the man of blood. The weeping 
 garrison and domestics shuddered and shrank from him. There 
 was not one there but loved and pitied the gentle lady. 
 
 Pale, pale as a stone, she was brought from her dungeon. 
 To all her lord's savage interrogatories, her reply had been, "I 
 am innocent." To his threats of death her answer was, "You 
 are my lord ; my life is in your hands, to take or to give." How 
 
BARBAZURE. 53 
 
 few are the wives, in our day, who show such angelic meekness ! 
 It touched all hearts around her, save that of the implacable 
 Barbazure ! Even the Lady Blanche (Fatima's cousin), whom 
 he had promised to marry upon his faithless wife's demise, be- 
 sought for her kinswoman's life, and a divorce ; but Barbazure 
 had vowed her death. 
 
 " Is there no pity, sir ? " asked the chaplain who had at- 
 tended her. 
 
 " No pity ? " echoed the weeping serving-maid. 
 
 " Did I not aye say I would die for my lord ? " said the 
 gentle lady, and placed herself at the block. 
 
 Sir Raoul de Barbazure seized up the long ringlets of her 
 raven hair. " Now ! " shouted he to the executioner, with a 
 stamp of his foot — " Now strike ! " 
 
 The man (who knew his trade) advanced at once, and 
 poised himself to deliver his blow : and making his flashing 
 sword sing in the air, with one irresistible, rapid stroke, it 
 sheared clean off the head of the furious, the blood-thirsty, the 
 implacable Baron de Barbazure ! 
 
 Thus he fell a victim to his own jealousy; and the agitation 
 of the Lady Fatima may be imagined, when the executioner, 
 flinging off his mask, knelt gracefully at her feet, and revealed 
 to her the well-known features of Romane de Clos-Vougeot. 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 
 
 By the Authoress of " Dukes and Dejeuners," " Hearts and 
 Diamonds," " Marchionesses and Milliners," etc., etc. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Corbleu ! What a lovely creature that was in the Fitz- 
 battleaxe box to-night," said one of a group of young dandies 
 who were leaning over the velvet-cushioned balconies of the 
 " Coventry Club," smoking their full-flavored Cubas (from 
 Hudson's) after the opera. 
 
 Everybody stared at such an exclamation of enthusiasm 
 from the lips of the young Earl of Bagnigge, who was never 
 heard to admire anything except a coulis de dindo?ineau a la St. 
 Menehould, or a supreme de cochon en torticolis a la Piffarde ; such 
 as Champollion, the chef of the "Traveller's," only knows how 
 to dress ; or the bouquet of a flask of Medoc, of Carbonell's 
 best quality ; or a goutte of Marasquin, from the cellars of 
 Briggs and Hobson. 
 
 Alured de Pentonville, eighteenth Earl of Bagnigge, Vis- 
 count Paon of Islington, Baron Pancras, Kingscross, and a 
 Baronet, was, like too many of our young men of ton, utterly 
 blase, although only in his twenty-fourth year. Blest, luckily, 
 with a mother of excellent principles (who had imbued his 
 young mind with that Morality which is so superior to all the 
 vain pomps of the world !) it had not been always the young 
 earl's lot to wear the coronet for which he now in sooth cared 
 so little. His father, a captain of Britain's navy, struck down 
 by the side of the gallant Collingwood in the Bay of Fundy, left 
 little but his sword and spotless name to his young, lovely, and 
 inconsolable widow, who passed the first years of her mourning 
 in educating her child in an elegant though small cottage in 
 one of the romantic marine villages of beautiful Devonshire. 
 (54) 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 
 
 55 
 
 Her child ! What a gush of consolation filled the widow's 
 heart as she pressed him to it ! How faithfully did she instil 
 into his young bosom those principles which had been the pole- 
 star of the existence of his gallant father ! 
 
 In this secluded retreat, rank and wealth almost boundless 
 found the widow and her boy. The seventeenth Earl — gallant 
 and in the prime of youth — went forth one day from the Eternal 
 City to a steeple-chase in the Campagna. A mutilated corpse 
 was brought back to his hotel in the Piazza di Spagna. Death, 
 alas ! is no respecter of the Nobility. That shattered form 
 was all that remained of the fiery, the haughty, the wild, but 
 the generous Altamont de Pentonville ! Such, such is fate ! 
 
 The admirable Emily de Pentonville trembled with all a 
 mother's solicitude at the distinctions and honors which thus 
 suddenly descended on her boy. She engaged an excellent 
 clergyman of the Church of England to superintend his studies ; 
 to accompany him on foreign travel when the proper season 
 arrived ; to ward from him those dangers which dissipation 
 always throws in the way of the noble, the idle, and the wealthy. 
 But the Reverend Cyril Delaval died of the measles at Naples, 
 and henceforth the young Earl of Bagnigge was without a 
 guardian. 
 
 What was trie consequence ? That, at three-and-twenty, he 
 was a cynic and an epicure. He had drained the cup of 
 pleasure till it had palled in his unnerved hand. Pie had looked 
 at the Pyramids without awe, at the Alps without reverence. 
 He was unmoved by the sandy solitudes of the Desert as by 
 the placid depths of Mediterranean's sea of blue. Bitter, bitter 
 tears did Emily de Pentonville weep, when, on Alured's return 
 from the Continent, she beheld the awful change that dissipation 
 had wrought in her beautiful, her blue-eyed, her perverted, her 
 still beloved boy ! 
 
 " Corpo di Bacco," he said, pitching the end of his cigar 
 on to the red nose of the Countess of Delawaddymore's coach- 
 man — who, having deposited her fat .ladyship at No. 236 Pic- 
 cadilly, was driving the carriage to the stables, before com- 
 mencing his evening at the " Fortune of War " public-house — 
 " what a lovely creature that was ! What eyes ! what hair ! 
 Who knows her ? Do you, mon cher prince ? " 
 
 " E bellissima, certamente," said the Duca de Montepulci- 
 ano, and stroked down his jetty mustache. 
 
 " Ein gar schones Madchen," said the Hereditary Grand 
 Duke of Eulenschreckenstein, and turned up his carroty one. 
 
 " Elle n'est pas mal, ma foi ! " said the* Prince de Borodino, 
 
56 
 
 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 with a scowl on his darkling brows. " Mon Dieu, que ces 
 cigarres sont mauvais ! " he added, as he too cast away his 
 Cuba. 
 
 " Try one of my Pickwicks/' said Franklin Fox, with a 
 sneer, offering his gold etui to the young Frenchman ; " they 
 are some of Pontet's best, prince. What, do you bear malice"? 
 Come, let us be friends," said the gay and careless young 
 patrician ; but a scowl on the part of the Frenchman was the 
 only reply. 
 
 — " Want to know who she is ? Borodino knows who she is, 
 Bagnigge," the wag went on. 
 
 Everybody crowded round Monsieur de Borodino thus 
 apostrophized. The Marquis of Alicompayne, young De Boots 
 of the Life-guards, Tom Protocol of the Foreign Office ; the 
 gay young Peers, Farintosh, Poldoody, and the rest ; and 
 Bagnigge, for a wonder, not less eager than any one present. 
 
 " No, he will tell you nothing about her. Don't you see he 
 has gone off in a fury ! " Franklin Fox continued. " He has 
 his reasons, ce cher prince : he will tell you nothing ; but I 
 will. You know that I am au mieux with the dear old duchess." 
 
 " They say Frank and she are engaged after the duke's 
 'death," cried Poldoody. 
 
 " I always thought Fwank was the duke's illicit gweat- 
 gwandson," drawled out De Boots. - 
 
 "I heard that he doctored her Blenheim, and used to bring 
 her wigs from Paris," cried that malicious Tom Protocol, whose 
 mots are known in every diplomatic salon from Petersburg to 
 Palermo. 
 
 " Burn her wigs, and hang her poodle ! " said Bagnigge. 
 " Tell me about this girl, Franklin Fox." 
 
 " In the first place, she has five hundred thousand acres, in 
 a ring fence, in Norfolk ; a county in Scotland, a castle in 
 Wales, a villa at Richmond, a corner house in Belgrave Square, 
 and eighty thousand a year in the three-per-cents." 
 
 " Apres ? " said Bagnigge, still yawning. 
 
 " Secondly, Borodino lui fait la cour. They are cousins, 
 her mother was an Armagnac of the emigration ; the old 
 Marshal, his father, married another sister. I believe he was 
 footman in the family, before Napoleon princified him." 
 
 " No, no, he was second coachman," Tom Protocol good- 
 naturedly interposed — " a cavalry officer, Frank, not an infantry 
 man." 
 
 u 'Faith you should have seen his fury (the young one's, I 
 mean) when he found me in the duchess's room this evening, 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 
 
 57 
 
 tete-a-tete with the heiress, who deigned to accept a bouquet 
 from this hand." 
 
 "It cost me three guineas," poor Frank said, with a shrug 
 and a sigh, " and that Covent Garden scoundrel gives no credit ; 
 but she took the flowers ; — eh, Bagnigge ? " 
 
 " And flung them to Alboni," the Peer replied, with a haughty 
 sneer. And poor little Franklin Fox was compelled to own 
 that she had. 
 
 The mditre d' hotel here announced that supper was served. 
 It was remarked that even the coulis de dindo7tneau made no 
 impression on Bagnigge that night. 
 
 II. 
 
 The sensation produced by the debut of Amethyst Pimlico 
 at the court of the sovereign, and in the salons of the beau monde, 
 was such as has seldom been created by the appearance of any 
 other beauty. The men were raving with love, and the women 
 w 7 ith jealousy. Her eyes, her beauty, her wit, her grace, her 
 ton, caused a perfect fureur of admiration or envy. 
 
 Introduced by the Duchess of Fitzbattleaxe, along with her 
 Grace's daughters, the Ladies Gwendoline and Gwinever Port- 
 cullis, the heiress's regal beauty quite flung her cousins' simple 
 charms into the shade, and blazed with a splendor which caused 
 all " minor lights " to twinkle faintly. Before a day the beau 
 monde, before a week even the vulgarians of the rest of the 
 town, rang with the fame of her charms ; and while the dandies 
 and the beauties were raving about her, or tearing her to pieces 
 in May Fair, even Mrs. Dobbs (who had been to the pit of 
 the " Hoperer " in a green turban and a crumpled yellow 
 satin) talked about the great hairess to her D. in Bloomsbury 
 Square. 
 
 Crowds went to Squab and Lynch's, in Long Acre, to ex- 
 amine the carriages building for her, so faultless, so splendid, 
 so quiet, so odiously unostentatious and provokingly simple ! 
 Besides the ancestral services of argenterie and vaisselle plate, 
 contained in a hundred and seventy-six plate chests at Messrs. 
 Childs', ' Rumble and Briggs prepared a gold service, and 
 Garraway, of the Haymarket, a service of the Benvenuto Cellini 
 pattern, which were the admiration of all London. Before a 
 month it is a fact that the wretched haberdashers in the City 
 exhibited the blue stocks, called " Heiress-killers, very chaste 
 
NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 two-and-six : " long before that the monde had rushed to Madame 
 Crinoline's, or sent couriers to Madame Marabou, at Paris, so 
 as to have copies of her dresses ; but, as the Mantuan bard 
 observes, " Non cuivis contigit," — every foot cannot accom- 
 modate itself to the chaussure of Cinderella. 
 
 With all this splendor, this worship, this beauty ; with these 
 cheers following her, and these crowds at her feet, was Ame- 
 thyst happy ? Ah, no ! It is not under the necklace the most 
 brilliant that Briggs and Rumble can supply, it is not in Lynch's 
 best cushioned chariot that the heart is most at ease. " Que 
 je me mineral'' says Fronsac in a letter to Bossuet, " si je 
 savais ou acheter le bonheur ! " 
 
 With all her riches, with all her splendor, Amethyst was 
 wretched — wretched, because lonely ; wretched, because her 
 loving heart had nothing to cling to. Her splendid mansion 
 was a convent ; no male person ever entered it, except Franklin 
 Fox (who counted for nothing), and the duchess's family, her 
 kinsman old Lord Humpington, his friend old Sir John Fogey, 
 and her cousin, the odious, odious Borodino. 
 
 The Prince de Borodino declared openly that Amethyst was 
 engaged to him. Crible de dettes, it is no wonder that he should 
 choose such an opportunity to refaire sa fortune. He gave out 
 that he would kill any man who should cast an eye on the 
 heiress, and the monster kept his word. Major Grigg, of the 
 Lifeguards, had already fallen by his hand at Ostend. The 
 O'Toole, who had met her on the Rhine, had received a ball 
 in his shoulder at Coblentz, and did not care to resume so 
 dangerous a courtship. Borodino could snuff a bougie at a 
 hundred and fifty yards. He could beatBertrand or Alexander 
 Dumas himself with the small-sword : he was the dragon that 
 watched this pomme d'or, and very few persons were now 
 inclined to face a champion si redout able. 
 
 Over a salmi d'escargot at the " Coventry," the dandies 
 whom we introduced in our last volume were assembled there 
 talking of the heiress ; and her story was told by Franklin Fox 
 to Lord Bagnigge, who, for a wonder, was interested in the 
 tale. Borodino's pretensions were discussed, and the way in 
 which the fair Amethyst was confined. Fitzbattleaxe House, 
 in Belgrave Square, is — as everybody knows — the next man- 
 sion to that occupied by Amethyst. A communication was 
 made between the two houses. She never went out except 
 accompanied by the duchess's guard, which it was impossible 
 to overcome. 
 
 " Impossible ! Nothing's impossible," said Lord Bagnigge. 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES. 
 
 59 
 
 "I bet you what you like you don't get m," said the young 
 Marquis of Martingale. 
 
 " I bet you a thousand ponies I stop a week in the heiress's 
 house before the season's over," Lord Bagnigge replied with a 
 yawn ; and the bet was registered with shouts of applause. 
 
 But it seemed as if the Fates had determined against Lord 
 Bagnigge, for the very next day, riding in the Park, his horse 
 fell with him ; he was carried home to his house with a frac- 
 tured limb and a dislocated shoulder ; and the doctor's bul- 
 letins pronounced him to be in the most dangerous state. 
 
 Martingale was a married man, and there was no danger of 
 his riding by the Fitzbattleaxe carriage. A fortnight after the 
 above events, his lordship was prancing by her Grace's great 
 family coach, and chattering with Lady Gwinever about the 
 strange wager. 
 
 " Do you know what a pony is, Lady Gwinever ? " he asked. 
 Her ladyship said yes : she had a cream-colored one at Castle 
 Barbican ; and stared when Lord Martingale announced that 
 he should soon have a thousand ponies, worth five-and-twenty 
 pounds each, which were all now kept at Coutt's. Then he 
 explained the circumstances of the bet with Bagnigge. Parlia- 
 ment was to adjourn in ten days ; the season would be over! 
 Bagnigge was lying ill chez lui ; and the five-and-twenty thou- 
 sand were irrecoverably his. And he vowed he would buy 
 Lord Binnacle's yacht — crew, captain, guns and all. 
 
 On returning home that night from Lady Polkimore's, Mar- 
 tingale found among the many billets upon the gold plateau in 
 his anti-chambre the following brief one, which made him 
 start : — 
 
 " Dear Martingale. — Don't be too sure of Binnacle's 
 yacht. There are still ten days before the season is over; and 
 my ponies may lie at Coutts's for some time to come. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Bagnigge. 
 
 " P. S. — I write with my left hand ; for my right is still 
 splintered up from that confounded fall." 
 
6c 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 HI, 
 
 The tall footman, number four, who had come in the place 
 of John, cashiered, (for want of proper mollets, and because his 
 hair did not take powder well,) had given great satisfaction to 
 the under-butler, who reported well of him to his chief, who 
 had mentioned his name with praise to the house-steward. 
 He was so good-looking and well-spoken a young man, that the 
 ladies in the housekeeper's room deigned to notice him more 
 than once ; nor was his popularity diminished on account of a 
 quarrel in which he engaged with Monsieur Anatole, the enor- 
 mous Walloon chasseur, who was one day found embracing 
 Miss Flouncy, who waited on Amethyst's own maid. The 
 very instant Miss Flouncy saw Mr. Jeames entering the Ser- 
 vants' Hall, where Monsieur Anatole w r as engaged in " aggra- 
 vating" her, Miss Flouncy screamed : at the next moment the 
 Belgian giant lay t sprawling upon the carpet ; and Jeames, 
 standing over him, assumed so terrible a look, that the chasseur 
 declined any further combat. The victory was made known to 
 the house-steward himself, who, being a little partial to Miss 
 Flouncy herself, complimented Jeames on his valor, and poured 
 out a glass of Madeira in his own room. 
 
 Who was Jeames ? He had come recommended by the 
 Bagnigge people. He had lived, he said, in that family two 
 years. " But where there was no ladies," he said, " a gentle- 
 man's hand was spiled for service ; " and Jeames's was a very 
 delicate hand ; Miss Flouncy admired it very much, and of 
 f course he did not defile it by menial service : he had in a young 
 man who called him sir, and did all the coarse work ; and 
 Jeames read the morning paper to the ladies * not spellingly 
 and with hesitation, as many gentlemen do, but easily and ele- 
 gantly, speaking off the longest words without a moment's diffi- 
 culty. He could speak French, too, Mi s Flouncy found, who 
 was studying it under Mademoiselle Grande Jille-de-chambre de 
 confiance ; for when she said to him, " Polly voo Fransy, Mun- 
 seer Jeames?" he replied readily, "We, Mademaselle, j'ay 
 passay boco de tong k Parry. Commong voo potty voo ? " 
 How Miss Flouncy admired him as he stood before her, the 
 day after he had saved Miss Amethyst when the horses had 
 run away with her in the Park ! 
 
 Poor Flouncy, poor Flouncy ! Jeames had been but a week 
 in Amethyst's service, and already the gentle heart of the wash- 
 
LORDS AND LIVERIES, 
 
 61 
 
 ing-girl was irrecoverably gone ! Poor Flouncy ! poor Flouncy ! 
 he thought not of thee. 
 
 It happened thus. Miss Amethyst being engaged to drive 
 with her cousin the prince in his phaeton, her own carriage was 
 sent into the Park simply with her companion, who had charge 
 of her little Fido, the dearest little spaniel in the world. 
 Jeames and Frederick were behind the carriage with their long 
 sticks and neat dark liveries ; the horses were worth a thousand 
 guineas each, the coachman a late lieutenant-colonel of cav-, 
 airy : the whole ring could not boast a more elegant turn-out. 
 
 The prince drove his curricle, and had charge of his belle 
 cousine. It may have been the red fezzes in the carriage of the 
 Turkish ambassador which frightened the prince's grays, or 
 Mrs. Champignon's new yellow liveries, which were flaunting in 
 the* Park, or hideous Lady Gorgon's preternatural ugliness, 
 who passed in a low pony-carriage at the time, or the prince's 
 own want of skill, finally ; but certain it is that the horses took 
 fright, dashed wildly along the mile, scattered equipages, pietons, 
 dandies' cabs, and snobs' pheaytons. Amethyst was screaming ; 
 and the prince, deadly pale, had lost all presence of mind, as 
 the curricle came rushing by the spot where Miss Amethyst's 
 carriage stood. 
 
 " I'm blest," Frederick exclaimed to his companion, " if it 
 ain't the prince a-drivin our missis ! They'll be in the Serping- 
 tine, or dashed to pieces, if they don't mind." And the run- 
 away steeds at this instant came upon them as a whirlwind. 
 
 But if those steeds ran at a whirlwind pace, Jeames was 
 swifter. To jump from behind, to bound after the rocking, 
 reeling curricle, to jump into it aided by the long stick which 
 he carried and used as a leaping-pole, and to seize the reins 
 out of the hands of the miserable Borodino, who shrieked 
 piteously as the dauntless valet leapt on his toes and into his 
 seat, was the work of an instant. In a few minutes the mad, 
 swaying rush of the horses was reduced to a swift but steady 
 gallop ; presently into a canter, then a trot ; until finally they 
 pulled up smoking and trembling, but quite quiet, by the side 
 of Amethyst's carriage, which came up at a rapid pace. 
 
 "Give me the reins,, malappris ! tu m'ecrases le corps, 
 manant ! " yelled the frantic nobleman, writhing underneath 
 the intrepid charioteer. 
 
 " Tant pis pour toi, nigaud," was the reply. The lovely 
 Amethyst of course had fainted ; but she recovered as she was 
 placed in her carriage, and rewarded her preserver with a ce- 
 lestial smile. 
 
62 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 The rage, the fury, the maledictions of Borodino, as he szt-rr 
 the latter — a liveried menial — stoop gracefully forward and kioS 
 Amethyst's hand, may be imagined rather than described. But 
 Jeames heeded not his curses. Having placed his adored mis- 
 tress in the carriage, he calmly resumed his station behind. 
 Passion or danger seemed to have no impression upon that 
 pale marble face. 
 
 Borodino went home furious • nor was his rage diminished, 
 . when, on coming to dinner that day, a recherche banquet served 
 in the Frangipane best style, and requesting a supply of a puree 
 a la bisque aux ecrevisses, the clumsy attendant who served him 
 let fall the assiette of vermeille cisele, with its scalding contents, 
 over the prince's chin, his Mechlin jabot, and the grand cordon 
 of the Legion of Honor which he wore. 
 
 " Infame," howled Borodino, " tu l'as fait expres ! " 
 
 " Oui, je l'ai fait expres," said the man, with the most per- 
 fect Parisian accent. It was Jeames. 
 
 Such insolence of course could not be passed unnoticed 
 even after the morning's service, and he was chassed on the 
 spot. He had been but a week in the house. 
 
 The next month the newspapers contained a paragraph 
 which may possibly elucidate the above mystery, and to the 
 following effect : — 
 
 " Singular Wager. — One night, at the end of last season, 
 the young and eccentric Earl of B-gn-gge laid a wager of 
 twenty-five thousand pounds with a broken sporting patrician, 
 the dashing Marquis of M-rt-ng-le, that he would pass a week 
 under the roof of a celebrated and lovely young heiress, who 
 lives not a hundred miles from B-lgr-ve Squ-re. The bet hav- 
 ing been made, the earl pretended an illness, and having taken 
 lessons from one of his lordship's own footmen (Mr. James 
 Plush, whose name he also borrowed) in ' the mysteries of the 
 profession actually succeeded in making an entry into Miss 
 P-ml-co's mansion, where he stopped one week exactly ; having 
 time to win his bet, and to save the life of the lady, whom we 
 hear he is about to lead to the altar. Pie disarmed the Prince 
 of Borodino in a duel fought on Calais sands — and, it is said, 
 
 appeared at the C club wearing his plush costume under a 
 
 cloak, and displaying it as a proof that he had won his wager." 
 
 Such, indeed, were the circumstances. The young couple 
 have not more than nine hundred thousand a year, but they 
 live cheerfully, and manage to do good ; and Emily de Ponton- 
 ville, who adores her daughter-in-law and her little grand- 
 children, is blest in seeing her darling son enfin un homnie range'. 
 
CRINOLINE. 
 
 By Je-mes Pl-sh, Esq. 
 
 I. 
 
 I'm not at libbaty to divulj the reel names of the 2 Eroes of 
 the- igstrawny Tail which I am abowt to relait to those un- 
 lightnd paytrons of letarature and true connyshures of merrit 
 — the great Brittish public — But I pledj my varacity that this 
 singlar story of rewmantic love, absobbing pashn, and likewise 
 of genteel life, is, in the main fax, trew. The suckmstanzas I 
 elude to, ocurd in the rain of our presnt Gratious Madjisty 
 and her beluvd and roil Concert Prince Halbert. 
 
 Welthen. Some time in the seazen of 18 — (mor I dar not 
 rewheel) there arrived in this metropulus, per seknd class of 
 the London and Dover Railway, an ellygant young foring gen- 
 tleman, whom I shall danomminate Munseer Jools De Chac- 
 abac. 
 
 Having read through " The Vicker of Wackfield " in the 
 same oridganal English tung in which this very harticle I write 
 is wrote too, and halways been remarkyble, both at collidge and 
 in the estamminy, for his aytred and orror of perfidgus Halbion, 
 Munseer Jools was considered by the prapriretors of the news- 
 paper in which he wrote, at Parris, the very man to come to 
 this country, igsamin its manners and customs, cast an 1 upon 
 the politticle and finanshle stat of the Hempire, and igspose 
 the mackynations of the infymous Palmerston, and the ebom- 
 minable Sir Pill — both enemies of France ; as is every other 
 Britten of that great, gloarus, libberal, and peasable country. 
 In one word, Jools de Chacabac was a penny-a-liner. 
 
 " I will go see with my own Ts," he said, "that infimus 
 hiland of which the mnabitants are shopkeepers, gorged with 
 
 c (63) 
 
6 4 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 roast beef and treason. I will go and see the murderers of 
 the Hirish, the pisoners of the Chynese, the villians who put 
 the Hemperor to death in Saintyleany, the artful dodges who 
 wish to smother Europe with their cotton, and can't sleep or 
 rest heasy for henvy and hatred of the great inwinsable French 
 nation. I will igsammin, face to face, these hotty insularies ; I 
 will pennytrate into the secrets of their Jessywhittickle cabi- 
 net, and beard Palmerston in his denn." When he jumpt on 
 shor at Foaxton (after having been tremenguously sick in the 
 four-cabbing), he exclaimed, " Enfin je te tiens, He maudite ! 
 je te crache a la figure, vieille Angleterre ! Je te foule a mes 
 pieds au nom du monde outrage," and so proseaded to inwade 
 the metropulus. 
 
 As he wisht to micks with the very chicest sosiaty, and 
 git the best of infamation about this country, Munseer Jools of 
 coarse went and lodgd in Lester Square — Lester Squarr, as he 
 calls it — which, as he was infommed in the printed suckular 
 presented to him by a very greasy but polite comishner at the 
 Custumus Stares, was in the scenter of the town, contiggus to 
 the Ouses of Parlyment, the prinsple theayters, the parx, St. 
 Jams Pallice, and the Corts of Lor. "l ean surwhey them all 
 atone cut of the eye," Jools thought; "the Sovring, the in- 
 famus Ministers plotting the destruction of my immortial coun- 
 try ; the business and pleasure of these pusproud Londoners 
 and aristoxy ; I can look round and see all." So he took a 
 three-pair back in a French hotel, the " Hotel de l'Ail, kep by 
 Monsieur Gigotot, Cranbourne Street, Lester Squarr, London. 
 
 In this otell there's a billiard-room on the first floor, and a 
 tabble-doat at eighteenpence per edd at 5 o'clock ; and the land- 
 lord, who kem into Jools's room smoaking a segar, told the 
 young gent that the house was friquented by all the Brittish 
 nobillaty, who reglar took their dinners there. " They can't 
 ebicle their own quiseen" he said.. " You'll see what a dinner 
 we'll serve you to-day." Jools wrote off to his paper — 
 
 r " The members of the haughty and luxurious English aris- 
 tocracy, like all the rest of the world, are obliged to fly to France 
 for the indulgence of their luxuries. The nobles of England, 
 quitting their homes, their wives, miladies and misfriss, so fair 
 but so cold, dine universally at the tavern. That from which I 
 write is frequented by Peel and Palmerston. I fremis to think 
 that I may meet them at the board to-day." 
 
 Singlar to say, Peel and Palmerston didn't dine at the 
 " Hotel de l'Ail " on that evening. " It's quite igstronnary 
 they don't come," said Munseer de l'Ail. 
 
CRINOLINE. 
 
 65 
 
 " Peraps they're ingaged at some boxing-match, or some 
 combaw de cock" Munseer Jools sejested ; and the landlord 
 egreed that was very likely. 
 
 Instedd of English there was, however, plenty of foring 
 sociaty, of every nation under the sun. Most of the noble- 
 men were great hamatures of hale and porter. The table-cloth 
 was marked over with brown suckles, made by the pewter-pots 
 on that and the previous days. 
 
 " It is the usage here," wrote Jools to his newspaper, 
 " among the Anglais of the fashonne to absorb immense quan- 
 tities of ale and porter during their meals. These stupefying, 
 but cheap, and not unpalatable liquors are served in shining 
 pewter vessels. A mug of foaming hafanaf (so a certain sort 
 or beer is called) was placed by the side of most of the con- 
 vives. I was disappointed of seeing Sir Peel : he was engaged 
 to a combat of cocks which occurs at Windsor." 
 
 Not one word of English was spoke during this dinner, 
 excep when the gentlemen said " Garsong de Vafanaf" but 
 Jool was very much pleased to meet the eleet of the foringers in 
 town, and ask their opinion about the reel state of thinx. Was 
 it likely that the bishops were to be turned out of the Chambre 
 des Communes ? Was it true that Lor Palmerston had boxed 
 with Lor Broghamm in the House of Lords, until they were 
 sepparayted by the Lor Maire ? Who was the Lor Maire ? 
 Wasn't he Premier Minister ? and wasn't the Archeveque de 
 Cantorbery a Quaker ? He got answers to these questions 
 from the various gents round about during the dinner — which, 
 he remarked, was very much like a French dinner, only dirtier. 
 And he wrote off all the infamation he got to his newspaper. 
 
 " The Lord Maire, Lord Lansdowne, is Premier Ministre. 
 His Grace has his dwelling in the City. The Archbishop of 
 Cantabery is not turned Quaker, as some people stated. Qua- 
 kers may not marry, nor sit in the Chamber of Peers. The 
 minor bishops have seats in the House of Commons, where 
 they are attacked by the bitter pleasantries of Lord Brougham. 
 A boxer is in the House ; he taught Palmerston the science of 
 the pugilate, who conferred upon him the seat," &c, &c. 
 
 His writing hover, Jools came down and ad a gaym at pool 
 with two Poles, a Bulgian, and 2 of his own countrymen. This 
 being done amidst more hafanaf, without which nothink is done 
 in England,, and as there was no French play that night, he & 
 the two French gents walked round and round Lester Squarr 
 smoking segaws in the faces of other French gents who were 
 smoaking 2. And they talked about the granjer of France and 
 
66 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 the perfidgusness of England, and looked at the aluminated 
 pictur of Madame Wharton as Haryadney, till bedtime. But 
 befor he slep, he finished his letter you may be sure, and called 
 it his " Fust Imprestiuns of Anglyterre." 
 
 "Mind and wake me early," he said to Boots, the ony 
 Brittish subject in the " Hotel de l'Ail," and who therefore 
 didn't understand him. " I wish to be at Smithfield at 6 hours 
 to see the men sell their wives" And the young roag fell 
 asleep, thinking what sort of a one he'd buy. 
 
 This was the way Jools passed his days, and got infamation 
 about Hengland and the Henglish — walking round and round 
 Lester Squarr all day, and every day with the same company, 
 occasionally dewussified by an Oprer Chorus-singer or a Jew or 
 two, and every afternoon in the Quadrant admiring the genteal 
 sosiaty there. Munseer Jools was not over well funnisht with 
 pocket-money, and so his pleasure was of the gratis sort 
 cheafry. 
 
 Well, one day as he and a friend was taking their turn 
 among the aristoxy under the Quadrant— they were struck all 
 of a heap by seeing — But, stop ! who was Jools's friend ? Here 
 you have pictures of both — but the Istory of Jools's friend 
 must be kep for another innings. 
 
 II. 
 
 Not fur from that knowble and cheerfle Squear which Mun- 
 seer Jools de Chacabac had selacted for his eboad in London 
 — not fur, I say, from Lester Squarr, is a rainje of bildings 
 called Pipping's Buildings, leading to Blue Lion Court, leading 
 to St. Martin's Lane. You know Pipping's Buildings by its 
 greatest ornament, an am and beefouce (where Jools has often 
 stood admiring the degstaraty of the carver a-cuttin the varous 
 jints), and by the little fishmungur's, where you remark the 
 mouldy lobsters, the fly-blown picklesammon, the playbills, and 
 the gingybear bottles in the window— above all, by the " Con- 
 stantinople " Divan, kep by the Misses Mordeky, and well 
 known to every lover of " a prime sigaw and an exlent cup of 
 reel Moky CofTy for 6d." 
 
 The Constantinople Divann is greatly used by the foring 
 gents of Lester Squar. I never ad the good fortn to pass 
 down Pipping's Buildings without seeing a haf a duzen of 'em 
 on the threshole of the extablishment, giving the street an 
 
CRINOLINE. 
 
 67 
 
 oppertunity of testing the odar of the Misses Mordeky's prime 
 Avannas. Two or three mor may be visable inside, settn on 
 the counter or the chestis, indulging in their fav'rit whead, the 
 rich and spisy Pickwhick, the ripe Manilly, or the flagrant and 
 arheumatic Qby. 
 
 " These Divanns are, as is very well known, the knightly 
 resott of the young Henglish nobiliary. It is ear a young Pier, 
 after an arjus day at the House of Commons, solazes himself 
 with a glas of gin-and-water (the national beveridge), with 
 cheerful conversation on the ewents of the day, or with an arm- 
 less gaym of baggy tell in the back parlor." 
 
 So wrote at least our friend Jools to his newspaper, the 
 Horriflam ; and of this back parlor and baggytell-bord, of this 
 counter, of this " Constantinople " Divan, he became almost 
 as reglar a frequenter as the plaster of Parish Turk who sits 
 smoking a hookey between the two blue coffee-cups in the 
 winder. 
 
 I have oftin, smokin my own shroot in silents in a corner 
 of the Diwann, listened to Jools and his friends inwaying 
 aginst Hingland, and boastin of their own immortial country. 
 How they did go on about Wellintun, and what an arty con- 
 tamp they acl for him ! — how they used to prove that France 
 was the Light, the Scenter-pint, the Igsample and Hadmiration 
 of the whole world ! And though I scarcely take a French 
 paper nowadays (I lived in early days as groom in a French 
 famly three years, and therefore knows the languidg), though, 
 I say, you can't take up Jools's paper, the Qrriftatn, without 
 readin that a minister has committed bribery and perjury, or 
 that a littery man has committed perjury and murder, or that a 
 Duke has stabbed his wife in fifty places, or some story equally 
 horrible ; yet for all that it's admiral to see how the French 
 gents will swagger — how they will be the scenters of civiliza- 
 tion — how they will be the Igsamples of Europ, and nothink 
 shall prevent 'em — knowing they will have it, I say I listen, 
 smokin my pip in silence. But to our tail 
 
 Reglar every evening there came to the " Constantanople " 
 a young gent etired in the igth of fashn \ and indead present- 
 ing by the cleanlyness of his appearants and linning (which 
 was generally a pink or blew shurt, with a cricketer or a dan- 
 suse pattern) rather a contrast to the dinjy and wistkcard 
 sosiaty of the Diwann. As for wiskars, this young mann had 
 none beyond a little yallow tought to his chin, which you woodn 
 notas, only he was always pulling at it. His statue was dimin- 
 native, but his coschume supubb, for he had the tippiest Jane 
 
68 
 
 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 boots, the ivoryheadest canes, the most gawjus scarlick Jon- 
 ville ties, and the most Scotch-plaidest trowseys, of any cus- 
 tomer of that establishment. He was univusaly called Milord. 
 
 " Qui est ce jeune seigneur ? Who is this young hurl who 
 comes knightly to the " Constantanople," who is so proddigl of 
 his gold (for indeed the young gent would frequinly propoase 
 gininwater to the company), and who drinks so much gin ? " 
 asked Munseer Chacabac of a friend from the " Hotel de 
 I'Ail." 
 
 " His name is Lord Yardham," answered that friend. " He 
 never comes here but at night — and why ? " 
 " Y ? " igsclaimed Jools, istonisht. 
 
 " Why ? because he is engaygd all day — and do you know 
 where he is engaygd all day ? " 
 "W r here?" asked Jools. 
 
 " At the Foring Office — now do you beginn to under- 
 stand ? " — Jools trembled. 
 
 He speaks of his uncle, the head of that office. — " Who is 
 the head of that offis ? — Palmerston." 
 
 " The nephew of Palmerston ! " said Jools, almost in a fit. 
 
 "Lor Yardham pretends not to speak French," the other 
 went on. " He pretends he can only say wee and commong 
 porty voo. Shallow humbug ! — I have marked him during our 
 conversations, — When we have spoken of the glory of France 
 among the nations, I have seen his eye kindle, and his perfidi- 
 ous lip curl with rage. When they have discussed before him, 
 the Imprudents ! the affairs of Europe, and Raggybritchovich 
 has shown us the next Circassian Campaign, or Sapousne has 
 laid bare the plan of the Calabrian patriots for the next insur- 
 rection, I have marked this stranger — this Lor Yardham. He 
 smokes, 'tis to conceal his countenance ; he drinks gin, 'tis to 
 hide his face in the goblet. And be sure, he carries every 
 word of our conversation to the perfidious Palmerston, his 
 uncle." 
 
 " I will beard him in his den," thought Jools. <; I will meet 
 him corps-a-corps — the tyrant of Europe shall suffer through his 
 nephew, and I will shoot him as dead as Dujarrier." 
 
 When Lor Yardham came to the " Constantanople " that 
 night, Jools i'd him savidgely from edd to foot, while Lord 
 Yardham replied the same. It wasn't much for either to do — 
 neyther being more than 4 foot ten hi — Jools was a grannydear 
 in his company of the Nashnal Gard, and was as brayv as a 
 lion. 
 
 " Ah, PAngleterre, l'Angleterre, tu nous dois une revanche," 
 
CRINOLINE. 
 
 69 
 
 said Jools, crossing his arms and grinding his teeth at Lord 
 Yardham. 
 
 " Wee," said Lord Yardham ; "wee." 
 
 " Delenda est Carthago ! " howled out Jools. 
 
 " Oh, wee," said the Erl of Yardham, and at the same mo- 
 ment his glass of ginawater coming in, he took a drink, saying, 
 " A voter santy, Munseer : " and then he offered it like a man 
 of fashn to Joels. 
 
 A light broak on Jools's mind as he igsepted the refreshmint. 
 " Sapoase," he said, " instedd of slaughtering this nephew of 
 the infamous Palmerston, I extract his secrets from him ; sup- 
 pose I pump him — suppose I unveil his schemes and send them 
 to my paper? La France may hear the name of Jools de 
 Chacabac, and the star of honor may glitter on my bosom." 
 
 So, axepting Lord Yardham's cortasy, he returned it by 
 ordering another glass of gin at his own expence, and they both 
 drank it on the counter, where Jools talked of the affaers of 
 Europ all night. To everything he said, the Earl of Yardham 
 answered, " Wee, wee ; " except at the end of the evening, when 
 he squeeged his & and said, " Bong swore." 
 
 " There's nothing like goin amongst 'em to cquire the reel 
 pronounciation," his lordship said, as he let himself into his 
 lodgings with his latch-key. " That was a very eloquent young 
 gent at the \ Constantinople/ and I'll patronize him." 
 
 " Ah, perfide, je te demasquerai ! " Jools remarked to him- 
 self as he went to bed in his " Hotel de l'Ail." And they met 
 the next night, and from that heavning the young men were con- 
 tinyually together. 
 
 Well, one day, as they were walking in the Quadrant, Jools 
 talking, and Lord Yardham saying, " Wee, wee," they were 
 struck all of a heap by seeing — 
 
 But my paper is igshosted, and I must dixcribe what they 
 sor in the nex number. 
 
 III. 
 
 THE CASTLE OF THE ISLAND OF FOGO. 
 
 The travler who pesews his dalitefle coarse through the fair 
 rellum of Franse"(as a great romantic landskippist and neam- 
 sack of mind would say) never chaumed his i's with a site more 
 lovely, or vu'd a pallis more magnifnznt than that which was the 
 
7 o 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 butbplace of the Eroing of this Trew Tale. Phansy a country 
 through whose werdant planes the selvery Garonne wines, like 
 — like a benevvolent sarpent. In its plasid busum antient 
 cassles, picturask willidges, and waving woods are reflected. 
 Purple hills, crownd with inteak ruings ; rivvilets babbling 
 through gentle greenwoods ; wight farm ouses, hevvy with 
 hoverhanging vines, and from which the appy and peaseful 
 okupier can cast his glans over goolden waving cornfealds, and 
 M. Herald meddows in which the lazy cattle are graysinn ; while 
 the sheppard, tending his snoughy flox, wiles away the leisure 
 mominx on his loot — these hoffer but a phaint pictur of the 
 rurial felissaty in the midst of widge Crinoline and Hesteria de 
 Viddlers were bawn. 
 
 Their Par, the Marcus de Viddlers, Shavilear of the Legend 
 of Honor and the Lion of Bulgum, the Golden Flease, Grand 
 Cross of the Eflant and Castle, and of the Catinbagpipes of 
 Hostria, Grand Chamberleng of the Crownd, and Major-Gen- 
 aril of Hoss-Mareens, &c, &c, &c, — is the twenty-foth or fith 
 Marquis that has bawn the Tittle ; is disended lenyally from 
 King Pipping, and has almost as antient a paddygree as any 
 which the Ollywell Street frends of the Member of Buckinum- 
 sheer can supply. 
 
 His Marchyniss, the lovely & ecomplisht Emily de St. 
 Cornichon, quitted this mortial spear very soon after she had 
 presented her lord with the two little dawling Cherrybins above 
 dixcribed, in whomb, after the loss of that angle his wife, the 
 disconslit widderer found his only jy on huth. In all his emuse- 
 mints they ecumpanied him ; their edjacation was his sole bis- 
 niss ; he atcheaved it with the assistnce of the ugliest and 
 most lernid masters, and the most hidjus and egsimplary gov- 
 ernices which money could procure. R, how must his peturnle 
 art have bet, as these Budds, which he had nurrisht, bust into 
 buty, and twined in blooming flagrance round his pirentle Busm ! 
 
 The villidges all round his hancestral Alls blessed the 
 Marcus and his lovely hoffsprig. Not one villidge in their n.ay- 
 brood but was edawned by their elygint benifisns, and where 
 the inhabitnts wern't rendered appy. It was a pattern pheas- 
 antry. • All the old men in the districk were wertuous & tocka- 
 tive, and had red stockins and i-eeled drab shoes, and beautiful 
 snowy air. All the old women had peaked ats, and crooked 
 cains, and chince gowns tucked into the pockits of their quiltid 
 petticoats ; they sat in picterask porches, pretendin to spinn, 
 while the lads and lassis of the villidges clanst under the heliums. 
 O, tis a noble sight to whitniss that of an appy pheasantry ! 
 
CRINOLINE. 
 
 71 
 
 Not one of those rustic wassals of the Ouse of Widdlers, but ad 
 his air curled and his shirt-sleaves tied up with pink ribbing as 
 he led to the macy dance some appy country gal, with a black 
 velvit boddice and a redd or yaller petticoat, a hormylu cross 
 on her neck, and a silver harrow in her air ! 
 
 When the Marcus & ther young ladies came to the villidge 
 it would have done the i's of the flanthropist good to see how 
 all reseaved 'em ! The little children scattered calico flowers 
 on their path, the snowy-aired old men with, red faces and 
 rinkles took off their brown paper ats to slewt the noble Mar- 
 cus. Young and old led them to a woodn bank painted to look 
 like a bower of roses, and when they were sett down danst 
 ballys before them. O 'twas a noble site to see the Marcus too, 
 smilin ellygint with fethers in his edd and all his stars on, and 
 the young Marchynisses with their ploomes, and trains, and 
 little coronicks ! 
 
 They lived in tremenjus splendor at home in their pyturnle 
 alls, and had no end of pallises, willers, and town and country 
 resadences ; but their fayvorit resadence was called the Castle 
 of the Island of Fogo. 
 
 Add I the penn of the hawther of a Codlingsby himself, I 
 coodn't dixcribe the gawjusness of their aboad. They add 
 twenty-four footmen in livery, besides a boy in codroys for the 
 knives & shoes. They had nine meels aday — Shampayne and 
 pineapples were served to each of the young ladies in bed be- 
 fore they got up. Was it Prawns, Sherry-cobbler, lobster-salids, 
 or maids of honor, they had but to ring the bell and call for 
 what they chose. They had two new dresses every day— one 
 to ride out in the open carriage, and another to appear in the 
 gardens of the Castle of the Island of Fogo, which were illumi- 
 nated every night like Voxhall. The young noblemen of France 
 were there ready to dance with them, and festif suppers con- 
 cludid the jawyus night. 
 
 Thus they lived in ellygant ratirement until Missfortune bust 
 upon this happy fammaly. Etached to his Princes and abomma- 
 nating the ojus Lewyphlip, the Marcus was conspiring for the 
 benefick of the helder branch of the Borebones — and what was 
 the consquince ? — One night a fleat presented itself round the 
 Castle of the Island of Fogo — and skewering only a couple of 
 chests of jewils, the Marcus and the two young ladies in dis- 
 £yise, fled from that island of bliss. And whither fled they ? — 
 To England ! — England the ome of the brave, the refuge of the 
 world, where the pore slave never setts his foot but he is free ! 
 
 Such was the ramantic tail which was told to 2 friends of 
 
7 2 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 ours by the Marcus de Viddlers himself, whose daughters, 
 walking with their page from Ungerford Market (where they 
 had been to purchis a paper of srimps for the umble supper of 
 their noble father), Yardham and his equaintnce, Munseer Jools, 
 had remarked and admired. 
 
 But how had those two young Erows become equainted 
 with the noble Marcus ? — That is a mistry we must elucydate 
 in a futur vollam. 
 
THE STARS AND STRIPES. 
 
 By the Authors of " The Last of the Mulligans," " Pilot," etc. 
 
 s 
 
 I. 
 
 The King of France was walking on the terrace of Ver- 
 sailles ; the fairest, not only of Queens, but of women, hung 
 fondly on the Royal arm ; while the children of France were 
 indulging in their infantile hilarity in the alleys of the mag- 
 nificent garden of Le Notre (from which Niblo's garden has been 
 copied, in our own Empire city of New York), and playing at 
 leap-frog with their uncle, the Count of Provence ; gaudy cour- 
 tiers, emblazoned with orders, glittered in the groves, and 
 murmured frivolous talk in the ears of high-bred beauty. 
 
 " Maria, my beloved," said the ruler of France, taking out 
 his watch, " 'tis time that the Minister of America should be 
 here." 
 
 "Your Majesty should know the time," replied Maria An- 
 toinette, archly, and in an Austrian accent ; " is not my Royal 
 Louis the first watchmaker in his empire ? " 
 
 The King cast a pleased glance at his repeater, and kissed 
 with courtly grace the fair hand of her who had made him the 
 compliment. " My Lord Bishop of Autun," said he to Monsieur 
 de Talleyrand Perigord, who followed the royal pair, in his 
 quality of arch-chamberlain of the empire, " I pray you look 
 through the gardens, and tell his Excellency Doctor Franklin 
 that the King waits." The Bishop ran off, with more than 
 youthful agility, to seek the United States' Minister. " These 
 Republicans," he added, confidentially, and with something of 
 a supercilious look, " are but rude courtiers, methinks." 
 
 " Nay," interposed the lovely Antoinette, " rude courtiers, 
 Sire, they may be ; but the world boasts not of more accom- 
 plished gentlemen. I have seen no grandee of Versailles that 
 has the noble bearing of this American envoy and his suite. 
 
 (73) 
 
74 NO VELS B Y EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 They have the refinement of the Old World, with all the simple 
 elegance of the New. Though they have perfect dignity of 
 manner, they have an. engaging modesty which I have never 
 seen equalled by the best of the proud English nobles with 
 whom they wage war. I am told they speak their very language 
 with a grace which the haughty Islanders who oppress them 
 never attained. They are independent, yet never insolent ; 
 elegant, yet always respectful ; and brave, but not in the least 
 boastful." 
 
 " What ! savages and all, Marie ? " exclaimed Louis, laugh- 
 ing, and chucking the lovely Queen playfully under the roya] 
 chin. " But here comes Doctor Franklin, and your friend the 
 Cacique with him." In fact, as the monarch spoke, the Minis- 
 ter of the United States made his appearance, followed by a 
 gigantic warrior in the garb of his native woods. 
 
 Knowing his place as Minister of a sovereign state, (yield- 
 ing even then in dignity to none, as it surpasses all now in 
 dignity, in valor, in honesty, in strength, and civilization,) the 
 Doctor nodded to the Queen of France, but kept his hat on as 
 he faced the French monarch, and did not cease whittling the 
 cane he carried in his hand. 
 
 " I was waiting for you, sir," the King said, peevishly, in 
 spite of the alarmed pressure which the Queen gave his royal 
 arm. 
 
 " The business of the Republic, Sire, must take precedence 
 even of your Majesty's wishes," replied Dr. Franklin. " When 
 I was a poor printer's boy and ran errands, no lad could be 
 more punctual than poor Ben Franklin ; but all other things 
 must yield to the service of the United States of North America.. 
 I have done. What would you, Sire ? " and the intrepid re- 
 publican eyed the monarch with a serene and easy dignity, 
 which made the descendant of St. Louis feel ill at ease. 
 
 " I wished to — to say farewell to Tatua before his departure," 
 said Louis XVI., looking rather awkward. " Approach, Tatua." 
 And the gigantic Indian strode up, and stood undaunted before 
 the first magistrate of the French nation : again the 1 feeble 
 monarch quailed before the terrible simplicity of the glance of 
 the denizen of the primaeval forests. , 
 
 The redoubted chief of the Nose-ring Indians was decorated 
 in his war-paint, and in his top-knot was a peacock's feather, 
 which had been given him out of the head-dress of the beautiful 
 Princess of Lamballe. His nose, from which hung the orna- 
 ment from which his ferocious tribe took its designation, was 
 painted a light-blue, a circle of green and orange was drawn 
 
THE STARS AND STRIPES. 
 
 75 
 
 round each eye, while serpentine stripes of black, white, and 
 vermilion alternately were smeared on his forehead, and de- 
 scended over his cheek-bones to his chin. His manly chest was 
 similarly tattooed and painted, and round his brawny neck and 
 arms hung innumerable bracelets and necklaces of human teeth, 
 extracted (one only from each skull) from the jaws of those who 
 had fallen by the terrible tomahawk at his girdle. His moc- 
 casins, and his blanket, which was draped on his arm and fell 
 in picturesque folds to his feet, were fringed with tufts of hair 
 ■ — the black, the gray, the auburn, the golden ringlet of beauty, 
 the red lock from the forehead of the Scottish or the Northern 
 soldier, the snowy tress of extreme old age, the flaxen down of 
 infancy — all were there, dreadful reminiscences of the chief's 
 triumphs in war. The warrior leaned on his enormous rifle, 
 and faced the King. 
 
 " And it was with that carabine that you shot Wolfe in '57 ? " 
 said Louis, eyeing the warrior and his weapon. " 'Tis a clumsy 
 lock, and methinks I could mend it," he added mentally. 
 
 " The chief of the French pale-faces speaks truth," Tatua 
 said. " Tatua was a boy when he went first on the war-path 
 with Montcalm." 
 
 " And shot a Wolfe at the first fire ! " said the King. 
 
 " The English are braves, though their faces are white," re- 
 plied the Indian. " Tatua shot the raging Wolfe of the English • 
 but the other wolves caused the foxes to go to earth." A smile 
 played round Dr. Franklin's lips, as he whittled his cane with 
 more vigor than ever. 
 
 " I believe, your Excellency, Tatua has done good service 
 elsewhere than at Quebec," the King said, appealing to the 
 American Envoy : " at Bunker's Hill, at Branclywine, at York 
 Island ? Now that Lafayette and my brave Frenchmen are 
 among you, your Excellency need have no fear but that the war 
 will finish -quickly — yes, yes, it will finish quickly. They will 
 teach you discipline, and the way to conquer." 
 
 " King Louis of France," said the Envoy, clapping his hat 
 down over his head, and putting his arms a-kimbo, "we have 
 learned that from the British, to whom we are superior in every- 
 thing ; and I'd have your Majesty to know that in the art of 
 whipping the world we have no need of any French lessons. If 
 your reglars jine General Washington, 'tis to larn from him how 
 Britishers are licked ; for I'm blest if yu know the way yet." 
 
 Tatua said, "Ugh," and gave a rattle with the butt of his 
 carabine, which made the timid monarch start ; the eyes of the 
 lovely Antoinette flashed fire, but it played round the head of 
 
7 6 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 the dauntless American Envoy harmless as the lightning which 
 he knew how to conjure away. 
 
 The King fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out a Cross of 
 the Order of the Bath. " Your Excellency wears no honor/' 
 the monarch said ; " but Tatua, who is not a subject, only an 
 ally, of the United States, may. Noble Tatua, I appoint you 
 Knight Companion of my noble Order of the Bath. Wear this 
 cross upon your breast in memory of Louis of France ; " and 
 the King held out the decoration to the Chief. 
 
 Up to that moment the Chief's countenance had been impas- 
 sible. No look either of admiration or dislike had appeared 
 upon that grim and war-painted visage. But now, as Louis 
 spoke, Tatua's face assumed a glance of ineffable scorn, as, 
 bending his head, he took the bauble. 
 
 " I will give it to one of my squaws," he said. " The pa- 
 pooses in my lodge will play with it. Come, Medecine, Tatua 
 will go and drink fire-water;" and, shouldering his carabine, he 
 turned his broad back without ceremony upon the monarch and 
 his train, and disappeared down one of the walks of the garden. 
 Franklin found him when his own interview with the French 
 Chief Magistrate was over ; being attracted to the spot where 
 the Chief was, by the crack of his well-known rifle. He was 
 laughing in his quiet way. He had shot the Colonel of the 
 Swiss Guards through his cockade. 
 
 Three days afterwards, as the gallant frigate, the " Repu- 
 diator," was sailing out of Brest Harbor, the gigantic form of 
 an Indian might be seen standing on the binnacle in conversa- 
 tion with Commodore Bowie, the commander of the noble ship. 
 It was Tatua, the chief of the Nose-rings. 
 
 II. 
 
 Leatherlegs and Tom Coxswain did not accompany Tatua 
 when he went to the Parisian metropolis on a visit to the father 
 of the French pale-faces. Neither the legs nor the Sailor cared 
 for the gayety and the crowd of cities ; the stout mariner's home 
 was in the futtock-shrouds of the old " Repudiator." The stern 
 and simple trapper loved the sound of the waters better than the 
 jargon of the French of the old country. " I can follow the 
 talk of a Pawnee," he said, "or wag my jaw, if so be necessity 
 bids me to speak, by a Sioux's council-fire ; and I can patter 
 
THE STARS AND STRIPES, 
 
 77 
 
 Canadian French with the hunters who come for peltries to 
 Nachitoches or Thichimuchimachy ; but from the tongue of a 
 Frenchwoman, with white flour on her head, and war-paint on 
 her face, the Lord deliver poor Natty Pumpo." 
 
 " Amen and amen!" said Tom Coxswain. "There was a 
 woman in our aft-scuppers when I went a-whalin in the little 
 * Grampus' — and Lord love you, Pumpo, you poor land-swab, 
 she was as pretty a craft as ever dowsed a tarpauling — there was 
 a woman on board the ' Grampus/ who before we'd struck our 
 first fish, or biled our first blubber, set the whole crew in a mu- 
 tiny. I mind me of her now, Natty, — her eye was sich a pier- 
 cer that you could see to steer by it in a Newfoundland fog ; 
 her nose stood out like the 'Grampus's' jib-boom, and her woice, 
 Lord love you, her woice sing9 in my ears even now : — it set 
 the Captain a-quarrelin with the Mate, who was hanged in 
 Boston harbor for harpoonin of his officer in Baffin's Bay ; — it 
 set me and Bob Bunting a-pouring broadsides into each other's 
 old timbers, whereas me and Bob was worth all the women that 
 ever shipped a hawser. It cost me three years' pay as I'd 
 stowed away for the old mother, and might have cost me ever 
 so much more, only bad luck to me, she went and married a 
 little tailor out of Nantucket \ and I've hated women and tailors 
 ever since ! " As he spoke, the 'hardy tar dashed a drop of 
 brine from his tawny cheek, and once more betook himself to 
 splice the taffrail. 
 
 Though the brave frigate lay off Havre de Grace, she was 
 not idle. The gallant Bowie and his intrepid crew made re- 
 peated descents upon the enemy's seaboard. The coasts of 
 Rutland and merry Leicestershire have still many a legend of 
 fear to tell ; and the children of the British fishermen tremble 
 even now when they speak of the terrible " Repudiator." She 
 was the first of the mighty American war-ships that have taught 
 the domineering Briton to respect the valor of the Republic. 
 
 The novelist ever and anon finds himself forced to adopt 
 the sterner tone of the historian, when describing deeds con- 
 nected with his country's triumphs. It is well known that 
 during the two months in which she lay off Havre, the " Re- 
 pudiator" had brought more prizes into that port than had 
 ever before been seen in the astonished French waters. Her ac- 
 tions with the " Dettingen " and the " Elector " frigates form 
 part of our country's history ; their defence — it may be said 
 without prejudice to national vanity — was worthy of Britons 
 and of the audacious foe they had to encounter ; and it must be 
 owned, that but for a happy fortune which presided on that 
 
7 8 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 day over the destinies of our country, the chance of the combat 
 might have been in favor of the British vessels. It was not 
 until the if Elector " blew up, at a quarter past three p. m., by a 
 lucky shot which fell into her caboose, and communicated with 
 the powder-magazine, that Commodore Bowie was enabled to 
 lay himself on board the " Dettingen,"" which he carried sword 
 in hand. Even when the American boarders had made their 
 lodgment on the " Dettingen's " binnacle, it is possible that 
 the battle would still have gone against us. The British were 
 still seven to one : their carronades, loaded with marline-spikes, 
 swept the gun-deck, of which we had possession, and decimated 
 our little force ; when a rifle-ball from the shrouds of the 
 " Repudiator " shot Captain Mumford under the star of the 
 Guelphic Order which he wore, and the Americans, with a 
 shout, rushed up the companion to the quarter-deck, upon 
 the astonished foe. Pike and cutlass did the rest of the 
 bloody work. Rumford, the gigantic first-lieutenant of the 
 " Dettingen," was cut down by Commodore Bowie's own sword„ 
 as they engaged hand to hand ; and it was Tom Coxswain who 
 tore down the British flag, after having slain the Englishman 
 at the wheel. Peace be to the souls of the brave ! The com- 
 bat was honorable alike to the victor and the vanquished : and 
 it never can be said that an American warrior depreciated a 
 gallant foe. The bitterness of defeat was enough to the 
 haughty islanders who had to suffer. The people of Heme 
 Bay were lining the shore, near which the combat took place, 
 and cruel must have been the pang to them when they saw the 
 Stars and Stripes rise over the old flag of the Union, and the 
 " Dettingen" fall down the river in tow of the Republican 
 frigate. 
 
 Another action Bowie contemplated ; the boldest and most 
 daring perhaps ever imagined by seaman. It is this which has 
 been so wrongly described by European annalists, and of 
 which the British until now have maintained the most jealous 
 secrecy. 
 
 Portsmouth Harbor was badly defended. Our intelligence 
 in that town and arsenal gave us precise knowledge of the dis- 
 position of the troops, the forts, and the ships there ; and it 
 was determined to strike a blow which should shake the Brit-- 
 ish power in its centre. 
 
 That a frigate of the size of the " Repudiator " should 
 enter the harbor unnoticed, or could escape its guns unscathed, 
 passed the notions of even American temerity. But upon the 
 memorable 26th of June, 1782, the " Repudiator " sailed out of 
 
THE STARS AND STRIPES. 
 
 7? 
 
 Havre Roads in a thick fog, under eover of which she entered 
 and cast anchor in Bonchurch Bay, in the Isle of Wight. To 
 surprise the Martello Tower and take the feeble garrison 
 thereunder, was the work of Tom Coxswain and a few of his 
 blue-jackets. The surprised garrison laid down their arms 
 before him. 
 
 It was midnight before the boats of the ship, commanded 
 by Lieutenant Bunker, pulled off from Bonchurch with muffled 
 oars, and in another hour were off the Common Hard of Ports- 
 mouth, having passed the challenges of the "Thetis," the 
 " Amphion " frigates, and the " Polyanthus " brig. 
 
 There had been on that day great feasting and merri- 
 ment on board the Flag-ship lying in the harbor. A banquet 
 had been given in honor of the birthday of one of the princes 
 of the royal line of the Guelphs — the reader knows the pro- 
 pensity of Britons when liquor is in plenty. All on board that 
 royal ship were more or less overcome. The Flag-ship was 
 plunged in a death-like and drunken sleep. The very officer 
 of the watch was intoxicated : he could not see the " Repudia- 
 tor's " boats as they shot swiftly through the waters ; nor had 
 he time to challenge her seamen as they swarmed up the huge 
 sides of the ship. 
 
 At the next moment Tom Coxswain stood at the wheel of 
 the " Royal George " — the Briton who had guarded, a corpse 
 at his feet. The hatches were down.. The ship was in posses- 
 sion of the " Repudiator's " crew. They were busy in her rig- 
 ging, bending her sails to carry her out of the harbor. The 
 well-known heave of the men at the windlass, woke up Kem- 
 penfelt in his state cabin. We know, or rather do not know, 
 the result ; for who can tell by whom the lower-deck ports of 
 the brave ship were opened, and how the haughty prisoners 
 below sunk the ship and its conquerors rather than yield her 
 as a prize to the Republic ? 
 
 Only Tom Coxswain escaped of victors and vanquished. 
 His tale was told to the Captain and to the Congress, but 
 Washington forbade its publication ; and it was but lately that 
 the faithful seaman told it to me, his grandson, on his hundred- 
 and-fifteenth birthday. 
 
• A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL. 
 
 In a Letter from the eminent Dramatist Brown to the eminent Novelist 
 
 Snooks. 
 
 " Cafe dess Aveugles. 
 
 " My dear Snooks, 
 
 " I am on the look-out here for materials for original com- 
 edies such as those lately produced at your theatre ; and, in the 
 course of my studies, I have found something, my dear Snooks, 
 which I think will suit your book. You are bringing, I see, 
 your admirable novel, 6 The Mysteries of May Fair/ to an end — 
 (by the way, the scene, in the 200th number, between the Duke, 
 his Grandmother, and the Jesuit Butler, is one of the most 
 harrowing and exciting I ever read) — and, of course, you must 
 turn your real genius to some other channel; and we may 
 expect that your pen shall not be idle. 
 
 " The original plan I have to propose to you, then, is taken 
 from the French, just like the original dramas above mentioned ; 
 and, indeed, I found it in the law report of the National news- 
 paper, and a French literary gentleman, M. Emanuel Gon- 
 zales, has the credit of the invention. He and an advertisement 
 agent fell out about a question of money, the affair was brought 
 before the courts, and the little plot so got wind. But there is 
 no reason why you should not take the plot and act on it your- 
 self. You are a known' man ; the public relishes your works ; 
 anything bearing the name of Snooks is eagerly read by the 
 masses; and though Messrs. Hookey, of Holywell Street, pay 
 you handsomely, I make no doubt you would like to be re- 
 warded at a still higher figure. 
 
 " Unless he writes with a purpose, you know, a novelist in 
 our days is good for nothing. This one writes with a socialist 
 purpose ; that with a conservative purpose : this author or 
 authoress with the most delicate skill insinuates Catholicism 
 into you, and you find yourself all but a Papist in the third 
 
A PLAN FOR A PRIZE NOVEL. 
 
 81 
 
 volume : another doctors you with Low Church remedies to 
 work inwardly upon you, and which you swallow down unsus-. 
 piciously, as children do calomel in jelly. Fiction advocates 
 all sorts of truth and causes — don't the delightful bard of the 
 Minories find Moses in everything ? M. Gonzales's plan, and 
 the one which I recommend to my dear Snooks, simply was to 
 write an advertisement novel. Look over The Times or the 
 ' Directory,' walk down Regent Street or Fleet Street any 
 day — see what houses advertise most, and put yourself into 
 communication with their proprietors. With your rings, your 
 chains, your studs, and the tip on your chin, I don't know any 
 greater swell than Bob Snooks. Walk into the shops, I say, 
 ask for the principal, and introduce yourself, saying, ' I am the 
 great Snooks ; I am the author of the " Mysteries of May 
 Fair ;" my weekly sale is 281,000 ; I am about to produce a 
 new work called " The Palaces of Pimlico, or the Curse of the 
 Court," describing and lashing fearlessly the vices of the aris- 
 tocracy : this book will, have a sale of at least 530,000 ; it will 
 be on every table — in the boudoir of the pampered duke, as in 
 the chamber of the honest artisan. The myriads of foreigners 
 who are coming to London, and are anxious to know about our 
 national manners, will purchase my book, and carry it to their 
 distant homes. So, Mr. Taylor, or Mr. Haberdasher, or Mr. 
 Jeweller, how much will you stand if I recommend you in my 
 forthcoming novel ? ' You may make a noble income in this 
 way, Snooks. 
 
 " For instance, suppose it is an upholsterer. What mor& 
 easy, what more delightful, than the description of upholstery ? 
 As thus : — . 
 
 " 'Lady Emily was reclining on one of Down and Eider's 
 voluptuous ottomans, the only couch on which Belgravian 
 beauty now reposes, when Lord Bathershins entered, stepping 
 noiselessly over one of Tomkins's elastic Axminster carpets. 
 " Good heavens, my lord ! " she said — and the lovely creature 
 fainted. The Earl rushed to the mantel-piece, where he saw a 
 flacon of Otto's eau-de-Cologne, and,' &c. 
 
 " Or say it's a cheap furniture-shop, and it may be brought 
 in just as easy. As thus : — s 
 
 "'We are poor, Eliza," said Harry Hardhand, looking 
 affectionately at his wife, * but we have enough, love, have we 
 not, for our humble wants ? The rich and luxurious may go to 
 Dillow's or Gobiggin's, but we can get our rooms comfortably 
 furnished at Timmonson's for 20/.' And putting on her bon- 
 net, and hanging affectionately on her husband, the stoker's 
 
82 
 
 NOVELS BY EMINENT HANDS. 
 
 pretty bride tripped gayly to the well-known mart, where Tim- 
 monson, with his usual affability, was ready to receive them. 
 
 " Then you might have a touch at the wine-merchant and 
 purveyor. ' Where did you get this delicious claret, or pate de 
 foi gras, or what you please? ' said Count Blagowski to the gay 
 young Sir Horace Swellmore. The voluptuous Bart answered, 
 ' At So-and-so's, or So-and-So's.' The answer is obvious. You 
 may furnish your cellar or your larder in this way. Begad, 
 Snooks ! I lick my lips at the very idea ? 
 
 " Then as to tailors, milliners, bootmakers, &c, how easy 
 to get a word for them ! Amramson, the tailor, waited upon 
 Lord Paddington with an assortment of his unrivalled waist- 
 coats, or clad in that simple but aristocratic style of which 
 Schneider alone has the secret. Parvy Newcome really looked 
 like a gentleman, and though corpulent and crooked, Schnei- 
 der had managed to give him, &c. Don't you see what a stroke 
 of business you might do in this way. 
 
 " The shoemaker. — Lady Fanny flew, rather than danced, 
 across the ball-room ; only a Sylphide, or Taglioni, or a lady 
 chausseed by Chevillett of Bond Street, could move in that fairy 
 way ; and 
 
 " The hairdresser. — 1 Count Barbarossa is seventy years of 
 age,' said the Earl. *'I remember him at the Congress of 
 Vienna, and he has not a single gray hair.' Wiggins laughed. 
 ' My good Lord Baldock,' said the old wag, i I saw Barbarossa's 
 hair coming out of Ducroissant's shop, and under his valet's 
 arm — ho ! ho ! ho ! ' — and the two bon-vivans chuckled as the 
 Count passed by, talking with, &c. &c. 
 
 " The gunmaker. — ' The antagonists faced each other ; and 
 undismayed before his gigantic enemy, Kilconnel raised his 
 pistol. It was one of Clicker's manufacture, and Sir Marma- 
 duke knew he could trust the maker and the weapon. " One, 
 two, three,'" cried O'Tool, and the two pistols went off at that 
 instant, and uttering a terrific curse, the Lifeguardsman,' &c. — 
 A sentence of this nature from your pen, my dear Snooks, would, 
 1 should think, bring a case of pistols and a double-barrelled 
 gun to your lodgings ; and, though heaven forbid you should 
 use such weapons, you might sell them, you know, and we 
 could make merry with the proceeds. 
 
 " If my hint is of any use to you, it is quite at your service, 
 dear Snooks ; and should anything come of it, I hope you will 
 remember your friend." 
 
THE DIARY 
 
 OF 
 
 JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ. 
 
THE DIARY 
 
 C. -JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ. 
 
 A LUCKY SPECULATOR. 
 
 11 Considerable sensation has been excited in the upper and lower circles in the 
 West End, by a startling piece of good fortune which has befallen James Plush, Esq., 
 lately footman in a respected family in Berkeley Square. 
 
 u One day last week, Mr. James waited upon his master, who is a banker in the 
 City ; and after a little blushing and hesitation, said he had saved a little money in 
 service, was anxious to retire, and to invest his savings to advantage. 
 
 " His master (we believe we may mention, without offending delicacy, the well- 
 known name of Sir George Flimsy, of the house of Flimsy, Diddler, and Flash,) 
 smilingly asked Mr. James what was the amount of his savings, wondering considera- 
 bly how, out of an income of thirty guineas — the main part of which he spent in 
 bouquets, silk stockings, and perfumery — Mr. Plush could have managed to lay by 
 anything. 
 
 " Mr. Plush, with some hesitation, said he had been speculating in railroads, and 
 stated his winnings to have been thirty thousand pounds. He had commenced his 
 speculations with twenty, borrowed from a fellow-servant. He had dated his letters 
 from the house in Berkeley Square, and humbly begged pardon of his master for not 
 having instructed the railway Secretaries who answered his applications to apply at 
 the area-bell. 
 
 " Sir George, who was at breakfast, instantly rose, and shook Mr. P. by the hand ; 
 Lady Flimsy begged him to be seated, and partake of the breakfast which he had 
 laid on the table ; and has subsequently invited him to her grand dejeuner at Rich- 
 mond, where it was observed that Miss Emily Flimsy, her beautiful and accomplished 
 seventh daughter, paid the lucky gentleman marked attention. 
 
 "We hear it stated that Mr. P. is of a very ancient family (Hugo de la Pluche 
 came over with the Conqueror) ; and the new brougham which he has started bears 
 the ancient coat of his race. 
 
 " He has taken apartments in the Albany, and is a director of thirty-three railroads. 
 He proposes to stand for parliament at the next general * election on decidedly con- 
 servative principles, which have always been the politics of his family. 
 
 M Report says, that even in his humble capacity Miss Emily Flimsy had remarked 
 his high demeanor. Well, f None but the brave/ say we, \ deserve the fair.' '' — Morn- 
 ing Paper. 
 
 This announcement will explain the following lines, which 
 have been put into our box # with a West End post-mark. If, 
 
 * The letter-box of Mr. Punch, in whose columns these papers were first published. 
 
 (85) 
 
86 
 
 THE DIARY OP 
 
 as we believe, they are written by the young woman from whom 
 the millionaire borrowed the sum on which he raised his for- 
 tune, what heart will not melt with sympathy at her tale, and 
 pity the sorrows which she expresses in such artless language ? 
 
 If it be not too late ; if wealth have not rendered its pos- 
 sessor callous; if poor Maryanne be still alive; we trust, we 
 trust Mr. Plush will do her justice. 
 
 "JEAMES OF BUCKLEY SQUARE. 
 "a heligy. 
 
 " Come all ye gents vot cleans the plate, 
 
 Come all ye ladies' maids so fair — 
 Vile I a story vil relate 
 
 Of cruel Jeames of Buckley Square. 
 A tighter lad, it is confest, 
 
 Neer valked with powder in his air, 
 Or vore a nosegay in his breast, 
 
 Than andsum Jeames of Buckley Square. 
 
 " O Evns ! it vas the best Of sights, 
 
 Behind his Master's coach and pair, 
 To see our Jeames in red plush tights, 
 
 A driving hoff from Buckley Square. 
 He vel became his hagwilletts, 
 
 He cocked his at with such a hair ; 
 His calves and viskers vas such pets, 
 
 That hall loved Jeames of Buckley Square. 
 
 " He pleased the hup-stairs folks as veil, 
 
 And o ! I vithered vith despair, 
 Missis vould ring the parler bell, 
 
 And call up Jeames in Buckley Square. 
 Both beer and sperrits he abhord 
 
 (Sperrits and beer I can't a bear), 
 You would have thought he vas a lord 
 
 Down in our All in Buckley Square. 
 
 " Last year he visper'd, 1 Mary Ann, 
 
 Ven I've an under' d pound to spare, 
 To take a public is my plan, 
 
 And leave this hojous Buckley Square. 
 O how my gentle heart did bound, 
 
 To think that I his name should bear. 
 * Dear Jeames,' says I, 1 I've twenty pound/ 
 
 And gev them him at Buckley Square. 
 
 " Our Master vas a City gent, 
 
 His name's in railroads everywhere, 
 And lord, vot lots of letters vent 
 
 Betwigst his brokers and Buckley Square ! 
 My Jeames it was the letters took, 
 
 And read them all, (I think it's fair,) 
 And took a leaf from Master's book, 
 
 As hothers do in Buckley Square. 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 87 
 
 " Encouraged with my twenty pound 
 
 Of which poor / was unavare, 
 He wrote the Companies all round, 
 
 And signed hisself from Buckley Square. 
 And how John Porter used to grin, 
 
 As day by day, share after share, 
 Came railvay letters pouring in, 
 
 1 J. Plush, Esquire, in Buckley Square.' 
 
 " Our servants' All was in a rage — 
 
 Scrip, stock, curves, gradients, bull and bear, 
 Vith butles, coachman, groom and page, 
 
 Vas all the talk in Buckley Square. 
 But O ! imagine vot I felt 
 
 Last Vensday veek as ever were ; 
 I gits a letter, which I spelt 
 
 1 Miss M. A. Hoggins, Buckley Square/ 
 
 " He sent me back my money true — : 
 
 He sent me back my lock of air, 
 And said, i My dear, I bid ajew 
 
 To Mary Hann and Buckley Square. 
 Think not to marry, foolish Hann, 
 
 With people who your betters are ; 
 James Plush is now a gentleman, 
 
 And you — a cook in Buckley Square. 
 
 " ' Pve thirty thousand guineas won, 
 
 In six short months, by genus rare ; 
 You little thought what Jeames was on, 
 
 Poor Mary Hann, in Buckley Square. 
 I've thirty thousand guineas net, 
 
 Powder and plush I scorn to vear ; 
 And so, Miss Mary Hann, forget 
 
 For never Jeames, of Buckley Square.' " 
 
 4(F *¥f 
 
 The rest of the MS. is illegible, being literally washed 
 away in a flood of tears. 
 
 A LETTER FROM " JEAMES, OF BUCKLEY SQUARE." 
 
 " Albany, Letter X. August 10, 1845. 
 "Sir, — Has a reglar suscriber to your emusing paper, I beg 
 leaf to state that I should never have done so, had I sup- 
 posed that it was your abbit to igspose the mistaries of privit 
 life, and to hinjer the delligit feelings of umble individyouals 
 like myself, who have no ideer of being made the subject of 
 newspaper criticism. 
 
 " I elude, sir, to the unjustafiable use which has been made 
 of my name in your Journal, where both my muccantile spec- 
 lations and the hinmost pashsn of my art have been brot for- 
 rards in a ridicklus way for the public emusemint. 
 
 " What call, sir, has the public to inquire into the suckm- 
 
88 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 stansies of my engagements with Miss Mary Hann Oggins, 01 
 to meddle with their rupsher ? Why am I to be maid the 
 hobjick of your redicide in a doggril ballit impewted to, her ? I 
 say impewted, because, in my time at least, Mary Hann could 
 only sign her -f- mark (has I've hoften witnist it for her when 
 she paid hin at the Savings bank), and has for sacrificing to 
 the Mewses and making poatry, she was as hincapible as Mr, 
 Wakley himself. 
 
 " With respect to the ballit, my baleaf is, that it is wrote 
 by a footman in a low famly, a pore retch who attempted to 
 rivle me in my affections to Mary Hann — a feller not five foot 
 six, and with no more calves to his legs than a donkey — who 
 was always a-ritin (having been a doctor's boy) and who I 
 nockt down with a pint of porter (as he well recklex) at the 3 
 Tuns Jerming Street, for daring to try to make a but of me. 
 He has signed Miss H's name to his nonsince and lies : and 
 you lay yourself hopen to a haction for lible for insutting them 
 in your paper. 
 
 " It is false that I have treated Miss H. hill in hany way. 
 That I borrowed 2olb of her is trew. But she confesses I paid 
 it back. Can hall people say as much of the money they've lent 
 or borrowed ? No. And I not only paid it back, but giv her 
 the andsomest pres'nts : which I never should have eluded to, but 
 for this attack. Fust, a silver thimble (which I found in 
 Missus's work-box) ; secknd, a vollom of Byrom's poems ; third, 
 I halways brought her a glas of Curasore, when we ad a party, 
 of which she was remarkable fond. I treated her to Hashley's 
 twice (and halways a srimp or a hoyster by the way), and a 
 thowsnd deligit attentions, which I sapose count for nothink. 
 
 " Has for marridge. Haltered suckmstancies rendered it 
 himpossable. I was gone into a new spear of life — mingling 
 with my native aristoxy. I breathe no sallible of blame against 
 Miss H., but his a hilliterit cookmaid fit to set at a fashnable 
 table ? Do young fellers of rank genrally marry out of the 
 Kitching ? If we cast our i's upon a low-born gal, I needn say 
 it's only a tempory distraction, pore passy le tong. So much for 
 her claims upon me. Has for that beest of a Doctor's boy he's 
 unwuthy the notas of a Gentleman. 
 
 " That I've one thirty thousand lb, and praps more, I dont 
 deny. Ow much has the Kilossus of Railroads one, I should 
 like to know, and what was his cappitle ? I hentered the 
 market with 201b, specklated Jewdicious, and ham what I ham. 
 So may you be if you have 2olb, and praps you haven't) — So 
 may you be : if you choose to go in & win. 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 8 9 
 
 "I for my part am jusly prowd of my suxess, and could give 
 you a hundred instances of my gratatude. For igsample, the 
 fust pair of hosses I bought (and a better pair of steppers I 
 dafy you to see in hany curracle), I crisn'd Hull and Selby, in 
 grateful elusion to my transackshns in that railroad. My riding 
 Cob I called very unhaptly my Dublin and Galway. He came 
 down with me the other day, and I've jest sold him at dis- 
 count. 
 
 "At fust with prudence and modration I only kep two 
 grooms for my stables, one of whom lickwise waited on me at 
 table. I have now a confidenshle servant, a vally de shamber 
 — He curls my air ; inspex my accounts, and hansers my 
 hinvitations to dinner. I call this vally my Trent Valley, for it 
 was the prophit I got from that exlent line, which injuiced me 
 to ingage him. 
 
 "Besides my North British Plate and breakfast equipidge 
 — I have two handsom suvvices for dinner — the goold plate for 
 Sundays, and the silver for common use. When I ave a great 
 party, 4 Trent,' I say to my man, 4 we will have the London and 
 Bummingham plate to-day (the goold), or else the Manchester 
 and Leeds (the silver).' I bought them after realizing on the 
 abuf- lines, and if people suppose that the companys made me 
 a presnt of the plate, how can I help it ? 
 
 " In the sam way I say, 4 Trent, bring us a bottle of Bristol 
 and Hexeter ! ' or, 4 Put some Heastern Counties »in hice ! ' He 
 knows what I mean : it's the wines I bought upon the hospi- 
 cious tummination of my connexshn with those two railroads. 
 
 " So strong, indeed, as this abbit become, that being asked 
 to stand Godfather to the youngest Miss Diddle last weak, I 
 had her christened (provisionally) Rosamell — from the French 
 line of which I am Director ; and only the other day, finding 
 myself rayther unwell, 4 Doctor,' says I to Sir Jeames Clark, 
 4 I've sent to consult you because my Midlands are out of border ; 
 and I want you to send them up to a premium.' The Doctor 
 lafd, and I beleave told the story subsquintly at Buckinum 
 P-ll-s. 
 
 44 But I will trouble you no father. My sole objict in writ- 
 ing has been to clear my carrater — to show that I came by my 
 money in a honrable way : that I'm not ashaymd of the manner 
 in which I gayned it, and ham indeed grateful for my good 
 fortune. 
 
 44 To conclude, I have ad my podigree maid out at the 
 Erald Hoffis (I don't mean the Mor?iing Erald), and have took 
 for my arms a Stagg. You are corrict in stating that I am of 
 
oo THE DIARY OF 
 
 hancient Normin famly. This is more than Peal can say, to 
 whomb I applied for a barnetcy * but the primmier being of low 
 igstraction, natrally stickles for his horder. Consurvative 
 though I he* I may change my opinions before the next Election, 
 when I intend to hoffer myself as a Candydick for Parlymint. 
 " Meanwhile, I have the honor to be, Sir, 
 " Your most obeajnt Survnt, 
 
 " Fitz-James de la Pluche." 
 
 i 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PL U CHE. 91 
 
 THE DIARY. 
 
 One day in the panic week, our friend Jeames called at 
 our office, evidently in great perturbation of mind and disorder 
 of dress. He had no flower in his button-hole ; his yellow kid 
 gloves were certainly two days old. He had not above three 
 of the ten chains he usually sports, and his great coarse knotty- 
 knuckled old hands were deprived of some dozen of the rubies, 
 emeralds, and other cameos with which, since his elevation to 
 fortune, the poor fellow has thought fit to adorn himself. 
 
 " How's scrip, Mr. Jeames ? " said we pleasantly, greeting 
 our esteemed contributor. 
 
 " Scrip be ," replied he, with an expression we cannot 
 
 repeat, and a look of agony it is impossible to describe in print, 
 and walked about the parlor whistling, humming, rattling his 
 keys and coppers, and showing other signs of agitation. At 
 last, "Mr. Punch," says he, after a moment's hesitation, "I 
 wish to speak to you on a pint of businiss, I wish to b*e paid 
 for my contribewtions to your paper. Suckmstances is altered 
 with me. I — I — in a word, can you lend me — /. for the ac- 
 count ? " 
 
 He named the sum. It was one so great that we don't care 
 to mention it here ; but on receiving a check for the amount (on 
 Messrs. Pump and Aldgate, our bankers), tears came into the 
 honest fellow's eyes. He squeezed our hand until he nearly 
 wrung it off, and shouting to a cab, he plunged into it at our 
 office-door, and was off to the City. 
 
 Returning to our study, we found he had left on our table 
 an open pocket-book, of the . contents of which (for the sake of 
 safety) we took an inventory. It contained — three tavern-bills, 
 paid ; a tailor's ditto, unsettled ; forty-nine allotments in differ- 
 ent companies, twenty-six thousand seven hundred shares in 
 all, of which the market value we take, on average, to be dis- 
 count ; and in an old bit of paper tied with pink ribbon a lock 
 of chestnut hair, with the initials M, A, H, 
 
 In the diary of the pocket-book was a journal, jotted down 
 by the proprietor from time to time. At first the entries are in- 
 
9 2 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 significant : as, for instance : — ".3d January — Our beer in the 
 Suvnts' Hall so precious small at this Christmas time that I 
 reely muss give warning, & wood, but for my dear Mary Hann." 
 " February 7 — That broot Screw, the Butler, wanted to kis her, 
 but my dear Mary Hann boxt his hold hears, & served him 
 right. I dates t Screw,'' — and so forth. Then the diary relates 
 to Stock Exchange operations, until we come to the time when, 
 having achieved his successes, Mr. James quitted Berkeley Square 
 and his livery, and began his life as a speculator and a gentle- 
 man upon town. It is from the latter part of his diary that 
 we make the following 
 
 EXTRAX :— 
 
 " Wen I anounced in the Servnts All my axeshn of forting, 
 and that by the exasize of my own talince and ingianiuty I had 
 reerlized a summ of 20,000 lb. (it was only 5, but what's the 
 use of a mann depreshiating the qualaty of his own mackyrel ?) 
 — wen I enounced my abrup intention to cut — you should have 
 sean the sensation among hall the people ! Cook wanted to 
 know whether I woodn like a sweatbred, or the slise of the 
 breast of a Cold Tucky. Screw, the butler (womb I always 
 detested as a hinsalant hoverbaring beest), begged me to walk 
 into the Hupper Servnts All, and try a glass of Shuperior 
 Shatto*Margo. Heven Visp, the coachmin, eld out his and, & 
 said, ' Jeames, I hopes theres no quarraling betwigst you & 
 me, & I'll stand a pot of beer with pleasure.' 
 
 " The sickofnts ! — that wery Cook had split on me to the 
 Housekeeper ony last week (catchin me priggin some cold 
 tuttle soop, of which I'm remarkable fond). Has for the butler, 
 I always ebommmated him for his precious snears and imper- 
 ence to all us Gents who woar livry (he never would sit in our 
 parlor, fasooth, nor drink out of our mugs) ; and in regard of 
 Visp — why, it was ony the day before the wulgar beest hofTered 
 to fite me, and thretnd to give me a good iding if I refused. 
 1 Gentlemen and ladies,' says I, as haughty as may be, ' there's 
 nothink that I want for that I can't go for to buy with my hown 
 money, and take at my lodgins in Halbany, letter Hex : if I'm 
 ' ungry I've no need to refresh myself in the kitching' And so 
 saying, I took a dignified ajew of these minnial domestics ; and 
 ascending to my epartment in the 4 pair back, brushed the 
 powder out of my air, and taking off those hojous livries for 
 hever, put on a new soot, made for me by Cullin of St. Jeames 
 Street, and which fitted my manly figger as tight as whacks. 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA P LUC HE, 
 
 93 
 
 " There was one pusson in the house with womb I was 
 rayther anxious to evoid a persnal leave-taking — Mary Hann 
 Oggins, I mean — for my art is natural tender, and I can't 
 abide seeing a pore gal in pane. I'd given her previous the 
 infamation of my departure — doing the ansom thing by her at 
 the same time — paying her back 20 lb., which she'd lent me 
 6 months before : and paying her back not only the interest, 
 but I gave her an andsome pair of scissars and a silver thimbil v 
 by way of boanus. ' Mary Hann,' says I, suckimstancies haa 
 altered our rellatif positions in life. I quit the Servnts Hall 
 forever, (for has for your marrying a person in my rank, that, my 
 dear, is hall gammin,) and so I wish you a good-by, my good 
 gal, and if you want to better yourself, halways refer to me.' 
 
 " Mary Hann didn't hanser my speech (which I think was 
 
 remarkable kind), but looked at me in the face quite wild like, 
 
 and bust into somethink betwigst a laugh & a cry, and fell 
 
 down with her ed on the kitching dresser, where she lay until 
 
 her young Missis rang the dressing-room bell. Would you 
 
 bleave it ? She left the thimbil & things, & my check for 2olb. 
 
 1 os., on the tabil when she went to hanser the bell. And now 
 
 I heard her sobbing and vimpering in her own room nex but 
 
 one to mine, vith the dore open, peraps expecting I should 
 
 come in and say good-by. But, as soon as I was dressed, I cut 
 
 down stairs, hony desiring Frederick, my fellow-servnt, to 
 
 fetch me a cabb, and requesting permission to take leaf of my 
 
 lady & the famly before my departure." 
 
 # # # m 
 
 " How Miss Hemly did hogle me to be sure ! Her ladyship 
 told me what a sweet gal she was — hamiable, fond of poetry, 
 plays the gitter. Then she hasked me if I liked blond bewties 
 and haubin hair. Haubin, indeed ! I don't like carrits ! as it 
 must be confest Miss Hemly's his — and has for a blond buty y 
 she has pink I's like a Halbino, and her face looks as if it were 
 dipt in a brann mash. How she squeeged my & as she went 
 awav ! 
 
 " Mary Hann now has haubin air, and a cumplexion like 
 roses and hivory, and Ts as blew as Evin. 
 
 " I gev Frederick two and six for fetchin the cabb — been 
 resolved to hact the gentleman in hall things. How he stared ! " 
 
 " 25///. — I am now director of forty-seven hadvantageous 
 lines, and have past hall day in the Citty. Although I've hate 
 or nine new soots of close, and Mr. Cullin fits me heligant, yet 
 I fansy they hall reckonize me. Conshns whispers to me, 
 ' Jeams, you'r hony a footman in disguise hafter all.' " 
 
94 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 " 2%th — Been to the Hopra. Music tol lol. That Lablash 
 is a wopper at singing. I coodn make out why some people 
 called out ' Bravo/ some i Bravar,' and some ' Bravee.' 'Bra- 
 vee, Lablash/ says I, at which heverybody laft. 
 
 " I'm in my new stall. I've had new cushings put in, and 
 my harms in goold on the back. I'm dressed all in black, 
 excep a gold waistcoat and dimind studds in the embriderd 
 busom of my shameese. I wear a Camallia Jiponiky in my 
 button- ole, and have a double-barreld opera-glas, so big, that I 
 make Timmins, my secnd man, bring it in the other cabb. 
 
 " What an igstronry exabishn that Pawdy Carter is ! If 
 those four gals are faries, Tellioni is sutnly the fairy Queend. 
 She can do all that they can do, and somethink they can't. 
 There's an indiscrible grace about her, and Carlotty, my sweet 
 Carlotty, she sets my art in flams. 
 
 " Ow that Miss Hemly was noddin and winkin at me out of 
 their box on the fourth tear ? 
 
 " What linx i's she must av. As if I could mount up there ! 
 
 "P.S. — Talking of mounting hup ! the St. Helena's walked 
 up 4 per cent, this very day." 
 
 " 2d July. — Rode my bay oss Desperation in the park. 
 There was me, Lord George Ringwood (Lord Cinqbar's son), 
 Lord Ballybunnion, Honorable Capting Trap, & sevral hother 
 young swells. Sir John's carridge there in coarse. Miss 
 Hemly lets fall her booky as I pass, and I'm obleged to get hoff 
 and pick it hup, & get splashed up to the his. The gettin on 
 hossback agin is halways the juice & hall. Just as I was hon, 
 Desperation begins a porring the hair with his 4 feet, and sinks 
 down so on his anches, that I'm blest if I didn't slip hoff agin 
 over his tail ; at which Ballybunnion & the hother chaps rord 
 with 1 after. 
 
 v As Bally has istates in Queen's County, I've put him on 
 the St. Helena direction. We call it the 1 Great St. Helena 
 Napoleon Junction/ from Jamestown to Longwood. The 
 French are taking it hup heagerly." 
 
 " 6th July. — Dined to-day at the London Tavin with one 
 of the Welsh bords of Direction I'm hon. The Cwrwmwrw & 
 Plmwyddlywm, with tunnils through Snowding and Plinlim- 
 ming. 
 
 " Great nashnallity of course. Ap Shinkin in the chair, 
 Ap Llwydd in the vice ; Welsh mutton for dinner ; Welsh iron 
 knives & forks; Welsh rabbit after dinner; and a Welsh 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 95 
 
 harper, be hanged to him : he went strummint on his hojous 
 hinstrument, and played a toon piguliarly disagreeable to me. 
 
 " It was Pore Mary Hann. The clarrit holmost choaked 
 me as I tried it, and I very nearly wep myself as I thought of 
 her bewtifle blue i's. Why ham I always thinkin about that 
 gal ? Sasiety is sasiety, it's lors is irresistabl. Has a man of 
 rank I can't marry a serving-made. What would Cinqbar and 
 Ballybunnion say ? 
 
 " P. S. — I don't like the way that Cinqbars has of borroing 
 money, & halways making me pay the bill. Seven pound six 
 at the ' Shipp,' Grinnidge, which I don't grudge it, for Derby- 
 shire's brown Ock is the best in Urup ; nine pound three at 
 the 1 Trafflygar,' and seventeen pound sixteen and nine at the 
 ' Star and Garter,' Richmond, with the Countess St. Emilion 
 & the Baroness Frontignac. Not one word of French could I 
 speak, and in consquince had nothink to do but to make myself 
 halmost sick with heating hices and desert, while the hothers 
 were chattering and parly vooing. 
 
 " Ha ! I remember going to Grinnidge once with Mary 
 Hann, when we were more happy (after a walk in the park, 
 where we ad one gingy-beer betwigst us), more appy with tea 
 and a simple srimp than with hall this splender ! " 
 
 " July 24. — My first-floor apartmince in the Halbiny is now 
 kimpletely and chasely furnished — the droring-room with yellow 
 satting and silver for the chairs and sophies — hemrall green 
 tabbinet curtings with pink velvet & goold borders & fringes ; 
 a light-blue Haxminster Carpit, embroydered with tulips ; 
 tables, secritairs, cunsoles, &c, as handsome as goold can 
 make them, and candlesticks and shandalers of the purest 
 Hormolew. 
 
 " The Dining-room furniture is all hoak, British Hoak ; 
 round igspanding table, like a trick in a Pantimime, iccomma-' 
 dating any number from 8 to 24 — to which it is my wish to re- 
 strict my parties. Curtings crimsing damask, Chairs crimsing 
 myrocky. Portricks of my favorite great men decorats the 
 wall — namely, the Duke of Wellington. There's four of his 
 Grace. For I've remarked that if you wish to pass for a man of 
 weight and considdration you should holways praise and quote 
 him. I have a valluble one lickwise of my Queend, and 2 of 
 Prince Halbert — has a Field Martial and halso as a privat Gent. 
 I despise the vulgar snears that are daily hullered aginst that 
 Igsolted Pottentat. Betwigxt the Prins & the Duke hangs me, 
 
 7 
 
9 6 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 in the Uniform of the Cinqbar Malitia, of which Cinqbars has 
 made me Capting. 
 
 " The Libery is not yet done. 
 
 " But the Bedd-roomb is the Jem of the whole. If you 
 could but see it ! such a Bedworr ! I've a Shyval Dressing 
 Glass festooned- with Walanseens Lace, and lighted up of even- * 
 ings with rose-colored tapers. Goold dressing-case and twilet 
 of Dresding Cheny. My bed white and gold with curtings of 
 pink and silver brocay'd held up a top by a goold Qpid who 
 seems always a smilin angillicly hon me, as I lay with my Ed 
 on my piller hall sarounded with the finest Mechlin. I have a 
 own man, a yuth under him, 2 groombs, and a fimmale for the 
 House. I've 7 osses : in cors if I hunt this winter I must in- 
 crease my ixtablishment. 
 
 " N.B. Heverythink looking well in the City. Saint Hel- 
 nas, 12 pm. ; Madagascars, 9^ j Saffron Hill and Rookery 
 Junction, 24 \ and the new lines in prospick equily incouraging. 
 
 " People phansy it's hall gayety and pleasure the life of us 
 fashnabble gents about townd — But I can tell 'em it's not hall 
 goold that glitters. They don't know our momints of h agony, 
 hour ours of studdy and reflecshun. They little think when 
 they see Jeames de la Pluche, Exquire, worling round in a 
 walce at Halmax with Lady Hann, or lazaly stepping a kidrill 
 with Lady Jane, poring helegant nothinx into the Countess's 
 hear at dinner, or gallopin his hoss Desperation hover the 
 exorcism ground in the park, — they little think that leader of 
 the tong, seaminkly so reckliss, is a careworn mann ! and yet 
 so it is. 
 
 Imprymus. I've been ableged to get up all the ecom- 
 plishments at double quick, & to apply myself with treemen- 
 juous energy. 
 
 " First, — in border to give myself a hideer of what a gentle- * 
 man reely is, I've read the novvle of 1 Pelham ' six times, and 
 am to go through it 4 times mor. 
 
 " I practis ridin and the acquirement of ' a steady and & a 
 suie seat across Country' assijuously 4 times a week, at the 
 Hippydrum Riding Grounds. Many's the tumbil I've ad, and 
 the aking boans I've suffered from, though I was grinnin in the 
 Park or lafhn at the Opra. 
 
 M Every morning from 6 till 9, the innabitance of Halbany 
 may have been surprised to hear the sounds of music ishuing 
 from the apartmince of Jeames de la Pluche, Exquire, Letter 
 Hex. It's my dancing-master. From six to nine we have 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 
 
 97 
 
 walces ana polkies — at nine ' mangtiang & depotment,' as he 
 calls it ; & the manner of hentering a room, complimenting the 
 ost and ostess & compotting yourself at table. At nine I hen- 
 ter from my dressing-room (has to a party), I make my bow — 
 my master (he's a Marquis in France, and ad misfortins, being 
 connected with young Lewy Nepoleum) reseaves me — I had- 
 wance — speak abowt the weather & the toppixof the day in an 
 elegant & cussory manner. Brekfst is enounced by Fitzwar- 
 ren, my mann — we precede to the festive bord — complimence 
 is igschanged with the manner of drinking wind, adressing 
 your neighbor, employing your napking & finger-glas, &c. And 
 then we fall to brekfst, when I prommiss you the Marquis don't 
 eat like a commoner. He says I'm gettn on very well — soon I 
 shall be able to inwite people to brekfst, like Mr. Mills, my 
 rivle in Halbany ; Mr. Macauly, (who wrote that sweet book 
 of ballets, ' The Lays of Hancient Rum ; ') & the great Mr. 
 Rodgers himself. 
 
 " The above was wrote some weeks back. I have given 
 brekfsts sins then, reglar Deshunys. I have ad Earls and 
 Ycounts — Barnits as many as I chose : and the pick of the 
 Railway world, of which I form a member. Last Sunday was 
 a grand Fate. I had the Eleet of my friends : the display was 
 sumptious ; the company reshershy. Everything that Dellixy 
 could suggest was provided by Gunter. I had a Countiss on 
 my right & (the Countess of Wigglesbury, that loveliest and 
 most dashing of Staggs, who may be called the Railway 
 
 Queend, as my friend George H is the Railway King,) on 
 
 my left the Lady Blanche Bluenose, Prince Towrowski, the 
 great Sir Huddlestone Fuddlestone from the North, and a 
 skoar of the fust of the fashn. I was in my gloary — the dear 
 Countess and Lady Blanche was dying with laffing at my joax 
 and fun — I was keeping the whole table in a roar — when there 
 came a ring at my door-bell, and sudnly Fitzwarren, my man, 
 henters with an air of constanation. Theres somebody at the 
 door,' says he, in a visper. 
 
 " ' Oh, it's that dear Lady Hemily,' says I, 1 and that lazy 
 raskle of a husband of hers^ Trot them in, Fitzwarren,' (for 
 you see, by this time I had adopted quite the manners and 
 hease of the arristoxy.) — And so, going out, with a look of 
 wonder he returned presently, enouncing Mr. & Mrs. Blodder. 
 
 " I turned gashly pail. The table — the guests — the Coun- 
 tiss — Towrouski, and the rest, weald round & round before my 
 hagitated I's. It zvas my Grandmother and 'Huncle Bill. She 
 
THE DIAR Y OF 
 
 is a washerwoman at Healing Common, and he — he keeps a 
 ^vegetable donkey-cart. 
 
 " Y, Y hadn't John, the tiger, igscluded them ? He had 
 tried. But the unconscious, though worthy creeters, adwanced 
 in spite of him, Huncle Bill bringing in the old lady grinning 
 on his harm ! 
 
 " Phansy my feelinx." 
 
 " Immagin when these unfortnat members of my famly 
 hentered the room : you may phansy the ixtonnishment of the 
 nobil company presnt. Old Grann looked round the room 
 quite estounded by its horientle splender, and huncle Bill (pull- 
 ing off his phantail, & seluting the company as respeckfly as his 
 wulgar natur would alow) says — ' Crikey, Jeames, you've got a 
 better birth here than you ad where you were in the plush and 
 powder line.' 6 Try a few of them plovers hegs, sir,' I says, 
 whishing, I'm asheamed to say, that somethink would choke 
 
 huncle B ; ' and I hope, mam, now you've ad the kindniss 
 
 to wisit me, a little refreshment won't be out of your way.' 
 
 " This I said, detummind to put a good fase on the matter ; 
 and because in herly times I'd reseaved a great deal of kindniss 
 from the hold lady, which I should be a roag to forgit. She 
 paid for my schooling ; she got up my fine linning gratis ; shes 
 given me many & many a lb • and manys the time in appy appy 
 days when me and Maryhann has* taken tea. But never mind 
 that. ' Mam,' says I, ' you must be tired hafter your walk.' 
 
 " - Walk ? Nonsince, Jeames,' says she ; ' it's Saturday, & 
 I came in, in the cart? i Black or green tea, maam ? ' says Fitz- 
 warren, intarupting her. And I will say the feller showed his 
 nouce & good breeding in this difficklt momink ; for he'd hal- 
 ready silenced huncle Bill, whose mouth was now full of 
 muffinx, am, Blowny sausag, Perrigole pie, and other dellixies. 
 
 Wouldn't you like a little somethink in your tea, Mam,' 
 says that sly wagg Cinqbars. ' He knows what I likes,' replies 
 the hawfle hold Lady, pinting to me, (which I knew it very well, 
 having often seen her take a glass of hojous gin along with her 
 Bohee), and so I was ableeged to horder Fitzwarren to bring 
 round the licures, and to help my unfortnit rellatif to a bumper 
 of Ollands. She tost it hoff^o the elth of the company, giving 
 a smack with her lipps after she'd emtied the glas, which very 
 nearly caused me to phaint with hagny. But, luckaly for me, 
 she didn't igspose herself much farther : for when Cinqbars was 
 pressing her to take another glas, I cried out, ' Don't, my lord,' 
 on which old Grann hearing him edressed by his title, cried 
 
C JEAMES DE LA P LUC HE. 
 
 99 
 
 out, 6 A Lord ! o law ! ' and got up and made him a cutsy, and 
 coodnt be peswaded to speak another word. The presents of 
 the noble gent heavidently made her uneezy. 
 
 "The Countiss on my right and had shownt symtms of 
 ixtream disgust at the beayvior of my relations, and having 
 called for her carridge, got up to leave the room, with the most 
 dignified hair. I, of 'coarse, rose to conduct her to her weakle. 
 Ah, what a contrast it was ! There it stood, with stars and 
 garters hall over the pannels ; the footmin in peach-colored 
 tites ; the hosses worth 3 hundred apiece ; — and there stood 
 the horried linnen-cart, with ' Mary Blodder, Laundress, Ealing, 
 Middlesex,' wrote on the bord, and waiting till my abandind old 
 parint should come out. 
 
 " Cinqbars insisted upon helping her in. Sir Huddlestone 
 Fuddlestone, the great barnet from the North, who, great as he 
 is, is as stewpid as a howl, looked on, hardly trusting his 
 goggle Fs as they witnessed the sean. But little lively good 
 naterd Lady Kitty Quickset, who was going away with the 
 Countiss, held her little & out of the carridge to me and said, 
 * Mr. De la Pluche, you are a much better man than I took you 
 to be. Though her Ladyship is horrified, & though your 
 Grandmother did take gin for breakfast, don't give her up. No 
 one ever came to harm yet for honoring their father & mother.' 
 
 " And this was a sort of consolation to me, and I observed 
 that all the good fellers thought none the wuss of me. Cinq- 
 bars said I was a trump for sticking up for the old washer- 
 woman • Lord George Gills said she should have his linning ; 
 and so they cut their joax, and I let them. But it was a great 
 releaf to my mind when the cart drove hofT. 
 
 " There was one pint which my Grandmother observed, and 
 which, I must say, I thought lickwise : 1 Ho, Jeames,' says she, 
 ' hall those fine ladies in sattns and velvets is very well, but 
 there's not one of em can hold a candle to Mary Hann.' " 
 
 " Railway Spec is going on phamusly. You should see how 
 polite they har at my bankers now ! Sir Paul Pump Aldgate, 
 & Company. They bow me out of the back parlor as if I was 
 a Nybobb. Every body says I'm worth half a millium. The 
 number of lines ■ they're putting me upon, is inkumseavable. 
 I've put Fitzwarren, my man, upon several. Riginald Fitz- 
 warren, Esquire, looks splendid in a perspectus ; and the raskle 
 owns that he has made two thowsnd. 
 
 " How the ladies, & men too, foller and flatter me ! If I 
 go into Lady Binsis hopra box, she makes room for me, who 
 
IOO 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 ever is there, and cries out, ' O do make room for that dear 
 creature ! 1 And she complyments me on my taste in musick, 
 or my new Broom-os, or the phansy of my weskit, and always 
 ends by asking me for some shares. Old Lord Bareacres, as 
 stiff as a poaker, as proud as Loosyfer, as poor as Joab — even 
 he condysends to be sivvle to the great De la Pluche, and 
 begged me at Harthur's, lately, in his sollom, pompus way, ' to 
 favor him with five minutes' conversation.' I knew what was 
 coming — application for shares — put him down on my private 
 list. Wouldn't mind the Scrag End Junction passing through 
 Bareacres — hoped I'd come down and shoot there. 
 
 " I gave the old humbugg a few shares out of my own 
 pocket. 6 There, old Pride,' says I, ' I like to see you down on 
 your knees to a footman. There, old Pompossaty ! Take fifty 
 pound • I like to see you come cringing and begging for it.' 
 Whenever I see him in a very public place, I take my change 
 for my money. I digg him in the ribbs, or slap his padded old 
 shoulders. I call him f Bareacres, my old buck ! ' and I see 
 him wince. It does my art good. 
 
 " I'm in low sperits. A disagreeable insadent has just oc- 
 curred. Lady Pump, the banker's wife, asked me to dinner. I 
 sat on her right, of course, with an uncommon gal ner me, with 
 whom I was getting on in my fassanating way — full of lacy ally 
 (as the Marquis says) and easy plesntry. Old Pump, from the 
 end of the table, asked me to drink shampane ; and on turning 
 to tak the glass I saw Charles Wackles (with womb I'd been 
 imployed at Colonel Spurriers' house) grinning over his shoulder 
 at the butler. 
 
 " The beest reckonized me. Has I was putting on my palto 
 in the hall, he came up again : ■ How dy doo, Jeames ? ' says 
 he, in a findish visper. 4 Just come out here, Chawles,' says I, 
 * I've a word for you, my old boy.' So I beckoned him into 
 Portland Place, with my pus in my hand, as if I was going to 
 give him a. sovaring. 
 
 " ' I think you said " Jeames," Chawles,' says I, 1 and grind 
 at me at dinner ? " 
 
 " 'Why, sir,' says he, ' we're old friends, you know.' 
 
 " ' Take that for old friendship then,' says I, and I gave him 
 just one on the noas, which sent him down on the pavemint as 
 if he'd been shot. And mounting myjesticly into my cabb, I 
 left the rest of the grinning scoundrills to pick him up, & droav 
 to the Clubb." 
 
 " Have this day kimpleated a little efair with my friend 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA P LUC HE. 
 
 IOI 
 
 George, Earl Bareacres, which I trust will be to the advantidge 
 both of self & that noble gent. Adjining the Bareacre prop- 
 paty is a small piece of land of about 100 acres, called Squallop 
 Hill, igseeding advantageous for the cultivation of sheep, which 
 have been found to have a pickewlear fine flavior from the natur 
 of the grass, tyme, heather, and other hodarefarus plants which 
 grows on that mounting in the places where the rox and stones 
 don't prevent them. Thistles here is also remarkable fine, and 
 the land is also divided hofT by luxurient Stone Hedges — much 
 more usefle and ickonomicle than your quickset or any of that 
 rubbishing sort of timber : indeed the sile is of that fine natur, 
 that timber refuses to grow there altogether. I gave Bareacres 
 50/. an acre for this land (igsact premium of my St. Helena 
 Shares) — a very handsom price for land which never yielded 
 two shilings an acre ; and very convenient to his Lordship I 
 know, who had a bill coming due at his Bankers which he had 
 given them. James cle la Pluche, Esquire, is thus for the fust 
 time a landed propriator — or rayther, I should say, is about to 
 reshume the rank & dignity in the country which his Han-, 
 cestors so long occupied." 
 
 " I have caused one of our inginears to make me a plann of 
 the Squallop Estate, Diddlesexshire, the property of, &c, &c, 
 bordered on the North by Lord Bareacres' Country ; on the 
 West by Sir Granby Growler ; on the South by the Hotion. 
 An Arkytect & Survare, a young feller of great emagination, 
 womb we have employed to make a survey of the Great Caifra- 
 rian line, has built me a beautiful Villar (on paper), Plushton 
 Hall, Diddlesex, the seat of I de la P., Esquire. The house 
 is reprasented a handsome Itallian Structer, imbusmd in woods, 
 and circumwented by beautiful gardings. Theres a lake in 
 front with boatsful of nobillaty and musitions floting on its 
 placid suflace — and a curricle is a driving up to the grand hen- 
 trance, and me in it, with Mrs., or perhaps Lady Hangelana de 
 la Pluche. I speak adwisedly. I may be going to form a noble 
 kinexion. I may be (by marridge) going to unight my family 
 once more with Harrystoxy, from which misfortn has for some 
 sentries separated us. I have dreams of that sort. 
 
 " Tire sean sevral times in a dalitifle vishn a serting Erl, 
 standing in a hattitucle of bennydiction, and rattafying my 
 union with a serting butifle young lady, his daughter. Phansy 
 Mr. or Sir Jeames and lady Hangelina de la Pluche ! Ho ! 
 what will the old washywoman, my grandmother, say ? She 
 may sell her mangle then, and shall too bv my honor as a 
 
T02 
 
 THE DIARY OP 
 
 "As for Squallop Hill, its not to be emadgind that I was 
 going to give 5000 lb. for a bleak mounting like that, unless I 
 had some ideer in vew. Ham I not a Director of the Grand 
 Diddlesex ? Don't Squallop lie amediately betwigst Old Bone 
 House, Single Gloster, and Scrag End, through which cities 
 our line passes ? I will have 400,000 lb. for that mounting, or 
 my name is not Jeames. I have arranged a little barging too 
 for my friend the Erl. The line will pass through a hangle of 
 Bareacre Park. He shall have a good compensation I promis 
 you j and then I shall get back the -3000 I lent him. His 
 banker's account, I fear, is in a horrid state." 
 
 [The Diary now for several days contains particulars of no 
 interest to the public : — Memoranda of City dinners 
 — meetings of Directors — fashionable parties in which 
 Mr. Jeames figures, and nearly always by the side of 
 his new friend, Lord Bareacres, whose " pompossaty," 
 as previously described, seems to have almost entirely 
 subsided.] 
 
 We then come to the following : — 
 
 " With a prowd and thankfle Art, I copy off this morning's 
 Gyzett the folloing news :— 
 
 " ■ Commission signed by the Lord Lieutenant of the County 
 of Diddlesex. 
 
 " ' James Augustus, de la Pluche, Esquire, to be Deputy 
 Lieutenant.' " 
 
 " i North Diddlesex Regiment of Yeomanry Cavalry. 
 " * James Augustus de la Pluche, Esquire, to be Captain, 
 vice Blowhard, promoted.' " 
 
 " And his it so ? Ham I indeed a landed propriator — a 
 Deppaty Leftnant — a Capting ? May I hatend the Cort of my 
 Sovring ? and dror a sayber in my country's defens ? I wish 
 the French wood land, and me at the head of my squadring on 
 my hoss Desperation. How I'd extonish 'em ! How the gals 
 will stare when they see me in youniform ? How Mary Hann 
 would — but nonsince ! I'm halways thinking of that pore gal. 
 She's left Sir John's. She couldn't abear to stay after I went, 
 I've heerd say. I hope she's got a good place. Any summ of 
 money that would sett her up in bisniss, or make her comfar- 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA P LUC HE. 
 
 able, I'd come down with like a mann. I told my granmother 
 so, who sees her, and rode down to Healing on purpose on 
 Desperation to leave a five lb noat in an anvylope. But she 
 sent it back, sealed with a thimbill." 
 
 " Tuesday. — Reseavd the folloing letter from Lord B , 
 
 rellatiff to my presntation at Cort and the Youniform I shall 
 wear on that hospicious seramony : — 
 " ' My dear De la Pluche, 
 
 " ' 1 think you had better be presented as a Deputy 
 Lieutenant. As for the Diddlesex Yeomanry, I hardly know 
 what the uniform is now. The last time we were out was in 
 1803, when the Prince of Wales reviewed us, and when we 
 wore French gray jackets, leathers, red morocco boots, crimson 
 pelisses, brass helmets with leopard-skin and a white plume, 
 and the regulation pig-tail of eighteen inches. That dress 
 will hardly answer at present, and must be modified, of course. 
 We were called the White Feathers, in those days. For my 
 part, I decidedly recommend the Deputy Lieutenant. 
 
 " 4 1 shall be happy to present you at the Levee and at the 
 Drawing-room. Lady Bareacres will be in town for the 13th, 
 with Angelina, who will be presented on that day. My wife 
 has heard much of you, and is anxious to make your acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 " ' All my people are backward with their rents : for heaven's 
 sake, my dear fellow, lend me five hundred and oblige 
 
 " ' Yours, very gratefully, 
 
 " 4 Bareacres.' 
 
 u Note. — Bareacres may press me about the Depity Left- 
 nant ; but Tm for the cavvlery." 
 
 " Jewly will always be a sacrid anniwussary with me. It 
 was in that month that I became persnally ecquaintid with my 
 Prins and my gracious Sovarink. 
 
 " Long before the hospitious event acurd, you may imadgin 
 that my busum was in no trifling flutter. Sleaplis of nights, I 
 past them thinking . of the great ewent — or if igsosted natur 
 'did clothes my highlids — the eyedear of my waking thoughts 
 pevaded my slummers. Corts, Erls, presntations, Goldstix, 
 gracious Sovarinx mengling in my dreembs unceasnly. I blush 
 to say it (for humin prisumpshn never surely igseeded that of 
 my wicked wickid vishn), one night I actially dremt that Her 
 R. H. the Princess Hallis was grown up, and that there was a 
 
THE DIARY OF 
 
 Cabinit Counsel to detummin whether her & was to be bestoad 
 on me or the Prins of Sax-Muffinhausen-Pumpenstein, a young 
 Prooshn or Germing zion of nobillaty. I ask umly parding 
 for this hordacious ideer. 
 
 " I said, in my fommer remarx, that I had detummined to 
 be presented to the notus of my reveared Sovaring in a melin- 
 tary coschewm. The Court-shoots in which Sivillians attend 
 a Levy are so uncomming like the — the — livries (ojous wud ! I 
 8 to put it down) I used to wear before entering sosiaty, that I 
 couldn't abide the notium of wearing one. My detummination 
 was fumly fixt to apeer as a Yominry Cavilry Ploffiser, in the 
 galleant youniform of the North Diddlesex Huzzas. 
 
 " Has that redgmint had not been out sins 1803, I thought 
 myself quite hotherized to make such halterations in the youni- 
 form as shuited the presnt time and my metured and elygint 
 taste. Pig-tales was out of the question. Tites I was cletum- 
 mind to mintain. My legg is praps the finist pint about me, 
 and I was risolved not to hide it under a booshle. 
 
 " I phixt on scarlit tites, then, imbridered with goold, as I 
 have seen Widdicomb wear them at Hashleys when me and 
 Mary Hann used to go there. Ninety-six guineas worth of rich 
 goold lace and cord did I have myhandering hall hover those 
 shoperb inagspressables. 
 
 " Yellow marocky Heshn boots, red eels, goold spurs and 
 goold tassles as bigg as belpulls. 
 
 " Jackit — French gray and silver oringe fasings & cuphs, 
 according to the old patn ; belt, green and goold, tight round 
 my pusn, & settin hoff the cemetry of my figgar not disadvin- 
 tajusly. 
 
 " A huzza paleese of pupple velvit & sable fir. A sayber of 
 Demaskus steal, and a sabertash (in which I kep my Odiclone 
 and imbridered pocket ankercher), kimpleat my acooterments, 
 which, without vannaty, was, I flatter myself, uneak. 
 
 "But the crownding triumph was my hat. I couldnt wear a 
 cock At. The huzzahs clont use 'em. I wouldnt wear the 
 hojous old brass Elmet & Leppardskin. I choas a hat which is 
 dear to the memry of hevery Brittn ; an at which was inwented 
 by my Feeld Marshle and adord Prins; an At which vulgar 
 prejidis Jmkinghm in vane etempted to run down. I chose 
 the Halbert At. I didn't tell Bareacres of this egsabishn of 
 loilty, intending to surprise him. The white ploom of the West 
 Diddlesex Yomingry I fixt on the topp of this Shacko, where it 
 spread hout like a shaving-brush. 
 
 "You may be sure that befor the fatle day arrived, I didnt 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 105 
 
 niglect to practus my part well : and had sevral rehustles, as 
 they say. 
 
 u This was the way. I used to dress myself in my full togs. 
 I made Fitzwarren, my boddy servnt, stand at the dor, and 
 figger as the Lord in Waiting. I put Mrs. Bloker, my laun- 
 dress, in my grand harm chair to reprasent the horgust pusn of 
 my Sovring ; Frederick, my secknd man, standing on her left, 
 in the hattatude of an illustrus Prins Consort. Hall the Candles 
 were lighted. 4 Captain de la Pluche, presented by Herl Bare- 
 acres,' Fitzwarren, my man, igsclaimed, as adwancing I made 
 obasins to the Thrown. Nealin on one nee, I cast a glans of 
 unhuttarable loilty towards the British Crownd, then stepping 
 gracefully hup, (my Dimascus Simiter would git betwigst my 
 ligs, in so doink, which at fust was wery disagreeble) — rising 
 hup grasefly, I say, I flung a look of manly but respeckfl hom- 
 mitch tords my Prins, and then ellygntly ritreated backards out 
 of the Roil Presents. I kep my 4 suvnts hup for 4 hours at 
 this gaym the night before my presntation, and yet I was the 
 fust to be hup with the sunrice. I coodnt sleep that night. By 
 abowt six o'clock in the morning I was drest in my full uni- 
 form ; and I didnt know how to pass the interveaning hours. 
 
 " ' My Granmother hasnt seen me in full phigg,' says I. 
 1 It will rejoice that pore old sole to behold one of her race so 
 suxesfle in life. Has I ave read in the novle of " Kennle- 
 worth," that the Herl goes down in Cort dress and extoneshes 
 Hamy Robsart, I will go down in all my splender and astownd 
 my old washywoman of a Granmother.' To make this detum- 
 mination ; to horder my Broom ; to knock down Frederick the 
 groomb for delaying to bring it; was with me the wuck of a 
 momint. The next sor as galliant a cavyleer as hever rode in 
 a cabb, skowering the road to Healing. 
 
 " I arrived at the well-known cottitch. My huncle was hab- 
 sent with the cart ; but the dor of the humble eboad stood 
 hopen, and I passed through the little garding where the close 
 was hanging out to dry. My snowy ploom was ableeged to 
 bend under the lowly porch, as I hentered the apartmint. 
 
 " There was a smell of tea there — there's always a smell of 
 tea there — the old lady was at her Bohee as usual. I advanced 
 tords her ; but ha ! phansy my extonishment when I sor Mary 
 Hann ! 
 
 " I halmost faintid with himotion. * Ho, Jeames ! ' (she has 
 said to me subsquintly) 'mortial mann never looked so bewtifle 
 as you did when you arrived on the day of the Levy. You were 
 no longer mortial, you were diwine ! ' 
 
io6 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 " R ! what little Justas the Hartist has done to my mannly 
 
 etractions in the groce carriketure he's made of me." 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 " Nothing, perhaps, ever created so great a sensashun as my 
 hentrance to St. Jeames's, on the day of the Levy. The Tuckish 
 Hambasdor himself was not so much remarked as my shuperb 
 turn out. 
 
 " As a Millentary man, and a North Diddlesex Huzza, I was 
 resolved to come to the ground on hossback. I had Despara- 
 tion phigd out as a charger, and got 4 Melentery dresses from 
 Ollywell Street, in which I drest my 2 men (Fitzwarren, hout of 
 livry, woodnt stand it), and 2 fellers from Rimles, where my 
 hosses stand at livry. I rode up St. Jeames's Street, with my 
 4 Hadycongs — the people huzzaying — the gals waving their 
 hankerchers, as if I were a Foring Prins — hall the winders 
 crowdid to see me pass. 
 
 " The guard must have taken me for a Hempror at least, 
 when I came, for the drums beat, and the guard turned out and 
 seluted me with presented harms. 
 
 "What a mom ink of triumth it was ! I sprung myjestickly 
 from Desperation. I gav the rains to one of my horderlies, 
 and, salewting the crowd, I past into the presnts of my Most 
 Gracious Mrs. 
 
 M You, peraps, may igspect that I should narrait at lenth the 
 suckmstanzas of my hawjince with the British Crown. But I 
 am not one who would gratafy imputtnint curaiosaty. Rispect 
 for our reckonized instatewtions is my fust quallaty. I, for one, 
 will dye rallying round my Thrown. 
 
 " Suffise it to say, when I stood in the Horgust Presnts, — 
 when I sor on the right & of my Himperial Sovring that Most 
 Gracious Prins, to admire womb has been the chief Objick of 
 my life, my busum was seased with an imotium which my Penn 
 rifewses to dixcribe — my trembling knees halmost rifused their 
 hofBs — I reckleck nothing mor until I was found phainting in 
 the harms of the Lord Chamberling. Sir Robert Peal apnd to 
 be standing by (I knew our wuthy Primmier by Punch's picturs 
 of him, igspecially his ligs), and he was conwussing with a man 
 of womb I shall say nothink, but that he is a Hero of 100 fites, 
 and hevery fife he fit he one. Nead I say that I elude to Harthur 
 of Wellingting ? I introjuiced myself to these Jents, and intend 
 to improve the equaintance, and peraps ast Guvmint for a 
 Barnetcy. 
 
 " But there was another pusn womb on this droring-room I 
 fust had the ina'gspressable dalite to beold. This was that Star 
 
C. J E AMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 of fashing, that Sinecure of neighboring i's, as Milting observes, 
 the ecomplisht Lady Hangelina Thistlewood, daughter of my 
 exlent frencl, John George Godfrey de Bullion Thistlewood, Earl 
 of Bareacres, Baron Southdown, in the Peeridge of the United 
 Kingdom, Baron Haggismore, in Scotland, K.T., Lord Leftnant 
 of the County of Diddlesex, &c, &c. This young lady was with 
 her Noble Ma, when I was kinducted tords her. And surely 
 never lighted on this hearth a more delightfle vishn. In that 
 gallixy of Bewty the Lady Hangelina was the fairest Star — in 
 that reath of Loveliness the sweetest Rosebud ! Pore Mary 
 Hann, my Art's young affeckshns had been senterd on thee ; 
 but like water through a sivv, her immidge disapeared in a 
 momink, and left me intransd in the presnts of Hangelina. 
 
 "Lady Bareacres made me a myjestick bow — a grand and 
 hawfle pusnage her Ladyship is, with a Roming Nose, and an 
 enawmus ploom of Hostridge phethers ; the fare Hangelina 
 smiled with a sweetness perfickly bewhildring, and said, ' O, 
 Mr. De la Pluche, I'm so delighted to make your acquaintance. 
 I have often heard of you.' 
 
 " ' Who,' says I, ' has mentioned my insiggnificknt igsistance 
 to the fair Lady Hangelina ? kel bonure igstrame poor mivaw ? ' 
 (For you see I've not studdied 'Pelham ' for nothink, and have 
 lunt a few French phraces, without which no Gent of Fashn 
 speaks now.) 
 
 " 6 O,' replies my lady, " it was Papa first • and then a very, 
 very old friends of yours.' 
 
 " ' Whose name is,' says I, pusht on by my stoopid curaw- 
 saty 
 
 " ' Hoggins — Mary Ann Hoggins ' — ansurred my lady (laf- 
 fing phit to splitt her little sides). 6 She is my maid, Mr. De 
 la Pluche, and I'm afraid you are a very sad, sad person.' 
 
 "'A mere baggytell,' says I, ' In fommer days I was 
 equainted with that young woman ; but haltered suckmstancies 
 have sepparated us for never, and mong acre is irratreevably 
 fierdew elsewhere.' 
 
 " ' Do tell me all about it. Who is it ? When was it ? W T e 
 are all dying to know.' 
 
 " 4 Since about two minnits, and the Ladys name begins with 
 a Ha,' says I, looking her tendarly in the face, and conjring up 
 hall the fassanations of my smile. 
 
 " ' Mr. De la Pluche,' here said a gentleman in whiskers 
 and mistashes standing by, ' hadn't you better take your spurs 
 out of the ' Countess of Bareacres' train ? ' — ' Never mind 
 Mamma's- train ' (said Lady Hangelina) : 4 this is the great Mr, 
 
io8 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 De la Pluche, let me present you to Captain George Silvertop. 
 — The Capting bent just one jint of his back very slitely ; I 
 retund his stare with equill hottiness. i Go and see for Lady 
 Bareacres' carridge, George/ says his Lordship ; and vispers to 
 me, * a cousin of ours — a poor relation.' So I took no notis of 
 the feller when he came back, nor in my subsquint visits to 
 Hill Street, where it seems a knife and fork was laid reglar for 
 this shabby Capting." 
 
 " Thusday Night. — O Hangelina, Hangelina, my pashn for 
 you hogments daily ! I've bean with her two the Hopra. I 
 sent her a bewthie Camellia Jyponiky from Covn Garding, with 
 a request she would wear it in her raving Air. I woar another 
 in my butnole. Evns, what was my sattusfackshn as I leant 
 hover her chair, and igsammined the house with my glas ! 
 
 " She was as sulky and silent as pawsble, however — would, 
 scarcely speek ; although I kijoled her with a thowsnd little plesn- 
 tries. I spose it was because that wulgar raskle Silvertop wood 
 stay in the box. As if he didn' know (Lady B.'s as deaf as a poast 
 and counts for nothink) that people sometimes like a tatytatv " 
 
 " Friday. — I was sleeples all night. I gave went to my 
 feelings in the folloring lines — there's a hair out of Balfe's 
 Hopera that she's fond of. I edapted them to that mellady. 
 
 " She was in the droring-room alone with Lady B. She 
 was wobbling at the pyanna as I hentered. I flung the con- 
 vasation upon mewsick ; said I sung myself (I've ad lesns 
 of Signor Twankydillo) ; and on her rekwesting me to favor 
 her with somethink, I bust out with my pom : 
 
 " ' WHEN MOONLIKE OER THE HAZURE SEAS. 
 
 " ' When Moonlike oer the hazure seas 
 
 In soft effulgence swells, 
 When silver jews and balmy breaze 
 
 Bend down the Lily's bells ; 
 When calm and deap, the rosy sleap 
 
 Has lapt your soal in dreams, 
 R Hangaline ! R lady mine ! 
 
 Dost thou remember Jeames? 
 
 " ' I mark thee in the Marble All, 
 
 Where Englands loveliest shine- 
 I say the fairest of them hall 
 
 Is Lady Hangeline. 
 My soul, in desolate eclipse, * 
 
 With recollection teems — 
 And then I hask, with weeping lips, 
 
 Dost thou remember Jeames ? 
 
C, JEAMES DE LA P LUC HE. 
 
 " ' Away ! I may not tell thee hall 
 
 This soughring heart endures — 
 There is a lonely sperrit-call 
 
 That Sorrow r. ever cures ; 
 There is a little, little Star, 
 
 That still above me beams ; 
 It is the Star of Hope — but ar ! 
 
 Dost thou remember Jeames ? ' 
 
 " When I came to the last words, 1 Dost thou remember 
 Je-e-e-ams ? ' I threw such an igspresshn of unutterable ten- 
 derniss into the shake at the hend, that Hangelina could bear 
 it no more. A burst of uncumtrollable emotium seized her. 
 She put her ankercher to her face and left the room. I heard 
 her laffing and sobbing histerickly in the bedwor. 
 
 " O Hangelina — My adord one, My Arts joy ! " 
 
 " Bareacres, me, the ladies of the family, with their sweet 
 Southdown, B's eldest son, and George Silvertop, the shabby 
 Capting (who seems to git leaf from his regimint whenhever he 
 likes), have beene down into Diddlesex for a few days, enjying 
 the spawts of the feald there. 
 
 "Never having done much in the gunning line (since when 
 a hinnasent boy, me and Jim Cox used to go out at Healing, and 
 shoot sparrers in the Edges with a pistle) — I was reyther dowtfle 
 as to my suxes as a shot, and practusd for some days at a 
 stoughd bird in a shooting gallery, which a chap histed up and 
 down with a string. I sugseaded in itting the hannimle pretty 
 well. I bought Awker's ■ Shooting-Guide,' two double-guns at 
 Mantings, and ^elected from the French prints of fashn the 
 most gawjus and ellygant sporting ebillyment. A lite blue 
 velvet and goold cap, woar very much on one hear, a cravatt of 
 yaller & green imbroidered satting, a weskit of the McGrigger 
 plaid, and a jacket of the McWhirter tartn, (with large, mother- 
 apurl butns, engraved with the coaches & osses, and sporting 
 subjix,) high leather gayters, and marocky shooting shoes, was 
 the simple hellymence of my costewm, and I flatter myself set 
 hoff my figger in rayther a fayverable way. I took down none 
 of my own pusnal istablishmint except Fitzwarren, my hone 
 mann, and my grooms, with Desparation and my curricle osses, 
 and the Fourgong containing my dressing-case and close. 
 
 " I was heverywhere introjuiced in the county as the great 
 Railroad Cappitlist, who was to make Diddlesex the most 
 prawsperous districk of the hempire. The squires prest forrarcls 
 to welcome the new comer amongst 'em • and we had a Hag- 
 ricultural Meating of the Bareacres tenantry, where I made a 
 spech droring tears from heavery i. It was in compliment to a 
 
 8 
 
I TO 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 layborer who had brought up sixteen children, and lived sixty 
 years on the istate on seven bobb a week. I am not prowd, 
 though I know my station. I shook hands with that mann in 
 lavinder kidd gloves. I told him that the purshuit of hagri- 
 culture was the noblist hockupations of humannaty : I spoke 
 of the yoming of Hengland, who, (under the command of my 
 hancisters) had conquered at Hadjincourt & Cressy ; and I gave 
 him a pair of new velveteen inagspressables, with two and six 
 in each pocket, as a reward for three score years of labor. 
 Fitzwarren, my man, brought them forrards on a satting cush- 
 ing. Has I sat down defning chears selewted the horator ; 
 the band struck up ' The Good Old English Gentleman/ I 
 looked to the ladies galry \ my Hangelina waived her ankasher 
 and kissed her & ; and I sor in the distans that pore Mary 
 Hann efected evidently to tears by my ellaquints." 
 
 " What an adw r ance that gal has made since she's been in 
 Lady Hangelina's company ! Sins she wears her young lady's 
 igsploded gownds and retired caps and ribbings, there's an 
 ellygance abowt her which is puffckly admarable ; and which, 
 haddid to her own natral bewty & sweetniss, creates in my 
 boozum serting sensatiums. # # * Shor ! I mustn't give way to 
 fealinx unwurthy of a member of the aristoxy. What can she 
 be to me but a mere recklection — a vishn of former ears ? 
 
 " I'm blest if I didn mistake her for Hangelina herself yester- 
 day. I met her in the grand Collydore of Bareacres Castle. I 
 sor a lady in a melumcolly hattatude gacing outawinder at the 
 setting sun, which was eluminating the fair parx and gardings 
 of the hancient demean. 
 
 " ' Bewchus Lady Hangelina,' says I — 1 A penny for your 
 Ladyship's thought,' says I. 
 
 " ' Ho, Jeames ! Ho, Mr. De la Pluche ! ' hansered a well- 
 known vice, with a haxnt of sadnis which went to my art. 
 ' You know what my thoughts are, well enough. I was think- 
 ing of happy, happy old times, when both of us were poo — poo 
 — -oor,' says Mary Hann, busting out in a phit of crying, a thing 
 I can't ebide. I took her and tried to cumft her : I pinted out 
 the diffrents of our sitawashns ; igsplained to her that proppaty 
 has its jewties as well as its previletches, and that my juty 
 clearly was to marry into a noble famly. I kep on talking to 
 her (she sobbing and going hon hall the time) till Lady Hange- 
 lina herself came up — 6 The real Siming Pewer,' as they say in 
 the play. 
 
 " There they stood together — them two young women.* I 
 
\ 
 
 C. JEAMES BE LA PLUCHE. m 
 
 don't know which is the ansamest. I coodn help comparing 
 them ; and I coodnt help comparing myself to a certing Han- 
 nimle I've read of, that found it difricklt to make a choice be- 
 twigst 2 Bundles of A." 
 
 " That ungrateful beest Fitzwarren — my oan man — a feller 
 I've maid a fortune for — a feller I give 100 lb. per hannum to ! 
 — a low bred Wallydyshamber ! He must be thinking of fall- 
 ing in love too ! and treating me to his imperence. 
 
 " He's a great big athlatic feller — six feet i, with a pair of 
 black whiskers like air-brushes — with a look of a Colonel in the 
 harmy — a dangerous pawmpus -spoken raskle I warrunt you. I 
 was coming ome from shuiting this hafternoon — and passing 
 through Lady Hangelina's flour-garding, who should I see in 
 the summerouse, but Mary Hann pretending to em an ankyshr 
 and Mr. Fitzwarren paying his cort to her? 
 
 " ' You may as well have me, Mary Hann,' says he. 6 I've 
 saved money. We'll take a public-house and I'll make a lady 
 of you. I'm not a purse-proud ungrateful fellow like Jeames — 
 who's such a snob (' such a snobb j was his very words !) that 
 I'm ashamed to wait on him — who's the laughing stock of all 
 the gentry and the housekeeper's room too — try a man' says 
 he — ' don't be taking on about such a humbug as Jeames.' 
 
 " Here young Joe the keaper's sun, who was carrying my 
 bagg, bust out a laffing — thereby causing Mr. Fitzwarren to 
 turn round and intarupt this polite convasation. 
 
 " I was in such a rayge. ' Quit the building, Mary Hann,' 
 says I to the young woman — ' and you, Mr. Fitzwarren, have 
 the goodness to remain.' 
 
 " ' I give you warning,' roars he, looking black, blue, yaller 
 — all the colors of the ranebo. 
 
 " ' Take off your coat, you imperent, hungrateful scoundrel,' 
 says I. 
 
 " ' It's not your livery,' says he. 
 
 " ' Peraps you'll understand me, when I take off my own,' 
 says I, unbuttoning the motherapurls of the MacWhirter tartn. 
 4 Take my jackit, Joe,' says I to the boy, — and put myself in a 
 hattitude about which there was no mistayk. 
 
 " He's 2 stone heavier than me — and knows the use of his 
 ands as well as most men ; but in a fite, blood's everything ; the 
 Snobb can't stand before the gentleman ; and I should have 
 killed him, I've little doubt, but they came and stopt the fite 
 betwigst us before we'd had more than 2 rounds. 
 
112 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 " I pumsht the raskle tremenjusly in that time, though ; and 
 I'm writing this in my own sittn-room, not being able to come 
 down to dinner on account of a black-eye I've got, which is 
 sweld up and disfiggrs me dreadfL" 
 
 " On account of the hoffle black i which I reseaved in my 
 rangcounter with the hinfimus Fitzwarren, I kep my roomb for 
 sevral days, with the rose-colored curtings of the apartmint 
 closed, so as to form an agreeable twilike ; and a light-bloo 
 sattin shaycl over the injard pheacher. My woons was thus 
 made to become me as much as pawsable ; and (has the Poick 
 well observes ' Nun but the Brayv desuvs the Fare ') I cum- 
 soled myself in the sasiaty of the ladies for my tempory dis- 
 figgarment. 
 
 " It was Mary Hann who summind the House and put an 
 end to my phistycoughs with Fitzwarren. I licked him and 
 bare him no mall is : but of corse I dismist the imperent scoun- 
 drill from my suvvis, apinting Adolphus, my page, to his post 
 of confidenshle Valley. 
 
 " Mary Hann and her young and lovely Mrs. kep paying 
 me continyoul visits during my retiremint. Lady Hangelina 
 was halways sending me messidges by her : while my exlent 
 friend, Lady Bareacres (on the contry) was always sending me 
 toakns of affeckshn by Hangelina. Now it was a coolin hi- 
 lotium, inwented by herself, that her Ladyship would perscribe 
 —then, agin, it would be a booky of flowers (my favrit polly 
 hanthuses, pellagoniums, and jyponikys), which none but the 
 fair &s of Hangelina could dispose about the chamber of the 
 hinvyleed. Ho ! those dear mothers ! when they wish to find 
 a chans for a galliant young feller, or to ixtablish their dear 
 gals in life, what awpertunities they will give a man ! You'd 
 have phansied I was so hill (on account of my black hi,) that I 
 couldnt live exsep upon chicking and spoon-meat, and jellies, 
 and blemonges, and that I couldnt eat the latter dellixies 
 (which I ebomminate onternoo, prefurring a cut of beaf or 
 muttn to hall the kickpshaws of France,) unless Hangelina 
 brought them. I et 'em, and sacrafised myself for her dear 
 sayk. 
 
 " I may stayt here that in privit convasations with old Lord 
 B. and his son, I had mayd my proposals for Hangelina, and 
 was axepted, and hoped soon to be made the appiest.gent in 
 Hengland. 
 
 " ' You must break the matter gently to her,' said her hex- 
 lent father. 'You have my warmest wishes, my dear Mr. De 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 la Pluche, and those of my Lacly Bareacres ; but I am not — 
 not quite certain about Lady Angelina's feelings. Girls are 
 wild and romantic. They do not see the necessity of prudent 
 establishments, and I have never yet been able to make Ange- 
 lina understand the embarrassments of her family. These silly 
 creatures prate about love and a cottage, and despise advan- 
 tages which wiser heads than theirs know how to estimate.' 
 
 " 1 Do you mean that she aint fassanated by me ? ' says I, 
 bursting out at this outrayjus ideer. 
 
 H 4 She will be, my dear sir. You have already pleased her, 
 — your admirable manners must succeed in captivating her, and 
 a fond father's wishes will be crowned on the day in which you 
 enter our family.' 
 
 44 4 Recklect, gents,' says I to the 2 lords, — 4 a barging's a 
 barging — I'll pay hoff Southdown's Jews, when I'm his brother. 
 As a straynger' — (this I said in a sarcastickle toan) — 4 1 
 wouldn't take such a libbaty. When I'm your suninlor I'll 
 treble the valyou of your estayt. I'll make your incumbrinces 
 as right as a trivit, and restorthe ouse of Bareacres to its herly 
 splender. But a pig in a poak is not the way of transacting 
 bisniss imployed by Jeames De la Pluche, Esquire.' 
 
 44 And I had a right to speak in this way. I was one of the 
 greatest scrip-holders in Hengland ; and calclated on a kilossle 
 fortune. All my shares was rising immence. Every poast 
 brot me noose that I was sevrai thowsands richer than the day 
 befor. I was detummind not to realize till the proper time, 
 and then to buy istates ; to found a new family of Delapluches, 
 and to*alie myself with the aristoxy of my country. 
 
 44 These pints I reprasented to pore Mary Hann hover and 
 hover agin. 4 If you'd been Lady Hangelina, my dear gal,' says 
 I, 4 1 would have married you : and why don't I ? Because my 
 dooty prewents me. I'm a marter to dooty ; and you, my pore 
 gal, must cumsole yorself with that ideer.' 
 
 44 There seemed to be a consperracy, too, between that 
 Silvertop and Lady Hangelina to drive me to the same pint. 
 4 What a plucky fellow you were, Pluche,' says he (he was 
 rayther more familiar than I liked), in your fight with Fitzwar- 
 ren ! — to engage a man of twice your strength and science, 
 though you were sure to be beaten' (this is an etroashous 
 folsood : I should have finnisht Fitz in 10 minnits), 4 for the 
 sake of poor Mary Hann ! That's a generous fellow. I like 
 to see a man risen to eminence like you, having his heart in the 
 right place. When is to be the marriage, my boy ? 9 
 
 44 4 Capting S.,' says I, 4 my marridge consunns your most 
 
ii4 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 umble servnt a precious sight more than you ; 9 — and I gev him 
 to understand I didn't want him to put in his ore — I wasn't 
 afrayd of his whiskers, I prommis you, Capting as he was. I'm 
 a British Lion, I am ; as brayv as Bonypert, Hannible, or 
 Holiver Crummle, and would face bagnits as well as any Evy 
 drigoon of 'em all." 
 
 " Lady Hangelina, too, igspawstulated in her hartfl way, 
 4 Mr. De la Pluche (seshee), why, why press this point ? You 
 can't suppose that you will be happy with a person like me ? ' 
 
 44 4 1 adoar you, charming gal ! ' says I. " Never, never go 
 to say any such thing.' 
 
 " 4 You adored Mary Ann first,' answers her ladyship ; 4 you 
 can't keep your eyes off her now. If any man courts her you 
 grow so jealous that you begin beating him. You will break 
 the girl's heart if you don't marry her, and perhaps some one 
 else's — but you don't mind that 1 
 
 44 4 Break yours, you adoarible creature ! I'd die first ! And 
 as for Mary Hann, she will git over it ; people's arts ain't 
 broakn so easy. Once for all, suckmstances is changed be- 
 twigst me and er. It's a pang to part with her ' (says I, my 
 fine hi's filling with tears), 4 but part from her I must/ 
 
 44 It was curius to remark abowt that singlar gal, Lady 
 Hangelina, that melumcolly as she was when she was talking to 
 me, and ever so disml — yet she kep on laffing every minute like 
 the juice and all. 
 
 44 4 What a sacrifice ! ' says she ; 4 it's like Napoleon giving 
 up Josephine. What anguish it must cause to your susceptible 
 heart ! ' 
 
 4 4 4 It does,' says I — Hagnies ! ' (Another laff.) 
 
 4 4 4 And if — if I don't accept you — you will invade the States 
 of the Emperor, my papa, and I am to be made the sacrifice 
 and the occasion of peace between you ! ' 
 
 4 4 4 I don't know what you're eluding to about Joseyfeen and 
 Hemperors your Pas ; but I know that your Pa's estate is over 
 hedaneers morgidged ; that if some one don't elp him, he's no 
 better than an old pawper ; that he owes me a lot of money ; and 
 that I'm the man that can sell him up hoss & foot ; or set him 
 up agen — that's what I know, Lady Hangelina,' says I, with a 
 hair as much as to say, 4 Put that in your ladyship's pipe and 
 smoke it.' 
 
 44 And so I left her, and nex day a serting fashnable paper 
 enounced — 
 
 4 4 4 Marriage in High Life. — We hear that a matrimonial 
 union is on the tapis between a gentleman who has made a 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 "5 
 
 colossal fortune in the Railway World, and the only daughter 
 of a noble earl, whose estates are situated in D-ddles-x. An 
 early day is fixed for this interesting event.' " 
 
 " Contry to my expigtations (but when or ow can we reckn 
 upon the fealinx of wimming ?) Mary Hann didn't seem to be 
 much efected by the hideer of my marridge with Hangelina. I 
 was rayther disapinted peraps that the fickle young gal reckum- 
 siled herself so easy to give me hup, for we Gents are creechers 
 of vannaty after all, as well as those of the hopsit seeks : and 
 betwigst you and me there was mominx, when I almost whisht 
 that I had been borne a Myommidn or Turk, when the Lor 
 would have permitted me to marry both these sweet beinx, 
 wherehas I was now condemd to be appy with ony one. 
 
 " Meanwild everythink went on very agreeable betwigst me 
 and my defianced bride. When we came back to town I 
 kemishnd Mr. Showery the great Hoctionear to look out for a 
 town manshing sootable for a gent of my quail aty. I got from 
 the Erald Hofhs (not the Mawning Erald — no no, I'm not 
 such a Mough as to go there for ackrit infamation) an account 
 of my famly, my harms and pedigry. 
 
 " I hordered in Long Hacre, three splendid equ udges, on 
 which my arms and my adord wife's was drawn c^: quartered ; 
 and I got portricks of me and her paynted by the sellabrated 
 Mr. Shalloon, being resolved to be the gentleman in all things, 
 and knowing that my character as a man of fashn wasn't com- 
 pleat unless I sat to that dixtinguished Hartist. My likenis I 
 presented to Hangelina. It's not considered flattring — and 
 though she parted with it, as you will hear, mighty willingly, 
 there's one young lady (a thousand times handsomer) that values 
 it as the happle of her hi. 
 
 " Would any man beleave that this picture was soald at my 
 sale for about a twenty-fifth part of what it cost me ? It was 
 bought in by Maryhann, though : i O dear Jeames,' says she, 
 often (kissing of it & pressing it to her art), ' it isn't % ansum 
 enough for you, and hasn't got your angellick smile and the 
 igspreshn of your dear dear i's.' 
 
 " Hangelina's pictur was kindly presented to me by Countess 
 B., her mamma, though of coarse I paid for it'. It was engraved 
 for the i Book of Bewty ' the same year. 
 
 " With such a perfusion of ringlits I should scarcely have 
 known her — but the ands, feat, and i's, was very like. She was 
 painted in a gitar supposed to be singing one of my little mel- 
 
n6 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 ladies ; and her brother Southdown, who is one of the New 
 England poits, wrote the follering stanzys about her : — 
 
 " LINES UPON MY SISTER'S PORTRAIT, 
 
 BY THE LORD SOUTHDOWN. 
 
 " The castle towers of Bareacres are fair upon the lea, 
 
 Where the cliffs of bonny Diddlesex rise up from out the sea : 
 
 I stood upon the donjon keep and view'd the country o'er, 
 
 I saw the lands of Bareacres for fifty miles or more. 
 
 I stood upon the donjon keep — it is a sacred place, — 
 
 Where floated for eight hundred years the banner of my race ; 
 
 Argent, a dexter sinople, and gules an azure field, 
 
 There ne'er was nobler cognizance on knightly warrior's shield. 
 
 " The first time England saw the shield 'twas round a Norman neck 
 On board a ship from Valery, King William was on deck. 
 A Norman lance the colors wore, in Hastings' fatal fray — 
 St. Willibald for Bareacres! 'twas double gules that day! 
 O Heaven and sweet St. Willibald! in many a battle since 
 A loyal-hearted Bareacres has ridden by his Prince ! 
 At Acre with Plantagenet, with Edward at Poitiers, 
 The pennon of the Bareacres was foremost on the spears ! 
 
 u 'Twas pleasant in the battle-shock to hear our war-cry ringing: 
 O grant me, sweet St. Willibald, to listen to such singing ! 
 Three hundred steel-clad gentlemen, we drove the foe before us, 
 And thirty score of British bows kept twanging to the chorus! 
 O knights, my noble ancestors ! and shall I never hear 
 Saint Willibald for Bareacres through battle ringing clear ? 
 I'd cut me off this strong right hand a single hour to ride, 
 And strike a blow for Bareacres, my fathers, at your side ! 
 
 " Dash down, dash down, yon Mandolin, beloved sister mine ! 
 Those blushing lips may never sing the glories of our line : 
 Our ancient castles echo to the clumsy feet of churls, 
 The spinning Jenny houses in the mansion of our Earls. 
 Sing not, sing not, my Angeline ! in days so base and vile, 
 'Twere sinful to be happy, 'twere sacrilege to smile. 
 I'll hie me to my lonely hall, and by its cheerless hob 
 I'll muse on other days, and wish — and wish I were — A Snob." 
 
 " All young Hengland, I'm told, considers the poim bew- 
 tifle. They're always writing about batileaxis and shivvlery, 
 these young chaps ; but the ideer of Southdown in a shoot of 
 armer, and his cuttin hoff his * strong right hand,' is rayther 
 too good ; the feller is about 5 fit hi, — as ricketty as a babby, 
 with a vaist like a gal ; and though he may have the art and 
 curridge of Bengal tyger, I'd back my smallest cab-boy to lick 
 him, — that is, if I M a cab-boy. But io ! my cab-days is over. 
 
 " Be still my hagnizing Art ! I now am about to hunfoald 
 the dark payges of the Is try of my life ! " 
 
 " My friends ! you've seen me ither2 in the full kerear of 
 Fortn, prawsprus but not hover prowd of my prawsperraty j not 
 dizzy though mounted on the haypix of Good Luck — feasting 
 hall the great (like the Good Old Henglish Gent in the song, 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 117 
 
 which he has been my moddle and igsample through life), but 
 not forgitting the small — No, my beayviour to my granmother 
 at Healing shows that. I bot her a new donkey cart (what the 
 French call a cart-blansh) and a handsome set bf peggs for 
 anging up her linning, and treated Huncle Bill to a new shoot 
 of close, which he ordered in St. Jeames's Street, much to the 
 estonishment of my Snyder there, namely an ollifT-green velvy- 
 teen jackit and smalclose, and a crimsn plush weskoat with 
 glas-buttns. These pints of genarawsaty in my disposishn I 
 never should have eluded to, but to show that I am naturally 
 of a noble sort, and have that kind of galliant carridge which 
 is equel to either good or bad forting. 
 
 " What was the substns of my last chapter ? In that every- 
 think was prepayred for my marridge — the consent of the 
 parents of my Hangelina was gaynd, the lovely gal herself was 
 ready (as I thought) to be led to Himing's halter — the trooso 
 was hordered — the wedding dressis were being phitted hon — a 
 weddinkake weighing half a tunn was a gettn reddy by Mesurs 
 Gunter, of Buckley Square ; there was such an account for 
 Shantilly and Honiton laces as would have staggerd henny- 
 boddy (I know they did the Commissioner when I came hup 
 for my Stiffikit), and has for Injar-shawls I bawt a dozen sich 
 fine ones as never was given away — no not by Hiss Iness the 
 Injan Prins Juggernaut Tygore. The juils (a pearl and dimind 
 shoot) were from the establishmint of Mysurs Storr and Mor- 
 timer. The honey-moon I intended to pass in a continentle 
 excussion, and was in treaty for the ouse at Halberd-gate 
 (hopsit Mr. Hudson's) as my town-house. I waited to cura- 
 clude the putchis untie the Share-Markit which was rayther 
 deprest (oing I think not so much to the atax of the misrabble 
 Times , as to the prodidjus flams of the Morning Eralcf) was 
 restored to its elthy toan. I wasn't goin to part with scrip 
 which was 20 primmium at 2 or 3 ; and bein confidnt that the 
 Markit would rally, had bought very largely for the two or three 
 new accounts. 
 
 " This will explane to those unfortnight traydsmen to womb 
 I gayv orders for a large igstent ow it was that I couldn't pay 
 their accounts. I am the soal of onor — but no gent can pay 
 when he has no money : — it's not my fault if that old screw 
 Lady Bareacres cabbidged three hundred yards of lace, and 
 kep back 4 of the biggest diminds and seven of the largist Injar 
 Shawls — it's not my fault if the tradespeople didn git their goods 
 back, and that Lady B. declared they were lost. I began the 
 world afresh with the close on my back, and thirteen and six 
 
n8 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 in money, concealing nothink, giving up heverythink, Onist 
 and undismayed, and though beat, with pluck in me still, and 
 ready to begin agin. 
 
 " Well — it was the day before that apinted for my Unium. 
 The 6 Ringdove ' steamer was lying at Dover ready to carry us 
 •hofL The Bridle apartmince had been hordered at Salt Hill, 
 and subsquintly at Balong sur Mare — the very table-cloth was 
 laid for the weddn brexfst in 111 Street, and the Bride's Right 
 Reverend Huncle, the Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy, had 
 arrived to sellabrayt our unium. All the papers were full of it. 
 Crowds of the fashnable world went to see the trooso, and 
 admire the Carridges in Long Hacre. Our travleng charrat 
 (light bloo lined with pink satting, and vermillium and goold 
 weals) was the hadmaration of all for quiet ellygns. We were 
 to travel only 4, viz., me, my lady, my vally, and Mary Hann 
 as famdyshamber to my Hangelina. Far from oposing our 
 match, this worthy gal had quite givn into it of late, and laught 
 and joakt, and enjoyd our plans for the fewter igseedinkly. 
 
 " I'd left my lovely Bride very gay the night before — aving 
 a multachewd of bisniss on, and Stockbrokers' and bankers' 
 accounts to settle : atsettrey atsettrey. It was layt before I got 
 these in horder : my sleap was feavrish, as most mens is when 
 they are going to be marrid or to be hanged. I took my 
 chocklit in bed about one ; tride on my wedding close, and 
 found as ushle that they became me exeedingly. 
 
 " One thing distubbed my mind — two weskts had been sent 
 home. A blush-white satting and gold, and a kinary colored 
 tabinet imbridered in silver : which should I wear on the hos- 
 picious day ? This hadgitated and perplext me a good deal. 
 I detummined to go down to Hill Street and cumsult the Lady 
 whose wishis were henceforth to be my hallinal ; and wear 
 whichever she phixt on. 
 
 " There was a great bussel and distubbans in the Hall in 
 111 Street : which I etribyouted to the eproaching event. The 
 old porter stared most uncommon when I kem in — the footman 
 who was to enounce me laf t I thought — I was going up stairs — 
 
 "'Her ladyship's not — not at home,' says the man; ' and 
 my lady's hill in bed.' 
 
 " ' Git lunch,' says I, ' I'll wait till Lady Hangelina returns.' 
 
 " At this the feller loox at me for a momint with his cheex 
 blown out like a bladder, and then busts out in a reglar guffau ! 
 the porter jined in it, the impident old raskle : and Thomas 
 says, slapping his hand on his thy, without the least respect— 
 ' I say, Huffy \ old boy ! isn't this a good un f ' 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUG HE. 
 
 119 
 
 11 ' Wadyermean, you infunnle scoundrel,' says I, ' hollaring 
 and laffing at me ? ' 
 
 " ' Oh, here's Miss Mary Hann coming up,' says Thomas, 
 4 ask her- — and indeed there came my little Mary Hann trip- 
 ping down the stairs — her &s in her pockits ; and when she 
 saw me, she began to blush and look hod & then to grin too. 
 
 " ' In the name of Imperence,' says I, rushing on Thomas, 
 and collaring him fit to throttle him — 4 no raskle of a flunky 
 shall insult me, 9 and I sent him staggerin up aginst the porter, 
 and both of 'em into the hall-chair with a flopp — when Mary 
 Hann, jumping down, says, ' Q James ! O Mr. Plush ! read this ' 
 — and she pulled out a billy doo. 
 
 " I reckanized the and-writing of Hangelina." 
 
 " Deseatful Hangelina's billy ran as follows : — 
 " ' I had all along hoped that you would have relinquished 
 pretensions which you must have seen were so disagreeable to 
 me ; and have spared me the painful necessity of the step which 
 I am compelled to take. For a long time I could not believe 
 my parents were serious in wishing to sacrifice me, but have in 
 vain entreated them to spare me. I cannot undergo the shame 
 and misery of a union with you. To the very last hour I 
 remonstrated in vain, and only now anticipate, by a few hours, 
 my departure from a home from which they themselves were 
 about to expel me. 
 
 " 6 When you receive this, I shall be united to the person 
 to whom, as you are aware, my heart was given long ago. 
 My parents are already informed of the step I have taken. 
 And I have my own honor to consult, even before their bene- 
 fit : they will forgive me, I hope and feel," before long. 
 
 " 1 As for yourself, may I not hope that time will calm your 
 exquisite feelings too ? I leave Mary Ann behind me to con- 
 sole you. She admires you as you deserve to be admired and 
 with a constancy which I entreat you to try and imitate. Do, 
 my dear Mr. Plush, try — for the sake of your sincere friend 
 and admirer, 
 
 " ' A. 
 
 " P.S. I leave the wedding-dresses behind for her : the dia- 
 monds are beautiful, and will become Mrs. Plush admirably.' 
 
 "This was hall ! — Confewshn ! And there stood the foot- 
 men sniggerin, and that hojus Mary Hann half a cryin, half a 
 laffing at me ! i Who has she gone hoff with ? ' rors I ; and 
 
120 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 Mary Harm (smiling with one hi) just touched the top of one 
 of the Johns' canes who was goin out with the noats to put hoff 
 the brekfst. It was Silvertop then ! 
 
 " I bust out of the house in a stayt of diamoniacal igsite- 
 ment ! 
 
 " The stoary of that ilorpmint / have no art to tell. Here 
 it is from the Mornmg Tatler newspaper : — 
 
 " ELOPEMENT IN HIGH LIFE. • 
 
 " THE ONLY AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT. 
 
 " The neighborhood of Berkeley Square, and the whole 
 fashionable world, has been thrown into a state of the most 
 painful excitement by an event which has just placed a noble 
 family in great perplexity and affliction. 
 
 "It has long been known among the select nobility and 
 gentry that a marriage was on the tapis between the only 
 daughter of a Noble Earl, and a Gentleman whose rapid for- 
 tunes in the railway world have been the theme of general 
 remark. Yesterday's paper, it was supposed, in all human 
 probability would have contained an account of the marriage 
 
 of James De la PI — che, Esq., and the Lady Angelina , 
 
 daughter of the Ri^ht Honorable the Earl of B — re — cres. 
 The preparations for this ceremony were complete : we had the 
 pleasure of inspecting the rich trousseau (prepared by Miss 
 Twiddler, of Pall Mall) ; the magnificent jewels from the 
 establishment of Messrs. Storr and Mortimer ; the elegant 
 marriage cake, which, already cut up and portioned, is, alas ! 
 not destined to be eaten by the friends of Mr. De la PI — che ; 
 the superb carriages,' and magnificent liveries, which had been 
 provided in a style of the most lavish yet tasteful sumptuosity. 
 The Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy had 
 arrived in town to celebrate the nuptials, and is staying at 
 Mivart's. What must have been the feelings of that venerable 
 prelate, what those of the agonized and noble parents of the 
 Lady Angelina — when it was discovered, on the day previous 
 to the wedding, that her Ladyship had fled the paternal man- 
 sion ! To the venerable Bishop the news of his noble niece's 
 departure might have been fatal : we have it from the waiters of 
 Mivart's that his Lordship was about to indulge in the refresh- 
 ment of turtle soup when the news was brought to him ; 
 immediate apoplexy was apprehended ; but Mr. Macann, the 
 celebrated surgeon of Westminster, was luckily passing through 
 Bond Street at the time, and being promptly called in, bled 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 121 
 
 and relieved the exemplary patient. His Lordship will return 
 to the Palace, Bullocksmithy, to-morrow. 
 
 " The frantic agonies of the Right Honorable the Earl of 
 Bareacres can be imagined by every paternal heart. Far be it 
 from us to disturb — impossible is it for us to describe their noble 
 sorrow." Oar reporters have made inquiries every ten minutes 
 at the Earl's mansion in Hill Street, regarding the health of the 
 Noble Peer and his incomparable Countess. They have been 
 received with a rudeness which we deplore but pardon. One 
 was threatened with a cane ; another, in the pursuit of his offi- 
 cial inquiries, was saluted with n pail of water ; a third gentle- 
 man was menaced in a pugilistic manner by his Lordship's 
 porter ; but being of an Irish nation, a man of spirit and sinew, 
 and Master of Arts of Trinity College, Dublin, the gentleman 
 of our establishment confronted the menial, and having severely 
 beaten him, retired to a neighboring hotel much frequented by 
 the domestics of the surrounding nobility, and there obtained 
 what we believe to be the most accurate particulars of this 
 extraordinary occurrence. 
 
 " George Frederick Jennings, third footman in the establish- 
 ment of Lord Bareacres, stated to our employe as follows : — 
 Lady Agelina had been promised to Mr. de la Pluche for near 
 six weeks. She never could abide that gentleman. He was 
 the laughter of all the servant's hall. Previous to his elevation 
 he had himself been engaged in a domestic capacity. At that 
 period he had offered marriage to Mary Ann Hoggins, who was 
 living in the quality of ladies'-maid in the family where Mr. De 
 la P. was employed. Miss Hoggins became subsequently lady's- 
 maid to Lady Angelina — the elopement was arranged between 
 those two. It was Miss Hoggins who delivered the note which 
 informed the bereaved Mr. Plush of his loss. 
 
 " Samuel Buttons, page to the Right Honorable the Earl of 
 Bareacres, was ordered on Friday afternoon at eleven o'clock 
 to fetch a cabriolet from the stand in Davies Street. He 
 selected the cab No. 19,796, driven by George Gregory Macarty, 
 a one-eyed man from Clonakilty, in the neighborhood of Cork, 
 Ireland (of whom more anon), and waited, according to his instruc- 
 tions, at the corner of Berkeley Square with his vehicle. His 
 young lady, accompanied by her maid, Miss Mary Ann Hoggins, 
 carrying a bandbox, presently arrived, and entered the cab 
 with the box : what were the contents of that box we have 
 never been able to ascertain. On asking her Ladyship whether 
 he should order the cab to drive in any particular direction, he 
 was told to drive to Madame Crinoline's, the eminent milliner 
 
122 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 in Cavendish Square. On requesting to know whether he 
 should accompany her Ladyship, Buttons was peremptorily 
 ordered by Miss Hoggins to go about his business. 
 
 " Having now his clue, our reporter instantly went in search 
 of cab 19,796, or rather the driver of that vehicle, who was dis- 
 covered with no small difficulty at his residence, Whetstone 
 Park, Lincoln's Inn Fields, where he lives with his family of 
 nine children. Having received two sovereigns, instead doubt- 
 less of two shillings (his regular fare, by the way, would have 
 been only one-and-eightpence), Macarty had not gone out with 
 the cab for the two last days, passing them in a state of almost 
 ceaseless intoxication. His replies were very incoherent in an- 
 swer to the queries of our reporter; and, had not that gentle- 
 man himself been a compatriot, it is probable he would have 
 refused altogether to satisfy the curiosity of the public. 
 
 " At Madame Crinoline's, Miss Hoggins quitted the carriage, 
 and a gentleman entered it. Macarty describes him as a very 
 clever gentleman (meaning tall) with black mustaches, Oxford- 
 gray trousers, and black hat and a pea-coat. He drove the 
 couple to the*Euston Square Station, and there left them. How 
 he employed his time subsequently we have stated. 
 
 " At the Euston Square Station, the gentleman of our estab- 
 lishment learned from Frederick Corduroy, a porter there, that 
 a gentleman answering the above description had taken places 
 to Derby. We have despatched a confidential gentleman thither, 
 by a special train, and shall give his report in a second edition. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 " {From our Reporter.) 
 
 " Newcastle, Monday. 
 " I am just arrived at this ancient towm, at the ' Elephant 
 and Cucumber Hotel' A party travelling under the name of 
 Mr. and Mrs. Jones, the gentleman wearing mustaches, and 
 having with them a blue bandbox, arrived by the train two 
 hours before me, and have posted onwards to Scotland. I 
 have ordered four horses, and write this on the hind boot, as 
 they are putting to. 
 
 " THIRD EDITION. 
 
 " Gretna Green, Monday Evening. 
 " The mystery is at length solved. This afternoon, at four 
 o'clock, the Hymeneal Blacksmith, of Gretna Green, celebrated 
 
C. -J E AMES DE LA P LUC HE. 
 
 123 
 
 the marriage between George Granby Silvertop, Esq., a Lieu- 
 tenant in the 150th Hussars, third son of General John Silver- 
 top, of Silvertop Hall, Yorkshire, and lady Emily Silvertop, 
 daughter of the late sister of the present Earl of Bareacres, and 
 the Lady Angelina Amelia Arethusa Anaconda Alexandrina 
 Alicompania Annemaria Antoinetta, daughter of the last-named 
 Earl Bareacres. 
 
 {Here follows a long extract from the Marriage Service in the Book of 
 Common Prayer, zvhich was not read on the occasion, and need not be 
 repeated here.) 
 
 " After the ceremony, the young couple partook of a slight 
 refreshment of sherry and water — the former the Captain pro- 
 nounced to be execrable ; and, having myself tasted some 
 glasses from the very same bottle with which the young and 
 noble pair were served, I must say I think the Captain was 
 rather hard upon mine host of the 4 Bagpipes Hotel and Post- 
 ing-House,' whence they instantly proceeded. I follow them 
 as soon as the horses have fed. 
 
 "FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 "SHAMEFUL TREATMENT OF OUR REPORTER. 
 
 " Whistlebinkie, N. B. Monday, midnight. 
 
 " I arrived at this romantic little villa about two hours after 
 the newly married couple, whose progress I have the honor to 
 trace, reached Whistlebinkie. They have taken up their resi- 
 dence at the 4 Cairngorm Arms ' — mine is at the other hostelry, 
 the 4 Clachan of Whistlebinkie. ' 
 
 " On driving up to the 4 Cairngorm Arms,' I found a gentle- 
 man of military appearance standing at the door, and occupied 
 seemingly in smoking a cigar. It was very dark as I descended 
 from my carriage, and the gentleman in question exclaimed, 
 \ Is it you, Southdown my boy ? You have come too late ; 
 unless you are come to have some supper ; ' or words to that 
 effect. I explained that I was not the Lord Viscount South- 
 down, and politely apprised Captain Silvertop (for I justly 
 concluded the individual before me could be no other) of his 
 mistake. 
 
 44 4 Who the deuce ' (the Captain used a stronger term) 4 are 
 you, then ? ' said Mr. Silvertop. 4 Are you Baggs and Tape- 
 well, my uncle's attorneys ? If you are, you have come toe- 
 late for the fair.' 
 
124 
 
 THE DIAR Y OF 
 
 " I briefly explained that I was not Baggs and Tapewell, 
 but that my name was J — ms, and that I was a gentleman con- 
 nected with the establishment of the Morning Tatler newspaper. 
 
 " ' And what has brought you here, Mr. Morning Tatler ? ' 
 asked my interlocutor, rather roughly. My answer was frank 
 — that the disappearance of a noble lady from the house of her 
 friends had caused the greatest excitement in the metropolis, 
 and that my employers were anxious to give the public every 
 particular regarding an event so singular. 
 
 " ' And do you mean to say, sir, that you have dogged me 
 all the way from London, and that my family affairs are to be 
 published for the readers of the Morning Tatler newspaper ? 
 
 The Mornifig Tatler be (the Captain here gave utterance 
 
 to an oath which I shall not repeat) and you too, sir : you im- 
 pudent meddling scoundrel.' 
 
 " ' Scoundrel, sir! ' said I. * Yes,' replied the irate gentle- 
 man, seizing me rudely by the collar — and he would have choked 
 me, but that my blue satin stock and false collar gave way, and 
 were left in the hands of this gentleman. 1 Help, landlord ! ' I 
 loudly exclaimed, adding, I believe, 'murder,' and other ex- 
 clamations of alarm. In vain I appealed to the crowd, which 
 by this time was pretty considerable ; they and the unfeeling 
 post-boys only burst into laughter, and called out, - Give it him, 
 Captain.' A struggle ensued, in which I have no doubt I 
 should have had the better, but that the Captain, joining sud- 
 denly in the general and indecent hilarity, which was doubled 
 when I fell down, stopped and said, ' Well, Jims, I won't fight 
 on my marriage-day. ' Go into 1 the tap, Jims, and order a glass 
 of brandy-and-water at my expense — and mind I don't see your 
 face to-morrow morning, or I'll make it more ugly than it is.' 
 
 " With these gross expressions and a cheer from the crowd, 
 Mr. Silvertop entered the inn. I need not say that I did not 
 partake of his hospitality, and that personally I despise his in- 
 sults. I make them known that they may call down the indig- 
 nation of the body of which I am a member, and throw myself 
 on the sympathy of the public, as a gentleman shamefully 
 assaulted and insulted in the discharge of a public duty." 
 
 "Thus you've sean how the flower of my affeckshns was 
 tawn out of my busm, and my art was left bleading. Hange- 
 tna ! I forgive thee. Mace thou be appy ! If ever artfelti 
 prayer for others wheel awailed on i, the beink on womb you 
 lrampled addresses those subblygations to Evn in your be^- ! 
 
 " I went home like a maniack, after hearing the anounce- 
 
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE. 
 
 ment of Hangelina's departer. She'd been gone twenty hours 
 when I heard the fatle noose. Purshoot was vain. Suppose I 
 did kitcb her up, they were married, and what could we do ? 
 This sensable remark I made to Earl Bareacres, when that dis- 
 tragted nobleman igspawstulated with me. Er who was to have 
 been my mother-in-lor, the Countiss, I never from that momink 
 sor agin. My presnts, troosoes, juels, &c, were sent back — 
 with the igsepshn of the diminds and Cashmear shawl, which 
 her Ladyship coodrtt find. Ony it was wispered that at the nex 
 buthclay she was seen with a shawl igsackly of the same fiattn. 
 Let er keep it. 
 
 " Southdown was phurius. He came to me hafter the 
 ewent, and wanted me to adwance 50 lb., so that he might per- 
 shew his fewgitif sister — but I wasn't to be ad with that sort of 
 chaugh — there was no more money for that famly. So he went 
 away, and gave huttrance to his feelinx in a poem, which ap- 
 peared (price 2 guineas) in the Bel Asombly. 
 
 "All the juilers, manchumakers, lacemen, coch bilders, 
 apolstrers, hors dealers, and weddencake makers came pawring 
 in with their bills, haggravating feelings already woondid be- 
 yond enjurants. That madniss didn't seaze me that night was 
 a mussy. Fever, fewry, and rayge rack'd my hagnized braind, 
 and drove sleap from my throbbink ilids. Hall night I follered 
 Hangelinar in imadganation along the North Road. I wented 
 cusses & mallydickshuns on the hinfamus Silvertop. I kickd 
 and rord in my unhuttarable whoe ! I seazd my pillar : I 
 pitcht into it : pummld it, strangled it. Ha har ! I thought 
 it was Silvertop writhing in my Jint grasp ; and taw the hor- 
 dayshis villing lim from lim in the terrible strenth of my de- 
 spare ! . * * * Let me drop a cutting over the memries of 
 that night. When my boddy-suvnt came with my ot water in 
 the mawning, the livid copse in the charnill was not payler than 
 the gashly De la Pluche ! 
 
 " 1 Give me the Share-list, Mandeville,' I micanickly igs- 
 claimed. I had not perused it for the past 3 days, my etention 
 being engayged elseware. Hevns & huth ! — what was it I red 
 here ? What was it that made me spring outabed as if sum- 
 bady had given me cold pig ? — I red Rewin in that Share-list 
 — the Pannick was in full hoparation ! 
 
 " Shall I describe that kitastrafy with which hall Hengland 
 is familiar ? My & rifewses to cronnicle the misfortns which 
 la-ssarated my bleeding art in Hoctober last. On the fust of 
 Hawgust where was I ? Director of twenty-three Companies ; 
 
 9 
 
126 
 
 THE DIARY OF 
 
 older of scrip hall at a primmium, and worth at least a quartei 
 of a millium. On Lord Mare's day, my Saint Helenas quotid 
 at 14 pm, were down at \ discount; my Central Ichaboes at 
 Y% discount ; my Table Mounting & Hottentot Grand Trunk, 
 no where ; my Bathershins and Derrynane Beg, of which I'd 
 bought 2000 for the account at 17 primmium, down to nix ; my 
 Juan Fernandez, my Great Central Oregons, prostrit. There 
 was a momint when I thought I shouldn't be alive to write my 
 own tail ! " 
 
 (Here follow in Mr. Plush's MS. about twenty-four pages of 
 railroad calculations, which we pretermit.) 
 
 " Those beests, Pump & Aldgate, once so cringing and 
 umble, wrote me a threatnen letter because I overdrew my ac- 
 count three-and-sixpence : woodn't advance me five thousand 
 oh 25,000 worth of scrip ; kep me waiting 2 hours when I 
 asked to see the house ; and then sent out Spout, the jewnior 
 partner, saying they wouldn't discount my paper, and implawed 
 me to clothes my account. I did : I paid the three-and-six 
 balliance, and never sor 'em mor. 
 
 " The market fell daily. The Rewin grew wusser and wus- 
 ser. Hagnies, Hagnies ! It wasn't in the city aloan my mis- 
 fortns came upon me. They beerded me in my own ome. 
 The biddle who kips watch at the Halbany wodn keep misfortn 
 out of my chambers ; and Mrs. Twiddler, of Pall Mall, and 
 Mr. Hunx, of Long Acre, put egsicution into my apartmince, 
 and swep off every stick of my furniture. * Wardrobe & furni- 
 ture of a man of fashion.' What an adwertisement George Rob- 
 bins did make of it ; and what a crowd was collected to laff at 
 the prospick of my ruing ! My chice plait ; my seller of wine ; 
 my picturs — that of myself included (it was Maryhann, bless 
 her ! that bought it, unbeknown to me) ; all — all went to the 
 ammer. That brootle Fitzwarren, my ex-vally, womb I met, 
 fimilliarly slapt me on the sholder, and said, ' Jeames, my boy, 
 you'd best go into suvvis aginn.' 
 
 " I did go into suvvis — the wust of all suvvices — I went 
 into the Queen's Bench Prison, and lay there a misrabble captif 
 for 6 mortial weeks. Misrabble shall I say ? no, not misrabble 
 altogether ; there was sunlike in the dunjing of the pore pris- 
 ner. I had visitors. A cart used to drive hup to the prizn 
 gates of Saturdays ; a washywoman's cart, with a fat old lady in 
 it, and a young one. Who was that young one? Every one 
 who has an art can gess, it was my blue-eyed blushing hangel 
 of a Mary Hann ! ' Shall we take him out in the linnen-bas- 
 ket grandmamma ? ' Mary Hann said. Bless her, she'd al- 
 
a JEAMES DE LA P LUC HE, 
 
 127 
 
 ready learned to say grandmamma quite natral ; but I didn't 
 go out that way ; I went out by the door a whitewashed man. 
 Ho, what a feast there was at Healing the day I came out ! 
 I'd thirteen shillings left when I bought the gold ring. I wasn't 
 prowd. I turned the mangle for three weeks \ and then Uncle 
 Bill said, ■ Well, there is some good in the feller ; ' and it was 
 agreed that we should marry." 
 
 The Plush manuscript finishes here : it is many weeks since 
 we saw the accomplished writer, and we have only just learned 
 his fate. We are happy to state that it is a comfortable and 
 almost a prosperous one. 
 
 The Honorable and Right Reverend Lionel Thistlewood, 
 Lord Bishop of Bullocksmithy, was mentioned as the uncle 
 of Lady Angelina Silvertop. Her elopement with her cousin 
 caused deep emotion to the venerable prelate : he returned to 
 the palace at Bullocksmithy, of which he had been for thirty 
 years the episcopal ornament, and where he married three 
 wives, who lie buried in his Cathedral Church of St. Boniface, 
 Bullocksmithy. 
 
 The admirable man has rejoined those whom he loved. As 
 he was preparing a charge to his clergy in his study after 
 dinner, the Lord Bishop fell suddenly down in a fit of apoplexy ; 
 his butler, bringing in his accustomed dish of devilled kidneys 
 for supper, discovered the venerable form extended on the 
 Turkey carpet with a glass of Madeira in his hand ; but life 
 was extinct : and surgical aid was therefore not particularly 
 useful. 
 
 All the late prelate's wives had fortunes, which the admirable 
 man increased by thrift, the judicious sale of leases which fell 
 in during his episcopacy, &c. He left three hundred thousand 
 pounds — divided between his nephew and niece — not a greater 
 sum than has been left by several deceased Irish prelates. 
 
 What Lord Southdown has done with his share we are not 
 called upon to state. He has composed an epitaph to the 
 Martyr of Bullocksmithy, which does him infinite credit. But 
 we are happy to state that Lady Angelina Silvertop presented 
 five hundred pounds to her faithful and affectionate 1 ervant, 
 Mary Ann Hoggins, on her marriage with Mr. James Plush, to 
 whom her Ladyship also made a handsome present — namely, 
 the lease, good-will, and fixtures of the " W T heel of Fortune " 
 public-house, near Shepherd's Market, May Fair : a house 
 greatly frequented by all the nobility's footmen, doing a genteel 
 stroke of business in the neighborhood, and where, as we have 
 heard, the " Butler s Club " is held. 
 
I2 8 THE DIARY OF C. JEAMES DE LA P LUC HE. 
 
 Here Mr. Plush lives happy in a blooming and interesting 
 wife : reconciled to a middle sphere of life, as he was to a 
 humbler and a higher one before. He has shaved off his 
 whiskers, and accommodates himself to an apron with perfect 
 good-humor. A gentleman connected with this establishment 
 dined at the " Wheel of Fortune " the other day, and collected 
 the above particulars. Mr. Plush blushed rather, as he brought . 
 in o the first dish, and told his story very modestly over a pint 
 of excellent port. He had only one thing in life to complain 
 of, he said — that a witless version of his adventures had been 
 produced at the Princess's theatre, " without with your leaf or 
 by your leaf," as he expressed it. " Has for the rest/' the 
 worthy fellow said, " I'm appy — praps betwixt you and me I'm 
 in my proper spear. I enjy my glass of beer or port (with 
 your elth & my suvvice to you, sir,) quite as much as my clarrit 
 in my prawsprus days. I've a good busniss, which is likely to 
 be better. If a man can't be appy with such a wife as my 
 Mary Hann, he's a beest ; and when a christning takes place 
 in our family, will you give my compliments to Mr. Punch and 
 ask him to be godfather." 
 
LETTERS OF JEAMES. 
 
 JEAMES ON TIME BARGINGS. 
 
 Peraps at this present momink of Railway Hagetation and 
 unsafety the following little istory of a young friend of mine 
 may hact as an olesome warning to hother week and hirresolute 
 young gents. 
 
 " Young Frederick Timmins was the horphan son of a 
 respectable cludgyman in the West of Hengland. Hadopted 
 by his uncle, Colonel T , of the Hoss-Mareens, and regard- 
 less of expence, this young man was sent to Heaton Collidge, 
 and subsiquintly to Hoxford, where he was very nearly being 
 Senior Rangier. He came to London to study for the lor. 
 His prospix was bright indead ; and He lived in a secknd flore 
 in Jerming Street, having a ginteal inkum of two hundred lbs. 
 per hannum. 
 
 " With this andsum enuity it may be supposed that Fred- 
 erick wanted for nothink. Nor did he. He was a moral and 
 well-educated young man, who took care of his close ; pollisht 
 his hone tea-party boots * cleaned his kidd-gloves with injer 
 rubber; and, when not invited to dine out, took his meals 
 reglar at the Hoxford and Cambridge Club — where (unless 
 somebody treated him) he was nev^r known to igseed his alf- 
 pint of Marsally Wine. 
 
 " Merrits and vuttues such as his coodnt long pass unper- 
 seavd in the world. Admitted to the most fashnabble parties, 
 it wasn't long befor sevral of the young ladies viewed him with 
 a favorable i \ one, ixpecially, the lovely Miss Hemily Mullig- 
 atawney, daughter of the Heast-Injar Derector of that name. 
 As she was the richest gal of all the season, of corse Frederick 
 fell in love with her. His haspirations were on the pint of 
 being crowndid with success ; and it was agreed that as soon 
 as he was called to the bar, when he would sutnly be apinted 
 a Judge, or a revising barrister, or Lord Chanslor, he should 
 lead her to the halter. 
 
 (129) 
 
LETTERS OF JEAMES. 
 
 "What life could be more desirable than Frederick's? . He 
 gave up his mornings to perfeshnl studdy, under Mr. Bluebag, 
 the heminent pleader ; he devoted his hevenings to helegant 
 sosiaty at his Clubb, or with his hadord Hemily. He had no 
 cares ; no detts ; no egstravigancies ; he never was known to 
 ride in a cabb, unless one of his tip-top friends lent it him ; to 
 go to a theayter unless he got a horder ; or to henter a tavern 
 or smoke a cigar. If prosperraty was never chocked out, it was 
 for that young man. 
 
 " But suckmstances arose. Fatle suckmstances for pore 
 Frederick Timmins. The Railway Hoperations began. 
 
 " For some linn, immerst in lor and love, in the hardent 
 hoccupations of his cheembers, or the sweet sosiaty of his 
 Hemily, Frederick took no note of railroads. He did not 
 reckonize the jigantic revalution which with hiron strides was 
 a walkin over the country. But they began to be talked of 
 even in his quiat haunts. Heven in the Hoxford and Cam- 
 bridge Clubb, fellers were a speculatin. Tom Thumper (of 
 Brasen Nose) cleared four thousand lb. ; Bob Bullock (of 
 Hexeter), who had lost all his proppaty gambling, had set 
 himself up again • and Jack Deuceace, who had won it, had 
 won a small istate besides by lucky specklations in the Share 
 Markit. 
 
 " Hevery body won. 'Why shouldn't I ? ' thought pore 
 Fred ; and having saved 100 lb., he began a writin for shares 
 — using, like an ickonominicle feller as he was, the Clubb 
 paper to a prodigious igstent. All the Railroad directors, his 
 friends, helped him to shares — the allotments came tumbling 
 in — he took the primmiums by fifties and hundreds a day. His 
 desk was cramd full of bank notes : his brane world with 
 igsitement. 
 
 " He gave up going to the Temple, and might now be seen 
 hall day about Capel Court. He took no more hinterest in 
 lor • but his whole talk was of railroad lines. His desk at Mr. 
 Bluebag's was filled full of prospectisises, and that legal gent 
 wrote to Fred's uncle, to say he feared he was neglectin his 
 bisniss. 
 
 " Alass ! he was neglectin it, and all his sober and industerous 
 habits. He begann to give dinners, and thought nothin of 
 partys to Greenwich or Richmond. He didn't see his Hemily 
 near so often : although the hawdacious and misguided young 
 man might have done so much more heasiiy now than before : 
 for now he kep a Broom J 
 
 " But there's a tumminus to hevery Railway. Fred's was 
 
JEAMES ON TIME BARGINGS. 
 
 approachin : in an evil hour he began making time-bargings. 
 Let this be a warning to all young fellers, and Fred's huntimely 
 hend hoperate on them in a moral pint of vu ! 
 
 " You all know under what favrabble suckemstanses the 
 Great Hafrican Line, the Grand Niger Junction, or Gold Coast 
 and Timbuctoo (Provishnal) Hatmospheric Railway came out 
 four weeks ago : deposit ninepence per share of 20/. (six 
 elephant's teeth, twelve tons of palm-oil, or four healthy niggers, 
 African currency) — the shares of this helegeble investment 
 rose to 1, 2, 3, in the Markit. A happy man was Fred when, 
 after paying down 100 ninepences (3/. 15^.), he sold his shares 
 for 250/. He gave a dinner at the "Star and Garter" that 
 very day. I promise you there was no Marsally there. 
 
 " Nex day they were up at 3^. This put Fred in a rage : 
 they rose to 5, he was in afewry. ' What an ass I was to sell, 
 said he, ' when all this money was to be won ! ' 
 
 " ' And so you were an Ass,' said his partiklar friend, Col- 
 onel Claw, K. X. R., a director of the line, ' a double-eared Ass. 
 My dear fellow, the shares will be at 15 next week. Will you 
 give me your solemn word of honor not to breathe to mortal 
 man what I am going to tell you ? ' 
 
 " 4 Honor bright,' says Fred. 
 
 " ' Hudson has joined the Line/ Fred didn't say a 
 word more, but went tumbling down to the City in his Broom. 
 You know the state of the streats. Claw went by water. 
 
 " ' Buy me one thousand Hafricans for the 30th,' _ cries 
 Fred, busting into his broker's ; and they were done for him 
 at 4.7/3. 
 
 # m * # # 
 
 " Can't you guess the rest ? Haven't you seen the Share 
 List ? which says : — 
 
 " ' Great Africans, paid qd. ; price }/£ par.' 
 
 " And that's what came of my pore dear friend Timmins's 
 time-barging. 
 
 " What'll become of him I can't say ; for nobody has seen 
 him since. His lodgins in Jerming Street is to let. His brokers 
 in vain deplores his absence. His Uncle has declared his 
 marriage with his housekeeper ; and the Morning Erald (that 
 emusing print) has a paragraf yesterday in the fashnabble news, 
 headed ' Marriage in High Life. — The rich and beautiful Miss 
 Mulligatawney, of Portland Place is to be speedily united to 
 Colonel Claw. K. X. R.' 
 
 " Jeames." 
 
I3 2 LETTERS OF JEAMES* 
 
 JEAMES ON THE GAUGE QUESTION. 
 
 You will scarcely praps reckonize in this little skitch the 
 haltered liniments of i, with woos face the reders of your 
 valluble mislny were once fimiliar, — the unfortnt Jeames de la 
 Pluche, fomly so selabrated in the fashnabble suckles, now the 
 pore Jeames Plush, landlord of the " Wheel of Fortune " public 
 house. Yes, that is me ; that is my haypun which I wear as 
 becomes a publican — those is the checkers which hornyment the 
 pillows of my dor. I am like the Roman Genral, St. Cenatus, 
 equal to any emudgency of Fortun. I, who have drunk Sham- 
 pang in my time, aint now abov droring a \ pint of Small 
 Bier. As for my wife — that Angel — I've not ventured to depigt 
 her. Fansy her a sittn in the Bar, smilin like a sunflower — and, 
 ho, dear Punch ! happy in missing a deer little darlint totsy- 
 wotsy of a Jeames, with my air to a curl, and my i's to a T ! 
 
 " I never thought I should have been injuiced to write any- 
 thing but a Bill agin, much less to edress you on Railway Sub- 
 jix — which with all my .sole I abaw. Railway letters, obbigations 
 to pay hup, ginteal inquirys as to my Salissator's name, &c, 
 &c., I dispize and scorn artily. But as a man, an usbnd, a 
 father, and a freebon Brittn, my jewty compels me to come for- 
 woocls, and igspress my opinion upon that nashnal newsance — 
 the break of Gage. 
 
 " An enteresting ewent in a noble family with which I once 
 very nearly had the honer of being kinected, acurd a few weex 
 
 sins, when the Lady Angelina S , daughter of the Earl of 
 
 B cres, presented the gallant Capting, her usband, with a 
 
 Son & hair. Nothink would satasfy her Ladyship but that her 
 old and attacht famdyshamber, my wife Mary Hann Plush, 
 
 should be presnt upon this hospicious occasion. Capting S • 
 
 was not jellus of me on account of my former attachment to his 
 Lady. I cunsented that my Mary Hann should attend her, 
 and me, my wife, and our dear babby acawdingly set out for our 
 noable frend's residence, Honeymoon Lodge, near Cheltenham. 
 
 " Sick of all Railroads myself, I wisht to poast it in a Chay 
 and 4, but Mary Hann, with the hobstenacy of her Sex, was 
 bent upon Railroad travelling, and I yealded, like all husbinds. 
 We set out by the Great Westn, in an eavle Hour. 
 
 "We didnt take much luggitch — my wife's things in the 
 ushal bandboxes — mine in a potmancho. Our dear little James 
 
JEAMES ON THE GAUGE QUESTION. ^3 
 
 Angelo's (called so in complament to his noble Godmamma) 
 craddle, and a small supply of a few 100 weight of Topsan- 
 bawtems, Farinashious food, and Lady's fingers, for that dear 
 child, who is now 6 months old, with a perdidgus appatite. Like- 
 wise we were charged with a bran new Medsan chest for my 
 lady, from Skivary & Morris, containing enough rewbub, 
 Daffy's Alixir, Godfrey's cawdle, with a few score of parsles 
 for Lady Llangelina's family and owsehold ; about 2000 spessy- 
 mins of Babby linning from Mrs. Flummary's in Regent Street, 
 a Chayny Cresning bowl from old Lady Bareacres (big enough 
 to immus a Halderman), & a case marked ' Glass,' from her 
 ladyship's medclicle man, which were stowed away together ; 
 had to this an ormylew Cradle, with rose-colored Satting & Pink 
 lace hangings, held up by a gold tuttle-dove, &c. We had, in- 
 gluding James Llangelo's rattle & my umbrellow, 73 packidges 
 in all. 
 
 " We got on very well as far as Swindon, where, in the 
 Splendid Ref: sh nent room, there was a galaxy of lovely gals 
 in cottn velvet spencers, who serves out the soop, and 1 of whom 
 maid an impresshn upon this Art which I shoodn't like Mary 
 Llann to know — and here, to our infanit disgust, we changed 
 carridges. I forgot to say that we were in the secknd class, 
 having with us James Hangelo, and 23 other light harticles. 
 
 " Fust inconveniance ; and almost as bad as break of gage. 
 I cast my hi upon the gal in cottn velvet, and wanted some 
 soop, of coarse ; but seasing up James Hangelo (who was layin 
 his dear little pors on an Am Sangwidg) and seeing my 
 igspresshn of hi — ' James,' says Mary Hann, ' instead of looking 
 at that young lady — and not so very young, neither — be pleased 
 to look to our packidges, & place them in the other carridge.' 
 I did so with an evy Art. I eranged them 23 articles in the 
 opsit carridg, only missing my umberella & baby's rattle ; and 
 just as I came back for my baysn of soop, the beast of a bell 
 rings, the whizzling injians proclayms the time of our depart- 
 ure. — & farewell soop and cottn velvet. Mary Hann was sulky. 
 She said it was my losing the umberella. If it had been a 
 cotton velvet umberella I could have understood. James Hangelo 
 sittn on my knee was evidently unwell ; without his coral : & 
 for 20 miles that blessid babby kep up a rawring, which caused 
 all the passingers to simpithize with him igseedingly. 
 
 " We arrive at Gloster, and there fansy my disgust at bein 
 ableeged to undergo another change of carridges ! Fancy me 
 holding up moughs, tippits, cloaks, and baskits, and James 
 Hangelo rawring still like mad, and pretending to shuperintend 
 
134 
 
 LETTERS OF JEAMES. 
 
 the carrying over our luggage from the broad gage to the 
 narrow gage. 1 Mary Hann,' says I, rot to desperation, * I 
 shall throttle this darling if he goes on.' ' Do,' says she — ' and 
 go into the refreshment room, says she — a snatchin the babby 
 out of my arms. ' Do go,' says she, 'youre not fit to look after 
 luggage,' and she began lulling James Hangelo to sleep with 
 one hi, while she looked after the packets with the other. ' Now 
 Sir ! if you please, mind that packet ! — pretty darling — easy 
 with that box, Sir, its glass — pooooty poppet — where's the deal 
 case, marked arrowroot, No. 24? 1 she cried, reading out of a 
 list she had. — And poor little James went to sleep. The porters 
 were bundling and carting the various harticles with no more 
 ceremony than if each package had been of cannon-ball. 
 
 " At last — bang goes a package marked 6 Glass,' and con- 
 taining the Chayny bowl and Lady Bareacres' mixture, into a 
 large white bandbox, with a crash and a smash. 4 It's My 
 Lady's box from Crinoline's ! ' cries Mary Hann ; and she puts 
 down the child on the bench, and rushes forward to inspect the 
 dammidge. You could hear the Chayny bowls clinking inside ; 
 and Lady B.'s mixture (which had the igsack smell of cherry 
 brandy) was dribbling out over the smashed bandbox contain- 
 ing a white child's cloak, trimmed with Blown lace and lined 
 with white salting. 
 
 " As James was asleep, and I was by this time uncommon 
 
 hungry, I thought I would go into the Refreshment Room and 
 
 just take a little soup \ so I wrapped him up in his cloak and 
 
 laid him by his mamma, and went off. There's not near such 
 
 good attendance as at Swindon. 
 
 # # # * # * * 
 
 " We took our places in the carriage in the dark, both of us 
 covered with a pile of packages, and Mary Hann so sulky that 
 she would not speak for some minutes. At last she spoke 
 out — 
 
 " 4 Have you all the small parcels - ? 
 " ' Twenty-three in all,' says L 
 • " 1 Then give me the baby.' 
 " ' Give you what ? ' says h 
 " 4 Give me the baby.' 
 
 " ' What, haven't y-y-yoooo got him ? ' says I. 
 
 •Jr ^ 
 
 " O Mussy ! You should have heard her sreak ! We'd left 
 him oil the ledge at Gloster. 
 
 " It all came of the break of gage." 
 
MR. JEAMES AGAIN. 
 
 MR. JEAMES AGAIN. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Punch, — As newmarus inquiries have been 
 maid both at my privit ressddence, ' The Wheel of Fortune 
 Otel,' and at your Hoffis, regarding the fate of that dear babby, 
 James Hangelo, whose primmiture dissappearnts caused such 
 hagnies to his distracted parents, I must begg, dear sir, the 
 permission to ockupy a part of your valuble collams once more, 
 and hease the public mind about my blessid boy. 
 
 " Wictims of that nashnal cuss, the Broken Gage, me and 
 Mrs. Plush was left in the train to Cheltenham, soughring from 
 that most disagreeble of complaints, a halmost broken Art. The 
 skreems of Mrs. Jeames might be said almost to out-Y the 
 squeel of the dying, as we rusht into that fashnable Spaw, and 
 my pore Mary Hann found it was not Baby, but Bundles I had 
 in my lapp. 
 
 " When the Old Dowidger Lady Bareacres, who was waiting 
 heagerly at the train, herd that owing to that abawminable 
 brake of Gage the luggitch, her Ladyship's Cherrybrandy box, 
 the cradle for Lady Hangelina's baby, the lace, crockary and 
 chany, was rejuiced to one immortial smash ; the old cat howld 
 at me and pore dear Mary Hann, as if it was huss, and not the 
 infunnle Brake of Gage, was to blame ; and as if we ad no 
 misfortns of our hown to deplaw. She bust out about my 
 stupid imparence ; called Mary Hann a good for nothink 
 creecher, and wep, and abewsd, and took on about her broken 
 Chayny Bowl, a great deal more than she did about a dear little 
 Christian child. ' Don't talk to me abowt your bratt of a 
 babby' (seshe) ; ' where's my bowl ? — where's my bewtifHe Pint 
 lace? — All in re wins through your stupiddaty, you brute, 
 you ! 9 
 
 " ' Bring your haction against the Great Western, Maam,' 
 says I, quite riled by this crewel and unfealing hold wixen. 
 4 Ask the pawters at Gloster, why your goods is spiled — it's not 
 the first time theyve been asked the question. Git the gage 
 haltered against the next time you send for medsan — and mean- 
 wild buy some at the " Plow " — they keep it very good and 
 strong there, I'll be bound. Has for us, we're going back to 
 the cussid station at Gloster, in such of our blessid child.' 
 
 " ' You don't mean to say, young woman,' seshe, ' that 
 you're not going to Lady Hangelina : what's her dear boy to 
 do ? who's to nuss it ? ' 
 
136 
 
 LETTERS OF JEAMES. 
 
 " 1 You nuss it, Maam,' says I. * Me and Mary Hann 
 return this momint by the Fly.' And so (whishing her a 
 suckastic ajew) Mrs. Jeames and I lep into a one oss weakle, 
 and told the driver to go like mad back to Gloster. 
 
 " I can't describe my pore gals hagny juring our ride. She 
 sat in the carridge as silent as a milestone, and as madd as a 
 march Air. When we got to Gloster she sprang hout of it as 
 wild as a Tigris, and rusht to the station, up to the fatle 
 Bench. 
 
 " ' My child, my child,' shreex she, in a hoss, hot voice. 
 4 Where's my infant ? a little bewtifle child, with blue eyes, — 
 dear Mr. Policeman, give it me — a thousand guineas for it.' 
 
 " 4 Faix, Mam,' says the man, a Hirishman, 4 and the divvle 
 a babby have I seen this day except thirteen of my own — and 
 you're welcome to any one of //iem, and kindly.' 
 
 " 4 As if his babby was equal to ours,' as my darling Mary 
 Hann said, afterwards. All the station was scrouging round 
 us by this time — pawters & clarx and refreshmint people and 
 all. 4 What's this year row about that there babby ? ' at last 
 says the Inspector, stepping hup. I thought my wife was 
 going to jump into his harms. 4 Have you got him ?•' says she. 
 
 " 4 Was it a child in a blue cloak ? ' says he. 
 
 " 4 And blue eyes ! ' says my wife. 
 
 " ' I put a label on him and sent him on to Bristol ; he's 
 there by this time. The Guard of the Mail took him and put 
 him into a letter-box,' says he : 4 he went 20 minutes ago. We 
 found him on the broad gauge line, and sent him on by it, in 
 course,' says he. 4 And it'll be a caution to you, young woman, 
 for the future, to label your children* along with the rest of 
 your luggage.' 
 
 " If my piguniary means had been such as once they was, 
 you may emadgine I'd have ad a speshle train and been hoff 
 like smoak. As it was, we was obliged to wait 4 mortial hours 
 for the next train (4 ears they seemed to us), and then away 
 we went. 
 
 " 4 My boy ! my little boy ! ' says poor choking Mary Hann, 
 when we got there. * A parcel in a blue cloak ? ' says the man. 
 4 No body claimed him here, and so we sent him back by the 
 mail. An Irish nurse here gave him some supper, and he's at 
 Paddington by this time. Yes,' says he, looking at the clock, 
 4 he's been there these ten minutes.' 
 
 44 But seeing my poor wife's distracted histarricle state, this 
 good-naterd man says, 4 1 think, my dear, there's a way to ease 
 your mind. We'll know in five minutes how he is.' 
 
MR. JEAMES AGAIN. 
 
 *37 
 
 " ' Sir,' says she, ' don't make sport of me.' 
 a 'No, my dear, we'll telegraph him.' 
 
 " And he began hopparating on that singlar and ingenus 
 elecktricle inwention, which aniliates time, and carries intella- 
 gence in the twinkling of a peg-post. 
 
 " 'I'll ask,' says he, 'for child marked G. W. 273/ 
 
 " Back comes the telegraph with the sign ' All right.' 
 
 " ' Ask what he's doing, sir,' says my wife, quite amazed. 
 Back comes the answer in a Jiffy — 
 
 " ' C. R. Y. I. N. G.' 
 
 " This caused all the bystanders to laugh excep my pore 
 Mary Hann, who pull'd a very sad face. 
 
 " The good-naterd feller presently said, ' he'd have another 
 trile ; ' and what d'ye think was the answer ? I'm blest if it 
 wasn't — 
 
 " ' P. A. P.' 
 
 " He was eating pap ! There's for you — there's a rogue 
 for you — there's a March of Intaleck ! Mary Hann smiled now 
 for the fust time. ' He'll sleep now,' says she. And she sat 
 down with a full hart. * * # # 
 
 " If hever that good-naterd Shooperintendent comes to 
 London, he need never ask for his skore at the ' Wheel of 
 Fortune Otel,' I promise you — where me and my wife and 
 James Hangelo now is ; and where only yesterday a gent came 
 in and drew a pictur of us in our bar. 
 
 " And if they go on breaking gages ; and if the child, the / 
 most precious luggidge of the Henglishman, is to be bundled 
 about this year way, why it won't be for want of warning, both 
 from Professor Harris, the Commission, and from 
 
 " My dear Mr. Punch's obeajent servant, 
 
 Jeames Plush.' 
 
THE 
 
 TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 MAJOR GAHAGAN 
 
THE 
 
 TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 "truth is strange, stranger than fiction." 
 
 I think it but right that in making my appearance before 
 the public I should at once acquaint them with my titles and 
 name. My card, as I leave it at the houses of the nobility, my 
 friends, is as follows : — 
 
 MAJOR GOLIAH O" GRADY GAHAGAN, H.E.I.C.S., 
 
 Commanding Battalion of 
 
 Irregular Horse, 
 AHMEDNUGGAR. 
 
 Seeing, I say, this simple visiting ticket, the world will avoid 
 any of those awkward mistakes as to my person, which have 
 been so frequent of late. There has been no end to the blun- 
 ders regarding this humble title of mine, and the confusion 
 thereby created. When I published my volume of poems, for 
 instance, the Morning Post newspaper remarked " that the 
 Lyrics of the Heart, by Miss Gahagan, may be ranked among 
 the sweetest rlowrets of the present spring season." The 
 
142 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 Quarterly Review, commenting upon my " Observations on the 
 Pons Asinorum" (4to. London, 1836), called me "Doctor 
 Gahagan," and so on. It was time to put an end to these mis- 
 takes, and I have taken the above simple remedy. 
 
 I was urged to it by a very exalted personage. Dining in 
 August last at the palace of the T — lr-es at Paris, the lovely 
 young Duch-ss of Orl — ns (who, though she does not speak 
 English, understands it as well as I do), said to me in the 
 softest Teutonic, " Lieber Herr Major, haben sie den Abmed- 
 nuggarischen-jager-battalion gelassen ? n " Warum denn ? " 
 
 said I, quite astonished at her R — 1 H ss's question. The 
 
 P — cess then spoke of some trifle from my pen, which was 
 simply signed Goliah Gahagan. 
 
 There was, unluckily, a dead silence as H. R. H. put this 
 question. 
 
 " Comment done ? " said H. M. Lo-is Ph-l-ppe, looking 
 gravely at Count Mole ; " le cher Major a quitte l'armee ! 
 
 Nicolas done sera maitre de lTnde ! " H. M and the Pr. 
 
 M-n-ster pursued their conversation in a low tone, and left me, 
 as may be imagined, in a dreadful state of confusion. I blushed 
 and stuttered, and murmured out a few incoherent words to ex- 
 plain — but it would not do — I could not recover my equanimity 
 during the course of the dinner ; and while endeavoring to help 
 an English duke, my neighbor, to poulet a T Austerlitz, fairly sent 
 seven mushrooms and three large greasy crotites over his whisk- 
 ers and shirt-frill. Another laugh at my expense. " Ah ! M. 
 
 le Major," said the Q of the B-lg — ns, archly, " vous 
 
 n'aurez jamais votre brevet de Colonel." Her M y's joke 
 
 will be better understood when I state that his Grace is the 
 brother of a Minister. 
 
 I am not at liberty to violate the sanctity of private life, by 
 mentioning the names of the parties concerned in this little 
 anecdote. I only wish to have it understood that I am a gentle- 
 man, and live at least in decent societv. Verbum sat. 
 
 But to be serious. I am obliged always to write the name 
 of Goliah in full, to distinguish me from my brother, Gregory 
 Gahagan, who was also a Major (in the King's service), and 
 whom I killed in a duel, as the public most likely knows. Poor 
 Greg ! a very trivial dispute was the cause of our quarrel, which 
 never would have originated but for the similarity of our names. 
 The circumstance was this : I had been lucky enough to render 
 the Nawaub of Lucknow some trifling service (in the notorious 
 affair of Choprasjee Muckjee), and his Highness sent down a 
 gold toothpick-case directed to Captain G. Gahagan, which I 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 *43 
 
 of course thought was for me : my brother madly claimed it ; 
 we fought, and the consequence was, that in about three min- 
 utes he received a slash on the right side (cut 6), which effectu- 
 ally did his business : — he was a good swordsman enough — I 
 was the best in the universe. The most ridiculous part of the 
 affair is, that the toothpick-case was his after all — he had left 
 it on the Nawaub's table at tiffin. I can't conceive what mad- 
 ness prompted him to fight about such a paltry bauble \ he had 
 much better have yielded it at once, when he saw I was de- 
 termined to have it. From this slight specimen of my adven- 
 tures, the reader will perceive that my life has been one of 
 no ordinary interest ; and, in fact, I may say that I have led a 
 more remarkable life than any man in the service — I have been 
 at more pitched battles, led more forlorn hopes, had more suc- 
 cess among the fair sex, drunk harder, read more, and been a 
 handsomer man than any officer now serving her Majesty. 
 
 When I first went to India in 1802, I was a raw cornet of 
 seventeen, with blazing red hair, six feet four in height, athletic 
 at all kinds of exercises, owing money to my tailor and every- 
 body else who would trust me, possessing an Irish brogue, and 
 my full pay of 120/. a year. I need not say that with all these 
 advantages I did that which a number of clever fellows have 
 done before me — I fell in love, and proposed to marry im- 
 mediately. 
 
 But how to overcome the difficulty ? — It is true that I loved 
 Julia Jowler — loved her to madness ; but her father intended 
 her for a Member of Council at least, and not for a beggarly 
 Irish ensign. It was, however, 'my fate to make the passage to 
 India (on board of the " Samuel Snob " East Indiaman, Cap- 
 tain Duffy,) with this lovely creature, and my misfortune in- 
 stantaneously to fall in love with her. We were not out of the 
 Channel before I adored her, worshipped the deck which she 
 trod upon, kissed a thousand times the cuddy-chair on which 
 she used to sit. The same madness fell on every man in the 
 ship. The two mates fought about her at the Cape ; the sur- 
 geon, a sober, pious Scotchman, from disappointed affection, 
 took so dreadfully to drinking as to threaten spontaneous com- 
 bustion ; and old Colonel Lilywhite, carrying his wife and seven 
 daughters to Bengal, swore that he would have a divorce from 
 Mrs. L., and made an attempt at suicide ; the captain himself 
 told me, with tears in his eyes, that he hated his hitherto- 
 adored Mrs. Duffy, although he had had nineteen children by 
 her. 
 
 We used to call her the witch — there was magic in hef 
 
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 beauty and in her voice. I was spell-bound when I looked at 
 her, and stark staring mad when she looked at me ! O lustrous 
 black eyes ! — O glossy night-black ringlets ! — O lips ! — O dainty 
 frocks of white muslin ! — O tiny kid slippers ? — though old and 
 gouty, Gahagan sees you still ! I recollect, off Ascension, she 
 looked at me in her particular way one day at dinner, just as I 
 happened to be blowing on a piece of scalding hot green fat. 
 I was stupefied at once — I thrust the entire morsel (about half 
 a pound) into my mouth. I made no attempt to swallow, or to 
 masticate it, but left it there for many minutes, burning, burn- 
 ing ! I had no skin to my palate for seven weeks after, and 
 lived on rice-water during the rest of the voyage. The anecdote 
 is trivial, but it shows the power of Julia Jowler over me. 
 
 The writers of marine novels have so exhausted the subject 
 of storms, shipwrecks, mutinies, engagements, sea-sickness, and 
 co forth, that (although I have experienced each of these in 
 many varieties) I think it quite unnecessary to recount such 
 trifling adventures ; suffice it to say, that during our five 
 months' trajet, my mad passion for Julia daily increased ; so 
 did Colonel Lilywhite's ; so did the doctor's, the mate's — that 
 of most part of the passerfgers, and a considerable number of 
 the crew. For myself, I swore — ensign as I was — I would win 
 her for my wife 5 I vowed that I would make her glorious with 
 my sword — that as soon as I had made a favorable impres- 
 sion on my commanding officer (which I did not doubt to 
 create), I would lay open to him the state of my affections, and 
 demand his daughter's hand. With such sentimental outpour- 
 ings did our voyage continue and conclude. 
 
 We landed at the Sunderbunds on a grilling hot day in 
 December, 1802, and then for the moment Julia and I separated. 
 She was carried off to her papa's arms in a palankeen, sur- 
 rounded by at least forty hookahbadars ; whilst the poor cc r let, 
 attended but by two dandies and a solitary beasty (by which 
 unnatural name these blackamoors are called), made his way 
 humbly to join the regiment at head-quarters. 
 
 The — th Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, then under the 
 command of Lieut.-Colonel Julius Jowler, C. B., was known 
 throughout Asia and Europe by the proud title of the Bundel- 
 cund Invincibles — so great was its character for bravery, so 
 remarkable were its services in that delightful district of India. 
 Major Sir George Gutch was next in command, and Tom 
 Thrupp, as kind a fellow as ever ran a Mahratta through the 
 body, was second Major. We were on the eve of that remark- 
 able war which was speedily to spread throughout the whole of 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 
 
 *45 
 
 India, to call forth the valor of a Wellesley, and the indomitable 
 gallantry of a Gahagan • which was illustrated by our victories 
 at Ahmednuggar (where I was the first over the barricade at 
 the storming of the Pettah) ; at Arnaum, where I slew with my 
 own sword twenty-three matchlock-men, and cut a dromedary 
 in two ; and by that terrible day of Assaye, where Wellesley 
 would have been beaten but for me — me alone : I headed nine- 
 teen charges of cavalry, took (aided by only four men of my 
 own troop) seventeen field-pieces, killing the scoundrelly 
 French artillerymen ; on that day I had eleven elephants shot 
 under me, and carried away Scindiah's nose-ring with a pistol- 
 ball. Wellesley is a Duke and a Marshal, I -but a simple Major 
 of Irregulars. Such is fortune and war ! But my feelings carry 
 me away from my narrative, which had better proceed with 
 more order. 
 
 On arriving, I say, at our barracks at Dum Dum, I for the 
 first time put on the beautiful uniform of the Invincibles : a 
 light-blue swallow-tailed jacket with silver lace and wings, orna- 
 mented with about 3,000 sugar-loaf buttons, rhubarb-colored 
 leather inexpressibles (tights), and red morocco boots with 
 silver spurs and tassels, set off to admiration the handsome 
 persons of the officers of our corps. We wore powder in those 
 days • and a regulation pigtail of seventeen inches, a brass 
 helmet surrounded by leopard-skin, with a bearskin top and a 
 horsetail feather, gave the head a fierce and chivalrous appear- 
 ance, which is far more easily imagined than described. 
 
 Attired in this magnificent costume, I first presented myself 
 before Colonel Jowder. He was habited in a manner precisely 
 similar, but not being more than five feet in height, and weigh- 
 ing at least fifteen stone, the dress he wore did not become him 
 quite so much as slimmer and taller men. Flanked by his 
 tall Majors, Thrapp and Gutch, he looked like a stumpy skittle- 
 ball between two attenuated skittles. The plump little Colonel 
 received me with vast cordiality, and I speedily became a prime 
 favorite with himself and the other officers of the corps. 
 Jowler was the most hospitable of men ; and gratifying my ap- 
 petite and my love together, I continually partook of his din- 
 ners, and feasted on the sweet presence of Julia. 
 
 I can see now, what I would not and could not perceive in 
 those early days, that this Miss Jowler — on whom I had 
 lavished my first and warmest love, whom I had endowed with 
 all perfection and purity — was no better than a little impudent 
 flirt, who played with my feelings, because during the monotony 
 of a sea-voyage she had no other toy to play with ; and who 
 
146 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 deserted others for me, and me for others, just as her whim ol 
 her interest might guide her. She had not been three weeks 
 at head-quarters w r hen half the regiment was in love with her. 
 Each and all of the candidates had some favor to boast of, or 
 some encouraging hopes on which to build. It was the scene 
 of the " Samuel Snob " over again, only heightened in interest 
 by a number of duels. The following list will give the reader 
 a notion of some of them : — 
 
 1. Cornet Gahagan Ensign Hicks, of the Sappers and Miners. 
 
 Hicks received a ball in his jaw, and was 
 half choked by a quantity of carroty 
 whisker forced down his throat with the 
 ball. 
 
 2. Capt. Macgilli cuddy, B. N. I Cornet Gahagan. I was run through the 
 
 body, but the sword passed between the 
 ribs, and injured me very slightly. 
 
 3. Capt. Macgillicuddy, B. N.I Mr. Mulligatawny, B. C. S., Deputy-As- 
 
 sistant Vice Sub-Controller of the Bog- 
 gley wollah Indigo grounds, Ramgolly 
 branch. 
 
 Macgillicuddy should have stuck to sword's-play, and he might 
 have come off his second duel as well as in his first ; as it was, 
 the civilian placed a ball and a part of Mac's gold repeater in 
 his stomach. A remarkable circumstance attended this shot, 
 an account of which I sent home to the " Philosophical Trans- 
 actions : " the surgeon had extracted the ball, and was going 
 off, thinking that all was well, when the gold repeater struck 
 thirteen in poor Macgillicuddy's abdomen. I suppose that the 
 works must have been disarranged in some way by the bullet, 
 for the repeater was one of Barraud's, never known to fail be- 
 forehand the circumstance occurred at seven o'clock.* 
 
 I could continue, almost ad infinitum, an account of the wars 
 which this Helen occasioned, but the above three specimens 
 will, I should think, satisfy the peaceful reader. I delight not in 
 scenes of blood, heaven knows, but I was compelled in the 
 course of a few weeks, and for the sake of this one woman, to 
 fight nine duels myself, and I know that four times as many 
 more took place concerning her. 
 
 I forgot to say that Jowler's wife was a half-caste woman, 
 who had been born and bred entirely in India, and whom the 
 
 * So admirable are the performances of these watches, which will stand in any climate, 
 that I repeatedly heard poor Macgillicuddy relate the following fact. The hours, as it is 
 known, count in Italy from one to twenty-four : the day Mac landed at Naples his re~ 
 peater rung the Italian hours, from one to twenty -four ; as soon as he crossed the Alps 
 it only sounded as usual. — G. O'G. G. 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 147 
 
 Colonel had married from the house of her mother, a native. 
 There were some singular rumors abroad regarding this lady's 
 history : it was reported that she was the daughter of a native 
 Rajah, and had been carried off by a poor English subaltern 
 in Lord Clive's time. The young man was killed very soon 
 after, and left his child with its mother. The black Prince 
 forgave his daughter and bequeathed to her a handsome sum 
 of money. I suppose that it was on this account that Jowler 
 married Mrs. J., a creature who had not, I do believe, a Chris- 
 tian name, or a single Christian quality :• she was a hideous, 
 bloated, yellow creature, with a beard, black teeth, and red 
 eyes : she was fat, lying, ugly, and stingy — she hated and was 
 hated by all the world, and by her jolly husband as devoutly 
 as by any other. She did not pass a month in the year with 
 him, but spent most of her time with her native friends. I 
 wonder how she could have given birth to so lovely a creature 
 as her daughter. This woman was of course with the Colonel 
 when Julia arrived, and the spice of the devil in her daughter's 
 composition was most carefully nourished and fed by her. If 
 Julia had been a flirt before, she was a downright jilt now ; she 
 set the whole cantonment by the ears ; she made wives jealous 
 and husbands miserable ; she caused all those duels of which 
 I have discoursed already, and yet such was the fascination of 
 the witch that I still thought her an angel. I made court to 
 the nasty mother in order to be near the daughter ; and I 
 listened untiringly to Jowler's interminable dull stories, because 
 I was occupied all the time in watching the graceful movements 
 of Miss Julia. 
 
 But the trumpet of war was soon ringing in our ears ; and on 
 the battle-field Gahagan is a man ! The Bundelcund Invinci- 
 bles received orders to march, and Jowler, Hector like, donned 
 his helmet and prepared to part from his Andromache. And 
 now arose his perplexity : what must be done with his daughter, 
 his Julia ? He knew his wife's peculiarities of living, and did 
 not much care to trust his daughter to her keeping ; but in 
 vain he tried to find her an asylum among the respectable 
 ladies of his regiment. Lady Gutch offered to receive her, but 
 would have nothing to do with Mrs. Jowler ; the surgeon's 
 wife, Mrs. Sawbone, would have neither mother nor daughter ; 
 there was no help for it, Julia and her mother must have a 
 house together, and Jowler knew that his wife would fill it with 
 her odious blackamoor friends. 
 
 I could not, however, go forth satisfied to the campaign until 
 I learned from Julia my fate. I watched twenty opportunities 
 
I4 8 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 to see her alone, and wandered about the Colonel's bungalow 
 as an informer does about a public house, marking the in- 
 comings and the outgoings of the family, and longing to seize 
 the moment when Miss jowler, unbiassed by her mother or her 
 papa, might listen, perhaps, to my eloquence, and melt at the 
 tale of my love. 
 
 But it would not do — old Jowler seemed to have taken all 
 of a sudden to such a fit of domesticity, that there was no 
 finding him out of doors, and his rhubarb-colored wife (I 
 believe that her skin gave the first idea of our regimental 
 breeches), who before had been gadding ceaselessly abroad, 
 and poking her broad nose into every rnenage in the canton- 
 ment, stopped faithfully at home with her spouse. My only 
 chance was to beard the old couple in their den, and ask them 
 at once for their cub. 
 
 So I called one day at tiffin : — old Jowler was always happy 
 to have my company at this meal ; it amused him, he said, to 
 see me drink Hodgson's pale ale (I drank two hundred and 
 thirty-four dozen the first year I was in Bengal) — and it was 
 no small piece of fun, certainly, to see old Mrs. Jowler attack 
 the currie-bhaut ; — she was exactly the color of it, as I have had 
 already the honor to remark, and she swallowed the mixture 
 with a gusto which was never equalled, except by my poor 
 friend Dando a propos d'huitres. She consumed the first three 
 platefuls with a fork and spoon, like a Christian ; but as she 
 warmed to her work, the old hag would throw away her silver 
 implements, and dragging the dishes towards her, go to work 
 with her hands, flip the rice into her mouth with her fingers, 
 and stow away a quantity of eatables sufficient for a sepoy 
 company. But why do I diverge from the main point of my 
 story ? 
 
 Julia, then, Jowler, and Mrs. J., were at luncheon : the dear 
 girl was in the act to sabler a glass of Hodgson as I entered. 
 " How do you do, Mr. Gagin ? " said the old hag, leeringly. 
 " Eat, a bit of currie-bhaut," — and she thrust the dish towards 
 me, securing a heap as it passed. " What ! Gagy my boy, how 
 do, how do ? " said the fat Colonel. "What ! run through the 
 body ? — got well again — have some Hodgson — run through 
 your body too ! " — and at this, I may say, coarse joke (alluding 
 to the fact in these hot climates the ale oozes out as it were 
 from the pores of the skin) old Jowler laughed : a host of 
 swarthy chopdars, kitmatgars, sices, consomahs, and bobbychies 
 laughed too, as they provided me, unasked, with the grateful 
 fluid. Swallowing six tumblers of it, I paused nervously for a 
 moment, and then said — 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN, 
 
 149 
 
 " Bobbachy, consomah, ballybaloo hoga." 
 
 The black ruffians took the hint, and retired. 
 
 " Colonel and Mrs. Jowler," said I solemnly, "we are 
 alone ; and you, Miss Jowler, you are alone too ; that is — I 
 mean — I take this opportunity to — (another glass of ale, if you 
 please,) — to express, once for all, before departing on a dan- 
 gerous campaign " — (Julia turned pale) — " before entering, I 
 say, upon a war which may stretch in the dust my high-raised 
 hopes and me, to express my hopes while life still remains to 
 me, and to declare in the face of heaven, earth, and Colonel 
 Jowler, that I love you, Julia ! " The Colonel, astonished, let 
 fall a steel fork, which stuck quivering for some minutes in the 
 calf of my leg; but I heeded not the paltry interruption. 
 " Yes, by yon bright heaven," continued I, " I love you, Julia ! 
 I respect my commander, I esteem your excellent and beaute- 
 ous mother ; tell me, before I leave you, if I may hope for a 
 return of my affection. Say that you love me, and I will do 
 such deeds in this coming war, as shall make you proud of the 
 name of your Gahagan." 
 
 The old woman, as I delivered these touching words, stared, 
 snapped and ground her teeth, like an enraged monkey. Julia 
 was now red, now white ; the Colonel stretched forward, took 
 the fork out of the calf of my leg, wiped it, and then seized a 
 bundle of letters which I had remarked by his side. 
 
 " A cornet ! " said he, in a voice choking with emotion ; " a 
 pitiful, beggarly Irish cornet aspire to the hand of Julia Jowler ! 
 Gag — Gahagan, are you mad, or laughing at us ? Look at 
 these letters, young man — at these letters, I say — one hundred 
 and twenty-four epistles from every part of India (not including 
 one from the Governor-General, and six from his brother, Col- 
 onel Wellesley,) — one hundred and twenty-four proposals for 
 the hand of Miss Jowler ! Cornet Gahagan," he continued, 
 " I wish to think well of you : you are the bravest, the most 
 modest, and, perhaps, the handsomest man in our corps ; but 
 you have not got a single rupee. You ask me for Julia, and 
 you do not possess even an anna ! " — (Here the old rogue 
 grinned, as if he had made a capital pun.) — "No, no," said he, 
 waxing good-natured ; " Gagy my boy, it is nonsense ! Julia 
 love, retire with your mamma ; this silly young gentleman will 
 remain and smoke a pipe with me." 
 
 I took one ; it was the bitterest chillum I ever smoked in my 
 
 life. 
 
 * # # # # 
 
 I am not going to give here an account of mv military ser- 
 
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 vices ; they will appear in my great national autobiography, in 
 forty volumes, which I am now preparing for the press. I was 
 with my regiment in all Wellesley's brilliant campaigns ; then 
 taking dawk, I travelled across the country north-eastward, and 
 had the honor of fighting by the side of Lord Lake at Laswa- 
 ree, Deeg, Furrukabad, Futtyghur, and Bhurtpore : but I will 
 not boast of my actions — the military man knows them, my 
 sovereign appreciates them. If asked who was the bravest 
 man of the Indian army, there is not an officer belonging to it 
 who would not cry at once, Gahagan. The fact is, I was des- 
 perate : I cared not for life, deprived of Julia Jowler. 
 
 With Julia's stony looks ever before my eyes, her father's 
 stern refusal in my ears, I did not care, at the close of the cam- 
 paign, again to seek her company or press my suit. We were 
 eighteen months on service, marching and countermarching, 
 and fighting almost every other day \ to the world I did not 
 seem altered ; but the world only saw the face, and not the 
 seared and blighted heart within me. My valor, always des- 
 perate, now reached to a pitch of cruelty \ I tortured my grooms 
 .and grass-cutters for the most trifling offence or error, — I never 
 in action spared a man, — I sheared off three hundred and 
 nine heads in the course of that single campaign. 
 
 Some influence, equally melancholy, seemed to have fallen 
 upon poor old Jowler. About six months after we had left 
 Dum Dum, he received a parcel of letters from Benares 
 (whither his wife had retired with her daughter), and so deeply 
 did they seem to weigh upon his spirits, that he ordered eleven 
 men of his regiment to be flogged within two days ; but it was 
 against the blacks that he chiefly turned his wrath. Our fel- 
 lows, in the heat and hurry of the campaign, were in the habit 
 of dealing rather roughly with their prisoners, to extract treas- 
 ure from them : they used to pull their nails out by the root, 
 to boil them in kedgeree pots, to flog them and dress their 
 wounds with cayenne pepper, and so on. Jowler, when he 
 heard of these proceedings, which before had always justly 
 exasperated him (he was a humane and kind little man), used 
 now to smile fiercely and say, " D — the black scoundrels ! 
 Serve them right, serve them right ! " 
 
 One day, about a couple of miles in advance of the column, 
 I had been on a foraging party with a few dragoons, and was 
 returning peaceably to camp, when of a sudden a troop of 
 Mahrattas burst on us from a neighboring mango-tope, in which 
 they had been hidden : in an instant three of my men's sad- 
 dles were empty and I was left with but seven more to make 
 
• OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 head against at least thirty of these vagabond black horsemen. 
 I never saw in my life a nobler figure than the leader of the 
 troop — mounted on a splendid black Arab : he was as tall, 
 very nearly, as myself ; he wore a steel cap and a shirt of mail, 
 and carried a beautiful French carbine, which had already done 
 execution upon two of my men. I saw that our only chance 
 of safety lay in the destruction of this man. I shouted to him 
 in a voice of thunder (in the Hindustanee tongue of course), 
 " Stop, dog, if you dare, and encounter a man ! " 
 
 In reply his lance came whirling in the air over my head, 
 and mortally transfixed poor Foggarty of ours, who was be- 
 hind me. Grinding my teeth and swearing horribly, I drew 
 that scimitar which never yet failed its blow, # and rushed at 
 the Indian. He came down at full gallop, his own sword mak- 
 ing ten thousand gleaming circles in the air, shrieking his cry 
 of battle. 
 
 The contest did not last an instant. With my first blow I 
 cut off his sword-arm at the wrist ; my second I levelled at 
 his head. I said that he wore a steel cap, with a gilt iron 
 spike of six inches, and a hood of chain mail. I rose in my 
 stirrups and delivered "St. George;" my sword caught the 
 spike exactly on the point, split it sheer in two, cut crashing 
 through the steel cap and hood, and was only stopped by a 
 ruby which he wore in his back-plate. His head, cut clean in 
 two between the eyebrows and nostrils, even between the two 
 front teeth, fell one side on each shoulder, and he galloped 
 on till his horse was stopped by my men, who were not a little 
 amused at the feat. 
 
 As I had expected, the remaining ruffians fled on seeing 
 their leader's fate. I took home his helmet by way of curios- 
 ity, and we made a single prisoner, who was instantly carried 
 before old Jowler. 
 
 We asked the prisoner the name of the leader of the troop ; 
 he said it was Chowder Loll. 
 
 " Chowder Loll ! " shrieked Colonel Jowler. " O fate ! thy 
 hand is here ! " He rushed wildly into his tent — the next day 
 applied for leave of absence. Gutch took the command of the 
 regiment, and I saw him no more for some time. 
 
 -Vr J£» JA> 
 
 ■VT -7T -7T -T" *7v -7V" 
 
 As I had distinguished myself not a little during the war, 
 General Lake sent me up with despatches to Calcutta, where 
 Lord Wellesley received me with the greatest distinction. 
 
 > * In my affair with* Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out with small-swords : — 
 miserable weapons, only fit for tailors. — G. O'G. G. 
 
I£2 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 Fancy my surprise, on going to a ball at Government House, 
 to meet my old friend Jowler ; my trembling, blushing, thrilling 
 delight, when I saw Julia by his side ! 
 
 Jowler seemed to blush too when he beheld me. I thought 
 of my former passages with his daughter. " Gagy my boy," 
 says he, shaking hands, " glad to see you. Old friend, Julia — 
 come to tiffin — Hodgson's pale — brave fellow Gagy." Julia 
 did not speak, but she turned ashy pale, and fixed upon me her 
 awful eyes ! I fainted almost, and uttered some incoherent 
 words. Julia took my hand, gazed at me still, and said, 
 " Come ! " Need I say I went ? 
 
 I will not go over the pale ale and currie-bhaut again ; but 
 this I know, that in half an hour I was as much in love as I 
 ever had been : and that in three weeks I — yes, I — was the 
 accepted lover of Julia ! I did not pause to ask where were the 
 one hundred and twenty-four offers ? why I, refused before, 
 should be accepted now ? I only felt that I loved her, and was 
 happy ! 
 
 * # # * * 
 
 One night, one memorable night, I could not sleep, and, 
 with a lover's pardonable passion, wandered solitary through 
 the city of palaces until I came to the house which contained 
 my Julia. I peeped into the compound — all was still ; I looked 
 into the verandah — all was dark, except a light — yes, one light 
 — and it was in Julia's chamber ! My heart throbbed almost 
 to stifling. I would — I would advance, if but to gaze upon 
 her for a moment, and to bless her as she slept. I did look, I 
 did advance; and, O heaven! I saw a lamp burning, Mrs. 
 Jow. in a night-dress, with a very dark baby in her arms, and 
 Julia looking tenderly at an ayah, who was nursing another. 
 
 " Oh, mamma," said Julia, " what would that foot Gahagan 
 say if he knew all ? " 
 
 " He does know all! shouted I, springing forward, and tear- 
 ing down the tatties from the window. Mrs. Jow. ran shrieking 
 out of the room, Julia fainted, the cursed black children squalled, 
 and their d — d nurse fell on her knees, gabbling some infernal 
 jargon of Hindustanee. Old Jowler at this juncture entered 
 with a candle and a drawn sword. 
 
 " Liar ! scoundrel ! deceiver ! " shouted I. " Turn, ruffian, 
 • and defend yourself ! " But old Jowler, when he saw me, 
 only whistled, looked at his lifeless daughter, and slowly left 
 the room. 
 
 Why continue the tale ? I need not now account for Jow- 
 ler s gloom on receiving his letters from Benares — for his ex- 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG A IV. 
 
 clamation upon the death of the Indian chief — for his desire tq 
 marry his daughter : the woman I was wooing was no longet 
 Miss Julia Jowler, she was Mrs. Chowder Loll ! 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 ALLYGHUR AND LASWAREE. 
 
 I sat down to write gravely and sadly, for (since the appear- 
 ance of some of my adventures in a monthly magazine) un- 
 principled men have endeavored to rob me of the only good 
 I possess, to question the statements that I make, and, them- 
 selves without a spark of honor or good feeling, to steal from 
 me that which is my sole wealth — my character as a teller of 
 
 THE TRUTH. 
 
 The reader will understand that it is to the illiberal stric- 
 tures of a profligate press I now allude ; among the London 
 journalists, none (luckily for themselves) have dared to ques- 
 tion the veracity of my statements : they know me, and they 
 know that I am in London. If I can use the pen, I can also 
 wield a more manly and terrible weapon, and would answer 
 their contradictions with my sword ! No gold or gems adorn 
 the hilt of that war-worn scimitar ; but there is blood upon the 
 blade — the blood of the enemies of my country, and the m align- 
 ers of my honest fame. There are others, however — the dis- 
 grace of a disgraceful trade — who, borrowing from distance a 
 despicable courage, have ventured to assail me. The infamous 
 editors of the Kelso Champion, the Bungay Beacon, the Tipperary 
 Argus, and the Stoke Pogis Sentinel, and other dastardly organs 
 of the provincial press, have, although differing in politics, 
 agreed upon this one point, and, with a scoundrelly unanimity, 
 vented a flood of abuse upon the revelations made by me. 
 
 They say that I have assailed private characters, and wil- 
 fully perverted history to blacken the reputation of public men. 
 I ask, was any one of these men in Bengal in the year 1803 ? 
 Was any single conductor of any one of these paltry prints ever 
 in Bundelcund or the Rohilla country ? Does this exquisite 
 Tipperary scribe know the difference between Hurrygurrybang 
 and Burrumtollah ? Not he ! and because, forsooth, in those 
 strange and distant lands strange circumstances have taken 
 place, it is insinuated that the relater is a liar : nay, that the 
 very places themselves have no existence but in my imagina- 
 
i54 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 tion. Fools ! — but I will not waste my anger upon them, and 
 proceed to recount some other portions of my personal his- 
 tory. 
 
 It is, I presume, a fact which even these scribbling assassins 
 will not venture to deny, that before the commencement of the 
 campaign against Scindiah, the English General formed a camp 
 at Kanouge on the Jumna, where he exercised that brilliant 
 little army which was speedily to perform such wonders in the 
 Dooab. It will be as well to give a slight account of the 
 causes of a war which was speedily to rage through some of the 
 fairest portions of the Indian continent. 
 
 Shah Allum, the son of Shah Lollum, the descendant by 
 the female line of Nadir Shah (that celebrated Toorkomaun 
 adventurer, who had wellnigh hurled Bajazet and Selim the 
 Second from the throne of Bagdad) — Shah Allum, I say, al- 
 though nominally the Emperor of Delhi, was in reality the slave 
 of the various warlike chieftains who lorded it by turn's over 
 the country and the sovereign, until conquered and slain by 
 some more successful rebel. Chowder Loll Masolgee, Zubber- 
 dust Khan, Dowsunt Row Scindiah, and the celebrated Bob- 
 bachy Jung Bahawder, had held for a time complete mastery in 
 Delhi. The second of these, a ruthless Afghan soldier, had 
 abruptly entered the capital ; nor was he ejected from it until 
 he had seized upon the principal jewels, and likewise put out 
 the eyes of the last of the unfortunate family of Afrasiab. 
 Scindiah came to the rescue of the sightless Shah Allum, and 
 though he destroyed his oppressor, only increased his slavery ; 
 holding him in as painful a bondage as he had suffered under 
 the tyrannous Afghan. 
 
 As long as these heroes were battling among themselves, or 
 as long rather as it appeared' that they had any strength to fight 
 a battle, the British Government, ever anxious to see its ene- 
 mies by the ears, by no means interfered in the contest. But 
 the French Revolution broke out, and a host of starving sans- 
 culottes appeared among the various Indian States, seeking for 
 military service, and inflaming the minds of the various native 
 princes against the British East India Company. A number of 
 these entered into Scindiah's ranks : one of them, Perron, was 
 commander of his army; and though that chief was as yet 
 quite engaged in his hereditary quarrel with Jeswunt Row Hol- 
 kar, and never thought of an invasion of the British territory, 
 the Company all of a sudden discovered that Shah Allum, his 
 sovereign, was shamefully ill-used, and determined to re-estab- 
 lish the ancient splendor of his throne. 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 155 
 
 - Of course it was sheer benevolence for poor Shah Allum 
 that prompted our governors to take these kindly measures in 
 his favor. I don't know how it happened that, at the end of 
 the war, the poor Shah was not a whit better off than at the 
 beginning ; and that though Holkar was beaten, and Scindiah 
 annihilated, Shah Allum was much such a puppet as before. 
 Somehow, in the hurry and confusion of this struggle, the oyster 
 remained with the British Government, who had so kindly of- 
 fered to dress it for the Emperor, while his Majesty was obliged 
 to be contented with the shell. 
 
 The force encamped at Kanouge bore the title of the Grand 
 Army of the Ganges and the Jumna ; it consisted of eleven 
 regiments of cavalry and twelve battalions of infantry, and was 
 commanded by General Lake in person. 
 
 Well, on the 1st of September we stormed Perron's camp 
 at Allyghur ; on the fourth we took that fortress by assault ; 
 and as my name was mentioned in general orders, I may as 
 well quote the Commander-in-Chief's words regarding me — they 
 will spare me the trouble of composing my own eulogium : — 
 
 " The Commander-in-Chief is proud thus publicly to de- 
 clare his high sense of the gallantry of Lieutenant Gahagan, of 
 the cavalry. In the storming of the fortress, although un- 
 provided with a single ladder, and accompanied but by a few 
 brave men, Lieutenant Gahagan succeeded in escalading the 
 inner and fourteenth wall of the place. Fourteen ditches lined 
 with sword-blades and poisoned chevaux-de-frise, fourteen walls 
 bristling with innumerable artillery and as smooth as looking- 
 glasses, were' in turn triumphantly passed by that enterprising 
 officer. His course was to be traced by the heaps of slaugh- 
 tered enemies lying thick upon the platforms ; and alas ! by the 
 corpses of most of the gallant men who followed him ! — when 
 at length he effected his lodgment, and the dastardly enemy, 
 who dared not to confront him with arms, let loose upon him 
 the tigers and lions of Scindiah's menagerie. This meritorious 
 officer destroyed, with his own hand, four of the largest and 
 most ferocious animals, and the rest, awed by the indomitable 
 majesty of British valor, shrank back to their dens. Thomas 
 Higgory, a private, and Runty Goss, havildar, were the only 
 two who remained out of the nine hundred who followed Lieu- 
 tenant Gahagan. Honor to them ! Honor and tears for the 
 brave men who perished on that awful day ! '' 
 
 ■Ms j£ r jfc ^i. afe 
 
 *7\* "TV "A* "TV "TV 
 
 I have copied this, word for word, from the Bengal Hurkaru 
 of September 24, 1803 : and anybody who has the slightest 
 doubt as to the statement, may refer to the paper itself. 
 
156 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 And here I must pause to give thanks to Fortune, which so 
 marvellously preserved me, Sergeant-Major Higgory, and Runty 
 Goss. Were I to say that any valor of ours had carried us un- 
 hurt through this tremendous combat, the reader would laugh 
 me to scorn. No : though my narrative is extraordinary, it is 
 nevertheless authentic ; and never, never would I sacrifice truth 
 for the mere sake of effect. The fact is this : — the citadel of 
 Allyghur is situated upon a rock, about a thousand feet above 
 the level of the sea, and is surrounded by fourteen walls, as his 
 Excellency was good enough to remark in his despatch. A 
 man who would mount these without scaling-ladders, is an ass ; 
 he who would say he mounted them without such assistance, is 
 a liar and a knave. We had scaling-ladders at the commence- 
 ment of the assault, although it was quite impossible to carry 
 them beyond the first line of batteries. Mounted on them, 
 however, as our troops were falling thick about me, I saw that 
 we must ignominiously retreat, unless some other help could be 
 found for our brave fellows to escalade the next wall. It was 
 about seventy feet high. I instantly turned the guns of wall 
 A on wall B, and peppered the latter so as to make, not a breach, 
 but a scaling place ; the men mounting in the holes made by 
 the shot. By this simple stratagem, I managed to pass each 
 successive barrier — for to ascend a wall which the General w r as 
 pleased to call " as smooth as glass " is an absurd impossi- 
 bility : I seek to achieve none such : — 
 
 " I dare do all that may become a man, 
 
 Who dares do more, is neither more nor less." 
 
 Of course, had the enemy's guns been commonly well 
 served, not one of us would ever have been alive out of the 
 three ; but whether it was owing to fright, or to the excessive 
 smoke caused by so many pieces of artillery, arrive we did. 
 On the platforms, too, our work was not quite so difficult as 
 might be imagined — killing these fellows was sheer butchery. 
 As soon as we appeared, they all turned and fled helter-skelter, 
 and the reader may judge of their courage by the fact that out 
 of about seven hundred men killed by us, only forty had 
 wounds in front, the rest being bayoneted as they ran. 
 
 And beyond all other pieces of good fortune was the very 
 letting out of these tigers ; which was the drrnicr resort of Bour- 
 nonville, the second commandant of the fort. I had observed 
 this man (conspicuous for a tri-colored scarf which he wore) 
 upon every one of the walls as we stormed them, and running 
 away the very first among the fugitives. He had all the keys 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN z <§j 
 
 of the gates ; and in his tremor, as he opened the menagerie 
 portal, left the whole bunch in the door, which I seized when 
 the animals were overcome. Runty Goss then opened them 
 one by one, our troops entered, and the victorious standard of 
 my country floated on the walls of Allyghur ! 
 
 When the General, accompanied by his staff, entered the 
 last line of fortifications, the brave old man raised me from the 
 dead rhinoceros on which I was seated, and pressed me to his 
 breast. But the excitement which had borne me through the 
 fatigues and perils of that fearful day failed all of a sudden, 
 and I wept like a child upon his shoulder. 
 
 Promotion, in our army, goes unluckily by seniority • nor is 
 it in the power of the General-in-Chief to advance a Caesar, if 
 he finds him in the capacity of a subaltern ; my reward for the 
 above exploit was, therefore, not very rich. His Excellency 
 had a favorite horn snuff-box (for, though exalted in station, he 
 was in his habits most simple) : of this, and about a quarter of 
 an ounce of high-dried Welsh, which he always took, he made 
 me a present, saying, in front of the line, " Accept this, Mr. 
 Gahagan, as a token of respect from the first to the bravest 
 officer in the army." 
 
 Calculating the snuff to be worth a halfpenny, I should say 
 that fourpence was about the value of this gift : but it has at 
 least this good effect — it serves to convince any person who 
 doubts my story, that the facts of it are really true. I have left 
 it at the office of my publisher, along with the extract from the 
 Bengal Hurkaru, and anybody may examine both by applying 
 in the counting-house of Mr. Cunningham. # That once popu- 
 lar expression, or proverb,." Are you up to snuff ? " arose out 
 of the above circumstance ; for the officers of my corps, none 
 of whom, except myself, had ventured on the storming-party. 
 used to twit me about this modest reward for my labors. 
 Never mind ! when they want me to storm a fort again, I shall 
 know better. 
 
 Well, immediately after the capture of this important for- 
 tress, Perron, who had been the life and soul of Scindiah's 
 army, came in to us, with his family and treasure, and w r as 
 passed over to the French settlements at Chandernagur. Bour- 
 quien took his command, and against him we now moved. The 
 morning of the nth of September found us upon the plains of 
 Delhi. 
 
 * The Major certainly offered to leave an old snuff-box at Mr. Cunningham's office ; 
 but it contained no extract from a newspaper, and does not quite prove that he killed a 
 rhinoceros and stormed fourteen intrenchments at the siege of Allyghur. 
 
 1 1 
 
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 \ 
 
 It was a burning hot day, and we wer« all refreshing our- 
 selves after the morning's march, when I, who was on the ad- 
 vanced piquet along with O'Gawler of the King's Dragoons, 
 was made aware of the enemy's neighborhood in a very singu- 
 lar manner. O'Gawler and I were seated under a little canopy 
 of horse-cloths, which we had formed to shelter us from the 
 intolerable heat of the sun, and were discussing with great 
 delight a few Manilla cheroots, and a stone jar of the most ex- 
 quisite, cool, weak, refreshing sangaree. We had been playing- 
 cards the night before, and O'Gawler had lost to me seven 
 hundred rupees. I emptied the last of the sangaree into the 
 two pint tumblers out of which we were drinking, and holding 
 mine up, said, " Here's better luck to you next time, O'Gaw- 
 ler ! " 
 
 As I spoke the words — whish ! — a cannon-ball cut the tum- 
 bler clean out of my hand, and plumped into poor O'Gawler's 
 stomach. It settled him completely, and of course I never got 
 my seven hundred rupees. Such are the uncertainties of war ! 
 
 To strap on my sabre and my accoutrements — to mount my 
 Arab charger — to drink off what O'Gawler had left of the san- 
 garee — and to gallop to the General, was the work of a moment. 
 I found him as comfortably at tiffin as if he were at his own 
 house in London. 
 
 " General," said I, .as soon as I got into his paijamahs (or 
 tent), " you must leave your lunch if you want to fight the 
 enemy." 
 
 " The enemy — psha ! Mr. Gahagan, the enemy is on the 
 other side of the river." 
 
 " I can only tell your Excellency that the enemy's guns will 
 hardly carry five miles, and that Cornet O'Gawler was this 
 moment shot dead at my side with a cannon-ball." 
 
 " Ha ! is it so ? " said his Excellency, rising, and laying 
 down the drumstick of a grilled chicken. "Gentlemen, re- 
 member that the eyes of Europe are upon us, and follow me ! " 
 
 Each aide-de-camp started from table and seized his cocked 
 hat ; each British heart beat high at the thoughts of the coming 
 melee. We mounted our horses, and galloped swiftly after the 
 brave old General ; I not the last in the train, upon my famous 
 black charger. 
 
 It was perfectly true, the enemy were posted in force within 
 three miles of our camp, and from a hillock in the advance to 
 which we galloped, we were enabled with our telescopes to see 
 the whole of his imposing line. Nothing can better describe it 
 than this : — 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 *59 
 
 "A 
 
 • — A is the enemy, and the dots represent the hundred and 
 twenty pieces of artillery which defended his line. He was, 
 moreover, intrenched ; and a wide morass in his front gave him 
 an additional security. 
 
 His Excellency for a moment surveyed the line, and then 
 said, turning round to one of his aides-de-camp, " Order up 
 Major-General Tinkler and the cavalry." 
 
 " Here, does your Excellency mean ? " said the aide-de- 
 camp, surprised, for the enemy had perceived us, and the 
 cannon-balls were flying about as thick as peas. 
 
 "Here, sir/" said the old General, stamping with his foot 
 in a passion, and the A. D. C. shrugged his shoulders and 
 galloped away. In five minutes we heard the trumpets in our 
 camp, and in twenty more the greater part of the cavalry had 
 joined us. 
 
 Up they came, five thousand men, their standards flapping 
 in the air, their long line of polished jack-boots gleaming in the 
 golden sunlight. " And now we are here," said Major-General 
 
 Sir Theophilus Tinkler, " what next?" "Oh, d it," said 
 
 the Commander-in-Chief, " charge, charge — nothing like charg- 
 ing — galloping — guns — rascally black scoundrels — ch arge, 
 charge ! " And then turning round to me (perhaps he was 
 glad to change the conversation), he said, " Lieutenant Gaha- 
 gan, you will stay with me." 
 
 And well for him I did, for I do not hesitate to say that the 
 battle was gained by me. I do not mean to insult the reader by 
 pretending that any personal exertions of mine turned the day, 
 — that I killed, for instance, a regiment of cavalry or swallowed 
 a battery of guns, — such absurd tales would disgrace both the 
 hearer and the teller. I, as is well known, never say a single 
 word which cannot be proved, and hate more than all other 
 vices the absurd sin of egotism ; I simply mean that my advice 
 to the General, at a quarter past two o'clock in the afternoon 
 of that day, won this great triumph for the British army. 
 
 Gleig, Mill and Thorn have all told the tale of this war, 
 though somehow they have omitted all mention of the hero of 
 it. General Lake, for the victory of that day, became Lord 
 Lake of Laswaree. Laswaree ! and who, forsooth, was the 
 
i6o 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 real conqueror of Laswaree? I can lay my hand upon my 
 heart and say that / was. If any proof is wanting of the fact, 
 let me give it at once, and from the highest military testimony 
 in the world — -I mean that of the Emperor Napoleon. 
 
 In the month of March, 1817, I was a passenger on board 
 the " Prince Regent/' Captain Harris, which touched at St. 
 Helena on its passage from Calcutta to England. In company 
 with the other officers on board the ship, I paid my respects to 
 the illustrious exile of Longwood, who received us in his garden, 
 where he was walking about, in a nankeen dress, and a large 
 broad-brimmed straw-hat, with General Montholon, Count Las 
 Casas, and his son Emanuel, then a little boy ; who I dare say 
 does not recollect me, but who nevertheless played with my 
 sword-knot and the tassels of my Hessian boots during the 
 whole of our interview with his Imperial Majesty. 
 
 Our names were read out (in a pretty accent, by the way !) 
 by General Montholon, and the Emperor, as each was pro- 
 nounced, made a bow to the owner of it, but did not vouchsafe 
 a word. At last Montholon came to mine. The Emperor 
 looked me at once in the face, took his hands out of his pockets, 
 put them behind his back, and coming up to me smiling, pro- 
 nounced the following words : — 
 
 " Assaye, Delhi, Dee'g, Futtyghur ? " 
 
 I blushed, and taking off my hat with a bow, said— Sire, 
 c'est moi." 
 
 " Parbleu ! je le savais bien," said the Emperor, holding 
 out his snuff-box. " En usez-vous, Major ? " I took a large 
 pinch (which, with the honor of speaking to so great a man, 
 Drought the tears into my eyes), and he continued as nearly as 
 possible in the following words : — 
 
 " Sir, you are known ; you come of an heroic nation. Your 
 third brother, the Chef de Bataillon, Count Godfrey Gahagan, 
 was in my Irish brigade." 
 
 Gahagan. — Sire, it is true. He and my countrymen in 
 your Majesty's service stood under the green flag in the breach 
 of Burgos, and beat Wellington back. It was the only time, 
 as your Majesty knows, that Irishmen and Englishmen were 
 beaten in that war." 
 
 Napoleon (looking as if he would say, " D — your candor, 
 Major Gahagan "). — " Well, well ; it was so. Your brother was 
 a Count, and died a General in my service." 
 
 Gahagan. — " He was found lying upon the bodies of nine- 
 and-twenty Cossacks at Borodino. They were all dead, and 
 bore the Gahagan mark." 
 
 Napoleon (to Montholon). — " C'est vrai, Montholon : je vous 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 
 
 161 
 
 donne ma parole d'honneur la plus sacree, que c'est vrai. lis 
 ne sont pas d'autres, ces terribles Ga'gans. You must know 
 that Monsieur gained the battle of Delhi as certainly as I did 
 that of Austerlitz. In this way : — Ce belitre de Lor Lake, after 
 calling up his cavalry, and placing them in front of Holkars 
 batteries, qui balayient la plaine, was for charging the enemy's 
 batteries with his horse, who would have been ecrases, mitrail- 
 les, foudroyes to a man but for the cunning of ce grand rogue 
 que vous voyez." 
 
 Montholon. — " Coquin de Major, va ! " 
 
 Napoleo?i. — " Montholon ! tais-toi. When Lord Lake, with 
 his great bull-headed English obstinacy, saw the f&chruse 
 position into which he had brought his troops, he was for dying 
 on the spot, and would infallibly have done so — and the loss of 
 his army would have been the ruin of the East India Company 
 — and the ruin of the English East India Company would have 
 established my empire (bah ! it was a republic then !) in the 
 East — but that the man before us, Lieutenant Goliah Gahagan, 
 was riding at the side of General Lake." 
 
 Montholon (with an accent of despair and fury). — " Gredin ! 
 cent mille tonnerres de Dieu ! " 
 
 Napoleon (benignantly). — " Calme-toi, mon fidele ami. What 
 will you ? It was fate. Gahagan, at the critical period of the 
 battle, or rather slaughter (for the English had not slain a man 
 of the enemy), advised a retreat." 
 
 Montholon. — " Le lache ! Un Frangais meurt, mais il ne 
 recule jamais." 
 
 Napoleon. — " Stupide / Don't you see why the retreat was 
 ordered ? — don't you know that it was a feint on the part of 
 Gahagan to draw Holkar from his impregnable intrenchments ? 
 Don't you know that the ignorant Indian fell into the snare, 
 and issuing from behind the cover of his guns, came down with 
 his cavalry on the plains in pursuit of Lake and his dragoons ? 
 Then it was that the Englishmen turned upon him ; the hardy 
 children of the north swept down his feeble horsemen, bore 
 them back to their guns, which were useless, entered Holkar's 
 intrenchments along with his troops, sabred the artillerymen at 
 their pieces, and won the battle of Delhi ! " 
 
 As the Emperor spoke, his pale cheek glowed red, his 
 eye flashed fire, his deep clear voice rung as of old when he 
 pointed out the enemy from beneath the shadow of the Pyra- 
 mids, or rallied his regiments to the charge upon the death- 
 strewn plains of Wagram. I have had many a proud moment 
 in my lh> but never such a proud one as this ; and I would 
 
162 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 readily pardon the word "coward," as applied to me oy Mon- 
 tholon, in consideration of the testimony which his master bore 
 in my favor. 
 
 " Major/' said the Emperor to me in conclusion, "why had 
 I not such a man as you in my service ? I would have made 
 you a Prince and a Marshal ! " and here he fell into a reverie, 
 of which I knew and respected the purport. He was thinking, 
 doubtless, that I might have retrieved his fortunes ; and indeed 
 I have very little doubt that I might. 
 
 Very soon after, coffee was brought by Monsieur Marchand, 
 Napoleon's valet de chambre, and after partaking of that bever- 
 age, and talking upon the politics of the day, the Emperor 
 withdrew, leaving me deeply impressed by the condescension 
 he had shown in this remarkable interview. 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 A PEEP INTO SPAIN ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND SERVICES OF 
 
 THE AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS. 
 
 Head- Quarter s, Morella, Sept. itf/i, 1838. 
 
 I have been here for some months, along with my young 
 friend Cabrera : and in the hurry and bustle of war — daily on 
 guard and in the batteries for sixteen hours out of the twenty- 
 four, with fourteen severe wounds and seven musket-balls in 
 my body — it may be imagined that I have had little time to 
 think about the publication of my memoirs. Inter arma silent 
 leges — in the midst of fighting be hanged to writing ! as the 
 poet says ; and I never would have bothered myself with a pen, 
 had not common gratitude incited me to throw off a few pages. 
 
 Along with Oraa's troops, who have of late been beleaguer- 
 ing this place, there was a young Milesian gentleman, Mr. 
 Toone O'Connor Emmett Fitzgerald Sheeny, by name, a law 
 student, and member of Gray's Inn, and what he called Bay Ah 
 of Trinity College, Dublin. Mr. Sheeny was with the Queen's 
 people, not in a military capacity, but as representative of an 
 English journal ; to which, for a trifling weekly remuneration, 
 he was in the habit of transmitting accounts of the movements 
 of the belligerents, and his own opinion of the politics of Spain. 
 Receiving, for the discharge of his duty, a couple of guineas a 
 week from the proprietors of the journal in question, he was 
 enabled, as I need scarcely say, to make such a show in Oraa's 
 camp as only a Christino general officer, or at the very least a 
 colonel of a regiment, can afford to keep up. 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 163 
 
 In the famous^sortie which we made upon the twenty-third, 
 I was of course among the foremost in the melee, and found my- 
 self, after a good deal of slaughtering (which it would be as dis- 
 agreeable as useless to describe here), in the court of a small 
 inn or podesta, which had been made the head-quarters of 
 several Queenite officers during the siege. The pesatero or 
 landlord of the inn had been despatched by my brave chapel- 
 churies, with his fine family of children — the officers quartered 
 in the podesta had of course bolted ; but one man remained, 
 and my fellows were on the point of cutting him into ten 
 thousand pieces with their borachios, when I arrived in the 
 room time enough to prevent the catastrophe. Seeing before 
 me an individual in the costume of a civilian — a white hat, a 
 lisfht-blue satin cravat, embroidered with butterflies and other 
 quadrupeds, a green coat and brass buttons, and a pair of blue 
 plaid trousers, I recognized at once a countryman, and inter- 
 posed to save his life. 
 
 In an agonized brogue the unhappy young man was saying 
 all that he could to induce the chapel-churies to give up their 
 intention of slaughtering him ; but it is very little likely that 
 his protestations would have had any effect upon them, had not 
 I appeared in the room, and shouted to the ruffians to hold 
 their hand. 
 
 Seeing a general officer before them (I have the honor to 
 hold that rank in the service of his Catholic Majesty), and 
 moreover one six feet four in height, and armed with that 
 terrible eabecilla (a sword so called, because it is five feet long) 
 which is so well known among the Spanish armies — seeing, I 
 say, this figure, the fellows retired, exclaiming, " Adios, eo?'po di 
 bacco, nosotros" and so on, clearly proving (by their words) that 
 they would, if they dared, have immolated the victim whom I 
 had thus rescued from their fury. "Villains ! " shouted I, hear- 
 ing them grumble, " away ! quit the apartment ! " Each man, 
 sulkily sheathing his sombrero, obeyed, and quitted the cama- 
 rilla. 
 
 It was then that Mr. Sheeny detailed to me the particulars 
 to which I have briefly adverted ; and, informing me at the 
 same time that he had a family in England who would feel 
 obliged to me for his release, and that his most intimate friend 
 the English ambassador would move heaven and earth to 
 revenge his fall, he directed my attention to a portmanteau 
 passably well filled, which he hoped would satisfy the cupidity 
 of my troops. I said, though with much regret, that I must 
 subject his person to a search ; and hence arose the circum- 
 stance which has called for what I fear you will consider a 
 
164 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 somewhat tedious explanation. I found up$>n Mr. Sheeny's 
 person three sovereigns in English money (which I have to this 
 day), and singularly enough a copy of The New Monthly 
 Magazine, containing a portion of my adventures. It was a 
 toss-up whether I should let the poor young man be shot or no, 
 but this little circumstance saved his life. The gratified vanity 
 of authorship induced me to accept his portmanteau and 
 valuables, and to allow the poor wretch to go free. I put the 
 Magazine in my coat-pocket, and left him and the podesta. 
 
 The men, to my surprise, had quitted the building, and it 
 was full time for me to follow • for I found our sallying party, 
 after committing dreadful ravages in Oraa's lines, were in full 
 retreat upon the fort, hotly pressed by a superior force of the 
 enemy. I am pretty well known and respected by the men of 
 both parties in Spain (indeed I served for some months on the 
 Queen's side before I came over to Don Carlos) ; and, as it is 
 my maxim never to give quarter, I never expect to receive it 
 when taken myself. On issuing from the podesta with Sheeny's 
 portmanteau and my sword in my hand, I was a little disgusted 
 and annoyed to see our own men in a pretty good column 
 retreating at double-quick, and about four hundred yards beyond 
 me, up the hill leading to the fort • while on my left hand, and 
 at only a hundred yards, a troop of the Queenite lancers were 
 clattering along the road. 
 
 I had got into the very middle of the road before I made 
 this discovery, so that the fellows had a full sight of me, and 
 whizz ! came a bullet by my left whisker before I could say 
 Jack Robinson. I looked round — there were seventy of the 
 accursed malvados at the least, and within, as I said, a hundred 
 yards. Were I to say that I stopped to fight seventy men, you 
 would write me down a fool or a liar : no, sir, I did not fight, I 
 ran away. 
 
 I am six feet four — my figure is as well known in the 
 Spanish army as that of the Count de Luchana, or my fierce 
 little friend Cabrera himself. " Gahagan ! " shouted out half 
 a dozen scoundrelly voices, and fifty more shots came rattling 
 after me. I was running — running as the brave stag: before the 
 hounds — running as I have done a great number of times 
 before in my life, when there was no help for it but a race. 
 
 After I had run about five hundred yards, I saw that I had 
 gained nearly three upon our column in front, and that likewise 
 the Christino horsemen were left behind some hundred yards 
 more ; with the exception of three, who were fearfully near me. 
 The first was an officer without a lance ; he had fired both his 
 pistols at me, and was twenty yards in advance of his comrades ; 
 
OF MAJOR G A HA GAM 
 
 there was a similar distance between the two lancers who rode 
 behind him. I determined then to wait for No. i, and as he 
 came up delivered cut 3 at his horse's near leg — off it flew, and 
 down, as I expected, went horse and man. I had hardly time 
 to pass my sword through my prostrate enemy, when, No. 2 
 was upon me. If I could but get that fellows' horse, thought 
 I, I am safe ; and I executed at once the plan which I hoped 
 was to effect my rescue. 
 
 I had, as I said, left the podesta with Sheeny's portmanteau, 
 and, unwilling to part with some of the articles it contained — 
 some shirts, a bottle of whiskey, a few cakes of Windsor soap, 
 &c, &c. — I had carried it thus far on my shoulders, but now 
 was compelled to sacrifice it malgre moi. As the lancer came 
 up, I dropped my sword from my right hand, and hurled the 
 portmanteau at his head, with aim so true, that he fell back on 
 his saddle like a sack, and thus when the horse galloped up to 
 me, I had no difficulty in dismounting the rider : the whiskey- 
 bottle struck him over his right eye, and he was completely 
 stunned. To dash him from the saddle and spring myself into 
 it, was the work of a moment ; indeed, the two combats had 
 taken place in about a fifth part of the time which it has taken 
 the reader to peruse the description, But in the rapidity of 
 the last encounter, and the mounting of my enemy's horse, I 
 had committed a very absurd oversight — I was scampering away 
 without my sword ! What was I to do ? — to scamper on, to be 
 sure, and trust to the legs of my horse for safety ! 
 
 The lancer behind me gained on me every moment, and I 
 could hear his horrid laugh as he neared me. I leaned forward 
 jockey fashion in my saddle, and kicked, and urged, and flogged 
 with my hand, but all in vain. Closer — closer — the point of 
 his lance was within two feet of my back. Ah ! ah ! he delivered 
 the point, and fancy my agony when I felt it enter — through 
 exactly fifty-nine pages of the New Mo?ithly Magazine. Had it 
 not been for that Magazine, I should have been impaled with- 
 out a shadow of a doubt. Was I wrong in feeling gratitude ? 
 Had I not cause to continue my contributions to that peri- 
 odical ! 
 
 When I got safe into Morella, along with the tail of the 
 sallying party, I was for the first time made acquainted with the 
 ridiculous result of the lancer's thrust (as he delivered his lance, 
 I must tell you that a ball came whizz over my head from our 
 fellows, and entering at his nose, put a stop to his lancing for 
 the future). I hastened to Cabrera's quarter, and related to 
 him some of my adventures during the day. 
 
i66 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 " But, General," said he, you are standing. I beg you 
 chiudete Pnscio (take a chair)." 
 
 I did so, and then for the first time was aware that there 
 was some foreign subtance in the tail of my coat, which pre- 
 vented my sitting at ease. I drew out the Magazine which I 
 had seized, and there, to my wonder, discovered the Christine 
 lance twisted up like a fish-hook, or a pastoral crook. 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " said Cabrera (who is a notorious wag).* 
 
 " Valdepefias madrilenos,; growled out Tristany. 
 
 " By my cachuca di caballero (upon my honor as a gentle- 
 man)," shrieked out Ros d'Eroles, convulsed with laughter, " I 
 will send it to the Bishop of Leon for a crozier." 
 
 " Gahagan has consecrated it," giggled out Ramon Cabrera ; 
 and so they went on with their muchacas for an hour or more. 
 But, when they heard that the means of my salvation from the 
 lance of the scoundrelly Christino had been the Magazine 
 containing my own history, their laugh was changed into wonder. 
 I read them (speaking Spanish more fluently than English) 
 every word of my story. " But how is this ? " said Cabrera. 
 " You surely have other adventures to relate ? " 
 
 " Excellent Sir," said I, " I have ;" and that very evening, 
 as we sat over our cups of tertullia (sangaree), I continued my 
 narrative in nearly the following words : — 
 
 " I left off in the very middle of the battle of Delhi, which 
 ended, as everybody knows, in the complete triumph of the 
 British arms. But who gained the battle ? Lord Lake is called 
 Viscount Lake of Delhi and Laswaree, while Major Gaha — 
 nonsense, never mind him^ never mind the charge he executed 
 when, sabre in hand, he leaped the six-foot wall in the mouth 
 of the roaring cannon, over the heads of the gleaming pikes ; 
 when, with one hand seizing the sacred peishcush, or fish — 
 which was the banner always borne before Scincliah, — he, with 
 his good sword, cut off the trunk of the famous white elephant, 
 which, shrieking with agony, plunged madly into the Mahratta 
 ranks, followed by his giant brethren, tossing, like chaff before 
 the wind, the affrighted kitmatgars. He, meanwhile, now 
 plunging into the midst of a battalion of consomahs, now 
 cleaving to the chine a screaming and ferocious bobbachee,* 
 rushed on, like the simoom across the red Zaharan plain, killing, 
 
 with his own hand, a hundred and forty-thr but never mind 
 
 — ' alone he did it ; ' sufficient be it for him, however, that the 
 
 *" The double-jointed camel of Bactria, which the classic reader may recollect is men- 
 tioned by Suidas (in his Commentary on the Flight of Darius), is so called by the 
 Mahrattas. 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 
 
 167 
 
 victory was won : he cares not for the empty honors which were 
 awarded to more fortunate men ! 
 
 " We marched after the battle to Delhi, where poor blind 
 old Shah Allum received us, and bestowed all kinds of honors 
 and titles on our General. As each of the officers passed 
 before him, the Shah did not fail to remark my person,* and 
 was told my name. 
 
 " Lord Lake whispered to him my exploits, and the old man 
 was so delighted with the account of my victory over the 
 elephant (whose trunk I use to this day), that he said, 1 Let him 
 be called Gujputi,' or the lord of elephants ; and Gujputi was 
 the name by which I was afterwards familiarly known among 
 the natives, — the men, that is. The women had a softer appel- 
 lation for me, and called me ' Mushook,' or charmer. 
 
 "Well, I shall not describe Delhi, c which is doubtless well 
 known to the reader ; nor the siege of Agra, to which place we 
 went from Delhi ; nor the terrible day at Laswaree, which went 
 nigh to finish the war. Suffice it to say that we were victori- 
 ous, and that I was wounded ; as I have invariably been in the 
 two hundred and four occasions when I have found myself in 
 action. One point, however, became in the course of this cam- 
 paign quite evident — that something must be done for Gahagan. 
 The country cried shame, the King's troops grumbled, the sepoys 
 openly murmured that their Gujputi was only a lieutenant, when 
 he had performed such signal services. What was to be done ? 
 Lord Wellesley was in an evident quandary. ' Gahagan,' wrote 
 he, ' to be a subaltern is evidently not your fate — you were bom 
 for command ; but Lake and General Wellesley are good officers, 
 they cannot be turned out — I must make a post for you. What 
 say you, my dear fellow, to a corps of irregular horse ? ' 
 
 " It was thus that the famous corps of Ahmednuggar 
 Irregulars had its origin ; a guerilla force, it is true, but one 
 which will long be remembered in the annals of our Indian 
 campaigns. 
 
 m # * * # 
 
 " As the commander of this regiment, I was allowed to settle 
 the uniform of the corps, as well as to select recruits. These 
 were not wanting as soon as my appointment was made known, 
 but came flocking to my standard a great deal faster than to 
 the regular corps in the Company's service. I had European 
 officers, of course, to command them, and a few of my country- 
 
 ^ * There is some trifling inconsistency on the Major's part. Shah Allum was notoriously 
 blind : how, then, could he have seen Gahagan ? The thing is manifestly impossible . 
 
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 men as sergeants ; the rest were all natives, whom I chose of 
 the strongest and bravest men in India : chiefly Pitans, Afghans, 
 Hurrumzadehs, and Calliawns : for these are well known to 
 be the most warlike districts of our Indian territory. 
 
 " When on parade and in full uniform we made a singular 
 and noble appearance. I was always fond of dress • and, 
 in this instance, gave a carte blanche to my taste, and invented 
 the most splendid costume that ever perhaps decorated a sol- 
 dier. I am, as I have stated already, six feet four inches in 
 height, and of matchless symmetry and proportion. My hair 
 and beard are of the most brilliant auburn, so bright as scarcely 
 to be distinguished at a distance from scarlet. My eyes are 
 bright blue, overshadowed by bushy eyebrows of the color of 
 my hair, and a terrific gash of the deepest purple, which goes 
 over the forehead, the eyelid, and the cheek, and finishes at 
 the ear, gives my face a more strictly military appearance than 
 can be conceived. When I have been drinking (as is pretty 
 often the case) this gash becomes ruby bright, and as I have 
 another which took off a piece of my under-lip, and shows five 
 of my front teeth, I leave you to imagine that ' seldom lighted 
 on the earth ' (as the monster Burke remarked of one of his 
 unhappy victims) ' a more extraordinary vision.' I improved 
 these natural advantages • and, while in cantonment during the 
 hot winds at Chitty-bobbary, allowed my hair to grow very long, 
 as did my beard, which reached to my waist. It took me two 
 hours daily to curl my hair in ten thousand little cork-screw 
 ringlets, which waved over my shoulders, and to get my mus- 
 taches well round to the corners of my eyelids. I dressed in 
 loose scarlet trousers and red morocco boots, a scarlet jacket, 
 and a shawl of the same color round my waist ; a scarlet turban 
 three feet high, and decorated with a tuft of the scarlet feathers 
 of the flamingo, formed my head-dress, and I did not allow myself 
 a single ornament, except a small silver skull and cross-bones 
 in front of my turban. Two brace of pistols, a Malay creese, 
 and a tulwar, sharp on both sides, and very nearly six feet in 
 length, completed this elegant costume. My two flags were 
 each surmounted with a real skull and cross-bones, and orna- 
 mented, one with a black, and the other with a red beard (of 
 enormous length, taken from men slain in battle by me). On 
 one flag were of course the arms of John Company ; on the 
 other, an image of myself bestriding a prostrate elephant, with 
 the simple word ' Gujputi ' written underneath in the Nagaree, 
 Persian and Sanscrit characters. I rode my black horse, and 
 looked, by the immortal gods, like Mars. To me might be 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 
 
 169 
 
 applied the words which were written concerning handsome 
 General Webb, In Marlborough's time ; — 
 
 " ? To noble danger he conducts the way, 
 His great example all his troop obey, 
 Before the front the Major sternly rides, 
 With such an air as Mars to battle strides. 
 Propitious heaven must sure a hero save 
 Like Paris handsome, and like Hector brave !' 
 
 " My officers (Captains Biggs and Mackanulty, Lieutenants 
 Glogger, Pappendick, Stuffle, &c., &c.,) were dressed exactly in 
 the same way, but in yellow ; and the men were similarly 
 equipped, but in black. I have seen many regiments since, 
 and many ferocious-looking men, but the Ahmednuggar Irregu- 
 lars were more dreadful to the view than any set of ruffians on 
 which I ever set eyes. I would to heaven that the Czar of 
 Muscovy had passed through Cabool and Lahore, and that I 
 with my old Ahmednuggars stood on a fair field to meet him ! 
 Bless you, bless you, my swart companions in victory ! through 
 the mist of twenty years I hear the booming of your war-cry, 
 and mark the glitter of your scimitars as ye rage in the thickest 
 of the battle ! * 
 
 " But away with melancholy reminiscences. You may fancy 
 •what a figure the Irregulars cut on a field-day — a line of five 
 hundred black-faced, black-dressed, black-horsed, black-bearded 
 men — Biggs, Glogger, and the other officers in yellow, gal- 
 loping about the field like flashes of lightning; myself en- 
 lightening them, red, solitary, and majestic, like yon glorious 
 orb in heaven. 
 
 " There are very few men, I presume, who have not heard 
 of Holkar's sudden and gallant incursion into the Dooab, in 
 the year 1804, when we thought that the victory of Laswaree 
 and the brilliant success at Deeg had completely finished him. 
 Taking ten thousand horse he broke up his camp at Palimbang ; 
 and the first thing General Lake heard of him was, that he was 
 at Putna, then at Rumpooge, then at Doncaradam — he was, in 
 fact, in the very heart of our territory. 
 
 " The unfortunate part of the affair was this : — His Excel- 
 lency, despising the Mahratta chieftain, had allowed him to 
 advance about two thousand miles in his front, and knew not 
 in the slightest degree where to lay hold on him. Was he at 
 Hazarubaug ? was he at Bogly Gunge ? nobody knew, and 
 
 * I do not wish to brag of my style of writing, or to pretend that my genius as a writer 
 has not been equalled in former times; but if, in the works of Byron Scott, Goethe, or Vic- 
 tor Hugo, the reader can find a more beautiful sentence than the above, I will be obliged to 
 him, that is all— I simply say, ' will be obliged to him. — G. O'G, G., M. H. E. I. C. S., 
 
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 for a considerable period the movements of Lake's cavalry 
 were quite ambiguous, uncertain, promiscuous, and undeter- 
 mined. 
 
 " Such, briefly, was the state of affairs in October, 1804. 
 At the beginning of that month I had been wounded (a trifling 
 scratch, cutting off my left upper eyelid, a bit of my cheek, and 
 my under-lip), and I was obliged to leave Biggs in command 
 of my Irregulars whilst I retired for my wounds to an English 
 station at Furruckabad, alias Futtyghur — it is, as every two- 
 penny postman knows, at the apex of the Dooab. We have 
 there a cantonment, and thither I went for the mere sake of 
 the surgeon and the sticking-plaster. 
 
 " Furruckabad, then, is divided into two districts or towns : 
 the lower Cotwal, inhabited by the natives, and the upper 
 (which is fortified slightly, and has all along been called Futty- 
 ghur, meaning in Hindustanee ' the-favorite-resort-of-the-white- 
 faced-Feringhees-near-the-mango-tope-consecrated-to-Ram') oc- 
 cupied by Europeans. (It is astonishing, by the way, how 
 comprehensive that language is, and how much can be conveyed 
 in one or two of the commonest phrases.) 
 
 "Biggs, then, and my men were playing all sorts of won- 
 drous pranks with Lord Lake's army, whilst I was detained an- 
 unwilling prisoner of health at Futtyghur. 
 
 " An unwilling prisoner, however, I should not say. The 
 cantonment at Futtyghur contained that which would have 
 made any man a happy slave. Woman, lovely woman, was 
 there in abundance and variety ! The fact is, that, when the 
 campaign commenced in 1803, the ladies of the army all con- 
 gregated to this place, where they were left, as it was supposed, 
 in safety. I might, like Homer, relate the names and qualities 
 of all. I may at least mention some whose memory is still most 
 dear to me. There was — 
 
 "Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, wife of Bulcher of the in- 
 fantry. 
 
 " Miss Bulcher. 
 
 " Miss Belinda Bulcher (whose name I beg the printer to 
 put in large capitals). 
 
 u Mrs. Colonel V andegobbleschroy. 
 
 " Mrs. Major Macan and the four Misses Macan. 
 
 " The Honorable Mrs. Burgoo, Mrs. Flix, Hicks, Wicks, 
 and many more too numerous to mention. The flower of our 
 camp was, however, collected there, and the last words of 
 Lord Lake to me, as I left him, were, ' Gahagan, I commit 
 those women to your charge. Guard them with your life, watch 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 
 
 over them with your honor, defend them with the matchless 
 power of your indomitable arm." 
 
 " Futtyghur is, as I have said, a European station, and the 
 pretty air of the bungalows, amid the clustering topes of mango- 
 trees, has often ere this excited the admiration of the tourist 
 and sketcher. On the brow of a hill — the Burrumpooter river 
 rolls majestically at its base ; and no spot, in a word, can be 
 conceived more exquisitely arranged, both by art and nature, 
 as a favorite residence of the British fair. Mrs. Bulcher, Mrs. 
 Vandegobbleschroy, and the other married ladies above men- 
 tioned, had each of them delightful bungalows and gardens in 
 the place, and between one cottage and another my time passed 
 as delightfully as can the hours of any man who is away from 
 his darling occupation of war. 
 
 " I was the commandant of the fort. It is a little insignif- 
 icant pettah, defended simply by a couple of gabions, a very 
 ordinary counterscarp, and a bomb-proof embrasure. On the 
 top of this my flag was planted, and the small garrison of forty 
 men only were comfortably barracked off in the casemates 
 within. A surgeon and two chaplains (there were besides three 
 reverend gentlemen of amateur missions, who lived in the 
 town,) completed, as I may say, the garrison of our little fort- 
 alice, which I was left to defend and to co'mmand. 
 
 " On the night of the first of November, in the year 1804, I 
 had invited Mrs. Major-General Bulcher and her daughters, 
 Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy, and, indeed, all the ladies in the can- 
 tonment, to a little festival in honor of the recovery of my 
 health, of the commencement of the shooting season, and indeed 
 as a farewell visit, for it was my intention to take dawk the very 
 next morning and return to my regiment. The three amateur 
 missionaries whom I have mentioned, and some ladies in the 
 cantonment of very rigid religious principles, refused to appear 
 at my little party. They had better never have been born than 
 have done as they did : as you shall hear. 
 
 "We had been dancing merrily all night, and the supper 
 (chiefly of the delicate condor, the luscious adjutant, and other 
 birds of a similar kind, which I had shot in the course of the 
 day) had been duly feted by every lady and gentleman present ; 
 when I took an opportunity to retire on the ramparts, with the 
 interesting and lovely Belinda Bulcher. I was occupied, as the 
 French say, in conter-ing fleurettes to this sweet young creature, 
 when, all of a sudden, a rocket was seen whizzing through the 
 air, and a strong light was visible' in the valley, below the little 
 fort. 
 
lj 2 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 44 4 What, fireworks ! Captain Gahagan/ said Belinda ; c this 
 is too gallant.' 
 
 " 4 Indeed, my dear Miss Bulcher,' said I, 4 they are fire- 
 works of which I have no idea : perhaps our friends the mis- 
 sionaries ' 
 
 " Look, look ! ' said Belinda, trembling, and clutching tightly 
 hold of my arm : 6 what do I see ? yes — no — yes ! it is — our 
 bungalow is i?i flames 1 ' 
 
 " It was true, the spacious bungalow occupied by Mrs. 
 Major-General was at that moment seen a prey to the devour- 
 ing element — another and another succeeded it — seven bunga- 
 lows, before I could almost ejaculate the name of Jack Robin- 
 son, were seen blazing brightly in the black midnight air ! 
 
 " I seized my night-glass, and looking towards the spot 
 where the conflagration raged, what was my astonishment to 
 see thousands of black forms dancing round the fires ; whilst 
 by their lights I could observe columns after columns of Indian 
 horse, arriving and taking* up their ground in the very middle 
 of the open square or tank, round which the bungalows were 
 built ! 
 
 " 4 Ho, warder ! ' shouted I (while the frightened and trem- 
 bling Belinda clung closer to my side, and pressed the stalwart 
 arm that encircled her waist), 4 down with the drawbridge ! see 
 that your masolgees' (small tumbrels which are used in place 
 of large artillery) 4 be well loaded : you, sepoys, hasten and 
 man the ravelin ! you, choprasees, put out the lights in the em- 
 brasures ! we shall have warm work of it to-night, or my name 
 is not Goliah Gahagan.' 
 
 44 The ladies, the guests (to the number of eighty-three), the 
 sepoys, choprasees, masolgees, and so on, had all crowded on 
 the platform at the sound of my shouting, and dreadful was the 
 consternation, shrill the screaming, occasioned by my words. 
 The men stood irresolute and mute with terror ! the women, 
 trembling, knew scarcely whither to fly for refuge. 4 Who are 
 yonder ruffians ? ' said I. A hundred voices yelped in reply — 
 some said the Pindarees, some said the Mahrattas, some vowed 
 it was Scindiah, and others declared it was Holkar — no one 
 knew. 
 
 " 4 Is there any one here/ said I, 4 who will venture to recon- 
 noitre yonder troops ? ' There was a dead pause. 
 
 44 4 A thousand tomauns to the man who will bring me news 
 of yonder army ! ' again I repeated. Still a dead silence. The 
 fact was that Scindiah and Holkar both were so notorious for 
 their cruelty, that no one dared venture to face the danger. 
 1 Oh for fifty of my brave Ahmednuggarees ! ' thought I. 
 
OF MAJOR GAFIAGAN. 
 
 173 
 
 ut Gentlemen/ said I, 'I see it — you are cowards — none of 
 you dare encounter the chance even of death. It is an encour- 
 aging prospect : know you not that the ruffian Holkar, if it be 
 he, will with the morrow's dawn beleaguer our little fort, and 
 throw thousands of men against our walls ? know you not that, 
 if we are taken, there is no quarter, no hope ; death for us — 
 and worse than death for these lovely ones assembled here ? ' 
 Here the ladies shrieked and raised a howl as 1 have heard the 
 jackals on a summer's evening. Belinda, my dear Belinda ! 
 flung both her arms round me, and sobbed on my shoulder (or 
 in my waistcoat-pocket rather, for the little witch could reach no 
 higher). 
 
 " 4 Captain Gahagan,' sobbed she, 4 Go — Go — Goggle — iah V 
 44 4 My soul's adored ! ' replied I. 
 " 4 Swear to me one thing/ 
 " 4 1 swear.' 
 
 4 4 4 That if — that if,- — the nasty, horrid, odious black Mah- 
 ra-a-a-attahs take the fort, you will put me out of their power.' 
 
 44 1 clasped the dear girl to my heart, and swore upon my 
 sword that, rather than she should incur the risk of dishonor, 
 she should perish by my own hand. This comforted her ; and 
 her mother, Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, and her elder sister, 
 who had not until now known a word of our attachment, (in- 
 deed, but for these extraordinary circumstances, it is probable 
 that we ourselves should never have discovered it), were under 
 these painful circumstances made aware of my beloved Belinda's 
 partiality for me. Having communicated thus her wish of self- 
 destruction, I thought her example a touching and excellent 
 one, and proposed to all the ladies that they should follow it, 
 and that at the entry of the enemy into the fort, and at a signal 
 given by me, they should one and all make away with them- 
 selves. Fancy my disgust when, after making this proposition, 
 not one of the ladies chose to accede to it, and received it 
 with the same chilling denial that my former proposal to the 
 garrison had met with. 
 
 44 In the midst of this hurry and confusion, as if purposely 
 to add to it, a trumpet was heard at the gate of the fort, and 
 one of the sentinels came running to me, saying that a Mahratta 
 soldier was before the gate with a flag of truce ! 
 
 44 1 went down, rightly conjecturing, as it turned out, that 
 the party, whoever they* might be, had no artillery; and re- 
 ceived at the point of my sword a scroll, of which the following 
 is a translation : — 
 
 12 
 
174 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 "TO GOLIAH GAHAGAN GUJPUTI. 
 
 " 'Lord of Elephants, Sir, — I have the honor to inform you 
 that I arrived before this place at eight o'clock p. m. with ten 
 thousand cavalry under my orders. I have burned, since my 
 arrival, seventeen bungalows in Furruckabad and Futtyghur, 
 and have likewise been under the painful necessity of putting 
 to death three clergymen (mollahs), and seven English officers, 
 whom I found in the village ; the women have been transferred 
 to safe keeping in the harems of my officers and myself. 
 
 " ' As I know your courage and talents, I shall be very 
 happy if you will surrender the fortress, and take service as a 
 major-general (hookahbadar) in my army. Should my proposal 
 not meet with your assent, I beg leave to state that to-morrow 
 I shall storm the fort, and on taking it, shall put to death every 
 male in the garrison, and every female above twenty years of 
 age. For yourself I shall reserve a punishment, which for 
 novelty and exquisite torture has, I flatter myself, hardly ever 
 been exceeded. Awaiting the favor of a reply, I am, Sir, 
 
 " ■ Your very obedient servant, 
 
 " ' JESWUNT ROW HOLKAR. 
 
 " 1 Camp before Futtyghur, Sept. I, 1804. 
 " < R. S. V. P.' 
 
 " The officer who had brought this precious epistle (it is 
 astonishing how Holkar had aped the forms of English cor- 
 respondence), an enormous Pitan soldier, with a shirt of mail, 
 and a steel cap and cape, round which his turban wound, was 
 leaning against the gate on his matchlock, and whistling a 
 national melody. I read the letter, and saw at once there was 
 no time to be lost. That man, thought I, must never go back 
 to Holkar. Were he to attack us now before we were pre- 
 pared, the fort would be his in half an hour. 
 
 " Tying my white pocket-handkerchief to -a stick, I flung 
 open the gate and advanced to the officer ; he was standing, I 
 said, on the little bridge across the moat. I made him a low 
 salaam, after the fashion of the country, and, as he bent for- 
 ward to return the compliment, I am sorry to say, I plunged 
 forward, gave him a violent blow on the head, which deprived 
 him of all sensation, and then dragged him within the wall, 
 raising the drawbridge after me. 
 
 " I bore the body into my own apartment ; there, swift as 
 thought, I stripped him of his turban, cammerbund, peijam- 
 mahs, and papooshes, and, putting them on myself, determined 
 to go forth and reconnoitre the. enemy." 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. I7S 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 Here I was obliged to stop, for Cabrera, Ros d'Eroles, and 
 the rest of the staff, were sound asleep ! What I did in my 
 reconnaissance, and how I defended the fort of Futtyghur, I 
 shali have the honor of telling on another occasion. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 THE INDIAN CAMP— THE SORTIE FROM THE FOR±. 
 
 Head-Quarters, Morella, Oct. 3, 1838. 
 
 It is a oalmy night. I hear the merry jingle of the tam- 
 bourine, and the cheery voices of the girls and peasants, as 
 they dance beneath my casement, under the shadow of the 
 clustering vines. The laugh and song pass gayly round, and 
 even at this distance I can distinguish the elegant form of 
 Ramon Cabrera, as he whispers gay nothings in the ears of the 
 Andalusian girls, or joins in the thrilling chorus of Riego's 
 hymn, which is ever and anon vociferated by the enthusiastic 
 soldiery of Carlos Quinto. I am alone, in the most inacces- 
 sible and most bomb-proof tower of our little fortalice ; the 
 large casements are open — the wind, as it enters, whispers in 
 my ear its odorous recollections of the orange grove and the 
 myrtle bower. My torch (a branch of the fragrant cedar-tree) 
 flares and flickers in the midnight breeze, and disperses its 
 scent and burning splinters on my scroll and the desk where I 
 write — meet implements for a soldier's authorship ! — it is car- 
 tridge paper over which my pen runs so glibly, and a yawning 
 barrel of gunpowder forms my rough writing-table. Around 
 me, below me, above me, all — all is peace ! I think, as I sit 
 here so lonely, on my country, England ! and muse over the 
 sweet and bitter recollections of my early days ! Let me 
 resume my narrative, at the point where (interrupted by the 
 authoritative summons of war) I paused on the last occasion. 
 
 I left off, I think — (for I am a thousand miles away from 
 proof-sheets as I write, and, were I not writing the simple 
 truth, must contradict myself a thousand times in the course 
 of my tale) — I think, I say, that I left off at that period of my 
 story, when, Holkar being before Futtyghur, and I in com- 
 
176 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 mand of that fortress, I had just been compelled to make away 
 with his messenger ; and, caressed in the fallen Indian's accou- 
 trements, went forth to reconnoitre the force, and, if possible, 
 to learn the intentions of the enemy. However much my figure 
 might have resembled that of the Pitan, and, disguised in his 
 armor, might have deceived the lynx-eyed Mahrattas, into 
 whose camp I was about to plunge, it was evident that a single 
 glance at my fair face and auburn beard would have undeceived 
 the dullest blockhead in Holkar's army. Seizing, then a bottle 
 of Burgess's walnut catsup, I dyed my face and my hands, and, 
 with the simple aid of a flask of Warren's jet, I made my hair 
 and beard as black as ebony. The Indian's helmet and chain 
 hood covered likewise a great part of my face, and I hoped 
 thus, with luck, impudence, and a complete command of all 
 the Eastern dialects and languages, from Burmah to Afghanis- 
 tan, to pass scot-free through this somewhat dangerous ordeal. 
 
 I had not the word of the night, it is true — but I trusted to 
 good fortune for that, and passed boldly out of the fortress, 
 bearing the flag of truce as before ; I had scarcely passed on a 
 couple of hundred yards, when lo ! a party of Indian horse* 
 men, armed like him I had just overcome, trotted towards me. 
 One w r as leading a noble white charger, and no sooner did he 
 see me than, dismounting from his own horse, and giving the 
 rein to a companion, he advanced to meet me with the charger ; 
 a second fellow likewise dismounted and followed the first ; 
 one held the bridle of the horse, while the other (with a multi- 
 tude of salaams, aleikums, and other genuflexions,) held the 
 jewelled stirrup, and kneeling, waited until I should mount. 
 
 I took the hint at once : the Indian who had come up to 
 the fort was a great man — that was evident ; I walked on with 
 a majestic air, gathered up the velvet reins, and sprung into 
 the magnificent high-peaked saddle. " Buk, buk," said I. " It 
 is good. In the name of the forty-nine Imaums, let us ride on." 
 And the whole party set off at a brisk trot, I keeping silence, 
 and thinking with no little trepidation of what I was about to 
 encounter. 
 
 As we rode along, I heard two of the men commenting 
 upon my unusual silence (for I suppose, I — that is the Indian 
 — was a talkative officer). "The lips of the Bahawder are 
 closed," said one. " Where are those birds of Paradise, his 
 long-tailed words ? they are imprisoned between the golden 
 bars of his teeth ! " 
 
 " Kush," said his companion, " be quiet ! Bobbachy Bahaw- 
 der has seen the dreadful Feringbee, Gahagan Khan Gujputi, 
 
OF MAJOR GAHA'GAN. 
 
 177 
 
 the' elephant-lord, whose sword reaps the harvest of death ; 
 there is but one champion who can wear the papooshes of the 
 elephant-slayer — it is Bobbachy Bahawder! " 
 
 " You speak truly, Puneeree Muckun, the Bahawder rumi- 
 nates on the words of the unbeliever : he is an ostrich, and 
 hatches the eggs of his thoughts." 
 
 " Bekhusm ! on my nose be it ! May the young birds, his 
 actions, be strong and swift in flight." 
 
 " May they digest irojt /" said Puneeree Muckun, who was 
 evidently a wag in his way. 
 
 "O-ho ! " thought I, as suddenly the light flashed upon me. 
 " It was, then, the famous Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I over- 
 came just now ! and he is the man destined to stand in my 
 slippers, is he ? " and I was at that very moment standing in 
 his own ! Such are the chances and, changes that fall to the 
 lot of the soldier ! 
 
 I suppose everybody — everybody who has been in India, at 
 least — has heard the name of Bobbachy Bahawder : it is de- 
 rived from the two Hindustanee words — bobbachy, general ; 
 bahawder, artilleryman. He had entered into Holkar's service 
 in the latter capacity, and had, by his merit and undaunt- 
 ed bravery in action, attained the dignity of the peacock's 
 feather, which is only granted to noblemen of the first class ; 
 he was married, moreover, to one of Holkar's innumerable 
 daughters : a match which, according to the Chronique Scanda- 
 kuse, brought more of honor than of pleasure to the poor Bob- 
 bachy. Gallant as he was in the field, it was said that in the 
 harem he was the veriest craven alive, completely subjugated 
 by his ugly and odious wife. In all matters of importance the 
 late Bahawder had been consulted by his prince, who had, as 
 it appears, (knowing my character, and not caring to do any- 
 thing rash in his attack upon so formidable an enemy,) sent 
 forward the unfortunate Pitan to reconnoitre the fort ; he was 
 to have done yet more, as I learned from the attendant Pu- 
 neeree Muckun, who was, I soon found out, an old favorite 
 with the Bobbachy — doubtless on account of his honesty and 
 love of repartee. 
 
 " The Bahawder's lips are closed," said he, as last, trotting 
 up to me ; " has he not a word for old Puneeree Muckun ? " 
 
 " Bismillah, mashallah, barikallah,' said I ; which means, 
 " My good friend, what I have seen is not worth the trouble 
 of relation, and fills my bosom with the darkest forebodings." 
 
 " You could not then see the Gujputi alone, and stab him 
 with your dagger ? " 
 
178 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 [Here was a pretty conspiracy !] " No, I saw him, but not 
 alone ; his people were always with him." 
 
 " Hurrumzadeh ! it is a pity ; we waited but the sound of 
 yourjogree (whistle), and straightway would have galloped up 
 and seized upon every man, woman, and child in the fort : how- 
 ever, there are but a dozen men in the garrison, and they have 
 not provision for two days — they must yield ; and then hurrah 
 for the moon-faces ! Mashallah ! I am told the soldiers who 
 first get in are to have their pick, How my old woman, Rotee 
 Muckun, will be surprised when I bring home a couple of Fer- 
 inghee wives, — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 ? Fool ! " said I, " be still ! — twelve men in the garrison ! 
 there are twelve hundred ! Gahagan himself is as good as a 
 thousand men ; and as for food, I saw with my own eyes five 
 hundred bullocks grazing in the court-yard as I entered." This 
 was a bouncer, I confess ; but my object was to deceive Pu- 
 neeree Muckun, and give him as high a notion as possible of 
 the capabilities of defence which the besieged had. 
 
 " Pooch, pooch," murmured the men ; "it is a wonder of a 
 fortress : we shall never be able to take it until our guns come 
 up." 
 
 There was hope then ! they had no battering-train. Ere 
 this arrived, I trusted that Lord Lake would hear of our plight, 
 and march down to rescue us. Thus occupied in thought and 
 conversation, we rode on until the advanced sentinel challenged 
 us, when old Puneeree gave the word, and we passed on into 
 the centre of Holkar's camp. 
 
 It was a strange — a stirring sight ! The camp-fires were 
 lighted ; and round them — eating, reposing, talking, looking at 
 the merry steps of the dancing-girls, or listening to the stories 
 of some Dhol Baut (or Indian improvisatore) — were thousands 
 of dusky soldiery. The camels and horses were picketed under 
 the banyan-trees, on which the ripe mango fruit was growing, 
 and offered them an excellent food. Towards the spot which 
 the golden fish and royal purdahs, floating in the wind, des- 
 ignated as the tent of Holkar, led an immense avenue — of 
 elephants ! the finest street, indeed, I ever saw. Each of the 
 monstrous animals had a castle on its back, armed with Mauri- 
 tanian archers and the celebrated Persian matchlock-men ! it 
 was the feeding time of these royal brutes, and the grooms were 
 .observed bringing immense toffungs, or baskets, filled with 
 pine-apples, plantains, bananas, Indian corn, and cocoa-nuts, 
 which grow luxuriantly at all seasons of the year. We passed 
 down this extraordinary avenue — no less than three hundred 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 179 
 
 and eighty-eight tails did I count on each side — each tail as 
 pertaining to an elephant twenty-five feet high — each elephant 
 having a two-storied castle on its back — each castle contain- 
 ing sleeping and eating rooms for the twelve men that formed 
 its garrison/ and were keeping watch on the roof — each roof 
 bearing a flag-staff twenty feet long on 'its top, the crescent 
 glittering with a thousand gems, and round it the imperial 
 standard, — each standard of silk velvet and cloth-of-gold, bear- 
 - ing the well-known device of Holkar, argent an or gules, be- 
 tween a sinople of the first, a chevron, truncated, wavy. I took 
 nine of these myself in the course of a very short time after, 
 and shall be happy, when I come to England, to show them to 
 any gentleman who has a curiosity that way. Through this 
 gorgeous scene our little cavalcade passed, and at last we 
 arrived at the quarters occupied by Holkar. 
 
 That celebrated chieftain's tents and followers were gathered 
 round one of the British bungalows which had escaped the 
 flames, and which he occupied during the siege. When I 
 entered the large room where he sat, I found him in the midst 
 of a council of war ; his chief generals and viziers seated round 
 him, each smoking his hookah, as is the common way with 
 these black fellows, before, at, and after breakfast, dinner, 
 supper, and bedtime. There was such a cloud raised by their 
 smoke you could hardly see a yard before you — another piece 
 of good luck for me — as it diminished the chances of my detec- 
 tion. When, with the ordinary ceremonies, the kitmatgars and 
 consomahs had explained to the prince that Bobbachy Bahawder, 
 the right eye of the Sun of the universe (as the ignorant hea- 
 thens called me), had arrived from his mission, Holkar imme- 
 diately summoned me to the maidaun, or elevated platform, on 
 which he was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, and I, instantly 
 taking off my slippers, falling on my knees, and beating my 
 head against the ground ninety-nine times, proceeded, still on 
 my knees, a hundred and twenty feet through the room, and 
 then up the twenty steps which led to his maidaun — a silly, 
 painful, and disgusting ceremony, which can only be con- 
 sidered as a relic of barbarian darkness, which tears the knees 
 and shins to pieces, let alone the pantaloons. I recommend 
 anybody w T ho goes to India, with the prospect of entering the 
 service of the native rajahs, to recollect my advice, and have 
 them well wadded. 
 
 Well, the right eye of the Sun of the universe scrambled as 
 well as he could up the steps of the maidaun (on which, in 
 rows, smoking, as I have said, the musnuds or general officers 
 
iSo 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 were seated), and I arrived within speaking-distance of Holkar, 
 who instantly asked me the success of my mission. The im- 
 petuous old man thereon poured out a multitude of questions : 
 <; How many men are there in the fort ? " said he ; " how many 
 women ? Is it victualled ? have they ammunition ? Did you 
 see Gahagan Sahib, the commander ? did you kill him ? 99 
 
 All these questions Jeswunt Row Holkar puffed out with so 
 many whiffs of tobacco. 
 
 Taking a chillum myself, and raising about me such a cloud 
 that, upon my honor as a gentleman, no man at three yards' 
 distance could perceive anything of me except the pillar of 
 smoke in which I was encompassed, I told Holkar, in Oriental 
 language of course, the best tale I could with regard to the 
 fort. 
 
 " Sir," said I, "to answer your last question first — that 
 dreadful Gujputi I have seen — and he is alive : he is eight 
 feet, nearly, in height ; he can eat a bullock daily (of which he 
 has seven hundred at present in the compound, and swears 
 that during the siege he will content himself with only three a 
 week) : he has lost, in battle, his left eye ; and what is the 
 consequence? O Ram Gunge" (O thou-with-the-eye-as-bright- 
 as-morning and-with-beard-as-black-as-night), " Goliah Gujputi 
 
 NEVER SLEEPS ! " 
 
 " Ah, you Ghorumsaug (you thief of the world,) " said the 
 Prince Vizier, Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee — " it's joking you 
 are , " — and there was a universal buzz through the room at 
 the announcement of this bouncer. 
 
 u By the hundred and eleven incarnations of Vishnu," said 
 I, solemnly (an oath which no Indian was ever known to 
 break), " I swear that so it is : so at least he told me, and I 
 have good cause to know his power. Gujputi is an enchanter: 
 he is leagued with devils ; he is invulnerable. Look," said I, 
 unsheathing my dagger — and every eye turned instantly 
 towards me — "thrice did I stab him with this steel — in the 
 back, once — twice right through the heart ; but he only laughed 
 me to scorn, and bade me tell Holkar that the steel was not 
 yet forged which was to inflict an injury upon him." 
 
 I never saw a man in such a rage as Holkar was when I 
 gave him this somewhat imprudent message. 
 
 " Ah, lily-livered rogue ! " shouted he* out to me, " milk- 
 blooded unbeliever ! pale-faced miscreant ! lives he after in- 
 sulting thy master in thy presence ? In the name of the 
 Prophet, I spit on thee, defy thee, abhor thee, degrade thee ! 
 Take that, thou liar of the universe ! and that — and that — an ! 
 that ! " 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 181 
 
 Such are the frightful excesses of barbaric minds ! every 
 time this old man said, " Take that," he flung some article near 
 him at the head of the undaunted Gahagan — his dagger, his 
 sword, his carbine, his richly ornamented pistols, his turban 
 covered with jewels, worth a hundred thousand crores of rupees 
 — finally, his hookah, snake mouthpiece, silver bell, chillum and 
 all — which went hissing over my head, and flattening into a 
 jelly the nose of the Grand Vizier. 
 
 " Yock muzzee ! " my nose is off," said the old man, mildly. 
 "Will you have my life, O Holkar ? it is thine likewise ! " and 
 no other word of complaint escaped his lips. 
 
 Of all these missiles, though a pistol and carbine had gone 
 off as the ferocious Indian flung them at my head, and the 
 naked scimitar, fiercely but adroitly thrown, had lopped off the 
 limbs of one or two of the musnuds as they sat trembling on 
 their omrahs, yet, strange to say, not a single weapon had hurt 
 me. When the hubbub ceased, and the unlucky wretches who 
 had been the victims of this fit of rage had been removed, 
 Holkar's good-humor somewhat returned, and he allowed me 
 to continue my account of the fort ; which I did, not taking the 
 slightest notice of his burst of impatience : as indeed it would 
 have been the height of impoliteness to have done, for such 
 accidents happened many times in the day. 
 
 "It is well that the Bobbachy has returned," snuffled out 
 the poor Grand Vizier, after I had explained to the Council the 
 extraordinary means of defence possessed by the garrison. 
 " Your star is bright, O Bahawder ! for this very night we had 
 resolved upon an escalade of the fort, and he had swore to put 
 every one the infidel garrison to the edge of the sword." 
 
 " Bui you hive no battering train," said I. 
 
 " Bah ! we have a couple of ninety-six pounders, quite suffi- 
 cient to blow the gates open ; and then, hey for a charge ! " 
 said Loll Mahommed, a general of cavalry, who was a rival of 
 Bobbachy's, and contradicted, therefore, every word I said. 
 " In the name of Juggernaut, why wait for the heavy artillery ! 
 Have we not swords ? Have we not hearts ? Mashallah ! Let 
 cravens stay with Bobbachy, all true men will follow Loll 
 Mahommed ! Allahhumdillah, Bismillah, Barikallah ? " * and 
 drawing his scimitar, he waved it over his head, and shouted 
 out his cry of battle. It was repeated by many of the other 
 omrahs ; the sound of their cheers was carried into the camp, 
 
 * The Major has put the most approved language into the mouths of his Indian char- 
 acters. Bismillah, Barikillah, and so on, according to the novelists, form the very essence 
 of Eastern conversation. 
 
l82 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 and caught up by the men ; the camels began to cry, the horses 
 to prance and neigh, the eight hundred elephants set up a 
 scream, the trumpeters and drummers clanged away at their in- 
 struments. I never heard such a din before or after. How I 
 trembled for my little garrison when I heard the enthusiastic 
 cries of this innumerable host ! 
 
 There was but one way for it. " Sir," said I, addressing 
 Holkar, "go out to-night, and you go to certain death. Loll 
 Mahommed has not seen the fort as I have. Pass the gate if 
 you please, and for what ? to fall before the fire of a hundred 
 pieces of artillery ; to storm another gate, and then another, 
 and then to be blown up, with Gahagan's garrison in the citadel. 
 Who talks of courage ? Were I not in your august presence, O 
 star of the faithful, I would crop Loll Mahommed's nose from 
 his face, and wear his ears as an ornament in my own pugree ! 
 Who is there here that knows not the difference between yonder 
 yellow-skinned coward and Gahagan Khan Guj — I mean Bob- 
 bachy Bahawder ? I am ready to fight one, two, three, or 
 twenty of them, at broad-sword, small-sword, single-stick, with 
 fists, if you please. By the holy piper, fighting is like mate and 
 dthrink to Ga — to Bobbachy, I mane — whoop ! come on, you 
 divvle, and I'll bate the skin off your ugly bones. " 
 
 This speech had very nearly proved fatal to me, for, when I 
 am agitated, I involuntarily adopt some of the phraseology 
 peculiar to my own country • which is so un-eastern, that, had 
 there been any suspicion as to my real character, detection 
 must indubitably have ensued. As it was, Holkar perceived 
 nothing, but instantaneously stopped the dispute. Loll 
 Mahommed, however, evidently suspected something, for, as 
 Holkar, with a voice of thunder, shouted out, " Tomasha 
 (silence)," Loll sprang forward and gasped out — 
 
 " My lord ! my lord ! this is not Bob " 
 
 But he could say no more. " Gag the slave ! " screamed 
 out Holkar, stamping with fury ; and a turban was instantly 
 twisted round the poor devil's jaws. " Ho, furoshes ! carry 
 out Loll Mahommed Khan, give him a hundred dozen on the 
 soles of his feet, set him upon a white donkey, and carry him 
 round the camp, with an inscription before him : " This is the 
 way that Holkar rewards the talkative.' " 
 
 I breathed again ; and ever as I heard each whack of the 
 bamboo falling on Loll Mahommed's feet, I felt peace returning 
 to my mind, and thanked my stars that I was delivered of this 
 danger. 
 
 " Vizier," said Holkar, who enjoyed LolPs roars amazingly 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 " I owe you a reparation for your nose : kiss the hand of your 
 prince, O Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee ! be from this day forth 
 Zoheir u Dowlut ! " 
 
 The good old man's eyes filled with tears. " I can bear thy 
 severity, O Prince," said he " I cannot bear thy love. Was it 
 not an honor that your Highness did me just now when you con- 
 descended to pass over the bridge of your slave's nose? " 
 
 The phrase was by all voices pronounced to be very poeti- 
 cal. The Vizier retired, crowned with his new honors, to bed. 
 Holkar was in high good humor. 
 
 " Bobbachy," said he, " thou, too, must pardon me. A 
 propos, I have news for thee. Your wife, the incomparable 
 Puttee Rooge " (white and red rose), " has arrived in camp." 
 
 " My wife, my lord ! " said I, aghast. 
 
 " Our daughter, the light of thine eyes ! Go, my son ; I see 
 thou art wild with joy. The Princess's tents are set up close by 
 mine, and I know thou longest to join her." 
 
 My wife ? Here was a complication trulv 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 THE ISSUE OF MY INTERVIEW WITH MY WIFE. 
 
 I found Puneeree Muckun, with the rest of my attendants, 
 waiting at the gate, and they immediately conducted me to my 
 own tents in the neighborhood. I have been in many dangerous 
 predicaments before that time and since, but I don't care to 
 deny that I felt in the present instance such a throbbing of the 
 heart as I never have experienced when leading a forlorn hope, 
 or marching up to a battery. 
 
 As soon as I entered the tents a host of menials sprang for- 
 ward, some to ease me of my armor, some to offer me refresh- 
 ments, some .with hookahs, attar of roses (in great quart bottles), 
 and the thousand delicacies of Eastern life. I motioned them 
 away. " I will wear my armor," said I ; " I shall go forth to- 
 night ; carry my duty to the princess, and say I grieve that 
 to-night I have not the time to see her. Spread me a couch 
 here, and bring me supper here : a jar of Persian wine well 
 cooled, a lamb stuffed with pistachio-nuts, a pillaw of a couple 
 of turkeys, a curried kid — anything, Begone ! Give me a 
 pipe ; leave me alone, and tell me when the meal is ready." 
 
184 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 I thought by these means to put off the fair Puttee Rooge, 
 and hoped to be able to escape without subjecting myself to the 
 examination of her curious eyes. After smoking for a while, an 
 attendant came to tell me that my supper was prepared in the 
 inner apartment of the tent (I suppose that the reader, if he be 
 possessed of the commonest intelligence, knows that the tents 
 of the Indian grandees are made of the finest Cashmere shawls, 
 and contain a dozen rooms at least, with carpets, chimneys, and 
 sash-windows complete). I entered, I say, into an inner cham- 
 ber, and there began with my fingers to devour my meal in the 
 Oriental fashion, taking, every now and then, a pull from the 
 wine jar, which was coolmg deliciously in another jar of snow. 
 
 I was just in the act of despatching the last morsel of a most 
 savory stewed lamb and rice, which had formed my meal, when 
 I heard a scuffle of feet, a shrill clatter of female voices, and, the 
 curtain being flung open, in marched a lady accompanied by 
 twelve slaves, with moon faces and slim waists, lovely as the 
 houris in Paradise. 
 
 The lady herself, to do her justice, was as great a contrast 
 to her attendants as could possibly be : she was crooked, old, 
 of the complexion of molasses, and rendered a thousand times 
 more ugly by the tawdry dress and the blazing jewels with 
 which she was covered. A line of yellow chalk drawn from her 
 forehead to the tip of her nose (which was further ornamented 
 by an immense glittering nose-ring), her eyelids painted bright 
 red, and a large dab of the same color on her chin, showed she 
 was not of the Mussulman, but the Brahmin faith — and of a 
 very high caste ; you could see that by her eyes. My mind was 
 instantaneously made up as to my line of action. 
 
 The male attendants had of course quitted the apartment, as 
 they heard the well-known sound of her voice. It would have 
 been death to them to have remained and looked in her face. 
 The females ranged themselves round their mistress, as she 
 squatted down opposite to me. 
 
 "And is this," said she, "a welcome, O Khan! after six 
 months' absence, for the most unfortunate and loving wife in 
 all the world ? Is this lamb, O glutton ! half so tender as thy 
 spouse ? Is this wine, O sot ! half so sweet as her looks ? " 
 
 I saw the storm was brewing — her slaves, to whom she 
 turned, kept up a kind of chorus : — 
 
 " Oh, the faithless one ! " cried they. " Oh, the rascal, the 
 false one, who has no eye for beauty, and no heart for love, like 
 the Khanum's ! " 
 
 "A lamb is not so sweet as love," said I gravely: "but a 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN 
 
 lamb has a good temper ; a wine-cup is not so intoxicating as a 
 woman — but a wine-cup has no tongue, O Khanum Gee ! " and 
 again I dipped my nose in the soul-refreshing jar. 
 
 The sweet Puttee Rooge was not, however, to be put off by 
 my repartees , she and her maidens recommenced their chorus, 
 and chattered and stormed until I lost all patience. 
 
 "Retire, friends," said I, "and leave me in peace." 
 
 " Stir, on your peril ! " cried the Khanum. 
 
 So, seeing there was no help for it but violence, I drew out 
 my pistols, cocked them, and said, " O houris ! these pistols 
 contain each too balls : the daughter of Holkar bears a sacred 
 life for me — but for you ! — by all the saints of Hindustan, four 
 ot ye shall die if ye stay a moment longer in my presence ! " 
 This was enough \ the ladies gave a shriek, and skurried out of 
 the apartment like a covey of partridges on the wing. 
 
 Now, then, was the time for action. My wife, or rather 
 Bobbachy's wife, sat stilly a little flurried, by the unusual fero- 
 city which her lord had displayed in her presence. I seized 
 her hand and, griping it close, whispered in her ear, to which 
 I put the other pistol : — "O Khanum, listen and scream not; 
 the moment you scream, you die ! " She was completely 
 beaten ; she turned as pale as a woman could in her situation, 
 and said, " Speak, Bobbachy Bahawder, I am dumb." 
 
 "Woman," said I, taking off my helmet, and removing the 
 chain cape which had covered almost the whole of my face — 
 "I am not thy husband — I am the slayer of elephants, the 
 world-renowned Gahagan ! " 
 
 As I said this, and as the long ringlets of red hair fell over 
 my shoulders (contrasting strangely with my dyed face and 
 beard), I formed one of the finest pictures that can possibly be 
 conceived, and I recommend it as a subject to Mr. Heath, for 
 the next " Book of Beauty." 
 
 " Wretch ! " said she, " what wouldst thou ? " 
 
 " You black-faced fiend," said I, " raise but your voice, and 
 you are dead ! " 
 
 44 And afterwards," said she, "do you suppose that you can 
 escape ? The torments of hell are not so terrible as the tor- 
 tures that Holkar will invent for thee." 
 
 " Tortures, madam ? " answered I, coolly. " Fiddlesticks ! 
 You will neither betray me, nor will I be put to the torture : on 
 the contrary, you will give me your best jewels and facilitate 
 my escape to the fort. Don't grind your teeth and swear at 
 me. Listen, madam : you know this dress and these arms ; — • 
 they are the arms of yout husband, Bobbachy Bahawder — my 
 
1 86 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 prisoner. He now lies in yonder fort, and if I do not return 
 before daylight, at swirise he dies : and then, when they send his 
 corpse back to Holkar, what will you, his widow, do ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " said she, shuddering, "spare me, spare me ! " 
 
 " I'll tell you what you will do. You will have the pleasure 
 of dying along with him — of being roasted, madam : an agonizing 
 death, from which your father cannot save you, to which he will 
 be the first man to condemn and conduct you. Ha ! I see we 
 understand each other, and you will give me over the cash-box 
 and jewels." And so saying I threw myself back with the calm- 
 est air imaginable, flinging the pistols over to her. " Light me 
 a pipe, my love," said I, "and then go and hand me over the 
 dollars ; do you hear ? " You see I had her in my power — up 
 a tree, as the Americans say, and she very humbly lighted my 
 pipe for me, and then departed for the goods I spoke about. 
 
 What a thing is luck ! If Loll Mahommed had not been 
 made to take that ride round the camp, I should infallibly have 
 been lost. 
 
 My supper, my quarrel with the princess, and my pipe after- 
 wards, had occupied a couple of hours of my time. The prin- 
 cess returned from her quest, and brought with her the box, 
 containing valuables to the amount of about three millions 
 sterling. (I was cheated of them afterwards, but have the box 
 still, a plain deal one.) I was just about to take my departure, 
 when a tremendous knocking, shouting, and screaming was 
 heard at the entrance of the tent. It was Holkar himself, 
 accompanied by that cursed Loll Mahommed, who, after his 
 punishment, found his master restored to good-humor, and had 
 communicated to him his firm conviction that I was an im- 
 postor. 
 
 " Ho, Begum ! " shouted he, in the ante-room (for he and 
 his people could not enter the women's apartments), " speak, 
 O my daughter ! is your husband returned ? " 
 
 " Speak, madam," said I, " or remember the roasting." 
 
 " He is, papa," said the Begum. 
 
 " Are you sure ? Ho ! ho ! ho ! " (the old ruffian was laugh- 
 ing outside) — " are you sure it is ? — Ha ! aha ! — he-e-e /" 
 
 " Indeed it is he, and no other. I pray you, father, to go, 
 and to pass no more such shameless jests on your daughter. 
 Have I ever seen the face of any other man ? " And hereat 
 she began to weep as if her heart would break — the deceitful 
 minx ! 
 
 Holkar's laugh was instantly turned to fury. " Oh, you liar 
 and eternal thief ! " said he, turning round (as I presume, for 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 187 
 
 I could only hear) to Loll Mahommed, " to make your prince 
 eat such monstrous dirt as this ! Furoshes, seize tnis man. I 
 dismiss him from my service, I degrade him from his rank, I 
 appropriate to myself all his property : and hark ye, furoshes, 
 
 GIVE HIM A HUNDRED DOZEN MORE ! " 
 
 Again I heard the whacks of the bamboos, and peace flowed 
 
 into my soul. 
 
 # * f * # 
 
 Just as morn began to break, two figures were seen to ap- 
 proach the little fortress of Futtyghur : one was a woman wrap- 
 ped closely in a veil, the other a warrior, remarkable for the 
 size and manly beauty of his form, who carried in his hand a 
 deal box of considerable size. The warrior at the gate gave 
 the word and was admitted, the woman returned slowly to the 
 Indian camp. Her name was Puttee Rooge * his was — 
 G. O'G. G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 FAMINE IN THE GARRISON. 
 
 Thus my dangers for the night being overcome, I hastened 
 with my precious box into my own apartment, which communi- 
 cated with another, where I had left my prisoner, with a guard 
 to report if he should recover, and to prevent his escape. My 
 servant, Ghorumsaug, was one of the guard. I called him, and 
 the fellow came, looking very much confused and frightened, as 
 it seemed, at my appearance. 
 
 " Why, Ghorumsaug," said I, " what makes thee look so 
 pale, fellow ? " (He was as white as a sheet.) " It is thy mas- 
 ter, dost thou not remember him ? " The man had seen me 
 dress myself in the Pitan's clothes, but was not present when 
 I had blacked my face and beard in the manner I have de- 
 scribed. 
 
 "OBramah, Vishnu, and Mahomet!" cried the faithful 
 fellow, " and do I see my dear master disguised in this way ? 
 For heaven's sake let me rid you of this odious black paint ; 
 for what will the ladies say in the ball-room, if the beautiful 
 Feringhee should appear amongst them with his roses turned 
 into coal ? " 
 
i88 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 I am still one of the finest men in Europe, and at the time 
 of which I write, when only two-and-twenty, I confess I was a 
 little vain of my personal appearance, and not very willing to 
 appear before my dear Belinda disguised like a blackamoor. I 
 allowed Ghorumsaug to divest me of the heathenish armor and 
 habiliments which I wore ; and having, with a world of scrub- 
 bing and trouble, divested my face and beard of their black 
 tinge, I put on my own becoming uniform, and hastened to wait 
 on the ladies ; hastened, I say, — although delayed would have 
 been the better word, for the operation of bleaching lasted at 
 least two hours. 
 
 " How is the prisoner, Ghorumsaug ? u said I, before leaving 
 my apartment. 
 
 " He has recovered from the blow which the Lion dealt 
 him ; two men and myself watch over him ; and Macgillicuddy 
 Sahib (the second in command) has just been the rounds, and 
 has seen that all was secure." 
 
 I bade Ghorumsaug help me to put away my chest of treas- 
 ure (my exultation in taking it was so great that I could not 
 help informing him of its contents) ; and this done, I de- 
 spatched him to his post near the prisoner, while I prepared to 
 sally forth and pay my respects to the fair creatures under my 
 protection. " What good after all have I done," thought I to 
 myself, " in this expedition which I had so rashly undertaken ? " 
 I had seen the renowned Holkar, I had been in the heart of 
 his camp ; I knew the disposition of his troops, that there 
 were eleven thousand of them, and that he only waited for his 
 guns to make a regular attack on the fort. I had seen Puttee 
 Rooge ; I had robbed her (I say robbed her, and I don't care 
 what the reader or any other man may think of the act,) of a 
 deal box, containing jewels to the amount of three millions 
 sterling, the property of herself and husband. 
 
 Three millions in money and jewels ! And what the deuce 
 were money and jewels to me or to my poor garrison ? Could 
 my adorable Miss Bulcher eat a fricassee of diamonds, or, 
 Cleopatra-like, melt down pearls to her tea ? Could I, careless 
 as I am about food, with a stomach that would digest anything 
 — (once, in Spain, I ate the leg of a horse during a famine, and 
 was so eager to swallow this morsel that I bolted the shoe, as 
 well as the hoof, and never felt the slightest inconvenience from 
 either), — could I, I say, expect to live long and well upon a 
 ragout of rupees, or a dish of stewed emeralds and rubies ? 
 With all the wealth of Crcesus before me I felt melancholy ; 
 and would have paid cheerfully its weight in carats for a good 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 
 
 189 
 
 honest round of boiled beef. Wealth, wealth, what art thou ? 
 What is gold ? — Soft metal. What are diamonds ? — Shining 
 tinsel. The great wealth-winners, the only fame-achievers, the 
 sole objects worthy of a soldier's consideration, are beefsteaks, 
 gunpowder, and cold iron. 
 
 The two latter means of competency we possessed ; I had 
 in my own apartments a small store of gunpowder (keeping it 
 under my own bed, with a candle burning for fear of accidents) ; 
 I had 14 pieces of artillery (4 long 48's and 4 carronades, 5 
 howitzers, and a long brass mortar, for grape, which I had taken 
 myself at the battle of Assaye), and muskets for ten times my 
 force. My garrison, as I have told the reader in a previous 
 number, consisted of 40 men, two chaplains, and a surgeon ; 
 add to these my guests, 83 in number, of whom nine only were 
 gentlemen (in tights, powder, pigtails, and silk stockings, who 
 had come out merely for a dance, and found themselves in for 
 a siege). Such were our numbers : — 
 
 count myself good for a thousand, for so I was regularly 
 rated in the army : with this great benefit to it, that I only con- 
 sumed as much as an ordinary mortal. We were then, as far 
 as the victuals went, 126 mouths ; as combatants we numbered 
 1,040 gallant men, with 12 guns and a fort, against Holkar and 
 his 12,000. No such alarming odds, if — 
 
 Iff — ay, there was the rub — if we had shot, as well as powder 
 for our guns ; if we had not only men but meat. Of the former 
 commodity we had only three rounds for each piece. Of the 
 latter, upon my sacred honor, to feed 126 souls, we had but 
 
 Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. 
 
 Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer. 
 
 Of soda-water, four ditto. 
 
 Two bottles of fine Spanish olives. 
 
 Raspberry cream — the remainder of two dishes. 
 
 Seven macaroons, lying in the puddle of a demolished trifle. 
 
 Half a drum of best Turkey figs. 
 
 Some bits of broken bread ; two Dutch cheeses (whole) ; the crust of an old 
 
 Stilton ; and about an ounce of almonds and raisins. 
 Three ham-sandwiches, and a pot of currant-jelly, and 197 bottles of brandy, rum, 
 
 madeira, pale ale (my private stock) ; a couple of hard eggs for a salad, and 
 
 a flask of Florence oil. 
 
 Troops and artillerymen . 
 Ladies . . ..... 
 
 Other non-combatants . . 
 Major-Gen. O'G. Gahagan, 
 
 1,000 
 
 40 
 74 
 
 11 
 
 This was the provision for the whole garrison ! The men 
 
 J 3 
 
190 
 
 HE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 after supper had seized upon the relics of the repast, as they 
 were carried off from the table • and these were the miserable 
 remnants I found and counted on my return, taking good care 
 to lock the door of the supper-room, and treasure what little 
 sustenance still remained in it. 
 
 When I appeared in the saloon, now lighted up by the morn- 
 ing sun, I not only caused a sensation myself, but felt one in my 
 own bosom, which was of the most painful description. Oh, my 
 "reader ! may you never behold such a sight as that which pre- 
 sented itself : eighty-three men and women in ball-dresses ; the 
 former with their lank powdered locks streaming over their 
 faces ; the latter with faded flowers, uncurled wigs, smudged 
 rouge, blear eyes, draggling feathers, rumpled satins — each 
 more desperately melancholy and hideous than the other — each, 
 except my beloved Belinda Bulcher, whose raven ringlets never 
 having been in curl could of course never go out of curl ; whose 
 cheek, pale as the lily, could, as it may naturally be supposed, 
 grow no paler ; whose neck and beauteous arms, dazzling as 
 alabaster, needed no pearl-powder, and therefore, as I need not 
 state, did not suffer because the pearl-powder had come off. 
 Joy (deft link-boy !) lit his lamps in each of her eyes as I 
 entered. As if I had been her sun, her spring, lo ! blushing 
 roses mantled in her cheek ! Seventy-three ladies, as I entered, 
 opened their fire upon me, and stunned me with cross-ques- 
 tions, regarding my adventures in the camp — she, as she saw me, 
 gave a faint scream, (the sweetest, sure, that ever gurgled 
 through the throat of a woman !) then started up — then made 
 as if she would sit down — then moved backwards — then tottered 
 forwards — then tumbled into my — Psha ! why recall, why 
 attempt to describe that delicious — that passionate greeting of 
 two young hearts ? What was the surrounding crowd to us ? 
 What cared we for the sneers of the men, the titters of the 
 jealous women, the shrill " Upon my word ! " of the elder Miss 
 Bulcher, and the loud expostulations of Belinda's mamma? 
 The brave girl loved me, and wept in my arms. " Goliah ! my 
 Goliah ! " said she, " my brave, my beautiful, thou art returned, 
 and hope comes back with thee. Oh ! who can tell the anguish 
 of my soul, during this dreadful, dreadful night ! " Other similar 
 ejaculations of love and joy she uttered ; and if I had perilled 
 life in her service, if I did believe that hope of escape there 
 was none, so exquisite was the moment of our meeting, that I 
 
 forgot all else in this overwhelming joy ! 
 
 # # * # # 
 
 [The Major's description of this meeting, which lasted at 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 191 
 
 the very most not ten seconds, occupies thirteen pages of writ- 
 ing. We have been compelled to dock off twelve-and-a-half ; 
 for the whole passage, though highly creditable to his feelings, 
 
 might possibly be tedious to the reader.] 
 
 # * # # # 
 
 As I said, the ladies and gentlemen were inclined to sneer, 
 and were giggling audibly. I led the dear girl to a chair, and, 
 scowling round with a tremendous fierceness, which those who 
 know me know I can sometimes put on, I shouted out, " Hark 
 ye ! men and women — I am this lady's truest knight — her hus- 
 band I hope one day to be. I am commander, too, in this fort 
 ■ — the enemy is without it ; another word of mockery — another 
 glance of scorn — and, by heaven, I will hurl every man and 
 woman from the battlements, a prey to the ruffianly Holkar ! " 
 This quieted them. I am a man of my word, and none of them 
 stirred or looked disrespectfully from that moment. 
 
 It was now my turn to make them look foolish. Mrs. Vande- 
 gobbleschroy (whose unfailing appetite is pretty well known to 
 every person who has been in India) cried, " Well, Captain 
 Gahagan, your ball has been pleasant, and the supper was de- 
 spatched so long ago, that myself and the ladies would be very 
 glad of a little breakfast." And Mrs. Van giggled as if she 
 had made a very witty and reasonable speech. " Oh ! break- 
 fast by all means," said the rest ; " we really are dying for a 
 warm cup of tea." 
 
 " Is it bohay tay or souchong tay that you'd like, ladies ? " 
 says I. 
 
 " Nonsense, you silly man ; any tea you like," said fat Mrs. 
 Van. 
 
 " What do you say, then, to some prime gunpowder ? " Of 
 course they said it was the very thing. 
 
 " And do you like hot rowls or cowld — muffins or crumpets 
 — fresh butter or salt? And you, gentlemen, what do you say 
 to some ilegant divvled-kidneys for yourselves, and just a trifle 
 of grilled turkeys, and a couple of hundthred new-laid eggs 
 for the ladies ? " 
 
 " Pooh, pooh ! be it as you will, my dear fellow," answered 
 they all. 
 
 " But stop," says I. " O ladies, O ladies : O gentlemen, 
 gentlemen, that you should ever have come to the quarters of 
 Goliah Gahagan, and he been without — " 
 
 " What ? " said they, in a breath. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! I have not got a single stick of chocolate in 
 the whole house." 
 
I9 2 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 "Well, well, we can do without it." 
 " Or a single pound of coffee." 
 
 " Never mind ; let that pass too." (Mrs. Van and the rest 
 were beginning to look alarmed.) 
 
 "And about the kidneys — now I remember, the black div- 
 vies outside the fort have seized upon all the sheep ; and how 
 are we to have kidneys without them ? " (Here there was a 
 slight o — o — o !) 
 
 " And with regard to the milk and crame, it may be remarked 
 that the cows are likewise in pawn, and not a single drop can 
 be had for money or love : but we can beat up eggs, you know, 
 in the tay, which will be just as good." 
 
 " Oh ! just as good." 
 
 " Only the divvle's in the luck, there's not a fresh egg to be 
 had — no, nor a fresh chicken," continued I, " nor a stale one 
 either ; nor a tayspoonful of souchong, nor a thimbleful of bo- 
 hay \ nor the laste taste in life of butther, salt or fresh • nor 
 hot rowls or cowld ! " 
 
 " In the name of heaven ! " said Mrs. Van, growing very 
 pale, " what is there, then ? " 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, I'll tell you what there is now,' 
 shouted I. " There's 
 
 " Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham. 
 Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer,'' &c, &c, &c. 
 
 And I went through the whole list of eatables as before, end- 
 ing with the ham-sandwiches and the pot of jelly. 
 
 " Law ! Mr. Gahagan," said Mrs. Colonel Vandegobble- 
 schroy, "give me the ham-sandwiches — I must manage to break- 
 fast off them." 
 
 And you should have heard the pretty to-do there was at 
 this modest proposition ! Of course I did not accede to it — 
 why should I ? I was the commander of the fort, and intended 
 to keep these three very sandwiches for the use of myself and 
 my dear Belinda. " Ladies," said I, " there are in this fort one 
 hundred and twenty-six souls, and this is all the food which is 
 to last us during the siege. Meat there is none — of drink there 
 is a tolerable quantity ; and at one o'clock punctually, a glass 
 of wine and one olive shall be served out to each woman : the 
 men will receive two glasses, and an olive and a fig — and this 
 must be your food during the siege. Lord Lake cannot be ab- 
 sent more than three days ; and if he be — why, still there is a 
 chance — why do I say a chance ? — a certainty of escaping from 
 the hands of these ruffians." 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 193 
 
 " Oh, name it, name it, dear Captain Gahagan ! " screeched 
 the whole covey at a breath. 
 
 " It lies/' answered I, " in the powder magazine. I will blow 
 this fort, and all it contains, to atoms, ere it becomes the prey 
 of Holkar." 
 
 The women, at this, raised a squeal that might have been 
 heard in Holkar's camp, and fainted in different directions ; 
 but my dear Belinda whispered in my ear, " Well done, thou 
 noble knight ! bravely said, my heart's Gotiah ! " I felt I was 
 right : I could have blown her up twenty times for the luxury 
 of that single moment ! " And now, ladies," said I, " I must 
 * leave you. The two chaplains will remain with you to administer 
 professional consolation — the other gentlemen will follow me 
 up stairs to the ramparts, where I shall find plenty of work for 
 them." 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 THE ESCAPE. 
 
 Loth as they were, these gentlemen had nothing for it but 
 to obey, and they accordingly followed me to the ramparts, 
 where I proceeded to review my men. The fort, in my ab- 
 sence, had been left in command of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy, 
 a countryman of my own (with whom, as may be seen in an 
 early chapter of my memoirs, I had an affair of honor) ; and 
 the prisoner Bobbachy Bahawder, whom I had only stunned, 
 never wishing to kill him, had been left in charge of that officer. 
 Three of the garrison (one of them a man of the Ahmednuggar 
 Irregulars, my own body-servant, Ghorumsaug above named/) 
 were appointed to watch the captive by turns, and never leave 
 him out of their sight. The lieutenant was instructed to look 
 to them and to their prisoner, and as Bobbachy was severely 
 injured by the blow which I had given him, and was, moreover, 
 bound hand and foot, and gagged smartly with cords, I con- 
 sidered myself sure of his person. 
 
 Macgillicuddy did not make his appearance when I reviewed 
 my little force, and the three havildars were likewise absent : 
 this did not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their 
 prisoner; but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I de- 
 
194 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 spatched a messenger to him, and ordered him to appear im- 
 mediately. 
 
 The messenger came back ; he was looking ghastly pale : 
 he whispered some information into my ear, which instantly 
 caused me to hasten to the apartments where I had caused 
 Bobbachv Bahawder to be confined. 
 
 The men had fled ; — Bobbachy had fled ; and in his place, 
 fancy my astonishment when I found — with a rope cutting his 
 naturally wide mouth almost into his ears — with a dreadful 
 sabre-cut across his forehead — with his legs tied over his head, 
 and his arms tied between his legs — my unhappy, my attached 
 friend — Mortimer Macgillicuddy ! 
 
 He had been in this position for about three hours — it was 
 the very position in which I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to 
 be placed — an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one which 
 renders escape impossible, unless treason aid the prisoner. 
 
 I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position : I 
 poured half a bottle of whiskey down the immensely enlarged 
 orifice of his mouth, and when he had been released, he in- 
 formed me of the circumstances that had taken place. 
 
 Fool that I was ! idiot ! — upon my return to the fort, to have 
 been anxious about my personal appearance, and to have spent 
 a couple of hours in removing the artificial blackening from my 
 beard and complexion, instead of going to examine my prisoner 
 — when his escape would have been prevented. O foppery, 
 foppery ! — it was that cursed love of personal appearance which 
 had led me to forget my duty to my general, my country, my 
 monarch, and my own honor ! 
 
 Thus it was that the escape took place : — My own fellow of 
 the Irregulars, whom I had summoned to dress me, performed 
 the operation to my satisfaction, invested me with the elegant 
 uniform of my corps, and removed the Pitan's disguise, which 
 I had taken from the back of the prostrate Bobbachy Bahawder. 
 What did the rogue do next ? — Why, he carried back the dress 
 to the Bobbachy — he put it, once more, on its right owner ; he 
 and his infernal black companions (who had been won over by 
 the Bobbachy with promises of enormous reward), gagged 
 Macgillicuddy, who was going the rounds, and then marched 
 with the Indian coolly up to the outer gate, and gave the word. 
 The sentinel, thinking it was myself who had first come in, and 
 was as likely to go out again — (indeed my rascally valet said 
 that Gahagan Sahib was about to go out with him and his two 
 companions to reconnoitre,) — opened the gates, and off they 
 went ! 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 This accounted for the confusion of my valet when 1 
 entered ! — and for the scoundrel's speech, that the lieutenant 
 had just been the rounds • — he /iad, poor fellow, and had been 
 seized and bound in this cruel way. The three men, with.their 
 liberated prisoner, had just been on the point of escape, when 
 my arrival disconcerted them : I had changed the guard at the 
 gate (whom they had won over likewise) ; and yet, although they 
 had overcome poor Mac, and although they were ready for the 
 start, they had positively no means for effecting their escape, 
 until I was ass enough to put means in their way. Fool ! fool ! 
 thrice besotted fool that I was, to think of my own silly person 
 when I should have been occupied solely with my public duty. 
 
 From Macgillicucldy's incoherent accounts, as he was gasp- 
 ing from the effects of the gag and the whiskey he had taken 
 to revive him, and from my own subsequent observations, I 
 learned this sad story. A sudden and painful thought struck 
 me — my precious box ! — I rushed back, I found that box — I 
 have it still. Opening it, there, where I had left ingots, sacks 
 of bright tomauns, kopeks and rupees, strings of diamonds as 
 big as ducks' eggs, rubies as red as the lips of my Belinda, 
 countless strings of pearls, amethysts, emeralds, piles upon 
 piles of bank-notes — I found — a piece of paper ! with a few 
 lines in the Sanscrit language, which are thus, word for word, 
 translated : — 
 
 " EPIGRAM. 
 
 " ( On disappointing a certain Major.) 
 
 " The conquering lion return'd with his prey, 
 And safe in his cavern he set it, 
 The sly little fox stole the booty away ; 
 And as he escaped, to the lion did say, 
 * Aha ! don't you wish you may get it ? ' " 
 
 Confusion ! Oh, how my blood boiled as I read these cut- 
 ting lines. I stamped, — I swore, — I don't know to what insane 
 lengths my rage might have carried me, had not at this moment 
 a soldier rushed in, screaming, " The enemy, the enemy ! " 
 
i 9 6 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 It was high time, indeed, that I should make my appearance. 
 Waving my sword with one hand and seizing my telescope with 
 the other, I at once frightened and examined the enemy. Well 
 they knew when they saw that flamingo plume floating in the 
 breeze — that awful figure standing in the breach — that waving 
 war-sword sparkling in the sky — well, I say, they knew the 
 name of the humble individual who owned the sword, the 
 plume, and the figure. The ruffians were mustered in front, 
 the cavalry behind. The flags were flying, the drums, gongs, 
 tambourines, violoncellos, and other instruments of Eastern 
 music, raised in the air a strange, barbaric melody ; the officers 
 (yatabals), mounted on white dromedaries, were seen galloping 
 to and fro, carrying to the advancing hosts the orders of Holkar. 
 
 You see that two sides of the fort of Futtyghur (rising as it 
 does on a roch that is almost perpendicular) are defended by 
 the Burrumpooter river, two hundred feet deep at this point, 
 and a thousand yards wide, so that I had no fear about them 
 attacking me in that quarter. My guns, therefore (with their 
 six and thirty miserable charges of shot) were dragged round 
 to the point at which I conceived Holkar would be most likely 
 to attack me. I was in a situation that I did not dare to fire, 
 except at such times as I could kill a hundred men by a single 
 discharge of a cannon ; so the attacking party marched and 
 marched, very strongly, about a mile and a half off, the ele- 
 phants marching without receiving the slightest damage from us, 
 until they had come to within four hundred yards of our walls 
 (the rogues knew all the secrets of our weakness, through the 
 betrayal of the dastardly Ghorumsaug, or they never would 
 have ventured so near). At that distance — it was about the 
 spot where the Futtyghur hill began gradually to rise — the 
 invading force stopped ; the elephants drew up in a line, at 
 right angles with our wall (the fools ! they thought they should 
 expose themselves too much by taking a position to it) ; the 
 cavalry halted too, and — after the deuce's own flourish of 
 trumpets and banging of gongs, to be sure, — somebody, in a 
 flame-colored satin dress, with an immense jewel blazing in his 
 pugree (that looked through my telescope like a small but very 
 
OF MAJOR G A HAG AN. 
 
 197 
 
 bright planet), got up from the back of one of the very biggest 
 elephants, and began a speech. 
 
 The elephants were, as I said, in a line formed with admi- 
 rable percision, about three hundred of them. The following 
 little diagram will explain matters : — 
 
 E is the line of elephants., F is the wall of the fort. G a gun 
 in the fort. Now the reader will see what I did. 
 
 The elephants were standing, their trunks waggling to and 
 fro gracefully before them ; and I, with superhuman skill and 
 activity, brought the gun G (a devilish long brass gun) to bear 
 upon them. I pointed it myself ; bang ! it went, and what was 
 the consequence ? ~ Why, this : — 
 
 F is the fort, as before. E, the elephants, as we have previ- 
 ously seen them. What then is X ? X is. the line taken by 
 the ball fires from C, which took off one hundred and thirty-four 
 elephants' trunks, and only spent itself in the tusk of a very old 
 animal, that, stood the hundred and thirty-fifth ! 
 
 I say that such a shot was never fired before or since ; thai 
 a gun was never pointed in such a way. Suppose I had been 
 a common man, and contented myself with firing bang at the 
 head of the first animal ? An ass would have done it, prided 
 himself had he hit his mark, and what would have been the 
 consequence ? Why, that the ball might have killed two ele- 
 phants and wounded a third ; but here, probably, it would have 
 stopped, and done no further mischief. The trunk was the 
 place at which to aim ; there are no bones there ; and away, 
 consequently, went the bullet, shearing, as I have said, through 
 
 6 
 F 
 
 E 
 
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 one hundred and thirty five probosces. Heavens ! what a howl 
 there was when the shot took effect ! What a sudden stoppage 
 of Holkar's speech ! What a hideous snorting of elephants ? 
 What a rush backwards was made by the whole army, as if 
 some demon was pursuing them ! 
 
 Away they went. No sooner did I see them in full retreat, 
 than, rushing forward myself, I shouted to my men, " My 
 friends, yonder lies your dinner ! " We flung open the gates — ■ 
 we tore down to the spot where the elephants had fallen : seven 
 of them were killed ; and of those that escaped to die of their 
 hideous wounds elsewhere, most had left their trunks behind 
 them. A great quantity of them were seized ; and I myself, 
 cutting up with my scimitar a couple of the fallen animals, as 
 a butcher would a calf, motioned to the men to take the pieces 
 back to the fort, where barbacued elephant was served round 
 for dinner instead of the miserable allowance of an olive and a 
 glass of wine, which I had promised to my female friends, in 
 my speech to them. The animal reserved for the ladies was a 
 young white one — the fattest and tenderest I ever ate in my 
 life : they are very fair eating, but the flesh has an india-rubber 
 flavor, which until one is accustomed to it, is unpalatable. 
 
 It was well that I had obtained this supply, for, during my 
 absence upon the works, Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy and one or 
 two others had forced their way into the supper-room, and 
 devoured every morsel of the garrison larder, with the excep- 
 tion of the cheeses, the olives, and the wine, which were locked 
 up in my own apartment, before which stood a sentinel. Dis- 
 gusting Mrs. Van ! When I heard of her gluttony, I had al- 
 most a mind to eat her. However, we made a very comfortable 
 dinner off the barbacued steaks, and when everybody had done, 
 had the comfort of knowing that there was enough for one 
 meal more. 
 
 The next day, as I expected, the enemy attacked us in 
 great force, attempting to escalade the fort ; but by the help of 
 my guns, and my good sword, by the distinguished bravery of 
 Lieutenant Macgillicuddy and the rest of the garrison, we beat 
 this attack off completely, the enemy sustaining a loss of seven 
 hundred men. We were victorious ; but when another attack 
 was made, what were we to do ? We had still a little powder 
 left ; but had fired off all the shot, stones, iron-bars, &c, in the 
 garrison ! On this day, too, we devoured the last morsel of our 
 food : I shall never forget Mrs. Vandegobbleschroy's despair- 
 ing look, as I saw her sitting alone, attempting to make some 
 impression -or the little white elephant's roasted tail. 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 199 
 
 The third day the attack was repeated. The resources of 
 genius are never at an end. Yesterday I had no ammunition \ 
 to day, I discovered charges sufficient for two guns, and two 
 swivels, which were much longer, but had bores of about blun- 
 derbuss size. 
 
 This time my friend Loll Mahommed, who had received, as 
 the reader may remember, such a bastinadoing for my sake, 
 headed the attack. The poor wretch could not walk, but he 
 was carried in an open palanquin, and came on waving his 
 sword, and cursing horribly in his Hindustan jargon. Behind 
 him came troops of matchlock-men, who picked off every one 
 of our men who showed their noses above the ramparts : and 
 a great host of blackamoors with scaling-ladders, bundles to 
 fill the ditch, fascines, gabions, culverins, demi-lunes, counter- 
 scarps, and all the other appurtenances of offensive war. 
 
 On they came : my guns and men were ready for them. 
 You will ask how many pieces were loaded ? I answer, that 
 though my garrison were without food, I knew my duty as an 
 officer — and had put the two Dutch cheeses into the two guns, and 
 had crammed the contents of a bottle of olives into each swivel. 
 
 They advanced, — whish ! went one of the Dutch cheeses, 
 bang ! went the other. Alas ! they did little execution. In 
 their first contact with an opposing body, they certainly floored 
 it ; but they became at once like so much Welsh-rabbit, and did 
 no execution beyond the man whom they struck down. 
 
 " Hogree, pogree, wongree-fum (praise to Allah and the 
 forty-nine Imaums!)" shouted out the ferocious Loll Ma- 
 hommed when he saw the failure of my shot. " Onward, sons 
 of the Prophet ! the infidel has no more ammunition. A hun- 
 dred thousand lacs of rupees to the man who brings me 
 Gahagan's head ! " 
 
 His men set up a shout, and rushed forward — he, to do him 
 justice, was at the very head, urging on his own palanquin- 
 bearers, and poking them with the tip of his scimitar. They 
 came panting up the hill : I was black with rage, but it was the 
 cold, concentrated rage of despair. " Macgillicuddy, ,, said I, 
 calling that faithful officer, "you know where the barrels of 
 powder are ? He did. " You know the use to make of them ? " 
 He did. He grasped my hand. " Goliah," said he, " fare- 
 well ! I swear that the fort shall be in atoms, as soon as 
 yonder unbelievers have carried it. Oh, my poor mother ! " 
 added the gallant youth, as sighing, yet fearless, he retired to 
 his post. 
 
 I gave one thought to my blessed, my beautiful Belinda, and 
 
200 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 then, stepping into the front, took down one of the swivels ; — • 
 a shower of matchlock balls came whizzing round my head. I 
 did not heed them. 
 
 I took the swivel, and aimed coolly. Loll Mahommed, his 
 palanquin, and his men, were now not above two hundred yards 
 from the fort. Loll was straight before me, gesticulating and 
 shouting to his men. I fired — bang ! ! ! 
 
 I aimed so true, that one hundred and seventeen best Spanish 
 olives were lodged in a lump in the face of the unhappy Loll 
 Mahommed. The wretch, uttering a yell the most hideous and 
 unearthly I ever heard, fell back dead ; the frightened bearers 
 flung down the palanquin and ran — the whole host ran as one 
 man : their screams might be heard for leagues. " Tomasha, 
 tomasha," they cried, u it is enchantment ! " Away they fled, 
 and the victory a third time was ours. Soon as the fight was 
 done, I flew back to my Belinda. We had eaten nothing for 
 twenty-four hours, but I forgot hunger in the thought of once 
 more beholding her! 
 
 The sweet soul turned towards me with a sickly smile as I 
 entered, and almost fainted in my arms but alas ! it was not 
 love which caused in her bosom an emotion so strong — it was 
 hunger ! " Oh ! my Goliah," whispered she, " for three days I 
 have not tasted food — I could not eat that horrid elephant yes- 
 terday : but now — oh ! heaven ! # * # " She could say no more, 
 but sank almost lifeless on my shoulder. I administered to her 
 a trifling dram of rum, which revived her for a moment, and 
 then rushed down stairs, determined that if it were a piece of 
 my own leg, she should still have something to satisfy her 
 hunger. Luckily I remembered that three or four elephants 
 were still lying in the field, having been killed by us in the first 
 action, two days before. Necessity, thought I, has no law ; my 
 adorable girl must eat elephant, until she can get something 
 better. 
 
 I rushed into the court where the men were, for the most 
 part, assembled. " Men," said I, " our larder is empty ; we 
 must fill it as we did the day before yesterday. Who will 
 follow Gahagan on a foraging party ? " I expected that, as on 
 former occasions, every man would offer to accompany me. 
 
 To my astonishment not a soul moved — a murmur arose 
 among the troops ; and at last one of the oldest and bravest 
 came forward. 
 
 " Captain," he said, " it is of no use ; we cannot feed upon 
 elephants forever ; we have not a grain of powder left, and 
 must give up the fort when the attack is made to-morrow. We 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 20I 
 
 may as well be prisoners now as then, and we won't go 
 elephant-hunting any more." 
 
 " Ruffian ! " I said, " he who first talks of surrender, dies ! " 
 and I cut him down. " Is there any one else who wishes to 
 speak ? " 
 
 No one stirred. 
 
 " Cowards ! miserable cowards ! " shouted I ; " what, you 
 dare not move for fear of death, at the hands of those wretches 
 who even now fled before your arms — what, do I say your 
 arms? — before mine! — alone I did it; and as alone I routed 
 the foe, alone I will victual the fortress ! Ho ! open the 
 gate ! " 
 
 I rushed out ; not a single man would follow. The bodies 
 of the elephants that we had killed still lay on the ground 
 where they had fallen, about four hundred yards from the fort. 
 
 I descended calmly the hill, a very steep one, and coming to 
 the spot, took my pick of the animals, choosing a tolerably 
 small and plump one, of about thirteen feet high, which the 
 vultures had respected. I threw this animal over my shoulders, 
 and made for the fort. 
 
 As I marched up the acclivity, whizz — pifl — whirr ! came 
 the balls over my head ; and pitter-patter, pitter-patter ! they 
 fell on the body of the elephant like drops of rain. The enemy 
 were behind me ; I knew it and quickened my pace. I heard 
 the gallop of their horse : they came nearer, nearer ; I was 
 within a hundred yards of the fort — seventy — fifty ! I strained 
 every nerve ; I panted with the superhuman exertion — I ran — 
 could a man run very fast with such a tremendous weight on 
 his shoulders ? 
 
 Up came the enemy ; fifty horsemen were shouting and 
 screaming at my tail. O heaven ! five yards more — one 
 moment — and I am saved ! It is done — I strain the last strain 
 — I make the last step — I fling forward my precious burden 
 into the gate opened wide to receive me and it, and — I fall ! 
 The gate thunders to, and I am left on the outside ! Fifty 
 knives are gleaming before my bloodshot eyes — fifty black 
 hands are at my throat, when a voice exclaims, " Stop ! — kill 
 him not, it is Gujputi ! " A film came over my eyes — exhaust- 
 ed nature would bear no more. 
 
202 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR. 
 
 When I awoke from the trance into which I had fallen, I 
 found myself in a bath, surrounded by innumerable black faces \ 
 and a Hindoo pothukoor (whence our word apothecary) feeling 
 my pulse and looking at me with an air of sagacity. 
 
 " Where am I ? " I exclaimed, looking round and examining 
 the strange faces, and the strange apartment which met my 
 view. " Bekhusm ! " said the apothecary. " Silence ! Gaha- 
 gan Sahib is in the hands of those who know his valor, and will 
 save his life.'' 
 
 " Know my valor, slave ? Of course you do," said I ; " but 
 
 the fort — the garrison — the elephant — Belinda, my love — my 
 
 darling — Macgillicuddy — the scoundrelly mutineers — the deal 
 k 0 # * # # » 
 
 I could say no more ; the painful recollections pressed so 
 heavily upon my poor shattered mind and frame, that both 
 failed once more. I fainted again, and I know not how long I 
 lay insensible. 
 
 " Again, however, I came to my senses : the pothukoor ap- 
 plied restoratives, and after a slumber of some hours I awoke, 
 much refreshed. I had no wound ; my repeated swoons had 
 been brought on (as indeed well they might) by my gigantic 
 efforts in carrying the elephant up a steep hill a quarter of a 
 mile in length. Walking, the task is bad enough ; but running, 
 it is the deuce ; and I would recommend any of my readers who 
 may be " disposed to try and carry a dead elephant, never, on 
 any account, to go a pace of more than five miles an hour. 
 
 Scarcely was I awake, when I heard the clash of arms at 
 my door (plainly indicating that sentinels were posted there), 
 and a single old gentleman, richly habited, entered the room. 
 Did my eyes deceive me ? I had surely seen him before. No 
 — yes — no — yes — it was he : the snowy white beard, the mild 
 eyes, the nose flattened to a jelly, and level with the rest of the 
 venerable face, proclaimed him at once to be — Saadut Alee Beg 
 Bimbukchee, Holkar's prime vizier; whose nose, as the reader 
 may recollect, his highness had flattened with his kaleawn dur- 
 ing my interview with him in the Pitan's disguise. I now knew 
 my fate but too well — I was in the hands of Holkar. 
 
OF MAJOR G All AG AN. 
 
 203 
 
 Saadut Alea Beg Bimbukchee slowly advanced towards me, 
 and with a mild air of benevolence, which distinguished that 
 excellent man (he was torn to pieces by wild horses the year 
 after, on account of a difference with Holkar), he came to my 
 bedside, and taking gently my hand, said, " Life and death, my 
 son, are not. ours. Strength is deceitful, valor is unavailing, 
 fame is only wind — the nightingale sings of the rose all night — 
 where is the rose in the morning ? Booch, booch ! it is withered 
 by a frost. The rose makes remarks regarding the nightingale, 
 and where is that delightful song-bird ? Pena-bekhoda, he is 
 netted, plucked, spitted, and roasted ! Who knows how mis- 
 fortune comes ? It has come to Gahagan Gujputi ! " 
 
 " It is well," said I, stoutly, and in the Malay language. 
 " Gahagan Gujputi will bear it like a man." 
 
 " No doubt — like a wise man and a brave one ; but there is 
 no lane so long to which there is not a turning, no night so 
 black to which there comes not a morning. Icy winter is fol- 
 lowed by merry spring-time — grief is often succeeded by joy." 
 
 " Interpret, O riddler!" said I; "Gahagan Khan is no 
 reader of puzzles — no prating mollah. Gujputi loves not words, 
 but swords." 
 
 * Listen, then, O Gujputi : you are in Holkar's power." 
 " I know it." 
 
 "You will die by the most horrible tortures to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 " I dare say." 
 
 " They will tear your teeth from your jaws, your nails from 
 your ringers, and your eyes from your head." 
 " Very possibly." 
 
 " They will flay you alive, and then burn you." 
 " Well ; they can't do any more." 
 
 " They will seize upon every man and woman in yonder 
 fort," — it was not then taken! — "and repeat upon them the 
 same tortures." 
 
 " Ha ! Belinda ! Speak — how can all this be avoided ? " 
 
 " Listen. Gahagan loves the moon-face called Belinda." 
 
 "He does, Vizier, to distraction." 
 
 " Of what rank is he in the Koompani's army ? " 
 
 "A captain."* 
 
 " A miserable captain — oh, shame ! Of what creed is he ? " 
 " I am an Irishman, and a Catholic." 
 
 " But he has not been very particular about his religious 
 duties?" 
 
 " Alas, no." 
 
204 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 " He has not been to his mosque for these twelve years ? 99 
 " 'Tis too true." 
 
 " Hearken now, Gahagan Khan. His Highness Prince 
 Holkar has sent me to thee. You shall have the moon-face 
 fcr your wife — your second wife, that is ; — the first shall be the 
 incomparable Puttee Rooge, who loves you to madness ; — with 
 Puttee Rooge, who is the wife, you shall have the wealth and 
 rank of Bobbachy Bahawder, of whom his Highness intends 
 to get rid. You shall be second in command of his Highness's' 
 forces. Look, here is his commission signed with the celestial 
 seal, and attested by the sacred names of the forty-nine Imaums. 
 You have but to renounce your religion and your service, and 
 all these rewards are yours." 
 
 He produced a parchment, signed as he said, and gave it 
 to me (it was beautifully written in Indian ink : I had it for 
 fourteen years, but a rascally valet, seeing it very dirty, washed 
 it, forsooth, and washed off every bit of the writing). I took 
 it calmly, and said, " This is a tempting offer. O Vizier, how 
 long wilt thou give me to consider of it ? " 
 
 After a long parley, he allowed me six hours, when I prom- 
 ised to give him an answer. My mind, however, was made up 
 — as soon as he was gone, I threw myself on the sofa and fell 
 asleep. 
 
 # * # # # 
 
 At the end of the six hours the Vizier came back : two 
 people were with him ; one, by his martial appearance, I knew 
 to be Holkar, the other I did not recognize. It was about 
 midnight. 
 
 " Have you considered ? " said the Vizier, as he came to 
 my couch. 
 
 "I have," said I, sitting up, — I could not stand, for my legs 
 were tied, and my arms fixed in a neat pair of steel handcuffs. 
 " I have," said I, " unbelieving dogs ! I have. Do you think 
 to pervert a Christian gentleman from his faith and honor ? 
 Ruffian blackamoors ! do your worst ; heap tortures on this 
 body, they cannot last long. Tear me to pieces : after you 
 have torn me into a certain number of pieces, I shall not feel 
 it ; and if I did, if each torture could last a life, if each limb 
 were to feel the agonies of a whole body,, what then ? I would 
 bear all — all — all — all — all — all ! " My breast heaved — my 
 form dilated — my eye flashed as I spoke these words. " Ty- 
 rants ! " said I, " dulce et decorum est pro patria mori." 
 Having thus clinched the argument, I was silent. 
 
OF MAJOR G AH AG AN. 
 
 The venerable Grand Vizier turned away ; I saw a tear 
 trickling down his cheeks. 
 
 " What a constancy," said he. " Oh, that such beauty and 
 such bravery should be doomed so soon to quit the earth ! " 
 
 His tall companion only sneered and said, " And Belinda 
 ?" 
 
 " Ha ! " said I, " ruffian, be still ! — heaven will protect her 
 spotless innocence. Hoikar, I know thee, and thou knowest 
 me too ! Who, with his single sword, destroyed thy armies ? 
 Who, with his pistol, cleft in twain thy nose-ring? Who slew 
 thy generals ? Who slew thy elephants? Three hundred 
 mighty beasts went forth to battle : of these / slew one hun- 
 dred and thirty-five ! Dog, coward, ruffian, tyrant, unbeliever ! 
 Gahagan hates thee, spurns thee, spits on thee ! " 
 
 Hoikar, as I made these uncomplimentary remarks, gave a 
 scream of rage, and, drawing his scimitar, rushed on to despatch 
 me at once (it was the very thing I wished for), when the third 
 person sprang forward, and seizing his arm, cried — 
 
 " Papa ! oh, save him ! " It was Puttee Rooge ! " Re- 
 member," continued she, " his misfortunes — remember, oh, 
 remember my — love ! " — and here she blushed, and putting one 
 finger into her mouth, and hanging down her head, looked the 
 very picture of modest affection. 
 
 Hoikar sulkily sheathed his scimitar, and muttered, " 'Tis 
 better as it is ; had I killed him now, I had spared him the 
 torture. None of this shameless fooling, Puttee Rooge," con- 
 tinued the tyrant, dragging her away. " Captain Gahagan dies 
 three Hours from hence." Puttee Rooge gave one scream and 
 fainted — her father and the Vizier carried her off between them \ 
 nor was I loth to part with her, for, with all her love, she was 
 as ugly as the deuce. 
 
 They were gone — my fate was decided. I had but three 
 hours more of life : so I flung myself again on the sofa, and 
 fell profoundly asleep. As it may happen to any of my readers 
 to be in the same situation, and to be hanged themselves, let 
 me earnestly entreat them to adopt this plan of going to sleep, 
 which I for my part have repeatedly found to be successful. 
 It saves unnecessary annoyance, it passes away a great deal of 
 unpleasant time, and it prepares one to meet like a man the 
 
 coming catastrophe. 
 
 * # * # # 
 
 Three o'clock came ; the sun was at this time making his 
 appearance in the heavens, and with it came the guards, who were 
 appointed to conduct me to the torture. I woke, rose, was 
 
 14 
 
2o6 
 
 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES 
 
 carried out, and was set on the very white donkey on which 
 Loll Mahommed was conducted through the camp after he was 
 bastinadoed. Bobbachy Bahawder rode behind me, restored 
 to his rank and state ; troops of cavalry hemmed us in on all 
 sides ; my ass was conducted by the common executioner : a 
 crier went forward, shouting out, " Make way for the destroyer 
 of the faithful — he goes to bear the punishment of his crimes." 
 We came to the fatal plain : it was the very spot whence I had 
 borne away the elephant, and in full sight of the fort. I looked 
 towards it. Thank heaven ! King George's banner waved on 
 it still — a crowd were gathered on the walls — the men, the das- 
 tards who had deserted me — and women, too. Among the 
 latter I thought I distinguished one who — O gods ! the thought 
 turned me sick — I trembled and looked pale for the first time. 
 
 " He trembles ! he turns pale," shouted out Bobbachy 
 Bahawder, ferociously exulting over his conquered enemy. 
 
 "Dog!" shouted I — (I was sitting with my head to the 
 donkey's tail, and so looked the Bobbachy full in the face) — 
 " not so pale as you looked when I felled you with this arm — 
 not so pale as your women looked when I entered your harem ! " 
 Completely chop-fallen, the Indian ruffian was silent : at any 
 rate, I had done for him. 
 
 We arrived at the place of execution. A stake, a couple of 
 feet thick and eight high, was driven in the grass : round the 
 stake, about seven feet from the ground, was an iron ring, to 
 which were attached two fetters ; in these my wrists were 
 placed. Two or three executioners stood near, with strange- 
 looking instruments : others were blowing at a fire, over which 
 was a cauldron, and in the embers were stuck other prongs and 
 instrument of iron. 
 
 The crier came forward and read my sentence. It was the 
 same in effect as that which had been hinted to me the day 
 previous by the Grand Vizier. I confess I was too agitated to 
 catch every word that was spoken. 
 
 Holkar himself, on a tall dromedray, was at a little distance. 
 The Grand Vizier came up to me — it was his duty to stand by, 
 and see the punishment performed. " It is yet time ! " said he. 
 
 I nodded my head, but did not answer. 
 
 The Vizier cast up to heaven a look of inexpressible an- 
 guish, and with a voice choking with emotion, said, " Execu- 
 tioner — do — your — duty /" 
 
 The horrid man advanced — he whispered sulkily in the 
 ears of the Grand Vizier, " Guggly ka ghee, hum khedgeree" said 
 he, u the oil does not boil yet — wait one minute." The assistants 
 
OF MAJOR GAHAGAN. 
 
 blew, the fire blazed, the oil was heated. The Vizier drew a 
 few feet aside : taking a large ladle full of the boiling liquid, 
 he advanced — 
 
 #41, ' _ Jt. 4h -Sfc 
 
 TV Ty TV" 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 " Whish ! bang, bang ! pop ! " the executioner was dead at 
 my feet, shot through the head ; the ladle of scalding oil had 
 been dashed in the face of the unhappy Grand Vizier, who lay 
 on the plain, howling. " Whish! bang! pop! Hurrah! — for- 
 wards ! — cut them down ! — no quarter ! " 
 
 I saw — yes, no, yes no, yes ! — I saw regiment upon regiment 
 of galloping British horsemen riding over the ranks of the flying 
 natives. First of the host, I recognized, O heaven ! my Ah- 
 mednuggar Irregulars ! On came the gallant line of black 
 steeds and horsemen ; swift, swift before them rode my officers 
 in yellow — Glogger, Pappendick, and Stuffle ; their sabres 
 
 gleamed in the sun, their voices rung in- the air. " D 
 
 them ! " they cried, " give it them, boys ! " A strength super- 
 natural thrilled through my veins at that delicious music : by 
 one tremendous effort, I wrested the post from its foundation, 
 five feet in the ground. I could not release my hands from the 
 fetters, it is true ; but, grasping the beam tightly, I sprung for- 
 ward — with one blow I levelled the five executioners in the 
 midst of the fire, their fall upsetting the scalding oil-can ; with 
 the next, I swept the bearers of Bobbachy's palankin off -their 
 legs ; with the third, I caught that chief himself in the small of 
 the back, and sent him flying on to the sabres of my advancing 
 soldiers ! " 
 
 The next minute, Glogger and Stuffle were in my arms, 
 Pappendick leading on the Irregulars. Friend and foe in that 
 wild chase had swept far away. We were alone ; I was freed 
 from my immense bar ; and ten minutes afterwards, when Lord 
 Lake trotted up with his staff, he found me sitting on it. 
 
 "Look at Gahagan," said his lordship. "Gentlemen, did 
 I not tell you we should be sure to find him at his post ? " 
 
 The gallant old nobleman rode on : and this was the famous' 
 
 BATTLE OF FURRUCKABAD, OR SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR, fought 
 
 on the 17th of November, 1804. 
 
 * # * m # * # 
 
 About a month afterwards, the following announcement ap- 
 peared in the Boggleywollah Hurkarru and other Indian papers : 
 — " Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the 
 Rev. Dr. Snorter, Captain Goliah O'Grady Gahagan, Com- 
 manding Irregular Horse, Ahmednuggar, to Belinda, second 
 
2 o8 TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF MAJOR GAHAGAN 
 
 daughter of Major-General Bulcher, C. B. His Excellency the 
 Commander-in-Chief gave away the bride ; and after a splen- 
 did dejeuner, the happy pair set off to pass the Mango season 
 at Hurrygurrybang. Venus must recollect, however, that Mars 
 must not always be at her side. The Irregulars are nothing 
 without their leader." 
 
 Such was the paragraph — such the event — the happiest in 
 the existence of 
 
 G. O'G. G., M. H. E. I. C. S., C. I. H. A. 
 
LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 SIR LUDWIG OF HOMBOURG. 
 
 It was in the good old days of chivalry, when every moun- 
 tain that bathes its shadow in the Rhine had its castle : not 
 inhabited, as now, by a few rats and owls, nor covered with 
 moss and wallflowers, and funguses, and creeping ivy. No, 
 no ! where the ivy now clusters there grew strong portcullis and 
 bars of steel ; where the wallflower now quivers in the rampart 
 there were silken banners embroidered with wonderful heraldry ; 
 men-at-arms marched where now you shall only see a bank of 
 moss or a hideous black champignon ; and in place of the rats 
 and owlets, I warrant me there were ladies and knights to 
 revel in the great halls, and to feast, and to dance, and to make 
 love there. They are passed away : — those old knights and 
 ladies : their golden hair first changed to silver, and then the 
 silver dropped off and disappeared forever ; their elegant 
 legs, so slim and active in the dance, became swollen and 
 gouty, and then, from being swollen and gouty, dwindled down to 
 bare bone-shanks ; the roses left their cheeks, and then their 
 cheeks disappeared, and left their skulls, and then their skulls 
 powdered into dust, and all sign of them was gone. And as 
 it was with them, so shall it be with us. Ho, seneschal ! fill 
 me a cup of liquor ! put sugar in it, good fellow — yea, and a 
 little hot water ; a very little, for my soul is sad, as I think of 
 those days and knights of old. 
 
 They, too, have revelled and feasted, and where are they ? 
 — gone? — nay, not altogether gone; for doth not the eye 
 catch glimpses of them as they walk yonder in the gray limbo 
 of romance, shining faintly in their coats of steel, wandering by 
 the side of long-haired ladies, with long-tailed gowns that little 
 pages carry ? Yes ! one sees them ; the poet sees them still 
 
 (2 II) 
 
212 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 in the far-off Cloudland, and hears the ring of their clarions as 
 they hasten to battle or tourney — and the dim echoes of 
 their lutes chanting of love and fair ladies ! Gracious priv- 
 ilege of poesy ! It is as the Dervish's coliyrium to the eyes, 
 and causes them to see treasures that to the sight of donkeys 
 are invisible. Blessed treasures of fancy ! I would not change 
 ye — no, not for many donkey-loads of gold. * # * Fill again,, 
 jolly seneschal, thou brave wag j chalk me up the produce on 
 the hostel door — surely the spirits of old are mixed up in 
 the wondrous liquor, and gentle visions of by-gone princes and 
 princesses look blandly down on us from the cloudy perfume 
 of the pipe. Do you know in what year the fairies left the 
 Rhine ? — long before Murray's " Guide-Book " was wrote — 
 long before squat steamboats, with snorting funnels, came 
 paddling down the stream.. Do you not know that once upon 
 a time the appearance of eleven thousand British virgins was 
 considered at Cologne as a wonder ? Now there come twenty 
 thousand such annually accompanied by their ladies'-maids. 
 But of them we will say no more — let us back to those who 
 went before them. 
 
 Many, many hundred thousand years ago, and at the exact 
 period when chivalry was in full bloom, there occurred a little 
 history upon the banks of the Rhine, which has been already 
 written in a book, and hence must be positively true. 'Tis a story 
 of knights and ladies — of love and battle, and virtue rewarded ; 
 a story of princes and noble lords, moreover : the best of com- 
 pany. Gentles, an ye will, ye shall hear it. Fair dames and 
 damsels, may your loves be as happy as those of the heroine 
 of this romaunt. 
 
 On the cold and rainy evening of Thursday, the 26th of 
 October, in the year previously indicated, such travellers as 
 might have chanced to be abroad in that bitter night, might 
 have remarked a fellow-wayfarer journeying on the road 
 from Oberwinter to Godesberg. He was a man not tall in 
 stature, but of the most athletic proportions, and Time, which 
 had browned and furrowed his cheek and sprinkled his locks 
 with gray, declared pretty clearly that He must have been 
 acquainted with the warrior for some fifty good years. He was 
 armed in mail, and rode a powerful and active battle-horse, 
 which (though the way the pair had come that day was long 
 and weary indeed,) yet supported the warrior, his armor and 
 luggage, with seeming ease. As it was in a friend's country, 
 the knight did not think fit to wear his heavy destrier, or 
 helmet, which hung at his saddle-bow over his portmanteau. 
 
SIX LUDWIG OF HOMBOURG. 
 
 213 
 
 Both were marked with the coronet of a count ; and from the 
 crown which surmounted the helmet, rose the crest of his 
 knightly race, an arm proper lifting a naked sword. 
 
 At his right hand, and convenient to the warrior's grasp, 
 hung his mangonel or mace — a terrific weapon which had shat- 
 tered the brains of many a turbaned soldan ; while over his 
 broad and ample chest there fell the triangular shield of the 
 period, whereon were emblazoned his arms — argent, a gules 
 wavy, on a saltire reversed of the second : the latter device 
 was awarded for a daring exploit before Ascalon, by the Em- 
 peror Maximilian, and a reference to the German Peerage of 
 that day, or a knowledge of high families which every gentle- 
 man then possessed, would have sufficed to show at once that 
 the rider we have described was of the noble house of Hom- 
 bourg. It was, in fact, the gallant knight Sir Ludwig of Hom- 
 bourg : his rank as a count, and chamberlain of the Emperor 
 of Austria, was marked by 'the cap of maintenance with the 
 peacock's feather which he wore (when not armed for battle), 
 and his princely blood was denoted by the oiled silk umbrella 
 which he carried (a very meet protection against the pitiless 
 storm), and which, as it is known, in the middle ages, none but 
 princes were justified in using. A bag, fastened with a brazen 
 padlock, and made of the costly produce of the Persian looms 
 (then extremely rare in Europe), told that he had travelled in 
 Eastern climes. This, too, was evident from the inscription 
 writ on card or parchment, and sewed on the bag. It first ran, 
 " Count Ludwig de Hombourg, Jerusalem ; " but the name of 
 the Holy City had been clashed out with the pen, and that of 
 " Godesberg " substituted. So far indeed had the cavalier 
 travelled ! — and it is needless to state that the bag in question 
 contained such remaining articles of the toilet as the high-born 
 noble deemed unnecessary to place in his valise. 
 
 " By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen ! " said the good 
 knight, shivering, " 'tis colder here than at Damascus ! Marry, 
 I am so hungry I could eat one of Saladin's camels. Shall I 
 be at Godesberg in time for dinner ? " And taking out his 
 horologe (which hung in a small side-pocket of his embroidered, 
 surcoat), the crusader consoled himself by finding that it was 
 but seven of the night, and that he would reach Godesberg ere 
 the warder had sounded the second gong. 
 
 His opinion was borne out by the result. His good steed, 
 which could trot at a pinch fourteen leagues in the hour, 
 brought him to this famous castle, just as the warder was giv- 
 ing the first welcome signal which told that the princely family 
 
214 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE, 
 
 of Count Karl, Margrave of Godesberg, were about to prepare 
 for their usual repast at eight o'clock. Crowds of pages and 
 horsekeepers were in the court, when, the portcullis being raised, 
 and amidst the respectful salutes of the sentinels, the most 
 ancient friend of the house of Godesberg entered into its castle- 
 yard. The under-butler stepped forward to take his bridle rein. 
 " Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy Land ! " exclaimed the 
 faithful old man. " Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy Land ! " 
 cried the rest of the servants in the hall. A stable was speedily 
 found for the Count's horse, Streithengst, and it was not before 
 the gallant soldier had seen that true animal well cared for, 
 that he entered the castle itself, and was conducted to his cham- 
 ber. Wax-candles burning bright on the mantel, flowers in 
 china vases, every variety of soap, and a flask of the precious 
 essence manufactured at the neighboring city of Cologne, were 
 displayed on his toilet-table ; a cheering fire " crackled on the 
 hearth," and showed that the good knight's coming had been 
 looked and cared for. The serving-maidens, bringing him hot 
 water for his ablutions, smiling asked, " Would he have his 
 couch warmed at eve ? " One might have been sure from their 
 blushes that the tough old soldier made an arch reply. The 
 family tonsor came to know whether the noble Count had need 
 of his skill. " By Saint Bugo," said the knight, as seated in 
 an easy settle by the fire, the tonsor rid his chin of its stubbly 
 growth, and lightly passed the tongs and pomatum through 
 " the sable silver " of his hair, — " By Saint Bugo, this is better 
 than my dungeon at Grand Cairo. How is my godson Otto, 
 master barber ; and the lady countess, his mother ; and the 
 noble Count Karl, my dear brother-in-arms ? " 
 
 " They are well," said the tonsor, with a sigh. 
 ■ By Saint Bugo, I'm glad on't ; but why that sigh ? " 
 
 "Things are not as they have been with my good lord," 
 answered the hairdresser, " ever since Count Gottfried's 
 arrival." 
 
 " He here ! " roared Sir Ludwig. " Good never came 
 where Gottfried was ! " and the while he donned a pair of 
 silken hose, that showed admirably the proportions of his lower 
 limbs, and exchanged his coat of mail for the spotless vest and 
 black surcoat collared with velvet of Genoa, which was the 
 fitting costume for " knight in ladye's bower," — the knight 
 entered into a conversation with the barber, who explained to 
 him, with the usual garrulousness of his tribe, what was the 
 present position of the noble family of Godesberg. 
 
 This will be narrated in the next chapter. 
 
THE G ODESBER GERS. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 THE GODESBERGERS. 
 
 'Tis needless to state that the gallant warrior Ludwig of 
 Hombourg found in the bosom of his friend's family a cordial 
 welcome. The brother-in-arms of the Margrave Karl, he was 
 the esteemed friend of the Margravine, the exalted and beautiful 
 Theodore of Boppum, and (albeit no theologian, and although 
 the first princes of Christendom coveted such an honor,) he was 
 selected to stand as sponsor for the Margrave's son Otto, the 
 only child of his house. 
 
 It was now seventeen years since the Count and countess had 
 been united : and although heaven had not blessed their couch 
 with more than one child, it may be said of that one that it was 
 a prize, and that surely never lighted on the earth a more 
 delightful vision. When Count Ludwig, hastening to the holy 
 wars, had quitted his beloved godchild, he had left him a boy ; 
 he now found him, as the latter rushed into his arms, grown to 
 be one of the finest young men in Germany : tall and exces- 
 sively graceful in proportion, with the blush of health mantling 
 upon his cheek, that was likewise adorned with the first down 
 of manhood, and with magnificent golden ringlets, such as a 
 Rowland might envy,, curling over his brow and his shoulders. 
 His eyes alternately beamed with the fire of daring, or melted 
 with the moist glance of benevolence. Well might a mother 
 be proud of such a boy. Well might the brave Ludwig exclaim, 
 as he clasped the youth to his breast, " By St. Bugo of Katz- 
 enellenbogen, Otto, thou art fit to be one of Cceur de Lion's 
 grenadiers ! " and it was the fact : the "Childe " of Godesberg 
 measured six feet three. 
 
 He was habited for the evening meal in the costly, though 
 simple attire of the nobleman of the period — and his costume 
 a good deal resembled that of the old knight whose toilet we 
 have just described • with the difference of color, however. 
 The pourpoint worn by young Otto of Godesberg was of blue, 
 handsomely decorated with buttons of carved and embossed 
 gold ; his haut-de-chausses, or leggings, were of the stuff of Nan- 
 quin, then brought by the Lombard argosies at an immense 
 price from China. The neighboring country of Holland had 
 supplied his wrists and bosom with the most costly laces ; and 
 thus attired, with an opera-hat placed on one side of his head, 
 
2l6 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 ornamented with a single flower, (that brilliant one, the tulip,) 
 the boy rushed into his godfather's dressing-room, and warned 
 him that the banquet was ready. 
 
 It was indeed : a frown had gathered on the dark brows of 
 the Lady Theodora, and her bosom heaved with an emotion 
 akin to indignation; for she feared lest the soups in the re- 
 fectory and the splendid fish now smoking there were get- 
 ting cold : she feared not for herself, but for her lord's sake. 
 " Godesberg," whispered she to Count Ludwig, as trembling 
 on his arm they descended from the drawing-room, "Godes- 
 berg is sadly changed of late." 
 
 " By St. Bugo ! " said the burly knight, starting, " these are 
 the very words the barber spake." 
 
 The lady heaved a sigh, and placed herself before the soup- 
 tureen. For some time the good Knight Ludwig of Hombourg 
 was too much occupied in ladling out the forced meat-balls and 
 rich calves' head of which the delicious pottage was formed (in 
 ladling them out, did we say ? ay, marry, and in eating them, 
 too,) to look at his brother-in-arms at the bottom of the table, 
 where he sat with his son on his left hand, and the Baron Gott- 
 fried on his right. 
 
 The Margrave was indeed changed. " By St. Bugo," whis- 
 pered Ludwig to the Countess, " your husband is as surly as a 
 bear that hath been wounded o' the head." Tears falling into 
 her soup plate were her only reply. The soup, the turbot, the 
 haunch of mutton, Count Ludwig remarked that the Margrave 
 sent all away untasted. 
 
 "The boteler will serve ye with wine, Hombourg," said the 
 Margrave gloomily from the end of the table : not even an 
 invitation to drink ! how different was this from the old times ! 
 
 But when in compliance with this order the boteler proceeded 
 to hand round the mantling vintage of the Cape to the assem- 
 bled party, and to fill young Otto's goblet (which the latter 
 held up with the eagerness of youth), the Margrave's rage knew 
 no bounds. He rushed at his son ; he dashed the wine-cup 
 over his spotless vest ; and giving him three or four heavy 
 blows which would have knocked down a bonassus, but only 
 caused the young Childe to blush : " You take wine ! " roared 
 out the Margrave • "you dare to help yourself ! Who the d-v-1 
 gave you leave to help yourself ? " and the terrible blows were 
 reiterated over the delicate ears of the boy. 
 
 " Ludwig ! Ludwig ! " shrieked the Margravine. 
 
 " Hold your prate, madam," roared the Prince. " By St. 
 Buffo, mayn't a father beat his own child ? " 
 
THE GODESBERGERS. 
 
 217 
 
 " His own child ! " repeated the Margrave with a burst, 
 almost a shriek of indescribable agony. " Ah, what did I say ? " 
 
 Sir Ludwig looked about him in amaze ; Sir Gottfried (at 
 the Margrave's right hand) smiled ghastily ; the young Otto 
 was too much agitated by the recent conflict to wear any ex- 
 pression but that of extreme discomfiture ; but the poor Mar- 
 gravine turned her head aside and blushed, red almost as the 
 lobster which flanked the turbot before her. 
 
 In those rude old times, 'tis known such table quarrels were 
 'by no means unusual amongst gallant knights ; and Ludwig, 
 who had oft seen the Margrave cast a leg of mutton at an 
 offending servitor, or empty a sauce-boat in the direction of 
 the Margravine, thought this was but one of the usual out- 
 breaks of his worthy though irascible friend, and wisely deter- 
 mined to change the converse. 
 
 " How is my friend," said he, " the good knight, Sir Hilde- 
 brandt?" 
 
 " By Saint Buffo, this is too much ! " screamed the Margrave, 
 and actually rushed from the room. 
 
 " By Saint Bugo," said his friend, " gallant knights, gentle 
 sirs, what ails my good Lord Margrave ? " 
 
 " Perhaps his nose bleeds," said Gottfried, with a sneer. 
 
 " Ah, my kind friend," said the Margravine with uncontrol- 
 lable emotion, " I fear some of you have passed from the fry- 
 ing-pan into the fire." And making the signal of departure to 
 the ladies, they rose and retired to coffee in the drawing-room. 
 
 The Margrave presently came back again, somewhat more 
 collected than he had been. "Otto," he said sternly, "go join 
 the ladies : it becomes not a young boy to remain in the com- 
 pany of gallant knights after dinner." The noble Childe with 
 manifest unwillingness quitted the room, and the Margrave, 
 taking his lady's place at the head of the table, whispered to 
 Sir Ludwig, " Hildebrandt will be here to-night to an evening- 
 party, given in honor of your return from Palestine. My good 
 friend — my true friend — my old companion in arms, Sir Gott- 
 fried ! you had best see that the fiddlers be not drunk, and that 
 the crumpets be gotten ready." Sir Gottfried, obsequiously 
 taking his patron's hint, bowed and left the room. 
 
 " You shall know all soon, dear Ludwig," said the Mar- 
 grave, with a heartrending look. " You marked Gottfried, who 
 left the room anon ? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 "You look incredulous concerning his worth; but I tell 
 thee, Ludwig, that yonder Gottfried is a good fellow, and my 
 
2l8 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 fast friend. Why should he not be ? He is my near relation, 
 heir to my property : should I " (here the Margrave's counte- 
 nance assumed it's former expression of excruciating agony), — ■ 
 " should I have 110 son." 
 
 "But I never saw the boy in better health," replied Sir 
 Ludwig. 
 
 u Nevertheless, — ha ! ha ! — it may chance that I soon shall 
 have no son." 
 
 The Margrave had crushed many a cup of wine during dim. 
 ner, and Sir Ludwig thought naturally that his gallant friend 
 had drunken rather deeply. He proceeded in this respect to 
 imitate him ; for the stern soldier of those days neither shrunk 
 before the Paynim nor the punch-bowl : and many a rousing 
 night had our crusader enjoyed in Syria with lion-hearted Rich- 
 ard ; with his coadjutor, Godfrey of Bouillon ; nay, with the 
 dauntless Saladin himself. 
 
 " You knew Gottfried in Palestine ? " asked the Margrave. 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " Why did ye not greet him then, as ancient comrades 
 should, with the warm hands of friendship ? It is not because 
 Sir Gottfried is poor ? You know well that he is of a race as 
 noble as thine own, my early friend ! " 
 
 • I care not for his race nor his poverty," replied the blunt 
 crusader. " W T hat says the Minnesinger ? ' Marry, that the 
 rank is but the stamp of the guinea ; the man is the gold. ' 
 And I tell thee, Karl of Godesberg, that yonder Gottfried is 
 base metal." 
 
 " By Saint BufTo, thou behest him, dear Ludwig." 
 
 "By Saint Bugo, dear Karl, I say sooth. The fellow was 
 known i' the camp of the crusaders — disreputably known. Ere 
 he joined us in Palestine, he had sojourned in Constantinople, 
 and learned the arts of the Greek. He is a cogger of dice, I 
 tell thee — a chanter of horseflesh. He won five thousand 
 marks from bluff Richard of England the night before the 
 storming of Ascalon, and I caught him with false trumps in his 
 pocket. He warranted a bay mare to Conrad of Mont Serrat, 
 and the rogue had fired her.' 
 
 " Ha ! mean ye that Sir Gottfried is a leg ? " cried Sir Karl, 
 knitting his brows. " Now, by my blessed patron, Saint Buffo 
 of Bonn, had any other but Ludwig of Hombourg so said I 
 would have cloven him from skull to chine." 
 
 " By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen, I will prove my words 
 on Sir Gottfried's body — not on thine, old brother-in-arms. 
 And to do the knave justice, he is a good lance. Holy Bugo ! 
 
THE FESTIVAL. 
 
 219 
 
 but he did good service at Acre ! But his character was such 
 . that, spite of his bravery, he was dismissed the army • nor even 
 allowed to sell his captain's commission." 
 
 " I have heard of it," said the Margrave ; " Gottfried had 
 told me of it. 'Twas about some silly quarrel over the wine- 
 cup — a mere silly jape, believe me. Hugo de Brodenel would 
 have no black bottle on the board. Gottfried was wrath, and 
 to say sooth, flung the black bottle at the county's head. Hence 
 his dismission and abrupt return. But you know not," con- 
 tinued the Margrave, with a heavy sigh, " of what use that 
 worthy Gottfried has been to me. He has uncloaked a traitor 
 to me." 
 
 "Notjy<?/," answered Hombourg, satirically. 
 
 " By Saint Buffo ! a deep-dyed dastard ! a dangerous, damn- 
 able traitor ! — a nest of traitors. Hildebrandt is a traitor — 
 Otto is a traitor — and Theodora (O heaven !) she — she is an- 
 other." The old Prince burst into tears at the word, and was 
 almost choked with emotion. 
 
 " What means this passion, dear friend ? " cried Sir Ludwig, 
 seriously alarmed. 
 
 " Mark, Ludwig ! mark Hildebrandt and Theodora to- 
 gether : mark Hildebrandt and Otto together. Like, like I tell 
 thee as two peas. O holy saints, that I should be born to suffer 
 this ! — to have all my affections wrenched out of my bosom, 
 and to be left alone in my old age ! But, hark ! the guests are 
 arriving. An ye will not empty another flask of claret, let^s 
 join the iadyes i' the withdrawing chamber. When there, mark 
 Hildebrandt and Otto /" 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL. 
 
 The festival was indeed begun. Coming on horseback, or 
 in their caroches, knights and ladies of the highest rank were 
 assembled in the grand saloon of Godesberg, which was splen- 
 didly illuminated to receive them. Servitors, in rich liveries, 
 (they were attired in doublets of the sky-blue broad-cloth of 
 Ypres, and hose of the richest yellow sammit — the colors of the 
 house of Godesberg,) bore about various refreshments on trays 
 
220 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 of silver — cakes, baked in the oven, and swimming in melted 
 butter ; manchets of bread, smeared with the same delicious 
 condiment, and carved so thin that you might have expected 
 them to take a wing ana fly to the ceiling ; coffee, introduced 
 by Peter the Hermit, after his excursion into Arabia, and tea 
 such as only Bohemia could produce, circulated amidst the 
 festive throng, and were eagerly devoured by the guests. The 
 Margrave's gloom was unheeded by them — how little indeed is 
 the smiling crowd aware of the pangs that are lurking in the 
 breasts of those who bid them to the feast ! The Margravine 
 was pale ; but woman knows how to deceive ; she was more 
 than ordinarily courteous to her friends, and laughed, though 
 the laugh was hollow, and talked, though the talk was loath- 
 some to her. 
 
 "The two are together," said the Margrave, clutching his 
 friend's shoulder. " Now look ! " 
 
 Sir Ludwig turned towards a quadrille, and there, sure 
 enough, were Sir Hildebrandt and young Otto standing side by 
 side in the dance. Two eggs were not more like ! The reason 
 of the Margrave's horrid suspicion at once flashed across his 
 friend's mind. 
 
 " 'Tis clear as the staff of a pike," said the poor Margrave, 
 mournfully. " Come, brother, away from the scene ; let us go 
 pla}^ a game at cribbage ! " and retiring to the Margravine's 
 boudoir, the two warriors sat down to the game. 
 
 But though 'tis an interesting one, and though the Margrave 
 won, yet he could hot keep his attention on the cards : so 
 agitated was his mind by the dreadful secret which weighed 
 upon it. In the midst of their play, the obsequious Gottfried 
 came to whisper a word in his patron's ear, which threw the 
 latter into such a fury, that apoplexy was apprehended by the 
 two lookers-on. But the Margrave mastered his emotion. "At 
 what time, did you say ? " said he to Gottfried. 
 
 " At davbreak, at the outer gate." 
 
 " I will "be there." 
 
 " And so will I too" thought Count Ludwig, the good Knight 
 of Hombourg. 
 
THE FLIGHT, 
 
 221 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 How often does man, proud man, make calculations for the 
 future, and think he can bend stern fate to his will ! Alas, we 
 are but creatures in its hands ! How many a slip between the 
 lip and the lifted wine-cup ! How often, though seemingly with 
 a choice of couches to repose upon, do we find ourselves dashed 
 to earth ; and then we are fain to say the grapes are sour, be- 
 cause we cannot attain them ; or worse, to yield to anger in 
 consequence of our own fault. Sir Ludwig, the Hombourger, 
 was not at the outer gate at daybreak. 
 
 He slept until ten of the clock. The previous night's pota- 
 tions had been heavy, the day's journey had been long and 
 rough. The knight slept as a soldier would, to whom a feather 
 bed is a rarity, and who wakes not till he hears the blast of the 
 reveille. 
 
 He looked up as he woke. At his bedside sat the Mar- 
 grave. He had been there for hours watching his slumbering 
 comrade. Watching ? — no, not watching, but awake by his 
 side, brooding over thoughts unutterably bitter — over feelings 
 inexpressibly wretched. 
 
 " What's o'clock ? " was the first natural exclamation of the 
 Hombourger. 
 
 " I believe it is five o'clock," said his friend. It was ten. 
 It might have been twelve, two, half-past four, twenty minutes 
 to six, the Margrave would still have said, " I believe it is five 
 o'clock." The wretched take no count of time : it flies with un- 
 equal pinions, indeed, for tfrem. 
 
 " Is breakfast over ? " inquired the crusader. 
 
 " Ask the butler," said the Margrave, nodding his head 
 wildly, rolling his eyes wildly, smiling wildly. 
 
 " Gracious Bugo ! " said the Knight of Hombourg, "what has 
 ailed thee, my friend? It is ten o'clock by my horologe. 
 Your regular hour is nine. You are not — no, by heavens ! you 
 are not shaved ! You wear the tights and silken hose of last 
 evening's banquet. Your collar is all rumpled — 'tis that of 
 yesterday. You have not bee?i to bed ! What has chanced, 
 brother of mine : what has chanced ? " 
 
222 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 "A common chance, Louis of Hombourg," said the Mar- 
 grave : " one that chances every clay. A false woman, a false 
 friend, a broken heart. This has chanced. I have not been to 
 bed." 
 
 " What mean ye ? " cried Count Ludwig, deeply affected. 
 " A false friend ? I am not a false friend. A false woman ? 
 Surely the lovely Theodora, your wife- " 
 
 "I have no wife, Louis, now; I have no wife and no son." 
 
 #JJ, " Jfr Jfc JtL. 
 
 TV TV* TV VV 
 
 In accents broken by grief, the Margrave explained what 
 had occurred. Gottfried's information was but too correct. 
 There was a cause for the likeness between Otto and Sir Hilde- 
 brandt : a fatal cause ! Hildebrandt and Theodora had met 
 at dawn at the outer gate. The Margrave had seen them. 
 They walked long together; they embraced. Ah! how the 
 husband's, the father's, feelings were harrowed at that embrace ! 
 They parted ; and then the Margrave, coming forward, coldly 
 signified to his lady that she was to retire to a convent for life, 
 and gave orders that the boy should be sent too, to take the 
 vows at a monastery. 
 
 Both sentences had been executed. Otto, in a boat, and 
 guarded by a company of his father's men-at-arms, was on the 
 river going towards Cologne, to the monastery of Saint Buffo 
 there. The Lady Theodora, under the guard of Sir Gottfried 
 and an attendant, were on their way to the convent of Nonnen- 
 werth, which many of our readers have seen — the beautiful 
 Green Island Convent, laved by the bright waters of the 
 Rhine ! 
 
 "What road did Gottfried take?" asked the Knight of 
 Hombourg, grinding his teeth. 
 
 " You cannot overtake him," said the Margrave. " My 
 good Gottfried, he is my only comfort now : he is my kinsman, 
 and shall be my heir. He will be back anon." 
 
 "Will he so ? " thought Sir Ludwig. " I will ask him a few 
 questions ere he return." And springing from his couch, he 
 began forthwith to put on his usual morning dress of complete 
 armor ; and, after a hasty ablution, donned, not his cap of 
 maintenance, but his helmet of battle. He rang the bell 
 violently. 
 
 " A cup of coffee, straight," said he, to the servitor who 
 answered the summons ; "bid the cook pack me a sausage and 
 bread in paper, and the groom saddle Streithengst ; we have 
 far to ride." 
 
 The various orders were obeyed. The horse was brought ; 
 
THE TRAITOR'S DOOM. 
 
 223 
 
 the refreshments disposed of ; the clattering steps of the depart- 
 ing steed were heard in the court-yard ; but the Margrave took 
 no notice of his friend, and sat, plunged in silent grief, quite 
 motionless by the empty bedside. 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 THE TRAITOR'S DOOM. 
 
 The Hombourger led his horse down the winding path 
 which conducts from the hill and castle of Godesberg into the 
 beautiful green plain below. Who has not seen that lovely 
 plain, and who that has seen it has not loved it ? A thousand* 
 sunny vineyards and cornfields stretch around in peaceful 
 luxuriance ; the mighty Rhine floats by it in silver magnificence, 
 and on the opposite bank rise the seven mountains robed in 
 majestic purple, the monarchs of the royal scene. 
 
 A pleasing poet, Lord Byron, in describing this very scene, 
 has mentioned that " peasant girls, with dark-blue eyes, and 
 hands that offer ca,ke and wine," are perpetually crowding round 
 the traveller in this delicious district, and proffering to him 
 their rustic presents. This was no doubt the case in former 
 days, when the noble bard wrote his elegant poems — in the 
 happy ancient days ! when maidens were as yet generous, and 
 men kindly ! Now the degenerate peasantry of the district are 
 much more inclined to ask than to give, and their blue eye/5 
 seem to have disappeared with their generosity. 
 
 But as it was a long time ago that the events 8i our story 
 occurred, 'tis probable that the good Knight Ludwig of Hom- 
 bourg was greeted upon his path by this fascinating peasantry ; 
 though we know not how he accepted their welcome. He 
 continued his ride across the flat green country until he came 
 to Rolandseck, whence he could command the Island of Non- 
 nenwerth (that lies in the Rhine opposite that place), and all 
 who went to it or passed from it. 
 
 Over the entrance of a little cavern in one of the rocks 
 hanging above the Rhine-stream at Rolandseck, and covered 
 with odoriferous cactuses and silvery magnolias, the traveller 
 of the present day may perceive a rude broken image of a 
 saint : that image represented the venerable Saint Buffo of 
 Bonn, the patron of the Margrave ; and Sir Ludwig, kneeling 
 
224 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 on the greensward, and reciting a censer, an ave, and a couple 
 of acolytes before it, felt encouraged to think that the deed he 
 meditated was about to be performed under the very eyes of 
 his friend's sanctified patron. His devotion done (and the 
 knight of those days was as pious as he was brave), Sir 
 Ludwig, the gallant Hombourger, exclaimed with a loud 
 voice : — 
 
 " Ho ! hermit ! holy hermit, art thou in thy cell ? " 
 
 " Who calls the poor servant of heaven and Saint Buffo ? " 
 exclaimed a voice from the cavern ; and presently, from beneath 
 the wreaths of geranium and magnolia, appeared an intensely 
 venerable, ancient and majestic head — 'twas that, we need not 
 say, of Saint Buffo's solitary. A silver beard hanging to his 
 knees gave his person an appearance of great respectability ; 
 his body was robed in simple brown serge, and girt with a 
 knotted cord : his ancient feet were only defended from the 
 prickles and stones by the rudest sandals, and his bald and 
 polished head was bare. 
 
 " Holy hermit," said the knight, in a grave voice, " make 
 ready thy ministry, for there is some one about to die." 
 
 "Where, son?" 
 
 " Here, father." 
 
 " Is he here, now ? " 
 
 " Perhaps," said the stout warrior, crossing himself; "but 
 not so if right prevail." At this moment he caught sight of a 
 ferry-boat putting off from Nonnenwerth, with a knight on 
 board. Ludwig knew at once, by the sinople reversed and the 
 truncated gules on his surcoat, that it was Sir Gottfried of 
 Godesberg. 
 
 " Be ready, father," said the good knight, pointing towards 
 the advancing boat ; and waving his hand by way of respect to 
 the reverend hermit, without a further word, he vaulted into 
 his saddle, and rode back for a few scores of paces ; when he 
 wheeled round and remained steady. His great lance and 
 pennon rose in the air. His armor glistened in the sun ; the 
 chest and head of his battle-horse were similarly covered with 
 steel. As Sir Gottfried, likewise armed and mounted (for his 
 horse had been left at the ferry hard by), advanced up thq 
 road, he almost started at the figure before him — a glistening 
 tower of steel. 
 
 " Are you the lord of this pass, Sir Knight ? " said Sir 
 Gottfried, haughtily, " or do you hold it against all comers, in 
 honor of your lady-love ? " 
 
 "I am not the lord of this pass. I do not hold it against 
 
THE TRAITOR'S DOOM. 
 
 225 
 
 all comers. I hold it but against one, and he is a liar and a 
 traitor." 
 
 " As the matter concerns me not, I pray you let me pass," 
 said Gottfried. 
 
 " The matter does concern thee, Gottfried of Godesberg. 
 Liar and traitor ! art thou coward, too ? " 
 
 " Holy Saint Buffo ! 'tis a fight ! " exclaimed the old hermit 
 (who, too, had been a gallant warrior in his day) ; and like the 
 old war-horse that hears the trumpet's sound, and spite of his 
 clerical profession, he prepared to look on at the combat with 
 no ordinary eagerness, and sat down on the overhanging ledge 
 of the rock, lighting his pipe, and affecting unconcern, but in 
 reality most deeply interested in the event which was about to 
 ensue. 
 
 As soon as the word " coward " had been pronounced by 
 Sir Ludwig, his opponent, uttering a curse far too horrible to 
 be inscribed here, had wheeled back his powerful piebald, and 
 brought his lance to the rest. 
 
 " Ha ! Beauseant ! " cried he. " Allah humdillah ! " 'Twas 
 the battle-cry in Palestine of the irresistible Knights Hospital- 
 lers. " Look to thyself, Sir Knight, and for mercy from heaven ! 
 /will give thee none." 
 
 " A Bugo for Katzenellenbogen ! " exclaimed Sir Ludwig, 
 piously : that, too, was the well-known war-cry of his princely 
 race. 
 
 " I will give the signal," said the old hermit, waving his 
 pipe. "Knights, are you ready? One, two, three. Los!" 
 (let go.) 
 
 At the signal, the two steeds tore up the ground like whirl- 
 winds ; the two knights, two flashing perpendicular masses of 
 steel, rapidly converged ; the two lances met upon the two 
 shields of either, and shivered, splintered, shattered into ten 
 hundred thousand pieces, which whirled through the air here 
 and there, among the rocks, or in the trees, or in the river. 
 The two horses fell back trembling on their haunches, where 
 they remained for half a minute or so. 
 
 " Holy Buffo ! a brave stroke ! " said the old hermit. 
 " Marry, but a splinter wellnigh took off my nose ! " The 
 honest hermit waved his pipe in delight, not perceiving that one 
 of the splinters had carried off the head of it, and rendered his 
 favorite amusement impossible. " Ha ! they are to it again ! 
 O my ! how they go to with their great swords ! Well stricken, 
 gray ! Well parried, piebald ! Ha, that was a slicer ! Go it, 
 piebald ! go it, gray ! — go it, gray ! go it, pie Peccavi ! 
 
226 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 peccavi ! " said the old man, here suddenly closing his eyes, and 
 falling down on his knees. " I forgot I was a man of peace. 1 ' 
 A*r 1 the next moment, muttering a hasty matin, he sprung down 
 the ledge of rock, and was by the side of the combatants. 
 
 The battle was over Good knight as Sir Gottfried was, 
 his strength and skill had not been able to overcome Sir Lud- 
 wig the Hombourger, with right on his side. He was bleeding 
 at every point of his armor : he had be n run through the body 
 several times, and a cut in tierce, delivered with tremendous 
 dexterity, had cloven the crown of his helmet of Damascus 
 steel, and passing through the cerebellum and sensorium, had 
 split his nose almost in twain. 
 
 His mouth foaming — his face almost green — his eyes full 
 of blood — his brains spattered over his forehead, and several 
 of his teeth knocked out, — the discomfited warrior presented a 
 ghastly spectacle, as, reeling under the effects of the last tre- 
 mendous blow which the knight of Hombourg dealt, Sir Gott- 
 fried fell heavily from the saddle of his piebald charger ; the 
 frightened animal whisked his tail wildly with a shriek and a 
 snort, plunged out his hind legs, trampling for one moment 
 upon the feet of the prostrate Gottfried, thereby causing him to 
 shriek with agony, and then galloped away riderless. 
 
 Away ! ay, away 1 — away amid the green vineyards and gold- 
 en cornfields ; away up the steep mountains, where he frightened 
 the eagles in their eyries ; away down the clattering ravines, 
 where the flashing cataracts tumble ; away through the dark 
 pine- forests, where the hungry wolves are howling • away over 
 the dreary wolds, where the wild wind walks alone ; away 
 through the plashing quagmires, where the will-o'-the-wisp slunk 
 frightened among the reeds ; away through light and darkness, 
 storm and sunshine ; away by tower and town, high-road and 
 hamlet. Once a turnpike-man would have detained him ; but, 
 ha ! ha ! he charged the pike, and cleared it at a bound. Once 
 the Cologne Diligence stopped the way : he charged the Dili- 
 gence, he knocked off the cap of the conductor on the roof, and 
 yet galloped wildly, madly, furiously, irresistibly on ! Brave 
 horse ! gallant steed ! snorting child of Araby ! On went the 
 horse, over mountains, rivers, turnpikes, applewomen ; and 
 never stopped until he reached a livery-stable in Cologne where 
 his master was accustomed to put him up. 
 
THE CONFESSION. 
 
 227 
 
 Chapter Vl. 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 
 But we have forgotten, meanwhile, that prostrate individual. 
 Having examined the wounds in his side, legs, head, and 
 throat, the old hermit (a skilful leech) knelt down by the side of 
 the vanquished one and said, " Sir Knight, it is my painful duty 
 to state to you that you are in an exceedingly dangerous condi- 
 tion, and will not probably survive." 
 
 " Say you so, Sir Priest ? then 'tis time I make my con- 
 fession. Hearken you, Priest, and you, Sir Knight, whoever 
 you be." 
 
 Sir Ludwig (who, much affected by the scene, had been tying 
 his horse up to a tree,) lifted his visor and said, " Gottfried of 
 Godesberg ! I am the friend of thy kinsman, Margrave Karl, 
 whose happiness thou hast ruined ; I am the friend of his 
 chaste and virtuous lady, whose fair fame thou hast belied ; I 
 am the godfather of young Count Otto, whose heritage thou 
 wouldst have appropriated. Therefore I met thee in deadly 
 fight, and overcame thee, and have wellnigh finished thee. 
 Speak on." 
 
 " I have done all this," said the dying man, " and here, in 
 my last hour, repent me. The Lady Theodora is a spotless 
 lady ; the youthful Otto the true son of his father — Sir Hilde- 
 brandt is not his father, but his uncle" 
 
 " Gracious Buffo ! " " Celestial Bugo ! " here said the her- 
 mit and the Knight of Hombourg simultaneously, clasping their 
 hands. 
 
 " Yes, his uncle ; but with the bar-sinister in his 'scutcheon. 
 Hence he could never be acknowledged by the family ; hence, 
 too, the Lady Theodora's spotless purity (though the young 
 people had been brought up together) could never be brought 
 to own the relationship." 
 
 64 May I repeat your confession ? " asked the hermit. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure in life : carry my confession to 
 the Margrave, and pray him give me pardon. Were there — a 
 notary-public present," slowly gasped the knight, the film of 
 dissolution glazing over his eyes, " I would ask — you— two — 
 gentlemen to witness it. I would gladly — sign the deposition 
 • — that is, if I could wr-wr-wr-wr-ite ! " A faint shuddering 
 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 smile — a quiver-, a gasp, a gurgle — the blood gushed from his ' 
 mouth in black volumes # * * # 
 
 " He will never sin more," said the hermit, solemnly. 
 
 " May heaven assoilzie him ! " said Sir Ludwig. " Hermit, 
 he was a gallant knight. He died with harness on his back, 
 and with truth on his lips : Ludwig of Hombourg would ask no 
 other death. * * # * 93 
 
 An hour afterwards the principal servants at the Castle of 
 Godesderg were rather surprised to see the noble Lord Louis 
 trot into the court-yard of the castle, with a companion on the 
 crupper of his saddle. 'Twas the venerable Hermit of Roland- 
 seek, who, for the sake of greater celerity, had adopted this un- 
 dignified conveyance, and whose appearance and little dumpy 
 legs might well create hilarity among the " pampered menials 99 
 who are always found lounging about the houses of the great. 
 He skipped off the saddle with considerable lightness, however; 
 and Sir Ludwig, taking the reverend man by the arm, and 
 frowning the jeering senators into awe, bade one of them lead 
 him to the presence of his Highness the Margrave. 
 
 f What has chanced ? " said the inquisitive servitor. " The 
 riderless horse of Sir Gottfried was seen to gallop by the outer 
 wall anon. The Margrave's Grace has never quitted your 
 lordship's chamber, and sits as one distraught." 
 
 "Hold thy prale, knave, and lead us on !" And so say- 
 ing, the Knight and his Reverence moved into the well-known 
 apartment, where, according to the servitor's description, 
 the wretched Margrave sat like a stone. 
 
 Ludwig took one of the kind broken-hearted man's hands, 
 the hermit seized the other, and began (but on account of his 
 great age, with a prolixity which we shall not endeavor to imi- 
 tate) to narrate the events which we have already described. 
 Let the dear reader fancy, the while his Reverence speaks, the 
 glazed eyes of the Margrave gradually lighting up with atten- 
 tion ; the flush of joy which mantles in his countenance — the 
 start — the throb — the almost delirious outburst of hysteric ex- 
 ultation with which, when the whole truth was made known, he 
 clasped the two messengers of glad tidings to his breast, with 
 an energy that almost choked the aged recluse ! " Ride, ride 
 this instant to the Margravine — say I have wronged her, that 
 it is all right, that she may come back — that I forgive her — 
 that I apologize, if you will 99 — and a secretary forthwith de- 
 spatched a note to that effect, which was carried off by a fleet 
 messenger. 
 
 " Now write to the Superior of the monastery at Cologne, 
 
THE CONFESSION. 
 
 229 
 
 and bid him send me back my boy, my darling, my Otto — my 
 Otto of roses !" said the fond father, making the first play 
 upon words he had ever attempted in his life. But what will 
 not paternal love effect ? The secretary (smiling at the joke) 
 wrote another letter, and another fleet messenger was despatch- 
 ed on another horse. 
 
 " And now/' said Sir Ludwig, playfully, " let us to lunch. 
 Holy hermit, are you for a snack ? " 
 
 The hermit could not say nay on an occasion so festive, 
 and the three gentles seated themselves to a plenteous repast ; 
 for which the remains of the feast of yesterday offered, it need 
 not be said, ample means. 
 
 "They will be home by dinner-time, " said the exulting 
 father. " Ludwig ! reverend hermit ! we will carry on till then." 
 And the cup passed gayly round, and the laugh and jest circu- 
 lated, while the three happy friends sat confidentially awaiting 
 the return of the Margravine and her son. 
 
 But alas ! said we not rightly at the commencement of a 
 former chapter, that betwixt the lip and the raised wine-cup 
 there is often many a spill ? that our hopes are high, and often, 
 too often, vain ? About three hours after the departure of the 
 first messenger, he returned, and with an exceedingly long face 
 knelt down and presented to the Margrave a billet to the fol- 
 lowing effect : — 
 
 " Convent of N 07inenivorth, Friday Afternoon. 
 " Sik, — I have submitted too long to your ill-usage, and am disposed to bear it no more. 
 I wiil no longer be made the butt of your ribald satire, and the object of your coarse abuse. 
 Last week you threatened me with your cane ! On Tuesday last you threw a wine-decanter 
 at me, which hit the butler, it is true, but the intention was evident. This morning, in the 
 presence of all the servants, you called me by the most vile, abominable name, which 
 heaven forbid I should repeat ! You dismiss me from your house under a false accusation. 
 You sent me to this odious convent to be immured for life. Be it so ! I will not come back, 
 because, forsooth, you relent. Anything is better than a residence with a wicked, coarse, 
 violent, intoxicated, brutal monster like yourself. I remain here forever, and blush to be 
 obliged to sign myself 
 
 "Theodora von Godesberg. 
 
 • P.S. — I hore you do not intend to Keep all my best gowns, jewels, and wearing-ap- 
 parel ; and make no doubt you dismissed me from your house in order to make way for 
 some vile hussy, whose eyes I would like to tear out. T. V. G." 
 
230 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE, 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 THE SENTENCE. 
 
 This singular document, illustrative of the passions of 
 women at all times, and particularly of the manners of the 
 early ages, struck dismay into the heart of the Margrave. 
 
 "Are her ladyship's insinuations correct?" asked the her- 
 mit, in a severe tone. " To correct a wife with a cane is a 
 venial, I may say a justifiable practice ; but to fling a bottle at 
 her is ruin both to the liquor and to her." 
 
 But she sent a carving-knife at me first, " said the heart- 
 broken husband. " O jealousy, cursed jealousy, why, why did 
 I ever listen to thy green and yellow tongue ? " 
 
 " They quarrelled ; but they loved each other sincerely," 
 whispered Sir Ludwig to the hermit : who began to deliver 
 forthwith a lecture upon family discord and martial authority, 
 which would have sent his two hearers to sleep, but for the 
 arrival of the second messenger, whom the Margrave had de- 
 spatched to Cologne for his son. This herald wore a still 
 longer face than that of his comrade who preceded him. 
 
 " Where is my darling ? " roared the agonized parent. 
 " Have ye brought him with ye ? " 
 
 " N — no," said the man, hesitating. 
 
 " I will flog the knave soundly when he comes," cried the 
 father, vainly endeavoring, under an appearance of sternness, 
 to hide his inward emotion and tenderness. 
 
 " Please, your Highness," said the messenger, making a 
 desperate effort, " Count Otto is not at the convent." 
 
 " Know ye, knave, where he is ? " 
 
 The swain solemnly said, " I do. He is there." He point- 
 ed as he spake to the broad Rhine, that was seen from the 
 casement, lighted up by the magnificent hues of sunset. 
 
 "There! How mean ye there 1 gasped the Margrave, 
 wrought to a pitch of nervous fury. 
 
 " Alas ! my good lord, when he was in the boat which was 
 to conduct him to the convent, he — he jumped suddenly from 
 it, and is dr — dr — owned." 
 
 " Carry that knave out and hang him ! " said the Mar- 
 grave, with a calmness more dreadful than any outburst of rage. 
 " Let every man of the boat's crew be blown from the mouth 
 
THE CHILDE OF GODESBERG. 231 
 
 of the cannon on the tower — except the coxswain, and let him 
 be " 
 
 What was to be done with the coxswain, no one knows ; 
 for at that moment, and overcome by his emotion, the Mar- 
 grave sank down lifeless on the floor. 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 THE CHILDE OF GODESBERG. ' 
 
 % 
 
 It must be clear to the dullest intellect (if amongst our readers 
 we dare venture to presume that a dull intellect should be found) 
 that the cause of the Margrave's fainting-fit, described in the 
 last chapter, was a groundless apprehension on the part of that 
 too solicitous and credulous nobleman regarding the fate of 
 his beloved child. No, young Otto was not drowned. Was 
 ever hero of romantic story done to death so early in the tale ? 
 Young Otto was not drowned. Had such been the case, the 
 Lord Margrave would infallibly have died at the close of the last 
 chapter ; and a few gloomy sentences at its close would have 
 denoted how the lovely Lady Theodora became insane in the 
 convent, and how Sir Ludwig determined, upon the demise of 
 the old hermit (consequent upon the shock of hearing the 
 news), to retire to the vacant hermitage, and assume the robe, 
 the beard, the mortifications of the late venerable and solitary 
 ecclesiastic. Otto was not drowned, and all those personages 
 of our history are consequently alive and well. 
 
 The boat containing the amazed young Count — for he knew 
 not the cause of his father's anger, and hence rebelled against 
 the unjust sentence which the Margrave had uttered — had not 
 rowed many miles, when the gallant boy rallied from his tem- 
 porary surprise and despondency, and determined not to be a 
 slave in any convent of any order : determined to make a 
 desperate effort for escape. At a moment when the men were 
 pulling hard against the tide, and Kuno, the coxswain, was 
 looking carefully to steer the barge between some dangerous 
 rocks and quicksands, which were frequently met with in the 
 majestic though dangerous river, Otto gave a sudden spring 
 from the boat, and with one single flounce was in the boiling, 
 frothing, swirling eddy of the stream. • 
 
232 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Fancy the agony of the crew at the disappearance of their 
 young lord ! All loved him ; all would have given their lives 
 for him • but as they did not know how to swim, of course they 
 declined to make any useless plunges in search of him, and 
 stood on their oars in mute wonder and grief. Once, his fair 
 head and golden ringlets were seen to arise from the water ; 
 twice, puffing and panting, it appeared for an instant again ; 
 thrice, it rose but for one single moment : it was the last 
 chance, and it sunk, sunk, sunk. Knowing the reception they 
 would meet with from their liege lord, the men naturally did not 
 go home to Godesberg, but putting in at the first creek on the 
 opposite bank, fled into the Duke of Nassau's territory ; where, 
 as they have little to do with our tale, we will leave them. 
 
 But they little knew how expert a swimmer was young Otto. 
 He had disappeared, it is true ; but why ? because he had 
 dived. He calculated that his conductors would consider him 
 drowned, and the desire of liberty lending him wings, (or we 
 had rather say fins, in this instance,) the gallant boy swam on 
 beneath the water, never lifting his head for a single moment 
 between Godesberg and Cologne — the distance being twenty- 
 five or thirty miles. 
 
 Escaping from observation, he landed on the Deutz side of 
 the river, repaired to a comfortable and quiet hostel there, say- 
 ing he had had an accident from a boat, and thus accounting 
 for the moisture of his habiliments, and while these were dry- 
 ing before a fire in his chamber, went snugly to bed, where he 
 mused, not without amaze, on the strange events of the day. 
 "This morning," thought he, "a noble, and heir to a princely 
 estate — this evening an outcast, with but a few bank-notes 
 which my mamma luckily gave me on my birthday. What a 
 strange entry into life is this for a young man of my family ! 
 Well, I have courage and resolution : my first attempt in life 
 has been a gallant and successful one ; other dangers will be 
 conquered by similar bravery." And recommending himself, 
 his unhappy mother, and his mistaken father to the care .of 
 their patron saint, Saint Buffo, the gallant-hearted boy fell 
 presently into such a sleep, as only the young, the healthy, the 
 innocent, and the extremely fatigued can enjoy. 
 
 The fatigues of the day (and very few men but would be 
 fatigued after swimming wellnigh thirty miles under water) 
 caused young Otto to sleep so profoundly, that he did not 
 remark how, after Friday's sunset, as a natural consequence, 
 Saturday's Phcebus illumined the world, ay, and sunk at his 
 appointed hour. The serving-maidens of the hostel, peeping 
 
THE CHILD E OF GODESBURG. 
 
 2 33 
 
 in, marked him sleeping, and blessing him for a pretty youth, 
 tripped lightly from the chamber ; the boots tried haply twice 
 or thrice to call him (as boots will fain), but the lovely boy, 
 giving another snore, turned on his side, and was quite uncon- 
 scious of the interruption. In a word, the youth slept for six- 
 and-thirty hours at an elongation ; and the Sunday sun was 
 shining, and the bells of the hundred churches of Cologne were 
 clinking and toiling in pious festivity, and the burghers and 
 burgheresses of the town were trooping to vespers and morn- 
 ing service when Otto awoke. 
 
 As he donned his clothes of the richest Genoa velvet, the 
 astonished boy could not at first account for his difficulty in 
 putting them on. " Marry," said he, " these breeches that my 
 blessed mother" (tears filled his fine eyes as he thought of 
 her) — u that my blessed mother had made long on purpose, 
 are now ten inches too short for me. Whir-r-r ! my coat cracks 
 i' the back, as in vain I try to buckle it round me ; and the 
 sleeves reach no farther than my elbows ! What is this mys- 
 tery ? Am I grown fat and tall in a single night ? Ah ! ah ! 
 ah ! ah ! I have it." 
 
 The young and good-humored Childe laughed merrily. He 
 bethought him of the reason of his mistake : his garments had 
 shrunk from being five-and-twenty miles under water. 
 
 But one remedy presented itself to his mind ; and that we 
 need not say was to purchase new ones. Inquiring the way to 
 the most genteel ready-made-clothes' establishment in the city 
 of Cologne, and finding it was kept in the Minoriten Strasse, 
 by an ancestor of the celebrated Moses of London, the noble 
 Childe hied him towards the emporium • but you may be sure 
 did not neglect to perform his religious duties by the way. En- 
 tering the cathedral, he made straight for the shrine of Saint 
 Buffo, and hiding himself behind a pillar there (fearing he 
 might be recognized by the archbishop, or any of his father's 
 numerous friends in Cologne), he proceeded with his devotions, 
 As was the practice of the young nobles of the age. 
 
 But though exceedingly intent upon the service, yet his eye 
 could not refrain from wandering a little round about him, and 
 he remarked with surprise that the whole church was filled 
 with archers ; and he remembered, too, that he had seen in 
 the streets numerous other bands of men similarly attired in 
 green. On asking at the cathedral porch the cause of this 
 assemblage, one of the green ones said (in a jape), " Marry, 
 youngster, you must be green, not to know that we are all bound 
 to the castle of his Grace Duke Adolf of Cleves, who gives an 
 
234 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 archery meeting once a year, and prizes for which we toxoph- 
 ilites muster strong." 
 
 Otto, whose course hitherto had been undetermined, now 
 immediately settled what to do. He straightway repaired to 
 the ready-made emporium of Herr Moses, and bidding that 
 gentleman furnish him with an archer's complete dress, Moses 
 speedily selected a suit from his vast stock, which fitted the 
 youth to a /, and we need not say was sold at an exceedingly 
 moderate price. So attired (and bidding Herr Moses a cordial 
 farewell), young Otto was a gorgeous, a noble, a soul-inspiring 
 boy to gaze on. A coat and breeches of the most brilliant 
 pea-green, ornamented with a profusion of brass buttons, and 
 fitting him with exquisite tightness, showed off a figure un- 
 rivalled for slim symmetry. His feet were covered with peaked 
 buskins of buff leather, and a belt round his slender waist, of 
 the same material, held his knife, his tobacco-pipe and pouch, 
 and his long shining dirk ; which, though the adventurous 
 youth had as yet only employed it to fashion wicket-bails, or to 
 cut bread-and-cheese, he was now quite ready to use against 
 the enemy. His personal attractions were enhanced by a neat 
 white hat, flung carelessly and fearlessly on one side of his 
 open smiling countenance ; and his lovely hair, curling in ten 
 thousand yellow ringlets, fell over his shoulder like golden 
 epaulettes, and down his back as far as the waist-buttons of his 
 coat. I warrant me, many a lovely Colnerinn looked after the 
 handsome Childe with anxiety, and dreamed that night of 
 Cupid under the guise of " a bonny boy in green." 
 
 So accoutred, the youth's next thought was, that he must 
 supply himself with a bow. This he speedily purchased at the 
 most fashionable bdwyer's, and of the best material and make. 
 It was of ivory, trimmed with pink ribbon, and the cord of silk. 
 An elegant quiver, beautifully painted and embroidered, was 
 slung across his back, with a dozen of the finest arrows, tipped 
 with steel of Damascus, formed of the branches of the famous 
 Upas-tree of Java, and feathered with the wings of the ortolan. 
 These purchases being completed (together with that of a knap- 
 sack, dressing-case, change, &c), our young adventurer asked 
 where was the hostel at which the archers were wont to as- 
 semble ? and being informed that it was at the sign of the 
 " Golden Stag," hied him to that house of entertainment, where, 
 by calling for quantities of liquor and beer, he speedily made 
 the acquaintance and acquired the good-will of a company of 
 his future comrades, who happened to be sitting in the coffee- 
 room. 
 
THE CHILDE OF G ODESBER G. 
 
 235 
 
 After they had eaten and drunken for all, Otto said, ad- 
 dressing them, " When go ye forth, gentles ? I am a stranger 
 here, bound as you to the archery meeting of Duke Adolf. An 
 ye will admit a youth into your company 'twill gladden me upon 
 my lonely way! " 
 
 The archers replied, " You seem so young and jolly, and 
 you spend your gold so very like a gentleman, that we'll receive 
 you in our band with pleasure. Be ready, for we start at half- 
 past two ! " At that hour accordingly the whole joyous com- 
 pany prepared to move, and Otto not a little increased his 
 popularity among them by stepping out and having a conference 
 with the landlord, which caused the latter to come into the 
 room where the archers were assembled previoua to departure, 
 and to say, " Gentlemen, the bill is settled ! " — words never un- 
 grateful to an archer yet : no, Marry, nor to a man of any other 
 calling that I wot of. 
 
 They marched joyously for several leagues, singing and 
 joking, and telling of a thousand feats of love and chase and 
 war. While thus engaged, some one remarked to Otto, that he 
 w r as not dressed in the regular uniform, having no feathers in 
 his hat. 
 
 " I dare say I will find a feather," said the lad, smiling. 
 
 Then another gibed because his bow was new. 
 
 " See that you can use your old one as well, Master Wolf- 
 gang," said the undisturbed youth. His answers, his bearing, 
 his generosity, his beauty, and his wit, inspired all his new 
 toxophilite friends with interest and curiosity, and they longed 
 to see whether his skill with the bow corresponded with their 
 secret sympathies for him. 
 
 An occasion for manifesting this skill did not fail to present 
 itself soon — as indeed it seldom does to such a hero of romance 
 as young Otto was. Fate seems to watch over such : events 
 occur to them just in the nick of time • they rescue virgins just 
 as ogres are on the point of devouring them ; they manage to 
 be present at court and interesting ceremonies, and to see the 
 most interesting people at the most interesting moment ; 
 directly an adventure is necessary for them, that adventure 
 occurs : and I, for my part, have often wondered with delight 
 (and never could penetrate the mystery of the subject) at the 
 way in which that humblest of romance heroes, Signor Clown, 
 when he wants anything in the Pantomime, straightway finds it 
 to his hand. How is it that, — suppose he wishes to dress him- 
 self up like a woman for instance, that minute a coalheaver 
 walks in with a shovel-hat that answers for a bonnet ; at the 
 
236 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 very next instant a butcher's lad passing with a string of 
 sausages and a bundle of bladders unconsciously helps Master 
 Clown to a necklace and a tournure, and so on through the 
 whole toilet ? Depend upon it there is something we do not 
 wot of in that mysterious overcoming of circumstances by great 
 individuals : that apt and wondrous conjuncture of the Hour and 
 the Man ; and so, for my part, when I heard the above remark of 
 one of the archers, that Otto had never a feather in his bonnet, 
 I felt sure that a heron would spring up in the next sentence to 
 supply him with an aigrette. 
 
 And such indeed was the fact : rising out of a morass by 
 which the archers were passing, a gallant heron, arching his 
 neck, swelling his crest, placing his legs behind him, and his 
 beak and red eyes against the wind, rose slowly, and offered 
 the fairest mark in the world. 
 
 " Shoot, Otto,'' said one of the archers. " You would not 
 shoot just now at a crow because it was a foul bird, nor at a 
 hawk because it was a noble bird ; bring us down yon heron : 
 it flies slowly." 
 
 But Otto was busy that moment tying his shoestring, and 
 Rudolf, the third best of the archers, shot at the bird and 
 missed it. 
 
 " Shoot, Otto," said Wolfgang, a youth who had taken a 
 liking to the young archer : " the bird is getting further and 
 further." 
 
 But Otto was busy that moment whittling a willow-twig he 
 had just cut. Max, the second best archer, shot and missed. 
 
 " Then," said Wolfgang, " I must try myself : a plague on 
 you, young springald, you have lost a noble chance ! " 
 
 Wolfgang prepared himself with all his care, and shot at 
 the bird. " It is out of distance," said he, " and a murrain on 
 the bird ! " 
 
 Otto, who by this time had done whittling his willow-stick 
 (having carved a capital caricature of Wolfgang upon it), flung 
 the twig down and said carelessly, " Out of distance ! Pshaw ! 
 We have two minutes yet," and fell to asking riddles and cut- 
 ting jokes ; to the which none of the archers listened, as they 
 were all engaged, their noses in air, watching the retreating 
 bird. 
 
 " Where shall I hit him ? " said Otto. 
 
 " Go to," said Rudolf, " thou canst see no limb of him : he 
 is no bigger than a flea." 
 
 " Here goes for his right eye ! " said Otto ; and stepping 
 forward in the English manner (which his godfather having 
 
THE CHILDE OF G ODESBER G. 
 
 2 37 
 
 learnt in Palestine, had taught him), lie brought his bowstring 
 to his ear, took a good aim, allowing for the wind and calcu- 
 lating the parabola to a nicety. Whizz ! his arrow went off. 
 
 He took up the willow-twig again and began carving a 
 head of Rudolf at the other end, chatting and laughing, and 
 singing a ballad the while. 
 
 The archers, after standing a long time looking skywards 
 with their noses in the air, at last brought them down from the 
 perpendicular to the horizontal position, and said, " Pooh, this 
 lad is a humbug ! The arrow's lost ; let's go ! " 
 
 " Heads / " cried Otto, laughing. A speck was seen rapidly 
 descending from the heavens ; it grew to be as big as a crown- 
 piece, then as a partridge, then as a tea-kettle, and flop ! down 
 fell a magnificent heron to the ground, flooring poor Max in 
 its fall. 
 
 " Take the arrow out of his eye, Wolfgang," said Otto, 
 without looking at the bird : " wipe it and put it back into my 
 quiver." 
 
 The arrow indeed was there, having penetrated right 
 through the pupil. 
 
 " Are you in league with Der Freischutz ? " said Rudolf, 
 quite amazed. 
 
 Otto laughingly whistled the " Huntsman's Chorus," and 
 said, " No, my friend. It was a lucky shot : only a lucky shot. 
 I was taught shooting, look you, in the fashion of merry Eng- 
 land, where the archers are archers indeed." 
 
 And so he cut off the heron's wing for a plume for his hat ; 
 and the archers walked on, much amazed, and saying, " What 
 a wonderful country that merry England must be ! " 
 
 Far from feeling any envy at their comrade's success, the 
 jolly archers recognized his superiority with pleasure ; and 
 Wolfgang and Rudolf especially held out their hands to the 
 younker, and besought the honor of his friendship. They con- 
 tinued their walk all day, and when night fell made choice of a 
 good hostel you may be sure, where over beer, punch, cham- 
 pagne, and every luxury, they drank to the health of the Duke 
 of Cleves, and indeed each other's healths all round. Next 
 day they resumed their march, and continued it without inter- 
 ruption, except to take in a supply of victuals here and there 
 (and it was found on these occasions that Otto, young as he 
 was, could eat four times as much as the oldest archer present, 
 and drink to correspond) ; and these continued refreshments 
 having given them more than ordinary strength, they deter- 
 mined on making rather a long march of it, and did not halt 
 till after nightfall at the gates of the little town of Windeck. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE, 
 
 What was to be done ? the town-gates were shut. " Is 
 there no hostel, no castle where we can sleep ? " asked Otto of 
 the sentinel at the gate. " I am so hungry that in lack of 
 better food I think I could eat my grandmamma." 
 
 The sentinel laughed at this hyperbolical expression of 
 hunger, and said, " You had best go sleep at the Castle of 
 Windeck yonder • " adding with a peculiarly knowing look, 
 "Nobody will disturb you there." 
 
 At that moment the moon broke out from a cloud, and 
 showed on a hill hard by a castle indeed — but the skeleton of 
 a castle. The roof was gone, the windows were dismantled, 
 the towers were tumbling, and the cold moonlight pierced it 
 through and through. One end of the building was, however, 
 still covered in, and stood looking still more frowning, vast, 
 and gloomy, even than the other part of the edifice. 
 
 " There is a lodging, certainly," said Otto to the sentinel, 
 who pointed towards the castle with his bartizan ; " but tell me, 
 good fellow, what are we to do for a supper ? " 
 
 " Oh, the castellan of Windeck will entertain you," said 
 the man-at-arms with a grin, and marched up the embrasure ; 
 the while the archers, taking counsel among themselves, de- 
 bated whether or not they should take up their quarters in the 
 gloomy and deserted edifice. 
 
 "We shall get nothing but an owl for supper there," said 
 young Otto. " Marry, lads, let us storm the town ; we are 
 thirty gallant fellows, and I have heard the garrison is not 
 more than three hundred." But the rest of the party thought 
 such a way of getting supper was not a very cheap one, and, 
 grovelling knaves, preferred rather to sleep ignobly and without 
 victuals, than dare the assault with Otto, and die, or conquer 
 something comfortable. 
 
 One and all then made their way towards the castle. They 
 entered its vast and silent halls, frightening the owls and bats 
 that fled before them with hideous hootings and flappings of 
 wings, and passing by a multiplicity of mouldy stairs, dank 
 reeking roofs, and rickety corridors, at last came to an apart- 
 ment which, dismal and dismantled as it was, appeared to be 
 in rather better condition than the neighboring chambers, and 
 they therefore selected it as their place of rest for the night. 
 They then tossed up which should mount guard. The first 
 two hours of watch fell to Otto, who was to be succeeded by 
 his young though humble friend Wolfgang ; and, accordingly, 
 the Childe of Godesberg, drawing his dirk, began to pace upon 
 his weary round ; while his comrades, by various gradations 
 
THE LADY OF WINDECK. 
 
 239 
 
 of snoring, told how profoundly they slept, spite of their lack 
 of supper. 
 
 'Tis needless to say what were the thoughts of the noble 
 Childe as he performed his two hours' watch ; what gushing 
 memories poured into his soul ; "what sweet and bitter" rec- 
 ollections of home inspired his throbbing heart ; and what 
 manly aspirations after fame buoyed him up. " Youth is ever 
 •confident," says the bard. Happy, happy season ! The moon- 
 lit hours passecTby on silver wings, the twinkling stars looked 
 friendly down upon him. Confiding in their youthful sentinel, 
 sound slept the valorous toxophilites, as up and down, and 
 there and back again, marched on the noble Childe. At length 
 his repeater told him, much to his satisfaction, that it was half- 
 past eleven, the hour when his watch was to cease ; and so, 
 giving a playful kick to the slumbering Wolfgang, that good- 
 humored fellow sprung up from his lair, and, drawing his sword, 
 proceeded to relieve Otto. 
 
 The latter laid him down for warmth's sake on the very 
 spot which his comrade had left, and for some time could not 
 sleep. Realities and visions then began to mingle in his mind, 
 till he scarce knew which was which. He dozed for a minute ; 
 then he woke with a start ; then he went off again ; then woke 
 up again. In one of these half-sleeping moments he thought 
 he saw a figure, as of a woman in white, gliding into the room, 
 and beckoning Wolfgang from it. He looked again. Wolfgang 
 was gone. At that moment twelve o'clock clanged from the 
 town, and Otto started up. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 THE LADY OF WINDECK. 
 
 As the bell with iron tongue called midnight, Wolfgang the 
 Archer, pacing on his watch, beheld before him a pale female 
 figure. He did not know whence she came : but there suddenly 
 she stood close to him. Her blue, clear, glassy eyes were 
 fixed upon him. Her form was of faultless beauty ; her face 
 pale as the marble of the fairy statue, ere yet the sculptor's 
 love had given it life. A smile played upon her features, but 
 it was no warmer than the reflection of a moonbeam on a lake ; 
 and yet it was wondrous beautiful. A fascination stole over 
 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 the senses of young Wolfgang. He stared at the lovely appa* 
 rition with fixed eyes and distended jaws. She looked at him 
 with ineffable archness. She lifted one beautifully rounded 
 alabaster arm, and made a sign as if to beckon him towards 
 her. Did Wolfgang — the young and lusty Wolfgang — follow ? 
 Ask the iron whether it follows the magnet ? — ask the pointer 
 whether it pursues the partridge through the stubble ? — ask the 
 youth whether the lollypop-shop does not attract him ? Wolf- 
 gang did follow. An antique door opened, as if by magic. 
 There was no light, and yet they saw quite plain • they passed 
 through the innumerable ancient chambers, and yet they did 
 not wake any of the owls and bats roosting there. We know 
 not through how many apartments the young couple passed ; 
 but at last they came to one where a feast was prepared ; and 
 on an antique table, covered with massive silver, covers were 
 laid for two. The lady took her place at one end of the table, 
 and with her sweetest nod beckoned Wolfgang to the other 
 seat. The table was small, and their knees met. He felt as 
 cold in his legs, as if he were kneeling against an ice-well. 
 
 " Gallant archer," said she, " you must be hungry after your 
 day's march. What supper will you have ? Shall it be a deli- 
 cate lobster-salad ? or a dish of elegant tripe and onions ? or a 
 slice of boar's-head and truffles ? or a Welsh rabbit a la cave 
 au cidre ? or a beefsteak and shallot ? or a couple of rognons a 
 la brochette l Speak, brave bowyer ; you have but to order." 
 
 As there was nothing on the table but a covered silver dish, 
 Wolfgang thought that the lady who proposed such a multi- 
 plicity of delicacies to him was only laughing at him ; so he 
 determined to try her with something extremely rare. 
 
 " Fair princess," he said, " I should like very much a pork- 
 chop and some mashed potatoes." 
 
 She lifted the cover : there was such a pork-chop as Simp- 
 son never served, with a dish of mashed potatoes that would 
 have formed at least six portions in our degenerate days in 
 Rupert Street. 
 
 When he had helped himself to these delicacies, the lady 
 put the cover on the dish again, and watched him eating with 
 interest. He was for some time too much occupied with his 
 own food to remark that his companion did not eat a morsel ; 
 but big as it was, his chop was soon gone ; the shining silver 
 of his plate was scraped quite clean with his knife, and, heav- 
 ing a great sigh, he confessed a humble desire for something 
 to drink. 
 
 " Call for what you like, sweet sir," said the lady, lifting up 
 
THE LAD V OF WINDECK. 
 
 241 
 
 a silver filigree bottle, with an india-rubber cork, ornamented 
 with gold. 
 
 " Then, "said Master Wolfgang— for the fellow's tastes were, 
 in sooth, very humble — " I call for half-and-half." According 
 to his wish, a pint of that delicious beverage was poured from 
 the bottle, foaming, into his beaker. 
 
 Having emptied this at a draught, and declared that on his 
 conscience it was the best tap he ever knew in his life, the 
 young man felt his appetite renewed ; and it is impossible to 
 say how many different dishes he called for. Only enchant- 
 ment, he was afterwards heard to declare (though none of his 
 friends believed him), could have given him the appetite he 
 possessed on that extraordinary night. He called for another 
 pork-chop and potatoes, then for pickled salmon ; then he 
 thought he would try a devilled turkey-wing. " I adore the 
 devil," said he. 
 
 " So do I," said the pale lady, with unwonted animation ; 
 and the dish was served straightway. It was succeeded by 
 black-puddings, tripe, toasted cheese, and — what was most re- 
 markable — every one of the dishes which he desired came from 
 under the same silver cover : which circumstance, when he had 
 partaken of about fourteen different articles, he began to find 
 rather mysterious. 
 
 " Oh," said the pale lady, with a smile, "the mystery is 
 easily accounted for : the servants hear you, and the kitchen is 
 below y But this did not account for the manner in which 
 more half-and-half, bitter ale, punch (both gin and rum), and 
 even oil and vinegar, which he took with cucumber to his 
 salmon, came out of the self-same bottle from which the lady 
 had first poured out his pint of half-and-half. 
 
 " There are more things in heaven and earth, Voracio," 
 said his arch entertainer, when he put this question to her, 
 " than are dreamt of in your philosophy : " and, sooth to say, 
 the archer was by this time in such a state, that he did not 
 find anything wonderful more. 
 
 " Are you happy, dear youth ? " said the lady, as, after his 
 collation, he sank back in his chair. 
 
 " Oh, miss, ain't I ! " was his interrogative and yet affirma- 
 tive reply. 
 
 " Should you like such a supper every night, Wolfgang ? " 
 continued the pale one. 
 
 "Why, no," said he; " no, not exactly; not every night: 
 some nights I should like oysters." 
 
 " Dear youth," said she, "be but mine, and you may have 
 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 them all the year round ! " The unhappy boy was too far 
 gone to suspect anything, otherwise this extraordinary speech 
 would have told him that he was in suspicious company. A 
 person who can offer oysters all the year round can live to no 
 good purpose. 
 
 " Shall I sing you a song, dear archer ? " said the lady. 
 
 " Sweet love ! " said he, now much excited, " strike up, and 
 I will join the chorus." 
 
 She took down her mandolin, and commenced a ditty. 'Twas 
 a sweet and wild one. It told how a lady of high lineage cast 
 her eyes on a peasant page • it told how nought could her love 
 assuage, her suitor's wealth and her father's rage : it told how 
 the youth did his foes engage ; and at length they went off in 
 the Gretna stage, the high-born dame and the peasant page. 
 Wolfgang beat time, waggled his head, sung wofully out of tune 
 as the song proceeded ; and if he had not been too intoxicated 
 with love and other excitement, he would have remarked how 
 the pictures on the wall, as the lady sung, began to waggle 
 their heads too, and nod and grin to the music. The song en- 
 ded. " I am the lady of high lineage : Archer, will you be the 
 peasant page ? " 
 
 " I'll follow you to the devil ! " said Wolfgang. 
 
 " Come," replied the lady, glaring wildly on him, " come to 
 the chapel ; we'll be married this minute ! " 
 
 She held out her hand — Wolfgang took it. It was coM, 
 damp, — deadly cold ; and on they went to the chapel. 
 
 As they passed out, the two pictures over the wall, of a gen- 
 tleman and lady, tripped lightly out of their frames, skipped 
 noiselessly down to the ground, and making the retreating 
 couple a profound curtsey and bow, took the places which they 
 had left at the table. 
 
 Meanwhile the young couple passed on towards the chapel, 
 threading innumerable passages, and passing through chambers 
 of great extent. As they came along, all the portraits on the 
 wall stepped out of their frames to follow them. One ancestor, 
 of whom there was only a bust, frowned in the greatest rage, 
 because, having no legs, his pedestal would not move ; and 
 several sticking-plaster profiles of the former Lords of Windeck 
 looked quite black at being, for similar reasons, compelled to 
 keep their places. However, there was a goodly procession 
 formed behind Wolfgang and his bride ; and by the time they 
 reached the church, they had near a hundred followers. 
 
 The church was splendidly illuminated; the old banners of 
 the old knights glittered as they do at Drury Lane. The or- 
 
THE LADY OF WIND EC K. 
 
 gan setup of itself to play the " Bridesmaid's Chorus." The 
 choir-chairs were filled with people in black. 
 " Come, love," said the pale lady. 
 
 " I don't see the parson," exclaimed Wolfgang, spite of him- 
 self rather alarmed. 
 
 " Oh, the parson ! that's the easiest thing in the world ! I 
 say, bishop ! " said the lady, stooping down. 
 
 Stooping down — and to what ? Why, upon my word and 
 honor, to a great brass plate on the floor, over which they were 
 passing, and on which was engraven the figure of a bishop — 
 and a very ugly bishop, too — with crosier and mitre, and lifted 
 finger, on which sparkled the episcopal ring. " Do, my dear 
 lord, come and marry us," said the lady, with a levity which 
 shocked the feelings of her bridegroom. 
 
 The bishop got up ; and directly he rose, a dean, who was 
 sleeping under a large slate near him, came bowing and cring- 
 ing up to him ; while a canon of the cathedral (whose name was 
 Schidnischmidt) began grinning and making fun at the pair. 
 The ceremony was begun, and # # * * 
 
 As the clock struck twelve, young Otto bounded up, and 
 remarked the absence of his companion Wolfgang. The idea 
 he had had, that his friend disappeared in company with a 
 white-robed female, struck him more and more. " I will follow 
 them," said he ; and, calling to the next on the watch (old 
 Snozo, who was right unwilling to forego his sleep), he rushed 
 away by the door through which he had seen Wolfgang and his 
 temptress take their way. 
 
 That he did not find them was not his fault. The castle 
 was vast, the chamber dark. There were a thousand doors, 
 and what wonder that, after he had once lost sight of them, the 
 intrepid Childe should not be able to follow in their steps ? As 
 might be expected, he took the wrong door, and wandered for 
 at least three hours about the dark enormous solitary castle, 
 calling out Wolfgang's name to the careless and indifferent 
 echoes, knocking his young shins against the ruins scattered in 
 the darkness, but still with' a spirit entirely undaunted, and a 
 firm resolution to aid his absent comrade. Brave Otto ! thy 
 exertions were rewarded at last ! 
 
 For he lighted at ' length upon the very apartment where 
 Wolfgang had partaken of supper, and where the old couple 
 who had been in the pictures-frames, and turned out to be the 
 lady's father and mother, were now sitting at the table. 
 
 " Well, Bertha has got a husband at last," said the lady. 
 
244 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE, 
 
 m 
 
 ■ ■ After waiting four hundred and fifty-three years for one, it 
 was quite time," said the gentleman. (He was dressed in 
 powder and a pigtail, quite in the old fashion.) 
 
 "The husband is no great things," continued the lady, 
 taking snuff. " A low fellow, my dear; a butcher's son, I 
 believe. Did you see how the wretch ate at supper ? To think 
 my daughter should have to marry an archer ! " 
 
 " There are archers and archers," said the old man. " Some 
 archers are snobs, as your ladyship states ; some, on the con- 
 trary, are gentlemen by birth, at least, though not by breeding. 
 Witness young Otto, the Landgrave of Godesberg's son, who 
 is listening at the door like a lackey, and whom I intend to run 
 through the " 
 
 "Law, Baron !" said the lady. 
 
 " I will, though," replied the Baron, drawing an immense 
 sword, and glaring round at Otto : but though at the sight of 
 that sword and that scowl a less valorous youth would have 
 taken to his heels, the undaunted Childe advanced at once into 
 the apartment. He wore round his neck a relic of St. Buffo 
 (the tip of the saint's ear, which had been cut off at Constan- 
 tinople). " Fiends ! I command you to retreat ! " said he, 
 holding up this sacred charm, which his mamma had fastened 
 on him ; and at the sight of it, with an unearthly yell the ghost 
 of the Baron and the Baroness sprung back into their picture 
 frames, as clown goes through a clock in a pantomime. 
 
 He rushed through the open door by which the unlucky 
 Wolfgang had passed with his demoniacal bride, and went on 
 and on through the vast gloomy chambers lighted by the ghastly 
 moonshine : the noise of the organ in the chapel, the lights in 
 the kaleidoscopic windows, directed him towards that edifice. 
 He rushed to the door : 'twas barred ! He knocked : the 
 beadles were deaf. He applied his inestimable relic to the 
 lock, and — whizz ! crash ! clang ! bang ! whang ! — the gate 
 flew open ! the organ went off in a fugue — the lights quivered 
 over the tapers, and then went off towards the ceiling — the 
 ghosts assembled rushed away with a skurry and a scream — 
 the bride howled, and vanished — the fat bishop waddled back 
 under his brass plate — the dean flounced down into his family 
 vault — and the canon Schidnischmidt, who was making a joke, 
 as usual, on the bishop, was obliged to stop at the very point of 
 his epigram, and to disappear into the void whence he came. 
 
 Otto fell fainting at the porch, while Wolfgang tumbled 
 lifeless down at the altar-steps ; and in this situation the 
 archers, when they arrived, found the two youths. They were 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. 
 
 resuscitated, as we scarce need say : but when, in incoherent 
 accents, they came to tell their wondrous tale, some skeptics 
 among the archers said — " Pooh ! they were intoxicated ! " 
 while others, nodding their older heads, exclaimed — " They 
 have seen the Lady of Windeck /" and recalled the stories ot 
 many other young men, who, inveigled by her devilish arts, had 
 not been so lucky as Wolfgang, and had disappeared — for- 
 ever ! 
 
 This adventure bound Wolfgang heart and soul to his gal- 
 lant preserver ; and the archers — it being now morning, and 
 the cocks crowing lustily round about — pursued their way with- 
 out further delay to the castle of the noble patron of toxoph- 
 ilites, the gallant Duke of Cleves. 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. 
 
 Although there lay an immense number of castles and 
 abbeys between WLideck and Cleves, for every one of which the 
 guide-books have a legend and a ghost, who might, with the com- 
 monest stretch of ingenuity, be made to waylay our adventurers 
 on the road ; yet, as the journey would be thus almost inter- 
 minable, let us cut it short by saying that the travellers reached 
 Cleves without any further accident, and found the place 
 thronged with visitors for the meeting next day. 
 
 And here it would be easy to describe the company which 
 arrived, and make display of antiquarian lore. Now w'e would 
 represent a cavalcade of knights arriving, with their pages 
 carrying their chining helms of gold, and the stout esquiries, 
 bearers of lance and banner. Anon would arrive a fat abbot on 
 his ambling pad, surrounded by #ie white-robed companions of 
 his convent. Here should come the gleemen and jongleurs, the 
 minstrels, the mountebanks, the parti-colored gypsies, the dark- 
 eyed, nut-brown Zigeunerinnen ; then a troop of peasants chant- 
 ing Rhine-songs, and leading in their ox-drawn carts the peach- 
 cheeked girls from the vine-lands. Next we would depict the 
 litters blazoned with armorial bearings, from between thebroid- 
 ered curtains of which peeped out the swan-like necks and the 
 haughty faces of the blonde ladies of the castles. But for these 
 
246 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 descriptions we have not space ; and the reader is referred to 
 the account of the tournament in the ingenious novel of " Ivan- 
 hoe," where the above phenomena are described at length. 
 Suffice it to say, that Otto and his companions arrived at the 
 town of Cleves, and, hastening to a hostel, reposed themselves 
 after the day's march, and prepared them for the encounter of 
 the morrow. 
 
 That morrow came : and as the sports were to begin early, 
 Otto and his comrades hastened to the field, armed with their 
 best bows and arrows, you may be sure, and eager to distin- 
 guish themselves ; as were the multitude of other archers as- 
 sembled. They were from all neighboring countries — crowds 
 of English, as you may fancy, armed with Murray's guide- 
 books, troops of chattering Frenchmen, Frankfort Jews with 
 roulette-tables, and Tyrolese, with gloves and trinkets — all hied 
 towards the field where the butts were set up, and the archery 
 practice was to be held. The Childe and his brother archers 
 were, it need not to be said, early on the ground. 
 
 But what words of mine can describe the young gentle- 
 man's emotion when, preceded by a band of trumpets, bag- 
 pipes, ophicleides, and other wind instruments, the Prince of 
 Cleves appeared with the Princess Helen, his daughter ? And 
 ah ! what expressions of my humble pen can do justice to the 
 beauty of that young lady ? Fancy every charm which decor- 
 ates the person, every virtue which ornaments the mind, every 
 accomplishment which renders charming mind and charming 
 person doubly charming, and then you will have but a faint 
 and feeble idea of the beauties of her Highness the Princess 
 Helen. Fancy a complexion such as they say (I know not 
 with what justice) Rowland's Kalydor imparts to the users of 
 that cosmetic ; fancy teeth to which orient pearls are like Walls- 
 end coals ; eyes, which were so blue, tender, and bright, that 
 while they run you through with their lustre, they healed you 
 with their kindness ; a neck and waist, so ravishingly slender 
 and graceful, that the least that is said about them the better ; 
 a foot which fell upon the flowers no heavier than a dewdrop — 
 and this charming person set off by the most elegant toilet that 
 ever milliner devised ! The lovely Helen's hair (which was as 
 black as the finest varnish for boots) was so long, that it was 
 borne on a cushion several yards behind her by the maidens 
 of her train ; and a hat, set off with moss-roses, sunflowers, 
 bugles, birds of paradise, gold lace, and pink ribbon, gave her 
 a distingue air, which would have set the editor of the Morning 
 Post mad with love. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. 
 
 247 
 
 It had exactly the same effect upon the noble Childe of 
 Godesberg, as leaning on his ivory-bow, with his legs crossed, 
 he stood and gazed on her, as Cupid gazed on Psyche. Their 
 eyes met : it was all over with both of them. A blush came at 
 one and the same minute budding to the cheek of either. A 
 simultaneous throb beat in those young hearts ! They loved 
 each other forever from that instant. Otto still stood, cross- 
 legged, enraptured, leaning on his ivory bow ; but Helen, call- 
 ing to a maiden for her pocket-handkerchief, blew her beauti- 
 ful Grecian nose in order to hide her agitation. Bless ye, 
 bless ye, pretty ones ! I am old now ; but not so old but that 
 I kindle at the tale of love. Theresa MacWhirter too has 
 lived and loved. Heigho ! 
 
 Who is yon chief that stands behind the truck whereon are 
 seated the Princess and the stout old lord, her father ? Who 
 is he whose hair is of the carroty hue ? whose eyes, across a 
 snubby bunch of a nose, are perpetually scowling at each 
 other • who has a hump-back, and a hideous mouth, surrounded 
 with bristles, and crammed full of jutting yellow odious teeth. 
 Although he wears a sky-blue doublet laced with silver, it only 
 serves to render his vulgar punchy figure doubly ridiculous ; 
 although his nether garment is of salmon-colored velvet, it 
 only draws the more attention to his legs, which are disgust- 
 ingly crooked and bandy. A rose-colored hat, with towering 
 pea-green ostrich-plumes, looks absurd on his bull-head ; and 
 though it is time of peace, the wretch is armed with a multi- 
 plicity of daggers, knives, yataghans, dirks, and sabres, and 
 scimitars, which testify his truculent and bloody disposition. 
 'Tis the terrible Rowski de Don nerblitz, Margrave of Eulen- 
 schreckenstein. Report says he is a suitor for the hand of the 
 lovely Helen. He addresses various speeches of gallantry to 
 her, and grins hideously as he thrusts his disgusting head over 
 her lily shoulder. But she turns away from him ! turns and 
 shudders — ay, as she would at a black dose ! 
 
 Otto stands gazing still, and leaning on his bow. " What' 
 is the prize ! " asks one archer of another. There are two 
 prizes — a velvet cap, embroidered by the hand of the Princess, 
 and a chain of massive gold, of enormous value. Both lie on 
 cushions before her. 
 
 M I know which I shall choose, when I win the first prize," 
 says a swarthy, savage, and bandy-legged archer, who bears 
 the owl gules on a black shield, the cognizance of the Lord 
 Rowski de Donnerblitz. 
 
 " Which, fellow ? " says Otto, turning fiercely upon him. 
 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 " The chain, to be sure ! " says the leering archer. " You 
 do not suppose I am such a flat as as to choose that velvet 
 gimcrack there ? " Otto laughed in scorn, and began to pre- 
 pare his bow. The trumpets sounding proclaimed that the 
 sports were about to commence. 
 
 Is it necessary to describe them ? No : that has already 
 been done in the novel of " Ivanhoe " before mentioned. 
 Fancy the archers clad in Lincoln green, all coming forward 
 in turn, and firing at the targets. Some hit, some missed ; 
 those that missed were fain to retire amidst the jeers of the 
 multitudinous spectators. Those that hit began new trials of 
 skill ; but it was easy to see, from the first, that the battle lay 
 between Squintoff (the Rowski archer) and the young hero 
 with the golden hair and the ivory bow. Squintoff 's fame as 
 a marskman was known throughout Europe ; but who was his 
 young competitor ? Ah ! there was one heart in the assembly 
 that beat most anxiously to know. 'Twas Helen's. 
 
 The crowning trial arrived. The bull's-eye of the target, 
 set up at three-quarters of a mile distance from the archers, 
 was so small, that it required a very clever man indeed to see, 
 much more to hit it ; and as Squintoff was selecting his arrow 
 for the final trial, the Rowski flung a purse of gold towards his 
 archer, saying — Squintoff, an ye win the prize, the purse is 
 thine." " I may as well pocket it at once, your honor," said 
 the bowman, with a sneer at Otto. " This young chick, who 
 has been lucky as yet, will hardly hit such a mark as that." 
 And, taking his aim, Squintoff discharged his arrow right into 
 the very middle of the bull's-eye. 
 
 " Can you mend that, young springald ? " said he, as a 
 shout rent the air at his success, as Helen turned pale to think 
 that the champion of her secret heart was likely to be over- 
 come, and as Squintoff, pocketing the Rowski's money, turned 
 to the noble boy of Godesberg. 
 
 " Has anybody got a pea ? " asked the lad. Everybody 
 laughed at \ his droll request; and an old woman, who was 
 selling porridge in the crowd, handed him the vegetable which 
 he demanded. It was a dry and yellow pea. Otto, stepping 
 up to the target, caused Squintoff to extract his arrow from the 
 bull's-eye, and placed in the orifice made by the steel point of 
 the shaft, the pea which he had received from the old woman. 
 He then came back to his place. As he prepared to shoot, 
 Helen was so overcome by emotion, that 'twas thought she 
 would have fainted. Never, never had she seen a being so 
 beautiful as the young hero now before her. 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN. 
 
 249 
 
 He looked almost divine. He flung back his long clusters 
 of hair from his bright eyes and tall forehead ; the blush of 
 health mantled on his cheek, from which the barber's weapon 
 had never shorn the down. He took his bow, and one of his 
 most elegant arrows, and poising himself lightly on his right 
 leg, he flung himself forward, raising his left leg on a level with 
 his ear. He looked like Apollo, as he stood balancing himself 
 there. He discharged his dart from the thrumming bowstring- 
 it clove the blue air — whizz ! 
 
 " He has split the pea ! " said the Princess, and fainted. 
 The Rowski, with one eye, hurled an indignant look at the 
 boy, while with the other he levelled (if aught so crooked can 
 be said to level anything) a furious glance at his archer. 
 
 The archer swore a sulky oath. " He is the better man ! " 
 said he. " I suppose, young chap, you take the gold chain ? " 
 
 " The gold chain ! " said Otto. " Prefer a gold chain to a 
 cap worked by that august hand ? Never ! " And advancing 
 to the balcony where the Princess, who now came to herself, 
 was sitting, he kneeled down before her, and received the 
 velvet cap ; which, blushing as scarlet as the cap itself, the 
 Princess Helen placed on his golden ringlets. Once more 
 their eyes met — their hearts thrilled. They had never spoken, 
 but they knew they loved each other forever. 
 
 " Wilt thou take service with the Rowski of Donnerblitz ? " 
 said the individual to the youth. " Thou shalt be captain of 
 my archers in place of yon blundering nincompoop, whom thou 
 hast overcome." 
 
 " Yon blundering nincompoop is a skilful and gallant 
 archer," replied Otto, haughtily; and I will not take service 
 with the Rowski of Donnerblitz." 
 
 " Wilt thou enter the household of the Prince of Cleves ? " 
 said the father of Helen, laughing, and not a little amused at 
 the haughtiness of the humble archer. 
 
 "I would die for the Duke of Cleves and his family" said 
 Otto, bowing low. He laid a particular and a tender emphasis 
 on the word family. Helen knew what he meant. She was 
 the family. In fact, her mother was no more, and her papa 
 had no other offspring. 
 
 "What is thy name, good fellow," said the Prince, "that 
 my steward may enrol thee ? " 
 
 " Sir," said Otto, again blushing, " I am Otto the 
 Archer." 
 
250 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 THE MARTYR OF LOVE. 
 
 The archers who had travelled in company with young 
 Otto, gave a handsome dinner in compliment to "the success of 
 our hero ; at which his friend distinguished himself as usual in 
 the eating and drinking department. Squintorl, the Rowski 
 bowman, declined to attend : so great was the envy of the brute 
 at the youthful hero's superiority. As for Otto himself, he sat 
 on the right hand of the chairman ; but it was remarked that 
 he could not eat. Gentle reader of my page ! thou knowest 
 why full well. He was too much in love to have any appetite ; 
 for though I myself when laboring under that passion, never 
 found my consumption of victuals diminish, yet remember our 
 Otto was a hero of romance, and they never are hungry when 
 they're in love. 
 
 The next day, the young gentleman proceeded to enrol him- 
 self in the corps of Archers of the Prince of Cleves, and with 
 him came his attached squire, who vowed he never would leave 
 him. As Otto threw aside his own elegant dress, and donned 
 the livery of the House of Cleves, the noble Childe sighed not 
 a little. 'Twas a splendid uniform 'tis true, but still it was a 
 livery, and one of his proud spirit ill bears another's cogniz- 
 ances. " They are the colors of the Princess, however," said 
 he, consoling himself; " and what suffering would I not under- 
 go for her % " As for Wolfgang, the squire, it may well be sup- 
 posed that the good-natured, low-born fellow had no such 
 scruples ; but he was glad enough to exchange for the pink 
 hose, the yellow jacket, the pea-green cloak, and orange-tawny 
 hat, with which the Duke's steward supplied him, the homely 
 patched doublet of green which he had worn for years past. 
 
 " Look at yon two archers," said the Prince of Cleves to 
 his guest the Rowski of Donnerblitz, as they were strolling on 
 the battlements after dinner, smoking their cigars as usual. 
 His Highness pointed to our two young friends, who were 
 mounting guard for the first time. " See yon two bowmen — 
 mark their- bearing ! One is the youth who beat thy SquintofT, 
 and t'other, an I mistake not, won the third prize at the butts. 
 Both wear the same uniform — the colors of my house — yet, 
 would'st not swear that the one was but a churl, and the other 
 a noble gentleman ? " 
 
THE MARTYR OF LOVE. 
 
 " Which looks like the nobleman ? " said the Rowski, as 
 black as thunder. 
 
 " Which ? why, young Otto, to be sure," said the Princess 
 Helen, eagerly. The young lacly was following the pair ; but 
 under pretence of disliking the odor of the cigar, she had re- 
 fused the Rowski's proffered arm, and was loitering behind with 
 her parasol. 
 
 Her interposition in favor of her young protege only made 
 the black and jealous Rowski more ill-humored. How long is 
 it, Sir Prince of Cleves," said he, " that the churls who wear 
 your livery permit themselves to wear the ornaments of noble 
 knights ? Who but a noble dare wear ringlets such as yon 
 springald's ? Ho, archer ! " roared he, " come hither, fellow." 
 And Otto stood before him. As he came, and presenting arms 
 stood respectfully before the Prince and his savage guest, he 
 looked for one moment at the lovely Helen — their eyes met, 
 their hearts beat simultaneously : and, quick, two little blushes 
 appeared in the cheek of either. I have seen one ship at sea 
 answering another's signal so. 
 
 While they are so regarding each other, let us just remind 
 our readers of the great estimation in which the hair was held 
 in the North. Only nobles were permitted to wear it long. 
 When a man disgraced himself, a shaving was sure to follow. 
 Penalties were inflicted upon villains or vassals who sported 
 ringlets. See the works of Aurelius Tonsor ; Hirsutus de 
 Nobilitate Capillar! ; Rolandus de Oleo Macassari ; Schnurr- 
 bart : Frisirische Alterthumskunde, &c. 
 
 "We must have those ringlets of thine cut, good fellow," 
 said the Duke of Cleves good-naturedly, but wishing to spare 
 the feelings of his gallant recruit. " 'Tis against the regula- 
 tion cut of my archer guard." 
 
 " Cut off my hair ! " crid Otto, agonized. 
 
 " Ay, and thine ears with it, yokel," roared Donnerblitz. 
 
 " Peace, noble Eulenschrekenstein," said the Duke with 
 dignity : " let the Duke of Cleves deal as he will with his own 
 men-at-arms. And you, young sir, unloose the grip of thy 
 dagger." 
 
 Otto, indeed, had convulsively grasped his snickersnee, with 
 intent to plunge it into the heart of the Rowski ; but his politer 
 . feelings overcame him. "The count need not fear, my lord," 
 said he : " a lady is present." And he took off his orange- 
 tawny cap and bowed low. Ah ! what a pang shot through the 
 heart of Helen, as she thought that those lovely ringlets must 
 be shorn from that beautiful head ! 
 
252 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Otto's mind was, too, in commotion. His feelings as a gen- 
 tleman — let us add, his pride as a man — for who is not, let us 
 ask, proud of a good head of hair ? — waged war within his soul. 
 He expostulated with the Prince. "It was never in my con- 
 templation," he said, " on taking service, to undergo the oper- 
 ation of hair-cutting." 
 
 "Thou art free to go or stay, Sir Archer," said the Prince 
 pettishly. " I will have no churls imitating noblemen in my 
 service : I will bandy no conditions with Archers of my guard." 
 
 " My resolve is taken," said Otto, irritated too in his turn. 
 " I will # # * # " 
 
 " What ? " cried Helen, breathless with intense agitation. 
 
 " I will stay" answered Otto. The poor girl almost fainted 
 with joy. The Rowski frowned with demoniac fury, and grind- 
 ing his teeth and cursing in the horrible German jargon, stalked 
 away. " So be it," said the Prince of Cleves, taking his daugh- 
 ter's arm — " and here comes Snipwitz, my barber, who shall 
 do the business for you." With this the Prince too moved on, 
 feeling in his heart not a little compassion for the lad ; for 
 Adolf of Cleves had been handsome in his youth, and dis- 
 tinguished for the ornament of 'which he was now depriving his 
 archer. 
 
 Snipwitz led the poor boy into a side-room, and there — in 
 a word — operated upon him. The golden curls- — fair curls 
 that his mother had so often played with ! — fell under the 
 shears and round the lad's knees, until he k>oked as if he was 
 sitting in a bath of sunbeams. 
 
 When the frightful act had been performed, Otto, who en- 
 tered the little chamber in the tower ringleted like Apollo, 
 issued from it as cropped as a charity-boy. 
 
 See how melancholy he looks, now that the operation is 
 over ! — And no wonder. He was thinking what would be 
 Helen's opinion of him, now that one of his chief personal or- 
 naments was gone. " Will she know me ? " thought he ; " will 
 she love me after this hideous mutilation ? " 
 
 Yielding to these gloomy thoughts, and, indeed, rather un- 
 willing to be seen by his comrades, now that he was so dis- 
 figured, the young gentleman had hidden himself behind one of 
 the buttresses of the wall, a prey to natural_despondency ; when 
 he saw something which instantly restored him to good spirits. 
 He saw the lovely Helen coming towards the chamber where 
 the odious barber had performed upon him, — coming forward 
 timidly, looking round her anxiously, blushing with delightful 
 agitation, — and presently seeing, as she thought, the coast 
 
THE MARTYR OF LOVE. 
 
 253 
 
 clear, she entered the apartment. She stooped down, and ah ! 
 what was Otto's joy when he saw her pick up a beautiful golden 
 lock of his hair, press it to her lips, and then hide it in her 
 bosom ! No carnation ever blushed so redly as Helen did 
 when she came out after performing this feat. Then she hur- 
 ried straightway to her own apartments in the castle, and Otto, 
 whose first impulse was to come out from his hiding-place, and, 
 falling at her feet, call heaven and earth to witness to his pas- 
 sion, with difficulty restrained his feelings and let her pass : 
 but the love-stricken young hero was so delighted with this 
 evident proof of reciprocated attachment, that all regret at 
 losing his ringlets at once left him, and he vowed he would 
 sacrifice not only his hair, but his head, if need were, to do 
 her service. 
 
 That very afternoon, no small bustle and conversation took 
 place in the castle, on account of the sudden departure of the 
 Rowski of Eulenschreckenstein, with all his train and equipage. 
 He went away in the greatest wrath, it was said, after a long 
 and loud conversation with the Prince. As that potentate con- 
 ducted his guest to the gate, walking rather demurely and 
 shamefacedly by his side, as he gathered his attendants in the 
 court, and there mounted his charger, the Rowski ordered his 
 trumpets to sound, and scornfully flung a largesse of gold 
 among the servitors and men-at-arms of the House of Cleves, 
 who were marshalled in the court. " Farewell, Sir Prince," 
 said he to his host : " I quit you now suddenly \ but remember, 
 it is not my last visit to the Castle of Cleves." And ordering 
 his band to play " See the Conquering Hero comes," he clat- 
 tered away through the drawbridge. The Princess Helen was 
 ^not present at his departure ; and the venerable Prince of 
 Cleves looked rather moody and chop-fallen when his guest left 
 him. — He visited all the castle defences pretty accurately that 
 night, and inquired of his officers the state of the ammunition, 
 provisions, &c. He said nothing ; but the Princess Helen's 
 maid did : and everybody knew that the Rowski had made his 
 proposals, had been rejected, and, getting up in a violent fury, 
 had called on his people, and sworn by his great gods that he 
 would not enter the castle again until he rode over the breech, 
 lance in hand, the conqueror of Cleves and all belonging to it. 
 
 No little consternation was spread through the garrison at 
 the news : for everybody knew the Rowski to be one of the 
 most intrepid and powerful soldiers in all Germany, — one of 
 the most skilful generals. Generous to extravagance to his 
 own followers, he was ruthless to the enemy : a hundred stories 
 
 i7 
 
2 54 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 were told of the dreadful barbarities exercised by him in several 
 towns and castles which he had captured and sacked. And 
 poor Helen had the pain of thinking, that in consequence of 
 her refusal she was dooming all the men, women, and children 
 of the principality to indiscriminate and horrible slaughter. 
 
 The dreadful surmises regarding a war received in a few 
 days dreadful confirmation. It was noon, and the worthy 
 Prince of Cleves was taking his dinner (though the honest 
 warrior had had little appetite for that meal for some time past), 
 when trumpets were heard at the gate ; and presently the 
 herald of the Rowski of Donnerblitz, clad in a tabard on which 
 the arms of the Count were blazoned, entered the dining-hall. 
 A page bore a steel gauntlet on a cushion ; Bleu Sanglier had 
 his hat on his head. The Prince of Cleves put on his own, as 
 the herald came up to the chair of state where the sovereign 
 sat. 
 
 " Silence for Bleu Sanglier/' cried the Prince, gravely. 
 " Say your say, Sir Herald." 
 
 " In the name of the high and mighty Rowski, Prince of 
 Donnerblitz, Margrave of Eulenschreckenstein, Count of Kro- 
 tenwald, Schnauzestadt, and Galgenhiigel, Hereditary Grand 
 Corkscrew of the Holy Roman Empire — to you, Adolf the 
 Twenty-third, Prince of Cleves, I, Bleu Sanglier, bring war and 
 defiance. Alone, and lance to lance, or twenty to twenty in 
 field or in fort, on plain or on mountain, the noble Rowski 
 defies you. Here, or wherever he shall meet you, he proclaims 
 war to the death between you and him. In token whereof here 
 is his glove." And taking the steel glove from the page, Bleu 
 Boar flung it clanging on the marble floor. 
 
 The Princess Helen turned deadly pale : but the Prince, 
 with a good assurance, flung down his own glove, calling upon 
 some one to raise the Rowski's ; which Otto accordingly took 
 up and presented to him, on his knee. 
 
 " Boteler, fill my goblet," said the Prince to that functionary, 
 who, clothed in tight black hose, with a white kerchief, and a 
 napkin on his dexter arm, stood obsequiously by his master's 
 chair. The goblet was filled with Malvoisie : it held about 
 three quarts ; a precious golden hanap carved by the cunning 
 artificer, Benvenuto the Elorentine. 
 
 " Drink, Bleu Sanglier," said the Prince, " and put the gob- 
 let in thy bosom. Wear this chain, furthermore, for my sake." 
 And so saying, Prince Adolf flung a precious chain of emeralds 
 round the herald's neck. " An invitation to battle was ever a. 
 welcome call to Adolf of Cleves." So saying, and bidding his 
 
THE MARTYR OF LOVE. 
 
 2 55 
 
 people take good care of Bleu Sanglier's retinue, the Prince 
 left the hall with his daughter. All were marvelling at his 
 dignity, courage, and generosity. . 
 
 But, though affecting unconcern, the mind of Prince Adolf 
 was far from tranquil. He was no longer the stalwart knight 
 who, in the reign of Stanislaus Augustus, had, with his naked 
 fist, beaten a lion to death in three minutes ; and alone had 
 kept the postern of Peterwaradin for two hours against seven 
 hundred Turkish janissaries, who were assailing it. Those 
 deeds which had made the heir of Cleves famous were done 
 thirty years syne. A free liver since he had come into his 
 principality, and of a lazy turn, he had neglected "the athletic 
 exercises which had made him in youth so famous a champion, 
 and indolence had borne its usual fruits. He tried his old 
 battle-sword — that famous blade with which, in Palestine, he 
 had cut an elephant-driver in two pieces, and split asunder the 
 skull of the elephant which he rode. Adolf of Cleves could 
 scarcely now lift the weapon over his head. He tried his 
 armor. It was too tight for him. And the old soldier burst 
 into tears, when he found he could not buckle it. Such a man 
 was not fit to encounter the terrible Rowski in single combat. 
 
 Nor could he hope to make head against him for any time 
 in the field. The Prince's territories were small ; his vassals 
 proverbially lazy and peaceable ; his treasury empty. The 
 dismallest prospects were before him : and he passed a sleep- 
 less night writing to his friends for succor, and calculating 
 with his secretary the small amount of the resources which he 
 could bring to aid him against his advancing and powerful 
 enemy. 
 
 Helen's pillow that evening was also unvisited by slumber. 
 She lay awake thinking of Otto, — thinking of the danger and 
 the ruin her refusal to marry had brought upon her dear papa. 
 Otto, too, slept not : but his waking thoughts were brilliant and 
 heroic : the noble Childe thought how he should defend the 
 Princess, and win los and honor in the ensuing combat. 
 
256 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Chapter XII. 
 
 THE CHAMPION. 
 
 And now the noble Cleves began in good earnest to prepare 
 his castle for the threatened siege. He gathered in all the 
 available cattle round the property, and the pigs round many 
 miles ; and a dreadful slaughter of horned and snouted animals 
 took place, — the whole castle resounding with the lowing of 
 the oxen and the squeaks of the gruntlings, destined to provide 
 food for the garrison. These, when slain, (her gentle spirit, of 
 course, would not allow of her witnessing that disagreeable 
 operation,) the lovely Helen, with the assistance of her maidens, 
 carefully salted and pickled. Corn was brought in in great 
 quantities, the Prince paying for the same when he had money, 
 giving bills when he could get credit, or occasionally, marry, send- 
 ing out a few stout men-at-arms to forage, who brought in wheat 
 without money or credit either. The charming Princess, amidst 
 the intervals of her labors, went about encouraging the gar- 
 rison, who vowed to a man they would die for a single sweet 
 smile of hers ; and in order to make their inevitable sufferings 
 as easy as possible to the gallant fellows, she and the apothe- 
 caries got ready a plenty of efficacious simples, and scraped 
 a vast quantity of lint to bind their warriors' wounds withal. 
 All the fortifications were strengthened ; the fosses carefully 
 filled with spikes and water ; large stones placed over the gates, 
 convenient to tumble on the heads of the assaulting parties; 
 and cauldrons prepared, with furnaces to melt up pitch, brim- 
 stone, boiling oil, &c , wherewith hospitably to receive them. 
 Having the keenest eye in the whole garrison, young Otto was 
 placed on the topmost tower, to watch for the expected coming 
 of the beleaguering host. 
 
 They were seen only too soon. Long ranks of shining 
 spears were seen glittering in the distance, and the army of the 
 Rowski soon made its appearance in battle's magnificently stern 
 array. The tents of the renowned chief and his numerous war- 
 riors were pitched out of arrow -shot of the castle, but in fearful 
 proximity ; and when his army had taken up its position, an 
 officer with a flag of truce and a trumpet was seen advancing 
 to the castle gate. It was the same herald who had previously 
 borne his master's defiance to the Prince of Cleves. He came 
 
THE CHAMPION, 
 
 257 
 
 once more to the castle gate, and there proclaimed that the noble 
 Count Eulenschreckenstein was in arms without, ready to do 
 battle with the Prince of Cleves, or his champion ; that he 
 would remain in arms for three days, ready for combat. If no 
 man met him at the end of that period, he would deliver an as^- 
 sault, and would give quarter to no single soul in the garrison. 
 So saying, the herald nailed his lord's gauntlet on the castle 
 gate. As before, the Prince flung him over another glove from 
 the wall ; though how he was to defend himself from such a 
 warrior, or get a champion, or resist the pitiless assault that 
 must follow, the troubled old nobleman knew not in the least. 
 
 The Princess Helen passed the night in the chapel, vowing 
 tons of wax-candles to all the patron saints of the House of 
 Cleves, if they would raise her up a defender. 
 
 But how did the noble girl's heart sink — how were her 
 notions of the purity of man shaken within her gentle bosom, by 
 the dread intelligence which reached her the next morning, after 
 the defiance of the Rowski ! At roll-call it was discovered that 
 he on whom she principally relied — he whom her fond heart 
 had singled out as her champion, had proved faithless ! Otto, 
 the degenerate Otto, had fled ! His comrade, Wolfgang, had 
 gone with him. A rope was found dangling from the casement 
 of their chamber, and they must have swum the moat and 
 passed over to the enemy in the darkness of the previous night. 
 " A pretty lad was this fair-spoken archer of thine ! " said the 
 Prince her father to her ; " and a pretty kettle of fish hast thou 
 cooked for the fondest of fathers." She retired weeping to 
 her apartment. Never before had that young heart felt so 
 wretched. 
 
 That morning, at nine o'clock, as they were going to break- 
 fast, the Rowski's trumpets sounded. Clad in complete armor, 
 and mounted on his enormous piebald charger, he came out of 
 his pavilion, and rode slowly up and down in front of the castle. 
 He was ready there to meet a champion. 
 
 Three times each day did the odious trumpet sound the 
 same notes of defiance. Thrice daily did the steel-clad Rowski 
 come forth challenging the combat. The first day passed, and 
 there was no answer to his summons. The second day came 
 and went, but no champion had risen to defend. The taunt of 
 his shrill clarion remained without answer, and the sun went 
 down upon the wretchedest father and daughter in all the land 
 of Christendom. 
 
 The trumpets sounded an hour after sunrise, an hour after 
 noon, and an hour before sunset. The third day came, but 
 
 *7 
 
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 with it brought no hope. The first and second summons met 
 no response. At five o'clock the old Prince called his daughter 
 and blessed her. " I go to meet this Rowski," said he. " It 
 may be we shall meet no more, my Helen — my child — the in- 
 nocent cause of all this grief. If I shall fall to-night the 
 Rowski's victim, 'twill be that life is nothing without honor." 
 And so saying, he put into her hands a dagger, and bade her 
 sheathe it in her own breast so soon as the terrible champion 
 had carried the castle by storm. 
 
 This Helen most faithfully promised to do ; and her aged 
 father retired to his armory, and donned his ancient war- 
 worn-corselet. It had borne the shock of a thousand lances 
 ere this, but it was now so tight as almost to choke the knightly 
 wearer. 
 
 The last trumpet sounded — tantara ! tantara ! — its shrill 
 call rang over the wide plains, and the wide plains gave back 
 no answer. Again ! — but when its notes died away, there was 
 only a mournful, an awful silence. " Farewell, my child," said 
 the Prince, bulkily lifting himself into his battle-saddle. " Re- 
 member the dagger. Hark ! the trumpet sounds for the third 
 time. Open, warders ! Sound, trumpeters ! and good St. Ben- 
 digo guard the right." 
 
 But PufTendorfT, the trumpeter, had not leisure to lift the 
 trumpet to his Hps : when, hark ! from without there came 
 another note of another clarion ! — a distant note at first, then 
 swelling fuller. Presently, in brilliant variations, the full rich 
 notes of the " Huntsman's Chorus " came clearly over the 
 breeze ; and a thousand voices of the crowd gazing over the 
 gate exclaimed, " A champion ! a champion ! " 
 
 And, indeed, a champion had come. Issuing from the 
 forest came a knight and squire : the knight gracefully cantering 
 an elegant cream-colored Arabian of prodigious power — the 
 squire mounted on an unpretending gray cob ; which, never- 
 theless, was an animal of considerable strength and sinew. It 
 was the squire who blew the trumpet, through the bars of his 
 helmet ; the knight's visor was completely down. A small 
 prince's coronet of gold, from which rose three pink ostrich- 
 feathers, marked the warrior's rank: bis blank shield bore no 
 cognizance. As gracefully poising his lance he rode into the 
 green space where the Rowski's tents were pitched, the hearts 
 of all present beat with anxiety, and the poor Prince of Cleves, 
 especially, had considerable doubts about his new champion. 
 " So slim a figure as that can never compete with Donnerblitz," 
 said he, moodily, to his daughter; "but whoever he be, the 
 
THE CHAMPION. 
 
 2 59 
 
 fellow puts a good face on it, and rides like a man. See, he 
 has touched the Rowski's shield with the point of his lance ! 
 By St. Bendigo, a perilous venture ! " 
 
 The unknown knight had indeed defied the Rowski to the 
 death, as the Prince of Cleves remarked from the battlement 
 where he and his daughter stood to witness the combat • and 
 so, having defied his enemy, the Incognito galloped round under 
 the castle wall, bowing elegantly to the lovely Princess there, 
 and then took his ground and waited for the foe. His armor 
 blazed in the sunshine as he sat there, motionless, on his cream- 
 colored steed. He looked like one of those fairy knights one 
 has read of — one of those celestial champions who decided so 
 many victories before the invention of gunpowder. 
 
 The Rowski's horse was speedily brought to the door of his 
 pavilion ; and that redoubted warrior, blazing in a suit of mag- 
 nificent brass armor, clattered into his saddle. Long waves 
 of blood-red feathers bristled over his helmet, which was farther 
 ornamented by two huge horns of the aurochs. His lance was 
 painted white and red, and he whirled the prodigku., beam in 
 the air and caught it with savage glee. Pie laughed when he 
 saw the slim form of his antagonist ; and his soul rejoiced to 
 meet the coming battle. He dug his spurs into the enormous 
 horse he rode : the enormous horse snorted, and squealed, too, 
 with fierce pleasure. Pie jerked and curvetted him with a 
 brutal playfulness, and after a few minutes' turning and wheel- 
 ing, during which everybody had leisure to admire the perfec- 
 tion of his equitation, he cantered round to a point exactly 
 opposite his enemy, and pulled up his impatient chager. 
 
 The old Prince on the battlement was so eager for the com- 
 bat that he seemed quite to forget the clanger which menaced 
 himself, should his slim champion be discomfited by the tremen- 
 dous Knight of Donnerblitz. " Go it ! " said he, flinging his 
 truncheon into the ditch ; and at the word, the two warriors 
 rushed with whirling rapidity at each other. 
 
 And now ensued a combat so terrible, that a weak female 
 hand, like that of her who pens this tale of chivalry, can never 
 hope to do justice to the terrific theme. You have seen two 
 engines on the Great Western line rush past each other with a 
 pealing scream ? So rapidly did the two warriors gallop towards 
 one another ; the feathers of either streamed yards behind their 
 backs as they converged. Their shock as they met was as that 
 of two cannon-balls ; the mighty horses trembled and reeled 
 with the concussion ; the lance' aimed at the Rowski's helmet 
 bore off the coronet, the horns, the helmet itself, and hurled 
 
260 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 them to an incredible distance : a piece of the Rowski's left 
 ear was carried off on the point of the nameless warrior's 
 weapon. How had he fared ? His adversary's weapon had 
 glanced harmless along the blank surface of his polished buck- 
 ler ; and the victory so far was with him. 
 
 The expression of the Rowski's face, as, bareheaded, he 
 glared on his enemy with fierce bloodshot eyeballs, was one 
 worthy of a demon. The imprecatory expressions which he 
 made use of can never be copied by a feminine pen. 
 
 His opponent magnanimously declined to take advantage 
 of the opportunity thus offered him of finishing the combat by 
 splitting his opponent's skull with his curtal-axe, and, riding 
 back to his starting-place, bent his lance's point to the ground, 
 in token that he would wait until the Count of Eulenschrecken- 
 stein was helmeted afresh. 
 
 " Blessed Bendigo ! " cried the Prince, " thou art a gallant 
 lance ; but why didst not rap the Schelm's brain out ? " 
 
 " Bring me a fresh helmet ! " yelled the Rowski. Another 
 casque was brought to him by his trembling squire. 
 
 As soon as he had braced it, he drew his great flashing 
 sword from his side, and rushed at his enemy, roaring hoarsely 
 his cry of battle. The unknown knight's sword was unsheathed 
 in a moment, and at the next the two blades were clanking to- 
 gether the. dreadful music of the combat ! 
 
 The Donnerblitz wielded his with his usual savageness and 
 activity. It whirled round his adversary's head with frightful 
 rapidity. Now it carried away a feather of his plume ; now it 
 shore off a leaf of his coronet. The flail of the thrasher does 
 not fall more swiftly upon the corn. For many minutes it was 
 the Unknown's only task to defend himself from the tremendous 
 activity of the enemy. 
 
 But even the Rowski's strength would slacken after exer- 
 tion. The blows began to fall less thick anon, and the point of 
 the unknown knight began to make dreadful play. It found 
 and penetrated every joint of the Donnerblitz's armor. Now 
 it nicked him in the shoulder, where the vambrace was buckled 
 to the corselet; now it bored a shrewd hole under the light 
 brassart, and blood followed ; now with fatal dexterity, it darted 
 through the visor, and came back to the recover deeply tinged 
 with blood. A scream of rage followed the last thrust ; and no 
 wonder : — it had penetrated the Rowski's left eye. 
 
 His blood was trickling through a dozen orifices ; he was 
 almost choking in his helmet with loss of breath, and loss of 
 blood, and rage. Gasping with fury, he drew back his horse, 
 
THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 261 
 
 flung his great sword at his opponent's head, and once more 
 plunged at him, wielding his curtal-axe. 
 
 Then you should have seen the unknown knight employing 
 the same dreadful weapon ! Hitherto he had been on his de- 
 fence : now he began the attack ; and the gleaming axe whirred 
 in his hand like a reed, but descended like a thunderbolt ! 
 " Yield ! yield ! Sir Rowski," shouted he, in a calm, clear 
 voice. 
 
 A blow dealt madly at his head was the reply. 'Twas the 
 last blow that the Count of Eulenschreckenstein ever struck in 
 battle ! The curse was on his lips as the crushing steel 
 descended into his brain, and split it in two. He rolled like a 
 log from his horse : his enemy's knee was in a moment on his 
 chest, and the dagger of mercy at his throat, as the knight once 
 more called upon him to yield. 
 
 But there was no answer from within the helmet. When it 
 was withdrawn, the teeth were crunched together ; the mouth 
 that should have spoken, grinned a ghastly silence : one eye 
 still glared with hate and fury, but it was glazed with the film 
 of death ! 
 
 The red orb of the sun was just then dipping into the 
 Rhine. The unknown knight, vaulting once more into his sad- 
 dle, made a graceful obeisance to the Prince of Cleves and his 
 daughter, without a word, and galloped back into the forest, 
 whence he had issued an hour before sunset. 
 
 Chapter XIII. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE 
 
 The consternation which ensued on the death of the Row- 
 ski, speedily sent all his camp-followers, army, &c, to the right- 
 about. They struck their tents at the first news of his dis- 
 comfiture ; and each man laying hold of what he could, the 
 whole of the gallant force which had marched under his banner 
 in the morning had disappeared ere the sun rose. 
 
 On that night, as it may be imagined, the gates of the Castle 
 of Cleves were not shut. Everybody was free to come in. 
 Wine-butts were broached in all the courts ; the pickled meat 
 prepared in such lots for the siege was distributed among the 
 
262 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 people, who crowded to congratulate their beloved sovereign 
 on his victory ; and the Prince, as was customary with that 
 good man, who never lost an opportunity of giving a dinner- 
 party, had a splendid entertainment made ready for the upper 
 classes, the whole concluding with a tasteful display of fire- 
 works. 
 
 In the midst of these entertainments, our old friend the 
 Count of Hombourg arrived at the castle. The stalwart old 
 warrior swore by Saint Bugo that he was grieved the killing of 
 the Rowski had been taken out of his hand. The laughing 
 Cleves vowed by Saint Bendigo, Hombourg could never have 
 finished off his enemy so satisfactorily as the unknown knight 
 had just done. 
 
 But who was he ? was the question which now agitated the 
 bosom of these two old nobles. How to find him — how to re- 
 ward the champion and restorer of the honor and happiness 
 of Cleves ? They agreed over supper that he should be sought 
 for everywhere. Beadles were sent round the principal cities 
 within fifty miles, and the description of the knight advertised 
 in the Journal de Francfort and the Allgemeine Zeitung. The 
 hand of the Princess Helen was solemnly offered to him in 
 these advertisements, with the reversion of the Prince of Cleves' 
 splendid though somewhat dilapidated property. 
 
 " But we don't know him, my dear papa," faintly ejaculated 
 that young lady. " Some impostor may come in a suit of plain 
 armor, and pretend that he was the champion who overcame 
 the Rowski (a prince who had his faults certainly, but whose 
 attachment for me I can never forget) ; and how are you to say 
 whether he is the real knight cr not ? There are so many de- 
 ceivers in this world," added the Princess, in tears, " that one 
 can't be too cautious now." The fact is, that she was thinking 
 of the desertion of Otto in the morning ; by which instance of 
 faithlessness her heart was wellnigh broken. 
 
 As for that youth and his comrade Wolfgang, to the aston- 
 ishment of everybody at their impudence, they came to the 
 archers' mess that night, as if nothing had happened ; got their 
 supper, partaking both of meat and drink most plentifully ; 
 fell asleep when their comrades began to describe the events of 
 the day, and the admirable achievements of the unknown war- 
 rior ; and, turning into their hammocks, did not appear on 
 parade in the morning until twenty minutes after the names 
 were called. 
 
 When the Prince of Cleves heard of the return of these 
 deserters he was in a towering passion. " Where were you, 
 
THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 263 
 
 fellows/' shouted he, " during the time my castle was at its 
 utmost need ? " 
 
 Otto replied, " We were out on particular business." 
 
 f Does a soldier leave his post on the day of battle, sir ? 99 
 exclaimed the Prince. " You know the reward of such — Death ! 
 and death you merit. But you are a soldier only of yesterday, 
 and yesterday's victory has made me merciful. Hanged you 
 shall not be, as you merit — only flogged, both of you. Parade 
 the men, Colonel Tickelstern, after breakfast, and give these 
 scoundrels five hundred apiece." 
 
 You should have seen how young Otto bounded, when this 
 information was thus abruptly conveyed to him. " Flog me /" 
 cried he. " Flog Otto of " 
 
 " Not so, my father," said the Princess Helen, who had 
 been standing by during the conversation, and who had looked 
 at Otto all the while with the most ineffable scorn. " Not so : 
 although these persons have forgotten their duty " (she laid a 
 particularly sarcastic emphasis on the word persons), " we have 
 had no need of their services, and have luckily found others 
 more faithful. You promised your daughter a boon, papa ; it 
 is the pardon of these two persons. Let them go, and quit a 
 service they have disgraced ; a mistress — that is, a master — 
 they have deceived." 
 
 " Drum 'em out of the castle, Tickelstern • strip their uni- 
 forms from their backs, and never let me hear of the scoundrels 
 again." So saying, the old Prince angrily turned on his heels 
 to breakfast, leaving the two young men to the fun and derision 
 of their surrounding comrades. 
 
 The noble Count of Hombourg, who was taking his usual 
 airing on the ramparts before breakfast, came up at this junc- 
 ture, and asked what was the row ? Otto blushed when he saw 
 him, and turned away rapidly; but the Count, too, catching 
 a glimpse of him, with a hundred exclamations of joyful sur- 
 prise seized upon the lad, hugged him to his manly breast, 
 kissed him most affectionately, and almost burst into tears as 
 he embraced him. For, in sooth, the good Count had thought 
 his godson long ere this at the bottom of the silver Rhine. 
 
 The Prince of Cleves, who had come to the breakfast-parlor 
 window, (to invite his guest to enter, as the tea was made,) be- 
 held this strange scene from the window, as did the lovely 
 tea-maker likewise, with breathless and beautiful agitation. 
 The old Count and the archer strolled up and down the battle- 
 ments in deep conversation. By the gestures of surprise and 
 delight exhibited by the former, 'twas easy to see the young 
 
264 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 archer was conveying some very strange and pleasing news to 
 him ; though the nature of the conversation was not allowed to 
 transpire. 
 
 " A godson of mine," said the noble Count, when interro- 
 gated over his muffins. " I know his family ; worthy people ; 
 sad scapegrace ; ran away ; parents longing for him ; glad you 
 did not flog him ; devil to pay/' and so forth. The Count was 
 a man of few words, and told his tale in this brief, artless man- 
 ner. But why, at its conclusion, did the gentle Helen leave 
 the room, her eyes rilled with tears ? She left the room once 
 more to kiss a certain lock of yellow hair she had pilfered. A 
 dazzling, delicious thought, a strange wild hope, arose in her 
 soul ! 
 
 When she appeared again, she made some side-handed in- 
 quiries regarding Otto (with that gentle artifice oft employed by 
 women) • but he was gone. He and his companion were gone. 
 The Count of Hombourg had likewise taken his departure, 
 under pretext of particular business. How lonely the vast 
 castle seemed to Helen, now that he was no longer there. The 
 transactions of the last few days ; the beautiful archer-boy ; the 
 offer from the Rowski (always an event in a young lady's life) ; 
 the siege of the castle ; the death of her truculent admirer : all 
 seemed like a fevered dream to her : all was passed away, and 
 had left no trace behind. No trace ? — yes ! one : a little in- 
 significant lock of golden hair, over which the young creature 
 wept so much that she put it out of curl ; passing hours and 
 hours in the summer-house, where the operation had been per- 
 formed. 
 
 On the second day (it is my belief she would have gone into a 
 consumption and died of languor, if the event had been delayed 
 a day longer,) a messenger, with a trumpet, brought a letter in 
 haste to the Prince of Cleves, who was, as usual, taking refresh- 
 ment. " To the High and Mighty Prince," &c, the letter ran. 
 "The Champion who had the honor of engaging on Wednesday 
 last with his late Excellency the Rowski of Donnerblitz, presents 
 his compliments to H. S. H. the Prince of Cleves. Through the 
 medium of the public prints the C. has been made acquainted 
 with the flattering proposal of His Serene Highness relative to a 
 union between himself (the Champion) and Her Serene High- 
 ness the Princess Helen of Cleves. The Champion accepts 
 with pleasure that polite invitation, and will have the honor of 
 waiting upon the Prince and Princess of Cleves about half an 
 hour after the receipt of this letter." 
 
 "Tol lol de rol, girl," shouted the Prince with heartfelt joy. 
 
THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 265 
 
 (Have you not remarked, dear friend, how often in novel-books 
 and on the stage, joy is announced by the above burst of insen- 
 sate monosyllables ?) " Tol lol de rol. Don thy best kirtle, 
 child ; thy husband will be here anon." And Helen retired to 
 arrange her toilet for this awful event in the life of a young 
 woman. When she returned, attired to welcome her defender, 
 her young cheek was as pale as the white satin slip and orange 
 sprigs she wore. 
 
 She was scarce seated on the dais by her father's side, when 
 a huge flourish of trumpets from without proclaimed the arrival 
 of the Champion. Helen felt quite sick : a draught of ether was 
 necessary to restore her tranquillity. 
 
 The great door was flung open. He entered, — the same 
 tall warrior, slim, and beautiful, blazing in shining steel. He 
 approached the Prince's throne, supported on each side by a 
 friend likewise in armor. He knelt gracefully on one knee. 
 
 " I come," said he, in a voice trembling with emotion, "to, 
 claim, as per advertisement, the hand of the lovely Helen." 
 And be held out a copy of the Allgemeine Zeitung as he spoke. 
 
 " Art thou noble, Sir Knight ? " inquired the Prince of 
 Cleves. 
 
 " As noble as yourself," answered the kneeling steel. 
 " Who answers for thee ? " 
 
 " I, Karl, Margrave of Godesberg, his father ! " said the 
 knight on the right hand, lifting up his visor. 
 
 " And I — Ludwig, Count of Hombourg, his godfather ! " 
 said the knight on the left, doing likewise. 
 
 The kneeling knight lifted up his visor now, and looked on 
 Helen. 
 
 " I knew it was," said she, and fainted as she saw Otto the 
 Archer. 
 
 But she was soon brought to, gentles, as I have small need 
 to tell ye. In a very few days after, a great marriage took place 
 at Cleves, under the patronage of Saint Bugo, Saint Buffo, and 
 Saint Bendigo. After the marriage ceremony, the happiest and 
 handsomest pair in the world drove off in a chaise-and-four, to 
 pass the honeymoon at Kissingen. The Lady Theodora, whom 
 w r e left locked up in her convent a long while since, was pre- 
 vailed upon to come to Godesberg, where she was reconciled 
 to her husband. Jealous of her daughter-in-law, she idolized 
 her son, and spoiled all her little grandchildren. And so all 
 are happy, and my simple tale is done. 
 
 I read it in an old, old book, in a mouldy old circulating 
 library. 'Twas written in the French tongue, by the noble 
 
266 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE. 
 
 Alexandre Dumas ; but 'tis probable that he stole it from some 
 other, and that the other had filched it from a former tale-teller. 
 For nothing is new under the sun. Things die and are repro- 
 duced only*. And so it is that the forgotten tale of the great 
 Dumas reappears under the signature of 
 
 Theresa MacWhirter. 
 
 Whistlebinkie, N. B. t December I. 
 
REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 A ROMANCE UPON ROMANCE. 
 
REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 A ROMANCE UPON ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE OVERTURE. — COMMENCEMENT OF THE BUSINESS. 
 
 Well-beloved novel-readers and gentle patronesses of ro- 
 mance, assuredly it has often occurred to every one of you, 
 that the books we delight in have unsatisfactory conclusions, 
 and end quite prematurely with page 320 of the third volume. 
 At that epoch of the history it is well known that the hero is sel- 
 dom more than thirty years old, and the heroine by consequence 
 some seven or eight years younger ; and I would ask any of 
 you whether it is fair to suppose that people after the above age 
 have nothing worthy of note in their lives, and cease to exist as 
 they drive away from Saint George's, Hanover Square ? You, 
 dear young ladies, who get your knowledge of life from the cir- 
 culating library, may be led to imagine* that when the marriage 
 business is done, and Emilia is whisked off in the new travel- 
 ling-carriage, by the side of the enraptured Earl ; or Belinda, 
 breaking away from the tearful embraces of her excellent 
 mother, dries her own lovely eyes upon the throbbing waistcoat 
 of her bridegroom — you may be apt, I say, to suppose that all 
 is over then ; that Emilia and the Earl are going to be happy 
 for the rest of their lives in his lordship's romantic castle in the 
 North, and Belinda and her young clergyman to enjoy uninter- 
 rupted bliss in their rose-trellised parsonage in the West of 
 England : but some there be among the novel-reading classes 
 — old experienced folks — who know better than this. Some 
 there be who have been married, and found that they have still 
 
 18 < 26 9> 
 
270 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 something to see and to do, and to suffer mayhap • and that 
 adventures, and pains, and pleasures, and taxes, and sunrises 
 and setting, and the business and joys and griefs of life go on 
 after, as before the nuptial ceremony. 
 
 Therefore I say, it is an unfair advantage which the novelist 
 takes of hero and heroine, as of his inexperienced reader, to 
 say good-by to the two former, as soon as ever they are made 
 husband and wife ; and I have often wished that additions 
 should be made to all works of fiction which have been brought 
 to abrupt terminations in the manner described; and that we 
 should hear what occurs to the sober married man, as well as 
 to the ardent bachelor; to the matron, as well as to the blush- 
 ing spinster. And in this respect I admire (and would desire 
 to imitate) the noble and prolific French author, Alexandre 
 Dumas, who carries his heroes from early youth down to the 
 most venerable old age ; and does not let them rest until they 
 are so old, that it is full time the poor fellows should get a 
 little peace and quiet. A hero is much too valuable a gentle- 
 man to be put upon the retired list, in the prime and vigor of 
 his youth ; and I wish to know what lady among us would like 
 to be put on the shelf, and thought no longer interesting, be- 
 cause she has a family growing up, and is four or five and thirty 
 years of age ? I have known ladies at sixty, with hearts as 
 tender and ideas as romantic as any young misses of sixteen. 
 Let us have middle-aged novels then, as well as your extremely 
 juvenile legends : let the young ones be warned that the old 
 folks have a right to be interesting : and that a lady may con- 
 tinue to have a heart, although she is somewhat stouter than 
 she was when a school-girl, and a man his feelings, although he 
 gets his hair from Truefitt's. 
 
 Thus I would desire that the biographies of many of our 
 most illustrious personages of romance should be continued 
 by fitting hands, and that they should be heard of, until at 
 least a decent age. — Look at Mr. James's heroes : they invari- 
 ably marry young. Look at Mr. Dickens's : they disappear 
 from the scene when they are mere chits. I trust these authors, 
 who are still alive, will see the propriety of telling us something 
 more about people in whom we took a considerable interest, 
 and who must be at present strong and hearty, and in the full 
 vigor of health and intellect. And in the tales of the great 
 Sir Walter (may honor be to his name), I am sure there are a 
 number of people who are untimely carried away from us, and 
 of whom we ought to hear more. 
 
 My dear Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York, has always, 
 
THE OVERTURE, 
 
 271 
 
 in my mind, been one of these ; nor can I ever believe that 
 such a woman, so admirable, so tender, so heroic, so beautiful, 
 could disappear altogether before such another woman as Ro- 
 wena, that vapid, flaxen-headed creature, who is, in my humble 
 opinion, unworthy of Ivanhoe, and unworthy of her place as 
 heroine. Had both of them got their rights, it ever seemed to 
 me that Rebecca would have had the husband, and Rowena 
 would have gone off to a convent and shut herself up, where 
 I, for one, would never have taken the trouble of inquiring fcr 
 her. 
 
 But after all she married Ivanhoe. What is to be done ? 
 There is no help for it. There it is in black and white at the 
 end of the third volume of Sir Walter Scott's chronicle, -that 
 the couple were joined together in matrimony. And must the 
 Disinherited Knight, whose blood has been fired by the suns of 
 Palestine, and whose heart has been warmed in the company 
 of the tender and beautiful Rebecca, sit down contented for 
 life by the side of such a frigid piece of propriety as that icy, 
 faultless, prim, niminy-piminy Rowena ? Forbid it fate, forbid 
 it poetical justice ! There is a simple plan for setting matters 
 right, and giving all parties their due, which is here submitted 
 to the novel-reader. Ivanhoe's history must have had a con- 
 tinuation ; and it is this which ensues. I may be wrong in 
 some particulars of the narrative, — as what writer will not be ? 
 — but of the main incidents of the history, I have in my own 
 mind no sort of doubt, and confidently submit them to that 
 generous public which likes to see virtue righted, true love re- 
 warded, and the brilliant Fairy descend out of the blazing 
 chariot at the end of the pantomime, and make Harlequin and 
 Columbine happy. What, if reality be not so, gentlemen and 
 ladies ; and if, after dancing a variety of jigs and antics, and 
 jumping in and out of endless trap-doors and windows, through 
 life's shifting scenes, no fairy comes down to make us comfort- 
 able at the close of the performance ? Ah ! let us give our 
 honest novel-folks the benefit of their position, and not be en- 
 vious of their good luck. 
 
 No person who has read the preceding volumes of this 
 history, as the famous chronicler of Abbotsford has recorded 
 them, can doubt for a moment what was the result of the 
 marriage between Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe and Lady Rowena. 
 Those who have marked her conduct during her maidenhood, 
 her distinguished politeness, her spotless modesty of demeanor, 
 her unalterable coolness under all circumstances, and her lofty 
 and gentlewomanlike bearing, must be sure that her married 
 
272 * REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 conduct would equal her spinster behavior, and that Rowena 
 the wife would be a pattern of correctness for all the matrons 
 of England. 
 
 Such was the fact. For miles around Rotherwood her 
 character for piety was known. Her castle was a rendezvous 
 for all the clergy and monks of the district, whom she fed with 
 the richest viands, while she pinched herself upon pulse and 
 water. There was not an invalid in the three Ridings, Saxon 
 or Norman, but the palfrey of the Lady Rowena might be seen 
 journeying to his door, in company with Father Glauber, her 
 almoner, and Brother Thomas of Epsom, her leech. She 
 lighted up all the churches in Yorkshire with wax-candles, the 
 offerings of her piety. The bells of her chapel began to ring 
 at two o'clock in the morning ; and all the domestics of Rother- 
 wood were called upon to attend at matins, at complins, at 
 nones, at vespers, and at sermon. I need not say that fasting 
 was observed with all the rigors of the Church j and that those 
 of the servants of-the Lady Rowena were looked upon with 
 most favor whose hair-shirts were the roughest, and who flagel- 
 lated themselves with the most becoming perseverance. 
 
 Whether it was that this discipline cleared poor Wamba's 
 wits or cooled his humor, it is certain that he became the most 
 melancholy fool in England, and if ever he ventured upon a 
 pun to the shuddering poor servitors, who were mumbling their 
 dry crusts below the salt, it was such a faint and stale joke that 
 nobody dared to laugh at the »inuendoes of the unfortunate 
 wag, and a sickly smile was the best applause he could muster. 
 Once, indeed, when Guffo, the gooseboy (a half-witted poor 
 wretch), laughed outright at a- lamentably stale pun which 
 Wamba palmed upon him at supper-time, (it was dark, and the 
 torches being brought in, Wamba said, " Guffo, they can't see 
 their way in the argument, and are going to throw a little light 
 upon the subject"} the Lady Rowena, being disturbed in a 
 theological controversy with Father Willibald, (afterwards can- 
 onized as St. Willibald, of Bareacres, hermit and confessor,) 
 called out to know what was the cause of the unseemly inter- 
 ruption, and Guffo and Wamba being pointed out as the cul- 
 prits, ordered them straightway into the court-yard, and three 
 dozen to be administered to each of them. 
 
 " I got you out of Front-de-Bceuf's castle," said poor 
 Wamba, piteously, appealing to Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, " and 
 canst thou not save me from the lash ? " 
 
 " Yes, from Front-de-Bceuf's castle, where you were locked up 
 with the Jewess in the tower!" said Rowena, haughtily reply- 
 
THE OVERTURE. 
 
 273 
 
 ing to the timid appeal of her husband. " Gurth, give him four 
 dozen ! " 
 
 And this was all poor Wamba got by applying for the 
 mediation of his master. 
 
 In fact, Rowena knew her own dignity so well as a princess 
 of the royal blood of England, that Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, her 
 consort, could scarcely call his life his own, and was made, in 
 all things, to feel the inferiority of his station. And which of 
 us is there acquainted with the sex that has not remarked this 
 propensity in lovely woman, and how often the wisest in the 
 council are made to be as fools at her board, and the boldest 
 in the battle-field are craven when facing her distaff ? 
 
 " Where you were locked up with the Jewess in the tower" 
 was a remark, too, of which Wilfrid keenly felt, and perhaps 
 the reader will understand, the significancy. When the daugh- 
 ter of Isaac of York brought her diamonds and rubies — the 
 poor, gentle victim ! — and, meekly laying them at the feet of 
 the conquering Rowena, departed into foreign lands to tend 
 the sick of her people, and to brood over the bootless passion 
 which consumed her own pure heart, one would have thought 
 that the heart of the royal lady would have melted before such 
 beauty and humility, and that she would have been generous 
 in the moment of her victory. 
 
 But did you ever know a right-minded woman pardon an- 
 other for being handsome and more love-worthy than herself ? 
 The Lady Rowena did certainly say with mighty magnanimity 
 to the Jewish maiden, " Come and live with me as a sister," as 
 the former part of this history shows ; but Rebecca knew in her 
 heart that her ladyship's proposition was what is called bosh (in 
 that noble Eastern language with which Wilfrid the Crusader 
 was familiar), or fudge, in plain Saxon ; and retired with a 
 broken, gentle spirit, neither able to bear the sight of her 
 rival's happiness, nor willing to disturb it by the contrast to 
 her own wretchedness. Rowena, like the most high-bred and 
 virtuous of women, never forgave Isaac's daughter her beauty, 
 nor her flirtation with Wilfrid (as the Saxon lady chose to 
 term it) ; nor, above all, her admirable diamonds and jewels, 
 although Rowena was actually in possession of them. 
 
 In a word, she was always flinging Rebecca into Ivanhoe's 
 teeth. There was not a day in his life but that unhappy warrior 
 was made to remember that a Hebrew damsel had been in love 
 with him, and that a Christian lady of fashion could never for- 
 give the insult. For instance, if Gurth, the swineherd, who was 
 now promoted to be a gamekeeper and verderer, brought the 
 
274 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 account of a famous wild-boar in the wood, and proposed a 
 hunt, Rowena would say, " Do, Sir Wilfrid, persecute these 
 poor pigs : you know your friends the Jews can't abide them ! " 
 Or when, as it oft would happen, our lion-hearted monarch, 
 Richard, in order to get a loan or a benevolence from the Jews, 
 would roast a few of the Hebrew capitalists, or extract some of 
 the principal rabbis' teeth, Rowena would exult and say, " Serve 
 them right, the misbelieving wretches ! England can never be 
 a happy country until every one of these monsters is extermi- 
 nated ! " — or else, adopting a strain of still more savage sar- 
 casm, would exclaim, " Ivanhoe my dear, more persecution for 
 the Jews ! Hadn't you better interfere, my love ? His Majesty 
 will do anything for you \ and, you know, the Jews were always 
 such favorites of yours" or words to that effect. But, neverthe- 
 less, her ladyship never lost an opportunity of wearing Re- 
 becca's jewels at court, whenever the Queen held a drawing- 
 room; or at the York assizes and ball, when she appeared 
 there : not of course because she took any interest in such 
 things, but because she considered it her duty to attend, as one 
 of the chief ladies of the county. 
 
 Thus Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, having attained the height of 
 his wishes, was, like many a man when he has reached that 
 dangerous elevation, disappointed. Ah, dear friends, it is but 
 too often so in life ! Many a garden, seen from a distance, 
 looks fresh and green, which, when beheld closely, is dismal 
 and weedy ; the shady walks melancholy and grass-grown ; the 
 bowers you would fain repose in, cushioned with stinging-nettles. 
 I have ridden in a caique upon the waters of the Bosphorus, 
 and looked upon the capital of the Soldan of Turkey. As seen 
 from those blue waters, with palace and pinnacle, with gilded 
 dome and towering cypress, it seemeth a very Paradise of 
 Mahound : but, enter the city, and it is but a beggarly labyrinth 
 of rickety huts and dirty alleys, where the ways are steep and 
 the smells are foul, tenanted by mangy dogs and ragged beggars 
 — a dismal illusion ! Life is such, ah, well-a-day ! It is only 
 hope which is real, and reality is a bitterness and a deceit. 
 
 Perhaps a man with Ivanhoe's high principles would never 
 bring himself to acknowledge this fact ; but others did for him. 
 He grew thin, and pined away as much as if he had been in a 
 fever under the scorching sun of Ascalon. He had no appetite 
 for his meals ; he slept ill, though he was yawning all day. The 
 jangling of the doctors and friars whom Rowena brought to- 
 gether did not in the least enliven him, and he would sometimes 
 give proofs of somnolency during their disputes, greatly to the 
 
THE OVERTURE. 
 
 27S 
 
 consternation of his lady. He hunted a good deal, and, I very 
 much fear, as Rowena rightly remarked, that he might have an 
 excuse for being absent from home. He began to like wine, 
 too, who had been as sober as a hermit • and when he came 
 back from Athelstane ? s (whither he would repair not unfre- 
 quently), the unsteadiness of his gait and the unnatural bril- 
 liancy of his eye were remarked by his lady : who, you may be 
 sure, was sitting up for him. As for Athelstane, he swore by 
 St. Wullstan that he was glad to have escaped a marriage with 
 such a pattern of propriety ; and honest Cedric the Saxon (who 
 had been very speedily driven out of his daughter-in-law's 
 castle) vowed by St. Waltheof that his son had bought a dear 
 bargain. 
 
 So Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe became almost as tired of England 
 as his royal master Richard was, (who always quitted the coun- 
 try when he had squeezed from his royal nobles, commons, 
 clergy, and Jews, all the money which he could get,) and when 
 the lion-hearted Prince began to make war against the French 
 King, in Normandy and Guienne, Sir Wilfrid pined like a true 
 servant to be in company of the good champion, alongside of 
 whom he had shivered so many lances, and dealt such woundy 
 blows of sword and battle-axe on the plains of Jaffa or the 
 breaches of Acre. Travellers were welcome at Rotherwood 
 that brought news from the camp of the good King : and I 
 warrant me that the knight listened with all his might when 
 Father Drono, the chaplain, read in the St. James's Chronykyll 
 (which was the paper of news he of Ivanhoe took in) of " another 
 glorious triumph " — " Defeat of the French near Blois "— 
 " Splendid victory at Epte, and narrow escape of the French 
 King:" the which deeds of arms the learned scribes had to 
 narrate. 
 
 However such tales might excite him during the reading, 
 they left the Knight of Ivanhoe only the more melancholy after 
 listening : and the more moody as he sat in his great hall 
 silently draining his Gascony wine. Silently sat he and looked 
 at his coats-of-mail hanging vacant on the wall, his banner 
 covered with spider-webs, and his sword and axe rusting there. 
 "Ah, dear axe," sighed he (into his drinking horn) — "ah, gen- 
 tle steel ! that was a merry time when I sent thee crashing into 
 the pate of the Emir Abdul Melik as he rode on the right of 
 Saladin. Ah, my sword, my dainty headsman ! my sweet split- 
 rib ! my razor of infidel beards ! is the rust to eat thine edge off, 
 and am I never more to wield thee in battle ? What is the use 
 of a shield on a wall, or a lance that has a cobweb for a pennon ? 
 
276 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 O Richard, my good king, would I could hear once more thy 
 voice in the front of the onset ! Bones of Brian the Templar ! 
 would ye could rise from your grave at Templestowe, and that 
 we might break another spear for honor and — and " * * * 
 
 "And Rebecca" he would have said ; but the knight paused 
 here in rather a guilty panic : and her Royal Highness the 
 Princess Rowena (as she chose to style herself at home) looked 
 so hard at him out of her china-blue eyes, that Sir Wilfrid felt 
 as if she was reading his thoughts, and was fain to drop his 
 own eyes into his flagon. 
 
 In a word, his life was intolerable. The dinner-hour of the 
 twelfth century, it is known, was very early ; in fact, people 
 dined at ten o'clock in the morning : and after dinner Rowena 
 sat mum under her canopy, embroidered with the arms of 
 Edward the Confessor, working with her maidens at the most 
 hideous pieces of tapestry, representing the tortures and martyr- 
 doms of her favorite saints, and not allowing a soul to speak 
 above his breath, except when she chose to cry out in her own 
 shrill voice when a # handmaid made a wrong stitch, or let fall a 
 ball of worsted. It was a dreary life. Wamba, we have said, 
 never ventured to crack a joke, save in a whisper, when he was 
 ten miles from home ; and then Sir Wilfrid Ivanhoe was too 
 weary and blue-devilled to laugh ; but hunted in silence, moodily 
 bringing down deer and wild-boar with shaft and quarrel. 
 
 Then he besought Robin of Huntingdon, the jolly outlaw, 
 nathless, to join him, and go to the help of their fair sire King 
 Richard, with a score or two of lances. But the Earl of Hunt- 
 ingdon was a very different character from Robin Hood the 
 forester. There was no more conscientious magistrate in all 
 the county than his lordship : he was never known to miss 
 church or quarter-sessions ; he was the strictest game-proprietor 
 in all the Riding, and sent scores of poachers to Botany Bay. 
 "A man who has a stake in the country, my good Sir Wilfrid," 
 Lord Huntingdon said, with rather a patronizing air (his lord- 
 ship had grown immensely fat since the King had taken him 
 into grace, and required a horse as strong as an elephant to 
 mount him) — " a man with a stake in the country ought to stay 
 in the country. Property has its duties as well as its privileges, 
 and a person of my rank is bound to live on the land from which 
 he gets his living." 
 
 " Amen ! " sang out the Reverend Tuck, his lordship's 
 
 domestic chaplain, who had also grown as sleek as the Abbot 
 of Jorvaulx, who was as prim as a lady in his dress, wore ber- 
 gamot in his handkerchief, and had his poll shaved and his 
 
THE OVERTURE, 
 
 277 
 
 beard curled every day. And so sanctified was his Reverence 
 grown, that he thought it was a shame to kill the pretty deer, 
 (though he ate of them still hugely, both in pasties and with 
 French beans and currant-jelly,) and being shown a quarter- 
 staff upon a certain occasion, handled it curiously, and asked 
 ' what that ugly great stick was ? ? 
 
 Lady Huntingdon, late Maid Marian, had still some of her 
 old fun and spirits, and poor Ivanhoe begged and prayed that 
 she would come and stay at Rotherwood occasionally, and 
 egayer the general dulness of that castle. But her ladyship said 
 that Rowena gave herself such airs, and bored her so intolera- 
 bly with stories of King Edward the Confessor, that she pre- 
 ferred any place rather than Rotherwood, which was as dull as 
 if it had been at the top of Mount Athos. 
 
 The only person who visited it was Athelstane. " His 
 Royal Highness the Prince" Rowena of course called him, whom 
 the lady received with royal honors. She had the guns fired, 
 and the footmen turned out with presented arms when he 
 arrived • helped him to all Ivanhoe's favorite cuts of the mutton 
 or the turkey, and forced her poor husband to light him to the 
 state bedroom, walking backwards, holding a pair of wax-candles. 
 At this hour of bed-time the Thane used to be in such a condi- 
 tion, that he saw two pairs of candles and two Ivanhoes reeling 
 before him. Let us hope it was not Ivanhoe that was reeling, 
 but only his kinsman's brains muddled with the quantities of 
 drink which it was his daily custom to consume. Rowena said 
 it was the crack which the wicked Bois Guilbert, " the Jewess's 
 other lover, Wilfrid my dear," gave him on his royal skull, which 
 caused the Prince to be disturbed so easily ; but added, that 
 drinking became a person of royal blood, and was but one of 
 the duties of his station. 
 
 Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe saw it would be of no avail to ask 
 this man to bear him company on his projected tour abroad ; 
 but still he himself was every day more and more bent upon 
 going, and he long cast about for some means of breaking to 
 his Rowena his firm resolution to join the King. He thought 
 she would certainly fall ill if he communicated the news too ab- 
 ruptly to her : he would pretend a journey to York to attend a 
 grand jury ; then a call to London on law business or to buy 
 stock ; then he would slip over to Calais by the packet, by de- 
 grees as it were ; and so be with the King before his wife knew 
 that he was out of sight of Westminster Hall. 1 
 
 " Suppose your honor says you are going as your honor 
 would say Bo ! to a goose, plump, short, and to the point," said 
 
2 7 8 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 Wamba the Jester — who was Sir Wilfrid's chief counsellor and 
 attendant — " depend on't her Highness would bear the news 
 like a Christian woman." 
 
 " Tush, malapert ! I will give thee the strap," said Sir 
 Wilfrid, in a fine tone of high-tragedy indignation. "Thou 
 knowest not the delicacy of the nerves of high-born ladies. An 
 she faint not, write me down Hollander." 
 
 " I will wager my bauble against an Irish billet of exchange 
 that she will let your honor go off readily : that is, if you press 
 not the matter too strongly," Wamba answered, knowingly. 
 And this Ivanhoe found to his discomfiture : for one morning: at 
 breakfast, adopting a degage air, as he sipped his tea, he said, 
 " My love, I was thinking of going over to pay his Majesty a 
 visit in Normandy." Upon which, laying down her muffin, 
 (which, since the royal Alfred baked those cakes, had been the 
 chosen breakfast cate of noble Anglo-Saxons, and which a 
 kneeling page tendered to her on a salver, chased by the Flor- 
 entine, Benvenuto Cellini,) — " When do you think of going, 
 Wilfrid my dear ? " the lady said ; and the moment the tea-things 
 were removed, and the tables and their trestles put away, she 
 set about mending his linen, and getting ready his carpet-bag. 
 
 So Sir Wilfrid was as disgusted at her readiness to part with 
 him as he had been weary of staying at home, which caused 
 Wamba the Fool to say, " Marry, gossip, thou art like the man 
 on ship board, who, when the boatswain flogged him, did cry 
 out S Oh ! ' wherever the rope's-end fell on him : which caused 
 Master Boatswain to say, ' Plague on thee, fellow, and a pize 
 on thee, knave, wherever I hit thee there is no pleasing thee.' " 
 
 " And truly there are some backs which Fortune is always 
 belaboring," thought Sir Wilfrid with a groan, " and mine is 
 one that is ever sore." 
 
 So, with a moderate retinue, whereof the knave Wamba 
 made one, and a large woollen comforter round his neck, which 
 nis wife's own white fingers had woven, Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe 
 left home to join the King his master. Rowena, standing on 
 the steps, poured out a series of prayers and blessings, most 
 edifying to hear, as her lord mounted his charger, which his 
 squires led to the door. " It was the duty of the British female 
 of rank," she said, " to suffer all — all in the cause of her sov- 
 ereign. She would not fear loneliness during the campaign : 
 she would bear up against widowhood, desertion, and an un- 
 protected situation." 
 
 " My cousin Athelstane will protect thee," said Ivanhoe, 
 with profound emotion, as the tears trickled down his basenet \ 
 
THE OVERTURE. 
 
 279 
 
 and bestowing a chaste salute upon the steel-clad warrior, 
 Rowena modestly said 4 she hoped his Highness would be so 
 kind.' 
 
 Then Ivanhoe's trumpet blew : then Rowena waved .her 
 pocket-handkerchief : then the household gave a shout : then 
 the pursuivant of the good Knight, Sir Wilfrid the Crusader, 
 flung out his banner (which was argent, a gules cramoisy with 
 three Moors impaled sable) : then Wamba gave a lash on his 
 mule's haunch, and Ivanhoe, heaving a great sigh, turned the 
 tail of his war-horse upon the castle of his fathers. 
 
 As they rode along the forest, they met Athelstane the 
 Thane powdering along the road in the direction of Rotherwood 
 on his great dray-horse of a charger. " Good-by, good luck to 
 you, old brick," cried the Prince, using the vernacular Saxon. 
 " Pitch into those Frenchmen ; give it 'em over the face and 
 eyes ; and I'll stop at home and take care of Mrs. I." 
 
 "Thank you, kinsman," said Ivanhoe — looking, however, 
 not particularly well-pleased ; and the chiefs shaking hands, 
 the train of each took its different way — Athelstane's to Rother- 
 wood, Ivanhoe's towards his place of embarkation. 
 
 The poor knight had his wish, and yet his face was a yard 
 long and as yellow as a lawyer's parchment ; and having longed 
 to quit home any time these three years past, he found himself 
 envying Athelstane, because, forsooth, he was going to Rother- 
 wood : which symptoms of discontent being observed by the 
 witless Wamba, caused that absurd madman to bring his rebeck 
 over his shoulder from his back, and to sing — 
 
 " ATRA CURA.. 
 
 " Before I lost my five poor wits, 
 I mind me of a Romish clerk, 
 Who sang how Care, the phantom dark, 
 Beside the belted horseman sits. 
 Methought I saw the grisly sprite 
 Jump up but now behind my Knight." 
 
 " Perhaps thou didst, knave," said Ivanhoe, looking over his 
 shoulder ; and the knave went on with his jingle : 
 
 " And though he gallop as he may, 
 I mark that cursed monster black 
 Still sits behind his honor's back, 
 Tight squeezing of his heart alway. 
 Like two black Templars sit they there, 
 Beside one crupper, Knight and Care. 
 
 " No knight am I with pennoned spear, 
 To prance upon a bold destrere : 
 I will not have black Care prevail 
 Upon my long-eared charger's tail, 
 For lo, I am a witless fool 
 And laugh at Grief and ride a mule." 
 
28o 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 T 
 
 And his bells rattled as he kicked his mule's sides. 
 
 " Silence, fool ! " said Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, in a voice both 
 majestic and wrathful. " If thou knowest not care and grief, it 
 is because thou knowest not love, whereof they are the com- 
 panions. Who can love without an anxious 'heart ? " How 
 shall there be joy at meeting, without tears at parting ? " (" I 
 did not see that his honor or my lady shed many anon," thought 
 Wamba the Fool ; but he was only a zany, and his mind was 
 not right.) " I would not exchange my very sorrows for thine 
 indifference," the knight continued. " Where there is a sun, 
 there must be a shadow. If the shadow offend me, shall I put 
 out my eyes and live in the dark ? No ! I am content with 
 my fate, even such as it is. The Care of which thou speakest, 
 hard though it may vex him, never yet rode down an honest 
 man. I can bear him on my shoulders, and make my way 
 through the world's press in spite of him ; for my arm is strong 
 and my sword is keen, and my shield has no stain on it ; and 
 my heart, though it is sad, knows no guile." And here, taking 
 a locket out of his waistcoat (which was made of chain-mail), 
 the knight kissed the token, put it back under the waistcoat 
 again, heaved a profound sigh, and stuck spurs into his horse. 
 
 As for Wamba, he was munching a black pudding whilst 
 Sir Wilfrid was making the above speech, (which implied some 
 secret grief on the knight's part, that must have been perfectly 
 unintelligible to the fool,) and so did not listen to a single word 
 of Ivanhoe's pompous remarks. They travelled on by slow 
 stages through the whole kingdom, until they came to Dover, 
 whence they took shipping for Calais. And in this little voyage, 
 being exeedingly sea-sick, and besides elated at the thought of 
 meeting his sovereign, the good knight cast away that profound 
 melancholy which had accompanied him during the whale of 
 his land journey. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 THE LAST DAYS OF THE LION. 
 
 From Calais Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe took the diligence 
 across country to Limoges, sending on Gurth, his squire, with 
 the horses and the rest of his attendants ; with the exception 
 of Wamba, who travelled not only as the knight's fool, but as 
 
.THE LAST DA YS OF THE LION, 
 
 281 
 
 his valet, and who, perched on the roof of the carriage, amused 
 himself by blowing tunes upon the conducteur's French horn. 
 The good King Richard was, as Ivanhoe learned, in the 
 Limousin, encamped before a little place called Chalus ; the 
 lord whereof, though a vassal of the King's, was holding the 
 castle against his sovereign with a resolution and valor which 
 caused a great fury and annoyance on the part of the Monarch 
 with the Lion Heart. For brave and magnanimous as he 
 was, the Lion-hearted one did not love to be baulked any more 
 than another ; and, like the royal animal whom he was said to 
 resemble, he commonly tore his adversary to pieces, and then, 
 perchance, had leisure to think how brave the latter had been. 
 The Count of Chalus had found, it was said, a pot of money ; 
 the Royal Richard wanted it. As the count denied that he 
 had it, why did he not open the gates of his castle at once ? It 
 was a clear proof that he was guilty ; and the King was deter- 
 mined to punish this rebel, and have his money and his life 
 too. 
 
 He had naturally brought no breaching guns with him, 
 because those instruments were not yet invented ; and though 
 he had assaulted the place a score of times with the utmost 
 fury, his Majesty had been beaten back on every occasion, 
 until he was so savage that it was dangerous to approach the 
 British Lion. The Lion's wife, the lovely Berengaria, scarcely 
 ventured to come near him. He flung the joint-stools in his 
 tent at the heads of the officers of state, and kicked his aides- 
 de-camp round his pavilion ; and, in fact, a maid of honor, who 
 brought a sack-posset in to his Majesty from the Queen, after 
 he came in from the assault, came spinning like a football 
 out of the royal tent just as Ivanhoe entered it. 
 
 " Send me my drum-major to flog that woman ! " roared out 
 the infuriate King. " By the bones of St. Barnabas she has 
 burned the sack ! By St. Wittikind, I will have her flayed alive. 
 Ha, St. George ! ha, St. Richard! whom have we here?" And 
 he lifted up his demi-culverin, orcurtal-axe — a weapon weighing 
 about thirteen hundredweight — and was about to fling it at the 
 intruder's head, when the latter, kneeling gracefully on one 
 knee, said calmly, " It is I, my good liege, Wilfrid of Ivanhoe." 
 
 " What, Wilfrid of Templestowe, Wilfrid the married man, 
 Wilfrid the henpecked ! " cried the King with a sudden burst of 
 good-humor, flinging away the culverin from him, as though it 
 had been a reed (it lighted three hundred yards off, on the foot 
 of Hugo de Bunyon, who was smoking a cigar at the door of 
 his tent, and caused that redoubted warrior to limp for some 
 
282 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 days after). " What, Wilfrid my gossip ? Art come to see the 
 lion's den ? There are bones in it, man, bones and carcases, 
 and the lion is angry," said the King, with a terrific glare of his 
 eyes. " But tush ! we will talk of that anon. Ho ! bring two 
 gallons of hypocras for the King and the good Knight, Wilfrid 
 of Ivanhoe. Thou art come in time, Wilfrid, for, by St. Richard 
 and St. George, we will give a grand assault to-morrow. There 
 will be bones broken, ha ! " 
 
 " I care not, my liege," said Ivanhoe, pledging the sovereign 
 respectfully, and tossing off the whole contents of the bowl of 
 hypocras to his Highness's good health. And he at once 
 appeared to be taken into high favor ; not a little to the envy 
 of many of the persons surrounding the King. 
 
 As his Majesty said, there was fighting and feasting in plenty 
 before Chalus. Day after day, the besiegers made assaults 
 upon the castle, but it was held so stoutly by the Count of 
 Chalus and his gallant garrison, that each afternoon beheld the 
 attacking parties returning disconsolately to their tents, leaving 
 behind them many of their own slain, and bringing back with 
 them store of broken heads and maimed limbs, received in the 
 unsuccessful onset. The valor displayed by Ivanhoe in all 
 these contests was prodigious ; and the way in which he escaped 
 death from the discharges of mangonels, catapults, battering- 
 rams, twenty-four-pounders, boiling oil, and other artillery, with 
 which the besieged received their enemies, was remarkable. 
 After a day's fighting, Gurth and Wamba used to pick the 
 arrows out of their intrepid master's coat-of-mail, as if they had 
 been so many almonds in a pudding. 'Twas well for the good 
 knight, that under his first coat-of-armor he wore a choice suit 
 of Toledan steel, perfectly impervious to arrow-shots, and given 
 to him by a certain Jew, named Isaac of York, to whom he had 
 done some considerable services a few years back. 
 
 If King Richard had not been in such a rage at the repeated 
 f rehires of his attacks upon the castle, that all sense of justice 
 was blinded in the lion-hearted monarch, he would have been 
 the first to acknowledge the valor of Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, 
 and would have given him a Peerage and the Grand Cross of 
 the Bath at least a dozen times in the course of the siege : for 
 Ivanhoe led more than a dozen storming-parties, and with his 
 own hand killed as many men (viz. : two thousand three hun- 
 dred and fifty-one) within six, as were slain by the lion-hearted 
 monarch himself. But his Majesty was rather disgusted than 
 pleased by his faithful servant's prowess ; and all the courtiers, 
 who hated Ivanhoe for his superior valor and dexterity (for he 
 
THE LAST DA YS OF THE LION, 
 
 would kill you off a couple of hundred of them of Chalus, whilst 
 the strongest champions of the King's host could not finish 
 more than their two dozen of a day), poisoned the royal mind 
 against Sir Wilfrid, and made the King look upon his feats of 
 arms with an evil eye. Roger de Backbite sneeringly told the 
 King that Sir Wilfrid had offered to bet an equal bet that he 
 would kill more men than Richard himself in the next assault : 
 Peter de Toadhole said that Ivanhoe stated everywhere, that 
 his Majesty was not the man he used to be • that pleasures and 
 drink had enervated him ; that he could neither ride, nor strike 
 a blow with sword or axe, as he had been enabled to do in the 
 old times in Palestine : and finally, in the twenty-fifth assault, 
 in which they had very nearly carried the place, and in which 
 onset Ivanhoe slew seven, and his Majesty six, of the sons of 
 the Count de Chalus, its defender, Ivanhoe almost did for him- 
 self, by planting his banner before the King's upon the wall ; 
 and only rescued himself from utter disgrace by saving his 
 Majesty's life several times in the course of this most desperate 
 onslaught. 
 
 Then the luckless knight's very virtues (as, no doubt, my 
 respected readers know) made him enemies amongst the men — 
 nor was Ivanhoe liked by the women frequenting the camp of 
 the gay King Richard. His young Queen, and a brilliant court 
 of ladies, attended the pleasure-loving monarch. His Majesty 
 would transact business in the morning, then fight severely from 
 after breakfast till about three o'clock in the afternoon ; from 
 which time, until after midnight, there was nothing but jigging 
 and singing, feasting and revelry, in the royal tents. Ivanhoe, 
 who was asked as a matter of ceremony, and forced to attend 
 these entertainments, not caring about the blandishments of 
 any of the ladies present, looked on at their ogling and dancing 
 with a countenance as glum as an undertaker's, and was a per- 
 fect wet-blanket in the midst of the festivities. His favorite 
 resort and conversation were with a remarkably austere herir'it, 
 who lived in the neighborhood of Chalus, and with whom Ivan- 
 hoe loved to talk about Palestine, and the Jews, and other grave 
 matters of import, better than to mingle in the gayest amuse- 
 ments of the court of King Richard. Many a night, when the 
 Queen and the ladies were dancing quadrilles and polkas, (in 
 which his Majesty, who was enormously stout as well as tall, 
 insisted upon figuring, and in which he was about as graceful 
 as an elephant dancing a hornpipe,) Ivanhoe would steal away 
 from the ball, and come and have a night's chat under the moon 
 with his reverend friend. It pained him to see a man of the 
 
284 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 King's age and size dancing about with the young folks. They 
 laughed at his Majesty whilst they flattered him : the pages and 
 maids of honor mimicked the royal mountebank almost to his 
 face ; and, if Ivanhoe ever could have laughed, he certainly 
 would one night, when the King, in light-blue satin inexpres- 
 sibles, with his hair in powder, chose to dance the minuet de la 
 cour with the little Queen Berengaria. * 
 
 Then, after dancing, his Majesty must needs order a guitar, 
 and begin to sing. He was said to compose his own songs — 
 words and music — but those who have read Lord Campobello's 
 " Lives of the Lord Chancellors," are aware that there was a 
 person by the name of Blondel, who, in fact, did all the musical 
 part of the King's performances ; and as for the words, when a 
 king writes verses, we may be sure there will be plenty of 
 people to admire his poetry. His Majesty would sing you a 
 ballad, of which he had stolen every idea, to an air that was 
 ringing on all the barrel-organs of Christendom, and, turning , 
 round to his courtiers, would say, " How do you like that ? I 
 dashed it off this morning." Or, " Blondel, what do you think 
 of this movement in B flat ? " or what not ; and the courtiers 
 and Blondel, you may be sure, would applaud with all their 
 might, like hypocrites as they were. 
 
 One evening — it was the evening of the 27th March, 1199, 
 indeed — his Majesty, who was in the musical mood, treated the 
 court with a quantity of his so-called composition, until the 
 people were fairly tired of clapping with their hands and laugh- 
 ing in their sleeves. First he sang an original air and poem, 
 beginning 
 
 " Cherries nice, cherries nice, nice, come choose, 
 Fresh and fair ones, who'll refuse ? " &c. 
 
 The which he was ready to take his affidavit he had com- 
 posed the day before yesterday. Then he sang an equally 
 original heroic melody, of which the chorus was 
 
 " Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the sea, 
 
 For Britons never, never, never slaves shall be," &c. 
 
 The courtiers applauded this song as they did the other, all 
 except Ivanhoe, who sat without changing a muscle of his fea- 
 tures, until the King questioned him, when the knight with a 
 bow said ' he thought he had heard something very like the air 
 and the words elsewhere.' His Majesty scowled at him a 
 savage glance from under his red bushy eyebrows ; but Ivan- 
 hoe had saved the royal life that day, and the King, therefore, 
 with difficulty controlled his indignation. 
 
THE LAST DA YS OF THE LION. 
 
 "Well/' said he, "by St. Richard and St. George, but ye 
 never heard this song, for I composed it this very afternoon as 
 I took my bath after the melee. Did I not, Blondel ? " 
 
 Blondel, of course, was ready to take an affidavit that his 
 Majesty had done as he said, and the King, thrumming on his 
 guitar with his great red fingers and thumbs, began to sing out 
 of tune, and as follows : — 
 
 « COMMANDERS OF THE FAITHFUL. 
 
 * l The Pope he is a happy man, 
 His Palace is the Vatican, 
 And there he sits and drains his can : 
 The Pope he is a happy man. 
 I often say when I'm at home, 
 I'd like to be the Pope of Rome. 
 
 *' And then there's Sultan Saladin, 
 That Turkish Soldan full of sin ; 
 He has a hundred wives at least, 
 By which his pleasure is increased : 
 I've often wished, I hope no sin, 
 That I were Sultan Saladin. 
 
 " But no, the Pope no wife may choose, 
 And so I would not wear his shoes ; 
 No wine may drink the proud Paynim, 
 And so I'd rather not be him : 
 My wife, my wine, I love I hope, 
 And would be neither Turk nor Pope." 
 
 " Encore ! Encore ! Bravo ! Bis ! ! " Everybody applauded 
 the King's song with all his might : everybody except Ivanhoe, 
 who preserved his abominable gravity ; and when asked aloud 
 . by Roger de Backbite whether he had heard that too, said 
 firmly, " Yes, Roger de Backbite ; and so hast thou if thou 
 darest but tell the truth." 
 
 " Now, by St. Cicely, may I never touch gittern again/' 
 bawled the King in a fury, " if every note, word, and thought 
 be not mine ; may I die in to-morrow's onslaught if the song 
 be not my song. Sing thyself, Wilfrid of the Lanthorn Jaws ; 
 thou could'st sing a good song in old times." And with all his 
 might, and with a forced laugh, the King, who loved brutal 
 practical jests, flung his guitar at the head of Ivanhoe. 
 
 Sir Wilfrid caught it gracefully with one hand, and making 
 an elegant bow to the sovereign, began to chant as follows : — 
 
 "KING CANUTE. 
 
 " King Canute was weary-hearted ; he had reigned for years a score, 
 Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more ; 
 And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild sea-shore. 
 
 " 'Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with sleps sedate, 
 Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and goldsticks great, 
 Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages, — all the officers of state. 
 
 J 9 
 
REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 44 Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause, 
 
 If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped their jaws ; 
 
 If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws. 
 
 44 But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and young : 
 Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favorite gleemen sung, 
 Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold her tongue. 
 
 " 4 Something ails my gracious master,' cried the Keeper of the Seal. 
 
 4 Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner, or the veal ? ' 
 
 * Psha ! ' exclaimed the angry monarch. ' Keeper, 'tis not that I feel. 
 
 44 4 'Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest impair : 
 
 Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know no care ? 
 
 Oh, I'm sick, and tired, and weary.' — Some one cried, 4 The King's arm-chair! 
 
 44 Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the Keeper nodded, 
 Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by two footmen able-bodied ; 
 Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably wadded. 
 
 " ' Leading on my fierce companions,' cried he, 4 over storm and brine, 
 I have fought and I have conquered ! Where was glory like to mine ? ' 
 Loudly all the courtiers echoed : 4 Where is glory like to thine ? ' 
 
 44 * What avail me all my kingdoms? Weary am I now, and old ; 
 Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead and cold ; 
 Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent mould! 
 
 " 4 Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent! at my bosom tears and bites ; 
 Horrid,, horrid things I look on, though I put out all the lights ; 
 Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed of nights. 
 
 " 4 Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious fires ; 
 Mothers weeping, virgins screaming, vainly for their slaughtered sires.'-^* 
 ' * Such a tender conscience,' cries the Bishop, 4 every one admires. 
 
 " * But for such unpleasant by-gones, cease, my gracious lord, to search, 
 They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy Mother Church ; 
 Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the lurch. 
 
 44 4 Look! the land is crowned with minsters, which your Grace's bounty raised 
 Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are daily praised : 
 You, my lord, to think of dying ? on my conscience I'm amazed ! ' 
 
 44 4 Nay, I feel,' replied King Canute, 4 that my end is drawing near.' 
 'Don't say so,' exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze a tear), 
 *Sure your grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty year.' 
 
 44 4 Live these fifty years ! ' the Bishop roared, with actions made to suit. 
 4 Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of King Canute ! 
 Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty will do't. 
 
 44 4 Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahaleel, Methusela, 
 
 Lived nine hundred years apiece, and mayn't the King as well as they ? ' 
 
 4 Fervently,' exclaimed the Keeper, 4 fervently I trust he may.' 
 
 44 4 He to die ? ' resumed the Bishop. 4 He a mortal like to us ? 
 Death was not for him intended, though communis omnibus : 
 Keeper, are you irreligious, for to talk and cavil thus. 
 
 44 * With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete, 
 Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their feet ; 
 Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness think it meet. 
 
 44 4 Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill, 
 And, the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver moon stand still ? 
 So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will.' 
 
 44 4 Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop?' Canute cried ,* 
 4 Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride ? 
 If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the tide. 
 
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 
 
 287 
 
 " 4 Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign ?' 
 Said the Bishop, bowing lowly, 1 Land and sea, my lord, are thine.' 
 Canute turned towards the ocean — < Back ! ' he said, ' thou foaming brine. 
 
 From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat ; 
 Venture not, thou stormy rebel,, to approach thy master's seat : 
 Ocean, be thou still ! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet ! ' 
 
 " But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar, 
 And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on the shore ; 
 Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the King and courtiers bore. 
 
 " And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay, 
 But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey : 
 And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day. 
 King Canute is dead and gone : Parasites exist alway." 
 
 At this ballad, which, to be sure, was awfully long, and as 
 grave as a sermon, some of the courtiers tittered, some yawned, 
 and some affected to be asleep and snore outright. But Roger 
 de Backbite thinking to curry favor with the King by this 
 piece of vulgarity, his Majesty fetched him a knock on the 
 nose and a buffet on the ear, which, I warrant me, wakened 
 Master Roger ; to whom the King said, " Listen and be civil, 
 slave ; Wilfrid is singing about thee. — Wilfrid, thy ballad is 
 long, but it is to the purpose, and I have grown cool during 
 thy homily. Give me thy hand, honest friend. Ladies, good- 
 night. Gentlemen, we give the grand assault to-morrow ; 
 when I promise thee, Wilfrid, thy banner shall not be before 
 mine." — And the King, giving his arm to her Majesty, retired 
 into the private pavilion. 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 
 
 Whilst the royal Richard and his court were feasting in 
 the camp outside the walls of Chalus, they of the castle were 
 in the most miserable plight that may be conceived. Hunger, 
 as well as the fierce assaults of the besiegers, had made dire 
 ravages in the place. The garrison's provisions of corn and 
 cattle, their very horses, dogs, and donkeys had been eaten up 
 — so that it might well be said by Wamba "that famine, as 
 well as slaughter, had thinned the garrison." When the men 
 of Chalus came on the walls to defend it against the scaling- 
 parties of King Richard, they were like so many skeletons in 
 
2 88 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 i 
 
 armor ; they could hardly pull their bow-strings at last, ol 
 pitch down stones on the heads of his Majesty's party, so weak 
 had their arms become ; and the gigantic Count of Chalus — a 
 warrior as redoubtable for his size and strength as Richard 
 Plantagenet himself — was scarcely able to lift up his battle-axe 
 upon the day of that last assault, when Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe 
 ran him through the but we are advancing matters. 
 
 What should prevent me from describing the agonies of 
 hunger which the Count (a man of large appetite) suffered in 
 company with his heroic sons and garrison ? — Nothing, but 
 that Dante has already done the business in the notorious his- 
 tory of Count Ugolino ; so that my efforts might be considered 
 as mere imitations. Why should I not, if I were minded to 
 revel in horrifying details, show you how the famished garrison 
 drew lots, and ate themselves during the siege • and how the 
 unlucky lot falling upon the Countess of Chalus, that heroic 
 woman, taking an affectionate leave of her family, caused her 
 large cauldron in the castle kitchen to be set a-boiling, had 
 onions, carrots and herbs, pepper and salt made ready, to make 
 a savory soup, as the French like it; and when all things 
 were quite completed, kissed her children, jumped into the 
 cauldron from off a kitchen stool, and so was stewed down in 
 her flannel bedgown ? Dear friends, it is not from want of 
 imagination, or from having no turn for the terrible or pathetic, 
 that I spare you these details. I could give you some descrip- 
 tion that would &poil your dinner and night's rest, and make 
 your hair stand on end. But why harrow your feelings ? Fancy 
 / all the tortures and horrors that possibly can occur in a be- 
 leaguered and famished castle : fancy the feelings of men who 
 know that no more quarter will be given them than they would 
 get if they were peaceful Hungarian citizens kidnapped and 
 brought to trial by his Majesty the Emperor of Austria ; and 
 then let us rush on to the breach and prepare once more to 
 meet the assault of dreadful King Richard and his men. 
 
 On the 29th of March in the year 1199, the good King, 
 having copiously partaken of breakfast, caused his trumpets to 
 blow, and advanced with his host upon the breach of the castle 
 of Chalus. Arthur de Pendennis bore his banner ; Wilfrid of 
 Ivanhoe fought on the King's right hand. Molyneux, Bishop 
 of Bullocksmithy, doffed crozier and mitre for that day, and 
 though fat and pursy, panted up the breach with the most 
 resolute spirit, roaring out war-cries and curses, and wielding a 
 prodigious mace of iron, with which he did good execution. 
 Roger de Backbite was forced to come in attendance upon the 
 
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 
 
 289 
 
 sovereign, but took care to keep in the rear of his august mas- 
 ter, and to shelter behind his huge triangular shield as much 
 as possible. Many lords of note followed the King and bore 
 the ladders ; and as they were placed against the wall, the air 
 was perfectly dark with the shower of arrows which the French, 
 archers poured out at the besiegers, and the cataract of stones, 
 kettles, bootjacks, chests of drawers, crockery, umbrellas, con- 
 greve-rockets, bombshells, bolts and arrows and other missiles 
 which the desperate garrison flung out on the storming-party. 
 The King received a copper coal-scuttle right over his eyes, 
 and a mahogany wardrobe was discharged at his morion, which 
 would have felled an ox, and would have done for the King 
 had not Ivanhoe warded it off skilfully. Still they advanced, 
 the warriors falling around them like grass beneath the scythe 
 of the mower. 
 
 The ladders were placed in spite of the hail of death rain- 
 ing round : the king and Ivanhoe were, of course, the first to 
 mount them. Chalus stood in the breach, borrowing strength 
 from despair ; and roaring out, " Ha ! Plantagenet, Sainte 
 Barbacue for Chalus ! " he dealt the King a crack across the 
 helmet with his battle-axe, which shore off the gilt lion and - 
 crown that surmounted the steel cap. The King bent and 
 reeled back ; the beseigers were dismayed ; the garrison and 
 the Count of Chalus set up a shout of triumph : but it was pre- 
 mature. 
 
 As quick as thought Ivanhoe was into the Count with a 
 thrust in tierce, which took him just at the joint of the armor, 
 and ran him through as clean as a spit does a partridge. 
 Uttering a horrid shriek, he fell back writhing; the King 
 recovering staggered up the parapet ; the rush of knights fol- 
 lowed, and -the union-jack was planted triumphantly on the 
 walls, just as Ivanhoe, — but we must leave him for a moment. 
 
 " Ha, St. Richard ! — ha, St. George ! " the tremendous voice 
 of the Lion-king was heard over the loudest roar of the onset. 
 At every sweep of his blade a severed head flew over the para- 
 pet, a spouting trunk tumbled, bleeding, on the flags of the 
 bartizan. The world hath never seen a warrior equal to that 
 Lion-hearted Plantagenet, as he raged over the keep, his eyes 
 flashing fire through the bars of his morion, snorting and chaf- 
 ing with the hot lust of battle. One by one les enfans de Chalus 
 had fallen : there was only one left at last of all the brave race 
 that had fought round the gallant Count : — only one, and but a 
 boy, a fair-haired boy, a blue-eyed boy ! he had been gathering 
 pansies in the fields but yesterday — it was but a few years, and 
 
290 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 he was a baby in his mother's arms ! What could his puny 
 sword do against the most redoubted blade in Christendom ? — 
 and yet Bohemond faced the great champion of England, and 
 met him foot to foot ! Turn away, turn away, my dear young 
 friends and kind-hearted ladies ! Do not look at that ill-fated 
 poor boy ! his blade is crushed into splinters under the axe of 
 the conqueror, and the poor child is beaten to his knee ! * # * 
 
 " Now, by St. Barbacue of Limoges," said Bertrand de 
 Gourdon, " the butcher will never strike down yonder lambling ! 
 Hold thy hand, Sir King, or, by St. Barbacue " 
 
 Swift as thought the veteran archer raised his arblast to his 
 shoulder, the whizzing bolt fled from the ringing string, and the 
 next moment crashed quivering into the corselet of Plantagenet. 
 
 'Twas a luckless shot, Bertrand of Gourdon ! Maddened by 
 the pain of the wound, the brute nature of Richard was aroused : 
 his fiendish appetite for blood rose to madness, and grinding 
 his teeth, and with a curse too horrible to mention, the flashing 
 axe of the royal butcher fell down on the blonde ringlets of the 
 child, and the children of Chalus were no more ! * * * * 
 
 I just throw this off by way of description, and to show 
 what might be done if I chose to indulge in this style of compo- 
 sition ; but as in the battles which are described by the kindly 
 chronicler, of one of whose works this present masterpiece is 
 professedly a continuation, everything passes off agreeably — the 
 people are slain, but without any unpleasant sensation to the 
 reader ; nay, some of the most savage and blood-stained 
 characters of history, such is the indomitable good-humor of 
 the great novelist, become amiable, jovial companions, for 
 whom one has a hearty sympathy — so, if you please, we will 
 have this fighting business at Chalus, and the garrison and 
 honest Bertrand of Gourdon, disposed of ; the former, accord- 
 to the usage of the good old times, having been hung up or 
 murdered to a man, and the latter killed in the manner 
 described by the late Dr. Goldsmith in his History. 
 
 As for the Lion-hearted, we all very well know that the 
 shaft of Bertrand de Gourdon put an end to the royal hero — 
 and that from that 29th of March he never robbed nor mur- 
 dered any more. And we have legends in recondite books of 
 the manner of the King's death. 
 
 " You must die, my son," said the venerable Walter of 
 Rouen, as Berengaria was carried shrieking from the King's 
 tent. " Repent Sir King, and separate yourself from your 
 children ! " 
 
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 
 
 291 
 
 " It is ill jesting with a dying man," replied the King. 
 " Children have I none, my good lord bishop, to inherit after 
 me." 
 
 " Richard of England," said the archbishop, turning up his 
 fine eyes, " your vices are your children. Ambition is your 
 eldest child, Cruelty is your second child, Luxury is your third 
 child ; and you have nourished them from your youth up. 
 Separate yourself from these sinful ones, and prepare your soul, 
 for the hour' of departure draweth nigh." 
 
 Violent, wicked, sinful, as he might have been, Richard of 
 England met his death like a Christian man. Peace be to the 
 soul of the brave ! When the news came to King Philip of 
 France, he sternly forbade his courtiers to rejoice at the death 
 of his enemy. "It is no matter of joy but of dolour," he said, 
 " that the bulwark of Christendom and the bravest king of 
 Europe is no more." 
 
 Meanwhile what has become of Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, 
 whom we left in the act of rescuing his sovereign by running 
 the Count of Chalus through the body ? 
 
 As the good knight stooped down to pick his sword out of 
 the corpse of his fallen foe, some one coming behind him sud- 
 denly thrust a dagger into his back at a place where his shirt- 
 of-mail was open (for Sir Wilfrid had armed that morning in a 
 hurry, and it was his breast, not his back, that he was accus- 
 tomed ordinarily to protect) ; and when poor Wamba came up 
 on the rampart, which he did when the fighting was over, — being 
 such a fool that he could not be got to thrust his head into 
 danger for glory's sake — he found his dear knight with the dag- 
 ger in his back lying without life upon the body of the Count de 
 Chalus whom he had anon slain. 
 
 Ah, what a howl poor Wamba set up when he found his 
 master killed ! How he lamented over the corpse of that noble 
 knight and friend ! What mattered it to him that Richard the 
 King was borne wounded to his tent, and that Bertrand de 
 Gourdon was flayed alive ? At another time the sight of this 
 spectacle might have amused the simple knave ; but now all 
 his thoughts were of his lord : so good, so gentle, so kind, so 
 loyal, so frank with the great, so tender to the poor, so truthful 
 of speech, so modest regarding his own merit, so true a gentle- 
 man, in a word, that anybody might, with reason, deplore him. 
 
 As Wamba opened the dear knight's corselet, he found a 
 locket round his neck, in which there was some hair < not flaxen 
 like that of my Lady Rowena, who was almost as fair as an 
 
292 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 Albino, but as black, Wamba thought, as the locks of the 
 Jewish maiden whom the knight had rescued in the lists of 
 Templestowe. A bit of Rowena's hair was in Sir Wilfrid's 
 possession, too ; but that was in his purse along with his seal 
 of arms, and a couple of groats : for the good knight never kept 
 any money, so generous was he of his largesses when money 
 came in. 
 
 Wamba took the purse, and seal, and groats, but he left the 
 locket of hair round his master's neck, and when he returned to 
 England never said a word about the circumstance. After all, 
 how should he know whose hair it was ? It might have been 
 the knight's grandmother's hair for aught the fool knew ; so he 
 kept his counsel when he brought back the sad news and tokens 
 to the disconsolate widow at Rotherwood. 
 
 The poor fellow would never have left the body at all, and 
 indeed sat by it all night, and until the gray of the morning ; 
 when, seeing two suspicious-looking characters advancing 
 towards him, he fled in dismay, supposing that they were 
 marauders who were out searching for booty among the dead 
 bodies ; and having not the least courage, he fled from these, 
 and tumbled down the breach, and never stopped running as 
 fast as his legs would carry him, until he reached the tent of 
 his late beloved master. 
 
 The news of the knight's demise, it appeared, had been 
 known at his quarters long before ; for his servants were 
 gone, and had ridden off on his horses ; his chests were plun- 
 dered : there was not so much as a shirt-collar left in his 
 drawers, and the very bed and blankets had been carried away 
 by these faithful attendants. Who had slain Ivanhoe ? That 
 remains a mystery to the present day ; but Roger de Backbite, 
 whose nose he had pulled for defamation, and who was behind 
 him in the assault at Chalus, was seen two years afterwards at 
 the court of King John in an embroidered velvet waistcoat 
 which Rowena could have sworn she had worked for Ivanhoe, 
 and about which the widow would have made some little noise, 
 but that — but that she was no longer a widow. 
 
 That she truly deplored the death of her lord cannot be 
 questioned, for she ordered. the deepest mourning which any 
 milliner could supply, and erected a monument to his mem- 
 ory as big as a minster. But she was a lady of such fine 
 principles, that she did not allow her grief to overmaster her ; 
 and an opportunity speedily arising for uniting the best Saxon 
 families in England, by an alliance between herself and the 
 gentleman who offered himself to her, Rowena sacrificed her 
 
ST. GEORGE FOR ENGLAND. 
 
 2 93 
 
 inclination to remain single, to her sense of duty ; and con- 
 tracted a second matrimonial engagement. 
 
 That Athelstane was the man^ I suppose no reader familiar 
 with life, and novels which are a rescript of life, and are all 
 strictly natural and edifying, can for a moment doubt. Cardi- 
 nal Pandulfo tied the knot for them : and lest there should be 
 any doubt about Ivanhoe's death (for his body was never sent 
 home after all, nor seen after Wamba ran away from it), his 
 Eminence procured a Papal decree annulling the former mar- 
 riage, so that Rowena became Mrs. Athelstane with a clear 
 conscience. And who shall be surprised, if she was happier 
 with the stupid and boozy Thane than with the gentle and mel- 
 ancholy Wilfrid ? Did women never have a predilection 
 for fools, I should like to know ; or fall in love with donkeys, 
 before the time of the amours of Bottom and Titania ? Ah ! 
 Mary, had you not preferred an ass to a man, would you have 
 married Jack Bray, when a Michael Angelo offered ? Ah ! 
 Fanny, were you not a woman, would you persist in adoring 
 Tom Hiccups, who beats you, and comes home tipsy from the 
 Club ? Yes, Rowena cared a hundred times more about tipsy 
 Athelstane than ever she had done for gentle Ivanhoe, and so 
 great was her infatuation about the former, that she would sit 
 upon his knee in the presence of all her maidens, and let him 
 smoke his cigars in the very drawing-room. 
 
 This is the epitaph she caused to be written by Father 
 Drono (who piqued himself upon his Latinity) on the stone 
 commemorating the deatn of her late lord : — 
 
 ipic est <$utlfri)u0, belli totm tnrit avttnxs 
 Cum fllatno ft lancea, tlormanma et qut>que Jfranaa 
 IDerbera bura &abat: per Qluxcos multum equitabaf 
 Cmilbrrtum ocrifeit : atque tymosoiyma aibit. 
 ijeu ! nunc sub fossa sunt tanti militis 000a, 
 Wtov JtttjeUtam est conjur ca0ti00ima €t)am. 
 
 And this is the translation which the doggered knave Wamba 
 made of the latin lines : 
 
 " REQUIESCAT. 
 
 " Under the stone you behold, 
 Buried, and coffined, and cold, 
 Lieth Sir Wilfrid the Bold. 
 
 " Always he marched in advance, 
 Warring in Flanders and France, 
 Doughty with sword and with lance. 
 
 " Famous in Saracen fight, 
 
 Rode in his youth the good knight, 
 Scattering Paynims in flight. 
 
294 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 " Brian the Templar untrue, 
 Fairly in tourney he slew, 
 Saw Hierusalem too. 
 
 " Now he is buried and gone, 
 Lying beneath the gray stone : 
 Where shall you find such a one ? 
 
 " Long time his widow deplored, 
 Weeping the fate of her lord, 
 Sadly cut off by the sword. 
 
 " When she was eased of her pain, 
 Came the good Lord Athelstane, 
 When her ladyship married again." 
 
 Athelstane burst into a loud laugh, when he heard it, at the 
 last line, but Rowena would have had the fool whipped, had 
 not the Thane interceded ; and to him, she said, she could 
 refuse nothing. 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 IVANHOE REDIVIVUS. 
 
 I trust nobody will suppose, from the events described in 
 the last chapter, that our friend Ivanhoe is really dead. Be- 
 cause we have given him an epitaph or two and a monument, 
 are these any reasons that he should be really gone out of the 
 world ? No : as in the pantomime, when we see Clown and 
 Pantaloon lay out Harlequin and cry over him, we are always 
 sure that Master Harlequin will be up at the next minute alert 
 and shining in his glistening coat ; and, after giving a box on 
 the ears to the pair of them, will be taking a dance with Col- 
 umbine, or leaping gayly through the clock-face, or into the 
 three-pair-of-stairs' window : — so Sir Wilfrid, the Harlequin of 
 our Christmas piece, may be run through a little, or may make 
 believe to be dead, but will assuredly rise up again when he is 
 wanted, and show himself at the right moment. 
 
 The suspicious-looking characters from whom Wamba ran 
 away were no cut-throats and plunderers, as the poor knave 
 imagined, but no other than Ivanhoe's friend, the hermit, and 
 a reverend brother of his, who visited the scene of the late 
 battle in order to see if any Christians still survived there, 
 whom they might shrive and get ready for heaven, or to whom 
 
IVANHOE REDIVIVUS. 
 
 2 95 
 
 they might possibly offer the benefit of their skill as leeches. 
 Both were prodigiously learned in the healing art ; and had abou^ 
 them these precious elixirs which so often occur in romances, 
 and with which patients are so miraculously restored. Ab- 
 ruptly dropping his master's head from his lap as he fled, poor 
 Wamba caused the knight's pate to fall w T ith rather a heavy thump 
 to the ground, and if the knave had but stayed a minute longer, 
 he would have heard Sir Wilfrid utter a deep groan. But 
 though the fool heard him not, the holy hermits did ; and to 
 recognize the gallant Wilfrid, to withdraw the enormous dagger 
 still sticking out of his back, to wash the wound with a portion 
 of the precious elixir, and to pour a little of it down his throat, 
 was with the excellent hermits the work of an instant : which 
 remedies being applied, one of the good men took the knight 
 by the heels and the other by the head, and bore him daintily 
 from the castle to their hermitage in a neighboring rock. As 
 for the Count of Chalus, and the remainder of the slain, the 
 hermits were too much occupied with Ivanhoe's case to mind 
 them, and did not, it appears, give them any elixir : so that, if 
 they are really dead, they must stay on the rampart stark and 
 cold ; or if otherwise, when the scene closes upon them as 
 it does now, they may get up, shake themselves, go to the 
 slips and drink a pot of porter, or change their stage-clothes 
 and go home to supper. My dear readers, you may settle the 
 matter among yourselves as you like. If you wish to kill the 
 characters really off, let them be dead, and have done with them : 
 but, entre nous, I don't believe they are any more dead than 
 you or I are, and sometimes doubt whether there is a single 
 syllable of truth in this whole story. 
 
 Well, Ivanhoe was taken to the hermits' cell, and there 
 doctored by the holy fathers for his hurts ; which were of such 
 a severe and dangerous order, that he was under medical treat- 
 ment for a very considerable time. When he woke up from 
 his delirium, and asked how long he had been ill, fancy his 
 astonishment when he heard that he had been in the fever for 
 six years ! He thought the reverend fathers were joking at 
 first, but their profession forbade them from that sort of levity ; 
 and besides, he could not possibly have got well any sooner, 
 because the story would have been sadly put out , had he ap-\ 
 peared earlier. And it proves how good the fathers were to 
 him, and how very nearly that scoundrel of a Roger de Back- 
 bite's dagger had finished him, that he did not get well under 
 this great length of time ; during the whole of which the fathers 
 tended him without ever thinking of a fee. I know of a kind 
 
296 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 physician in this town who does as much sometimes ; but 1 
 won't do him the ill service of mentioning his name here. 
 
 Ivanhoe, being now quickly pronounced well, trimmed his 
 beard, which by this time hung down considerably below his 
 knees, and calling for his suit of chain-armor, which before had 
 fitted his elegant person as tight as wax, now put it on, and it 
 bagged and hung so loosely about him, that even the good 
 friars laughed at his absurd appearance. It was impossible 
 that he should go about the country in such a garb as that : 
 the very boys would laugh at him : so the friars gave him one 
 of their old gowns, in which he disguised himself, and after 
 taking an affectionate farewell of his friends, set forth on his 
 return to his native country. As he went along, he learned 
 that Richard was dead, that John reigned, that Prince Arthur 
 had been poisoned, and was of course made acquainted with 
 various other facts of public importance recorded in Pinnock's 
 Catechism and the Historic Page. 
 
 But these subjects did not interest him near so much as his 
 
 own private affairs ; and I can fancy that his legs trembled 
 
 under him, and his pilgrim's staff shook with emotion, as at 
 
 length, after many perils, he came in sight of his paternal 
 
 mansion of Rotherwood, and saw once more the chimneys 
 
 smoking, the shadows of the oaks over the grass in the sunset, 
 
 and the rooks winging over the trees. He heard the supper 
 
 gong sounding : he knew his way to the door well enough ; he 
 
 entered the familiar hall with a benedicite, and without any more 
 
 words took his place. 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 You might have thought for a moment that the gray friar 
 trembled and his shrunken cheek looked deadly pale ; but he 
 recovered himself presently : nor could you see his pallor for 
 the cowl which covered his face. 
 
 A little boy was playing on Athelstane's knee ; Rowena, 
 smiling and patting the Saxon Thane fondly on his broad bull- 
 head, filled him a huge cup of spiced wine from a golden jug. 
 He drained a quart of the liquor, and, turning round, addressed 
 the friar : — 
 
 " And so, gray frere, thou sawest good King Richard fall at 
 Chalus by the bolt of that felon bowman ? " 
 
 " We did, an it please you. The brothers of our house 
 attended the good King in his last moments : in truth, he made 
 a Christian ending ! " 
 
 " And didst thou see the archer flayed alive ? It must have 
 been rare sport," roared Athelstane, laughing hugely at the 
 joke. " How the fellow must have howled ! " 
 
TVANHOE TN THE HALT. OF HIS FATHERS. 
 
IVANHOE REDIVIVUS. 
 
 297 
 
 " My love ! " said Rowena, interposing tenderly, and putting 
 a pretty white finger on his lip. 
 
 " I would have liked to see it too," cried the boy. 
 
 " That's my own little Cedric, and so thou shalt. And, 
 friar, didst see my poor kinsman Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe ? 
 They say he fought well at Chalus ! " 
 
 " My sweet lord," again interposed Rowena, " mention him 
 not." 
 
 " Why ? Because thou and he were so tender in days of 
 yore — when you could not bear my plain face, being all in love 
 with his pale one ? " 
 
 " Those times are past now, dear Athelstane," said his 
 affectionate wife, looking up to the ceiling. 
 
 " Marry, thou never could'st forgive him the Jewess, 
 Rowena." 
 
 " The odious hussy ! don't mention the name of the unbe- 
 lieving creature," exclaimed the lady. 
 
 " Well, well, poor Wil was a good lad — a thought melan- 
 choly and milksop though. Why, a pint of sack fuddled his 
 poor brains." 
 
 " Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe was a good lance," said the friar. 
 " I have heard there was none better in Christendom. He lay 
 in our convent after his wounds, and it was there we tended 
 him till he died. He was buried in our north cloister." 
 
 " And there's an end of him," said Athelstane. " But come, 
 this is dismal talk. Where's Wamba the Jester ? Let us have 
 a song. Stir up, Wamba, and don't lie like a dog in the fire ! 
 Sing us a song, thou crack-brained jester, and leave off whim- 
 pering for by-gones. Tush, man ! There be many good fellows 
 left in this world." 
 
 " There be buzzards in eagles' nests," Wamba said, who 
 was lying stretched before the fire, sharing the hearth with the 
 Thane's dogs. " There be dead men alive, and live men dead. 
 There be merry songs and dismal songs. Marry, and the 
 merriest are the saddest sometimes. I will leave off motley 
 and wear black, gossip Athelstane. I will turn howler at 
 funerals, and then, perhaps, I shall be merry. Motley is fit for 
 mutes, and black for fools. Give me some drink, gossip, for 
 3ny voice is as cracked as my brain." 
 
 " Drink and sing, thou beast, and cease prating," the Thane 
 said. 
 
 And Wamba, touching his rebeck wildly, sat up in the . 
 chimney-side and curled his lean shanks together and began : — 
 
REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 "LOVE AT TWO SCORE. 
 
 " Ho ! pretty page, with dimpled chin, 
 
 That never has known the barber's shear, 
 All your aim is woman to win — 
 This is the way that boys begin — 
 Wait till you've come to forty year? 
 
 " Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, 
 Billing and cooing is all your cheer, 
 Sighing and singing of midnight strains 
 Under Bonnybeils' window-panes. 
 Wait till you've come to forty year! 
 
 " Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, 
 Grizzling hair the brain doth clear ; 
 Then you know a boy is an ass, 
 Then you know the worth of a lass 
 Once you have come to forty year. 
 
 u Pledge me round, I bid ye declare, 
 
 All good fellows whose beards are gray : 
 Did not the fairest of the fair 
 Common grown, and wearisome, ere 
 Ever a month was passed away ? 
 
 " The reddest lips that ever have kissed, 
 The brightest eyes that ever have shone, 
 May pray and whisper and we not list, 
 Or look away and never be missed, 
 Ere yet ever a month was gone. 
 
 " Gillian's dead, Heaven rest her bier, 
 How I loved her twenty years syne? 
 Marian's married, but I sit here, 
 Alive and merry at forty year, 
 
 Dipping my nose in my Gascon wine." 
 
 " Who taught thee that merry lay, Wamba, thou son of Wit- 
 less ? " roared Athelstane, clattering his cup on the table and 
 shouting the chorus. 
 
 " It was a good and holy hermit, sir, the pious clerk of 
 Copmanhurst, that you wot of, who played many a prank with 
 us in the days that we knew King Richard. Ah, noble sir, 
 that was a jovial time and a good priest." 
 
 " They say the holy priest is sure of the next bishopric, 
 my love," said Rowena. " His Majesty hath taken him into 
 much favor. My Lord of Huntingdon looked very well at the 
 last ball ; but I never could see any beauty in the Countess — a 
 freckled, blowsy thing, whom they used to call Maid Marian : 
 though, for the matter of that, what between her flirtations 
 with Major Littlejohn and Captain Scarlett, really " 
 
 " Jealous again — haw ! haw ! " laughed Athelstane. 
 
 " I am above jealousy, and scorn it," Rowena answered, 
 drawing herself up very majestically. 
 
 "Well, well, Wamba's was a good song," Athelstane said. 
 
 "Nay, a wicked song," said Rowena, turning up her eyes 
 
IVANHOE REDIVIVUS. 
 
 as usual. " What ! rail at woman's love ? Prefer a filthy wine- 
 cup to a true wife ? Woman's love is eternal, my Athelstane. 
 He who questions it would be a blasphemer were he not a fool. 
 The well-born and well-nurtured gentlewoman loves once and 
 only." 
 
 " I pray you, madam, pardon me, I — I am not well," said 
 the gray friar, rising abrup'tly from his settle, and tottering 
 down the steps of the dais. Wamba sprung after him, his 
 bells jingling as he rose, and casting his arms round the appar- 
 ently fainting man, he led him away into the court. " There 
 be dead men alive and live men dead," whispered he. " There 
 be coffins to laugh at and marriages to cry over. Said I not 
 sooth, holy friar ? " And when they had got out into the 
 solitary court, which was deserted by all the followers of the 
 Thane, who were mingling in the drunken revelry in the hall, 
 Wamba, seeing that none were, by, knelt down, and kissing the 
 friar's garment, said, " I knew thee, I knew thee, my lord and 
 my liege ! " 
 
 "Get up," said Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, scarcely able to articu- 
 late : " only fools are faithful." 
 
 And he passed on, and into the little chapel where his 
 father lay buried. All night long the friar spent there: and 
 Wamba the Jester lay outside watching as mute as the saint 
 over the porch. 
 
 When the morning came, Wamba was gone ; and the knave 
 being in the habit of wandering hither and thither as he chose, lit- 
 tle notice was taken of his absence by a master and mistress who 
 had not much sense of humor. As for Sir Wilfrid, a gentleman 
 of his delicacy of feelings could not be expected to remain in a 
 house where things so naturally disagreeable to him were oc- 
 curring, and he quitted Rotherwood incontinently, after paying 
 a' dutiful visit to the tomb where his old father, Cedric, was 
 buried ; and hastened on to York, at which city he made him- 
 self known to the family attorney, a most respectable man, in 
 whose hands his ready money was deposited, and took up a 
 sum sufficient to fit himself out with credit, and a handsome 
 retinue, as became a knight of consideration. But he changed 
 his name, wore a wig and spectacles, and disguised himself 
 entirely, so that it was impossible his friends or the public 
 should know him, and thus metamorphosed, went about whither- 
 soever his fancy led him. He was present at a public ball 
 at York, which the lord mayor gave, danced Sir Roger de 
 Coverley in the very same set with Rowena — (who was dis- 
 
3°° 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 gusted that Maid Marian took precedence of her) — he saw lit- 
 tle Athelstane overeat himself at the supper and pledge his big 
 father in a cup of sack ; he met the Reverend Mr. Tuck at a 
 missionary meeting, where he seconded a resolution proposed 
 by that eminent divine ; — in fine, he saw a score of his old ac- 
 quaintances, none of whom recognized in him the warrior of 
 Palestine and Templestowe. Having a large fortune and 
 nothing to do, he went about this country performing charities, 
 slaying robbers, rescuing the distressed, and achieving noble 
 feats of arms. Dragons and giants existed in his day no more, 
 or be sure he would have had a fling at them : for the truth is, 
 Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe was somewhat sick of the life which the 
 hermits of Chalus had restored to him, and felt himself so 
 friendless and solitary that he would not have been sorry to 
 come to an end of it. Ah, my dear friends and intelligent 
 British public, are there not others who are melancholy under 
 a mask of gayety, and who, in the midst of crowds, are lonely ? 
 Liston was a most melancholy man ; Grimaldi had feelings ; 
 and there are others I wot of : — but psha ! — let us have the 
 next chapter. 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 IVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 The rascally manner in which the chicken-livered successor 
 of Richard of the Lion-heart conducted himself to all parties, 
 to his relatives, his nobles, and his people, is a matter notori- 
 ous, and set forth clearly in the Historic Page : hence, although 
 nothing, except perhaps success, can, in my opinion, excuse 
 disaffection to the sovereign, or appearance in armed rebellion 
 against him, the loyal reader will make allowance for two of 
 the principal personages of this narrative, who will have to 
 appear in the present chapter in the odious character of rebels 
 to their lord and king. It must be remembered, in partial 
 exculpation of the fault of Athelstane and Rowena, (a fault for 
 which they were well punished, as you shall presently hear,) 
 that the monarch exasperated his subjects in a variety of ways, 
 — that before he murdered his royal nephew, Prince Arthur, 
 there was a great question whether he was the rightful King of 
 
IVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 301 
 
 England at all, — that his behavior as an uncle, and a family 
 man, was likely to wound the feelings of any lady and mother, 
 — finally, that there were palliations for the conduct of Rowena 
 and Ivanhoe, which it now becomes our duty to relate. 
 
 When his Majesty destroyed Prince Arthur, the Lady 
 Rowena, who was one of the ladies of honor to the Queen, 
 gave up her place at court at once, and retired to her Castle 
 of Rotherwood. Expressions made use of by her, and derog- 
 atory to the character of the sovereign, were carried to the 
 monarch's ears, by some of those parasites, doubtless, by whom 
 it is the curse of kings to be attended ; and John swore, by 
 St. Peter's teeth, that he would be revenged upon the haughty 
 Saxon lady, — a kind of oath which, though he did not trouble 
 himself about all other oaths, he was never known to break. 
 It was not for some years after he had registered this vow, that 
 he was enabled to keep it. 
 
 Had Ivanhoe been present at Rouen when the King medi- 
 tated his horrid designs against his nephew, there is little doubt 
 that Sir Wilfred would have prevented them, and rescued the 
 boy : for Ivanhoe was, we need scarcely say, a hero of romance ; 
 and it is the custom and duty of all gentlemen of that profes- 
 sion to be present on all occasions of historic interest, to be 
 engaged in all conspiracies, royal interviews, and remarkable 
 occurrences : and hence Sir Wilfred would certainly have res- 
 cued the young Prince, had he been anywhere in the neighbor- 
 hood of Rouen, where the foul tragedy occurred. But he was 
 a couple of hundred leagues off, at Chalus, when the circum- 
 stance happened ; tied down in his bed as crazy as a Bedlamite, 
 and raving ceaselessly in the Hebrew tongue (which be had 
 caught up in a previous illness in which he was tended by a 
 maiden of that nation) about a certain Rebecca Ben Isaacs, 
 of whom, being a married man, he never would have thought, 
 had he been in his sound senses. During this delirium, what 
 were politics to him, or he to politics ? King John or King 
 Arthur were entirely indifferent to a man who announced to his 
 nurse-tenders, the good hermits of Chalus before mentioned, 
 that he was the Marquis of Jericho, and about to marry Re- 
 becca the Queen of Sheba. In a word, he only heard of what 
 had occurred when he reached England, and his senses were 
 restored to him. Whether was he happier, sound of brain 
 and entirely miserable, (as any man would be who found so 
 admirable a wife as Rowena married again,) or perfectly crazy, 
 the husband of the beautiful Rebecca? I don't know which he 
 liked best. 
 
 20 
 
302 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 Howbeit the conduct of King John inspired Sir Wilfrid 
 with so thorough a detestation of that sovereign, that he never 
 could be brought to take service under him ; to get himself pre- 
 sented at St. James's, or in any way to acknowledge, but by 
 stern acquiescence, the authority of the sanguinary successor 
 of his beloved King Richard. It was Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, I 
 need scarcely say, w r ho got the Barons of England to league 
 together and extort from the king that famous instrument and 
 palladium of our liberties at present in the British Museum, 
 Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury — the Magna Charta. His 
 name does not naturally appear in the list of Barons, because 
 he was only a knight, and a knight in disguise too * nor does 
 Athelstane's signature figure on that document. Athelstane, 
 in the first place, could not write ; nor did he care a penny- 
 piece about politics, so long as he could drink his wine at 
 home undisturbed, and have his hunting and shooting in quiet. 
 
 It was not until the King wanted to interfere with the sport 
 of every gentleman in England (as we know by reference to 
 the Historic Page that this odious monarch did), that Athel- 
 stane broke out into open rebellion, along with several York- 
 shire squires and noblemen. It is recorded of the King, that 
 he forbade every man to hunt his own deer ; and, in order to 
 secure an obedience to his orders, this Herod of a monarch 
 wanted to secure the eldest sons of all the nobility and gentry, 
 as hostages for the good behavior of their parents. 
 
 Athelstane was anxious about his game — Rowena was anx- 
 ious about her son. The former swore that he would hunt his 
 deer in spite of all Norman tyrants — the latter asked, should 
 she give up her boy to the ruffian who had murdered his own 
 nephew ? # The speeches of both were brought to the King at 
 York ; and, furious, he ordered an instant attack upon Rother- 
 wood, and* that the lord and lady of that castle should be 
 brought before him dead or alive. 
 
 Ah, where was Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, the unconquerable 
 champion, to defend the castle against the royal party ? A few 
 thrusts from his lance would have spitted the leading warriors 
 of the King's host : a few cuts from his sword would have put 
 John's forces to rout. But the lance and sword of Ivanhoe were 
 idle on this occasion. " No, be hanged to me ! " said the 
 knight, bitterly, " this is a quarrel in which I can't interfere. 
 Common politeness forbids. Let yonder ale-swilling Athelstane 
 defend his — ha, ha — wife; and my Lady Rowena guard her — 
 ha, ha, ha — son." And he laughed wildly and madly ; and the 
 
 * See Hume, Giraldus Cambrensis, The Monk of Croyland, and Pinnock's Catechism. 
 
IVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 sarcastic way in which he choked and gurgled out the words 
 " wife " and " son " would have made you shudder to hear. 
 
 When he heard, however, that, on the fourth day of the 
 siege, Athelstane had been slain by a cannon-ball, (and this 
 time for good, and not to come to life again as he had done 
 before,) and that the widow (if so the innocent bigamist may 
 be called) was conducting the defence of Rotherwood herself 
 with the greatest intrepidity, showing herself upon the walls 
 with her little son, (who bellowed like a bull, and did not like 
 the righting at all,) pointing the guns and encouraging the gar- 
 rison in every way — better feelings returned to the bosom of 
 the Knight of Ivanhoe, and summoning his men, he armed 
 himself quickly, and determined to go forth to the rescue. 
 
 He rode without stopping for two days and two nights in the 
 direction of Rotherwood, with such swiftness and disregard for 
 refreshment, indeed, that his men dropped one by one upon the 
 road, and he arrived alone at the lodge-gate of the park. The 
 windows were smashed ; the door stove in ; the lodge, a neat little 
 Swiss cottage, with a garden where the pinafores of Mrs. Gurth's 
 children might have been seen hanging on the gooseberry-bushes 
 in more peaceful times, was now a ghastly heap of smoking 
 ruins : cottage, bushes, pinafores, children lay mangled to- 
 gether, destroyed by the licentious soldiery of an infuriate 
 monarch ! Far be it from me to excuse the disobedience of 
 Athelstane and Rowena to their sovereign ; but surely, surely 
 this cruelty might have been spared. 
 
 Gurth, who was lodge-keeper, was lying dreadfully wounded 
 and expiring at the flaming and violated threshold of his lately 
 picturesque home. A catapult and a couple of mangonels had 
 done his business. The faithful fellow, recognizing his master, 
 who had put up his vizor and forgotten his wig and spectacles 
 in the agitation of the moment, exclaimed, " Sir Wilfrid ! my 
 dear master — praised be St. Waltheof — there may be yet time 
 - — my beloved mistr — master Atheist # # * " He sank back, 
 and never spoke again. 
 
 Ivanhoe spurred on his horse Bavieca madly up the chestnut 
 avenue. The castle was before him ; the western tower was 
 in flames ; the besiegers were pressing at the southern gate ; 
 Athelstane's banner, the bull rampant, was still on the northern 
 bartizan. " An Ivanhoe, an Ivanhoe ! " he bellowed out, with 
 a shout that overcame all the din of battle : " Nostre Dame a 
 la rescousse ! " And to hurl his lance through the midriff of 
 Reginald de Bracy, who was commanding the assault — who fell 
 howling with anguish — to wave his battle-axe over his own 
 
3°4 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 head, and cut off those of thirteen men-at-arms, was the work 
 of an instant. " An Ivanhoe, an Ivanhoe ! " he still shouted, 
 and down went a man as sure as he said i hoe ! 3 " 
 
 " Ivanhoe ! Ivanhoe ! " a shrill voice cried from the top of 
 the northern bartizan. Ivanhoe knew it. 
 
 " Rowena my love, I come ! " he roared on his part. " Vil- 
 lains ! touch but a hair of her head, and I * * r * *» 
 
 Here, with a sudden plunge and a squeal of agony, Bavieca 
 sprang forward wildly, and fell as wildly on her back, rolling 
 over and over upon the knight. All was dark before him ; his 
 brain reeled ; it whizzed ; something came crashing down on 
 his forehead. St. Waltheof and all the saints of the Saxon 
 calendar protect the knight ! # * # 
 
 When he came to himself, Wamba and the lieutenant of bis 
 lances were leaning over him with a bottle of the hermit's elixir. 
 " We arrived here the day after the battle, said the fool ; 
 "marry, I have a knack of that." 
 
 " Your worship rode so deucedly quick, there was no keep- 
 ing up with your worship," said the lieutenant. 
 
 " The day — after — the bat — " groaned Ivanhoe. " Where 
 is the Lady Rowena ? " 
 
 "The castle has been taken and sacked," the lieutenant 
 said, and pointed to what once was Rotherwood, but was now 
 only a heap of smoking ruins. Not a tower was left, not a 
 roof, not a floor, not a single human being ! Everything was 
 flame and ruin, smash and murther ! 
 
 Of course Ivanhoe fell back fainting again among the ninety- 
 seven men at arms whom he had slain ; and it was not until 
 Wamba had applied a second, and uncommonly strong dose of 
 the elixir that he came to life again. The good knight was, 
 however, from long practice, so accustomed to the severest 
 wounds, that he bore them far more easily than common folk, 
 and thus was enabled to reach York upon a litter, which his 
 men constructed for him, with tolerable ease. 
 
 Rumor had as usual advanced before him ; and he heard at 
 the hotel where he stopped, what had been the issue of the 
 affair at Rotherwood. A minute or two after his horse was 
 stabbed, and Ivanhoe knocked down, the western bartizan was 
 taken by the storming-party which invested it, and every soul 
 slain, except Rowena and her boy ; who were tied upon horses 
 and carried away, under a secure guard, to one of the King's 
 castles — nobody knew whither : and Ivanhoe was recommended 
 by the hotel-keeper (whose house he had used in former times) 
 to reassume his wig and spectacles, and not call himself by his 
 
JVANHOE TO THE RESCUE. 
 
 3°5 
 
 own name any more, lest some of the King's people should lay 
 hands on him. However, as he had killed everybody round 
 about him, there was but little danger of his discovery ; and the 
 Knight of the Spectacles, as he was called, went about York 
 quite unmolested, and at liberty to attend to his own affairs. 
 
 We wish to be brief in narrating this part of the gallant 
 hero's existence; for his life was one of feeling rather than 
 affection, and the description of mere sentiment is considered 
 by many well-informed persons to be tedious. What were his 
 sentiments now, it may be asked, under the peculiar position in 
 which he found himself ? He had done his duty by Rowena, 
 certainly : no man could say otherwise. But as for being in 
 love with her any more, after what had occurred, that was a 
 different question. Well, come what w r ould, he was determined 
 still to continue doing his duty by her ; — but as she was whisk- 
 ed away the deuce knew whither, how could he do anything ? So 
 he resigned himself to the fact that she was thus whisked away. 
 
 He, of course, sent emissaries about the country to endeav- 
 or to find out where Rowena was : but these came back with- 
 out any sort of intelligence ; and it was remarked, that he still 
 remained in a perfect state of resignation. He remained in this 
 condition for a year, or more; and it was said that he was 
 becoming more cheerful, and he certainly was growing rather 
 fat. The Knight of the Spectacles was voted an agreeable man 
 in a grave way ; and gave some very elegant, though quiet, 
 parties, and was received in the best society of York. 
 
 It was just at assize-time, the lawyers and barristers had 
 arrived, and the town was unusually gay ; when, one morning, 
 the attorney, whom we have mentioned as Sir Wilfrid's man of 
 business, and a most respectable man, called upon his gallant 
 client at his lodgings, and said he had a communication of 
 importance to make. Having to communicate with a client of 
 rank, who was condemned to be hanged for forgery, Sir Roger 
 de Backbite, the attorney said, he had been to visit that party 
 in the condemned cell ; and on the way through the yard, and 
 through the bars of another cell, had seen and recognized an 
 old acquaintance of Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe — and the lawyer 
 held him out, with a particular look, a note, written on a piece 
 of whitey-brown paper. 
 
 What were Ivanhoe's sensations when he recognized the 
 handwriting of Rowena ! — he trembingly dashed open the 
 billet, and read as follows : — 
 
 " My dearest Ivanhoe, — For I am thine now as erst, and 
 
306 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 my first love was ever — ever dear to me. Have I been near 
 thee dying for a whole year, and didst thou make no effort to 
 rescue thy Rowena ? Have ye given to others — I mention not 
 their name nor their odious creed — the heart that ought to be 
 mine ? I send thee my forgiveness from mf dying pallet of 
 straw. — I forgive thee the insults I have received, the cold and 
 hunger I have endured, the failing health of my boy, the bitter- 
 ness of my prison, thy infatuation about that Jewess, which 
 made our married life miserable, and which caused thee, I am 
 sure, to go abroad to look after her. I forgive thee all my 
 wrongs, and fain would bid thee farewell. Mr. Smith hath 
 gained over my jailer — he will tell thee how I may see thee. 
 Come and console my last hour by promising that thou wilt 
 care for my boy — his boy who fell like a hero (when thou wert 
 absent) combating by the side of 
 
 " Rowena." 
 
 The reader may consult his own feelings, and say whether 
 Ivanhoe was likely to be pleased or not by this letter : however, 
 he inquired of Mr. Smith, the solicitor, what was the plan which 
 that gentleman had devised for the introduction to Lady Rowena, 
 and was informed that he was to get a barrister's gown and wig, 
 when the jailer would introduce him into the interior of the 
 prison. These decorations, knowing several gentlemen of the 
 Northern Circuit, Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe easily procured, and 
 with feelings of no small trepidation, reached the cell, where, 
 for the space of a year, poor Rowena had been immured. 
 
 If any person have a doubt of the correctness, of the 
 historical exactness of this narrative, I refer him to the " Biog- 
 raphie Universelle " (article Jean sans Terre), which says, " La 
 femme d'un baron auquel on vint demander son fils, repondit, 
 ' Le roi pense-t-il que je confierai mon fils a un homme qui a 
 egorge son neveu de sa propre main ? ' Jean fit enlever la 
 mere et l'enfant, et la laissa mourir defaim dansles cachots." 
 
 I picture to myself, with a painful sympathy, Rowena under- 
 going this disagreeable sentence. All her virtues, her resolu- 
 tion, her chaste energy and perseverance, shine with redoubled 
 lustre, and, for the first time since the commencement of the 
 history, I feel that I am partially reconciled to her. The weary 
 year passes — she grow r s weaker and more languid, thinner and 
 thinner ! At length Ivanhoe, in the disguise of a barrister of 
 the Northern Circuit, is introduced to her cell, and finds his 
 lady in the last stage of exhaustion, on the straw of her dun- 
 geon, with her little boy in her arms. She has preserved his 
 
IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 
 
 life at the expense of her own, giving him the whole of the 
 pittance which her jailers allowed her, and perishing herself of 
 inanition. 
 
 There is a scene ! I feel as if I had made it up, as it were, 
 with this lady, and that we part in peace, in consequence of my 
 providing her with so sublime a death-bed. Fancy Ivanhoe's 
 entrance — their recognition — the faint blush upon her worn 
 features — the pathetic way in which she gives little Cedric in 
 charge to him, and his promises of protection. 
 
 "Wilfrid, my early loved," slowly gasped she, removing her 
 gray hair from her furrowed temples, and gazing on her boy 
 fondly, as he nestled on Ivanhoe's knee — " promise me, by St. 
 Waltheof of Templestowe — promise me one boon ! " 
 
 " I do," said Ivanhoe, clasping the boy, and thinking it was 
 to that little innocent the promise was intended to apply. 
 
 " By St. Waltheof ? " 
 
 " By St. Waltheof ! " 
 
 " Promise me, then," gasped Rowena, staring wildly at him, 
 " that you never will marry a Jewess ? " 
 
 " By St. Waltheof," cried Ivanhoe, " this is too much, Ro- 
 wena ! " — But he felt his hand grasped for a moment, the nerves 
 then relaxed, the pale lip ceased to quiver — she was no more ! 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 
 
 Having placed young Cedric at school at the Hall of 
 Dotheboyes, in Yorkshire, and arranged his family affairs, Sir 
 Wilfred of Ivanhoe quitted a country which had no longer any 
 charms for him, and in which his stay was rendered the less 
 agreeable by the notion that King John would hang him, if ever 
 he could lay hands on the faithful follower of King Richard 
 and Prince Arthur. 
 
 But there was always in those days a home and occupation 
 for a brave and pious knight. A saddle on a gallant war-horse, 
 a pitched field against the Moors, a lance wherewith to spit a 
 turbaned infidel, or a road to Paradise carved out by his scimitar 
 — these were the height of the ambition of good and religious 
 warriors j and so renowned a champion as Sir Wilfrid of Ivan- 
 
3°8 
 
 REBECCA AND R OWEN A. 
 
 hoe was sure to be well received wherever blows were stricken 
 for the cause of Christendom. Even among the dark Templars, 
 he who had twice overcome the most famous lance of their 
 Order was a respected though not a welcome guest : but among 
 the opposition company of the Knights of St. John, he was ad- 
 mired and courted "beyond measure ; and always affectioning 
 that Order, which offered him, indeed, its first rank and com- 
 manderies, he did much good service ; fighting in their ranks 
 for the glory of heaven and St. Waltheof, and slaying many 
 thousands of the heathen in Prussia, Poland, and those savage 
 Northern countries. The only fault that the great and gallant, 
 though severe and ascetic Folko of Heydenbraten, the chief of 
 the Order of St. John, found with the melancholy warrior, 
 whose lance did such good service to the cause, was, that he 
 did not persecute the Jews as so religious a knight should. He 
 let off sundry captives of that persuasion whom he had taken 
 with his sword and his spear, saved others from torture, and 
 actuallv ransomed the two last grinders of a venerable rabbi 
 (that Roger de Cartright, an English knight of the Order, was 
 about to extort from the elderly Israelite,) with a hundred 
 crowns and a gimmal ring, which were all the property he 
 possessed. Whenever he so ransomed or benefited one of this 
 religion, he would moreover give them a little token or a mes- 
 sage (were the good knight out of money), saying, " Take this 
 token, and remember this deed was done by Wilfrid the Dis- 
 inherited, for the services whilome rendered to him by Rebecca, 
 the daughter of Isaac of York ! " So among themselves, and 
 in their meetings and synagogues, and in their restless travels 
 from land to land, when they of Jewry cursed and reviled all 
 Christians, as such abominable heathens will, they nevertheless 
 excepted the name of the Desdichado, or the doubly-disinherited 
 as he now was, the Desdichado-Doblado. 
 
 The account of all the battles, storms, and scaladoes in 
 which Sir Wilfrid took part, would only weary the reader ; for 
 the chopping off one heathen's head with an axe must be very 
 like the decapitation of any other unbeliever. Suffice it to say, 
 that wherever this kind of work was to be done, and Sir Wil- 
 frid was in the way, he was the man to perform it. It would 
 astonish you were you to see the account that Wamba kept of 
 his master's achievements, and of the Bulgarians, Bohemians, 
 Croatians, slain or maimed by his hand. And as, in those days, 
 a reputation for valor had an immense effect upon the soft 
 hearts of women, and even the ugliest man, were he a stout 
 warrior, was looked upon with favor by Beauty : so Ivanhoe, 
 
IVANHOE RANSOMS A JEW'S GRINDERS 
 
IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 309 
 
 who was by no means ill-favored, though now becoming rather 
 elderly, made conquests over female breasts as well as over 
 Saracens, and had more than one direct offer of marriage made 
 to him by princesses, countesses, and noble ladies possessing 
 both charms and money, which they were anxious to place at 
 the disposal of a champion so renowned. It is related that the 
 Duchess Regent of Kartoffelberg offered him her hand, and 
 the ducal crown of Kartoffelberg, which he had rescued from 
 the unbelieving Prussians ; but Ivanhoe evaded the Duchess's 
 offer, by riding away from her capital secretly at midnight and 
 hiding himself in a convent of Knights Hospitallers on the 
 borders of Poland. And it is a fact tha*t the Princess Rosalia 
 Seraphina of Pumpernickel, the most lovely woman of her time, 
 became so frantically attached to him, that she followed him on 
 a campaign, and was discovered with his baggage disguised as 
 a horse-boy. But no princess, no beauty, no female blandish- 
 ments had any charms for Ivanhoe : no hermit practised a more 
 austere celibacy. The severity of his morals contrasted so re- 
 markably with the lax and dissolute manner of the young lords 
 and nobles in the courts which he frequented, that these young 
 springalds would sometimes sneer and call him Monk and 
 Milksop ; but his courage in the day of battle was so terrible 
 and admirable, that I promise you the youthful libertines did 
 not sneer the?i ; and the most reckless of them often turned 
 pale when they couched their lances to follow Ivanhoe. Holy 
 Waltheof ! it was an awful sight to see him with his pale calm 
 face, his shield upon his breast, his heavy lance before him, 
 charging a squadron of heathen Bohemians, or a regiment of 
 Cossacks ! Wherever he saw the enemy, Ivanhoe assaulted 
 him : and when people remonstrated with him, and said if he 
 attacked such and such a post, breach, castle, or army, he would 
 be slain, " And suppose I be ? " he answered, giving them to 
 understand that he would as lief the Battle of Life were over 
 altogether. 
 
 While he was thus making war against the Northern infidels 
 news was carried all over Christendom of a catastrophe which 
 had befallen the good cause in the South of Europe, where the 
 Spanish Christians had met with such a defeat at the hands of 
 the Moors as had never been known in the proudest days of 
 Saladin. 
 
 Thursday, the 9th of Shaban, in the 605th year of the 
 Hejira, is known all over the West as the amun-al-ark^ the 
 year of the battle of Alarcos, gained over the Christians by the 
 
REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 Moslems of Andaluz, on which fatal day Christendom suffered 
 a defeat so signal, that it was feared the Spanish peninsula 
 would be entirely wrested away from the dominion of the 
 Cross. On that day the Franks lost 150,000 men and 30,000 
 prisoners. A man-slave sold among the unbelievers for a 
 dirhem ; a donkey, for the same ; a sword, half a dirhem ; a 
 horse, five dirhems. Hundreds of thousands of these various 
 sorts of booty were in the possession of the triumphant follow- 
 ers of Yakoob-al-Mansoor. Curses on his head ! But he was 
 a brave warrior, and the Christians before him seemed to forget 
 that they were the descendants of the brave Cid, the Kanlritoor, 
 as the Moorish hounds (in their jargon) denominated the famous 
 Campeador. 
 
 A general move for the rescue of the faithful in Spain — a 
 crusade against the infidels triumphing there, was preached 
 throughout Europe by all the most eloquent clergy ; and thou- 
 sands and thousands of valorous knights and nobles, accom- 
 panied by well-meaning varlets and vassals of the lower sort, 
 trooped from all sides to the rescue. The straits of Gibel- 
 al-Tariff, at which spot the Moor, passing from Barbary, first 
 planted his accursed foot on the Christian soil, were crowded 
 with the galleys of the Templars and the Knights of St. John, 
 who flung succors into the menaced kingdoms of the penin- 
 sula ; the inland sea swarmed with their ships hasting from 
 their forts and islands, from Rhodes and Byzantium, from Jaffa 
 and Askalon. The Pyrenean peaks beheld the pennons and 
 glittered with the armor of the knights marching out of France 
 into Spain ; and, finally, in a ship that set sail direct from Bo- 
 hemia, where Sir Wilfrid happened to be quartered at the time 
 when the news of the defeat of Alarcos came and alarmed all 
 good Christians, Ivanhoe landed at Barcelona, and proceeded 
 to slaughter the Moors forthwith. 
 
 He brought letters of introduction from his friend Folko of 
 Heydenbraten, the Grand Master of the Knights of Saint 
 John, to the venerable Baldomero de Garbanzos, Grand Master 
 of the renowned order of Saint Jago. The chief of Saint Jago's 
 knights paid the greatest respect to a warrior whose fame was 
 already so widely known in Christendom ; and Ivanhoe had 
 the pleasure of being appointed to all the posts of danger and 
 forlorn hopes that could be devised in his honor. He would 
 be called up twice or thrice in a night to fight the Moors : he 
 led ambushes, scaled breaches, was blown up by mines ; was 
 wounded many hundred times (recovering, thanks to the elixir, 
 of which Wamba always carried a supply) ; he was the terroi 
 
IVANHOE SLAYING THE MOORS. 
 
IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 
 
 of the Saracens, and the admiration and wonder of the Chris- 
 tians. 
 
 To describe his deeds would, I say, be tedious ; one day's 
 battle was like that of another. I am not writing in ten 
 volumes like Monsieur Alexandre Dumas, or even in three like 
 other great authors. We have no room for the recounting of Sir 
 Wilfrid's deeds of valor. Whenever he took a Moorish town, it 
 was remarked, that he went anxiously into the Jewish quarter, 
 and inquired amongst the Hebrews, who were in great numbers 
 in Spain, for Rebecca the daughter of Isaac. Many Jews, 
 according to his wont, he ransomed, and created so much 
 scandal by this proceeding, and by the manifest favor which he 
 showed to the people of that nation, that the Master of Saint 
 Jago remonstrated with him, and it is probable he would have 
 been cast into the Inquisition and roasted, but that his pro- 
 digious valor and success against the Moors counterbalanced 
 his heretical partiality for the children of Jacob. 
 
 It chanced that the good knight was present at the siege of 
 Xixona in Andalusia, entering the breach first, according to 
 his wont, and slaying, with his own hand, the Moorish lieutenant 
 of the town, and several hundred more of its unbelieving 
 defenders. He had very nearly done for the Alfaqui, or gov- 
 ernor — a veteran warrior with a crooked scimitar and a beard 
 as white as snow — but a couple of hundred of the Alfaqui's 
 body-guard flung themselves between Ivanhoe and their chief, 
 and the old fellow escaped with his life, leaving a handful of 
 his beard in the grasp of the English knight. The strictly 
 military business being done, and such of the garrison as did 
 not escape put, as by right, to the sword, the good knight, Sir 
 Wilfrid of Ivanhoe, took no further part in the proceedings of 
 the conquerors of that ill-fated place. A scene of horrible 
 massacre and frightful reprisals ensued, and the Christian 
 warriors, hot with victory and flushed with slaughter, were, it 
 is to be feared, as savage in their hour of triumph as ever their 
 heathen enemies had been. 
 
 Among the most violent and least scrupulous was the fero- 
 cious Knight of Sa'int Jago, Don Beltran de Cuchilla y Trabuco 
 y Espada y Espelon. Raging through the vanquished city like 
 a demon, he slaughtered indiscriminately all those infidels of 
 both sexes whose wealth did not tempt him to a ransom, or 
 whose beauty did not reserve them for more frightful calamities 
 than death. The slaug\- jr over, Don Beltran took up his 
 quarters in the Albaycen, where the Alfaqui had lived who had 
 so narrowly escaped the sword of Ivanhoe ; but the wealth, the 
 
312 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 treasure, the slaves, and the family of the fugitive chieftain, 
 were left in possession of the conqueror of Xixona. Among 
 the treasures, Don Beltran recognized with a savage joy the 
 coat-armors and ornaments of many brave and unfortunate 
 companions in-arms who had fallen in the fatal battle of Alarcos. 
 The sight of those bloody relics added fury to his cruel dis- 
 position, and served to steel a heart already but little disposed 
 to sentiments of mercy. 
 
 Three days after the sack and plunder of the place, Don 
 Beltran was seated in the hall-court lately occupied by the 
 proud Alfaqui, lying in his divan, dressed in his rich robes, the 
 fountains playing in the centre, the slaves of the Moor minister- 
 ing, to his scarred and rugged Christian conqueror. Some 
 fanned him with peacocks' pinions, some danced before him, 
 some sang Moor's melodies to the plaintive notes of a guzla, 
 one — it was the only daughter of the Moor's old age, the young 
 Zutulbe, a rosebud of beauty — sat weeping in a corner of the 
 gilded hall : weeping for her slain brethren, the pride of Moslem 
 chivalry, whose heads were blackening in the blazing sunshine 
 on the portals without, and for her father, whose home had 
 been thus made desolate. 
 
 He and his guest, the English knight Sir Wilfrid, were play- 
 ing at chess, a favorite amusement with the chivalry of the 
 period, when a messenger was announced from Valencia, to 
 treat, if possible, for the ransom of the remaining part of the 
 Alfaqui's family. A grim smile lighted up Don Beltran's 
 features as he bade the black slave admit the messenger. He 
 entered. By his costume it was at once seen that the bearer 
 of the flag of truce was a Jew — the people were employed con- 
 tinually then as ambassadors between the two races at war in 
 Spain. 
 
 " I come," said the old Jew (in a voice which made Sir 
 Wilfrid start), "from my lord the Alfaqui to my noble senor, 
 the invincible Don Beltran de Cuchilla, to treat for the ransom 
 of the Moor's only daughter, the child of his old age and the 
 pearl of his affection." 
 
 " A pearl is a valuable jewel, Hebrew*. What does the 
 Moorish dog bid for her ? " asked Don Beltran, still smiling 
 grimly. 
 
 "The Alfaqui offers 100,000 dinars, twenty-four horses with 
 their caparisons, twenty-four suits of plate-armor, and diamonds 
 and rubies to the amount of 1,000,000 dinars." 
 
 " Ho, slaves ! " roared Don Beltran, " show the Jew my 
 treasury of gold. How many hundred thousand pieces are 
 
IVANHOE THE WIDOWER. 313 
 
 there ? " And ten enormous chests were produced in which 
 the accountant counted 1,000 bags of 1,000 dirhems each, and 
 displayed several caskets of jewels containing such a treasure 
 of rubies, smaragcls, diamonds and jacinths, as made the eyes 
 of the a^ed ambassador twinkle with avarice. 
 
 " How many horses are there in my stable ? " continued 
 Don Beltran ; and Muley, the master of the horse, numbered 
 three hundred fully caparisoned ; and there was, likewise, 
 armor of the richest sort for as many cavaliers, who followed 
 the banner of this doughty captain. 
 
 " I want neither money nor armor," said the ferocious knight ; 
 " tell this to the Alfaqui, Jew. And I will keep the child, his 
 daughter, to serve the messes for my dogs, and clean the plat- 
 ters for my scullions." 
 
 " Deprive not the old man of his child," here interposed 
 the Knight of Ivanhoe ; " bethink thee, brave Don Beltran, she 
 is but an infant in years." 
 
 She is my captive, Sir Knight," replied the surly Don Bel- 
 tran ; " I will do with my own as becomes me." 
 
 r Take 200,000 dirhems!" cried the Jew; "more — any- 
 thing ! The Alfaqui will give his life for his child ! " 
 
 " Come hither, Zutulbe ! — come hither, thou Moorish pearl ! " 
 yelled the furious warrior ; " come closer, my pretty black-eyed 
 houri of heathenesse ! Hast heard the name of Beltran de 
 Espada y Trabuco ? " 
 
 " There were three brothers of that name at Alarcos, and 
 my brothers slew the Christian dogs ! " said the proud young 
 girl, looking boldly at Don Beltran, who foamed with rage. 
 
 " The Moors butchered my mother and her little ones, at 
 midnight, in our castle of Murcia," Beltran said. 
 
 " Thy father fled like a craven, as thou didst, Don Bel- 
 tran ! " cried the high-spirited girl. 
 
 " By Saint Jago, this is too much ! " screamed the infuriated 
 nobleman ; and the next moment there was a shriek, and the 
 maiden fell to the ground with Don Beltran's dagger in her 
 side. 
 
 " Death is better than dishonor ! " cried the child, rolling 
 on the blood-stained marble pavement. " I — I spit upon thee, 
 dog of a Christian ! " and with this, and with a savage laugh, 
 she fell back and died. 
 
 " Bear back this news, Jew, to the Alfaqui," howled the Don, 
 spurning the beauteous corpse with his foot. " I would not 
 have ransomed her for all the gold in Barbary ! " And shud- 
 dering, the old Jew left the apartment, which Ivanhoe quitted 
 likewise. 
 
3i4 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 When they were in the outer court, the knight said to the 
 Jew, " Isaac of York, dost thou not know me ? " and threw back 
 his hood, and looked at the old man. 
 
 The old Jew stared wildly, rushed forward, as if to seize his 
 hand, then started back, trembling convulsively, and clutching 
 his withered hands over his face, said, with a burst of grief, 
 " Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe ! — no, no ! — I do not know thee ! " 
 
 " Holy mother ! what has chanced ? " said Ivanhoe, in his 
 turn becoming ghastly pale ; " where is thy daughter — where is 
 Rebecca?" 
 
 " Away from me ! " said the old Jew, tottering. " Away ! 
 Rebecca is — dead ! " 
 
 * # * # # 
 
 When the Disinherited Knight heard that fatal announce- 
 ment, he fell to the ground senseless, and was for some days 
 as one perfectly distraught with grief. He took no nourishment 
 and uttered no word. For weeks he did not relapse out of his 
 moody silence, and when he came partially to himself again, it 
 was to bid his people to horse, in a hollow voice, and to make 
 a foray against the Moors. Day after clay he issued out against 
 these infidels, and did nought but slay and slay. He took no 
 plunder as other knights did, but left that to his followers ; he 
 uttered no war-cry, as was the manner of chivalry, and he gave 
 no quarter, insomuch that the " silent knight " became the 
 dread of all the Paynims of Granada and Andalusia, and more 
 fell by his lance than by that of any the most clamorous cap- 
 tains of the troops in arms against them. Thus the tide of bat- 
 tle turned, and the Arab historian, El Makary, recounts how, 
 at the great battle of Al Akab, called by the Spaniards Las 
 Navas, the Christians retrieved their defeat at Alarcos, and ab- 
 solutely killed half a million of Mahometans. Fifty thousand 
 of these, of course, Don Wilfrid took to his own lance ; and it 
 was remarked that the melancholy warrior seemed somewhat 
 more easy in spirits after that famous feat of arms 
 
THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE 
 
 3*5 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. 
 
 In a short time the terrible Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe had killed 
 off so many of the Moors, that though those unbelieving mis- 
 creants poured continual reinforcements into Spain from Bar- 
 bary, they could make no head against the Christian forces, and 
 in fact came into battle quite discouraged at the notion of meet- 
 ing the dreadful silent knight. It was commonly believed 
 amongst them, that the famous Malek Ric, Richard of England, 
 the conqueror of Saladin, had come to life again, and was bat- 
 tling in the Spanish hosts — that this, his second life, was a 
 charmed one, and his body inaccessible to blow of scimitar or 
 thrust of spear — that after battle he ate the hearts and drank 
 the blood of many young Moors for his supper : a thousand 
 wild legends were told of Ivanhoe, indeed, so that the Morisco 
 warriors came half vanquished into the field, and fell an easy 
 prey to the Spaniards, who cut away among them without 
 mercy. And although none of the Spanish historians whom I 
 have consulted make mention of Sir Wilfrid as the real author 
 of the numerous triumphs which now graced the arms of the 
 good cause, this is not in the least to be wondered at, in a na- 
 tion that has always been notorious for bragging, and for the 
 non-payment of their debts of gratitude as of their otl er obliga- 
 tions, and that writes histories of the Peninsular war with the 
 Emperor Napoleon, without making the slightest mention of 
 his Grace the Duke of Wellington, or of the part taken by Brit- 
 ish valor in that transaction. Well, it must be confessed, on 
 the other hand, that we brag enough of our fathers* feats in those 
 campaigns : but this is not the subject at present under con- 
 sideration. 
 
 To be brief, Ivanhoe made such short work with the unbe- 
 lievers, that the monarch of Aragon, King Don Jayme, saw 
 himself speedily enabled to besiege the city of Valencia, the 
 last stronghold which the Moors had in his dominions, and 
 garrisoned by many thousands of those infidels under the 
 command of their King Aboo Abdallah Mahommed, son of 
 Yakoob-al-Mansoor. The Arabian historian El Makary gives 
 a full account of the military precautions taken by Aboo 
 Abdallah to defend this city ; but as I do not wish to make a 
 parade of my learning, or to write a costume novel, I shall 
 
3 i6 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 pretermit any description of the city under the Moorish gov- 
 ernors. 
 
 Besides the Turks who inhabited it, there dwelt within its 
 walls great store of those of the Hebrew nation, who were 
 always protected by the Moors during their unbelieving reign in 
 Spain ; and who were, as we very well know, the chief physi- 
 cians, the chief bankers, the chief statesmen, the chief artists 
 and musicians, the chief everything, under the Moorish kings. 
 Thus it is not surprising that the Hebrews, having their money, 
 their liberty, their teeth, their lives, secure under the Mahom- 
 etan domination, should infinitely prefer it to the Christian sway ; 
 beneath which they were liable to be deprived of every one of 
 these benefits. 
 
 Among these Hebrews of Valencia, lived a very ancient 
 Israelite — no other than Isaac of York before mentioned, who 
 came into Spain with his daughter, soon after Ivanhoe's mar- 
 riage, in the third volume of the first part of this history. Isaac 
 was respected by his people for the money which he possessed, 
 and his daughter for her admirable good qualities, her beauty, 
 her charities, and her remarkable medical skill. 
 
 The young Emir Aboo Abdallah was so struck by her 
 charms, that though she was considerably older than his High- 
 ness, he offered to marry her, and install her as Number i of 
 his wives ; and Isaac of York would not have objected to the 
 union (for such mixed marriages were not uncommon between 
 the Hebrews and Moors in those days), but Rebecca firmly yet 
 respectfully declined the proposals of the prince, saying that it 
 was impossible she should unite herself with a man of a creed 
 different to her own. 
 
 Although Isaac, was, probably, not over-well pleased at 
 losing this chance of being a father-in-law to a royal highness, 
 yet as he passed among his people for a very strict character, 
 and there were in his family several rabbis of great reputation 
 and severity of conduct, the old gentleman was silenced by this 
 objection of Rebecca's, and the young lady herself applauded 
 by her relatives for her resolute behavior. She took their con- 
 gratulations in a very frigid manner, and said that it was her 
 wish not to marry at all, but to devote herself to the practice 
 of medicine altogether, and to helping the sick and needy of 
 her people. Indeed, although she did not go to any public 
 meetings, she was as benevolent a creature as the world ever 
 saw : the poor blessed her wherever they knew her, and many 
 benefited by her who guessed not whence her gentle bounty 
 came. 
 
THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. 3^ 
 
 But there are men in Jewry who admire beauty, and, as I 
 have even heard, appreciate money too, and Rebecca had such 
 a quantity of both, that all the most desirable bachelors of the 
 people were ready to bid for her. Ambassadors came from all 
 quarters to propose for her. Her own uncle, the venerable 
 Ben Solomons, with a beard as long as a Cashmere goat's, and 
 a reputation for learning and piety which still lives in his 
 nation, quarrelled with his son Moses, the red-haired diamond- 
 merchant of Trebizond, and his son Simeon, the bald bill- 
 broker of Bagdad, each putting in a claim for their cousin. 
 " Ben Minories came from London and knelt at her feet ; Ben 
 Jochanan arrived from Paris, and thought to dazzle her with 
 the latest waistcoats from the Palais Royal ; and Ben Jonah 
 brought her a present of Dutch herrings, and besought her to 
 come back and be Mrs. Ben Jonah at the Hague. 
 
 Rebecca temporized as best she might. She thought her 
 uncle was too old. She besought dear Moses and dear Simeon 
 not to quarrel with each other, and offend their father by press- 
 ing their suit. Ben Minories from London, she said, was too 
 young, and Jochanan from Paris, she pointed out to Isaac of 
 York, must be a spendthrift, or he would not wear those absurd 
 waistcoats. As for Ben Jonah, she said, she could not bear 
 the notion of tobacco and Dutch Herrings : she wished to stay 
 with her papa, her dear papa. In fine, she invented a thousand 
 excuses for delay, and it was plain that marriage was odious to 
 her. The only man whom she received with anything like 
 favor, was young Bevis Marks of London, with whom she was 
 very familiar. But Bevis had come to her with a certain token 
 that had been given to him by an English knight, who saved 
 him from a faggot to which the furious Hospitaller Folko of 
 Heydenbraten was about to condemn him. It was but a ring, 
 with an emerald in it, that Bevis knew to be sham, and not 
 worth a groat. Rebecca knew about the value of jewels too ; 
 but ah ! she valued this one more than all the diamonds in 
 Prester John's turban. She kissed it • she cried over it ; she 
 wore it in her bosom always ; and when she knelt down night 
 and morning, she held it between her folded hands on her 
 neck. * * # # Young Bevis Marks went away finally no better 
 off than the others ; the rascal sold to the King of France a 
 handsome ruby, the very size of the bit of glass in Rebecca's 
 ring ; but he always said he would rather have had her than 
 ten thousand pounds : and very likely he would, for it was 
 known she would at once have a plum to her fortune. 
 
 These delays, however, could not continue forever ; and at 
 
 21 
 
3i» 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 a great family meeting held at Passover-time. Rebecca was 
 solemnly ordered to choose a husband out of the gentlemen 
 there present ; her aunts pointing out the great kindness which 
 had been shown her by her father, in permitting her to choose 
 for herself. One aunt was of the Solomon faction, another aunt 
 took Simeon's side, a third most venerable old lady — the head 
 of the family, and a hundred and forty-four years of age — was 
 ready to pronounce a curse upon her, and cast her out, unless 
 she married before the month was over. All the jewelled 
 heads of all the old ladies in council, all the beards of all the 
 family, wagged against her : it must have been an awful sight 
 to witness. 
 
 At last, then, Rebecca was forced to speak. " Kinsmen ! " 
 she said, turning pale, " when the Prince Abou Abdil asked me 
 in marriage, I told you I would not wed but with one of my 
 own faith." 
 
 " She has turned Turk," screamed out the ladies. " She 
 wants to be a princess, and has turned Turk," roared the 
 rabbis. 
 
 " Well, well," said Isaac, in rather an appeased tone, " let 
 us hear what the poor girl has got to say. Do you want to 
 marry his royal highness, Rebecca ? Say the word, yes or no." 
 
 Another groan burst from the rabbis — they cried, shriek- 
 ed, chattered, gesticulated, furious to lose such a prize ; as 
 were the women, that she should reign over them a second 
 Esther. 
 
 " Silence," cried out Isaac ; " let the girl speak. Speak 
 boldly, Rebecca dear, there's a good girl." 
 
 Rebecca was as pale a stone. She folded her arms on 
 her breast, and felt the ring there. She looked round all the 
 assembly, and then at Isaac. " Father," she said, in a thrill- 
 ing low steady voice, "I am not of your religion — I am not 
 of the Prince Boabdil's religion — I — I am of his religion." 
 
 " His ! whose, in the name of Moses, girl ? " cried Isaac. 
 
 Rebecca clasped her hands on her beating chest and looked 
 round with dauntless eyes. " Of his," she said, •" who saved my 
 life and your honor : of my dear, dear champion's. I never 
 can be his, but Twill be no other's. Give my money to my 
 kinsmen ; it is that they long for. Take the dross, Simeon 
 and Solomon, Jonah and Jochanan, and divide it among you, 
 and leave me. I will never be yours, I tell you, never. Do 
 you think, after knowing him and hearing him speak, — after 
 watching him wounded on his pillow, and glorious in battle " 
 (her eyes melted and kindled again as she spoke these 
 
THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. 
 
 words), " I can mate with such as you ? Go. Leave me to 
 myself. I am none of yours. I love him — I love him. Fate 
 divides us — long, long miles separate us ; and I know we will 
 never meet again. But I love and bless him always. Yes, 
 always. My prayers are his ; my faith is his. Yes, my faith is 
 your faith, Wilfrid — Wilfrid ! I have no kindred more,— I am 
 a Christian ! " 
 
 At this last word there was such a row in the assembly, as 
 my feeble pen would in vain endeavor to depict. Old Isaac 
 staggered back in a fit, and nobody took the least notice of 
 him. Groans, curses, yells of men, shrieks of women, filled 
 the room with such a furious jabbering, as might have appalled 
 any heart less stout than Rebecca's ; but that brave woman 
 was prepared for all ; expecting, and perhaps hoping, that 
 death would be her instant lot. There was but one creature 
 who pitied her, and that was her cousin and father's clerk, 
 little Ben Davids, who was but thirteen, and had only just 
 begun to carry a bag, and whose crying and boo-hooing, as she 
 finished speaking, was drowned in the screams and maledictions 
 of the elder Israelites. Ben Davids was madly in love with 
 his cousin (as boys often are with ladies of twice their age), 
 and he had presence of mind suddenly to knock over the large 
 brazen lamp on the table, which illuminated the angry con- 
 clave ; then, whispering to Rebecca to go up to her own room 
 and lock herself in, or they would kill her else, he took her 
 hand and led her out. 
 
 From that day she disappeared from among her people. 
 The poor and the wretched missed her, and asked for her in 
 vain. Had any violence been done to her, the poorer Jews 
 would have risen and put all Isaac's family to death ; and 
 besides, her old flame, Prince Boabdil, would have also been 
 exceedingly wrathful. She was not killed then, but, so to 
 speak, buried alive, and locked up in Isaac's back kitchen : an 
 apartment into which scarcely any light entered, and where she 
 was fed upon scanty portions of the most mouldy bread and 
 water. Little Ben Davids was the only person who visited 
 her, and her sole consolation was to talk to him about Ivanhoe, 
 and how good and how gentle he was ; how brave and how 
 true i and how he slew the tremendous knight of the Templars, 
 and how he married a lady whom Rebecca scarcely thought 
 worthy of him, but with whom she prayed he might be happy ; 
 and of what color his eyes were, and what were the arms on 
 his shield — viz. : a tree with the word " Desdichado " written 
 underneath, &c, &c, &c. : all which talk would not have inter- 
 
320 
 
 REBECCA AND RO WEN A. 
 
 ested little Davids, had it come from anybody else's mouth, 
 but to which he never tired of listening as it fell from her 
 sweet lips. 
 
 So, in fact, when old Isaac of York came to negotiate with 
 Don Beltran de Cuchilla for the ransom of the Alfaqui's 
 daughter of Xixona, our dearest Rebecca was no more dead 
 than you and I ; and it was in his rage and fury against Ivan- 
 hoe that Isaac told that cavalier the falsehood which caused 
 the knight so much pain and such a prodigious deal of blood- 
 shed to the Moors : and who knows, trivial as it may seem, 
 whether it was not that very circumstance which caused the 
 destruction in Spain of the Moorish power ? 
 
 Although Isaac, we may be sure, never told his daughter 
 
 that Ivanhoe had cast up again, yet Master Ben Davids did, 
 
 who heard it from his employer ; and he saved Rebecca's life 
 
 by communicating the intelligence, for the poor thing would 
 
 have infallibly perished but for this good news. She had now 
 
 been in prison four years three months and twenty-four days, 
 
 during which time she had partaken of nothing but bread and 
 
 water (except such occasional tit-bits as Davids could bring 
 
 her — and these were few indeed \ for old Isaac was always a 
 
 curmudgeon, and seldom had more than a pair of eggs for his 
 
 own and Davids' dinner) ; and she was languishing away, when 
 
 the news came suddenly to revive her. Then, though in the 
 
 darkness you could not see her cheeks, they began to bloom 
 
 again : then her heart began to beat and her blood to flow, 
 
 and she kissed the ring on her neck a thousand times a day at 
 
 least ; and her constant question was, " Ben Davids ! Ben 
 
 Davids ! when is he coming to besiege Valencia ? " She knew 
 
 he would come : and, indeed, the Christians were encamped 
 
 before the town ere a month was over. 
 
 # # # * # # 
 
 And now, my dear boys and girls, I think I perceive behind 
 that dark scene of the back kitchen (which is just a simple 
 flat, painted stone-color, that shifts in a minute,) bright streaks 
 of light flashing out, as though they were preparing a most 
 brilliant, gorgeous, and altogether dazzling illumination, with 
 effects never before attempted on any stage. Yes, the fairy 
 in the pretty pink tights and spangled muslin is getting into 
 the brilliant revolving chariot of the realms of bliss. — Yes, 
 most of the fiddlers and trumpeters have gone round from the 
 orchestra to join in the grand triumphal procession, where the 
 whole strength of the company is already assembled, arrayed 
 in costumes of Moorish and Christian chivalry to • celebrate 
 
THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE. 
 
 3 21 
 
 the " Terrible Escalade," the " Rescue of Virtuous Innocence " 
 — the Grand Entry of the Christians into Valencia " — " Ap- 
 pearance of the Fairy Day-Star," and " Unexampled displays 
 of pyrotechnic festivity." Do you not, I say, perceive that we 
 are come to the end of our history ; and, after a quantity of 
 rapid and terrific fighting, brilliant change of scenery, and 
 songs, appropriate or otherwise, are bringing our hero and 
 heroine together ? Who wants a long scene at the last ? 
 Mammas are putting the girls' cloaks and boas on ; papas have 
 gone out to look for the carriage, and left the box-door swing- 
 ing open, and letting in the cold air : if there were any stage- 
 conversation, you could not hear it, for the scuffling of the 
 people who are leaving the pit. See, the orange-women are 
 preparing to retire. To-morrow their play-bills will be as so 
 much waste paper — so will some of our masterpieces, woe is 
 me : but lo ! here we come to Scene the last and Valencia is 
 besieged and captured by the Christians. 
 
 Who is the first on the wall, and who hurls down the green 
 standard of the Prophet ? Who chops off the head of the 
 Emir Aboo What-d'ye-calPim, just as the latter has cut over 
 the cruel Don Beltran de Cuchilla y, &c. ? Who, attracted to 
 the Jewish quarter by the shrieks of the inhabitants who are 
 being slain by the Moorish soldiery, and by a little boy by the 
 name of Ben Davids, who recognizes the knight by his shield, 
 finds Isaac of York egorge on a threshold, and clasping a large 
 back kitchen key ? Who but Ivanhoe — who but Wilfrid ? " An 
 Ivanhoe to the rescue," he bellows out ; he has heard that 
 news from little Ben Davids which makes him sing. And who 
 is it that comes out of the house — trembling — panting — with 
 her arms out — in a white dress — with her hair down — who is it 
 but dear Rebecca ? Look, they rush together, and Master 
 Wamba is waving an immense banner over them, and knocks 
 down a circumambient Jew with a ham, which he happens to 
 have in his pocket. * * * As for Rebecca, now her head 
 is laid upon Ivanhoe's heart, I shall not ask to hear what she 
 is whispering, or describe further that scene of meeting ; though 
 I declare I am quite affected when I think of it. Indeed 1 
 have thought of it any time these five-and-twenty years — ever 
 since, as a boy at school, I commenced the noble study of 
 novels — ever since the day when, lying on sunny slopes of half- 
 holidays, the fair chivalrous figures and beautiful shapes of 
 knights and ladies were visible to me — ever since I grew to 
 love Rebecca, that sweetest creature of the poet's fancy, and 
 longed to see her righted. 
 
322 
 
 REBECCA AND ROWENA. 
 
 That she and Ivanhoe were married, follows of course ; for 
 Rowena's promise extorted from him was, that he would never 
 wed a Jewess, and a better Christian than Rebecca now was 
 never said her catechism. Married I am sure they were, and 
 adopted little Cedric ; but I don't think they had any other 
 children, or were subsequently very boisterously happy. Of 
 some sort of happiness melancholy is a characteristic, and I 
 think these were a solemn pair, and died rather early. 
 
c 
 
 THE HISTORY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 [From a forthcoming History of Europe '.] 
 
THE HISTORY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION, 
 
 [Front a forthcoming History of Europe^\ 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 It is seldom that the historian has to record events more 
 singular than those which occurred during this year, when the 
 Crown of France was battled for by no less than four pretend- 
 ers, with equal claims, merits, bravery, and popularity. First 
 • in the list we place — His Royal Highness Louis Anthony 
 Frederick Samuel Anna-Maria, Duke of Brittany, and son of 
 Louis XVI. The unhappy Prince, when a prisoner with his 
 unfortunate parents in the Temple, was enabled to escape from 
 that place of confinement, hidden (for the treatment of the 
 ruffians who guarded him had caused the young Prince to 
 dwindle down astonishingly) in the cocked-hat of the Repre- 
 sentative, Rcederer. It is well known that, in the troublous 
 revolutionary times, cocked-hats were worn of a considerable 
 size. 
 
 He passed a considerable part of his life in Germany ; was 
 confined there for thirty years in the dungeons of Spielberg • 
 and, escaping thence to England, was, under pretence of debt, 
 but in reality from political hatred, imprisoned there also in the 
 Tower of London. He must not be confounded with any other 
 of the persons who laid claim to be children of the unfortunate 
 victim of the first Revolution. 
 
 The next claimant, Henri of Bordeaux, is better known. 
 
 (325) 
 
 V 
 
326 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 In the year 1843 he held his little fugitive court in furnished 
 lodgings, in a forgotten district of London, called Belgrave 
 Square. Many of the nobles of France flocked thither to him, 
 despising the persecutions of the occupant of the throne ; and 
 some of the chiefs of the British nobility — among whom may 
 be reckoned the celebrated and chivalrous Duke of Jenkins — 
 aided the adventurous young Prince with their counsels, their 
 wealth, and their valor. 
 
 The third candidate was his Imperial Highness Prince John 
 Thomas Napoleon — a fourteenth cousin of the late Emperor ; 
 and said by some to be a Prince of the House of Gomersal. 
 He argued justly that, as the immediate relatives of the cele- 
 brated Corsican had declined to compete for the crown which 
 was their right, he, Prince John Thomas, being next in succes- 
 sion, was, undoubtedly, heir to the vacant imperial throne. 
 And in support of his claim, he appealed to the fidelity of 
 Frenchmen and the strength of his good sword. 
 
 His Majesty Louis Philippe was, it need not be said, the 
 illustrious wielder of the sceptre which the three above-named 
 princes desired to wrest from him. It does not appear that 
 the sagacious monarch was esteemed by his subjects, as such 
 a prince should have been esteemed. The light-minded people, 
 on the contrary, were rather w r eary than otherwise of his sway. 
 They were not in the least attached to his amiable family, for 
 whom his Majesty with characteristic thrift had endeavored to 
 procure satisfactory allowances. And the leading statesmen 
 of the country, whom his Majesty had disgusted, were sus- * 
 pected of entertaining any but feelings of loyalty towards his 
 house and person. 
 
 It was against the above-named pretenders that Louis 
 Philippe (now nearly a hundred years old), a prince amongst 
 sovereigns, was called upon to defend his crown. 
 
 The city of Paris w T as guarded, as we all know, by a hundred 
 and twenty-four forts, of a thousand guns each — provisioned 
 for a considerable time, and all so constructed as to fire, if need 
 were, upon the palace of the Tuileries. Thus, should the mob 
 attack it, as in August 1792, and July 1830, the building could 
 be razed to the ground in an hour • thus, too, the capital was 
 quite secure from foreign invasion. Another defence against 
 the foreigners was the state of the roads. Since the English 
 companies had retired, half a mile only of railroad had been 
 completed in France, and thus any army accustomed, as those 
 of Europe now are, to move at sixty miles an hour, would have 
 been ennuyed to death before they could have marched from 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 the Rhenish, the Maritime, the Alpine, or the Pyrenean frontier 
 upon the capital of France. The French people, however, were 
 indignant at this defect of communication in their territory, and 
 said, without the least show of reason, that they would have 
 preferred t]iat the five hundred and seventy-five thousand 
 billions of francs which had been expended upon the fortifica^ 
 tions should have been laid out in a more peaceful manner. 
 However, behind his forts, the King lay secure. 
 
 As it is our aim to depict in as vivid a manner as possible 
 the strange events of the period, the actions, the passions of 
 individuals and parties engaged, we cannot better describe 
 them than by referring to contemporary documents, of which 
 there is no lack. It is amusing at the present day to read in 
 pages of the Moniteur and the Journal des Debats the accounts 
 of the strange scenes which took place. 
 
 The year 1884 had opened very tranquilly. The Court of 
 the Tuileries had been extremely gay. The three-and-twenty 
 youngest Princes of England, sons of her Majesty Victoria, had 
 enlivened the balls by their presence ; the Emperor of Russia 
 and family had paid their accustomed visit ; and the King of 
 the Belgians had, as usual, made his visit to his Royal father- 
 in-law, under pretence of duty and pleasure, but really to de- 
 mand payment of the Queen of the Belgians' dowry, which 
 Louis Philippe of Orleans still resolutely declined to pay. Who 
 would have thought that in the midst of such festivity danger 
 was lurking rife, in the midst of such quiet, rebellion ? 
 
 Charenton was the great lunatic asylum of Paris, and it was 
 to this repository that the scornful journalist consigned the 
 pretender to the throne of Louis XVI. 
 
 But on the next day, viz.: Saturday, the 29th February, the 
 same journal contained a paragraph of a much more startling 
 and serious import ; in which, although under a mask of care- 
 lessness, it was easy to see the Government alarm. 
 
 On Friday, the 28th February, the Journal des Debats con- 
 tained a paragraph, which did not occasion much sensation 
 at the Bourse, so absurd did its contents seem. It ran as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 " Encore un Louis XVII. ! A letter from Calais tells us 
 that a strange personage lately landed from England (from 
 Bedlam we believe) has been giving himself out to be the son 
 of the unfortunate Louis XVI. This is the twenty-fourth pre- 
 tender of the species who has asserted that his father was the 
 august victim of the Temple. . Beyond his pretensionSj the 
 poor creature is said to be pretty harmless ; he is accompanied 
 
3 28 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 by one or two old women, who declare they recognize in hirn 
 the Dauphin ; he does not make any attempt to seize upon his 
 throne by force of arms, but waits until heaven shall conduct 
 him to it. 
 
 " If his Majesty comes to Paris, we presume he will take 
 up his quarters in the palace of Charenton. 
 
 " We have not before alluded to certain rumors which have 
 been afloat (among the lowest canaille and the vilest estaminets 
 of the metropolis), that a notorious personage — why should we 
 hesitate to mention the name of the Prince John Thomas 
 Napoleon ? — has entered France with culpable intentions, and 
 revolutionary views. The Moniteur of this morning, however, 
 confirms the disgraceful fact. A pretender is on our shores j 
 an armed assassin is threatening our peaceful liberties ; a 
 wandering, homeless cutthroat is robbing on our highways ; 
 and the punishment of his crime awaits him. Let no consider- 
 ations of the past defer that just punishment J it is the duty of 
 the legislator to provide for the future. Let the full powers of 
 the law be brought against him, aided by the stern justice of 
 the public force. Let him be tracked, like a wild beast, to h' xa 
 lair, and meet the fate of one. But the sentence has, ere thL, 
 been certainly executed. The brigand, we hear, has been dis- 
 tributing (without any effect) pamphlets among the low ale- 
 houses and peasantry of the department of the Upper Rhine 
 (in which he lurks) ; and the Police have an easy means of, 
 tracking his footsteps. 
 
 " Corporal Crane, of the Gendarmerie, is on the track of 
 the unfortunate young man. His attempt will only serve to 
 show the folly of the pretenders, and the love, respect, regard, 
 fidelity, admiration, reverence, and passionate personal attach- 
 ment in which we hold our beloved sovereign." 
 
 " Second Edition ! — Capture of the Prince. 
 
 " A courier has just arrived at the Tuileries with a report 
 that after a scuffle between Corporal Crane and the ' Imperial 
 Army/ in a water-barrel, whither the latter had retreated, 
 victory has remained with the former. A desperate combat 
 ensued in the first place, in a hay-loft, whence the pretender 
 was ejected with immense loss. He is now a prisoner — and 
 we dread to think what his fate may be ! It will warn future 
 aspirants, and give Europe a lesson which it is not likely to 
 forget. Above all, it will set beyond a doubt the regard, re- 
 spect, admiration, reverence, and adoration which we all feel 
 for our sovereign." 
 
NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION 329 
 
 " Third Edition. 
 
 " A second courier has arrived. The infatuated Crane has 
 made common cause with the Prince, and forever forfeited the 
 respect of Frenchmen. A detachment of the 520th Leger has 
 marched in pursuit of the pretender and his dupes. Go, French- 
 men, go and conquer ! Remember that it is our rights you 
 guard, our homes which you march to defend ; our laws which 
 are confided to the points of your unsullied bayonets; — above 
 all, our dear, dear sovereign, around whose throne you rally ! 
 
 "Our feelings overpower us. Men of the 520th, remember 
 your watchword is Gemappes, — your countersign, Valmy." 
 
 " The Emperor of Russia and his distinguished family 
 quitted the Tuileries this day. His Imperial Majesty embraced 
 his Majesty the King of the French with tears in his eyes, and 
 conferred upon their RR. HH. the Princes of Nemours and 
 Joinville, the Grand Cross of the Older of the Blue Eagle.' ' 
 
 " His Majesty passed a review of the Police force. The 
 venerable monarch was received with deafening cheers by this 
 admirable and disinterested body of men. Those cheers were 
 echoed in all French hearts. Long, long may our beloved 
 Prince be among us to receive them ! " 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 HENRY V. AND NAPOLEON III. 
 
 Sunday, Feb. ^oih. 
 
 We resume our quotations from the Debats, which thus in- 
 troduces a third pretender to the throne : — 
 
 " Is this distracted country never to have peace ? While 
 on Friday we recorded the pretensions of a maniac to the great 
 throne of France ; while on Saturday we were compelled to 
 register the culpable attempts of one whom we regard as a 
 ruffian, murderer, swindler, forger, burglar, and common pick- 
 pocket, to gain over the allegiance of Frenchmen — it is to-day 
 our painful duty to announce a third invasion — yes, a third in- 
 vasion. The wretched, superstitious, fanatic Duke of Bordeaux 
 
THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 has landed at Nantz, and has summoned the Vendeans and 
 
 the Bretons to mount the white cockade. 
 
 " Grand Dieu ! are we not happy under the tricolor? Do 
 we not repose under the majestic shadow of the best of Kings ? 
 Is there any name prouder than that of Frenchman • any sub- 
 ject more happy than that of our sovereign? Does not the 
 whole French family adore their father ? Yes. Our lives, our 
 hearts, our blood, our fortune, are at his disposal : it was not 
 in vain that we raised, it is not the first time we have rallied 
 round, the august throne of July. The unhappy Duke is most 
 likely a prisoner by this time ; and the martial court which shall 
 be called upon to judge our infamous traitor and pretender, 
 may at the same moment judge another. Away with both ! let 
 the ditch of Vincennes (which has been already fatal to his 
 race) receive his body, too, and with it the corpse of the other 
 pretender. Thus will a great crime be wiped out of history, 
 and the names of a slaughtered martyr avenged ! 
 
 " One word more. We hear that the Duke of Jenkins ac- 
 companies the descendant of Caroline of Naples. An English 
 Duke, entendez-vous ! An English Duke, great heaven ! and 
 the Princes of England still dancing in our royal halls ! Where, 
 where will the perfidy of Albion end ? '- 
 
 " The King reviewed the third and fourth battalions of 
 Police. The usual heartrending cheers accompanied the 
 monarch, who looked younger than ever we saw him — ay, as 
 young as when he faced the Austrian cannon at Valmy and 
 scattered their squadrons at Gemappes. 
 
 " Rations of liquor, and crosses of the Legion of Honor, 
 were distributed to all the men. 
 
 " The English Princes quitted the Tuileries in twenty-three 
 coaches-and-four. They were not rewarded with crosses of the 
 Legion of Honor. This is significant." 
 
 " The Dukes of Joinville and Nemours left the palace for 
 the departments *of the Loire and Upper Rhine, where they 
 will take the command of the troops. The Joinville regiment 
 — Cuvalerie de la Marine — is one of the finest in the service." 
 
 " Orders have been given to arrest the fanatic who calls 
 himself Duke of Brittany, and who has been making some dis- 
 turbances in the Pas de Calais." 
 
 " Anecdote of His Majesty. — At the review of troops 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 331 
 
 (Police) yesterday, his Majesty, going up to one old grognard 
 and pulling him by the ear, said, ' Wilt thou have a cross or 
 another ration of wine ? ' The old hero, smiling archly, an- 
 swered, * Sire, a brave man can gain a cross any day of battle, 
 but it is hard for him sometimes to get a drink of wine/ We 
 need not say that he had his drink, and the generous sovereign 
 sent him the cross and ribbon too." 
 
 On the next day, the Government journals begin to write in 
 rather a despondent tone regarding the progress of the pre- 
 tenders to the throne. In spite of their big talking, anxiety is 
 clearly manifested, as appears from the following remarks of 
 the Debats : 
 
 " The courier from the Rhine department," say the Debats, 
 " brings us the following astounding Proclamation : — 
 
 " ' Strasburg, xxii. Nivose : Decadi. 92nd year of the Re- 
 public, one and indivisible. We, John Thomas Napoleon, by 
 the constitutions of the Empire, Emperor of the French Re- 
 public, to our marshals, generals, officers, and soldiers, greeting : 
 
 " < Soldiers ! 
 
 " * From the summit of the Pyramids forty centuries look 
 down upon you. The sun of Austerlitz has risen once more. 
 The Guard dies, but never surrenders. My eagles, flying from 
 steeple to steeple, never shall droop till they perch on the 
 towers of Notre Dame. 
 
 " 6 Soldiers ! the child of your father has remained long in 
 exile. I have seen the fields of Europe where your laurels are 
 now withering, and I have communed with the dead who repose 
 beneath them. They ask Wxiere are our children ? Where is 
 France ? Europe no longer glitters with the shine of its tri- 
 umphant bayonets — echoes no more with the shouts of its vic- 
 torious cannon. Who could reply to such a question save with 
 a blush ? — And does a blush become the cheeks of Frenchmen ? 
 
 " ' No. Let us wipe from our faces that degrading mark of 
 shame. Come, as of old, and rally round my eagles ! You 
 have been subject to fiddling prudence long enough. Come, 
 worship now at the shrine of Glory ! You have been promised 
 liberty, but you have had none. I will endow you with the 
 true, the real freedom. When your ancestors burst over the 
 Alps, were they not free ? Yes « free to conquer. Let us 
 imitate the example of those indomitable myriads ; and, fling- 
 ing a defiance to Europe, once more trample over her ; march 
 in triumph into her prostrate capitals, and bring her kings with 
 
332 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 her treasures at our feet. This is the liberty worthy of 
 Frenchmen. 
 
 " ' Frenchmen ! I promise you that the Rhine shall be 
 restored to you ; and that England shall rank no more among 
 the nations. I will have a marine that shall drive her ships 
 from the seas ; a few of my brave regiments will do the rest. 
 Henceforth the traveller in that desert island shall ask, " Was 
 it this wretched corner of the world that for a thousand years 
 defied Frenchmen } " 
 
 " ' Frenchmen, up and rally ! — I have flung my banner to 
 the breezes ; 'tis surrounded by the faithful and the brave. Up, 
 and let our motto be, Liberty, Equality, War all over the 
 World ! 
 
 " ' Napoleon III. 
 
 " ' The Marshal of the Empire, Haricot/ 
 
 " Such is the Proclamation ! such the hopes that a brutal- 
 minded and bloody adventurer holds out to our country. ' W T ar 
 all over the world/ is the cry of the savage demon ; and the 
 fiends who have rallied round him echo it in concert. We were 
 not, it appears, correct in stating that a corporal's guard had 
 been sufficient to seize upon the marauder, when the first fire 
 would have served to conclude his miserable life. But, like a 
 hideous disease, the contagion has spread ; the remedy must 
 be dreadful. Woe to those on whom it will fall ! 
 
 - " His Royal Highness the Prince of Joinville, Admiral of 
 France, has hastened, as we before stated, to the disturbed dis- 
 tricts, and takes with him his Cavalerie de la Marine. It is hard 
 to think that the blades of those chivalrous heroes must be 
 buried in the bosoms of Frenchmen : but so be it : it is those 
 monsters who have asked for blood, not we. It is those ruffians 
 who have begun the quarrel, not we. We remain calm and 
 hopeful, reposing under the protection of the dearest and best 
 of sovereigns. 
 
 " The wretched pretender, who called himself Duke of Brit- 
 tanny, has been seized, according to our prophecy : he was 
 brought before the Prefect of Police yesterday, and his insanity 
 being proved beyond a doubt, he has been consigned to a strait- 
 waistcoat at Charenton. So may all incendiary enemies of our 
 Government be overcome ! 
 
 " His Royal Highness the Duke of Nemours is gone into 
 the department of the Loire, where he will speedily put an end 
 to the troubles in the disturbed districts of the Bocage and La 
 Vendee. The foolish young Prince, who has there raised his 
 
NEXT FRENCH RE VOLUTION 
 
 333 
 
 standard, is followed, we hear, by a small number of wretched 
 persons, of whose massacre we expect every moment to receive 
 the news. He too has issued his Proclamation, and our readers 
 will smile at its contents : 
 
 " ' We, Henry, Fifth of the Name, King of France and 
 Navarre, to all whom it may concern, greeting : 
 
 " 6 After years of exile we have once more unfurled in France 
 the banner of the lilies. Once more the white plume of Henri 
 IV. floats in the crest of his little son {petit fils) ! Gallant 
 nobles! worthy burgesses! honest commons of my realm, I 
 call upon you to rally round the oriflamme of France, and sum- 
 mon the ban arriereban of my kingdoms. To my faithful Bri- 
 tons I need not appeal. The country of Duguesclin has loyalty 
 for an heirloom ! To the rest of my subjects, my atheist mis- 
 guided subjects, their father makes one last appeal. Come 
 to me, my children ! your errors shall be forgiven. Our Holy 
 Father, the Pope, shall intercede for you. He promised it 
 when, before my departure on this expedition, I kissed his in- 
 violable toe ! 
 
 " i Our afflicted country cries aloud for reforms. The infa- 
 mous universities shall be abolished. Education shall no longer 
 be permitted. A sacred and wholesome inquisition shall be 
 established. My faithful nobles shall pay no more taxes. All 
 the venerable institutions of our country shall be restored as 
 they existed before 1788. Convents and monasteries again shall 
 ornament our country, — the calm nurseries of saints and holy 
 women ! Heresy shall be extirpated with paternal severity, and 
 our country shall be free once more. 
 
 " 6 His Majesty the King of Ireland, my august ally, has 
 sent, under the command of His Royal Highness Prince Daniel, 
 his Majesty's youngest son, an irresistible Irish Brigade, to 
 co-operate in the good work. His Grace the Lion of Judah, 
 the canonized patriarch of Tuam, blessed their green banner 
 before they set forth. Henceforth may the lilies and the harp 
 be ever twined together. Together we will make a crusade 
 against the infidels of Albion, and raze their heretic domes to 
 the ground. Let our cry be, Vive la France! down with Eng- 
 land ! Montjoie St. Denis ! 
 
 " ' By the King. 
 "'The Secretary of State 
 
 and Grand Inquisitor.... La Roue. 
 The Marshal of France.... Pompadour de l'Aile dr 
 
 Pigeon. 
 
 22 
 
334 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 The General Commander- 
 in-chief of the Irish 
 Brigade in the service 
 of his Most Christian 
 
 Majesty Daniel, Prince of Bally- 
 
 bunion. 
 ' HENRI.' " 
 
 " His Majesty reviewed the admirable Police force, and held 
 a council of Ministers in the afternoon: Measures were con- 
 certed for the instant putting down of the disturbances in the 
 departments of the Rhine and Loire, and it is arranged that on 
 the capture of the pretenders, they shall be lodged in separate 
 cells in the prison of the Luxembourg : the apartments are 
 already prepared, and the officers at their posts. 
 
 " The grand banquet that was to be given at the palace to- 
 day to the diplomatic body, has been put off • all the ambassa- 
 dors being attacked with illness, which compels them to stay at 
 home." 
 
 "The ambassadors despatched couriers to their various 
 Governments." 
 
 " His Majesty the King of the Belgians left the palace of the 
 Tuileries." 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 THE ADVANCE OF THE PRETENDERS — HISTORICAL REVIEW. 
 
 We will now resume the narrative, and endeavor to com- 
 press, in a f.ew comprehensive pages^ the facts which are more 
 diffusely described in the print from which we have quoted. 
 
 It was manifest, then, that the troubles in the departments 
 were of a serious nature, and that the forces gathered round 
 the two pretenders to the crown were considerable. They had 
 their supporters too in Paris, — as what party indeed has not ? 
 and the venerable occupant of the throne was in a state of con- 
 siderable anxiety, and found his declining years by no means so 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 335 
 
 comfortable as his virtues and great age might have war- 
 ranted. 
 
 His paternal heart was the more grieved when he thought 
 of the fate reserved to his children, grandchildren, and great- 
 grandchildren, now sprung up around him in vast numbers. 
 The King's grandson., the Prince Royal, married to a Princess 
 of the house of Schlippen-Schloppen, was the father of fourteen 
 children, all handsomely endowed with pensions by the State. 
 His brother, the Count D'Eu, was similarly blessed with a mul- 
 titudinous offspring. The Duke of Nemours had no children ; 
 but the Princes of Joinville, Aumale, and Montpensier (married 
 to the Princesses Januaria and Februaria, of Brazil, and the 
 Princess of the United States of America, erected into a mon- 
 archy, 4th July, 1856, under the Emperor Duff Green I.) were 
 the happy fathers of immense families — all liberally apportioned 
 by the Chambers, which had long been entirely subservient to 
 his Majesty Louis Philippe. 
 
 The Duke of Aumale was King of Algeria, having married 
 (in the first instance) the Princess Badroulboudour, a daughter 
 of his Highness Abd-El-Kader. The Prince of Joinville was 
 adored by the nation, on account of his famous victory over the 
 English fleet under the command of Admiral the Prince of 
 Wales, whose ship, the "Richard Cobden," of 120 guns, was 
 taken by the " Belle-Poule " frigate of 36 : on which occasion 
 forty-five other ships of war and seventy-nine steam- frigates 
 struck their colors to about one-fourth the number of the heroic 
 French navy. The victory was mainly owing to the gallantry 
 of the celebrated French horse-marines, who executed several 
 brilliant charges under the orders of the intrepid Joinville ; and 
 though the Irish Brigade, with their ordinary modesty, claimed 
 the honors of the day, yet, as only three of that nation were 
 present in the action, impartial history must award the palm to 
 the intrepid sons of Gaul. 
 
 With so numerous a family quartered on the nation, the 
 solicitude of the admirable King may be conceived, lest a rev- 
 olution should ensue, and fling them on the world once more. 
 How could he support so numerous a family ? Considerable 
 as his wealth was, (for he was known to have amassed about a 
 hundred and thirteen billions, which were lying in the caves of 
 the Tuileries,) yet such a sum was quite insignificant when di- 
 vided among his progeny ; and, besides, he naturally preferred 
 getting from the nation as much as his faithful people could 
 possibly afford. 
 
 Seeing the imminency of the danger, and that money, well 
 
33& 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 applied, is often more efficacious than the conqueror's sword, 
 the King's Ministers were anxious that he should devote a part 
 of his savings to the carrying on of the war. But, with the 
 cautiousness of age, the monarch declined this offer ■ he pre- 
 ferred, he said, throwing himself upon his faithful people, who, 
 he was sure, would meet, as became them, the coming exigency. 
 The Chambers met his appeal with their usual devotion. At a 
 solemn convocation of those legislative bodies, the King, sur- 
 rounded by his family, explained the circumstances and the 
 danger. His Majesty, his family, his Ministers, and the two 
 Chambers, then burst into tears, according to immemorial 
 usage, and raising their hands to the ceiling, swore eternal 
 fidelity to the dynasty and to France, and embraced each other 
 afTectingly all round. 
 
 It need not be said that in the course of that evening two 
 hundred Deputies of the Left left Paris, and joined the Prince 
 John Thomas Napoleon, who was now advanced as far as 
 Dijon : two hundred and fifty-three (of the Right, the Centre, 
 and Round the Corner,) similarly quitted the capital to pay 
 their homage to the Duke of Bordeaux. They were followed, 
 according to their several political predilections, by the various 
 Ministers and dignitaries of State. The only Minister who 
 remained in Paris was Marshal Thiers, Prince of Waterloo (he 
 had defeated the English in the very field where they had 
 obtained formerly a success, though the victory was as usual 
 claimed by the Irish Brigade) ; but age had ruined the health 
 and diminished the immense strength of that gigantic leader, 
 and it is said his only reason for remaining in Paris was because 
 a fit of the gout kept him in bed. 
 
 The capital was entirely tranquil. The theatres and cafes 
 were open as usual, and the masked balls attended with great 
 enthusiasm : confiding in their hundred and twenty-four forts, 
 the light-minded people had nothing to fear. 
 
 Except in the way of money, the King left nothing undone 
 to conciliate his people. He even went among them with his 
 umbrella ; but they were little touched with that mark of confi- 
 dence. He shook hands with everybody ; he distributed crosses 
 of the Legion of Honor in such multitudes, that red ribbon 
 rose two hundred per cent, in the market (by which his Majesty, 
 who speculated in the article, cleared a tolerable sum of money). 
 But these blandishments and honors had little effect upon an 
 apathetic people ; and the enemy of the Orleans dynasty, the 
 fashionable young nobles of the Henriquinquiste party, wore 
 gloves perpetually, for fear (they said) that they should be 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 337 
 
 obliged to shake hands with the best of kings ; while the 
 Republicans adopted coats without button-holes, lest they 
 should be forced to hang red ribbons in them. The funds did 
 not fluctuate in the least. 
 
 The proclamations of the several pretenders had had their 
 effect. The young men of the schools and the estaminets 
 (celebrate^ places of public education) allured by the noble 
 words of Prince Napoleon, " Liberty, equality, war all over the 
 world ! " flocked to his standard in considerable numbers : while 
 the noblesse naturally hastened to offer their allegiance to the 
 legitimate descendant of Saint Louis. 
 
 And truly, never was there seen a more brilliant chivalry 
 than that collected round the gallant Prince Henry ! There 
 was not a man in his army but had lackered boots and fresh 
 white kid-gloves at morning and evening parade. The fantastic 
 and effeminate but brave and faithful troops were numbered off 
 into different legions : there was the Fleur-d'Orange regiment ; 
 the Eau-de-Rose battalion ; the Violet-Pomatum volunteers ; 
 the Eau-de-Cologne cavalry — according to the different scents 
 which they affected. Most of the warriors wore lace ruffles ; 
 all powder and pigtails, as in the real days of chivalry. A 
 band of heavy dragoons under the command of Count Alfred 
 de Horsay made themselves conspicuous for their discipline, 
 cruelty, and the admirable cut of their coats • and with these 
 celebrated horsemen came from England the illustrious Duke 
 of Jenkins with his superb footmen. They were all six feet 
 high. They all wore bouquets of the richest flowers : they wore 
 bags, their hair slightly powdered, brilliant shoulder-knots, and 
 cocked-hats laced with gold. They wore the tight knee- 
 pantaloon of velveteen peculiar to this portion of the British 
 infantry; and their legs were so superb, that the Duke of Bor- 
 deaux, embracing. with tears their admirable leader on parade, 
 said, " Jenkins, France never saw such calves until now." The 
 weapon of this tremendous militia was an immense club, or 
 cane, reaching from the sole of the foot, to the nose, and heavily 
 mounted with gold. Nothing could stand before this terrific 
 weapon, and the breastplates and plumed morions of the 
 French cuirassiers would have been undoubtedly crushed 
 beneath them, had they ever met in mortal combat. Between 
 this part of the Prince's forces and the Irish auxiliaries there 
 was a deadly animosity. Alas, there always is such i<n camps ! 
 The sons of Albion had not forgotten the day when the children 
 of Erin had been subject to their devastating sway. 
 
 The uniform of the latter was various — the rich stuff called 
 
338 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 corfis-du-roy (worn by Cceur de Lion at Agincourt) formed their 
 lower habiliments for the most part : the national frieze * 
 yielded them tailcoats. The latter were generally torn in a 
 fantastic manner at the elbows, skirts, and collars, and fastened 
 with every variety of button, tape, and string. Their weapons 
 were the caubeen, the alpeen, and the doodeen of the country 
 — the latter a short but dreadful weapon of offense. At the 
 demise of the venerable Theobald Mathew, the nation had laid 
 aside its habit of temperance, and universal intoxication be- 
 tokened their grief ; it became afterwards their constant habit. 
 Thus do men ever return to the haunts of their childhood ; such 
 a power has fond memory over us ! The leaders of this host 
 seem to have been, however, an effeminate race ; they are 
 represented by contemporary historians as being passionately 
 fond of flying kites. Others say they went into battle armed 
 with " bills/' no doubt rude weapons • for it is stated that 
 foreigners could never be got to accept them in lieu of their 
 own arms. The Princes of Mayo, Donegal, and Connemara, 
 marched by the side of their young and royal chieftain, the 
 Prince of Ballybunion, fourth son of Daniel the First, King of 
 the Emerald Isle. 
 
 Two hosts then, one under the Eagles, and surrounded by 
 the republican imperialists, the other under the antique French 
 Lilies, were marching on the French capital. The Duke of 
 Brittany, too, confined in the lunatic asylum of Charenton, 
 found means to issue a protest against his captivity, which 
 caused only derision in the capital. Such was the state of the 
 empire, and such the clouds that were gathering round the Sun 
 of Orleans ! 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF RHEIMS. 
 
 It was not the first time that the King had had to undergo 
 misfortunes ; and now, as then, he met them like a man. The 
 Prince of Joinville was not successful in his campaign against 
 the Imperial Pretender : and that bravery which had put the 
 British fleet to flight, was found, as might be expected, insuffi- 
 
 * Were these in any way related to the Chevaux-de-frise on which the French Cavalry 
 were mounted ? 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 339 
 
 cient against the irresistible courage of native Frenchmen. 
 The Horse Marines, not being on their own element, could not 
 act with their usual effect. Accustomed to the tumult of the 
 swelling seas, they were easily unsaddled on terra Jirma and in 
 the champagne country. 
 
 It was literally in the Champagne country that the meeting 
 between the troops under Joinville and Prince Napoleon took 
 place ! for both armies had reached Rheims, and a terrific 
 battle was fought underneath the walls. For sometime nothing 
 could dislodge the army of Joinville, entrenched in the cham- 
 pagne cellars of Messrs. Ruinart, Moet, and others ; but 
 making too free with the fascinating liquor, the army at length 
 became entirely drunk : on which the Imperialists, rushing into 
 the cellars, had an easy victory over them ; and, this done, 
 proceeded to intoxicate themselves likewise. 
 
 The Prince of Joinville, seeing the deroute of his troops, 
 was compelled with a few faithful followers to fly towards Paris, 
 and Prince Napoleon remained master of the field of battle. 
 It is needless to recapitulate the bulletin which he published 
 the day after the occasion, so soon as he and his secretaries 
 were in a condition to write : eagles, pyramids, rainbows, the 
 sun of Austerlitz, &c, figured in the proclamation, in close im- 
 itation of his illustrious uncle. But the great benefit of the 
 action was this : on arousing from their intoxication, the late 
 soldiers of Joinville kissed and embraced their comrades of the 
 Imperial army, and made common cause with them. 
 
 " Soldiers ! " said the Prince, on reviewing them the second 
 day after the action, " the Cock is a gallant bird ; but he makes 
 way for the Eagle ! Your colors are not changed. Ours floated 
 on the walls of Moscow — yours on the ramparts of Constantine ; 
 both are glorious. Soldiers of Joinville ! we give you welcome, 
 as we would welcome your illustrious leader, who destroyed the 
 fleets of Albion. Let him join us ! We will march together 
 against that perfidious enemy. 
 
 " But, Soldiers ! intoxication dimmed the laurels of yester- 
 day's glorious day ! Let us drink no more of the fascinating 
 liquors of our native Champagne. Let us remember Hannibal 
 and Capua ; and, before we plunge into dissipation, that we 
 have Rome still to conquer ! 
 
 " Soldiers ! Seltzer-water is good after too much drink. 
 Wait awhile, and your Emperor will lead you into a Seltzer- 
 water country. Frenchmen ! it lies beyond the Rhine ! " 
 
 Deafening shouts of " Vive I ' Empereur /" saluted this allu- 
 sion of the Prince, and the army knew that their natural boun- 
 
34° 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 dary should be restored to them. The compliments to the 
 gallantry of the Prince of Joinville likewise won all hearts, and 
 immensely advanced the Prince's cause. The Journal des 
 Debats did not know which way to turn. In one paragraph it 
 called the Emperor " a sanguinary tyrant, murderer, and pick- 
 pocket ; " in a second it owned he was " a magnanimous rebel, 
 and worthy of forgiveness; " and, after proclaiming " the bril- 
 liant victory of the Prince of Joinville," presently denominated 
 it a "funeste journee" 
 
 The next day the Emperor, as we may now call him, was 
 about to march on Paris, when Messrs. Ruinartand Moet were 
 presented, and requested to be paid for 300,000 bottles of wine. 
 "Send three hundred thousand more to the Tuileries," said the 
 Prince, sternly : " our soldiers will be thirsty when they reach 
 Paris." And taking Moet with him as a hostage, and promis- 
 ing Ruinart that he would have him shot unless he obeyed, 
 with trumpets playing and eagles glancing in the sun, the 
 gallant Imperial army marched on their triumphant way. 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF TOURS. 
 
 We have now to record the expedition of the Prince of 
 Nemours against his advancing cousin, Henry V. His Royal 
 Highness could not march against the enemy with such a force 
 as he would have desired to bring against them ; for his royal 
 father, wisely remembering the vast amount of property he had 
 stowed away under the Tuileries, refused to allow a single 
 soldier to quit the forts round the capital, which thus was de- 
 fended by one hundred and forty-four thousand guns (eighty- 
 four-pounders), and four hundred and thirty-two thousand 
 men : — little enough, when one considers that there were but 
 three men to a gun. To provision this immense army, and a 
 population of double the amount within the walls, his Majesty 
 caused the country to be scoured for fifty miles round, and left 
 neither ox, nor ass, nor blade of grass. When appealed to by 
 the inhabitants of the plundered district, the royal Philip re- 
 plied, with tears in his eyes, that his heart bled for them — that 
 they were his children — that every cow taken from the meanest 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 341 
 
 peasant was like a limb torn from his own body • but that duty 
 must be done, that the interests of the country demanded the 
 sacrifice, and that in fact they might go to the deuce. This 
 the unfortunate creatures certainly did. 
 
 The theatres went on as usual within the walls. The 
 Journals des Debats stated every day that the pretenders were 
 taken : the Chambers sat — such as remained — and talked im- 
 mensely about honor, dignity, and the glorious revolution of 
 July • and the King, as his power was now pretty nigh absolute 
 over them, thought this a good opportunity to bring in a bill 
 for doubling his children's allowance all round. 
 
 Meanwhile the Duke of Nemours proceeded on his march • 
 and as there was nothing left within fifty miles of Paris where- 
 with to support his famished troops, it may be imagined that 
 he was forced to ransack the next fifty miles in order to main- 
 tain them. He did so. But the troops were not such as they 
 should have been, considering the enemy with whom they had 
 to engage. 
 
 The fact is, that most of the Duke's army consisted of the 
 National Guard ; who, in a fit of enthusiasm, and at the cry of 
 "la patrie en danger " having been induced to volunteer, had 
 been eagerly accepted by his Majesty, anxious to lessen as much 
 as possible the number of food-consumers in his beleaguered 
 capital. It is said even that he selected the most gormandizing 
 battalions of the civic force to send forth against the enemy, viz. : 
 the grocers, the rich bankers, the lawyers, &c. Their parting with 
 their families was very affecting. They would have been very 
 willing to recall their offer of marching, but companies of stern 
 veterans closing round them, marched them to the city gates, 
 which were closed upon them ; and thus perforce they were 
 compelled to move on. As long as he had a bottle of brandy 
 and a couple of sausages in his holsters, the General of the 
 National Guard, Odillon Barrot, talked with tremendous cour- 
 age. Such was the power of his eloquence over the troops, 
 that, could he have come up with the enemy while his victuals 
 lasted, the issue of the combat might have been very different. 
 But in the course of the first day's march he finished both the 
 sausages and the brandy, and became quite uneasy, silent, and 
 crest-fallen. 
 
 It was on the fair plains of Touraine, by the banks of silver 
 Loire, that the armies sat down before each other, and the bat- 
 tle was to take place which had such an effect upon the for- 
 tunes of France. 'Twas a brisk day of March : the practised 
 valor of Nemours showed him at once what use to make of the 
 
342 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 army under his orders, and having enfiladed his National 
 Guard battalions, and placed his artillery in echelons, he formed 
 his cavalry into hollow squares on the right and left of his line, 
 flinging out a cloud of howitzers to fall back upon the main 
 column. His veteran infantry he formed behind his National 
 Guard — politely hinting to Odillon Barrot, who wished to retire 
 under pretence of being exceedingly unwell, that the regular 
 troops would bayonet the National Guard if they gave way an 
 inch : on which their General, turning very pale, demurely 
 went back to his post. His men were dreadfully discouraged ; 
 they had slept on the ground all night ; they regretted their 
 homes and their comfortable nightcaps in the Rue St. Honore : 
 they had luckily fallen in with a flock of sheep and a drove of 
 oxen at Tours the day before ; but what were these compared 
 to the delicacies of Chevet's or three courses at Vefour's ? 
 They mournfully cooked their steaks and cutlets on their ram- 
 rods, and passed a most wretched night. 
 
 The army of Henry was encamped opposite to them, for the 
 most part in better order. The noble cavalry regiments found 
 a village in which they made themselves pretty comfortable, 
 Jenkins's Foot taking possession of the kitchens and garrets of 
 the buildings. The Irish Brigade, accustomed to lie abroad, 
 were quarted in some potato-fields, where they sang Moore's 
 melodies all night. There were, besides the troops regular and 
 irregular, about three thousand priests and abbes with the army, 
 armed with scourging-whips, and chanting the most lugubrious 
 canticles : these reverend men were found to be a hindrance 
 rather than otherwise to the operations of the regular forces. 
 
 It was a touching sight, on the morning before the battle, to 
 see the alacrity with which Jenkins's regiment sprung up at the 
 first reveille of the bell, and engaged (the honest fellows !) in 
 offices almost menial for the benefit of their French allies. 
 The Duke himself set the example, and blacked to a nicety the 
 boots of Henri. At half-past ten, after coffee, the brilliant 
 warriors of the cavalry were ready ; their clarions rung to horse, 
 their banners were given to the wind, their shirt-collars 
 were exquisitely starched, and the whole air was scented with 
 the odors of their pomatums and pocket-handkerchiefs. 
 
 Jenkins had the honor of holding the stirrup for. Henri. 
 " My faithful Duke ! " said the Prince, pulling him by the 
 shoulder-knot, "thou art always at thy Post." "Here, as in 
 Wellington Street, sire," said the hero, blushing. And the 
 Prince made an appropriate speech to his chivalry, in which 
 allusions to the lilies, St. Louis, Bayard and Henri Quatre, 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 343 
 
 were, as may be imagined, not spared. " Ho ! standard-bearer ! n 
 the Prince concluded, " fling out my oriflamme. Noble gents 
 of France, your King is among you to-day ! " 
 
 Then turning to the Prince of Ballybunion, who had been 
 drinking whiskey-punch all night with the Princes of Donegal 
 and Connemara, " Prince," he said, "the Irish Brigade has 
 won every battle in the French history — we will not deprive you 
 of the honor of winning this. You will please to commence 
 the attack with your brigade. " Bending his head until the 
 green plumes of his beaver mingled with the mane of the Shet- 
 land pony which he rode, the Prince of Ireland trotted off with 
 his aides -de-cainp ; who rode the same horses, powerful grays, 
 with which a dealer at Nantz had supplied them on their and 
 the Prince's joint bill at three months. 
 
 The gallant sons of Erin had wisely slept until the last 
 minute in their potato-trenches, but rose at once at the sum- 
 mons of their beloved Prince. Their toilet was the work of a 
 moment — a single shake and it was done. Rapidly forming 
 into a line, they advanced headed by their Generals, — who, 
 turning their steeds into a grass-field, wisely determined to fight 
 on foot. Behind them came the line of British foot under the 
 illustrious Jenkins, who marched in advance perfectly collected, 
 and smoking a Manilla cigar. The cavalry were on the right 
 and left of the infantry, prepared to act in pontoon, in echelon, 
 or in 7'icochet, as occasion might demand. The Prince rode 
 behind, supported by his Staff, who were almost all of them 
 bishops, archdeacons, or abbes ; and the body of ecclesiastics 
 followed, singing to the sound, or rather howl, of serpents and 
 trombones, the Latin canticles of the Reverend Franciscus 
 O'Mahony, lately canonized under the name of Saint Francis 
 of Cork. 
 
 The advanced lines of the two contending armies were now 
 in presence — the National Guard of Orleans and the Irish Bri- 
 gade. The white belts and fat paunches of the Guard pre- 
 sented a terrific appearance ; but it might have been remarked 
 by the close observer, that their faces were as white as their 
 belts, and the long line of their bayonets might be seen to 
 quiver. General Odillon Barrot, with a cockade as large as a 
 pancake, endeavored to make a speech : the words honneur, 
 fatrie, Francais, champ de bataille might be distinguished ; but 
 the General was dreadfully flustered, and was evidently more 
 at home in the Chamber of Deputies than in the field of war. 
 
 The Prince of Ballybunion, for a wonder, did not make a 
 speech. "Boys," said he, "we've enough talking at the Corn 
 
344 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 Exchange ; bating's the word now." The Green-Islanders r& 
 plied with a tremendous hurroo, which sent terror into the fat 
 bosoms of the French. 
 
 " Gentlemen of the National Guard," said the Prince, tak- 
 ing off his hat and bowing to Odillon Barrot, "will ye be so 
 igsthramely obleeging as to fire first." This he said because 
 it had been said at Fontenoy, but chiefly because his own men 
 were only armed with shillelaghs, and therefore could not fire. 
 
 But this proposal was very unpalatable to the National 
 Guardsmen : for though they understood the musket-exercise 
 pretty well, firing was the thing of all others they detested— 
 the noise, and the kick of the gun, and the smell of the powder 
 being very unpleasant to them. " We won't fire," said Odillon 
 Barrot, turning round to Colonel Saugrenue and his regiment 
 of the line — which, it may be remembered, was formed behind 
 the National Guard. 
 
 "Then give them the bayonet," said the Colonel, with a 
 terrrific oath. " Charge, corbleu ! " 
 
 At this moment, and with the most dreadful howl that ever 
 was heard-, the National Guard was seen to rush forward wildly, 
 and with immense velocity, towards the foe. The fact is, that 
 the line regiment behind them, each selecting his man, gave 
 a poke with his bayonet between the coat-tails of the Nation- 
 als, and those troops bounded forwards with an irresistible 
 swiftness. 
 
 Nothing could withstand the tremendous impetus of that 
 manoeuvre. The Irish Brigade was scattered before it, as chaff 
 before the wind. The Prince of Ballybunion had barely time to 
 run Odillon Barrot. through the body, when he too was borne 
 away in the swift route. They scattered tumultuously, and fled 
 for twenty miles without stopping. The Princes of Donegal 
 and Connemara were taken prisoners ; but though they offered 
 to give bills at three months, and for a hundred thousand 
 pounds, for their ransom, the offer was refused, and they were 
 sent to the rear; when the Duke of Nemours, hearing they 
 were Irish Generals, and that they had been robbed of their 
 ready money by his troops, who had taken them prisoners, 
 caused a comfortable breakfast to be supplied to them, and 
 lent them each a sum of money. How generous are men in 
 success ! — the Prince of Orleans was charmed with the conduct 
 of his National Guards, and thought his victory secure. He 
 despatched a courier to Paris with the brief words, " We met 
 the enemy before Tours. The National Guard has done its 
 duty. The troops of the pretender are routed. Vive le Roil" 
 
V 
 
 NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION 345 
 
 The note, you may be sure, appeared in the Journal des Debats, 
 and the editor, who only that morning had called Henri V. " a 
 great prince, an august exile," denominated him instantly a 
 murderer, slave, thief cutthroat, pickpocket, and burglar. 
 
 Chapter VI. 
 
 THE ENGLISH UNDER JENKINS. 
 
 But the Prince had not calculated that there was a line of 
 Sritish infantry behind the routed Irish Brigade. Borne on 
 with the hurry of the melee, flushed with triumph, puffing and 
 blowing with running, and forgetting, in the intoxication of 
 victory, the trifling bayonet-pricks which had impelled them to 
 the charge, the conquering National Guardsmen found them- 
 selves suddenly in the presence of Jenkins's Foot. 
 
 They halted all in a huddle, like a flock of sheep. 
 
 " Up, Foot, and at them!" were the memorable words of 
 the Duke Jenkins, as, waving his baton, he pointed towards the 
 /enemy, and with a tremendous shout the stalwart sons of Eng- 
 land rushed on ! — Down went plume and cocked-hat, down 
 went corporal and captain, down went grocer and tailor, under 
 the long staves of the indomitable English Footmen. " A Jen- 
 kins ! a Jenkins ! " roared the Duke, planting a blow which 
 broke the aquiline nose of Major Arago, the celebrated astron- 
 omer. " St. George for May Fair ! " shouted his followers, 
 strewing the plain with carcases. Not a man of the Guard 
 escaped ; they fell like grass before the mower. 
 
 "They are gallant troops, those yellow-plushed Anglais," 
 ^aid the Duke of Nemours, surveying them with his opera-glass. 
 • " 'Tis a pity they will all be cut up in half an hour. Concombre ! 
 take your dragoons, and do it ! " " Remember Waterloo, 
 boys ! " said Colonel Concombre, twirling his mustache, and a 
 thousand sabres flashed in the sun, and the gallant hussars 
 prepared to attack the Englishmen. 
 
 Jenkins, his gigantic form leaning on his staff, and surveying 
 the havoc of the field, was instantly aware of the enemy's 
 manoeuvre. His people were employed rifling the pockets of 
 the National Guard, and had made a tolerable booty, when the 
 great Duke, taking a bell out of his pocket (it was used fof 
 
34^ 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 signals in his battalion in place of fife or bugle), speedily called 
 his scattered warriors together. " Take the muskets of the 
 Nationals," said he. They did so. " Form in square and pre* 
 pare to receive cavalry 1 " By the time Concombre's regiment 
 arrived, he found a square of bristling bayonets with Britons 
 behind them ! 
 
 The Colonel did not care to attempt to break that tre- 
 mendous body. "Halt ! " said he to his men. 
 
 " Fire ! " screamed Jenkins, with eagle swiftness ; but the 
 guns of the National Guard not being loaded, did not in con- 
 sequence go off. The hussars gave a jeer of derision, but 
 nevertheless did not return to the attack, and seeing some of 
 the Legitimist cavalry at hand, prepared to charge upon them. 
 
 The fate of those carpet warriors was soon decided. The 
 Millefleur regiment broke before Concombre's hussars instan- 
 taneously ; the Eau-de-Rose dragoons stuck spurs into their 
 blood horses, and galloped far out of reach of the opposing 
 cavalry ; the Eau-de-Cologne lancers fainted to a man, and the 
 regiment of Concombre, pursuing its course, had actually 
 reached the Prince and his aides-de-camp, when the clergymen 
 coming up formed gallantly round the oriflamme, and the 
 bassoons and serpents braying again, set up such a shout of. 
 canticles, and anathemas, and excommunications, that the 
 horses of Concombre's dragoons in turn took fright, and those 
 warriors in their turn broke and fled. As soon as they turned, 
 the Vendean riflemen fired amongst them and finished them : 
 the gallant Concombre fell ; the intrepid though diminutive 
 Cornichon, his major, was cut down ; Cardon was wounded a 
 la moelle, and the wife of the fiery Navet was that day a widow. 
 Peace to the souls of the brave ! In defeat or in victory, where 
 can the soldier find a more fitting resting-place than the glorious 
 field of carnage ? Only a few disorderly and dispirited riders 
 of Concombre's regiment reached Tours at night. They had 
 left it but the day before, a thousand disciplined and high- 
 spirited men ! 
 
 Knowing how irresistible a weapon is the bayonet in British 
 hands, the intrepid Jenkins determined to carry on his advan- 
 tage, and charged the Saugrenue light infantry (now before him) 
 with cold steel. The Frenchmen delivered a volley, of which a 
 shot took effect in Jenkins's cockade, but did not abide the 
 crossing of the weapons. " A Frenchman dies, but never sur- 
 renders," said Saugrenue, yielding up his sword, and his whole 
 regiment were stabbed, trampled down, or made prisoners. The 
 blood of the Englishmen rose in the hot encounter. Their 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 347 
 
 curses were horrible ; their courage tremendous. " On ! on ! " 
 hoarsely screamed they; and a second regiment met them and 
 was crushed, pounded in the hurtling, grinding encounter. " A 
 Jenkins, a Jenkins ! " still roared the heroic Duke ; " St. George 
 for May Fair ! " The footmen of England still yelled their ter- 
 rific battle-cry, Hurra, hurra ! " On they went ; regiment after 
 regiment was annihilated, until, scared at the very trample of 
 the advancing warriors, the dismayed troops of France scream- 
 ing fled. Gathering his last warriors round about him, Nemours 
 determined to make a last desperate effort. 'Twas vain : the 
 ranks met ; the next moment the truncheon of the Prince of 
 Orleans was dashed from his hand by the irresistible mace of 
 the Duke Jenkins ; his horse's shins were broken by the same 
 weapon. Screaming with agony the animal fell. Jenkins's 
 hand was at the Duke's collar in a moment, and had he not 
 gasped out, "Je me rends!" he would have been throttled in 
 that dreadful grasp ! 
 
 Three hundred and forty-two standards, seventy-nine 
 regiments, their baggage, ammunition, and treasure-chests, fell 
 into the hands of the victorious Duke. He had avenged the 
 honor of Old England ; and himself presenting the sword of 
 the conquered Nemours to Prince Henri, who now came up, 
 the Prince, bursting into tears, fell on his neck and said, " Duke, 
 I owe my crown to my patron saint and you." It was indeed 
 a glorious victory : but what will not British valor attain ? 
 
 The Duke of Nemours, having despatched a brief note to 
 Paris, saying, " Sire, all is lost except honor ! " was sent off in 
 confinement ; and in spite of the entreaties of his captor, was 
 hardly treated with decent politeness. The priests and the 
 noble regiment who rode back when the affair was over, were 
 for having the Prince shot at once, and murmured loudly 
 against "cet Anglais brutal" who interposed in behalf of his 
 prisoner. Henri V. granted the Prince his life ; but, no doubt 
 misguided by the advice of his noble and ecclesiastical coun- 
 sellors, treated the illustrious English Duke with marked cold- 
 ness, and did not even ask him to supper that night. 
 
 " Well ! " said Jenkins, " I and my merry men can sup alone." 
 And, indeed, having had the pick of the plunder of about 28,000 
 men, they had wherewithal to make themselves pretty comfort- 
 able. The prisoners (25,403) were all without difficulty induced 
 to assume the white cockade. Most of them had those marks 
 of loyalty ready sewn in their flannel-waistcoats, where they 
 swore they had worn them ever since 1830. This we may 
 believe, and we will ; but the Prince Henri was too politic or 
 
348 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 too good-humored in the moment of victory, to doubt the sin- 
 cerity of his new subjects' protestations, and received the 
 Colonels and Generals affably at his table. 
 
 The next morning a proclamation was issued to the united 
 armies. "Faithful soldiers of France and Navarre," said the 
 Prince, " the saints have won for us a great victory — the enemies 
 of our religion have been overcome — the lilies are restored to 
 their native soil. Yesterday morning at eleven o'clock the 
 army under my command engaged that which was led by his 
 Serene Highness the Duke de Nemours. Our forces were but 
 a third in number when compared with those of the enemy. 
 My faithful chivalry and nobles made the strength, however, 
 equal. 
 
 " The regiments of Fleur-d'Orange, Milleneur, and Eau- 
 de-Cologne covered themselves with glory • they sabred many 
 thousands of the enemy's troops. Their valor was ably seconded 
 by the gallantry of my ecclesiastical friends : at a moment of 
 danger they rallied round my banner, and forsaking. the crozier 
 for the sword, showed that they were of the church militant 
 indeed. 
 
 " My faithful Irish auxiliaries conducted themselves with 
 becoming heroism — but why particularize when all did their 
 duty ? How remember individual acts when all were heroes ? " 
 The Marshal of France, Sucre d'Orgeville, Commander of the 
 Army of H. M. Christian Majesty, recommended about three 
 thousand persons for promotion ; and the indignation of 
 Jenkins and his brave companions may be imagined when 
 it is stated that they were not even mentioned in the despatch ! 
 
 As for the'Princes of Ballybunion, Donegal, and Connemara, 
 they wrote off despatches to their Government, saying, " The 
 Duke of Nemours is beaten, and a prisoner ! The Irish 
 Brigade has done it all ! " On which his Majesty the King of 
 the Irish, convoking his Parliament at the Corn Exchange 
 Palace, Dublin, made a speech, in which he called Louis 
 Philippe an " old miscreant," and paid the highest compliments 
 to his son and his troops. The King on this occasion knighted 
 Sir Henry Sheehan, Sir Gavan Duffy (whose journals had 
 published the news), and was so delighted with the valor of his 
 son, that he despatched him his Order of the Pig and Whistle 
 (ist class), and a munificent present of five hundred thousand 
 pounds — in a bill at three months. All Dublin was illuminated ; 
 and at a ball at the Castle the Lord Chancellor Smith (Earl of 
 Smithereens) getting extremely intoxicated, called out the Lord 
 Bishop of Galway (the Dove), and they fought in the Phoenix 
 
NEXT FRENCH RE VOLUTION. 
 
 349 
 
 Park. Having shot the Right Reverend Bishop through the 
 body, Smithereens apologized. He was the same practitioner 
 who had rendered himself so celebrated in the memorable trial 
 of the King — before the Act of Independence. 
 
 Meanwhile, the army of Prince Henri advanced with rapid 
 stridest owards Paris, whither the History likewise must hasten ; 
 for extraordinary were the events oreparing in that capital. 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 
 THE LEAGUER OF PARIS. 
 
 By a singular coincidence, on the very same day when the 
 armies of Henri V. appeared before Paris from the Western 
 Road, those of the Emperor John Thomas Napoleon arrived 
 from the North. Skirmishes took place between the advanced- 
 guards of the two parties, and much slaughter ensued. 
 
 " Bon ! " thought King Louis Philippe, who examined them 
 from his tower; "they will kill each other. This is by far 
 the most economical way of getting rid of them." The astute 
 monarch's calculations were admirably exposed by a clever re- 
 mark of the Prince of Ballybunion. " Faix, Harry," says he 
 (with a familiarity which , the punctilious son of Saint Louis 
 resented), " you and him yandther — the Emperor, I mane — are 
 like the Kilkenny cats, dear." 
 
 " Et que font-ils ces chats de Kilkigny, Monsieur le Prince 
 de Ballybunion ? " asked the most Christian King haughtily. 
 
 Prince Daniel replied by narrating the well-known apologue 
 of the animals " ating each other all up but their teels ; and 
 that's what you and Imparial Pop yondiher will do, blazing 
 away as ye are," added the jocose and royal boy. 
 
 " Je prie votre Altesse Royale de vaguer a, ses propres af- 
 faires," answered Prince Henri sternly : for he was an enemy 
 to anything like a joke ; but there is always wisdom in real 
 wit, and it would have been well for his Most Christian Maj- 
 esty had he the followed facetious counsels of his Irish ally. 
 
 The fact is, the King, Henri, had an understanding with the 
 garrisons of some of the forts, and expected all would declare 
 for him. However, of the twenty-four forts which we have 
 described, eight only — and by the means of Marshal Soult, 
 who had grown extremely devout of late years — declared for 
 
 2 3 
 
35° 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 Henri, and raised the white flag : while eight others, seeing 
 Prince John Thomas Napoleon before them in the costume 
 of his revered predecessor, at once flung open their gates to 
 him, and mounted the tricolor with the eagle. The remain- 
 ing eight, into which the Princes of the blood of Orleans had 
 thrown themselves, remained constant to Louis Philippe. 
 Nothing could induce that Prince to quit the Tuileries. His 
 money was there, and he swore he would remain by it. In 
 vain his sons offered to bring him into one of the forts — he 
 would not stir without his treasure. They said they would 
 transport it thither \ but no, no : the patriarchal monarch, put- 
 ting his finger to his aged nose, and winking archly, said, ' he 
 knew a trick worth tWo of that/ and resolved to abide by his 
 bags. 
 
 The theatres and cafes remained open as usual : the funds 
 rose three centimes. The Journal des Debats published three 
 editions of different tones of politics : one, the Journal de 
 V * Empire, for the Napoleonites ; the Journal de la Legitimite 
 another, very complimentary to the Legitimate monarch ; and 
 finally, the original edition, bound heart and soul to the dynas- 
 ty of July. The poor editor, who had to write all three, com- 
 plained not a little that his salary was not raised : but the 
 truth is that, by altering the names, one article did indifferently 
 for either paper. The Duke of Brittany, under the title of 
 Louis XVII., was always issuing manifestoes from Charenton, 
 but of these the Parisians took little heed : the Charivari pro- 
 claimed itself his Gazette, and was allowed to be very witty at 
 the expense of the three pretenders. 
 
 As the country had been ravaged for a hundred miles 
 round, the respective Princes of course were for throwing them- 
 selves into the forts, where there was plenty of provision ; 
 and, when once there, they speedily began to turn out such of 
 the garrison as were disagreeable to them, or had an incon- 
 venient appetite, or were of a doubtful fidelity. These poor 
 fellows turned into the road, had no choice but starvation ; as 
 to getting into Paris, that was impossible : a mouse could not 
 have got into the place, so admirably were the forts guarded, 
 without having his head taken off by a cannon-ball. Thus the 
 three conflicting parties stood, close to each other, hating each 
 other, " willing to wound and yet afraid to strike "—the vict- 
 uals in the forts, from the prodigious increase of the garrisons, 
 getting smaller every day. As for Louis Philippe in his pal- 
 ace, in the centre of the twenty-four forts, knowing that a 
 spark from one might set them all blazing away, and that he 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 35 1 
 
 and his money-bags might be blown into eternity in ten min- 
 utes, you may fancy his situation was not very comfortable. 
 
 But his safety lay in his treasure. Neither the Imperialists 
 nor the Bourbonites were willing to relinquish the two hundred 
 and fifty billions in gold ; nor would the Princes of Orleans 
 dare to fire upon that considerable sum of money, and its 
 possessor, their revered father. How was this state of things 
 to end ? The Emperor sent a note to his Most Christian Maj- 
 esty (for they always styled each other in this manner in their 
 communications), proposing that they should turn out and de- 
 cide the quarrel sword in hand ; to which proposition Henri 
 would have acceded, but that the priests, his ghostly coun- 
 sellors, threatened to excommunicate him should he do so. 
 Hence this simple way of settling the dispute was impossible. 
 
 The presence of the holy fathers caused considerable annoy- 
 ance in the forts. Especially the poor English, as Protestants, 
 were subject to much petty persecution, to the small anger of 
 Jenkins, their commander. And it must be confessed that 
 these intrepid Footmen were not so amenable to discipline as 
 they might have been. Remembering the usages of merry 
 England, they clubbed together, and swore they would have 
 four meals of meat a day, wax-candles in the casemates, and 
 their porter. These demands were laughed at : the priests even 
 called upon them to fast on Fridays ; on which a general 
 mutiny broke out in the regiment ; and they would have had 
 a fourth standard raised before Paris — viz. : that of England 
 — but the garrison proving too strong for them, they were com- 
 pelled to lay down their sticks ; and, in consideration of past 
 services, were permitted to leave the forts. 'Twas well for 
 them ! as you shall hear. 
 
 The Prince of Ballybunion and the Irish force were quar- 
 tered in the fort which, in compliment to them, was called Fort 
 Potato, and where they made themselves as comfortable as 
 circumstances would admit. The Princes had as much brandy 
 as they liked, and passed their time on the ramparts playing 
 at dice, or pitch-and-toss (with the halfpenny that one of them 
 somehow had) for vast sums of money, for which they gave 
 their notes-of-hand. The warriors of their legion would stand 
 round delighted; and it was, " Musha, Master Dan, but that's 
 a good throw ? " " Good luck to you, Misther Pat, and throw 
 thirteen this time ! " and so forth. But this sort of inactioa 
 could not last long. They had heard of the treasures amassed 
 in the palace of the Tuileries : they sighed when they thought 
 of the lack of bullion in their green and beautiful country. 
 They panted for war ! They formed their plan. 
 
352 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE FORTS. 
 
 On the morning of the 26th October, 1884, as his Majesty 
 Louis Philippe was at breakfast reading the Debats newspaper, 
 and wishing that what the journal said about " Cholera Morbus 
 in the Camp of the Pretender Henri," — " Chicken-pox raging 
 in the Forts of the Traitor Bonaparte," — might be true, what 
 was his surprise to hear the report of a gun ; and at the same 
 instant — whizz ! came an eighty-four-pound ball through the 
 window and took off the head of the faithful Monsieur de 
 Montalivet, who was coming in with a plate of muffins. 
 
 " Three francs for the window," said the monarch ; " and 
 the muffins of course spoiled ! " and he sat down to breakfast 
 very peevishly. Ah, King Louis Philippe, that shot cost thee 
 more than a window-pane — more than a plate of muffins — it 
 cost thee a fair kingdom and fifty millions of tax-payers. 
 
 The shot had been fired from Fort Potato. " Gracious heav- 
 ens ! " said the commander of the place to the Irish Prince, 
 in a fury, " What has your Highness done ? " " Faix," replied 
 the other, " Donegal and I saw a sparrow on the Tuileries, and 
 we thought we'd have a shot at it, that's all." " Hurroo ! look 
 out for squalls," here cried the intrepid Hibernian ; for at this 
 moment one of Paixhans' shells fell into the counterscarp of 
 the demi-lune on which they were standing, and sent a ravelin 
 and a couple of embrasures flying about their ears. 
 
 Fort Twenty-three, which held out for Louis Philippe, see- 
 ing Fort Twenty-four, or Potato, open a fire on the Tuileries, 
 instantly replied by its guns, with which it blazed away at the 
 Bourbonite fort. On seeing this, Fort Twenty-two, occupied by 
 the Imperialists, began pummelling Twenty- three ; Twenty-one 
 began at Twenty-two ; and in a quarter of an hour the whole 
 of this vast line of fortification was in a blaze of flame, flash- 
 ing, roaring, cannonading, rocketing, bombing, in the most tre- 
 mendous manner. The world has never perhaps, before or 
 since, heard such an uproar. Fancy twenty-four thousand guns 
 thundering at each other. Fancy the sky red with the fires of 
 hundreds of thousands of blazing, brazen meteors 5 the air 
 thick with impenetrable smoke — the universe almost in aflame ! 
 for the noise of the cannonading was heard on the peaks of the 
 
NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 
 
 353 
 
 Ancles, and broke three windows in the English factory at Can- 
 ton. Boom, boom, boom ! for three days incessantly the gigan- 
 tic — I may say, Cyclopean battle went on : boom, boom, boom, 
 bong! The air was thick with cannon-balls : they hurtled, they 
 jostled each other in the heavens, and fell whizzing, whirling, 
 crashing, back into the very forts from which they came. Boom, 
 boom, boom, bong — brrwrrwrrr ! 
 
 On the second day a band might have been seen (had the 
 smoke permitted it) assembling at the sally-port of Fort Potato, 
 and have been heard (if the tremendous clang of the cannonad- 
 ing had allowed it) giving mysterious signs and countersigns. 
 " Tom," was the word whispered, " Steele " was the sibilated 
 response. (It is astonishing how, in the roar of elements, the, 
 human whisper hisses above all !) It was the Irish Brigade 
 assembling. " Now or never, boys ! " said their leaders ; 
 and sticking their doodeens into their mouths, they dropped 
 stealthily into the trenches, heedless of the broken glass and 
 swordblades ; rose from those trenches ; formed in silent or- 
 der ; and marched to Paris. They knew they could arrive 
 there unobserved — nobody, indeed, remarked their absence. 
 
 The frivolous Parisians were, in the mean while, amusing 
 themselves at their theatres and cafes as usual ; and a new piece, 
 in which Arnal performed, was the universal talk of the foyers : 
 while a new feuilleton by Monsieur Eugene Sue, kept the atten- 
 tion of the reader so fascinated to the journal, that they did 
 not care in the least for the vacarme without the walls. 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 LOUIS XVII. 
 
 The tremendous cannonading, however, had a singular 
 effect upon the inhabitants of the great public hospital of 
 Charenton, in which it may be remembered Louis XVII. had 
 been, as in mockery, confined. His majesty of demeanor, his 
 calm deportment, the reasonableness of his pretensions, had 
 not failed to strike with awe and respect his four thousand com- 
 rades of captivity. The Emperor of China, the Princess of 
 the Moon, Julius Caesar, Saint Genevieve, the patron saint of 
 Paris, the Pope of Rome, the Cacique of Mexico and several 
 
 • 
 
3S4 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 singular and illustrious personages who happened to be con- 
 fined there, all held a council with Louis XVII. ; and all agreed 
 that now or never was the time to support his legitimate pre- 
 tensions to the Crown of France. As the cannons roared 
 around them, they howled with furious delight in response. 
 They took counsel together : Doctor Pin el and the infamous 
 jailers, who, under the name of keepers, held them in horrible 
 captivity, were pounced upon and overcome in a twinkling. 
 The strait-waistcoats were taken off from the wretched captives 
 languishing in the dungeons ; the guardians were invested in 
 these shameful garments, and with triumphant laughter plunged 
 under the Douches. The gates of the prison were flung open, 
 and they marched forth in the blackness of the storm ! 
 
 -)(? -K? 
 
 On the third day, the cannonading was observed to decrease ; 
 
 only a gun went oft fitfully now and then. 
 
 # # * # # 
 
 On the fourth day, the Parisians said to one another, 
 " Tiens ! ils sont fatigues, les cannoniers des forts ! " — and 
 why ? Because there was no more powder ? — Ay, truly, there 
 was no more powder. 
 
 There was no more powder, no more guns, no more gunners, 
 no more forts, no more nothing. The forts had blown each other 
 up. The battle-roar ceased. The battle-clouds rolled off. The 
 silver moon, the twinkling stars, looked blandly down from the 
 serene azure, — and all was peace — stillness — the stillness of 
 death. Holy, holy silence ! 
 
 Yes : the battle of Paris was over. And where were the 
 combatants ? All gone — not one left ! — And where was Louis 
 Philippe ? The venerable Prince was a captive in the Tuile- 
 ries j the Irish Brigade was encamped around it : they had 
 reached the palace a little too late ; it was already occupied by 
 the partisans of his Majesty Louis XVII. 
 
 That respectable monarch and his followers better knew the 
 way to the Tuileries than the ignorant sons of Erin. They 
 burst through the feeble barriers of the guards ; they rushed 
 triumphant into the kingly halls of the palace ; they seated the 
 seventeenth Louis on the throne of his ancestors ; and the 
 Parisians read in the Journal des Dcbats, of the fifth of Novem- 
 ber, an important article, which proclaimed that the civil war 
 was concluded : — 
 
 " The troubles which distracted the greatest empire in the 
 world are at an end. Europe, which marked with sorrow the 
 disturbances which agitated the bosom of the Queen of Nations, 
 
NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION. 
 
 355 
 
 the great leader of Civilization, may now rest in peace. That 
 monarch whom we have long been sighing for ; whose image 
 has lain hidden, and yet oh ! how passionately worshipped, in 
 every French heart, is with us once more. Blessings be on 
 him ; blessings — a thousand blessings upon the happy country 
 which is at length restored to his beneficent, his legitimate, his 
 reasonable sway ! 
 
 " His Most Christian Majesty Louis XVII. yesterday 
 arrived at his palace of the Tuileries, accompanied by his 
 august allies. His Royal Highness the Duke of Orleans has 
 resigned his post as Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and 
 will return speedily to take up his abode at the Palais Royal. 
 It is a great mercy that the children of his Royal Highness, 
 who happened to be in the late forts round Paris (before the 
 bombardment which has so happily ended in their destruction), 
 had returned to their father before the commencement of the 
 cannonading. They will continue, as heretofore, to be the 
 most loyal supporters of order and the throne. 
 
 " None can read without tears in their eyes our august 
 monarch's proclamation. 
 
 " ' Louis, by, &c. — 
 
 " 6 My children ! After nine hundred and ninety-nine years 
 of captivity, I am restored to you. The cycle of events pre- 
 dicted by the ancient Magi, and the planetary convolutions 
 mentioned in the lost Sibylline books, have fulfilled their 
 respective idiosyncrasies, and ended (as always in the depths 
 of my dungeons I confidently expected) in the triumph of the 
 good Angel, and the utter discomfiture of the abominable Blue 
 Dragon. 
 
 " ' When the bombarding began, and the powers of darkness 
 commenced their hellish gunpowder evolutions, I was close by 
 — in my palace of Charenton, three hundred and thirty-three 
 thousand miles off, in the ring of Saturn — I witnessed your 
 misery. My heart was affected by it, and I said, " Is the mul- 
 tiplication-table a fiction ? are the signs of the Zodiac mere 
 astronomers' prattle ? " 
 
 " ' I clapped chains, shrieking and -darkness, on my physi- 
 cian, Dr. Pinel. The keepers I shall cause to be roasted alive. 
 I summoned my allies round about me. The high contracting 
 Powers came to my bidding : monarchs from all parts of the 
 earth ; sovereigns from the Moon and other illumined orbits ; 
 the white necromancers, and the pale imprisoned genii. I 
 whispered the mystic sign, and the doors flew open. We 
 entered Paris in triumph, by the Charenton bridge. Our lug- 
 
356 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE 
 
 gage was not examined at the Octroi. The bottle-green ones 
 were scared at our shouts, and retreated, howling : they knew 
 us, and trembled. 
 
 " 1 My faithful Peers and Deputies will rally round me. I 
 have a friend in Turkey — the Grand Vizier of the Mussulmans : 
 he was a Protestant once — Lord Brougham by name. I have 
 sent to him to legislate for us : he is wise in the law, and 
 astrology, and all sciences ; he shall aid my Ministers in their 
 councils. I have written to him by the post. There shall be 
 no more infamous mad-houses in France, where poor souls 
 shiver in strait-waistcoats. 
 
 " 6 1 recognized Louis Philippe, my good cousin. He was 
 in his counting-house, counting out his money, as the old 
 prophecy warned me. He gave me up the keys of his gold j 
 I shall know well how to use it. Taught by adversity, I am not 
 a spendthrift, neither am I a miser. 1 will endow the land 
 with noble institutions instead of diabolical forts. I will have 
 no more cannon founded. They are a curse, and shall be 
 melted- — the iron ones into railroads ; the bronze ones into 
 statues of beautiful saints, angels, and wise men; the copper 
 ones into money, to be distributed among my poor. I was poor 
 once, and I love them. 
 
 " There shall be no more poverty ; no more wars ; no more 
 
 avarice ; no more passports ; no more custom-houses ; no more 
 lying : no more physic. 
 
 " ' My Chambers will put the seal to these reforms. I will 
 it. I am the king. 
 
 (Signed) 6 Louis.' " 
 
 " Some alarm was created yesterday by the arrival of a body 
 of the English Foot-Guard under the Duke of Jenkins ; they 
 were at first about to sack the city, but on hearing that the 
 banner of the lilies was once more raised in France, the Duke 
 hastened to the Tuileries, and offered his allegiance to his 
 Majesty. It was accepted : and the Plush Guard has been 
 established in -"lace of the Swiss, who waited on former sov- 
 ereigns." 
 
 " The Irish Brigade quartered in the Tuileries are to enter 
 our service. Their commander states that they took every one 
 of the forts round Paris, and having blown them up, were pro- 
 ceeding to release Louis XVII., when they found that august 
 monarch, happily, free. News of their glorious victory has , 
 
NEXT FRENCH RE VOL UTION 
 
 357 
 
 been conveyed to Dublin, to his Majesty the King of the Irish. 
 It will be a new laurel to add to his green crown ! " 
 
 And thus have we brought to a conclusion our history of 
 the great French Revolution of 1884. It records the actions 
 of great and various characters ; the deeds of various valor : it 
 narrates wonderful reverses of fortune ; it affords the moralist 
 scope for his philosophy ; perhaps it gives amusement to the 
 merely idle reader. Nor must the latter imagine, because there 
 is not a precise moral affixed to the story, that its tendency is 
 otherwise than good. He is a poor reader, for whom his 
 author is obliged to supply a moral application. It is well in 
 spelling-books and for children ; it is needless for the reflect- 
 ing spirit. The drama of Punch himself is not moral : but that 
 drama has had audiences all over the world. Happy he, who 
 in our dark times can cause a smile ! Let us laugh then, and 
 gladden in the sunshine, though it be but as the ray upon the 
 pool, that flickers only over the cold black depths below ! 
 
 v 
 
COX'S DIARY. 
 
COX'S DPARY. 
 
 THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 
 
 On the ist of January, 1838, I was the master of a lovely 
 shop in the neighborhood of Oxford Market ; of a wife, Mrs. 
 Cox • of a business, both in the shaving and cutting line, estab- 
 lished three-and-thirty years ; of a girl and boy respectively of 
 the ages of eighteen and thirteen ; of a three-windowed front, 
 both to my first and second pair; of a young foreman, my 
 present partner, Mr. Orlando Crump • and of that celebrated 
 mixture for the human hair, invented by my late uncle, and 
 called Cox's Bohemian Balsam of Tokay, sold in pots at two- 
 and-three and three-and-nine. The balsam, the lodgings, and 
 the old-established cutting and shaving business brought me in 
 a pretty genteel income. I had my girl, Jemimarann, at Hack- 
 ney, to school ; my dear boy, Tuggeridge, plaited her hair 
 beautifully ; my wife at the counter (behind the tray of patent 
 soaps, &c.) cut as handsome a figure as possible ; and it was 
 my hope that Orlando and my girl, who were mighty soft upon 
 one another, would one day be joined together in Hyming, 
 and, conjointly with my son Tug, carry on the business of hair- 
 dressers when their father was either dead or a gentleman : for 
 a gentleman me and Mrs. C. determined I should be. 
 
 Jemima was, you see, a lady herself, and of very high con- 
 nections : though her own family had met with crosses, and 
 was rather low. Mr. Tuggeridge, her father, kept the famous 
 tripe-shop near the " Pigtail and Sparrow," in the Whitechapel 
 Road ■ from which place I married her ; being myself very 
 fond of the article, and especially when she served it to me — 
 the dear thing ! 
 
 Jemima's father was not successful in business : and I mar- 
 ried her, I am proud to confess it, without a shilling. I had 
 
 (361) 
 
362 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 my hands, my house, and my Bohemian balsam to support her ? 
 — and we had hopes from her uncle, a mighty rich East India 
 merchant, who, having left this country sixty years ago as a 
 cabin-boy, had arrived to be the head of a great house in 
 India, and was worth millions, we were told. 
 
 Three years after Jemimarann's birth (and two after the 
 death of my lamented father-in-law), Tuggeridge (head of the 
 great house of Budgurow and Co.) retired from the manage- 
 ment of it; handed over 'his shares to his scr>, Mr. John Tug- 
 geridge, and came to live in England, at Portland Place, 
 and Tuggeridgeville, Surrey, and enjoy himself. Soon after, 
 my wife took her daughter in her hand and went, as in duty 
 bound, to visit her uncle : but whether it was that he was 
 proud and surly, or she somewhat sharp in her way, (the dear 
 girl fears nobody, let me have you to know,) a desperate quar- 
 rel took place between them j and from that day to the day of 
 his death, he never set eyes on her. All that he would con- 
 descend to do, was to take a few dozen of lavender-water from 
 us in the course of the year, and to send his servants to be cut 
 and shaved by us. All the neighbors laughed at this poor end- 
 ing of our expectations, for Jemmy had bragged not a little ; 
 however, we did not care, for the connection was always a 
 good one, and we served Mr. Hock, the valet ; Mr. Bar, the 
 coachman ; and Mrs. Breadbasket, the housekeeper, willingly 
 enough. I used to powder the footman, too, on great days, 
 but never in my life saw old Tuggeridge, except once : when 
 he said, " Oh, the barber ! " tossed up his nose, and passed on. 
 
 One day — one famous day last January — all our Market 
 was thrown into a high state of excitement by the appearance 
 of no less than three vehicles at our establishment. As me, 
 Jemmy, my daughter, Tug, and Orlando, were sitting in the 
 back parlor over our dinner (it being Christmas-time), Mr. 
 Crump had treated the ladies to a bottle of port, and was long- 
 ing that there should be a mistletoe-bough : at which proposal 
 my little Jemimarann looked as red as a glass of negus : — we 
 had just, I say, finished the port, when, all of a sudde'n, Tug 
 bellows out, " La, Pa, here's uncle Tuggeridge's housekeeper 
 in a cab ! " 
 
 And Mrs. Breadbasket it was, sure enough — Mrs. Bread- 
 basket in deep mourning, who made her way, bowing and 
 looking very sad, into the back shop. My wife, who respected 
 Mrs. B. more than anything else in the world, set her a chair, 
 offered her a glass of wine, and vowed it was very kind of her 
 to come. " La, mem," say Mrs. B., " I'm sure I'd do anything 
 
THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 
 
 3 6 3 
 
 to serve your family, for the sake of that poor dear Tuck-Tuck- 
 tug-guggeridge, that's gone." 
 
 " That's what ? " cries my wife. 
 
 "What, gone? " cried Jemimarann, bursting out crying (as 
 little girls will about anything or nothing) • and Orlando look- 
 ing very rueful, and ready to cry too. 
 
 " Yes, gaw " Just as she was at this very "gaw," Tug 
 
 roars out, " La, Pa ! here's Mr. Bar, uncle Tug's coachman ! " 
 
 It was Mr. Bar. When she saw him, Mrs. Breadbasket 
 stepped suddenly back into the parlor with my ladies. " What 
 is it, Mr. Bar ? " says I • and as quick as thought, I had the 
 towel under his chin, Mr. Bar in the chair, and the whole of 
 his face in a beautiful foam of lather. Mr. Bar made some 
 resistance. — " Don't think of it, Mr. Cox," says he ; " don't 
 trouble yourself, sir." But I lathered away, and never minded. 
 " And what's this melancholy event, sir," says I, "that has 
 spread desolation in your family's bosoms ? I can feel for your 
 loss, sir — I can feel for your loss." 
 
 I said so out of politeness, because I served the family, not 
 because Tugge ridge was my uncle — no, as such I disown him. 
 
 Mr. Bar was just about to speak. " Yes, sir," says he, 
 
 "my master's gaw " when at the "gaw," in walks Mr. 
 
 Hock, the own man ! — the finest gentleman I ever saw. 
 
 " What, you here, Mr. Bar ! " says he. 
 
 "Yes, I am, sir \ and haven't I a right, sir?" 
 
 " A mighty wet day, sir," says I to Mr. Hock — stepping up 
 and making my bow. " A sad circumstance too, sir ! And is 
 it a turn of the tongs that you want to-day, sir ? Ho, there, 
 Mr. Crump I, V 
 
 "Turn, Mr. Crump, if you please, sir," said Mr. Hock, 
 making a bow ; " but from you, sir, never — no never, split me ! 
 — and I wonder how some fellows can have the i?isolence to al- 
 low their masters to shave them ! " With this, Mr. Hock flung 
 himself down to be curled : Mr. Bar suddenly opened his 
 mouth in order to reply ; but seeing there was a tiff between 
 the gentlemen, and wanting to prevent a quarrel, I rammed the 
 Advertiser into Mr. Hock's hands, and just popped my shav- 
 ing-brush into Mr. Bar's mouth — a capital way to stop angry 
 answers. 
 
 Mr. Bar had hardly been in the chair one second, when 
 whirr comes a hackney-coach to the door, from which springs 
 a gentleman in a black coat with a bag. 
 
 " What, you here ! " says the gentleman. I could not help 
 smiling, for it seemed that everybody was to begin by saying, 
 
3 6 4 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 "What, you here ! " "Your name is Cox, sir?" says he; 
 smiling too, as the very pattern of mine. " My name, sir, is 
 Sharpus, — Blunt, Hone, and Sharpus, Middle Temple Lane, — 
 and I am proud to salute you, sir ; happy, that is to say, sorry 
 to say, that Mr. Tuggeridge, of Portland Place, is dead, and 
 your lady is heiress, in consequence, to one of the handsomest 
 properties in the kingdom." 
 
 At this I started, and might have sunk to the ground, but 
 for my hold of Mr. Bar's nose ; Orlando seemed putrified to 
 stone, with his irons fixed to Mr. Hock's head ; our respective 
 patients gave a wince out : — Mrs. C, Jemimarann, and Tug, 
 rushed from the back shop, and we formed a splendid tableau 
 such as the great Cruikshank might have depicted. 
 
 " And Mr. John Tuggeridge, sir ? " says I. 
 
 " Why — hee, hee, hee ! " says Mr. Sharpus. " Surely you 
 know that he was only the — hee, hee, hee ! — the natural 
 son ! " 
 
 You now can understand why the servants from Portland 
 Place had been so eager to come to us. One of the house- 
 maids heard Mr. Sharpus say there was no will, and that my 
 wife was heir to the property, and not Mr. John Tuggeridge : 
 this she told in the housekeeper's room ; and off, as soon as 
 they heard it, the whole party set, in order to be the first to 
 bear the news. 
 
 We kept them, every one, in their old places ; for, though 
 my wife would have sent them about their business, my dear 
 Jemimarann just hinted, " Mamma, you know they have been 
 used to great houses, and we have not ; had we not better 
 keep them for a little ? " — Keep them, then, we did, to show us 
 how to be gentlefolks. 
 
 I handed over the business to Mr. Crump without a single 
 farthing of premium, though Jemmy would have made me take 
 four hundred pounds for it ; but this I was above : Crump had 
 served me faithfully, and have the shop he should. 
 
 FIRST ROUT. 
 
 We were speedily installed in our fine house : but what's a 
 house without friends ? Jemmy made me cut all my old ac- 
 quaintances in the Market, and I was a solitary being \ when, 
 
THE ANNOUNCEMENT. 
 
 luckily, an old acquaintance of ours, Captain Tagrag, was so 
 kind as to promise to introduce us into distinguished society. 
 Tagrag was the son of a baronet, and had done us the honor 
 of lodging with us for two years ; when we lost sight of him, 
 and of his little account, too, by the way. A fortnight after, 
 hearing of our good fortune, he was among us again, however ) 
 and Jemmy was not a little glad to see him, knowing him to be 
 a baronet's son, and very fond of our Jemimarann. Indeed, 
 Orlando (who is as brave as a lion) had on one occasion abso- 
 lutely beaten Mr. Tagrag for being rude to the poor girl : a 
 clear proof, as Tagrag said afterwards, that he was always fond 
 of her. 
 
 Mr. Crump, poor fellow, was not very much pleased by our 
 good fortune, though he did all he could to try at first ; and I 
 told him to come and take his dinner regular, as if nothing had 
 happened. But to this Jemima very soon put a stop, for she 
 came very justly to know her stature, and to look down on 
 Crump, which she bid her daughter to do ; and, after a great 
 scene, in which Orlando showed himself very rude and angry, 
 he was forbidden the house — forever ! 
 
 So much for poor Crump. The Captain was now all in all 
 with ^s. " You see, sir," our Jemmy would say, " we shall have 
 our town and country mansion, and a hundred and thirty thou- 
 sand pounds in the funds, to leave between our two children ; 
 and, with such prospects, they ought sure to have the first 
 society of England." To this Tagrag agreed, and promised to 
 bring us acquainted with the very pink of the fashion ; ay, and 
 what's more, did. 
 
 First, he made my wife get an opera-box, and give suppers 
 on Tuesdays and Saturdays. As for me, he made me ride in 
 the Park : me and Jemimarann, with two grooms behind us, who 
 used to laugh all the way, and whose very beards I had shaved. 
 As for little Tug, he was sent straight off to the most fashion- 
 able school in the kingdom, the Reverend Doctor Pigney's, at 
 Richmond. 
 
 Well, the horses, the suppers, the opera-box, the paragraph 
 in the papers about Mr. Coxe Coxe (that's the way : double 
 your name and stick an " e " to the end of it, and you are a 
 gentleman at once), had an effect in a wonderfully short space 
 of time, and we began to get a very pretty society about us. 
 Some of old Tug's friends swore they would do anything for 
 the family, and brought their wives and daughters to see dear 
 Mrs. Coxe and her charming girl ; and when, about the first 
 week in February, we announced a grand dinner and ball for 
 
 24 
 
366 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 the evening of the twenty-eighth, I assure you there was no 
 want of company : no, nor of titles neither ; and it always does 
 my heart good even to hear one mentioned. 
 
 Let me see. There was, first, my Lord Dumboozle, an 
 Irish peer, and his seven sons, the Honorable Messieurs 
 Trumper (two only to dinner) • there was Count Mace, the 
 celebrated French nobleman, and his Excellency Baron von 
 Punter from Baden ; there was Lady Blanche Bluenose, the 
 eminent literati, author of " The Distrusted," " The Distorted," 
 "The Disgusted," " The Disreputable One," and other poems ; 
 there was the Dowager Lady Max and her daughter, the Hon- 
 orable Miss Adelaide Blueruin ; Sir Charles Codshead, from 
 the City ; and Field-Marshal Sir Gorman O'Gallagher, K. A., 
 K. B., K. C, K. W., K. X., in the service of the Republic of 
 Guatemala : my friend Tagrag and his fashionable acquaintance, 
 little Tom Tufthunt, made up the party. And when the doors 
 were flung open, and Mr. Hock, in black, with a white napkin, 
 three footmen, coachman, and a lad whom Mrs. C. had dressed 
 in sugar-loaf buttons and called a page, were seen round the 
 dinner-table, all in white gloves, I promise you I felt a thrill of 
 elation, and thought to myself — Sam Cox, Sam Cox, who ever 
 would have expected to see you here ? 
 
 After dinner, there was to be, as I said, an evening-party ; 
 and to this messieurs Tagrag and Tufthunt had invited many 
 of the principal nobility that our metropolis had produced. 
 When I mentioned among the company to tea, her Grace the 
 Duchess of Zero, her son the Marquis of Fitzurse, and the 
 Ladies North Pole her daughters ; when I say that there were 
 yet others, whose names may be found in the Blue Book, but 
 sha'n't, out of Modesty, be mentioned here, I think I've said 
 enough to show that, in our time, No. 96 Portland Place was 
 the resort of the best of company. 
 
 It was our first dinner, and dressed by our new cook, Mun- 
 seer Cordongblew. I bore it very well ; eating for my share, a 
 filly dysol allamater dotell, a cutlet soubeast, a pully bashymall, 
 and other French dishes : and, for the frisky sweet wine, with 
 tin tops to the bottles, called Champang, I must say that me 
 and Mrs. Coxe-Tuggeridge Coxe drank a very good share of it 
 (but the Claret and Jonnysberger, being sour, we did not much 
 relish). However, the feed, as I say, went off very well : Lady 
 Blanche Bluenose sitting next to me, and being so good as to 
 put me down for six copies of all her poems ; the Count and 
 Baron von Punter engaging Jemimarann for several waltzes, 
 and the Field-Marshal plying my dear Jemmy with Champang, 
 
FIRST ROUT. 
 
 367 
 
 until, bless her ! her dear nose became as red as her new 
 crimson satin gown, which, with a blue turban and bird of 
 paradise feathers, made her look like an empress, I warrant. 
 
 Well, dinner past, Mrs. C. and the ladies went off : — 
 thunder-under-under came the knocks at the door ; squeedle- 
 eedle-eedle, Mr. Wippert's fiddlers began to strike up ; and, 
 about half-past eleven, me and the gents thought it high time 
 to make our appearance. I felt a little squeamish at the 
 thought of meeting a couple of hundred great people ; but 
 Count Mace and Sir Gorman O'Gallagher taking each an arm, 
 we reached, at last, the drawing-room. 
 
 The young ones in company were dancing, and the Duchess 
 and the great ladies were all seated, talking to themselves very 
 stately, and working away at the ices and macaroons. I looked 
 out for my pretty Jemimarann amongst the dancers, and saw 
 her tearing round the room along with Baron Punter, in what 
 they call a gallypard ; then I peeped into the circle of the 
 Duchesses, where, in course, I expected to find Mrs. C. ; but 
 she wasn't there ! She was seated at the further end of the 
 room, looking very sulky ; and I went up and took her arm, 
 and brought her down to the place where the Duchesses were. 
 " Oh, not there ! " said Jemmy, trying to break away. " Non- 
 sense, my dear," says I : " you are missis, and this is your 
 place." Then going up to her ladyship the Duchess, says I, 
 " Me and my missis are most proud of the honor of seeing of 
 you." 
 
 The Duchess (a tall red-haired grenadier of a woman) did 
 not speak. 
 
 I went on : " The young ones are all at it, ma'am, you see ; 
 and so we thought we would come and sit down among the old 
 ones. You and I, ma'am, I think, are too stiff to dance." 
 
 " Sir ! " says her Grace. 
 
 " Ma'am," says I, " don't you know me ? My name's Cox. 
 Nobody's introduced me ; but, dash it, it's my own house, and 
 I may present myself — so give us your hand, ma'am." 
 
 And I shook hers in the kindest way in the world : but — 
 would you believe it ? — the old cat screamed as if my hand had 
 been a hot 'tater. " Fitzurse ! Fitzurse ! " shouted she, " help ! 
 help ! " Up scuffled all the other Dowagers — in rushed the 
 dancers. " Mamma?! mamma!" squeaked Lady Julia North 
 Pole. " Lead me to my mother," howled Lady Aurorer : and 
 both came up and flung themselves into her arms. " Wawt's 
 the raw ? " said Lord Fitzurse, sauntering up quite stately. . 
 
 " Protect me from the insults of this man," says her Grace. 
 
368 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 " Where's Tufthunt ? he promised that not a soul in this house 
 should speak to me." 
 
 " My dear Duchess," said Tufthunt, very meek. 
 
 " Don't Duchess me, sir. Did you not promise they should 
 not speak ; and hasn't that horrid tipsy wretch offered to 
 embrace me ? Didn't his monstrous wife sicken me with her 
 odious familiarities ? Call my people, Tufthunt ! Follow me, 
 my children ! " 
 
 " And my carriage," "And mine," "And mine!" shouted 
 twenty more voices. And down they all trooped to the hall : 
 Lady Blanche Bluenose and Lady Max among the very first ; 
 leaving only the Field-Marshal and one or two men, who roared 
 with laughter ready to split. 
 
 " Oh, Sam," said my wife, sobbing, " why would you take 
 me back to them ? they had sent me away before ! I only 
 asked the Duchess whether she didn't like rum-shrub better 
 than all your Maxarinos and Curasosos : and — would you 
 believe it ? — all the company burst out laughing ; and the 
 Duchess told me just to keep off, and not to speak till I 
 was spoken to. Imperence ! I'd like to tear her eyes out." 
 
 " And so I do believe my dearest Jemmy would ! 
 
 A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS. 
 
 Our ball had failed so completely that Jemmy, who was 
 bent still upon fashion, caught eagerly at Tagrag's suggestion, 
 and went down to Tuggeridgeville. If we had a difficulty to 
 find friends in town, here there was none : for the whole county 
 came about us, ate our dinners and suppers, danced at our balls 
 — ay, and spoke to us too. We were great people in fact : I a 
 regular country gentleman ; and as such, Jemmy insisted that I 
 should be a sportsman, and join the county hunt. " But," says 
 I, "my love, I can't ride." " Pooh ! Mr. C," said she, " you're 
 always making difficulties : you couldn't dance a quadrille ; 
 you thought you couldn't dine at seven o'clock ; you thought 
 you couldn't lie in bed after six ; and haven't you done every 
 one of these things ? You must and you shall ride I " And 
 when my Jemmy said " must and shall," I knew very well 
 there was nothing for it : so I sent down fifty guineas to the 
 
A BAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS. 
 
 369 
 
 hunt, and, out of compliment to me, the very next week, I 
 received notice that the meet of the hounds would take place 
 at Squashtaii Common, just outside my lodge-gates. 
 
 I didn't know what a meet was ; and me and Mrs. C. agreed 
 that it was most probable the clogs were to be fed there. 
 However, Tagrag explained this matter to us, and very kindly 
 promised to sell me a horse, a delightful animal of his own ; 
 which, being desperately pressed for money, he would let me 
 have for a hundred guineas, he himself having given a hundred 
 and fifty for it. 
 
 Well, the Thursday came : the hounds met on Squashtaii 
 Common • Mrs. C. turned out in her barouche to see us throw 
 off * and, being helped up on my chestnut horse, Trumpeter, by 
 Tagrag and my head groom, I came presently round to join 
 them. 
 
 Tag mounted his own horse ; and, as we walked down the 
 avenue, "I thought," he said, "you told me you knew how to 
 ride ; and that you had ridden once fifty miles on a stretch ! " 
 
 " And so I did," says I, " to Cambridge, and on the box 
 too." 
 
 " On the box / " says he ; " but did you ever mount a horse 
 before ? " 
 
 " Never," says I, " but I find it mighty easy." 
 
 " Well," says he, " you're mighty bold for a barber ; and I 
 like you, Coxe, for your spirit." And so we came out of the 
 gate. 
 
 As for describing the hunt, I own, fairly, I can't. I've been 
 at a hunt, but what a hunt is — why the horses will go among 
 the dogs and ride them down — why the men cry out " yooooic " 
 — why the dogs go snuffing about in threes and fours, and the 
 huntsman says, " Good Towler — good Betsy," and we all of us 
 after him say, " Good Towler — good Betsy " in course : then, 
 after hearing a yelp here and a howl there, tow, row, yow, yow, 
 yow ! burst out, all of a sudden, from three or four of them, 
 and the chap in a velvet cap screeches out (with a number of 
 oaths I sha'n't repeat here), " Hark, to Ringwood ! " and then, 
 " There he goes ! " says some one • and all of a sudden, helter 
 skelter, skurry hurry, slap bang, whooping, screeching and 
 hurraing, blue-coats and red-coats, bays and grays, horses, dogs, 
 donkeys, butchers, baro-knights, dustmen, and blackguard 
 boys, go tearing all together over the common after two or 
 three of the pack that yowl loudest. Why all this is, I can't 
 say ; but it all took place the second Thursday of last March, 
 in my presence. 
 
37° 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 Up to this, I'd kept my seat as well as the best, for we'd 
 only been trotting gently about the field until the dogs found ; 
 and I managed to stick on very well ; but directly the tow- 
 rowing began, off went Trumpeter like a thunderbolt, and I 
 found myself playing among the dogs like the donkey among 
 the chickens. " Back, Mr. Coxe," holloas the huntsman ; and 
 so I pulled very hard, and cried out, " Wo ! " but he wouldn't ; 
 and on I went galloping for the dear life. How I kept on is a 
 wonder ; but I squeezed my knees in very tight, and shoved my 
 feet very hard into the stirrups, and kept stiff hold of the scruff 
 of Trumpeter's neck, and looked betwixt his ears as well as 
 ever I could, and trusted to luck : for I was in a mortal fright, 
 sure enough, as many a better man would be in such a case, let 
 alone a poor hairdresser. 
 
 As for the hounds, after my first riding in among them, I 
 tell you honestly I never saw so much as the tip of one of their 
 tails ; nothing in this world did I see except Trumpeter's dun- 
 colored mane, and that I griped firm : riding, by the blessing 
 of luck, safe through the walking, the trotting, the galloping, 
 and never so much as getting a tumble. 
 
 There was a chap at Croydon very well known as the 
 " Spicy Dustman," who, when he could get no horse to ride to 
 the hounds, turned regularly out on his donkey ; and on this 
 occasion made one of us. He generally managed to keep up 
 with the dogs by trotting quietly through the cross-roads, and 
 knowing the country well. Well, having a good guess where 
 the hounds would find, and the line that sly Reynolds (as they 
 call the fox) would take, the Spicy Dustman turned his animal 
 down the lane from Squashtail to Cutshins Common ; across 
 which, sure enough, came the whole hunt. There's a small 
 hedge and a remarkably fine ditch here : some of the leading 
 chaps took both, in gallant style ; others went round by a gate, 
 and so would I, only I couldn't ; for Trumpeter would have the 
 hedge, and be hanged to him, and went right for it. 
 
 Hoop ! if ever you did try a leap ! Out go your legs, out 
 fling your arms, off goes your hat ; and the next thing you feel 
 — that is, I did — is a most tremendous thwack across the chest, 
 and my feet jerked out of the stirrups : me left in the branches 
 of a tree ; Trumpeter gone clean from under me, and walloping 
 and floundering in the ditch underneath. One of the stirrup- 
 leathers had caught in a stake, and the horse couldn't get away : 
 and neither of us, I thought, ever would have got away : but all 
 of a sudden, who should come up the lane but the Spicy Dust- 
 man ! 
 
A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS. 
 
 37 1 
 
 Holloa ! " says I, " you gent, just let us down from this 
 here tree ! " 
 
 " Lor' ! " says he, " I'm blest if I didn't take you for a 
 robin." 
 
 " Let's down," says I ; but he was all the time employed in 
 disengaging Trumpeter, whom he got out of the ditch, trembling 
 and as quiet as possible. " Let's down," says I. " Presently," 
 says he ; and taking off his coat, he begins whistling and swish- 
 ing down Trumpeter's sides and saddle ; and when he had 
 finished, what do you think the rascal did?— he just quietly 
 mounted on Trumpeter's back, and shouts out, " Git down your- 
 self, old Bearsgrease ; you've only to drop ! 77/ give your 
 'oss a hairing arter them 'ounds ; and you — vy, you may ride 
 back my pony to Tuggeridgeweal ! " And with this, I'm blest 
 if he didn't ride away, leaving me holding, as for the dear life, 
 and expecting every minute the branch would break. 
 
 It did break too, and down I came into the slush ; and when 
 I got out of it, I can tell you I didn't look much like the Venuses 
 or the Apollor Belvidearis what I used to dress and titivate up 
 for my shop window when I was in the hairdressing line, or 
 smell quite so elegant as our rose-oil. Faugh ! what a figure I 
 was ! 
 
 I had nothing for it but to mount the dustman's donkey 
 (which was very quietly cropping grass in the hedge), and to 
 make my way home ; and after a weary, weary journey, I 
 arrived at my own gate. 
 
 A whole party was assembled there. Tagrag, who had come 
 back ; their Excellencies Mace and Punter, who were on a 
 visit ; and a number of horses walking up and down before the 
 whole of the gentlemen of the hunt, who had come in after 
 losing their fox ! " Here's Squire Coxe ! " shouted the grooms. 
 Out rushed the servants, out poured the gents of the hunt, and 
 on trotted poor me, digging into the donkey, and everybody 
 dying with laughter at me. 
 
 Just as I got up to the door, a horse came galloping up, and 
 passed me ; a man jumped down, and taking off a fantail hat, 
 came up, very gravely, to help me down. 
 
 " Squire," says he, " how came you by that there hanimal ? 
 Jist git down, will you, and give it to its howner ? " 
 
 " Rascal ! " says I, " didn't you ride off on my horse ? " 
 
 " Was there ever sich ingratitude ? " says the Spicy. " I 
 found this year 'oss in a pond, I saves him from drowning, I 
 brings him back to his master, and he calls me a rascal ! " 
 
 The grooms, the gents, the ladies in the balcony, my own 
 
/ 
 
 372 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 servants, all set up a roar at this j and so would I, only I was 
 so deucedly ashamed, as not to be able to laugh just then. 
 
 And so my first day's hunting ended. Tagrag and the rest 
 declared I showed great pluck, and wanted me to try again ; 
 but " No," says I "I have been." 
 
 THE FINISHING TOUCH. 
 
 I was always fond of billiards : and, in former days, at 
 Grogram's in Greek Street, where a few jolly lads of my ac- 
 quaintance used to meet twice a week for a game, and a snug 
 pipe and beer, I was generally voted the first man of the club ; 
 and could take five from John the marker himself. I had a 
 genius, in fact, for the. game ; and now that I was placed in 
 that station of life where I could cultivate my talents, I gave 
 them full play, and improved amazingly. I do say that I think 
 myself as good a hand as any chap in England. 
 
 The Count and his Excellency Baron von Punter were, I 
 can tell you, astonished by the smartness of my play : the first 
 two or three rubbers Punter beat me, but when I came to know 
 his game, I used to knock him all to sticks ; or, at least, win 
 six games to his four : and such was the betting upon me • his 
 Excellency losing large sums to the Count, who knew what play 
 was, and used to back me. I did not play except for shillings, 
 so my skill was of no great service to me. 
 
 One day I entered the billiard-room where these three gen- 
 tlemen were high in words. " The thing shall not be done," 
 I heard Captain Tagrag say : " I won't stand it." 
 
 " Vat, begause you would have de bird all to yourzelf, hey ? " 
 said the Baron. 
 
 " You sail not have a single fezare of him, begar," said the 
 Count : " ve vill blow you, M. de Taguerague ; parole d'hon- 
 neur, ve vill." 
 
 "What's all this, gents," says I, stepping in, "about birds 
 and feathers ? " 
 
 "Oh," says Tagrag, "we were talking about — about — 
 pigeon-shooting ; the Count here says .he will blow the bird all 
 to pieces at twenty yards, and I said I wouldn't stand it, be- 
 cause it was regular murder." 
 
 "Oh, yase, it was bidgeon-shooting," cries the Baron : "and 
 
THE FINISHING TOUCH. 
 
 373 
 
 I know no better short. Have you been bidgeon-shooting, my 
 dear Squire ? De fon is gabidal." 
 
 " No doubt/' says I, " for the shooters, mighty bad sport 
 for the pigeon" And this joke set them all a-laughing ready 
 to die. I didn't know then what a good joke it was, neither ; 
 but I gave Master Baron, that day, a precious good beating, 
 and walked off with no less than fifteen shillings of his money. 
 
 As a sporting man, and a man of fashion, I need not say 
 that I took in the Flare-up regularly ; ay, and wrote one or two 
 trifles in that celebrated publication (one of my papers, which 
 Tagrag subscribed for me, Philo-pestitiasamicus, on the proper 
 sauce for teal and widgeon — and the other, signed Scru-tatos, 
 on the best means of cultivating the kidney species of that veg- 
 etable—made no small noise at the time, and got me in the 
 paper a compliment from the editor). I was a constant reader 
 of the Notices to Correspondents, and, my early education 
 having been rayther neglected, (for I was taken from my stud- 
 ies and set, as is the custom in our trade, to practice on a 
 sheep's head at the tender age of nine years, before I was al- 
 lowed to venture on the humane countenance,) — I say, being 
 thus curtailed and cut off in my classical learning, I must con- 
 fess I managed to pick up a pretty smattering of genteel infor- 
 mation from that treasury of all sorts of knowledge ; at least 
 sufficient to make me a match in learning for all the noblemen 
 and gentlemen who came to our house. Well, on looking over 
 the Flare-up notices to correspondents, I read, one day last 
 April, among the notices, as follows : — 
 
 " \ Automodon.' We do not know the precise age of Mr. 
 Baker of Covent Garden Theatre ; nor are we aware if that 
 celebrated son of Thespis is a married man. 
 
 " [ Ducks and Green-peas ' is informed, that when A plays 
 his rook to B's second Knight's square, and B, moving two 
 squares with his Queen's pawn, gives check to his adversary's 
 Queen, there is no reason why B's Queen should not take A's 
 pawn, if B be so inclined. 
 
 " ' F. L. S.' We have repeatedly answered the question 
 about Madame Vestris : her maiden name was Bartolozzi, and 
 she married the son of Charles Mathews, the celebrated come- 
 dian. 
 
 " ' Fair Play.' The best amateur billiard and ecarte player 
 in England, is Coxe Tuggeridge Coxe, Esq., of Portland Place, 
 and Tuggeridgeville : Jonathan, who knows his play, can only 
 give him two in a game of a hundred"; and, at the cards, no man 
 is his superior. Verbum Sap. 
 
374 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 " ■ Scipio Americanus ' is a blockhead." 
 
 I read this out to the Count and Tagrag, and both of them 
 wondered how; the Editor of that tremendous Flare-up should 
 get such information • and both agreed that the Baron, who 
 still piqued himself absurdly on his play, would be vastly an- 
 noyed by seeing me preferred thus to himself. We read him 
 the paragraph, and preciously angry he was. " Id is," he cried, 
 " the tables " (or " de dabels" as he called them), — " de horrid 
 dabels ; gum viz me to London, and dry a slate-table, and I 
 vill beat you." We all roared at this ■ and the end of this dis- 
 pute was, that, just to satisfy the fellow, I agreed to play his 
 Excellency at slate-tables, or any tables he chose. 
 
 " Gut," says he, " gut ; I lif, you know, at Abednego's, in de 
 Quadrant ; his dabels is goot } ve vill blay dere, if you vill." 
 And I said I would : and it was agreed that, one Saturday 
 night, when Jemmy was at the Opera, we should go to the 
 Baron's rooms, and give him a chance. 
 
 We went, and the little Baron had as fine a supper as ever 
 I saw : lots of Champang (and I didn't rrtind drinking it), and 
 plenty of laughing and fun. Afterwards, down we went to 
 billiards. " Is dish Misther Coxsh, de shelebrated player ? " 
 says Mr. Abednego, who was in the room, with one or two 
 gentlemen of his own persuasion, and several foreign noblemen, 
 dirty, snuffy, and hairy, as them foreigners are. " Is dish 
 Misther Coxsh ? blesh my hart, it is a honer to see you ; I 
 have heard so much of your play." 
 
 " Come, come," says I, "sir" — for I'm pretty wide awake 
 — " none of your gammon ; you're not going to hook me." 
 
 " No, begar, dis fish you not catch," says Count Mace. 
 — "Dat is gut! — haw! haw!" snorted the Baron. "Hook 
 him ! Lieber Himmel, you might dry and hook me as well. 
 Haw ! haw ! " 
 
 Well, we went to play. " Five to four on Coxe," screams 
 out the Count. — " Done and done," says another nobleman. 
 " Ponays," says the Count. — " Done," says the nobleman. " I 
 vill take your six crowns to four," says the Baron. — " Done," 
 says I. And, in the twinkling of an eye, I beat him ; once 
 making thirteen off the balls without stopping. 
 
 We had some more wine after this ; and if you could have 
 seen the long faces of the other noblemen, as they pulled out 
 their pencils and wrote L O. U.'s for the Count ! " Va toujours, 
 mon cher," says he to me, "you have von for me three hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 " I'll blay you guineas dis time," says the Baron. " Zeven 
 
A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA. 
 
 to four you must give me though. " And so I did : and in ten 
 minutes that game was won, and the Baron handed over his 
 pounds. " Two hundred and sixty more, my dear, dear Coxe," 
 says the Count ; " you are mon ange gardien!" "Wot a flat 
 Misther Coxsh is, not to back his luck," I heard Abednego 
 whisper to one of the foreign noblemen. 
 
 " I'll take your seven to four, in tens," said I to the Baron. 
 " Give me three," says he, " and done." I gave him three, and 
 lost the game by one. " Dobbel, or quits," says he. " Go it," 
 says I, up to my mettle : " Sam Coxe never says no ; " — and to 
 it we went. I went in, and scored eighteen to his five. " Holy 
 Moshesh ! " says Abednego, " dat little Coxsh is a vonder ! 
 who'll take odds ? " 
 
 " I'll give twenty to one," says I, " in guineas." 
 
 " Ponays ; yase, done," screams out the Count. 
 
 " Bonies, done," roars out the Baron : and, before I could 
 
 speak, went in, and — would you believe it ? — in two minutes he 
 
 somehow made the game ! 
 
 # # # # f 
 
 Oh, what a figure I cut when my dear Jemmy heard of this 
 afterwards ! In vain I swore it was guineas : the Count and 
 the Baron swore to ponies ; and when I refused, they both said 
 their honor was concerned, and they must have my life, or their 
 money. So when the Count showed me actually that, in spite 
 of this bet (which had been too good to resist) won from me, 
 he had been a very heavy loser by the night; and brought me 
 the word of honor of Abednego, his Jewish friend, and the 
 foreign noblemen, that ponies had been betted ; — why, I paid 
 them one thousand pounds sterling of good and lawful money. 
 — But I've not played for money since : no, no ; catch me at 
 that again if you can. 
 
 A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA. 
 
 No lady is a lady without having a box at the Opera : so 
 my Jemmy, who knew as much about music, — bless her ! — as I 
 do about Sanscrit, algebra, or any other foreign language, took 
 a prime box on the second tier. It was what they called a 
 double box ; it really could hold two, that is, very comfortably ; 
 and we got it a great bargain — for five hundred a year ! 
 Here. Tuesdays and Saturdays, we used regularly to take our 
 
376 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 places, Jemmy and Jemimarann sitting in front ; me, behind i 
 but as my dear wife used to wear a large fantail gauze hat with 
 ostrich feathers, birds of paradise, artificial flowers, and tags of 
 muslin or satin, scattered all over it, I'm blest if she didn't fill 
 the whole of the front of the box ; and it was only by jumping 
 and dodging, three or four times in the course of the night, 
 that I could manage to get a sight of the actors. By kneeling 
 down, and looking steady under my darling Jemmy's sleeve, I 
 did contrive, every now and then, to have a peep of Senior 
 Lablash's boots, in the " Puritanny," and once actually saw 
 Madame Gerasi's crown and head-dress in " Annybalony." 
 
 What a place that Opera is, to be sure ! and what enjoy- 
 ments us aristocracy used to have ! Just as you have swal- 
 lowed down your three courses (three curses I used to call 
 them ; — for so, indeed, they are, causing a deal of heartburns, 
 headaches, doctor's bills, pills, want of sleep, and such) — just, I 
 say, as you get down your three courses, which I defy any man 
 to enjoy properly unless he has two hours of drink and quiet 
 afterwards, up comes the carriage, in bursts my Jemmy, as fine 
 as a duchess, and scented like our shop. " Come, my dear," 
 says she, " it's ' Normy ' to-night " (or " Annybalony," or the 
 " Nosey di Figaro," or the " Gazzylarder," as the case maybe). 
 " Mr. Coster strikes off punctually at eight, and you know it's 
 the fashion to be always present at the very first bar of the 
 aperture." And so off we are obliged to budge, to be mis- 
 erable for five hours, and to have a headache for the next 
 twelve, and all because it's the fashion ! 
 
 After the aperture, as they call it, comes the opera, which, 
 as I am given to understand, is the Italian for singing. Why 
 they should sing in Italian, I can't conceive.; or why they should 
 do nothing but sing. Bless us ! how I used to long for the 
 wooden magpie in the "Gazzylarder " to fly up to the top of the 
 church-steeple, with the silver spoons, and see the chaps with 
 the pitchforks come in and carry off that wicked Don June. 
 Not that I don't admire Lablash, and Rubini, and his brother, 
 Tomrubini : him who has that fine bass voice, I mean, and acts 
 the Corporal in the first piece, and Don June in the second ; 
 but three hours is a little too much, for you can't sleep on those 
 little rickety seats in the boxes. 
 
 The opera is bad, enough ; but what is that to the bally ? 
 You should have seen my Jemmy the first night when she 
 stopped to see it ; and when Madamsalls Fanny and Theresa 
 Hustler came forward, along with a gentleman, to dance, you 
 should have seen how Jemmy stared, and our girl blushed, 
 
A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA. 
 
 when Madamsall Fanny, coming forward, stood on the tips of 
 only five of her toes, and raising up the other five, and the foot 
 belonging to them, almost to her shoulder, twirled round, and 
 round, and round, like a teetotum, for a couple of minutes or 
 more ; and as she settled down, at last, on both feet, in a natu- 
 ral decent posture, you should have heard how the house roared 
 with applause, the boxes clapping with all their might, and wav- 
 ing their handkerchiefs 5 the pit shouting, " Bravo ! " Some 
 people, who, I suppose, were rather angry at such an exhibition, 
 threw bunches of flowers at her ; and what do you think she 
 did ? Why, hang me, if she did not come forward, as though 
 nothing had happened, gather up the things they had thrown 
 at her, smile, press them to her heart, and begin whirling round 
 again, faster than ever. Talk about coolness, / never saw such 
 in all my born days. 
 
 " Nasty thing ! " says Jemmy, starting up in a fury ; " if 
 women will act so, it serves them right to be treated so." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! she acts beautifully," says our friend his Ex- 
 cellency, who, along with Baron von Punter and Tagrag, used 
 very seldom to miss coming to our box. 
 
 " She may act very beautifully, Munseer, but she don't dress 
 so ; and I am very glad they threw that orange-peel and all 
 those things at her, and that the people waved to her to get 
 off." 
 
 Here his Excellency, and the Baron and Tag, set up a roar 
 of laughter. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Coxe," says Tag, " those are the most fa- 
 mous dancers in the world ; and we throw myrtle, geraniums, 
 and lilies and roses at them, in token of our immense admira- 
 tion ! " 
 
 " Well, I never ! " said my wife ; and poor Jemimarann 
 slunk behind the curtain, and looked as red as it almost. 
 After the one had done, the next begun ; but when, all of a 
 sudden, a somebody came skipping and bounding in, like an 
 india-rubber ball, flinging itself up, at least six feet from the 
 stage, and there shaking about its legs like mad, we were more 
 astonished than ever ! 
 
 " That's Anatole," says one of the gentlemen. 
 
 "Anna who?" says my wife ; and she might well be mis- 
 taken : for this person had a hat and feathers, a bare neck and 
 arms, great black ringlets, and a little calico frock, which came 
 down to the knees. 
 
 " Anatole. You would not think he was sixty-three years 
 old, he's as activ% as a man of twentv." 
 
37* 
 
 COX'S DIARY, 
 
 " He ! " shrieked out my wife ; " what, is that there a man ? 
 For shame ! Munseer. Jemimarann, dear, get your cloak, and 
 come along ; and I'll thank you, my dear, to call our people, 
 and let us go home." 
 
 You wouldn't think, after this, that my Jemmy, who had 
 shown such a horror at the bally, as they call it, should ever 
 grow accustomed to it ; but she liked to hear her name shout 
 ed out in the crush-room, and so would stop till the end of 
 everything ; and, law bless you ! in three weeks from that time, 
 she could look at the ballet as she would at a dancing-dog in 
 the streets, and would bring her double-barrelled opera-glass 
 up to her eyes as coolly as if she had been a born duchess. 
 As for me, I did at Rome as Rome does ; and precious fun it 
 used to be, sometimes. 
 
 My friend the Baron insisted one night on my going behind 
 the scenes ; where, being a subscriber, he said I had what they 
 call my ontray. Behind, then, I went ; and such a place you 
 never saw nor heard of ! Fancy lots of young and old gents 
 of the fashion crowding round and staring at the actresses prac- 
 tising their steps. Fancy yellow snuffy foreigners, chattering 
 always, and smelling fearfully of tobacco. Fancy scores of 
 Jews, with hookednoses and black muzzles, covered with rings, 
 chains, sham diamonds, and gold waistcoats. Fancy old men 
 dressed in old night-gowns, with knock-knees, and dirty flesh- 
 colored cotton stockings, and dabs of brick-dust on their 
 wrinkled old chops, and tow-wigs (such wigs !) for the bald ones, 
 and great tin spears in their hands mayhap, or else shepherds' 
 crooks, and fusty garlands of flowers made of red and green 
 baize. Fancy troops of girls giggling, chattering, pushing to 
 and fro, amidst old black canvas, Gothic halls, thrones, paste- 
 board Cupids, dragons, and such like. Such dirt, darkness, 
 crowd, confusion and gabble of all conceivable languages was 
 never known ! 
 
 If you could but have seen Munseer Anatole ! Instead of 
 looking twenty he looked a thousand. . The old man's wig was 
 off, and a barber was giving it a touch with the tongs ; Munseer 
 was taking snuff himself, and a boy was standing by with a pint 
 of beer from the public-house at the corner of Charles Street. 
 
 I met with a little accident during the three-quarters of an 
 hour which they allow for the entertainment of us men of- 
 fashion on the stage, before the curtain draws up for the bally, 
 while the ladies in the boxes are gaping, and the people in the 
 pit are drumming with their feet and canes in the rudest man- 
 ner possible, as though they couldn't wait. * 
 
STRIKING A BALANCE. 
 
 379 
 
 Just at the moment before the little bell rings and the cur- 
 tain flies up, and we scuffle off to the sides (for we always stay 
 till the very last moment), I was in the middle of the stage, 
 making myself very affable to the fair figgerantys which was 
 spinning and twirling about me, and asking them if they wasn't 
 cold, and such like politeness, in the most condescending way 
 possible, when a bolt was suddenly withdrawn, and down I 
 popped, through a trap in the stage, into the place below. 
 Luckily, I was stopped by a piece of machinery, consisting of a 
 heap of green blankets and a young lady coming up as Venus 
 rising from the sea. If I had not fallen so soft, I don't know 
 what might have been the consequence of the collusion. I 
 never told Mrs. Coxe, for she can't bear to hear of my paying 
 the least attention to the fair sex. 
 
 STRIKING A BALANCE. 
 
 Next door to us, in Portland Place, lived the Right Honor- 
 able the Earl of Kilblazes, of Kilmacrasy Castle, county Kil- 
 dare, and his mother, the Dowager Countess. Lady Kilblazes 
 had a daughter, Lady Juliana Matilda Mac Turk, of the exact 
 age of our dear Jemimarann ; and a son, the Honorable Arthur 
 Wellington Anglesea Blucher Bulow Mac Turk, only ten months 
 older than our boy Tug. 
 
 My darling Jemmy is a woman of spirit, and, as become her 
 station, made every possible attempt to become acquainted with 
 the Dowager Countess of Kilblazes, which her ladyship (because, 
 forsooth, she was the daughter of the Minister, and Prince of 
 Wales's great friend, the Earl of Portansherry) thought fit to 
 reject. I don't wonder at my Jemmy growing so angry with 
 her, and determining, in every way, to put her ladyship down. 
 The Kilblazes' estate is not so large as the Tuggericlge prop- 
 erty by two thousand a year at least ; and so my wife, when 
 our neighbors kept only two footmen, was quite authorized in 
 having three ; and she made it a point, as soon as ever the 
 Kilblazes' carriage-and-pair came round, to have out her own 
 carriage-and-four. 
 
 Well, our box was next to theirs at the Opera ; only twice 
 as big. Whatever masters went to Lady Juliana, came to my 
 Jemimarann ; and what do you think Jemmy did ? she got her 
 
3 8o 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 celebrated governess, Madame de Flicflac, away from the 
 Countess, by offering a double salary. It was quite a treasure, 
 they said, to have Madame Flicflac : she had been (to support 
 her father, the Count, when he emigrated) a French dancer at 
 the Italian Opera. French dancing, and Italian, therefore, we 
 had at once, and in the best style : it is astonishing how quick 
 and well she used to speak — the French especially. 
 
 Master Arthur Mac Turk was at the famous school of the 
 Reverend Clement Coddler, along with a hundred and ten 
 other young fashionables, from the age of three to fifteen ; and 
 to this establishment Jemmy sent our Tug, adding forty guineas 
 to the hundred and twenty paid every year for the boarders. I 
 think I found out the dear soul's reason ; for, one day, speak- 
 ing about the school to a mutual acquaintance of ours and the 
 Kilblazes, she whispered to him that " she never would have 
 thought of sending her darling boy at the rate which her next- 
 door neighbors paid ; their lad, she was sure, must be starved : 
 however, poor people, they did the best they could on their 
 income ! " 
 
 Coddler's, in fact, was the tip-top school near London ; he 
 had been tutor to the Duke of Buckminster, who had set him 
 up in the school, and, as I tell you, all the peerage and respect- 
 able commoners came to it. You read in the bill, (the snopsis, 
 I think, Coddler called it,) after the account of the charges for 
 board, masters, extras, &c. — " Every young nobleman (or 
 gentleman) is expected to bring a knife, fork, spoon and goblet 
 of silver (to prevent breakage), which will not be returned ; a 
 dressing-gown and slippers ; toilet-box, pomatum, curling-irons, 
 &c, &c. The pupil must on no account be allowed to have 
 more then ten guineas of pocket-money, unless his parents 
 particularly desire it, or he be above fifteen years of age. 
 Wine will be an extra charge ; as are warm, vapor, and douche 
 baths. Carriage exercise will be provided at the rate of fifteen 
 guineas per quarter. It is earnestly requested that no young 
 nobleman (or gentleman) be allowed to smoke. In a place 
 devoted to the cultivation of polite literature, such an ignoble 
 enjoyment were profane. 
 
 " Clement Coddler, M. A., 
 
 " Chaplain and late tutor to his Grace the 
 " Mount Parnassus, Richmond, Surrey. Duke of Buckminster." 
 
 To this establishment our Tug was sent. " Recollect, my 
 dear/' said his mamma, " that you are a Tuggeridge by birth, 
 and that I expect you to beat all the boys in the school ; espe- 
 
STRIKING A BALANCE. 
 
 381 
 
 cially that Wellington Mac Turk, who,, though he is a lord's 
 son, is nothing to you, who are the heir of Tuggeridgeville." 
 
 Tug was a smart young fellow enough, and could cut and 
 curl as well as any young chap of his age : he was not a bad 
 hand at a wig either, and could shave, too, very prettily \ but 
 that was in the old time, when we were not great people : when 
 he came to be a gentleman, he had to learn Latin and Greek, 
 and had a deal of lost time to make up for, on going to school. 
 
 However, we had no fear ; for the Reverend Mr. Coddler 
 used to send monthly accounts of his pupil's progress, and if 
 Tug was not a wonder of the world, I don't know who was. It 
 was 
 
 And so on : — he possessed all the virtues, and wrote to us 
 every month for money. My dear Jemmy and I determined to 
 go and see him, after he had been at school a quarter ; we 
 went, and were shown by Mr. Coddler, one of the meekest, 
 smilingest little men I ever saw, into the bedrooms and eating- 
 rooms (the dromitaries and refractories he called them), which 
 were all as comfortable as comfortable might be. " It is a 
 holiday to-day," said Mr. Coddler ; and a holiday it seemed to 
 be. In the dining-room were half a dozen young gentlemen 
 playing at cards (" All tip-top nobility," observed Mr. Coddler;) 
 — in the bedrooms there was only one gent : he was lying on 
 his bed, reading novels and smoking cigars. " Extraordinary 
 genius ! " whispered Coddler. " Honorable Tom Fitz-Warter, 
 cousin of Lord Byron's • smokes all day ; and has written the 
 sweetest poems you can imagine. Genius, my dear madam, you 
 know — genius must have its way." " Well, upon my word," 
 says Jemmy, " if that's genius, I had rather that Master Tug- 
 geridge Coxe Tuggeridge remained a dull fellow." 
 
 " Impossible, my dear madam," said Coddler. " Mr. Tug- 
 geridge Coxe couldn't be stupid if he tried." 
 
 Just then up comes Lord Claude Lollypop, third son of the 
 Marquis of Allycompane. We were introduced instantly : 
 " Lord Claude Lollypop, Mr. and Mrs. Coxe." The little lord 
 wagged his head, my wife bowed very low, and so did Mr. 
 Coddler ; who, as he saw my lord making for the playground, 
 begged him to show us the way. — " Come along," says my lord ; 
 and as he walked before us, whistling, we had leisure to remark 
 the beautiful holes in his jacket, and elsewhere. 
 
 General behavior 
 English , 
 French . 
 Latin 
 
 excellent, 
 very good, 
 tres bien. 
 optime. 
 
382 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 About twenty young noblemen (and gentlemen) were 
 gathered round a pastry-cook's shop at the end of the gieen. 
 " ^hat's the grub-shop,'' said my lord, " where we young 
 gentlemen wot has money buys our wittles, and them young 
 gentlemen wot has none, goes tick." 
 
 Then we passed a poor red-haired usher sitting on a bench 
 alone. " That's Mr. Hicks, the Husher, ma'am," says my lord. 
 " We keep him, for he's very useful to throw stones at, and he 
 keeps the chaps' coats when there's a fight, or a game at cricket. 
 — Well, Hicks, how's your mother ? what's the row now ? " 
 fc< I believe, my lord," said the usher, very meekly, " there is a 
 pugilistic encounter somewhere on the premises — the Honora- 
 ble Mr. Mac " 
 
 " Oh ! come along," said Lord Lollypop, " come along ; this 
 way, ma'am ! Go it, ye cripples ! " And my lord pulled up 
 my dear Jemmy's gown in the kindest and most familiar way, 
 she trotting on after him, mightily pleased to be so taken no- 
 tice of, and I after her. A little boy went running across the 
 green. " Who is it, Petitoes ? " screams my lord. " Turk and 
 the barber," pipes Petitoes, and runs to the pastry-cook's like 
 
 mad. " Turk and the ba ," laughs out my lord' looking at 
 
 us. " Hurra! this way, ma'am ! " And turning round a cor- 
 ner, he opened a door into a court-yard, where a number of 
 boys were collected, and a great noise of shrill voices might 
 be heard. " Go it, Turk ! " says one. " Go it, barber ! " says 
 another. " Punch hith life out ! " roars another, whose voice was 
 just cracked, and his clothes half a yard too short for him ! 
 
 Fancy our horror when, on the crowd making way, we saw 
 Tug pummelling away at the Honorable Master MacTurk ! My 
 dear Jemmy, who don't understand such things, pounced upon 
 the two at once, and, with one hand tearing away Tug, sent him 
 back into the arms of his seconds, while, with the other, she 
 clawed hold of Master MacTurk's red hair, and as soon as she 
 got her second hand free, banged it about his face and ears 
 like a good one. 
 
 " You nasty — wicked — quarrelsome — aristocratic " (each 
 word was a bang) — " aristocratic — oh ! oh ! oh ! " — Here the 
 words stopped ; for what with the agitation, maternal solicitude, 
 and a dreadful kick on the shins which, I am ashamed to say, 
 Master MacTurk administered, my dear Jemmy could bear it 
 no longer, and sunk fainting away in my arms. 
 
DOWN AT BEULAH. 
 
 3^3 
 
 DOWN AT BEULAH. 
 
 Although there was a regular cut between the next-door 
 people and us, yet Tug and the Honorable Master MacTurk 
 kept up their acquaintance over the back-garden wall, and in 
 the stables, where they were fighting, making friends, and play- 
 ing tricks from morning to night, during the holidays. Indeed, 
 it was from young Mac that we first heard of Madame de 
 Flicflac, of whom my Jemmy robbed Lady Kilblazes, as I 
 before have related. When our friend the Baron first saw 
 Madame, a very tender greeting passed between them ; for they 
 had, as it appeared, been old friends abroad. " Sapristie," 
 said the Baron, in his lingo, "que fais-tu ici, Amena'ide ? " " Et 
 toi, mon pauvre Chicot," says she, "est-ce qu'on t'a mis a la 
 retraite ? " II parait qu tu n'est plus General chez Franco- — " 
 " Chut!" says the Baron, putting his finger to his lips. 
 
 " What are they saying, my dear ? " says my wife to Jem- 
 imarann, who had a pretty knowledge of the language by this 
 time. 
 
 "I don't know what ' Sapristie 1 means, mamma; but the 
 Baron asked Madame what she was doing here ? and Madame 
 said, 6 And you, Chicot, you are no more a General at Franco/ 
 — Have I not translated rightly, Madame ? " 
 
 " Oui, mon chou, mon ange. Yase, my angel, my cabbage, 
 quite right. Figure yourself, I have known my dear Chicot dis 
 twenty years. " 
 
 " Chicot is my name of baptism," says the Baron ; " Baron 
 Chicot de Punter is my name." 
 
 " And being a General at Franco," says Jemmy, " means, I 
 suppose, being a French General ? " 
 
 " Yes, I vas," said he, " General Baron de Punter — n'est 'a 
 pas, Amenaide ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes!" said Madame Flicflac, and laughed; and I 
 and Jemmy laughed out of politeness : and a pretty laughing 
 matter it was, as you shall hear. 
 
 About this time my Jemmy became one of the Lady-Patron- 
 esses of that admirable institution, " The Washerwoman's- 
 Orphans Home < " Lady de Sudley was the great projector of 
 it ; and the manager and chaplain, the excellent and Reverend 
 Sidney Siopper. His salary, as chaplain, and that of Doctor 
 Leitch, the physician (both cousins of her ladyship's), drew away 
 
3^4 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 five hundred pounds from the six subscribed to the Charity : and 
 Lady de Sudley thought a fete at Beulah Spa, with the aid of 
 some of the foreign princes who were in town last year, might 
 bring a little more money into its treasury. A tender appeal 
 was accordingly drawn up, and published in all the papers : — 
 
 "APPEAL. 
 
 "BRITISH WASHERWOMAN'S-ORPHANS' HOME. 
 
 " The 1 Washerwoman's-Orphans' Home ' has now been es- 
 tablished seven years : and the good which it has effected is, it 
 may be confidently stated, incalculable. Ninety-eight orphan 
 children of Washerwomen have been lodged within its walls. 
 One hundred and two British Washerwomen have been relieved 
 when in the last state of decay. One hundred and ninety- 
 eight thousand articles of male and female dress have been 
 washed, mended, buttoned, ironed, and mangled in the Estab- 
 lishment. And by an arrangement with the governors of the 
 Foundling, it is hoped that the Baby-linen of that Hospital 
 will be confided to the British Washerwoman's Home ! 
 
 "With such prospects before it, is it not sad, is it not 
 lamentable to' think, that the Patronesses of the Society have 
 been compelled to reject the applications of no less than three 
 
 THOUSAND EIGHT HUNDRED AND ONE BRITISH WASHERWOMEN, 
 
 from lack of means for their support ? Ladies of England ! 
 Mothers of England ! to you we appeal. Is there one of you 
 that will not respond to the cry in behalf of these deserving 
 members of our sex ? 
 
 " It has been determined by the Ladies-Patronesses to give 
 a fete at Beulah Spa, on Thursday, July 25 ; which will be 
 graced with the first foreign and native talent \ by the first 
 foreign and native rank ; and where they beg for the attend- 
 ance of every washerwoman's friend." 
 
 Her Highness the Princess of Schloppenzollernschwigma- 
 ringen, the Duke of Sacks-Tubbingen, His Excellency Baron 
 Strumpff, His Excellency Lootf-Allee-Koolee-Bismillah-Mo- 
 hamed-Rusheed- Allah, the Persian Ambassador, Prince Futtee- 
 Jaw, Envoy from the King of Oude, His Excellency Don 
 Alonzo di Cachachero-y- Fandango -y-Castanete, the Spanish 
 Ambassador, Count Ravioli, from Milan, the Envoy of the 
 Republic of Topinambo, and a host of other fashionables, prom- 
 ised to honor the festival : and their names made a famous 
 show in the bills. Besides these, we had the celebrated band 
 
DO WN A T BEULAH. 
 
 385 
 
 of Moscowmusiks, the seventy-seven Transylvanian trumpeters, 
 and the famous Bohemian Minnesingers \ with all the leading 
 artists of London, Paris, the Continent, and the rest of Europe. 
 
 I leave you to fancy what a splendid triumph for the British 
 Washerwoman's Home was to come off on that day. A beauti- 
 ful tent was erected, in whrch the Ladies-Patronesses were to 
 meet : it was hung round with specimens of the skill of the 
 washerwomen's orphans ; ninety-six of whom were to be feasted 
 in the gardens, and waited on by the Ladies-Patronesses. 
 
 Well, Jemmy and my daughter, Madam de Flicflac, myself, 
 the Count Baron Punter, Tug, and Tagrag, all went down in 
 the chariot, and barouche-and-four, quite eclipsing poor Lady 
 Kilblazes and her carriage-and-two. 
 
 There was a fine cold collation, to which the friends of the 
 Ladies-Patronesses were admitted ; after which, my ladies and 
 their beaux went strolling through the walks • Tagrag and the 
 Count having each an arm of Jemmy ; the Baron giving an 
 arm apiece to Madame and Jemimarann. Whilst they were 
 walking, whom should they light upon but poor Orlando Crump, 
 my successor in the perfumery and hair-cutting. 
 
 " Orlando ! " says Jemimarann, blushing as red as a label, 
 and holding out her hand. 
 
 " Jemimar ! " says he, holding out his, and turning as white 
 as pomatum. 
 
 " Sir I " says Jemmy, as stately as a duchess. 
 
 " W T hat ! madam," says poor Crump, " don't you remember 
 your shopboy ? " 
 
 " Dearest mamma, don't you recollect Orlando ? " whimpers 
 Jemimarann, whose hand he had got hold of. 
 
 " Miss Tuggeridge Coxe," says Jemmy, " I'm surprised of 
 you. Remember, sir, that our position is altered, and oblige 
 me by no more familiarity." 
 
 " Insolent fellow ! " says the Baron, " vat is dis canaille ? " 
 
 "Canal yourself, Mounseer," says Orlando, now grown 
 quite furious: he broke away, quite indignant, and was soon 
 lost in the crowd. Jemimarann, as soon as he was gone, began 
 to look very pale and ill ; and her mamma, therefore, took her 
 to a tent, where she left her along with Madame Flicflac and 
 the Baron ; going ofiE herself with the other gentlemen, in order 
 to join us. 
 
 It appears they had not been seated very long, when 
 Madame Flicflac suddenly sprung up, with an exclamation of 
 joy, and rushed forward to a friend whom she saw pass. 
 
 The Baron was left alone with Jemimarann ; and whether 
 
3*« 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 it was the champagne, or that my dear girl looked more than 
 commonly pretty, I don't know ; but Madam Flicflac had not 
 been gone a minute, when the Baron dropped on his knees, and 
 made her a regular declaration. 
 
 Poor Orlando Crump had found me out by /this time, and 
 was standing by my side, listening, as melancholy as possible, 
 to the famous Bohemian Minnesingers, who were singing the 
 celebrated words of the poet Gothy : — 
 
 " Ich bin ya hupp lily lee, du bist ya hupp lily lee, 
 Wir sind doch hupp lily lee, hupp la lily lee." 
 " Chorus — Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle hupp ! yodle-odle-aw-o-o-o ! " 
 
 They were standing with their hands in their waistcoats, as 
 usual, and had just come to the " o-o-o," at the end of the 
 chorus of the forty-seventh stanza, when Orlando started : 
 u That's a scream ! " says he. " Indeed it is," says I ; " and, 
 but for the fashion of the thing, a very ugly scream too : " when 
 I heard another shrill " Oh ! " as I thought ; and Orlando bolt- 
 ed off, crying, " By heavens, it's her voice ! " " Whose voice ? " 
 says I. " Come and see the row," says Tag. And off we went, 
 with a considerable number of people, who saw this strange 
 move on his part. 
 
 We came to the tent, and there we found my poor Jemimar- 
 ann fainting ; her mamma holding a smelling-bottle ; the Baron, 
 on the ground, holding a handkerchief on his bleeding nose ; 
 and Orlando squaring at him, and calling on him to fight if he 
 dared. 
 
 My Jemmy looked at Crump very fierce. " Take that feller 
 away," says she; "he has insulted a French nobleman, and 
 deserves transportation, at the least." 
 
 Poor Orlando was carried off. " I've no patience with the 
 little minx," says Jemmy, giving Jemimarann a pinch. " She 
 might be a Baron's lady ; and she screams out because his 
 Excellency did but squeeze her hand." 
 
 " Oh, mamma ! mamma ! " sobs poor Jemimarann, "but he 
 was t-t-tipsy." 
 
 " T-t-tipsy ! and the more shame for you, you hussy, to be 
 offended with a nobleman who does not know what he is doing." 
 
A TOURNAMENT. 
 
 387 
 
 A TOURNAMENT. 
 
 " I say, Tug," said Mac Turk, one day soon after our flare- 
 up at Beulah, " Kilblazes comes of age in October, and then 
 we'll cut you out, as I told you : the old barberess will die of 
 spite when she hears what we are going to do. What do you 
 think ? we're going to have a tournament ! " " What's a tour- 
 nament ? " says Tug, and so said his mamma when she heard 
 the news ~ and when she knew what a tournament was, I think, 
 really, she was as angry as Mac Turk said she would be, and 
 gave us no peace for days together. " What ! " says she, 
 " dress up in armor, like play-actors, and run at each other 
 with spears ? The Kilblazes must be mad ! " And so I thought, 
 but I didn't think the Tuggeridges would be mad too, as they 
 were : for, when Jemmy heard that the Kilblazes' festival was 
 to be, as yet, a profound secret, what does she do, but send 
 down to the Morning Post a flaming account of 
 
 " THE PASSAGE OF ARMS AT TUGGERIDGEVILLE ! 
 
 The days of chivalry are not past. The fair Castellane of 
 T-gg-r-dgeville, whose splendid entertainments have so often 
 been alluded to in this paper, has determined to give one, which 
 shall exceed in splendor even the magnificence of the Middle 
 Ages. We are not at liberty to say more ; but a tournament, 
 at which His Ex-l-ncy B-r-n de P-nt-r and Thomas T-gr-g, 
 Esq., eldest son of Sir Th — s T-gr-g, are to be the knights- 
 defendants against all comers ; a Quee?t of Beauty, of whose 
 loveliness every frequenter of fashion has felt the power • a 
 banquet, unexampled in the annals of Gunter ; and a ball in 
 which the recollections of ancient chivalry will blend sweetly 
 with the soft tones of Weippert and Collinet, are among the 
 entertainments which the Ladye of T-gg-ridgeville has pre- 
 pared for her distinguished guests." 
 
 The Baron was the life of the scheme : he longed to be on 
 horseback, and in the field at Tuggeridgeville, where he, 
 Tagrag, and a number of our friends practised : he was the very 
 best tilter present ; he vaulted over his horse, and played such 
 wonderful antics, as never were done except at Ducrow's. 
 
 And now — oh that I had twenty pages, instead of this short 
 
3 88 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 chapter, to describe the wonders of the day ! — Twenty-four 
 knights came from Ashley's at two guineas a head. .We were 
 in hopes to have had Miss Woolford in the character of Joan 
 of Arc, but that lady did not appear. We had a tent for the 
 challengers, at each side of which hung what they called es~ 
 coachings, (like hatchments, which they put up when people 
 die,) and underneath sat their pages, holding their helmets for 
 the tournament. Tagrag was in brass armor (my City con- 
 nections got him that famous suit) ; his Excellency in polished 
 steel. My wife wore a coronet, modelled exactly after that of 
 Queen Catherine, in " Henry V. ; " a tight gilt jacket, which 
 set off dear Jemmy's figure wonderfully, and a train of at least 
 forty feet. Dear Jemimarann was in white, her hair braided with 
 pearls. Madame de Flicflac appeared as Queen Elizabeth ; 
 and Lady Blanche Bluenose as a Turkish princess. An alder- 
 man of London and his lady ; two magistrates of the county, 
 and the very pink of Croydon ; several Polish noblemen ; two 
 Italian counts (besides our Count) ; one hundred and ten 
 young officers, from Addiscombe College, in full uniform, com- 
 manded by Major-General Sir Miles Mulligatawney, K. C. B., 
 and his lady ; the Misses Pimminy's Finishing Establishment, 
 and fourteen young ladies, all in white : the Reverend Doctor 
 Wapshot, and forty-nine young gentlemen, of the first families, 
 under his charge — were some only of the company. I leave you 
 to fancy that, if my Jemmy did seek for fashion, she had enough 
 of it on this occasion. They wanted me to have mounted again, 
 but my hunting-day had been sufficient : besides, I ain't big 
 enough for a real knight : so, as Mrs. Coxe insisted on my 
 opening the Tournament — and I knew it was in vain to resist 
 * — the Baron and Tagrag had undertaken to arrange so that I 
 might come of! with safety, if I came off at all. They had pro- 
 cured from the Strand Theatre a famous stud of hobby-horses, 
 which they told me had been trained for the use of the great 
 Lord Bateman. I did not know exactly what they were till 
 they arrived ; but as they had belonged to a lord, I thought it 
 was all right, and consented ; and I found it the best sort of 
 riding, after all, to appear to be on horseback and walk safely 
 afoot at the same time ; and it was impossible to come down 
 as long as I kept on my own legs : besides, I could cuff and 
 pull my steed about as much as I liked, without fear of his 
 biting or kicking in return. As Lord of the Tournament, they 
 placed in my hands a lance, ornamented spirally, in blue and 
 gold : I thought of the pole over my old shop door, and almost 
 wished myself there again, as I capered up to the battle in my 
 
A TOURNAMENT. 
 
 389 
 
 helmet and breast-plate, with all the trumpets blowing and 
 drums beating at the time. Captain Tagrag was my opponent, 
 and preciously we poked each other, till, prancing about, I put 
 my foot on my horse's petticoat behind, and down I came, get- 
 ting a thrust from the Captain, at the same time, that almost 
 broke my shoulder-bone. " This was sufficient," they said, 
 " for the laws of chivalry ; " and I was glad to get off so. 
 
 After that the gentlemen riders, of whom there were no less 
 than seven, in complete armor, and the professionals, now ran 
 at the ring ; and the Baron was far, far the most skilful. 
 
 " How sweetly the dear Baron rides," said my wife, who 
 was always ogling at him, smirking, smiling, and waving her 
 handkerchief to him. " I say, Sam," says a professional to one 
 of his friends, as, after their course, they came cantering up, 
 and ranged under Jemmy's bower, as she called it : — " I say, 
 Sam, I'm blowed if that chap in harmer mustn't have been one 
 of hus." And this only made Jemmy the more pleased ; for 
 the fact is, the Baron had chosen the best way of winning 
 Jemimarann by courting her mother. 
 
 The Baron was declared conqueror at the ring ; and Jemmy 
 awarded him the prize, a wreath of white roses, which she 
 placed on his lance ; he receiving it gracefully, and bowing, 
 until the plumes of his helmet mingled with the mane of his 
 charger, which backed to the other end of the lists ; then gal- 
 loping back to the place where Jemimarann was seated, he 
 begged her to place it on his helmet. The poor girl blushed 
 very much, and did so. As all the people were applauding, 
 Tagrag rushed up, and, laying his hand on the Baron's shoul- 
 der, whispered something in his ear, which made the other 
 very angry, I suppose, for he shook him off violently. " Cha- 
 cun pour soi," says he, " Monsieur de Taguerague," — which 
 means, I am told, " Every man for himself." And then he 
 rode away, throwing his lance in the air, catching it, and 
 making his horse caper and prance, to the admiration of all 
 beholders. 
 
 After this came the " Passage of Arms." Tagrag and the 
 Baron ran courses against the other champions ; ay, and un- 
 horsed two apiece ; whereupon the other three refused to turn 
 out; and preciously we laughed at them, to be sure ! 
 
 " Now, it's our turn, Mr. Chicot" says Tagrag, shaking his 
 fist at the Baron : " look to yourself, you infernal mountebank, 
 for, by Jupiter, I'll do my best ! " And before Jemmy and the 
 rest of us, who were quite bewildered, could say a word, these 
 two friends were charging away, spears in hand, ready to kill 
 
COX'S DIARY. 
 
 each other. In vain Jemmy screamed; in vain I threw down 
 my truncheon : they had broken two poles before I could say 
 " Jack Robinson," and were driving at each other with the two 
 new ones. The Baron had the worst of the first course, for he 
 had almost been carried out of his saddle. " Hark you, Chi- 
 cot ! " screamed out Tagrag, " next time look to your head ! " 
 And next time, sure enough, each aimed at the head of the 
 other. 
 
 Tagrag's spear hit the right place ; for it carried off the 
 Baron's helmet, plume, rose-wreath and all ; but his Excellency 
 hit truer still — his lance took Tagrag on the neck, and sent 
 him to the ground like a stone. 
 
 " He's won ! he's won ! " says Jemmy, waving her hand- 
 kerchief ; Jemimarann fainted, Lady Blanche screamed, and I 
 felt so sick that I thought I should drop. All the company 
 were in an uproar : only the Baron looked calm, and bowed 
 very gracefully, and kissed his hand to Jemmy ; when, all of a 
 sudden, a Jewish-looking man springing over the barrier, and 
 followed by three more, rushed towards the Baron. " Keep 
 the gate, Bob ! " he holloas out. " Baron, I arrest you, at the 
 suit of Samuel Levison, for " 
 
 But he never said for what ; shouting out, " Aha ! " and 
 " Saprrrristie /" and I don't know what, his Excellency drew 
 his sword, dug his spurs into his horse, and was over the poor 
 bailiff, and off before another word. He had threatened to run 
 through one of the bailiff's followers, Mr. Stubbs, only that 
 gentleman made way for him ; and when we took up the bailiff, 
 and brought him round by the aid of a little brandy-and-water, 
 he told us all. " I had a writ againsht him, Mishter Coxsh, 
 but I didn't vant to shpoil shport ; and, beshidesh, I didn't 
 
 know him until dey knocked off his shteel cap ! " 
 
 ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Here was a pretty business ! 
 
 OVERBOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED. 
 
 *TE had no great reason to brag of our tournament at Tug- 
 ^icfgeville : but, after all, it was better than the turn-out at 
 ICilblazes, where poor Lord Heydownderry went about in a 
 black velvet dressing-gown, and the Emperor Napoleon Bony- 
 part appeared in a suit of armor and silk stockings, like Mr. 
 
OVERBOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED. 
 
 39 1 
 
 Pell's friend in Pickwick ; we, having employed the gentlemen 
 from Astley's Antitheatre, had some decent sport for our 
 money. 
 
 We never heard a word from the Baron, who had so dis- 
 tinguished himseif by his horsemanship, and had knocked 
 down (and very justly) Mr. Nabb, the bailiff, and Mr. Stubbs, 
 his man, who came to lay hands Upon him. My sweet Jemmy 
 seemed to be very low in spirits after his departure, and a sad 
 thing it is to see her low in spirits : on days of illness she no 
 more minds giving Jemimarann a box on the ear, or sending a 
 plate of muffins across a table at poor me, than she does taking 
 her tea. 
 
 Jemmy, I say, was very low in spirits ; but one day (I re- 
 member it was the day after Captain Higgins called, and said 
 he had seen the Baron at Boulogne), she vowed that nothing 
 but change of air would do her good, and declared that she 
 should die unless she went to the sea-side in France. I knew 
 what this meant, and that I might as well attempt to resist her 
 as to resist her Gracious Majesty in Parliament assembled ; so 
 I told the people to pack up the things, and took four places 
 on board the " Grand Turk " steamer for Boulogne. 
 
 The travelling carriage, which, with Jemmy's thirty-seven 
 boxes and my carpet-bag, was pretty well loaded, was sent on 
 board the night before ; and we, after breakfasting in Portland 
 Place (little did I think it was the — but, poh ! never mind), 
 went down to the Custom House in the other carriage, fol- 
 lowed by a hackney-coach and a cab, with the servants, and 
 fourteen bandboxes and trunks more, which were to be wanted 
 by my dear girl in the journey. 
 
 The road down Cheapside and Thames Street need not be 
 described : we saw the monument, a memento of the wicked 
 Popish massacre of St. Bartholomew ; why erected here I can't 
 think, as St. Bartholomew is in Smithfield ; — we had a glimpse 
 of Billingsgate, and of the Mansion House, where we saw the 
 two-and-twenty-shilling-coal smoke coming out of the chimneys, 
 and were landed at the Custom House in safety. I felt melan- 
 choly, for we were going among a people of swindlers, as all 
 Frenchmen are thought to be • and, besides not being able to 
 speak the language, leaving our own dear country and honest 
 countrymen. 
 
 Fourteen porters came out, and each took a package with 
 the greatest civility ; calling Jemmy her ladyship, and me your 
 honor ; ay, and your honoring and my-ladyshipping even my 
 man and the maid in the cab. I somehow felt all over quite 
 
39 2 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 melancholy at going away. " Here, my fine fellow/' says I to 
 the coachman, who was standing very respectful, holding his 
 hat in one hand and Jemmy's jewel-case in the other — " Here, 
 my fine chap," says I, " here's six shillings for you : " for I did 
 not care for the money. 
 " Six what ? " says he. 
 
 " Six shillings, fellow," shrieks Jemmy, " and twice as much 
 as your fare." 
 
 " Feller, marm ! " says this insolent coachman. " Feller 
 yourself, marm : do you think I'm a going to kill my horses, 
 and break my precious back, and bust my carriage, and carry 
 you, and your kids, and your traps, for six hog ? " And with 
 this the monster dropped his hat, with my money in it, and 
 doubling his fist, put it so very near my nose that I really 
 thought he would have made it bleed. "My fare's heighteen 
 shillings," says he, " hain't it ? — hask hariy of' these gentle- 
 men." 
 
 " Why, it ain't more than seventeen-and-six," says one of 
 the fourteen porters ; " but if the gen'l'man is a gen'l'man, he 
 can't give no less than a suffering anyhow." 
 
 I wanted to resist, and Jemmy screamed like a Turk ; but, 
 "Holloa!" says one. "What's the row?" says another. 
 " Come, dub up ! " roars a third. And I don't mind telling 
 you, in confidence, that I was so frightened that I took out the 
 sovereign and gave it. My man and Jemmy's maid had dis- 
 appeared by this time : they always do when there's a robbery 
 or a row going on. 
 
 I was going after them. " Stop, Mr. Ferguson," pipes a 
 young gentleman of about thirteen, with a red livery waistcoat 
 that reached to his ankles, and every variety of button, pin, 
 string to keep it together. " Stop, Mr. Heff," says he, taking 
 a small pipe out of his mouth, " and don't forgit the cabman." 
 
 " What's your fare, my lad ? " says I. 
 
 " Why, let's see — yes — ho ! — my fare's seven-and-thirty and 
 eightpence eggs — acly." 
 
 The fourteen gentlemen holding the luggage, here burst 
 out and laughed very rudely indeed ; and the only person who 
 seemed disappointed was, I thought, the hackney-coachman. 
 " Why, you rascal ! " says Jemmy, laying hold of the boy, " do 
 you want more than the coachman ? " 
 
 " Don't rascal me, marm ! " shrieks the little chap in return. 
 " What's the coach to me ? Vy, you may go in an omlibus 
 for sixpence if you like ; vy don't you go and buss it, marm ? 
 Vy did you call my cab, marm ? Vy am I to come forty mile, 
 
OVERBOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED. 
 
 from Scarlot Street, Po'tl'nd Street, Po'tl'nd Place, and not gif 
 my fare, marm ? Come, give me a suffering and a half, and 
 don't keep my hoss a-vaitirig all day." This speech, which 
 takes some time to write down, was made in about the fifth 
 part of a second ; and, at the end of it, the young gentleman 
 hurled down his pipe, and, advancing towards Jemmy, doubled 
 his fist, and seemed to challenge her to fight. 
 
 My dearest girl now turned from red to be as pale as white 
 Windsor, and fell into my arms. What was I to do ? I called 
 " Policeman ! " but a policeman won't interfere in Thames 
 Street ; robbery is licensed there. What was I to do ? Oh ! 
 my heart beats with paternal gratitude when I think of what 
 my Tug did ! 
 
 As soon as this young cab-chap put himself into a fighting 
 attitude, Master Tuggeridge Coxe — who had been standing by 
 laughing very rudely, I thought — Master Tuggeridge Coxe, I 
 say, flung his jacket suddenly into his mamma's face (the brass 
 buttons made her start and recovered her a little), and, before 
 we could say a word, was in the ring in which we stood, (formed 
 by the porters, nine orangemen and women, I don't know how 
 many newspaper-boys, hotel-cads, and old-clothesmen,) and, 
 whirling about two little white fists in the face of the gentle- 
 man in the red waistcoat, who brought up a great pair of black 
 ones to bear on the enemy, was engaged in an instant. 
 
 But la bless you ! Tug hadn't been at Richmond School 
 for nothing ; and milled away — one, two, right and left — like a 
 little hero as he is, with all his dear mother's spirit in him. 
 First came a crack which sent a long dusky white hat — that 
 looked damp and deep like a well, and had a long black crape- 
 rag twisted round it — first came a crack which sent this white 
 hat spinning over the gentleman's cab, and scattered among 
 the crowd a vast number of things which the cabman kept in 
 it, — such as a ball of string, a piece of candle, a comb, a whip- 
 lash, a little warbler, a slice of bacon, &c, &c. 
 
 The cabman seemed sadly ashamed of this display, but 
 Tug gave him no time : another blow was planted on his cheek- 
 bone ; and a third, which hit him straight on the nose sent 
 this rude cabman straight down to the ground. 
 
 " Brayvo, my lord ! " shouted all the people around. 
 
 " I won't have no more, thank yer," said the little cabman, 
 gathering himself up. " Give us over my fare, vil yer, and let 
 me git away ? " 
 
 "What's your fare now, you cowardly little thief?" says 
 Tug. 
 
394 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 " Vy, then, two-and-eightpence," says he. " Go along,— 
 you know it is ! " And two-and-eightpence he had ; and. every- 
 body applauded Tug, and hissed the cab-boy, and asked Tug 
 for something to drink. We heard the packet-bell ringing, and 
 all run down the stairs to be in time. 
 
 I now thought our troubles would soon be over ; mine were, 
 very nearly so, in one sense at least : for after Mrs. Coxe and 
 Jemimarann, and Tug, and the maid, and valet, and valuables 
 had been handed across, it came to my turn. I had often heard 
 of people being taken up by a Plank, but seldom of their being 
 set down by one. Just as I was going over, the vessel rode off 
 a little, the board slipped, and down I soused in the water. 
 You might have heard Mrs. Coxe's shriek as far as Gravesend ; 
 it rung in my ears as I went down, all grieved at the thought of 
 leaving her a disconsolate widder. Well, up I came again, and 
 caught the brim of my beaver-hat — though I have heard that 
 drowning men catch at straws : — I floated, and hoped to escape 
 by hook or by crook : and luckily, just then, I felt myself sud- 
 denly jerked by the waistband of my whites, and found myself 
 hauled up in the air at the end of a boat-hook, to the sound of 
 " Yeho ! yeho ! yehoi ! yehoi ! " and so I was dragged aboard. 
 I was put to bed, and had swallowed so much water that it took 
 a very considerable quantity of brandy to bring it to a proper 
 mixture in my inside. In fact, for some hours I was in a very 
 deplorable state. 
 
 NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 Well, we arrived at Boulogne ; and Jemmy, after making 
 inquiries, right and left, about the Baron, found that no person 
 was known there ; and being bent, I suppose, at all events, on 
 marrying her daughter to a lord, she determined to set off for 
 Paris, where, as he had often said, he possessed a magnificent 
 
 ■ hotel he called it; — and I remembered Jemmy being 
 
 mightily indignant at the idea : but hotel, we found afterwards, 
 means only a house in French, and this reconciled her. Need 
 I describe the road from Boulogne to Paris ? or need I describe 
 that Capitol itself ? Suffice it to say, that we made our appear- 
 ance there, at " Murisse's Hotel/' as became the family of Coxe 
 Tuggeridge ; and saw everything worth seeing in the metrop- 
 
NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 395 
 
 olis in a week. It nearly killed me, to be sure j but, when 
 you're on a pleasure-party in a foreign country, you must not 
 mind a little inconvenience of this sort. 
 
 Well, there is, near the city of Paris, a splendid road and 
 row of trees, which — I don't know why — is called the Shande- 
 leezy, or Elysian Fields, in French : others, I have heard, call 
 it the Shandeleery ; but mine I know to be the correct pronun- 
 ciation. In the middle of this Shandeleezy is an open space of 
 ground, and a tent where, during the summer, Mr. Franconi, 
 the French Ashley, performs with his horses and things. As 
 everybody went there, and we were told it was quite the thing, 
 Jemmy agreed that we should go, too ; and go we did. 
 
 It's just like Ashley's : there's a man just like Mr. Piddi- 
 combe, who goes round the ring in a huzzah-dress, cracking a 
 whip ; there are a dozen Miss Woolfords, who appear like Polish 
 princesses, Dihannas, Sultannas, Cachuchas, and heaven knows 
 what ! There's the fat man, who comes in with the twenty- 
 three dresses on, and turns out to be the living skeleton ! 
 There's the clowns, the sawdust, the white horse that dances a 
 hornpipe, the candles stuck in hoops, just as in our own dear 
 country. 
 
 My dear wife, in her very finest clothes, with all the world 
 looking at her, was really enjoying this spectacle (which doesn't 
 require any knowledge of the language, seeing that the dumb 
 animals don't talk it), when there came in, presently, "the great 
 Polish act of the Sarmatian horse-tamer, on eight steeds," 
 which we were all of us longing to see. The horse-tamer, to 
 music twenty miles an hour, rushed in on four of his horses, 
 leading the other four, and skurried round the ring. You 
 couldn't see him for the sawdust, but everybody was delighted, 
 and applauded like mad. Presently, you saw there were only 
 three horses in front : he had slipped one more between his 
 legs, another followed, and it was clear that the consequences 
 would be fatal, if he admitted any more. The people applauded 
 more than ever ; and when, at last, seven and eight were made 
 to go in, not wholly, but sliding dexterously in and out, with the 
 others, so that you did not know which was which, the house, 
 I thought, would come down with applause ; and the Sarma- 
 tian horse-tamer bowed his great feathers to the ground. At 
 last the music grew slower, and he cantered leisurely round the 
 ring ; bending, smirking, seesawing, waving his whip, and lay- 
 ing his hand on his heart, just as we have seen the Ashley's 
 people do. But fancy our astonishment when, suddenly, this 
 Sarmatian horse-tamer, coming round with his four pair at a 
 
396 COX'S DIARY, 
 
 canter, and being opposite our box, gave a start, and a — hupp ! 
 which made all his horses stop stock-still at an instant ! 
 
 " Albert ! screamed my dear Jemmy : " Albert ! Bahbah- 
 bah — baron ! " The Sarmatian looked at her for a minute ; 
 and turning head over heels, three times, bolted suddenly off 
 his horses, and away out of our sight. 
 
 It was His Excellency the Baron de Punter ! 
 
 Jemmy went off in a fit as usual, and we never saw the 
 Baron again ; but we heard, afterwards, that Punter was an 
 apprentice of Franconi's, and had run away to England, think- 
 ing to better himself, and had joined Mr. Richardson's army ; 
 but Mr. Richardson, and then London, did not agree with him ; 
 and we saw the last of him as he sprung over the barriers at 
 the Tuggeridgeville tournament. 
 
 " Well, Jemimarann," says Jemmy, in a fury, " you shall 
 marry Tagrag ; and if I can't have a baroness for a daughter, at 
 least you shall be a baronet's lady." Poor Jemimarann only 
 sighed : she knew it was of no use to remonstrate. 
 
 Paris grew dull to us after this, and we were more eager 
 than ever to go back to London : for what should we hear, but 
 that that monster, Tuggeridge, of the City — old Tug's black son, 
 forsooth ! — was going to contest Jemmy's claim to the property, 
 and had filed I don't know how many bills against us in Chan- 
 cery ! Hearing this, we set off immediately, and we arrived at 
 Boulogne, and set off in that very same " Grand Turk " which 
 had brought us to France. 
 
 If you look in the bills, you will see that the steamers leave 
 London on Saturday morning, and Boulogne on Saturday night ; 
 so that there is often not an hour between the time of arrival 
 and departure. Bless us ! bless us ! I pity the poor Captain 
 that, for twenty-four hours at a time, is on a paddle-box, roar- 
 ing out, " Ease her ! Stop her ! " and the poor servants, who 
 are laying out breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea, supper ; — breakfast, 
 lunch, dinner, tea, supper again ; — for layers upon layers of 
 travellers, as it were ; and, most of all, I pity that unhappy 
 steward with those unfortunate tin-basins that he must always 
 keep an eye over. Little did we know what a storm was 
 brooding in our absence ; and little were we prepared for the 
 awful, awful fate that hung over our Tuggeridgeville property. 
 
 Biggs, of the great house of Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick, 
 was our man of business : when I arrived in London I heard 
 that he had just set off to Paris after me. So we started down 
 to Tuggeridgeville instead of going to Portland Place. As we 
 came through the lodge-gates, we found a crowd assembled 
 
NOTICE TO QUIT. 
 
 397 
 
 within them ; and there was that horrid Tuggeridge On horse- 
 back, with a shabby-looking man, called Mr. Scapgoat, and his 
 man of business, and many more. " Mr. Scapgoat/' says 
 Tuggeridge, grinning, and handing him over a sealed paper, 
 " here's the lease ; I leave you in possession, and wish you 
 good-morning." 
 
 " In possession of what ? " says the rightful lady of Tug- 
 geridgeville, leaning out of the carriage-window. She hated 
 black Tuggeridge, as she called him, like poison : the very 
 first week of our coming to Portland Place, when he called to 
 ask restitution of some plate which he said was his private 
 property, she called him a base-born blackamoor, and told him 
 to quit the house. Since then there had been law-squabbles 
 between us without end, and all sorts of writings, meetings, 
 and arbitrations. 
 
 " Possession of my estate of Tuggeridgeville, madam," 
 roars he, " left me by my father's will, which you have had 
 notice of these three weeks, and know as well as I do." 
 
 "Old Tug left no will," shrieked Jemmy; "he didn't die 
 to leave his estates to blackamoors — to negroes — to base-born 
 mulatto story-tellers ; if he did, may I be " 
 
 "Oh, hush! dearest mamma," says Jemimarann. " Go it 
 again, mother ! " says Tug, who is always sniggering. 
 
 " What is this business, Mr. Tuggeridge ? " cried Tagrag 
 (who was the only one of our party that had his senses). 
 "What is this will?" 
 
 " Oh, it's merely a matter of form," said the lawyer, riding 
 up. " For heaven's sake, madam, be peaceable ; let my friends, 
 Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick, arrange with me. I am sur- 
 prised that none of their people are here. All that you have 
 to do is to eject us ; and the rest will follow, of course." 
 
 "Who has taken possession of this here property ? " roars 
 Jemmy, again. 
 
 " My friend Mr. Scapgoat," said the lawyer. — Mr. Scap- 
 goat grinned. 
 
 "Mr. Scapgoat," said my wife, shaking her fist at him (for 
 she is a woman of no small spirit), " if you don't leave this 
 ground, I'll have you pushed out with pitchforks, I will — you 
 and your beggarly blackamoor yonder." And, suiting the ac- 
 tion to the word, she clapped a stable fork into the hands of 
 one of the gardeners, and called another, armed with a rake, 
 to his help, while young Tug set the dog at their heels, and I 
 hurrahed for joy to see such villany so properly treated. 
 
 " That's sufficient, ain't it ? " said Mr. Scapgoat, with the 
 
 26 
 
39* 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 calmest air in the world. " Oh, completely," said the lawyer. 
 " Mr. Tuggeridge, we've ten miles to dinner. Madam, your 
 very humble servant." And the whole posse of them rode 
 away. 
 
 LAW LIFE ASSURANCE. 
 
 We knew not what this meant, until we received a strange 
 document from Higgs, in London — which begun, " Middlesex, 
 to wit. Samuel Cox, late of Portland Place, in the city of 
 Westminster, in the said county, was attached to answer Sam- 
 uel Scapgoat, of a plea, wherefore, with force and arms, he 
 entered into one messuage, with the appurtenances, which John 
 Tuggeridge, Esq., demised to the said Samuel Scapgoat, for a 
 term which is not yet expired, and ejected him." And it went 
 on to say that " we, with force of arms, viz. : with swords, knives, 
 and staves, had ejected him." Was there ever such a mon- 
 strous falsehood ? when we did but stand in defence of our 
 own ; and isn't it a sin that we should have been turned out of 
 our rightful possessions upon such a rascally plea ? 
 
 Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick had evidently been bribed ; 
 for — would you believe it ? — they told us to give up possession 
 at once, as a will was found, and we could not defend the 
 action. My Jemmy refused their proposal with scorn, and 
 laughed at the notion of the will : she pronounced it to be a 
 forgery, a vile blackamoor forgery; and believes, to this clay, 
 that the story of its having been made thirty years ago, in Cal- 
 cutta, and left there with old Tug's papers, and found there, 
 and brought to England, after a search made, by order of Tug- 
 geridge junior, is a scandalous falsehood. 
 
 Well, the cause was tried. Why need I say anything con- 
 cerning it ? What shall I say of the Lord Chief justice, but 
 that he ought to be ashamed of the wig he sits in ? What of 
 
 Mr. and Mr. , who exerted their eloquence against 
 
 justice and the poor ? On mir side, too, was no less a man 
 than Mr. Serjeant Binks, who, ashamed I am, for the honor of 
 the British bar, to say it, seemed to have been bribed too : for 
 he actually threw up his case ! Had he behaved like Mr. Mul- 
 ligan, his junior — and to whom, in this humble way, I offer my 
 thanks — all might have been well. I never knew such an effect 
 produced, as when Mr. Mulligan, appearing for the first time 
 in that court, said, " Standing here, upon the pidestal of secred 
 
LA W LIFE INSURANCE. 
 
 399 
 
 Thamis ; seeing around me the arnymints of a profission I ris- 
 pict; having before me a vinnerable judge, and an elightened 
 jury — the counthry's glory, the netion's cheap defender, the 
 poor man's priceless palladium ; how must I thrimble, my lard, 
 how must the blush bejew my cheek — " (somebody cried out, 
 " O cheeks /" In the court there was a dreadful roar of laugh- 
 ing; and when order was established, Mr. Mulligan continued:) 
 — " My lard, I heed them not ; I come from a counthry accus- 
 tomed to opprission, and as that counthry — yes, my lard, that 
 Ireland — (do not laugh, I am proud of it) — is ever, in spite of 
 of her tyrants, green, and lovely, and beautiful : my client's 
 cause, likewise, will rise shuperior to the malignant imbecility 
 — I repeat, the malignant imbecility — of those who would 
 thrample it down ; and in whose teeth, in my client's name, in 
 my counthry's — ay, and my own — I, with folded arrums, hurl a 
 scarnful and eternal defiance ! " 
 
 "For heaven's sake, Mr. Milligan " — (Mulligan, me lard," 
 cried my defender) — " Well, Mulligan, then, be calm, and keep 
 to your brief." 
 
 Mr. Mulligan did ; and for three hours and a quarter, in a 
 speech crammed with Latin quotations, and unsurpassed for 
 eloquence, he explained the situation of me and my family ; the 
 romantic manner in which Tuggeridge the elder gained his for- 
 tune, and by which it afterwards came to my wife ; the state 
 of Ireland ; the original and virtuous poverty of the Coxes — 
 from which he glanced passionately, for a few minutes (until 
 the judge stopped him), to the poverty of his own country ; 
 my excellence as a husband, father, landlord ; my wife's, «as 
 a wife, mother, landlady. All was in vain — the trial went 
 against us. I was soon taken in execution for the damages ; 
 five hundred pounds of law expenses of my own, and as much 
 more of Tuggeridge's. He would not pay a farthing, he said, 
 to get me out of a much worse place than the Fleet. I need 
 not tell you that along with the land went the house in town, 
 and the money in the funds. Tuggeridge, he who had thou- 
 sands before, had it all. And when I was in prison, who do you 
 think would come and see me ? None of the Barons, nor 
 Counts, nor Foreign Ambassadors, nor Excellencies, who used 
 to fill our house, and eat and drink at our expense, — not even 
 the ungrateful Tagrag ! 
 
 I could not help now saying to my dear wife, " See, my love, 
 we have been gentlefolk's for exactly a year, and a pretty life 
 we have had of it. In the first place, my darling, we gave 
 grand dinners, and everybody laughed at us." 
 
4°° 
 
 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 " Yes, and recollect how ill they made you," cries my 
 daughter. 
 
 " We asked great company, and they insulted us." 
 " And spoilt mamma's temper/' said Jemimarann. 
 " Hush ! Miss," said her mother • " we don't want your 
 advice." 
 
 "Then you must make a country gentleman of me." 
 " And send Pa into dunghills," roared Tug. 
 " Then you must go to operas, and pick up foreign Barons 
 and Counts." 
 
 " Oh, thank heaven, dearest papa, that we are rid of them," 
 cries my little Jemimarann, looking almost happy, and kissing 
 her old pappy. 
 
 " And you must make a fine gentleman of Tug there, and 
 * send him to a fine school. ' 
 
 "And I give you my word," says Tug, " I'm as ignorant a 
 chap as ever lived." 
 
 " You're an insolent saucebox," says Jemmy • " you've 
 learned that at your fine school." 
 
 " I've learned something else, too, ma'am ; ask the boys if 
 I haven't," grumbles Tug. 
 
 "You hawk your daughter about, and just escape marrying 
 her to a swindler." 
 
 "And drive off poor Orlando," whimpered my girl. 
 
 " Silence ! Miss," says Jemmy, fiercely. 
 
 " You insult the man whose father's property you inherited, 
 and bring me into this prison, without hope of leaving it : for 
 he never can help us after all your bad language." I said all 
 this very smartly ; for the fact is, my blood was up at the time, 
 and I determined to rate my dear girl soundly. 
 
 % Oh t Sammy," said she, sobbing (for the poor thing's spirit 
 was quite broken), " it's all true ; I've been very, very foolish 
 and vain, and I've punished my dear husband and children by 
 my follies, and I do so, so repent them ! " Here Jemimarann 
 at once burst out crying, and flung herself into her mamma's 
 arms, and the pair roared and sobbed for ten minutes together. 
 Even Tug looked queer : and as for me, it's a most extraordi- 
 nary thing, but I'm blest if seeing them so miserable didn't 
 make me quite happy. — I don't think, for the whole twelve 
 months of our good fortune, I had ever felt so gay as in that 
 dismal room in the Fleet, where I was locked up. 
 
 Poor Orlando Crump came to see us every day ; and we, 
 who had never taken the slightest notice of him in Portland 
 Place, and treated him so cruelly that day at Beulah Spa, were 
 
MR. ALTAMONT'S EVENING PARTY. — MR. YELLOWPLUSH BRINGS 
 REFRESHMENTS TO THE LADIES. 
 
FAMILY BUSTLE. 
 
 401 
 
 only too glad of his company now. He used to bring books 
 for my little girl, and a bottle of sherry for me : and he used 
 to take home Jemmy's fronts and dress them for her ; and when 
 locking-up time came, he used to see the ladies home to their 
 little three-pair bedroom in Holborn, where they slept now, 
 Tug and all. " Can the bird forget its nest ? " Orlando used 
 to say (he was a romantic young fellow, that's the truth, and 
 blew the flute and read Lord Byron incessantly, since he was 
 separated from Jemimarann). " Can the bird, let loose in east- 
 ern climes, forget its home ? Can the rose cease to remember 
 its beloved bulbul ? — Ah, no ! Mr. Cox, you made me what I 
 am, and what I hope to die — a hairdresser. I never see a curl- 
 ing-irons before I entered your shop, or knew Naples from brown 
 Windsor. Did you not make over your house, your furniture, 
 your emporium of perfumery, and nine-and-twenty shaving 
 customers, to me ? Are these trifles ? Is Jemimarann a trifle ? 
 if she would allow me to call her so. Oh, Jemimarann, your Pa 
 found me in the workhouse, and made me what I am. Con- 
 duct me to my grave, and I never, never shall be different ! " 
 When he had said this, Orlando was so much affected, that he 
 rushed suddenly on his hat and quitted the room. 
 
 Then Jemimarann began to cry too. " Oh, Pa ! " said she, 
 " isn't he — isn't he a nice young man ? " 
 
 " I'm hanged if he ain't," says Tug. " What do you think 
 of his giving me eighteenpence yesterday, and a bottle of 
 lavender-water for Mimarann ? " 
 
 " He might as well offer to give you back the shop at any 
 rate," says Jemmy. 
 
 " What ! to pay Tuggeridge's damages ? My dear, I'd 
 sooner die than give Tuggeridge the chance." 
 
 FAMILY BUSTLE. 
 
 Tuggeridge vowed that I should finish my days there, when 
 he put me in prison. It appears that we both had reason to be 
 ashamed of ourselves ; and were, thank God ! I learned to 
 be sorry for my bad feelings towards him, and he actually 
 wrote to me to say — 
 
 " Sir, — I think you have suffered enough for faults which, 
 
4 o2 COX'S DIARY. 
 
 I believe, do not lie with you, so much as your wife ; and I have 
 withdrawn my claims which I had against you while you were 
 in wrongful possession of my father's estates. You must re- 
 member that when, on examination of my father's papers, no 
 will was found, I yielded up his property, with perfect willing- 
 ness, to those who I fancied were his legitimate heirs. For this 
 I received all sorts of insults from your wife and yourself (who 
 acquiesced in them) ; and when the discovery of a will, in India, 
 proved my just claims, you must remember how they were met, 
 and the vexatious proceedings with which you sought to oppose 
 them. 
 
 " I have discharged your lawyer's bill; and, as I believe you 
 are more fitted for the trade you formerly exercised than for 
 any other, I will give five hundred pounds for the purchase of 
 a stock and shop, when you shall find one to suit you. 
 
 " I enclose a draft for twenty pounds, to meet your present 
 expenses. You have, I am told, a son, a boy of some spirit : 
 if he likes to try his fortune abroad, and go on board an India- 
 man, I can get him an appointment ; and am, Sir, your obedient 
 servant, 
 
 "John Tuggeridge." 
 
 It was Mrs. Breadbasket, the housekeeper, who brought 
 this letter, and looked mighty contemptuous as she gave it. 
 
 " I hope, Breadbasket, that your master will send me my 
 things at* any rate," cries Jemmy. There's seventeen silk and 
 satin dresses, and a whole heap of trinkets, that can be of no 
 earthly use to him." 
 
 " Don't Breadbasket me, mem, if you please, mem. My 
 master says that them things is quite obnoxious to your sphere 
 of life. Breadbasket, indeed ! " And so she sailed out. 
 
 Jemmy hadn't a word ; she had grown mighty quiet since 
 we had been in misfortune : but my daughter looked as happy 
 as a queen ; and Tug, when he heard of the ship, gave a jump 
 that nearly knocked down poor Orlando. "Ah, I suppose 
 you'll forget me now?" says he, with a sigh; and seemed the 
 only unhappy person in the company. 
 
 " Why, you conceive, Mr. Crump," says my wife, with a 
 great deal of dignity, " that connected as we are, a young man 
 born in a work " 
 
 " Woman ! " cried I (for once in my life determined to have 
 my own way), " hold your foolish tongue. Your absurd pride 
 has been the ruin of us hitherto ; and, from this day, I'll have 
 no more of it. Hark ye, Orlando, if you will take Jemimarann, 
 
FAMILY BUSTLE. 
 
 403 
 
 you may have her ; and if you'll take five hundred pounds for 
 a half share of the shop, they're yours; and thafs for you, 
 Mrs. Cox." 
 
 And here we are, back again. And I write this from the 
 old back shop, where we are all waiting to see the new year in. 
 Orlando sits yonder, plaiting a wig for my Lord Chief Justice, 
 as happy as may be ; and Jemimarann and her mother have 
 been as busy as you can imagine all day long, and are just now 
 giving the finishing touches to the bridal-dresses : for the wed- 
 ding is to take place the day after to-morrow. I've cut seven- 
 teen heads off (as I say) this very day ; and as for Jemmy, I 
 no more mind her than I do the Emperor of China and all his 
 Tambarins. Last night we had a merry meeting of our friends 
 and neighbors, to celebrate our reappearance among them ; and 
 very merry we all were. We had a capital fiddler, and we kept 
 it up till a pretty tidy hour this morning. We begun with quad- 
 rilles, but I never could do 'em well ; and after that, to please 
 Mr. Crump and his intended, we tried a gallopard, which I 
 found anything but easy • for since I am come back to a life of 
 peace and comfort, it's astonishing how stout I'm getting. So 
 we turned at once to what Jemmy and me excels in — a country 
 dance ; which is rather surprising, as we was both brought up 
 to a town life. As for young Tug, he showed off in a sailor's 
 hornpipe : which Mrs. Cox says is very proper for him to learn, 
 now he is intended for the sea. But stop ! here comes in the 
 punchbowl ; and if we are not happy, who is ? I say I am 
 like the Swiss people, for I can't flourish out of my nativfe hair. 
 
I 
 
 THE MEMOIRS OF 
 
 MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
THE MEMOIRS 
 
 OF 
 
 MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH, 
 
 SOMETIME FOOTMAN IN MANY GENTEEL FAMILIES. 
 
 MJSS SHUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 Chapter L 
 
 I was born in the year one, of the present or Christian hera, 
 and am, in consquints, seven-and-thirty years old. My mamma 
 called me Charles James Harrington Fitzroy Yellowplush, in 
 compliment to several noble families, and to a sellybrated 
 coachmin whom she knew, who wore a yellow livry, and drove 
 the Lord Mayor of London. 
 
 Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diffiklty, or rayther 
 the name of a part of his dress ; however, it's stuck to me 
 through life, in which I was, as it were, a footman by buth. 
 
 Praps he was my father — though on this subjict I can't 
 speak suttinly, for my ma wrapped up my buth in a mistry. I 
 may be illygitniit, I may have been changed at nuss ; but I've 
 always had genlmnly tastes through life, and have no doubt 
 that I come of a genlmnly origum. 
 
 The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old 
 creatur was very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other 
 goodness in her. Why, I can't say ; but I always passed as 
 her nevyou. We led a strange life • sometimes ma was dressed 
 in sattn and rooge, and sometimes in rags and dutt \ sometimes 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 I got kisses, and sometimes kix ; sometimes gin, and some- 
 times shampang ; law bless us ! how she used to swear at me, 
 and cuddle me ; there we were, quarrelling and making up, 
 sober and tipsy, starving and guttling by turns, just as ma got 
 money or spent it. But let me draw a vail over the seen, and 
 speak of her no more — its 'sfishant for the public to know that 
 her name was Miss Montmorency, and we lived in the New Cut. 
 
 My poor mother died one morning, Hev'n bless her ! and I 
 was left alone in this wide wicked wuld, without so much money 
 as would buy me a penny roal for my brexfast. But there was 
 some amongst our naybors (and let me tell you there's more 
 kindness among them poor disrepettable creaturs than in half- 
 a-dozen lords or barrynets) who took pity upon poor Sal's 
 orfin (for they bust out laffin when I called her Miss Mont- 
 morency), and gev me bred and shelter. I'm afraid, in spite 
 of their kindness, that my morrils wouldn't have improved if I'd 
 stayed long among 'em. But a benny-violent genlmn saw me, 
 and put me to school. The academy which I went to was 
 called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the Less — the 
 young genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather whatsis- 
 names, a tin plate on the left arm, and a cap about the size of 
 a muffing. I stayed there sicks years ; from sicks, that is to 
 say, till my twelth year, during three years of witch I distin- 
 guished myself not a little in the musicle way, for I bloo the 
 bellus of the church horgin, and very fine tunes we played too. 
 
 Well, it's not worth recounting my jewvenile follies (what 
 trix we used to play the apple-woman ! and how we put snuff in 
 the old clark's Prayer-book — my eye !) ; but one day, a genlmn 
 entered the schoolroom — it was on the very day when I went to 
 subtraxion — and asked the master for a young lad for a servant. 
 They pitched upon me glad enough \ and next day found me 
 sleeping in the sculry, close under the sink, at Mr. Bago's 
 country-house at Pentonwille. 
 
 Bago kep a shop in Smithfleld market, and drov a taring 
 good trade in the hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, 
 that he cleared no less than fifty pounds every year by letting 
 his front room at hanging time. His winders looked right opsit 
 Newgit, and many and many dozen chaps has he seen hanging 
 there. Laws was laws in the year ten, and they screwed chaps' 
 nex for nex ( to nothink. But my bisniss was at his country- 
 house, where I made my first ontray into fashnabl life. I was 
 knife, erririt, and stable-boy then, and an't ashamed to own it ; 
 for my merrits have raised me to what I am — two livries, forty 
 pound a year, malt-licker, washin, silk-stocking, and wax candles 
 
MISS S RUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 409 
 
 — not countin wails, which is somethink pretty considerable at 
 our house, I can tell you. 
 
 I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which 
 got me a very different situation. A handsome young genlmn, 
 who kep a tilbry and a ridin hoss at livry, wanted a tiger. I 
 bid at once for the place ; and, being a neat tidy-looking lad, 
 he took me. Bago gave me a character, and he my first livry ; 
 proud enough I was of it, as you may fancy. 
 
 My new master had some business in the City, for he went 
 in every morning at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Citty Road, 
 and had it waiting for him at six ; when, if it was summer, he 
 spanked round into the Park, and drove one of the neatest 
 turnouts there. Wery proud I was in a gold-laced hat, a drab 
 coat and a red weskit, to sit by his side, when he drove. I 
 already began to ogle the gals in the carridges, and to feel that 
 longing for fashionabl life which I've had ever since. When 
 he was at the oppera, or the play, down I went to skittles, or 
 to White Condick Gardens ; and Mr. Frederic Altamont's 
 young man was somebody, I warrant : to be sure there is very 
 few man-servants at Pentonwille, the poppylation being mostly 
 gals of all work ; and so, though only fourteen, I was as much 
 a man down there, as if I had been as old as Jerusalem. 
 
 But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was 
 such a gay chap, should live in such a hole. He had only a 
 ground floor on John Street — a parlor and a bedroom. I slep 
 over the way, and only came in with his boots and brexfast of 
 a morning. 
 
 The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Shum. 
 They were a poor but prolinic couple, who had rented the place 
 for many years ; and they and their family were squeezed in it 
 pretty tight, I can tell you. 
 
 Shum said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had 
 been a sub-deputy assistant vice-commissary, or some such 
 think ; and, as I heerd afterwards, had been obliged to leave 
 on account of his nervousness. He was such a coward, the fact 
 is, that he was considered dangerous to the harmy, and sent 
 home. 
 
 He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss 
 Slamcoe. She was a Bristol gal ; and her father being a bank- 
 rup in the tallow-chandlering way, left, in course, a pretty little 
 sum of money. A thousand pounds was settled on her • and 
 she was as high and mighty as if it had been a millium. 
 
 Buckmaster died, leaving nothink ; nothink except four ugly 
 daughters by Miss Slamcoe : and her forty pound a year was 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 rayther a narrow income for one of her appytite and preten- 
 sions. In an unlucky hour for Shum she met him. He was a 
 widower with a little daughter of three years old, a little house 
 at Pentonwille, and a little income about as big as her own. I 
 believe she bullyd the poor creature into marriage ; and it 
 was agreed that he should let his ground floor at John Street, 
 and so add somethink to their means. 
 
 They married ; and the widow Buckmaster was the gray 
 mare, I can tell you. She was always talking and blustering 
 about her famly, the celebrity of the Buckmasters, and the 
 antickety of the Slamcoes. They had a six-roomed house (not 
 counting kitching and sculry), and now twelve daughters in all ; 
 whizz. — 4 Miss Buckmasters : Miss Betsy, Miss Dosy, Miss 
 Biddy, and Miss Winny : i Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shum's 
 daughter, and seven others, who shall be nameless. Mrs. 
 Shum was a fat, red-haired woman, at least a foot taller than 
 S. ; who was but a yard and a half high, pale-faced, red-nosed, 
 knock-kneed, bald-headed, his nose and shirt-frill all brown 
 with snuff. 
 
 Before the house was a little garden, where the washin of 
 the famly was all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em 
 that it was obliged to be done by relays. There was six rails 
 and a stocking on each, and four small goosbry bushes, always 
 covered with some bit of linning or other. The hall was a 
 regular puddle : wet dabs of dishclouts flapped in your face ; 
 soapy smoking bits of flanning went nigh to choke you ; and 
 while you were looking up to prevent hanging yourself with the 
 ropes which were strung across and about, slap came the hedge 
 of a pail against your shins, till one was like to be drove mad 
 with hagony. The great slattnly doddling girls was always on 
 the stairs, poking about with nasty flower-pots, a-cooking some- 
 thing, or sprawling in the window-seats with greasy curl-papers, 
 reading greasy novls. An infernal pianna was jingling from 
 morning till night — two eldest Miss Buckmasters, " Battle of 
 Prag" — six youngest Miss Shums, " In my Cottage," till I knew 
 every note in the " Battle of Prag," and cussed the day when 
 " In my Cottage " was rote. The younger girls, too, were 
 always bouncing and thumping about the house, with torn 
 pinnyfores, and dogs-eard grammars, and large pieces of bread 
 and treacle. I never see such a house. 
 
 As for Mrs. Shum, she was such a fine lady, that she did 
 nothink but lay on the drawing-room sophy, read novels, drink, 
 scold, scream, and go into hystarrix. Little Shum kep reading 
 an old newspaper from weeks' end to weeks' end, when he was 
 
MISS S HUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 4X1 
 
 not engaged in teaching the children, or goin for the beer, 
 or cleanin the shoes : for they kep no servant. This house in 
 John Street was in short a regular Pandymony. 
 
 What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwell 
 in such a place ? The reason is hobvius : he adoared the fust 
 Miss Shum. 
 
 And suttnly he did not show a bad taste ; for though the 
 other daughters were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum 
 was a pretty little pink, modest creatur, with glossy black hair 
 and tender blue eyes, and a neck as white as plaster of Parish. 
 She wore a dismal old black gownd, which had grown too short 
 for her, and too tight ; but it only served to show her pretty 
 angles and feet, and bewchus figger. Master, though he had 
 looked rather low for the gal of his art, had certainly looked in 
 the right place. Never was one more pretty or more hamiable. 
 I gav her always the buttered toast left from our brexfast, and 
 a cup of tea or chocklate, as Altamont might fancy : and the 
 poor thing was glad enough of it, I can vouch ; for they had 
 precious short commons up stairs, and she the least of all. 
 
 For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to 
 snub the poor thing most. There was the four Buckmaster 
 girls' always at her. It was, Mary, git the coal-skittle ; Mary, 
 run down to the public-house for the beer ; Mary, I intend to 
 wear your clean stockens out walking, or your new r bonnet to 
 church. Only her poor father was kind to her ; and he, poor 
 old muff ! his kindness was of no use. Marv bore all the 
 scolding like a hangel, as she was : no, not if she had a pair of 
 wings and a goold trumpet, could she have been a greater 
 hangel. 
 
 I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when 
 Master was in the City ; and so, having nothink earthly to do, 
 I happened to be listening on the stairs. The old scolding was 
 a-going on, and the old tune of that hojus " Battle of Prag." 
 Old Shum made some remark ; and Miss Buckmaster cried out, 
 " Law, pa ! what a fool you are ! " All the gals began lafrin, and 
 so did Mrs. Shum ; all, that is, excep Mary, who turned as red 
 as flams, and going up to Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two 
 such wax on her great red ears as made them tingle again. 
 
 Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal 
 tiger. Her great arms vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she 
 cuffed and thumped poor Mary for taking her pa's part. Mary 
 Shum, who was always a-crying before, didn't shed a tear now. 
 •II will do it again," she said, "if Betsy insults my father.'' 
 New thumps, new shreex ; and the old horridan went on beatin 
 
4 T2 THE MEMOIRS OE MR. C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 the poor girl till she was quite exosted, and fell down on the 
 sophy, puffin like a poppus.. 
 
 " For shame, Mary," began old Shum ; " for shame, you 
 naughty gal, you ! for hurting the feelings of your dear mamma, 
 and beating your kind sister." 
 
 " Why, it was because she called you a " 
 
 " If she did, you pert miss," said Shum, looking mighty 
 dignitified, " I could correct her, and not you." 
 
 " You correct me, indeed ! " said Miss Betsy, turning up her 
 nose, if possible, higher than before ; " I should like to see you 
 erect me ! Imperence ! " and they all began laffin again. 
 
 By this time Mrs. S. had recovered from the effex of her 
 exsize, and she began to pour in her wolly. Fust she called 
 Mary names, then Shum. 
 
 " Oh, why," screeched she, " why did I ever leave a genteel 
 famly, where I ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a 
 creatur like this? He is unfit to be called a man, he is 
 unworthy to marry a gentlewoman ; and as for that hussy, 
 I disown her. Thank heaven she an't a Slamcoe ; she is only 
 fit to be a Shum !" 
 
 " That's true, mamma," said all the gals ; for their mother 
 had taught them this pretty piece of manners, and they despised 
 their father heartily : indeed, I have always remarked that, in 
 famlies where the wife is internally talking about the merits of 
 her branch, the husband is invariably a spooney. 
 
 Well, when she was exosted again, down she fell on the . 
 sofy, at her old trix — more screeching — more convulshuns : and 
 she wouldn't stop, this time, till Shum had got her half a pint 
 of her old remedy, from the " Blue Lion " over the way. She 
 grew more easy as she finished the gin ; but Mary was sent out 
 of the room, and told not to come back agin all day. 
 
 " Miss Mary," says I, — for my heart yurned to the poor gal, 
 as she came sobbing and miserable down stairs : " Miss Mary," 
 says I, " if I might make so bold, here's master's room empty, 
 and I know where the cold bif and pickles is." " Oh, Charles ! " 
 said she, nodding her head sadly, " I'm too retched to have 
 any.happytite." And she flung herself on a chair, and began to 
 cry fit to bust. 
 
 At this moment, who should come in but jny master. I had 
 taken hold of Miss Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I 
 should have kist it, when, as I said, Haltamont made his ap- 
 pearance. ".What's this ? " cries he, lookin.at me as black as 
 thunder, or as Mr. Philips as Hickit, in the new tragedy of 
 Mac Buff. 
 
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 413 
 
 " It's only Miss Mary, sir," answered I. 
 
 " Get out, sir," says he, as fierce as posbil ; and I felt some- 
 think (I think it was the tip of his to) touching me behind, and 
 found myself, nex minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and 
 buckets and things. 
 
 The people from up stairs came to see what was the matter, 
 as I was cussin and crying out. " It's only Charles, ma," 
 screamed out Miss Betsy. 
 
 " Where's Mary ? " says Mrs. Shum, from the sofy. 
 
 " She's in master's room, miss," said I. 
 
 "She's in the lodger's room, ma," cries Miss Shum, hecko- 
 ing me. 
 
 " Very good ; tell her to stay there till he cornes back." 
 And then Miss Shum went bouncing up the stairs again, little 
 knowing of Haltamont's return. 
 
 •Ai- A/, 
 
 *7v "7v *7T "vT *7v' "TV 
 
 I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring 
 after Mary Shum ; indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her 
 sake that he took and kep his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep 
 for the sake of love, which is above being mersnary, fourteen 
 shillings a wick was a little too strong for two such rat-holes as 
 he lived in. I do blieve the famly had nothing else but their 
 lodger to live on : they brekfisted off his tea leaves, they cut 
 away pounds and pounds of meat from his jints (he always 
 dined at home), and his baker's bill was at least enough for six. 
 But that wasn't my business. I saw him grin, sometimes, when 
 I laid down the cold bif of a morning, to see how little was left 
 of yesterday's sirline \ but he never said a syllabub : for true 
 love don't mind a pound of meat or so hextra. 
 
 At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals ; 
 Miss Betsy, in partickler, grew mighty fond of him : they sat, 
 for whole evenings, playing cribbitch, he taking his pipe and 
 glas, she her tea and muffing ; but as it was improper for her 
 to come alone, she brought one of her sisters, and this was gen- 
 rally Mary, — for he made a pint of asking her, too, — and one 
 day, when one of the others came instead, he told her, very 
 quitely, that he hadn't invited her ; and Miss Buckmaster was 
 too fond of muffings to try this game on again : besides, she 
 was jealous of her three grown sisters, and considered Mary as 
 only a child. Law bless us ! how she used to ogle him, and quot 
 bits of pottry, and play " Meet Me by Moonlike," on an old 
 gitter: she reglar flung herself at his head: but he wouldn't 
 have it, bein better ockypied elsewhere. 
 
 One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets 
 
 27 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 for "Ashley's," and proposed to take two young ladies — Miss 
 Betsy and Miss Mary, in course. I recklect he called me 
 aside that afternoon, assuming a solamon and misterus hare, 
 " Charles," said he, " are you up to snuff 1 " 
 
 " Why sir," said I, "I'm genrally considered tolerably downy." 
 
 "Well," says he, "I'll give you half a suffering if you can 
 manage this bisness forme ; I've chose a rainy night on purpus. 
 When the theatre is over, you must be waitin with two umbrel- 
 lows ; give me one, and hold the other over Miss Buckmaster : 
 and, hark ye, sir, turn to the right when you leave the theater, 
 and say the coach is ordered to stand a little way up the street, 
 in order to get rid of the crowd." 
 
 We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A.), and never shall I forgit 
 Cartiiche's hacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble ! 
 talk of Magreedy ! Ashley's for my money, with Cartlitch in 
 the principal part. But this is nothink to the porpus. When 
 the play was over, I was at the door with the umbrellos. It 
 was raining cats and dogs, sure enough. 
 
 Mr. Altamont came out presently, Miss Mary under his 
 arm, and Miss Betsy following behind, rather sulky. " This 
 way, sir," cries I, pushin forward ; and I threw a great cloak 
 o^er Miss Betsy, fit to smother her. Mr. A. and Miss Mary 
 skipped on and was out of sight when Miss Betsy's cloak was 
 settled, you may be sure. 
 
 " They're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the 
 street, away from the crowd of carridges." And off we turned 
 to the right, and no mistake. 
 
 After marchin a little through the plash and mud, " Has 
 anybody seen Coxy's fly ? " cries I, with the most innocent 
 haxent in the world. 
 
 " Cox's fly ! " hollows out one chap. " Is it the vaggin you 
 want ? " says another. " I see the blackin wan pass," giggles 
 out another genlmn ; and there was such a hinterchange of com- 
 pliments as you never heerd. I pass them over though, because 
 some of 'em were not wery genteel. 
 
 "Law, miss," said I, "what shall I do ? My master will 
 never forgive me ; and I haven't a single sixpence to pay a 
 coach." Miss Betsy was just going to call one when I said that; 
 but the coachman wouldn't have it at that price, he said, and I 
 knew very well that she hadn't four or five shillings to pay for a 
 wehicle. So, in the midst of that tarin rain, at midnight, we 
 had to walk four miles, from Westminster Bridge to Pentonwille ; 
 and what was wuss, / didn't happen to know the way. A very 
 nice walk it was, and no mistake. 
 
MISS S HUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 415 
 
 At about half-past two, we got safe to John Street. My 
 master was at the garden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss 
 Betsy's arms, while master began cussin and swearing at me for 
 disobeying his orders, and turning to the right instead of to the 
 left! Law bless me ! his hacting of hanger was very near as 
 natral and as terryble as Mr. Cartlich's in the play. 
 
 They had waited half-an-hour, he said, in the fly, in the little 
 street at the left of the theatre ; they had drove up and down 
 in the greatest fright possible ; and at last came home, thinking 
 it was in vain to wait any more. They gave her 'ot rum-anci- 
 water and roast oysters for supper, and this consoled her a 
 little. 
 
 I hope nobody will cast an imputation on Miss Mary for her 
 share in this adventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, 
 and I do believe is hignorant to this day of our little strattygim 0 
 Besides, all's fair in love ; and, as my master could never get 
 to see her alone, on account of her infernal eleven sisters and 
 ma, he took this opportunity of expressin his attachment to her. 
 
 If he was in love with her before, you may be sure she paid 
 it him back again now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they 
 were as tender as two tuttle-doves — which fully accounts for the 
 axdent what happened to me, in being kicked out of the room : 
 and in course I bore no mallis. 
 
 I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my mas- 
 ter was in love with her, but she loved muffings and tea, and 
 kem down to his parlor as much as ever. 
 
 Now comes the sing'lar part of my history. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 But who was this genlmn with a fine name— Mr. Frederic 
 Altamont ? or what was he ? The most mysterus genlmn that 
 ever I knew. Once I said to him on a wery rainy day, " Sir, 
 shall I bring the gig down to your office ? ,; and he gave me one 
 of his black looks and one of his loudest hoaths, and told me 
 to mind my own bizziness, and attend to my orders. Another 
 day, — it was on the day when Miss Mary slapped Miss Betsy's 
 face, — Miss M., who adoared him, as I have said already, kep 
 on asking him what was his buth, parentidg, and ediccation. 
 "Dear Frederic," says she, "why this mistry about yourself 
 and your hactions ? why hide from your little Mary" — they were 
 as tender as this, I can tell you — " your buth and your pro- 
 fessin ? " 
 
4 i6 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was only listening, 
 and he said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, " Marv," said he, 
 " if you love me, ask me this no more : let it be sfishnt for you 
 to know that I am a honest man, and that a secret, what it 
 would be misery for you to larn, must hang over all my actions 
 — that is from ten o'clock till six." 
 
 They went on chaffin and talking in this melumcolly and 
 mysterus way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said ; for 
 them houses in Pentonwille have only walls made of paste- 
 board, and you hear rayther better outside the room than in. 
 But, though he kep up his secret, he swpre to her his affektion 
 this day pint blank. Nothing should prevent him, he said, 
 from leading her to the halter, from makin her his adoarable 
 wife. After this was a slight silence. " Dearest Frederic," 
 mummered out miss, speakin as if she was chokin, " I am yours 
 — yours for ever." And then silence agen, and one or two 
 smax, as if there was kissin going on. Here I thought it best 
 to give a rattle at the door-lock ; for, as I live, there was old 
 Mrs. Shum a-walkin down the stairs ! 
 
 It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the 
 bedrum window, had seen my master come in, and coming 
 down to tea half-an-hour afterwards, said so in a cussary way. 
 Old Mrs. Shum, who was a dragon of vertyou, cam bustling 
 down the stairs, panting and frowning, as fat and as fierce as a 
 old sow at feedin time. 
 
 " Where's the lodger, fellow ? " says she to me. 
 
 I spoke loud enough to be heard down the street — " If you 
 mean, ma'am, my master, Mr. Frederick Altamont, esquire, 
 he's just stept in, and is puttin on clean shoes in his bed- 
 room." 
 
 She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening 
 the parlor door, sees master looking very queer, and Miss Mary 
 a-drooping down her head like a pale lily. 
 
 " Did you come into my famly," says she, " to corrupt my 
 daughters, and to destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal ? 
 Did you come here, sir, as a seducer, or only as a lodger ? 
 Speak, sir, speak ! " — and she folded her arms quite fierce, and 
 looked like Mrs. Siddums in the Traggic Mews. 
 
 " I came here, Mrs. Shum," said he, " because I love your 
 daughter, or I never would have condescended to live in such 
 a beggarly hole. I have treated her in every respect like a 
 genlmn, and she is as innocent now, ma'am, as she was when 
 she was born. If she'll marry me, I am ready; if she'll leave 
 you, she shall have a home where she shall be neither bullyd nor 
 
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 417 
 
 starved : no hangry frumps of sisters, no cross mother-in-law, 
 only an affeckshnat husband, and all the pure pleasures of 
 Hyming." 
 
 Mary flung herself into his arms — " Dear, dear Frederic/ 5 
 says she, " I'll never leave you." 
 
 " Miss," says Mrs. Shum, " you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a 
 Buckmaster, thank God. You may marry this person if your 
 pa thinks proper, and he may insult me — brave me — trample 
 on my feelinx in my own house — and there's no-o-o-obody by to 
 defend me." 
 
 I knew what she was going to be at : on came her histarrix 
 agen, and she began screechin and roarin like mad. Down 
 comes of course the eleven gals and old Shum. There was a 
 pretty row. " Look here, sir," says she, " at the conduck of 
 your precious trull of a daughter — alone with this man, kissin 
 and dandlin, and Lawd knows what besides." 
 
 ' What, he?" cries Miss Betsy — "he in love with Mary. 
 Oh, the wretch, the monster, the deceiver ! " — and she falls 
 down too, screeching away as loud as her mamma ; for the silly 
 creature fancied still that Altamont had a fondness for her. 
 
 u Silence these women!'''' shouts out Altamont, thundering 
 loud. " I love your daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her with- 
 out a penny, and can afford to keep her. If you don't give her 
 to me, she'll come of her own will. Is that enough ? — may I 
 have her ? " 
 
 " We'll talk of this matter, sir," says Mr. Shum, looking as 
 high and mighty as an alderman. " Gals, go up stairs with 
 your dear mamma." — And they all trooped up again, and so the 
 skrimmage ended. 
 
 You may be sure that old Shum was not very sorry to get a 
 husband for his daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her 
 better than all the pack which had been brought to him or born 
 to him by Mrs. Buckmaster. But, strange to say, when he came 
 to talk of settlements and so forth, not a word would my master 
 answer. He said he made four hundred a year reglar — he 
 wouldn't tell how — but Mary, if she married him, must share all 
 that he had, and ask no questions ; only this he would say, as 
 he'd said before, that he was a honest man. 
 
 They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel 
 house at Islington ; but still my master went away to business, 
 and nobody knew where. Who could he be ? 
 
4I 8 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life 
 with a chance of happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Alta- 
 mont. There house at .Cannon Row, Islington, was as com- 
 fortable as house could be. Carpited from top to to ; pore's 
 rates small ; furnitur elygant ; and three deomestix : of which 
 I, in course, was one. My life wasn't so easy as in Mr. A.'s 
 bachelor days ; but, what then ? The three W's is my maxum : 
 plenty of work, plenty of wittles, and plenty of wages. Alta- 
 mont kep his gig no longer, but went to the City in an omlibuster. 
 
 One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an 
 effeckschnut husband, might have been as happy as herblessid 
 majisty. Nothing of the sort. For the fust six months it was 
 all very well ; but then she grew gloomier and gloomier, though 
 A. did everythink in life to please her. 
 
 Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Can- 
 non Row, where he lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. 
 The pore little man was a thought too fond of wine and spirits ; 
 and many, and many's the night that I've had to support him 
 home. And you may be sure that Miss Betsy did not now 
 desert her sister : she was at our place mornink, noon, and 
 night ; not much to my master's liking, though he was too good- 
 natured to wex his wife in trifles. 
 
 But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, 
 and hated Altamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of 
 bad things into the head of poor innocent missis ; who, from 
 being all gayety and cheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly 
 and pale, and retchid, just as if she had been the most misr- 
 able woman in the world. 
 
 In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it 
 old Mrs. Shum, who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, 
 . and made her retchider and retchider. She used to bust into 
 tears when Altamont came home : she used to sigh and wheep 
 over the pore child, and say, " My child, my child, your father 
 is false to me ; " or, " your father deceives me ; " or, " what will 
 you do when your pore mother is no more ? " or such like 
 sentimental stuff. 
 
 It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon 
 found out. The fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in 
 the house, its a servant's duty to listen ; and listen I did, one 
 day when Mrs. was cryin as usual, and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin 
 consolin her, as she called it : though heaven knows, she only 
 grew wuss and wuss for the consolation. 
 
MISS S HUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 419 
 
 Well, I listened ; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and 
 misses cryin as yousual. 
 
 " Pore dear innocint," says Mrs. S., heavin a great sigh, 
 " you're the child of a unknown father and a misrable mother." 
 
 " Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma," says missis ; " he is 
 all kindness to me." 
 
 "All kindness, indeed ! yes, he gives you a fine house, and 
 a fine gownd, and a ride in a fly whenever you please ; but 
 where does all his money come from ? Who is he — what is he ? 
 Who knows that he mayn't be a murderer, or a housebreaker, 
 or a utterer of forged notes ? How can he make his money 
 honestly, when he won't say where he gets it ? Why does he 
 leave you eight hours every blessid day, and won't say where 
 he goes to ? Oh, Mary, Mary, you are the most injured of 
 women ! 
 
 And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin ; and Miss Betsy 
 began yowling like a cat in a gitter ; and pore missis cried, too 
 — tears is so remarkable infeckshsu. 
 
 " Perhaps, mamma," wimpered out she, " Frederic is a shop- 
 boy, and don't like me to know that he is not a gentleman." 
 
 " A shopboy," says Betsy ; " he a shopboy ! O no, no, no ! 
 more likely a wretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and 
 robing all day, and feedin you with the fruits of his ill-gotten 
 games ! " 
 
 More cryin and screechin here took place, in which the 
 baby joined ; and made a very pretty consort, I can tell you. 
 
 " He can't be a robber," cries missis ; " he's too good, too 
 kind, for that : besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic 
 is always home at eight." 
 
 " But he can be a forger," says Betsy, " a wicked, wicked 
 forger. Why does he go away every day ? to forge notes, to be 
 sure. Why does he go the City ? to be near banks and places, 
 and so do it more at his convenience." 
 
 " But he brings home a sum of money every day— about 
 thirty shillings — sometimes fifty : and then he smiles, and says 
 it's a good day's work. This is not like a forger," said pore 
 Mrs. A. 
 
 " I have it — I have it ! " screams out Mrs. S. " The villain 
 — the sneaking, double-faced Jonas ! he's married to somebody 
 else- he is, and that's why he leaves you, the base biggymist ? " 
 
 At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean 
 away. A dreadful business it was — hystarrix • then hystarrix, 
 in course, from Mrs. Shum ; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants 
 tearin up and clown stairs with hot water ! If ever there is a noo- 
 
42 o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O IVPL USH. 
 
 sance in the world, it's a house where faintin is always going on. 
 I wouldn't live in one, — no, not to be groom of the chambers, 
 and git two hundred a year. 
 
 It was eight o'clock in the evenin when this row took place ; 
 and such a row it was, that nobody but me heard master's 
 knock. He came in, and heard the hooping, and screeching, 
 and roaring. He seemed very much frightened at first, and 
 said, " What is it ? " 
 
 " Mrs. Shum's here," says I, " and Mrs. in astarrix." 
 
 Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a 
 word which I don't like to name, — let it suffice that it begins 
 with a d and ends with a iiatio7i ; and he tore up stairs like mad. 
 
 He bust open the bedroom door ; missis lay quite pale and 
 stony on the sofy ; the babby was screechin from the cracldle ; 
 Miss Betsy was sprawlin over missis ; and Mrs. Shum half on 
 the bed and half on the ground : all howlin and squeelin, like 
 so many dogs at the moond. 
 
 When A. came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of 
 a sudding. There had been one or two tiffs before between 
 them, and they feared him as if he had been a hogre. 
 
 " What's this infernal screeching and crying about ? " says 
 he. "Oh, Mr. Altamont," cries the old woman, "you know 
 too well ; it's about you that this darling child is misrabble ! " 
 
 " And why about me, pray, madam ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, dare you ask why ? Because you deceive her, 
 sir • because you are a false, cowardly traitor, sir ; because you 
 have a wife elsewhere, sir /" And the old lady and Miss Betsy 
 began to roar again as loud as ever. 
 
 Altamont pawsed for a minnit, and then flung the tloor wide 
 open ; nex he seized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and 
 he world her out of the room ; then up he goes to Mrs. S. 
 " Get up," says he, thundering loud, " you lazy, trollopping, 
 mischief-making, lying old fool ! Get up, and get out of this 
 house. You have been the cuss and bain of my happyniss 
 since you entered it. With your d — d lies, and novvle reading, 
 and histerrix, you have perwerted Mary, and made her almost 
 as mad as yourself." 
 
 " My child ! my child ! " shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings 
 round missis. But Altamont ran between them, and griping 
 the old lady by her arm, dragged her to the door. " Follow 
 your daughter, ma'm," says he, and dowm she went. " Chawls, 
 see those ladies to the door," he hollows out, " and never let them 
 pass it again." We walked down together, and off they went : 
 and master locked and double-locked the bedroom cloor after 
 
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND. 
 
 him, intendin, of course, to have a tator-tator (as they say) with 
 his wife. You may be sure that I followed up stairs again 
 pretty quick, to hear the result of their confidence. 
 
 As they say at St. Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate. 
 " Mary," says master, " you're no longer the merry grateful gal 
 I knew and loved at Pentonwill : there's some secret a pressin 
 on you — there's no smilin welcom for me now, as there used 
 formly to be! Your mother and sister-in-law have perwerted 
 you, Mary : and that's why I've drove them from this house, 
 which they shall not re-enter in my life." 
 
 " O, Frederic ! it's you is the cause, and not I. Why do you 
 have any mistry from me ? Where do you spend your days ? 
 Why did you leave me, even on the day of your marriage, for 
 eight hours, and continue to clo so every day ? " 
 
 " Because, says he, " I makes my livelihood by it. I leave 
 you, and I don't tell you how I make it : for it would make you 
 none the happier to know." 
 
 It was in this way the convysation ren on — more tears and 
 questions on my missises part, more sturmness and silence on 
 my master's : it ended for the first time since their marridge in 
 a reglar quarrel. Wery difrent, I can tell you, from all the ham- 
 merous billing and kewing which had proceeded the nupshuls. 
 
 Master went out, slamming the door in a fury ; as well he 
 might. Says he, " If I can't have a comforable life, I can 
 have a jolly one ; " and so he went off to the hed tavern, and 
 came home that evening beesly intawsicated. When high 
 words begin in a family drink generally follows on the genlman's 
 side ; and then, fearwell to all conjubial happyniss ! These 
 two pipple, so fond and loving, were now sirly, silent, and full 
 of il wil. Master went out earlier, and came home later ; mis- 
 sis cried more, and looked even paler than before. 
 
 Well, things went on in this uncomfortable way, master still 
 in the mopes, missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and 
 curosity ; until a singlar axident brought to light all the goings 
 on of Mr. Altamont. 
 
 It was the tenth of January ; I recklect the day, for old Shum 
 gev me half-a-crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, 
 by the way) : he was dining along with master, and they were 
 making merry together. 
 
 Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and 
 little Shum his twelfth or so — master said, " I see you twice in 
 the City to-day, Mr. Shum." 
 
 " Well, that's curious ! " says Shum. " I was in the City, 
 To-day's the day when the divvyclins (God bless 'em) is paid j 
 
422 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 and me . and Mrs. S. went for our half-year's inkem. But we 
 only got out of the coach, crossed the street to the Bank, took 
 our money, and got in agen. How could you see me twice ? " 
 
 Altamont stuttered and stammered and hemd, and hawd. 
 " O ! " says he, " I was passing — passing as you went in and 
 out." And he instantly turned the conversation, and began 
 talking about pollytix, or the weather, or some such stuff. 
 
 " Yes, my dear," said my missis, " but how could you see 
 papa twice ? " Master didn't answer, but talked pollytix more 
 than ever. Still she would continy on. " Where was you, my 
 dear, when you saw pa ? What were you doing, my love, to 
 see pa twice ? " and so 'forth. Master looked angrier and 
 angrier, and his wife only pressed him wuss and wuss. 
 
 This was, as I said, little Shum's twelfth tumler ; and I knew 
 pritty well that he could git very little further ; for, as reglar as 
 the thirteenth came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did 
 come, and its consquinzes. I was»obliged to leed him home 
 to- John Street, where I left him in the hangry arms of Mrs. 
 Shum. 
 
 " How the d — ," sayd he all the way, " how the d dd — the 
 deddy — deddy — devil — could he have seen me twice ? " 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 It was a sad slip on Altamont's part, for no sooner did he 
 go out the next morning than missis went out too. She tor 
 down the street, and never stopped till she came to her pa's 
 house at Pentonwill. She was clositid for an hour with her 
 ma, and when she left her she drove straight to the City. She 
 walked before the Bank, and behind the Bank, and round the 
 Bank : she came home disperryted, having learned nothink. 
 
 And it was now an extraordinary thing that from Shum's 
 house for the next ten days there was nothing but expyditions 
 into the City. Mrs. S., tho her dropsicle legs had never carred 
 her half so fur before, was eternally on the key veve, as the 
 French say. If she didn't go, Miss Betsy did, or misses did : 
 they seemed to have an attrackshun to the Bank, and went 
 there as natral as an omlibus. 
 
 At last one day, old Mrs. Shum comes to our house — (she 
 wasn't admitted when master was there, but came still in his 
 absints) — and she wore a hair of tryumph, as she entered. 
 " Mary," says she, " where is the money your husbind brought 
 to you yesterday ? " My master used always to give it to 
 missis when he returned. 
 
MISS SHUM 'S HUSBAND. 
 
 423 
 
 u The money, ma ! " says Mary. " Why here ! " And 
 pulling out her puss, she showed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, 
 and an odd-looking little coin. 
 
 " That's it ! that's it ! " cried Mrs. S. " A Queene Anne's 
 sixpence, isn't it, dear — dated seventeen hundred and three ? " 
 
 It was so sure enough : a Queen Ans sixpence of that very 
 date. 
 
 " Now, my love," says she, " I have found him ! Come 
 with me to-morrow, and you shall know all ! " 
 And now comes the end of my story. 
 
 J& J(U OA. JA. JA. ^L. AL. 
 
 "TV Tv *7v 7v "TV "7V -7v 
 
 The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked 
 behind, doing the genteel thing, with a nosegy and a goold stick. 
 We walked down the New Road — we walked down the City 
 Road — we walked to the Bank. We were crossing from that 
 heddyfiz to the other side of Cornhill, when all of a sudden 
 missis shreeked, and fainted spontaceously away. 
 
 1 rushed fofrard, and raised her to my arms : spiling thereby 
 a new weskit and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard, 
 I say, very nearly knocking down the old sweeper who was 
 hobbling away as fast as posibil. We took her to Birch's • 
 we provided her with a hackney-coach and every lucksury, and 
 carried her home to Islington. 
 
 -A/-- AL, ( . , "Jt ! Jt 
 
 "TV* "7v" "TV "7V "TV" *VV -7T 
 
 That night master never came home. Nor the nex night, 
 nor the nex. On the fourth day an auctioneer arrived ; he took 
 an infantry of the furnitur, and placed a bill in the window. 
 
 At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. 
 He was haggard and pale ; not so haggard, however, not so 
 pale as his miserable wife. 
 
 He looked at her very tendrilly. ,1 may say, it's from him 
 
 that I coppied my look to Miss . He looked at her very 
 
 tendrilly and held out his arms. She gev a suffycating shreek, 
 and rusht into his umbraces. 
 
 " Mary," says he, "you know all now. I have sold my place \ 
 I have got three thousand pounds for it, and saved two more. 
 I've sold my house and furnitur, and that brings me another. 
 We'll go abroad and love each other, has formly." 
 
 And now you ask me, Who he was ? I shudder to relate. 
 Mr. Haltamont swep the crossing from the Bank to Corn- 
 hill ! ! 
 
 Of cors, /left his servis. I met him, few years after, at 
 Badden-Badden, where he and Mrs. A. were much respectid, 
 and pass for pipple of propaty. 
 
4 2 4 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 
 
 DIMOND CUT DIMOND. 
 
 I.. , ju. ■ 
 
 The name of my nex master was, if posbil, still more elly- 
 gant and youfonious than that of my fust. I now found myself 
 boddy servant to the Honrabble Halgernon Percy Deuceace, 
 youngest and fifth son of the Earl of Crabs. 
 
 Halgernon was a barrystir — that is, he lived in Pump Cort, 
 Temple : a wulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no. 
 Sufiiz to say, it's on the confines of the citty, and the choasen 
 aboad of the lawyers of this metrappolish. 
 
 When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't 
 mean that he went sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), 
 but simply that he kep chambers, lived in Pump Cort, and 
 looked out for a commitionarship, or a revisinship, or any other 
 place that the Wig guvvyment could give him. His father was 
 a Wig pier (as the landriss told me), and had been a Toary 
 pier. The fack is, his lordship was so poar, that he would be 
 anythink or nothink, to get provisions for his sons and an inkum 
 for himself. 
 
 I phansy that he aloud Halgernon two hundred a year ; and 
 it would have been a very comforable maintenants, only he 
 knever paid him. 
 
 Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake ; 
 he got his allowents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most 
 honrabble and fashnabble manner. He kep a kab — he went 
 to Holmax — and Crockfud's — he moved in the most xquizzit 
 suckles and trubbld the law boox very little, I can tell you. 
 Those fashnabble gents have ways of getten money, witch coin- 
 man pipple doan't understand. 
 
 Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as 
 if he had the welth of Cresas. The tenpun notes floo abowt as 
 common as haypince — clarrit and shampang was at his house 
 as vulgar as gin ; and verry glad I was, to be sure, to be a val- 
 ley to a zion of the nobillaty. 
 
 Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of 
 
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 425 
 
 paper. The names of his family was wrote on it ; it was wrote 
 in the shape of a tree, a-groin out of a man-m-armer's stomick, 
 and the names were on little plates among the bows. The pic- 
 tur said that the Deuceaces kem into England in the year 1066, 
 along with William Conqueruns. My master called it his pody- 
 gree. I do bleev it was because he had this pictur, and be- 
 cause he was the Honrabble Deuceace, that he mannitched to 
 live as he did. If he had been a common man, you'd have 
 said he was no better than a swinler. It's only rank and buth 
 that can warrant such singularities as my master show'd. For 
 it's no use disgysing it — the Honrabble Halgernon was a gam- 
 bler. For a man of wulgar family, it's the wust trade that can 
 be — for a man of common feelinx of honesty, this profession is 
 quite imposbil ; but for a real thoroughbread genlmn, it's the 
 esiest and most prophetable line he can take. 
 
 It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man 
 should live in the Temple ; but it must be recklected, that it's 
 not only lawyers who live in what's called the Ins of Cort. 
 Many batchylers, who have nothink to do with lor, have here 
 their loginx ; and many sham barrysters, who never put on a 
 wig and gownd twise in their lives, kip apartments in the 
 Temple, instead of Bon Street, Pickledilly, or other fashnabble 
 places. 
 
 Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), 
 there was 8 sets of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was 
 bottom floar, Screwson, Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys ; fust 
 floar, Mr. Sergeant Flabber — opsite, Mr. Counslor BrufTy ; and 
 secknd pair, Mr. Haggerstony, an Irish counslor, praktising at 
 the Old Baly, and lickwise what they call reporter to the Morn- 
 ing Post nyouspapper. Opsite him was wrote 
 
 Mr. Richard Blewitt ; 
 
 and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins. 
 
 This young fellow was a new-comer into the Temple, and 
 unlucky it was for him too — he'd better have never been born ; 
 for it's my firm apinion that the Temple ruined him — that is, 
 with the help of my master and Mr. Dick Blewitt : as you shall 
 hear. 
 
 Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young 
 man, had jest left the Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty 
 little fortn of his own — six thousand pound, or so — in the stox. 
 He was jest of age, an orfin who had lost his father and 
 mother ; and having distinkwished hisself at Collitch, where he 
 
426 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 gained seflral prices, was come to town to push his fortn, and 
 study the barryster's bisness. 
 
 Not bein of a very high fammly hisself — indeed, I've heard 
 say his father was a chismonger, or somethink of that lo sort — 
 Dawkins was glad to find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, 
 yonger son to rich Squire Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take 
 rooms so near him. 
 
 Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy between me 
 and Mr. Blewitt's gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt 
 our masters, — mine being too much of the aristoxy to associate 
 with one of Mr. Blewitt's sort. Blewitt was what they call a 
 bettin man ; he went reglar to TattlesalPs, kep a pony, wore a 
 white hat, a blue berd's-eye handkercher, and a cut-away coat. 
 In his manners he was the very contrary of my master, who 
 was a slim, ellygant man as ever I see — he had very white 
 hands, rayther a sallow face, with sharp dark ise, and small 
 wiskus neatly trimmed and as black as Warren's jet — he spoke 
 very low and soft — he seemed to be watchin the person with 
 whom he was in convysation, and always flatterd everybody. 
 As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. He was always 
 swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as hearty as 
 posbill. He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur, whom 
 one would trust with life and soul. So thought Dawkins, at 
 least * who, though a quiet young man, fond of his boox, nov- 
 vles, Byron's poems, floot-playing, and such like scientific amuse- 
 mints, grew hand-in-glove with honest Dick Blewitt, and soon 
 after with my master, the Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw ! 
 he thought he was makin good connections and real frends — he 
 had fallen in with a couple of the most etrocious swinlers that 
 ever lived. 
 
 Before Mr. Dawkins's arrival in our house, Mr. Deuceace 
 had barely condysended to speak to Mr. Blewitt ; it was only 
 about a month after that suckumstance that my master, all of 
 a sudding, grew very friendly with him. The reason was pretty 
 clear, — Deuceace wanted him. Dawkins had not been an hour 
 in master's company before he knew that he had a pidgin to 
 pluck. 
 
 Blewitt knew this too : and bein very fond of pidgin, in- 
 tended to keep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to 
 see the Honrabble Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird 
 out of Blewitt's clause, who thought he had it safe. In fact, 
 he'd brought Dawkins to these chambers for that very porpos, 
 thinking to have him under his eye, and strip him at leisure. 
 
 My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's 
 
THE CALAIS PACKET. — MR. YELLOWPLUSH's EMOTIONS ON FIRST GOING 
 
 TO SEA. 
 
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCE ACE. 
 
 game. Gamblers know gamblers, if not by instink, at least by 
 reputation; and though Mr. Blewitt moved in a much lower 
 speare than Mr. Deuceace, they knew each other's dealins and 
 caracters puffickly well. 
 
 " Charles you scoundrel," says Deuceace to me one day (he 
 always spoak in that kind way), " who is this person that has 
 taken the opsit chambers, and plays the flute so industrusly ? " 
 
 " It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, 
 and a great friend of Mr. Blewittses, sir," says I ; " they seem 
 to live in each other's rooms." 
 
 Master said nothink, but he grin' ] d — my eye, how he did grin. 
 Not the fowl find himself could snear more satannickly. 
 
 I knew what he meant : 
 
 Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton. 
 Secknly. Mr. Blewitt is a raskle. 
 
 Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always to- 
 gether, and when the simpleton is rich, one knows pretty well 
 what will come of it. 
 
 I was but a lad in them days, but I knew what was what, 
 as well as my master ; it's not gentlemen only that's up to 
 snough. Law bless us ! there was four of us on £his stairkes, 
 four as nice young men as you ever see : Mr. Bruffy's young 
 man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr. Blewitt's, and me — and we knew what 
 our masters was about as well as they did theirself s. Frinstance, 
 I can say this for myself, there wasn't a paper in Deuceace's 
 desk or drawer, not a bill, a note, or mimerandum, which I 
 hadn't read as well as he : with Blewitt's it was the same — me 
 and his young man used to read 'em all. There wasn't a bottle 
 of wine that we didn't get a glass out of, nor a pound of sugar 
 that we didn't have some lumps of it. We had keys to all the 
 cubbards — we pipped into all the letters that kem and went — 
 we pored over all the bill-files — we'd the best pickers out of 
 the dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the force-mit balls out of 
 the soup, the egs from the sallit. As for the coals and candles, 
 we left them to the landrisses. You may call this robry— non- 
 since — it's only our rights — a suvvant's purquizzits is as sacred 
 as the laws of Hengland. 
 
 Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard Blewitt, 
 esquire, was sityouated as follows : He'd an incum of three 
 hunderd a year from his father. Out of this he had *o pay 
 one hundred and ninety for money borrowed by him atcollidge, 
 seventy for chambers, seventy more for his hoss, aty for his 
 suvvant on bord wagis, and about three hunderd and fifty for 
 a sepparat establishment in the Regency Park ; besides this, 
 
428 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 his pockit-money, say a hunderd, his eatin, drinkin, and wine- 
 marchant's bill, about two hunderd moar. So that you see he 
 laid by a pretty handsome sum at the end of the year. 
 
 My master was diffrent ; and being a more fashnabble man 
 than Mr. B., in course he owed a deal more mony. There was 
 fust: 
 
 I give this as a curosity — pipple don't know how in many 
 cases fashnabble life is carried on ; and to know even what a 
 real gnlmn owes is somethink instructif and agreeable. 
 
 But to my tail. The very day after my master had made 
 the inquiries concerning. Mr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned al- 
 ready, he met Mr. Blewitt on the stairs ; and byoutiffle it was 
 to see how this genlmn, who had before been almost cut by my 
 master, was now received by him. One of the sweetest smiles 
 I ever saw was now vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's countenance. 
 He held out his hand, covered with a white kid glove, and said r 
 in the most frenly -tone of vice posbill, " What ? Mr. Blewitt ? 
 It is an age since we met. What a shame that such near nay- 
 bors should see each other so seldom ! " 
 
 Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green 
 dressing-gown, smoakin a segar, and singing a hunting coarus, 
 looked surprised, flattered, and then suspicious. 
 
 " Why, yes," says he, " it is, Mr. Deuceace, a long time." 
 
 " Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey's. By 
 the bye, what an evening that was — hay, Mr. Blewitt ? What 
 wine ? what capital songs ? I recollect your ' May-day in the 
 morning ' — cuss me, the best comick song I ever heard. I was 
 speaking to the Duke of Doncaster about it only yesterday. 
 You know the duke, I think ? " 
 
 Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, " No, I don't." 
 
 " Not know him ! " cries master ; "why, hang it, Blewitt ! 
 he knows you ; as every sporting man in England does, I should 
 think. Why, man, your good things are in everybody's mouth 
 at Newmarket." 
 
 And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That genlmn at 
 fust answered him quite short and angry : but, after a little 
 
 Account contray, at Crockford's 
 
 Biils of xchange and I. O. U.'s (but he didn't pay these 
 
 in most cases) 
 21 tailors' bills, in all 
 3 hossdealers' do. • 
 2 coachbuilder . 
 Bills contracted at Cambridtch 
 Sundries .... 
 
 £37** 0 o 
 
 4963 o o 
 
 1306 11 9 
 
 402 o o 
 
 506 o o 
 
 2193 6 8 
 
 987 10 o 
 
 ^14069 8 5 
 
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 
 
 more flummery, he grew as pleased as posbill, took in all 
 Deuceace's flattry, and bleeved all his lies. At last the door 
 shut, and they both went into Mr. Blewitt's chambers together. 
 
 Of course I can't say what past there ; but in an hour 
 master kem up to his own room as yaller as mustard, and 
 smellin sadly of backo-smoke. I never see any genlmn mere 
 sick than he was ; he'd been smoakin seagars along with Blewitt. 
 I said nothink, in course, tho I'd often heard him xpress his 
 horrow of backo, and knew very well he would as soon swallow 
 pizon as smoke. But he wasn't a chap to do a thing without a 
 reason : if he'd been smoakin, I warrant he had smoked to 
 some porpus. 
 
 I didn't hear the convysation between 'em ; but Mr. Blewitt's 
 man did : it was, — " Well, Mr. Blewitt, what capital seagars ! 
 Have you one for a friend to smoak ? " (The old fox, it wasn't 
 only the seagars he was a-smoakin!) " Walk in," says Mr. 
 Blewitt ; and they began a-chaffm together ; master very ank- 
 shous about the young gintleman who had come to live in our 
 chambers, Mr. Dawkins, and always coming back to that sub- 
 ject, — saying that people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly \ 
 how glad he'd be for his part to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and 
 any friend of Ais, and so on. Mr. Dick, howsever, seamed 
 quite aware of the trap laid for him. " I really don't know 
 this Dawkins," says he : " he's a chismonger's son, I hear ; and 
 tho I've exchanged visits with him, I doan't intend to continyou 
 the acquaintance, — not wishin to assoshate with that kind of 
 pipple." So they went on, master fishin, and Mr. Blewitt not 
 wishin to take the hook at no price. 
 
 " Confound the vulgar thief ! " muttard my master, as he 
 was laying on his sophy, after being so very ill ; " I've poisoned 
 myself with his infernal tobacco, and he has foiled me. The 
 cursed swindling boor ! he thinks he'll ruin this poor cheese- 
 monger, does he ? I'll step in, and warn him." 
 
 I thought I should bust a-laffin, when he talked in this style. 
 I knew very well what his " warning" meant, — lockin the 
 stable door but stealin the hoss fust. 
 
 Next day, his strattygam for becoming acquainted with Mr. 
 Dawkins we exicuted ; and very pritty it was. 
 
 Besides potry and the flute, Mr. Dawkins, I must tell you, 
 had some other parshallities — wiz., he was very fond of good 
 eatin and drinkin. After doddling over his music and boox all 
 day, this young genlmn used to sally out of evenings, dine 
 sumptiously at a tavern, drinkin all sots of wine along with his 
 friend Mr. Blewitt. He was a quiet young fellow enough at 
 
 28 
 
4 3 o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 fust ; but it was Mr. H who (for his own porpuses, no doubO 
 had got him into this kind of life. Well, I needn't say that he 
 who eats a fine dinner, and drinks too much overnight, wants a 
 bottle of sodawater, and a gril, praps, in the morning. Such 
 was Mr. Dawkinses case ; and reglar almost as twelve o'clock 
 came, the waiter from " Dix Coffy-house " was to be seen on 
 our stairkis, bringing up Mr. D.'s hot breakfast. 
 
 No man would have thought there was anythink in such a 
 trifling cirkumstance • master did, though, and pounced upon 
 it like a cock on a barlycorn. 
 
 He sent me out to Mr. Morell's in Pickledilly, for wot's 
 • called a Strasbug-pie — in French, a "patty defau graw" He 
 takes a card, and nails it on the outside case (patty defaw graws 
 come generally in a round wooden box, like a drumb) ; and 
 what do you think he writes on it ? why, as folios : — " For tJie 
 Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace, &>c. 9 &>c, &>c. With Prince 
 Talleyra?id > s complime7its." 
 
 Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed ! I laff when I 
 think of it, still, the old surpint ! He ivas a surpint, that Deuce- 
 ace, and no mistake. 
 
 Well, by a most extrornary piece of ill-luck, the nex day 
 punctially as Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming np the stairs, 
 Mr. Halgernon Percy Deuceace was going down. He was as 
 gay as a lark, humming an Oppra tune, and twizzting round his 
 head his hevy gold-headed cane. Down he went very fast, and 
 by a most unlucky axdent struck his cane against the waiters 
 tray, and away went Mr. Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, soda- 
 water and all ! I can't think how my master should have choas 
 such an exact time ; to be sure, his windo looked upon the cort, 
 and he could see everv one who came into our door. 
 
 As soon as the axdent had took place, master was in such a 
 rage as, to be sure, no man ever w r as in befor ; he swoar at the 
 waiter in the most dreddfle way ; he threatened him with his 
 stick, and it was only when he see that the waiter was rayther a 
 bigger man than hisself that he was in the least pazzyfied. He 
 returned to his own chambres ; and John, the waiter, went off 
 for more gril to Dixes Coffy-house. 
 
 " This is a most unlucky axdent, to be sure, Charles," says 
 master to me, after a few minits paws, during witch he had 
 been and wrote a note, put it into an anvelope, and sealed it 
 with his big seal of arms. " But stay — a thought strikes me — 
 take this note to Mr. Dawkins, and that pye you brought yester- 
 day i and hearkye, you scoundrel, if you say where you got it I 
 will break every bone in your skin ! " 
 
■if 
 
 THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCE ACE. 43 r 
 
 These kind of prommises were among the few which I knew 
 him to keep : and as I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I 
 carried the noat, and of cors said nothink. Waiting in Mr. 
 Dawkinses chambus for a few minnits, I returned to my master 
 with an anser. I may as well give both of these documence, of 
 which I happen to have taken coppies : 
 
 THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE TO T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ. 
 
 Temple, Tuesday* # 
 
 " Mr. Deuceace presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and begs at the same time to 
 offer his most sincere apologies and regrets for the accident which has just taken place. 
 
 " May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbor's privilege, and to remedy the evil he 
 has occasioned to the best of his power? If Mr. Dawkins will do him the favor to partake 
 of the contents of the accompanying case (from Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a friend, 
 on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), perhaps he will find that it is not a 
 bad substitute for the plat which Mr. Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed. 
 
 " It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to the original donor of the 
 pate, when he learns that it has fallen into the hands of so celebrated a bon-vivant as Mr. 
 Dawkins. 
 
 " T. S, Dawkins, Esq,, &c, &*c, 
 
 II. 
 
 FROM T. S. DAWKINS, ESQ., TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. 
 
 ** Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins presents his grateful compliments to the Hon. Mr. 
 Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest pleasure Mr. Deuceace's generous proffer. 
 
 " It would be one of the happiest moments of Mr. Smith Dawkins's life if the Hon. 
 Mr. Deuceace would extend his generosity still further, and condescend to partake of the 
 repast which his munificent politeness has furnished. 
 
 " Temple, Tuesday." 
 
 Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these 
 letters, which I had wrote from the original by Mr. Bruffy's 
 copying dark. Deuceace's flam about Prince Tallyram was 
 pufftckly successful. I saw young Dawkins blush with delite 
 as he red the note ; he tore up for or five sheets before he com- 
 posed the answer to it, which was as you red abuff, and roat in 
 a hand quite trembling with pleasyer. If you could but have seen 
 the look of triumph in Deuceace's wicked black eyes, when he 
 read the noat ! I never see a deamin yet, but I can phansy 1, 
 a holding a writhing soal on his pitchfork, and smilin like 
 Deauceace. He dressed himself in his very best clothes, and 
 in he went, after sending me over to say that he would xcept 
 with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite. 
 
 The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation begun 
 
432 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 betwixt the two genlmin. Deuceace was quite captivating. 
 He spoke to Mr. Dawkins in the most respeckful and flatrin 
 manner, — agread in every think he said, — prazed his taste, his 
 furniter, his coat, his. classick nolledge, and his playin on the 
 floot ; you'd have thought, to hear him, that such a polygon of 
 exlens as Dawkins did not breath, — that such a modist, sinsear, 
 honrabble genlmn as Deuceace was to be seen nowhere xcept 
 in Pump Cort v Poor Daw was complitly taken in. My master 
 said he'd introduce him to the Duke of Doncaster, and heaven 
 knows how many nobs more, till Dawkins was quite intawsicated 
 with pleasyour. I know as a fac (and it pretty well shows the 
 • young genlmn's carryter), that he went that very day and 
 ordered 2 new r coats, on porpos to be introjuiced to the lords in. 
 
 But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and 
 swarink — up stares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung open 
 Mr. Dawkin's door, shouting out, " Daw my old Buck, how are 
 you ? " when, all of a sudden, he sees Mr. Deuceace : his jor 
 dropt, he turned chocky white, and then burnin red, and looked 
 as if a stror would knock him down. " My dear Mr. Blewitt," 
 says my master, smilin and off ring his hand, " how glad I am 
 to see you. Mr. Daw T kins and I were just talking about your 
 pony ! Pray sit down." 
 
 Blewitt did ; and now was the question, who should sit the 
 other out ; but law bless you ! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my 
 master : all the time he was fidgetty, silent, and sulky ; on the 
 contry, master was charmin. I never herd such a rlo of conver- 
 sation, or so many wittacisms as he uttered. At last, completely 
 beat, Mr. Blewitt took his leaf ; that instant master followed 
 him ; and passin his arm through that of Mr. Dick, led him into 
 our chambers, and began talkin to him in the most affabl and 
 affeekshnat manner. 
 
 But Dick was too angry to listen ; at last, when master was 
 telling him some long story about the Duke of Doncaster, 
 Blewitt burst out — 
 
 " A plague on the Duke of Doncaster ! Come, come, Mr. 
 Deuceace, don't you be running your rigs upon me ; I ain't the 
 man to be bamboozl'd by long-winded stories about dukes and 
 duchesses. You think I don't know you ; every man knows 
 you and your line of country. Yes, you're after young Dawkins 
 
 there, and think to pluck him ; but you sha'n't, — no, by ■ 
 
 you sha'n't." (The reader must recklect that the oaths which 
 interspussed Mr. B's convysation I have left out.) Well, after 
 he'd fired a wolley of 'em, Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool as 
 possbill. 
 
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE. 
 
 433 
 
 " Heark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most in- 
 fernal thieves and scoundrels unhung. If you attempt to hector 
 with me, I will cane you ; if you want more, I'll shoot you ; if 
 you meddle between me and Dawkins, I will do both. I know 
 your whole life, you miserable swindler and coward. I know 
 ydu have already won two hundred pounds of this lad, and want 
 all. I will have half, or you never shall have a penny.'' It's 
 quite true that master knew things ; but how was the wonder. 
 
 I couldn't see Mr. B.'s face during this dialogue, bein on 
 the wrong side of the door ; but there was a considdrable paws 
 after thuse complymints had passed between the two genlmn,* m 
 — one walkin quickly up and down the room, — tother, angry and 
 stupid, sittin down, and stampin with his foot. 
 
 f Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt," continues master at last. 
 " If you're quiet, you shall half this fellow's money : but 
 venture to win a shilling from him in my absence, or without 
 my consent, and you do it at your peril." 
 
 " Well, well, Mr. Deuceace," cries Dick, " it's very hard, 
 and I must say, not fair : the game was of my startin, and you've 
 no right to interfere with my friend." 
 
 "Mr. Blewitt, you are a fool! You professed yesterday 
 not to know this man, and I was obliged to find him out for 
 myself. I should like to know by what law of honor I am 
 bound to give him up to you ? " 
 
 It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talking about 
 honor. I declare I could have found it in my heart to warn young 
 Dawkins of the precious way in which these chaps were going 
 to serve him. But if they didn't know what honor was, /did ; 
 and never, never did I tell tails about my masters when in their 
 sarvice — out, in cors, the hobligation is no longer binding. 
 
 Well, the next day there was a gran dinner at our chambers. 
 White soop, turbit, and lobstir sos ; saddil of Scoch muttn, 
 grous, and M'Arony ; wines, champagn, hock, maderia, a bottle 
 of poart, and ever so many of clarrit. The compny presint was 
 three ; wiz., the Honrabble A. P. Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and 
 Mr. Dawkins, Exquires. My i, how we genlmn in the kitchin 
 did enjy it. Mr. Blewittes man eat so much grous (when it 
 was brot out of the parlor), that I reely thought he would be 
 sik ; Mr. Dawkinses genlmn (who was only abowt 13 years of 
 age) grew so il with M'Arony and plumb-puddn, as to be 
 obleeged to take sefral of Mr. D's pils, which y 2 kild him. But 
 this is all promiscuous : I an't talkin of the survants now, but 
 the masters. 
 
 Would you bleeve it ? After dinner and praps 8 bottles of 
 
434 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPL USH. 
 
 wine between the 3, the genlm sat down to ecarty. It's a game 
 where only 2 plays, and where, in coarse, when there's only 3, 
 one looks on. 
 
 Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At 
 this game they were wonderful equill ; and about supper-time 
 (when grilled am, more champang, devld biskits, and other 
 things, was brot in ) the play stood thus : Mr. Dawkins had won 
 2 pounds ; Mr. Blewitt, 30 shillings ; the Honrabble Mr. 
 Deuceace having lost 3/. ioj". After the dewle and the sham- 
 pang the play was a little higher. Now it was pound pints, and 
 five pound the bet. I thought to be sure, after hearing the 
 •complymints between Blewitt and master in the morning, that 
 now poor Dawkins's time was come. 
 
 Not so : Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, 
 and giving him the very best of advice. At the end of the 
 evening (which was abowt five o'clock the nex morning) they 
 stopt. Master was counting up the skore on a<:ard. 
 
 " Blewitt," says he, " I've been unlucky. I owe you — let 
 me see — yes, five-and-forty pounds ? " 
 
 " Five-and-forty," said Blewitt, " and no mistake !" 
 
 "I will give you a check," says the honrabble genlmn. 
 
 " Oh ! don't mention it, my dear sir ! " But master got a 
 great sheet of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, 
 Algit and Co., his bankers. 
 
 " Now," says master, " I've got to settle with you, my dear 
 Mr. Dawkins. If you had backd your luck, I should have 
 owed you a very handsome sum of money. Voyons, thirteen 
 points at a pound — it is easy to calculate and drawin out his 
 puss, he clinked over the table 13 goolden suverings, which 
 shon till they made my eyes wink. 
 
 So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trem- 
 bling, and drew them in. 
 
 " Let me say," added master, ' ; let me say (and I've had 
 some little experience), that you are the very best Scarfe player 
 with whom I ever sat down." 
 
 Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said, 
 " Law, Deuceace, you flatter me." 
 
 Flatter him ! I should think he did. It was the very think 
 which master ment. 
 
 " But mind you, Dawkins," continyoud he, " I must have my 
 revenge ; for I'm ruined — positively ruined — by your luck." 
 
 "Well, well," says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased 
 as if ye had gained a millium, " shall it be to-morrow ? Blewitt, 
 what say you ? " 
 
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCE A CE, 
 
 435 
 
 Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. My master, after a little 
 demurring, consented too. " We'll meet," says he, " at your 
 chambers. But mv dear fello, not too much wine : I can't 
 stand it at any time, especially when I have to play ecarte with 
 you" 
 
 Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. " Here, 
 Charles," says he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow ! pore 
 fellow ! I knew what was a-comin ! 
 
 But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins 
 won, master had borrowed them from Mr. Blewitt / I brought 
 'em with 7 more, from that young genlmn's chambers that very 
 morning : for since his interview with master, Blewitt had 
 nothing to refuse him. 
 
 Well, shall I continue the tail ? If Mr. Dawkins had been 
 the least bit wiser, it would have taken him six months befoar 
 he lost his money j as it was, he was such a confunded ninny, 
 that it took him a very short time to part with it. 
 
 Next day (it was Thursday, and master's acquaintance with 
 Mr. Dawkins had only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, 
 as I said, gev his party, — dinner at 7. Mr. Blewitt and the 
 two Mr. D.'s as befoar. Play begins at 11. This time I knew 
 the business was pretty serious, for we suvvants was packed off 
 to bed at 2 o'clock. On Friday, I went to chambers — no mas- 
 ter — he kem in for 5 minutes at about 12, made a little toilit, 
 ordered more devvles and soda-water, and back again he went 
 to Mr. Dawkins's. 
 
 They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to 
 eat, for all the vittles came out to us genlmn : they had in 
 more wine though, and must have drunk at least two dozen in 
 the 36 hours. 
 
 At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master 
 came to his chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, 
 namlyreglar drunk. He staggered about the room, he danced, 
 he hickipd, he swoar, he flung me a heap of silver, and finely, 
 he sunk down exosted on his bed ; I pullin off his boots and 
 close, and making him comfrable. 
 
 When I ha<} removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty 
 of every servant to do — I emtied his pockits, and looked at his 
 pockit-book and all his letters : a number of axdents have 
 been prevented that way. 
 
 I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty 
 dockyment : — 
 
436 THE MEMOIRS OF MR, C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 I. o. u. 
 
 Thomas Smith Dawkins 
 Friday, 16 th January. 
 
 There was another bit of paper of the same kind—" I. 0. 
 U. four hundred pounds : Richard Blewitt : " but this, in corse, 
 
 ment nothink. 
 
 # # # * # 
 
 Nex mornin, at nine, master was up, and as sober as a judg. 
 He drest, and was off to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a 
 cab, and the two gentlmn went together. 
 
 " Where shall he drive, sir ? " says I. 
 
 " Oh, tell him to drive to the Bank." 
 
 Pore Dawkins ! his eyes red with remors and sleepliss 
 drunkeniss, gave a shudder and a sob, as he sunk back in the 
 wehicle ; and they drove on. 
 
 That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five 
 
 hundred pounds. 
 
 # # # # * 
 
 Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came 
 stridin up the stairs with a solium and important hair. 
 " Is your master at home ? " says he. 
 
 " Yes, sir," says I ; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my 
 ear to the keyhole, listning with all my mite. 
 
 "Well," says Blewitt, "we maid a pretty good night of it, 
 Mr. Deuceace. Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins." 
 
 " Settled ! " says master. " Oh, yes — yes — I've settled with 
 him." 
 
 " Four thousand seven hundred, I think ? " 
 " About that— yes." 
 
 " That makes my share — let me see — two thousand three 
 hundred and fifty ; which I'll thank you to fork out." 
 
 " Upon my word — why — Mr. Blewitt," says master, " I don't 
 really understand what you mean." 
 
 " You don't know what 1 mean /" says Blewitt, in an axent 
 such as I never before heard. "You don't know what I mean! 
 Did you not promise me that we were to go shares ? Didn't I 
 lend you twenty sovereigns the other night to pay our losings 
 to Dawkins ! Didn't you swear, on your honor as a gentle* 
 man, to give me half of all that might be won in this affair ? " 
 
FORING PAlfTS. 
 
 437 
 
 " Agreed, sir," says Deuceace ; " agreed." 
 
 " Well, sir, and now what have you to say ? " 
 
 " Why, that I don't intend to keep my promise ! You infernal 
 ' fool and ninny ! do you suppose I was laboring for you ? Do 
 you fancy I was going to the expense of giving a dinner to 
 that jackass yonder, that you should profit by it ? Get away, 
 sir ! Leave the room, sir ! Or, stop — here — I will give you 
 four hundred pounds — your own note of hand, sir, for that sum, 
 if you will consent to forget all that has passed between us, 
 and that you have never known Mr. Algernon Deuceace." 
 
 I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like 
 Blewitt. He stormed, groaned, belloed, swoar ! At last, he 
 fairly began blubbring ; now cussing and nashing his teeth, now 
 praying dear Mr. Deuceace to grant him mercy. 
 • At last, master flung open the door (heaven bless us ! it's 
 well I didn't tumble hed over eels into the room !), and said, 
 " Charles, show the gentleman down stairs ! " My master looked 
 at him quite steddy. Blewitt slunk down, as misrabble as any 
 man l ever see. As for Dawkins, heaven knows where he was. 
 
 ^r, *SL. ^L, J£- >SL* >St* 
 
 "TV *7V "VV' */V "A* vv 
 
 " Charles," says my master to me, about an hour afterwards, 
 " I'm going to Paris ; you may come, too, if you please." 
 
 FORING PARTS. 
 
 It was a singular proof of my master's modesty, that though 
 he had won this andsome sum of Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined 
 to be as extravygant and osntatious as any man I ever seed, 
 yet, when he determined on going to Paris, he didn't let a 
 single frend know of all them winnings of his ; didn't acquaint 
 my Lord Crabs his father, that he was about to leave his natiff 
 shoars — neigh — didn't even so much as call together his trades- 
 min, and pay off their little bills befor his departure. 
 
 On the contry, " Chawles," said he to me, " stick a piece of 
 paper on my door," which is the way that lawyers do, " and 
 write ' Back at seven ' upon it." Back at seven I wrote, and 
 stuck it on our outer oak. And so mistearus was Deuceace 
 about his continental tour (to all except me), that when the 
 
438 THE MEMOIRS OE MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 landriss brought him her account for the last month (amountain, 
 at the very least, to 2/. 1037), master told her to leave it till 
 Monday morning, when it should be properly settled. It's 
 extrodny how ickonomical a man becomes, when he's got five 
 thousand lbs. in his pockit. 
 
 Back at 7 indeed ! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover 
 Road, in the Reglator Coach — master inside, me out. A 
 strange company of people there was, too, in that wehicle, — 3 
 sailors ; an Italyin with his music-box and munky ; a missionary, 
 going to convert the heathens in France ; 2 oppra girls (they 
 call 'em figure-aunts), and the figure-aunts' mothers inside ; 4 
 Frenchmin, with gingybred caps and mustaches, singing, chat- 
 tering, and jestiklating in the most vonderful vay. Such com- 
 pliments as passed between them and the figure-aunts ! such a 
 munshin of biskits and sippin of brandy ! such " O mong Jews,*" 
 and " O sacrrres," and " kill fay frwaws ! " I didn't understand 
 their languidge at that time, so of course can't igsplain much 
 of their conwersation ; but it pleased me, nevertheless, for now 
 I felt that I was reely going into foring parts : which, ever sins 
 I had had any edication at all, was always my fondest wish. 
 Heavin bless us ! thought I, if these are specimeens of all 
 Frenchmen, what a set they must be. The pore Italyin's 
 monky, sittin mopin and meluncolly on his box, was not half 
 so ugly, and seamed quite as reasonabble. 
 
 Well, we arrived at Dover — " Ship Hotel " — weal cutlets 
 half a ginny, glas of ale a shilling, glas of neagush, half-a-crownd, 
 a hapny-worth of wax-lites four shillings, and so on. But 
 master paid without grumbling ; as long as it was for himself 
 lie never minded the expens ; and nex day we embarked in the 
 packit for Balong sir-mare — which means in French, the town 
 of Balong sityouated on the sea. I who had heard of foring 
 wonders, expected this to be the fust and greatest : phansy, 
 then, my disapintment, when we got there, to find this Balong, 
 not situated on the sea, but on the shoar. 
 
 But oh ! the gettin there was the bisniss. How I did wish 
 for Pump Court agin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel ! 
 Gentle reader, av you ever been on the otion ? — " The sea, the 
 sea, the open sea ! " as Barry Cromwell says. As soon as we 
 entered our little wessel, and I'd looked to master's luggitch 
 and mine (mine was rapt up in a very small hankercher), as 
 soon, I say, as we entered our little wessel, as soon as I saw the 
 waives, black and frothy, like fresh drawn porter, a-dashin 
 against the ribs of our galliant bark, the keal like a wedge, 
 splittin the billoes in two, the sales a-flaffin in the hair, the 
 
FORING PARTS. 
 
 439 
 
 standard of Hengland floating at the mask-head, the steward 
 a-getting ready the basins and things, the capting proudly tred- 
 ding the deck and giving orders to the salers, the white rox of 
 Albany and the bathin-masheens disappearing in the distans — 
 then, then I felt, for the first time, the mite, the madgisty of 
 existence. " Yellowplush my boy," said I, in a dialogue with 
 myself, " your life is now about to commens — your carear, as a 
 man, dates from your entrans on board this packit. Be wise, 
 be manly, be cautious, forgit the follies of your youth. You are 
 no longer a boy now, but a footman. Throw down your tops, 
 your marbles, your boyish games — throw off your childish 
 habbits with your inky clerk's jackit — throw up your " 
 
 ^ .AA, *\L> -A£, 
 
 -7V "7v *7v* "Tv "7V 
 
 Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the 
 ' fust place singlar, in the next place painful, and at last com- 
 pleatly overpowering, had come upon me while I was making 
 the abuff speach, and now I found myself in a sityouation which 
 Dellixy for Bids me to describe. Suffls to say, that now I dix- 
 covered what basins was made for — that for many, many hours, 
 I lay in a hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and purposes, 
 the rain pattering in my face, the salers tramplink over my body 
 — the panes of purgatory going on inside. When we'd been 
 abqut four hours in this sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), 
 the steward comes to that part of the deck where we servants 
 were all huddled up together, and calls out " Charles ! " 
 
 " Well," says I, gurgling out a faint " yes, what's the 
 matter ? " 
 
 " You're wanted.' 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 "Your master's wery ill," says he, with a grin. 
 
 " Master be hanged ! " says I, turning round, more misrable 
 than ever. I woodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand 
 masters — no, not for the Empror of Russia or the Pop of 
 Room. 
 
 Well, to cut this sad subjick short, many and many a voyitch 
 have I sins had upon what Shakspur calls the " wasty clip," but 
 never such a retched one as that from Dover to Balong, in the 
 year Anna JDomino 1818. Steemers were scarce in those days ; 
 and our journey was made in a smack. At last, when I was in 
 a stage of despare and exostion, as reely to phansy myself at 
 Death's doar, we got to the end of our journey. Late in the 
 evening we hailed the Gaelic shoars,. and hankered in the arbor 
 of Balong sir-mare. 
 
 It was the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master : and as 
 
44 o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 we entered the calm water, and saw the comfrabble lights 
 gleaming in the houses, and felt the roal of the vessel degreas- 
 ing, never was two mortials gladder, I warrant, than we were. 
 At length our capting drew up at the key, and our - journey was 
 down. But such a bustle and clatter, such jabbering, such 
 shrieking and swaring, such wollies of oafs and axicrations as 
 saluted us on landing, I never knew ! We were boarded, in the 
 fust place, by custom-house officers in cock-hats, who seased 
 our luggitch, and called for our passpots : then a crowd of inn- 
 waiters came, tumbling and screaming on deck — " Dis way, 
 sare," cries one; "Hotel Meurice," says another; "Hotel de 
 Bang," screeches another chap — the tower of Babyle was 
 nothink to it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was a 
 big fellow with earrings, who very nigh knock me down, in 
 wrenching master's carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carry- 
 ing it to the hotell. But we got to it safe at last ; and, for the 
 fust time in my life, I slep in a foring country. 
 
 I sha'n't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been 
 visited by not less (on an avaridg) than twomilliums of English 
 since I fust saw it twenty years ago, is tolrabbly well known 
 already. It's a dingy mellumcolly place, to my mind ; the only 
 thing moving in the streets is the gutter which runs down 'em. 
 As for wooden shoes, I saw few of 'em ; and for frogs, upon my 
 honor I never see a single Frenchman swallow one, which I had 
 been led to beleave was their reg'lar, though beastly, custom. 
 One thing which amazed me was the singlar name which they 
 give to this town of Balong. It's divided, as every boddy 
 knows, into an upper town (sityouate on a mounting, and sur- 
 rounded by a wall, or bidlyvar) and a lower town, which is on 
 the level of the sea. Well, will it be believed that they call the 
 upper town the Hot Veal, and the other the Base Veal, which is 
 on the contry, genrally good in France, though the beaf, it must 
 be confest, is exscrabble. 
 
 It was in the Base Veal that Deuceace took his lodgian, at 
 the Hotel de Bang, in a very crooked street called the Rue del 
 Ascew ; and if he'd been the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the 
 Duke of Canterbury, he could not have given himself greater 
 hairs, I can tell you. Nothing was too fine for us now ; we 
 had a sweet of rooms on the first floor, which belonged to the 
 prime minister of France (at least the landlord said they were 
 the premier's) ; and the Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace, who 
 had not paid his landriss, and came to Dover in a coach, 
 seamed now to think that goold was too vulgar for him, and a 
 carridge and six would break down with a man of his weight. 
 
FORING PARTS. 
 
 441 
 
 Champang flew about like ginger-po^ besides bordo, clarit, 
 burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the delixes of the 
 Balong kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this dull place, and 
 did nothing from morning till night excep walk on the beach, 
 and watch the ships going in and out of arber, with one of 
 them long, sliding opra-glasses, which they call, I don't know 
 why, tallow-scoops. Our amusements for the fortnit we stopped 
 here were boath numerous and daliteful ; nothink, in fact, could 
 be more pickong, as they say. In the morning before break- 
 fast we boath walked on the Peer ; master in a blue mareen 
 jackit, and me in a slap-up new livry ; both provided with long 
 sliding opra-glasses, called as I said (I don't know Y, but I 
 suppose it's a scientafick term) tallow-scoops. With these we 
 igsamined, very attentively, the otion, the sea-weed, the peb- 
 bles, the dead cats, the fishwimmin, and the waives (like little 
 children playing at leap-frog), which came tumbling over 1 an- 
 other on to the shoar. It seemed to me as if they were scram- 
 bling to get there, as well they might, being sick of the sea, 
 and anxious for the blessid, peaceable terry firmy. 
 
 After brexfast, down we went again (that is, master on his 
 beat, and me on mine, — for my place in this foring town was a 
 complete shiny cure), and putting our tally-scoops again in our 
 eyes, we egsamined a little more the otion, pebbils, dead cats, 
 and so on ; and this lasted till dinner, and dinner till bed-time, 
 and bed-time lasted till nex day, when came brexfast, and din- 
 ner, and tally-scooping, as before. This is the way with all 
 people of this town, of which, as I've heard say, there is ten 
 thousand happy English, who lead this plesnt life from year's 
 end to year's end. 
 
 Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentle- 
 men, a little dancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowy- 
 gers. In none of these amusements did we partake. We were 
 a little too good to play crown pints at cards, and never get 
 paid when we won ; or to go dangling after the portionless 
 gals, or amuse ourselves with slops and penny-wist along with 
 the old ladies. No, no ; my master was a man of fortn now, and 
 behaved himself as sich. If ever he condysended to go into 
 the public room of the Hotel de Bang — the French (doubtless 
 for reasons best known to themselves) call this a sallymanjy — 
 he swoar more and lowder than any one there ; he abyoused 
 the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With his glas in his i, he 
 staired at everybody. He took always the place before the 
 fire. He talked about " my carridge," "my currier," ''my ser- 
 vant ; " and he did wright. I've always found through life, that 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 if you wish to be respected by English people, you must be in- 
 salent to them, especially if you are a sprig of .nobiliaty. We 
 like being insulted by noblemen, — it shows they're familiar with 
 us. Law bless us ! I've known many and many a genlmn 
 about town who'd rather be kicked by a lord than not be no- 
 ticed by him ; they've even had an aw of me, because I was a 
 ♦ lord's footman. While my master was hectoring in the parlor, 
 at Balong, pretious airs I gave myself in the kitching, I can tell 
 you ; and the consequints was, that we were better served, and 
 moar liked, than many pipple with twice our merit. 
 
 Deuceace had some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep 
 him so long at Balong ; and it clearly was his wish to act the 
 man of fortune there for a little time before he tried the char- 
 acter of Paris. He purchased a carridge, he hired a currier, 
 he rigged me in a fine new livry blazin with lace, and he past 
 through the Balong bank a thousand pounds of the money he 
 had won from Dawkins, to his credit at a Paris house ; showing 
 the Balong bankers at the same time, that he'd plenty moar in 
 his potfolie. This was killin two birds with one stone ; the 
 bankers' clerks spread the nuse over the town, and in a day 
 after master had paid the money every old dowyger in Balong 
 had looked out the Crabs' family podigree in the Peeridge, and 
 was quite intimate with the Deuceace name and estates. If 
 Sattn himself were a lord, I do beleave there's many vurtuous 
 English mothers would be glad to have him for a son-in-law. 
 
 Now, though my master had thought fitt to leave town with- 
 out excommunicating with his father on the subject of his 
 intended continental tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong 
 he roat my Lord Crabbs a letter, of which I happen to have a 
 copy. It ran thus : — 
 
 Boulogne, Jamiary 25. 
 " My dear Father, — I have long, in the course of my legal studies, found the neces- 
 sity of u knowledge of French, in which language all the early history of our profession is 
 written, and have determined to take a little relaxation from chamber reading, which has 
 seriously injured my health. If my modest finances can bear a two months' journey, and 
 a residence at Paris, I propose to remain there that period. 
 
 " Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction to Lord Bobtail, our 
 ambassador? My name, and your old friendship with him, I know would secure me a re- 
 ception at his house ; but a pressing letter from yourself would at once be more courteous, 
 and more effectual. 
 
 " May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary? I am not an expensive man, my 
 dear father, as you know ; but we are no chameleons, and fifty pounds (with my little earn- 
 ings in my profession) would vastly add to the agremens of my continental excursion. 
 
 " Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah! how I wish the hard portion of 
 a younger son had not been mine, and that 'I could live without the dire necessity for labor, 
 happy among the rural scenes of my childhood, and in the society of my dear sisters and 
 you ! Heaven bless you, dearest father, and all those beloved ones now dwelling under 
 the dear old roof at Sizes. 
 
 " Ever your affectionate son, 
 
 " Algernon. 
 
 ' The Right Hon. the Earl of Crabs , &*c. 
 " Sizes Court, Butks." 
 
FORING PARTS. 
 
 443 
 
 To this affeckshnat letter; his lordship replied, by return of 
 poast, as folios : — 
 
 " My dear Algernon, — Your letter came safe to hand, and I enclose you the letter 
 for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind man, and has one of the best cooks in 
 Europe. 
 
 " We were all charmed with your warm remembrance of us, not having seen you for 
 seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the family affection which, in spite of time and 
 absence, still clings so fondly to home. It is a sad, selfish world, and very few who have 
 entered it can afford to keep those fresh feelings which you have, my dear son. 
 
 " May you long retain them, is a fond father's earnest prayer. Be sure, dear Algernon, 
 that they will be through life your greatest comfort, as well as your best wordly ally ; con- 
 soling you in misfortune, cheering you in depression, aiding and inspiring you to exertion 
 and success. 
 
 " I am sorry, truly sorry, that my account at Coutts' is so low, just now, as to render a 
 payment of your allowance for the present impossible. I see by my book that I owe you 
 now nine quarters, or 450/. Depend on it, my dear boy, that they shall be faithfully paid 
 over to you on the first opportunity. 
 
 " By the way, I have enclosed some extracts from the newspapers, which may interest 
 you : and have received a very strange letter from a Mr. Blewitt, about a play transaction, 
 which, I suppose, is the case alluded to in these prints. He says you won 4700/. from one 
 Dawkins : that the lad paid it ; that he, Blewitt, was to go what he calls ' snacks* in the 
 winning ; but that you refused to share the booty. How can you, my dear boy, quarrel 
 with these vulgar people, or lay yourself in any way open to their attacks? I have played 
 myself a good deal, and there is no man living who can accuse me of a doubtful act. You 
 should either have shot this Blewitt or paid him. Now, as the matter stands, it is too late 
 to do the former ; and, perhaps, it would be Quixotic to perform the latter. My dearest 
 boy ! recollect through life that you never can afford to be dishonest with a rogue. Four 
 thousand seven hundred pounds was a great coup, to be sure. 
 
 H As you are now in such high feather, can you, dearest Algernon ! lend me five hun- 
 dred pounds ? Upon my soul and honor, I will repay you. Your brothers and sisters send 
 you their love. I need not add, that you have always the blessings of your affectionate 
 father, 
 
 "Crabs." 
 
 " P. S. — Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for a thousand." 
 
 JA, ^L. ^L. 
 
 "7V* "TV* "7\" TV *7v 
 
 I needn't say that this did not quite enter into Deuceace's 
 eyedears. Lend his father 500 pound, indeed ! He'd as soon 
 have lent him a box on the year ! In the fust place, he hadn 
 seen old Crabs for seven years, as that nobleman remarked in his 
 epistol * in the secknd he hated him, and they hated each other ; 
 and nex, if master had loved his father ever so much, he loved 
 somebody else better — his father's son, namely : and sooner 
 than deprive that exlent young man of a penny, he'd have sean 
 all the fathers in the world hangin at Newgat, and all the 
 " beloved ones," as he called his sisters, the Lady Deuceacis- 
 ses, so many convix at Bottomy Bay. 
 
 The newspaper parrografs showed that, however secret we 
 wished to keep the play transaction, the public knew it now 
 full well. Blewitt, as I found after, was the author of the libels 
 which appeared right and left : 
 
 " Gambling in High Life : — the Honorable Mr. De — c — ce again ! — This celebrated 
 whist-player has turned his accomplishments to some profit. On Friday, the 16th January, 
 he won five thousand pounds from a very young gentleman, Th — m — s Sm — th D — wk--ns, 
 Esq., and lost two thousand five hundred to R. Bl — w — tt, Esq.. of the T— mple. Mi. D. 
 very honorably paid the sum lost by him to the honorable whist-player, but we have nol 
 h.-ar.i that before his sudden trip to Paris, Mr. D — uc — ce paid his losings to Mr. 
 Bl— w— tt.-' 
 
444 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 Nex came a " Notice to Corrysponclents : " 
 
 ** Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the notorious Deuceace ? Wa 
 answer, We do ; and, in our very next Number, propose to make some of them public." 
 
 They didn't appear, however ; but, on the contry, the very 
 same newspeper, which had been before so abusiff of Deuceace, 
 was now loud in his praise. It said : 
 
 " A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last week, most unjustly 
 assailing the character of a gentleman of high birth and talents, the son of the exemplary 
 E — rl of Cr — bs. We repel, with scorn and indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the 
 malignant slanderer who vilified Mr. De — ce— ce, and beg to offer that gentleman the 
 only reparation in our power for having thus tampered with his unsullied name. We dis- 
 believe the rujft.au and his story, and most sincerely regret that such a tale, or such a 
 •writer, should ever have been brought forward to the readers of this paper." 
 
 This was satisfactory, and no mistake : and much pleased 
 we were at the denial of this conshentious editor. So much 
 pleased that master sent him a ten-pound noat, and his com- 
 plymints. He'd sent another to the same address, before this 
 parrowgraff was printed ; why, I can't think : for I woodn t 
 suppose anything musnary in a littery man. 
 
 Well, after this bisniss was concluded, the currier hired, the 
 carridge smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we 
 bade ojew to Bulong in the grandest state posbill. What 
 a figure we cut ! and, my i, w r hat a figger the postilion cut ! A 
 cock-hat, a jackit made out of a cow's skin (it was in cold 
 weather), a pig-tale about 3 fit in length, and a pair of boots ! 
 Oh, sich a pare ! A bishop might almost have preached out of 
 <.ne, or a modrat-sized famly slep in it. Me and Mr. Schwig- 
 shhnaps, the currier, sate behind in the rumbill ; master aloan 
 in the inside, as grand as a Turk, and rapt up in his fine 
 fir-cloak. Off w r e sett, bowing gracefly to the crowd ; the 
 harniss-bells jinglm, the great white hosses snortin, kickin, and 
 squeelin, and the postilium cracking his whip, as loud as if he d 
 been drivin her majesty the quean. 
 
 ^ *^ ■¥$ 
 
 Well, I sha'n't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral 
 sitties, willitches, and metrappolishes ; sleeping the fust night 
 at Amiens, which, as everyboddy knows, is famous ever since 
 the year 1802 for what's called the Pease of Amiens. We had 
 some, very good, done with sugar and brown sos, in the Amiens^ 
 way. But after all the boasting about them, I think I like our 
 marrowphats better. 
 
 Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent happened 
 here concarning them. Master, whp was brexfasting before 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE A T PARIS. 445 
 
 going away, told me to go and get him his fur travling-shoes. 
 I went and toald the waiter of the inn, who stared r grinned 
 (as these chaps always do), said "Bong" (which means, very 
 well), and presently came back. 
 
 I'm blest if he didn't bring master a plate of cabbitch / Would 
 you bleave it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they say 
 there's schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses 
 are so extonishingly ignorant as to call a ca'bbidgp a shoo ! 
 Never, never let it be said, after this, that these benighted, 
 souperstitious, misrabble savidges, are equill, in any respex, to 
 the great British people. The moor I travvle, the moor I see 
 of the world, and other natiums, I am proud of my own, and 
 despise and deplore the retchid ignorance of the rest of 
 Yourup. 
 
 -Afc 1 .AT. ^VA. ^ 
 
 "/V* "VV "TV "TV */V 
 
 My remarks on Parris you shall have by an early oppor- 
 tunity. Me and Deuceace played some curious pranx there, I 
 can tell you. 
 
 MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 
 
 Chap. I. — The Two Bundles of Hay. 
 
 Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K.C.B., was 
 about seventy-five years old when he left this life, and the East 
 Ingine army, of which he was a distinguished ornyment. Sir 
 George's first appearance in Injar was in the character of a 
 cabbingboy to a vessel ; from which he rose to be clerk to the 
 owners at Calcutta, from which he became all of a sudden a 
 capting in the Company's service ; and so rose and rose, until 
 he rose to be a leftenant-general, when he stopped rising alto- 
 gether — hopping the twig of this life, as drummers, generals, 
 dustmen, and emperors must do. 
 
 Sir George did not leave any mal hair to perpetuate the 
 name of Griffin. A widow of about twenty-seven, and a 
 daughter avaritching twenty-three, was left behind to deploar 
 his loss, and share his proppaty. On bid Sir George's deth, 
 his interesting widdo and orfan, who had both been with him in 
 Injer, returned home — tried London for a few months did not 
 
 29 
 
446 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 like it, and resolved on a trip to Paris • where very small Lon- 
 don people become very great ones, if they've money, as these 
 Griffinses had. The intelligent reader need not be told that 
 Miss Griffin was not the daughter of Lady Griffin ; for though 
 marritches are made tolrabbly early in Injer, people are not 
 quite so precoashoos as all that : the fact is, Lady G. was Sir 
 George's second wife. I need scarcely add, that Miss Matilda 
 Griffin wos the offspring of his fust marritch. 
 
 Miss Leonora Kicksey, a ansum, lively Islington gal, taken 
 out to Calcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably 
 disposed of by her uncle, Captain Kicksey, was one-and-twenty 
 when she married Sir George at seventy-one \ and the 13 Miss 
 Kickseys, nine of whom kep a school at Islington (the other 4 
 being married variously in the city), were hot a little envius of 
 my lady's luck, and not a little proud of their relationship to 
 her. One of 'em, Miss Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, and by no 
 means the least ugly of the sett, was staying with her ladyship, 
 and gev me all the partecklars. Of the rest of the famly, being 
 of a lo sort, I in course no nothink ; my acquaintance, thank 
 my stars, don't lie among them, or the likes of them. 
 
 Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more 
 fortnat sister, in the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar 
 thing ! I'd a soon be a gaily slave, as lead the life she did ! 
 Everybody in the house despised her ; her ladyship insulted 
 her ; the very kitchen gals scorned and flouted her. She roat 
 the notes, she kep the bills, she made the tea, she whipped the 
 chocklate, she cleaned the canary birds, and gev out the linning 
 for the wash. She was my lady's walking pocket, or rettycule ; 
 and fetched and carried her handkercher, or her smell-bottle, 
 like a well-bred spaniel. All night, at her ladyship's swarries, 
 she thumped kidrills (nobody ever thought of asking her to 
 dance !) ; when Miss Griffing sung, she played the piano, and 
 was scolded because the singer was out of tune; abommanating 
 dogs, she never drove out without her ladyship's puddle in her 
 lap ; and, reglarly unwell in a carriage, she never got anything 
 but the back seat. Poar Jemima ! I can see her now in my 
 lady's sek7id-best old clothes (the ladies'-maids always got the 
 prime leavings) : a liloc sattn gown, crumpled, blotched, and 
 greasy ; a pair of white sattn shoes, of the color of Inger 
 rubber ; a faded yellow velvet hat, with a wreath of hartifishl 
 flowers run to seed, and a bird of Parrowdice perched on the 
 top of it, melumcolly and moulting, with only a couple of 
 feathers left in his unfortunate tail. 
 
 Besides this ornyment to their saloon, Lady and Miss 
 
LORD CRABS BESTOWS ON THE LADIES HIS PARTING BENEDICTION. 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 447 
 
 Griffin kept a number of other servants in the kitchen ; 2 ladies'- 
 maids ; 2 footmin, six feet high each, crimson coats, goold 
 knots, and white cassymear pantyloons ; a coachmin to match ; 
 a page : and a Shassure, a kind of servant only known among 
 forriners, and who looks more like 1 a major-general than any 
 other mortial, wearing a cock-hat, a unicorn covered with silver 
 lace, mustashos, eplets, and a sword by his side. All these to 
 wait upon two ladies ; not counting a host of the fair sex, such 
 as cooks, scullion, housekeepers, and so forth. 
 
 My Lady Griffin's lodging was at forty pound a week, in a 
 grand sweet of rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, 
 having thus described their house, and their servants' hall, I 
 may give a few words of description concerning the ladies 
 themselves. 
 
 In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each other. My 
 lady was twenty-seven — a widdo of two years— fat, fair, and 
 rosy. A slow, quiet, cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired 
 gals generally are, it seemed difficult to rouse her either into 
 likes or dislikes; to the former, at least. She never loved any- 
 body but one, and that was herself. She hated, in her calm, 
 quiet way, almost every one else who came near her — every 
 one, from her neighbor the duke, who had slighted her at din- 
 ner, down to John the footman, who had torn a hole in her 
 train. I think this woman's heart was like one of them litho- 
 graffic stones, you can't rub out anytJwig when once it's drawn 
 -or wrote on it ; nor could you out of her ladyship's stone — 
 heart, I mean — in the shape of an affront, a slight, or real or 
 phansied injury. She boar an exlent, irreprotchable character, 
 against which the tongue of scandal never wagged. She was 
 allowed to be the best wife posbill — and so she was ; but she 
 killed her old husband in two years, as dead as ever Mr. 
 Thurtell killed Mr. William Weare. She never got into a 
 passion, not she — she never said a rude word ; but she'd a 
 genius — a genius which many women have — of making a hell of 
 a house, and tort'ring the poor creatures of her family, until 
 thev were wellnigh drove mad. 
 
 Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as 
 amiable as her mother-in-law. She was crooked, and squinted ; 
 my lady, to do her justice, was straight, and looked the same 
 way with her i's. She was dark, and my lady was fair — senti- 
 mental, as her ladyship was cold. My lady was never in a 
 passion — Miss Matilda always ; and awfille were the scenes 
 which used to pass between these women, and the wickid, 
 wickid quarls which took place. Why did they live together ? 
 
4 4 8 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 There was the mistry. Not related, and hating each other like 
 pison, it would surely have been easier to remain seprat, and 
 so have detested each other at a distans. 
 
 As for the fortune which old Sir George had left, that, it 
 was clear, was very considrabble — 300 thousand lb. at the least, 
 as I have heard say. But nobody knew how it was disposed of. 
 Some said that her ladyship was sole mistriss of it, others that it 
 was divided, others that she had only a life inkum, and that the 
 money was all to go (as was natral) to Miss Matilda. These 
 are subjix which are not praps very interesting to the British 
 public, but were mighty important to my master, the Honrable 
 Algernon Percy Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-law, etsettler, 
 etsettler. 
 
 For I've forgot to inform you that my master was very in- 
 timat in this house • and that we were now comfortably settled 
 at the Hotel Mirabew (pronounced Marobo in French), in the 
 Revv delly Pay, at Paris. We had our cab, and two riding- 
 horses ; our banker's book, and a thousand pound for a balantz 
 at Lafitt's ; our club at the corner of the Rew Gramong ; our 
 share in a box at the oppras ; our apartments, spacious and 
 elygant ; our swarries at court ; our dinners at his excellency 
 Lord Bobtail's and elsewhere. Thanks to poar Dawkins's five 
 thousand pound; we were as complete gentlemen as any in 
 Paris. 
 
 Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaing himself 
 at the head of a smart sum of money, and in a country where 
 his debts could not bother him, determined to give up for the 
 present everythink like gambling — at least, high play ; as for 
 losing or winning a ralow of Napoleums at whist or ecarty, it 
 did not matter: it looks like money to do such things, and 
 gives a kind of respectabilaty. " But as for play, he wouldn't 
 — oh no ! not for worlds ! — do such a thing." He had played, 
 like other young men of fashn, and won and lost [old fox ! he 
 didn't say he had paid] ; but he had given up the amusement, 
 and was now determined, he said, to live on his inkum. The 
 fact is, my master was doing his very best to act the re- 
 spectable man : and a very good game it is, too ; but it requires 
 a precious great roag to play it. 
 
 He made his appearans reglar at church — me carrying a 
 handsome large black marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the 
 psalms and lessons marked out with red ribbings ; and you'd 
 have thought, as I graivly laid the volloms down before him, and 
 as he berried his head in his nicely brushed hat, before ser- 
 vice began, that such a pious, proper, morl, young nobleman 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 449 
 
 was not to be found in the whole of the peeridge. It was a 
 comfort to look at him. Efry old tabby and dowyger at my 
 Lord Bobtail's turned up the wights of their i's when they spoke 
 of him, and vowed they had never seen such a dear, daliteful, 
 exlent young man. What a good son he must be, they said ; 
 and oh, what a good son-in-law ! He had the pick of all the 
 English gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months. But, 
 unfortunately, most of them were poar ; and love and a cottidge 
 was not quite in master's way of thinking. 
 
 Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Miss G. made 
 their appearants at Parris, and master, who was up to snough, 
 very soon changed his noat. He sate near them at chappie, 
 and sung hims with my lady : he danced with 'em at the em- 
 bassy balls ; he road with them in the Boy de Balong and the 
 Shandeleasies (which is the French High Park) ; he roat potry 
 in Miss Griffin's halbim, and sang jewets along with her and 
 Lady Griffin ; he brought sweat meats for the puddle-dog ; he 
 gave money to the footmin, kisses and gloves to the sniggering 
 ladies'-maids ; he was sivvle even to poar Miss Kicksey ; there 
 wasn't a single soal at' the Griffinses that didn't adoar this good 
 young man. 
 
 The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each 
 other now wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy be- 
 tween them : miss jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty ; madam 
 of miss's espree : miss taunting my lady about the school at 
 Islington, and my lady snearing at miss for her squint and her 
 crookid back. And now came a stronger caws. They both 
 fell in love with Mr. Deuceace — my lady, that is to say, as 
 much as she could, with her cold selfish temper. She liked 
 Deuceace, who amused her and made her laff. She liked his 
 manners, his riding, and his good loox ; and being a pervinew 
 herself had a dubble respect for real aristocratick flesh and 
 blood. Miss's love, on the contry, was all flams and fury. 
 She'd always been at this work from the time she had been at 
 school, where she very nigh run away with a Frentch master ; 
 next with a footman (which I may say, in confidence, is by no 
 means unnatral or unusyouall, as I could show if I liked) ; and 
 so had been going on sins fifteen. She reglarly flung herself 
 at Deuceace's head — such sighing, crying, and ogling, I never 
 see. Often was I ready to bust out laffin, as I brought master 
 skoars of rose-colored billydoos, folded up like cock-hats, and 
 smellin like barber's shops, which this very tender young lady 
 used to address to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill 
 and no mistake, he was a gentlemin, and a man of good bread- 
 
45 o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 ing ; and miss came a little too stro?ig (pardon the wulgarity of 
 the xpression) with her hardor and attachmint, for one of his 
 taste. Besides, she had a crookid spine, and a squint ; so that 
 (supposing their fortns tolrabbly equal) Deuceace reely pre- 
 ferred the mother-in-law. 
 
 Now, then, it was his bisniss to find out which had the most 
 money. With an English famly this would have been easy : a 
 look at a will at Doctor Comraons'es would settle the matter 
 at once. But this India naybob's will was at Calcutty, or some 
 outlandish place ; and there was no getting sight of a coppy of 
 it. I will do Mr. Algernon Deuceace the justass to say, that 
 he was so little musnary in his love for Lady Griffin, that he 
 would have married her gladly, even if she had ten thousand 
 pounds less than Miss Matilda. In the meantime, his plan was 
 to keep 'em both in play, until he could strike the best fish of 
 the two — not a difficult matter for a man of his genus : besides, 
 Miss was hooked for certain. 
 
 Chap. II. — " Honor thy Father." 
 
 I said that my master was adoared by every person in my 
 Lady Griffin's establishmint. I should have said by every 
 person excep one, — a young French genlmn, that is, who, before 
 our appearants, had been mighty partiklar with my lady, ocku- 
 pying by her side exackly the same pasition which the Honrable 
 Mr. Deuceace now held. It was bewtiffie and headifying to 
 see how coolly that young nobleman kicked the poar Shevalliay 
 de L'Orge out of his shoes, and how gracefully he himself stept 
 into 'em. Munseer de L'Orge was a smart young French 
 jentleman, of about my master's age and good looks, but not 
 possest of half my master's impidince. Not that that quallaty 
 is uncommon in France • but few, very few, had it to such a 
 degree as my exlent employer, Mr. Deuceace. Besides De 
 L'Orge was reglarly and reely in love with Lady Griffin, and 
 master only pretending : he had, of coars, an advantitch, which 
 the poor Frentchman never could git. He was all smiles and 
 gaty, while Delorge was ockward and melumcolly. My mas- 
 ter had said twenty pretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the 
 shevalier had finished smoothing his hat, staring at her, and 
 sighing fit to bust his weskir. O luv, luv ! This isn't the way 
 to win a woman, or my name's not Fitzroy Yellowplush ! My- 
 self, when I begun my carear among the fair six, I was always 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 sighing and moping, like this poar Frenchman. What was the 
 consquints ? The foar fust women I adoared lafft at me, and 
 left me for something more lively. With the rest I have edopt- 
 ed a different game, and with tolerable suxess, I can tell you. 
 Eut this is eggatism, which I aboar. 
 
 Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdi- 
 nand Hyppolite Xavier Stanislas, Shevalier de L'Orge, was 
 reglar cut out by Munseer Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire. 
 Poar Ferdinand did not leave the house — he hadn't the heart 
 to do that — nor had my lady the desire to dismiss him. He 
 was usefle in a thousand different ways, getting oppra-boxes, 
 and invitations to French swarries, bying gloves, and O de 
 Colong, writing French noats, and such like. Always let me 
 recommend an English famly, going to Paris, to have at least 
 one young man of the sort about them. Never mind how old 
 your ladyship is, he will make love to you ; never mind what 
 errints you send him upon, he'll trot off and do them. Besides, 
 he's always quite and well-dresst, and never drinx moar than 
 a pint of wine at dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to consider. 
 Such a conveniants of a man was Munseer de L'Orge — the 
 greatest use and comfort to my lady, posbill ; if it was but to 
 laff at his bad pronunciatium of English, it was somethink 
 amusink ; the fun was to pit him against poar Miss Kicksey, 
 she speakin French, and he our naytif British tong. 
 
 My master, to do him justace, was perfickly sivvle to this 
 poar young Frenchman ; and having kicked him out of the place 
 which he occupied, sertingly treated his fallen anymy with 
 every respect and consideration. Poor modist down-hearted 
 little Ferdinand adoared my lady as a goddice ! and so he was 
 very polite, likewise, to my master — never venturing once to be 
 jellows of him, or to question my Lady Griffin's right to change 
 her lover, if she choase to do so. 
 
 Thus, then, matters stood ; master had two strinx to his bo, 
 and might take either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred : 
 com bong Iwee somb/ay, as the Frentch say. His only pint was 
 to discover how the money was disposed off, which evidently be- 
 longed to one or other, or boath. At any rate he was sure of 
 one ; as sure as any mortal man can be in this sublimary spear, 
 where nothink is suttin except unsertnty. 
 
 Jfc -it. At? <Sfr 
 
 *7v" TV TV TV TV" 
 
 A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a 
 good deal changed my master's calkylations. 
 
 One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, 
 after suppink of white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR, C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 glassy (which means, eyced), at their house in the Plas 
 Vandom, me and master droav hoam in the cab, as happy as 
 possbill. 
 
 " Chawls youd — d scoundrel," says he to me (for he was in 
 an exlent humer), "when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis." 
 
 This he might do, to be sure, without injaring himself, seing 
 that he had as yet never paid me any. But, what then ? Law 
 bless us ? things would be at a pretty pass if we suvvants only 
 lived on our wagis ; our puckwisits is the thing, and no mistake. 
 
 I ixprest my gratitude as best I could ; swoar that it wasn't 
 for wagis I served him — tfiat I would as leaf weight upon him 
 for nothink ; and that never, never, so long as I livd, would I, 
 of my own accord, part from such an exlent master. By the 
 time these two spitches had been made — my spitch and his 
 — we arrived at the " Hotel Mirabeu ; " which, as everybody 
 knows, ain't very distant from the Plas Vandome. Up we 
 marched to our apartmince, me carrying the light and the cloax, 
 master hummink a hair out of the oppra, as merry as a lark. 
 
 I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already 
 in the room ; an empty shampang bottle roalin on the floor, an- 
 other on the table ; near which the sofy was drawn, and on it 
 lay a stout old genlmn, smoaking seagars as if he'd bean in 
 an inn tap-room. 
 
 Deuceace (who abommanates seagars, as I've already shown) 
 bust into a furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could 
 hardly see for the smoak ; and, with a number of oaves quite 
 unnecessary to repeat, asked him what bisniss he'd there. 
 
 The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his segar, began 
 a ror of laffin, and said, " What ! Algy my boy ! don't you know 
 me!" 
 
 The reader may praps reklect a very affecting letter which 
 was published in the last chapter of these memoars ; in which 
 the writer requested a loan of five hundred pound from Mr. 
 Algernon Deuceace, and which boar the respected signatur of 
 the Earl of Crabs, Mr. Deuceace's own father. It was that dis- 
 tinguished arastycrat who was now smokin and laffin in our 
 room. 
 
 My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. 
 A stowt, burly, red-faced, bald-headed nobleman, whose nose 
 seemed blushing at what his mouth was continually swallowing; 
 whose hand, praps, trembled a little ; and whose thy and legg 
 was not quite so full or as steddy as they had been in former days. 
 But he was a respecktabble, fine-looking, old nobleman ; and 
 though it must be confest y 2 drunk when we fust made our 
 
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS, 
 
 453 
 
 appearance in the salong, yet by no means moor so than a reel 
 noblemin ought to be. 
 
 "What, Algy my boy ! " shouts out his lordship, advancing 
 and seasing master by the hand, f* doan't you know your own 
 father?" 
 
 Master seemed anythink but overhappy. " My lord/' says 
 he, looking very pale, and speakin rayther slow, " I didn't — 1 
 confess — the unexpected pleasure — of seeing you in Paris. 
 The fact is, sir," said he, recovering himself a little ; " the fact 
 is, there was such a confounded smoke of tobacco in the room, 
 that I really could not see who the stranger was who had paid 
 me such an unexpected visit." 
 
 " A bad habit, Algernon • a bad habit," said my lord, light- 
 ing another seagar : " a disgusting and filthy practice, which 
 you, my dear child, will do well to avoid. It is at best, dear 
 Algernon, but a nasty, idle pastime, unfitting a man as well for 
 mental exertion as for respectable society • sacrificing, at once, 
 the vigor of the intellect and the graces of the person. By the bye, 
 what infernal bad tobacco they have, too, in this hotel. Could 
 not you send your servant to get me a few seagars at the Cafe 
 de Paris ? Give him a five-franc piece, and let him go at once, 
 •that's a good fellow." 
 
 Here his lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of 
 shampang. Very sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent 
 me on the errint. 
 
 Knowing the Cafe de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't 
 say a word, but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room ; 
 where, as it happened by a singler coinstdints, I could hear 
 every word of the conversation between this exlent pair of re- 
 latifs. 
 
 " Help yourself, and get another bottle," says my lord, after 
 a solium paws. My poor master, the king of all other compnies 
 in which he moved, seemed here but to play secknd fiddill, 
 and went to the cubbard, from which his father had already 
 igstracted two bottils of his prime Sillary. 
 
 He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the win- 
 dows, stirred the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, 
 and suttnly seamed as uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it 
 was of no use • the old one would not budg. " Help yourself," 
 says he again, "and pass me the bottil." 
 
 "You are very good, father," says master; "but really, I 
 neither drink nor smoke." 
 
 " Right, my boy : quite right. Talk about a good conscience 
 in this life — a good stomack is everythink. No bad nights, no 
 
454 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 headachs — eh ? Quite cool and collected for your law studies 
 in the morning ? — eh ? " And the old nobleman here grinned, 
 in a manner which would have done creddit to Mr. Grimoldi. 
 
 Master sat pale and wincing, as I've seen a pore soldier 
 under the cat. He didn't anser a word. His exlant pa went 
 on, warming as he continued to speak, and drinking a fresh 
 glas at evry full stop. 
 
 " How you must improve, with such talents and such prin- 
 ciples ! Why, Algernon, all London talks of your industry and 
 perseverance : you're not merely a philosopher, man hang it ! 
 you've got the philosopher's stone. Fine rooms, fine horses, 
 champagne, and all for 200 a year ! " 
 
 " I presume, sir," says my master, " that you mean the two 
 hundred a year which you pay me ? " 
 
 " The very sum, my boy • the very sum ! " cries my lord, 
 lafiin as if he would die. " Why, that's the wonder ! I never 
 pay the two hundred a year, and you keep all this state up up- 
 on nothing. Give me your secret, O you young Trismegistus ! 
 Tell your old father how such wonders can be worked, and I 
 will — yes, then, upon my word, I will — pay you your two hun- 
 dred a year ! " 
 
 " Enfin, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, starting up, and" 
 losing all patience, " will you have the goodness to tell me what 
 this visit means ? You leave me to starve, for all you care ; 
 and you grow mighty facetious because I earn my bread. You 
 find me in prosperity, and " 
 
 " Precisely, my boy ; precisely. Keep your temper, and 
 pass that bottle. I find you in prosperity ; and a young gentle- 
 man of your genius and acquirements asks me why I seek your 
 society ? Oh, Algernon ! Algernon ! this is not worthy of such 
 a profound philosopher. Why do I seek you ? Why, because 
 you are in prosperity, O my son! else, why the devil should I 
 bother myself about you ? Did I, your poor mother, or your 
 family, ever get from you a single affectionate feeling ? Did we, 
 or any other of your friends or intimates, ever know you to be 
 guilty of a single honest or generous action ? Did we ever pre- 
 tend any love for you, or you for us ? Algernon Deuceace, you 
 don't want a father to tell you that you are a swindler and a 
 spendthrift ! I have paid thousands for the debts of yourself 
 and your brothers • and, if you pay nobody else, I am deter- 
 mined you shall repay me. You would not do it by fair means, 
 when I wrote to you and asked you for a loan of money. I 
 knew you would not. Had I written again to warn you of my 
 coming, you would have given me the slip ; and so I came, 
 
MR, DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 455 
 
 uninvited, to force you to repay me. That's why I am here, Mr. 
 Algernon ; and so help yourself and pass the bottle." 
 
 After this speach, the old genlmn sunk down on the sofa, 
 and puffed as much smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the 
 chimley of a steam-injian. I was pleased, I confess, with the 
 sean, and liked to see this venrabble and virtuous old man a- 
 nocking his son about the hed ; just as Deuceace had done with 
 Mr. Richard Blewitt, as I've before shown. Master's face was, 
 fust, red-hot ; next, chawk-white ; and then, sky-blew. He 
 looked, for all the world, like Mr. Tippy Cooke in the tragady 
 of Frankinstang. At last, he man nidged to speak. 
 
 " My lord," says he, " I expected when I saw you that some 
 such scheme was on foot. Swindler and spendthrift as I am, at 
 least it is but a family failing ; and I am indebted for my virtues 
 to my father's precious example. Your lordship has, I perceive, 
 added drunkenness to the list of your accomplishments ; and I 
 suppose, under the influence of that gentlemanly excitement, has 
 come to make these preposterous propositions to me. When 
 you are sober, you will, perhaps, be wise enough to know, that, 
 fool as I may be, I am not such a fool as you think me ; and 
 that if I have got money, I intend to keep it — every farthing of 
 it, though you were to be ten times as drunk, and ten times as 
 threatening as you are now." 
 
 " Well, well, my boy," said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have 
 been half-asleep during his son's oratium, and received all his 
 sneers and surcasms with the most complete good-humor ; 
 " well, well, if you will resist, tant pis pour toi. I've no desire to 
 ruin you, recollect, and am not in the slightest degree angry ; 
 but I must and will have a thousand pounds. You had better 
 give me the money at once ; it will cost you more if you don't." 
 
 " Sir," says Mr. Deuceace, " I will be equally candid. I 
 would not give you a farthing to save you from " 
 
 Here I thought proper to open the doar, and, touching my 
 hat, said, " I have been to the Cafe de Paris, my lord, but the 
 house is shut." 
 
 " Bon : there's a good lad ; you may keep the five francs. 
 And now, get me a candle and show me down stairs." 
 
 But my master seized the wax taper. " Pardon me, my lord," 
 says he. " What ! a servant do it, when your son is in the room ? 
 Ah, par exemple, my dear father," said he, laughing, "you think 
 there is no politeness left among us." And he led the way 
 out. 
 
 "Good-night, my dear boy," said Lord Crabs 
 
45 6 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 "God bless you, sir," says he. " Are you wrapped warm ? 
 Mind the step ! " 
 
 And so this affeckshnate pair parted. 
 
 Chap. III. — Minewvring. 
 
 Master rose the nex morning with a dismal countinants — 
 he seamed to think that his pa's visit boded him no good. I 
 heard him muttering at his brexfast, and fumbling among his 
 hundred pound notes ; once he had laid a parsle of them aside 
 (I knew what he meant), to send 'em to his father. " But no," 
 says he at last, clutching them all up together again, and 
 throwing them into his escritaw, "what harm can he do me ? 
 If he is a knave, I know another who's full as sharp. Let's see 
 if we cannot beat him at his own weapons." With that Mr. 
 Deuceace drest himself in his best clothes, and marched of! to 
 the Plas Vandom, to pay his cort to the fair widdo and the in- 
 vesting orfn. 
 
 It was abowt ten o'clock, and he propoased to the ladies, on 
 seeing them, a number of planns for the day's rackryation. 
 Riding in the Body Balong, going to the Twillaries to see King 
 Looy Disweet (who was then the raining sufferin of the French 
 crownd) go to chappie, and, finely, a dinner at 5 o'clock at the 
 Caffy de Parry ; whents they were all to adjourn, to see a new 
 peace at the theatre of the Pot St. Martin, called Sussannar and 
 the Elders. 
 
 The gals agread to everythink, exsep the two last prepo- 
 sitiums. " We have an engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon," 
 said my lady. " Look — a very kind letter from Lady Bobtail." 
 And she handed over a pafewmd noat from that exolted lady. 
 It ran thus : — 
 
 Fbg. St. Honore, Thursday, Feb. 15, 1817. 
 "My dear Lady Griffin, — It is an age since we met. Harassing public duties oc- 
 cupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail, that we have scarce time to see our private friends: 
 among whom, I hope, my dear Lady Griffin will allow me to rank her. Will you excuse so 
 very unceremonious an invitation, and dine with us at the embassy to-day ? We shall be 
 en petite comity and shall have the pleasure of hearing, I hope, some of your charming 
 daughter's singing in the evening. I ought, perhaps, to have addressed a separate note to 
 dear Miss Griffin ; but I hope she will pardon a poor diplomate, who has so many letters to 
 write, you know. 
 
 " Farewell till seven, when I positively must see you both. Ever, dearest Lady Griffin, 
 your affectionate 
 
 " Eliza Bobtail." 
 
 Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's 
 Shassure, and sealed with his seal of arms, would affect anybody 
 in the middling ranx of life. It droav Lady Griffin mad with 
 delight; and, long before my master's arriv'le, she'd sent Mor- 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 457 
 
 timer and Fitzclarence, her two footmin, along with a polite 
 reply in the afTummatiff. 
 
 Master read the noat with no such fealinx of joy. He felt 
 that there was somethink a-going on behind the seans, and, 
 though he could not tell how, was sure that some danger was 
 near him. That old fox of a father of his had begun his 
 M'Inations pretty early ! 
 
 Deuceace handed back the letter ; sneared, and poohd, and 
 hinted that such an invitation was an insult at best (what he 
 called a pees ally) ; • and, the ladies might depend upon it, 
 was only sent because Lady Bobtail wanted to fill up two spare 
 places at her table. But Lady Griffin and Miss would not have 
 his insinwations ; they knew too fu lords ever to refuse an invi- 
 tatium from any one of them. Go they would ; and poor 
 Deuceace must dine alone. After they had been on their ricle, 
 and had had their other amusemince, master came back with 
 them, chatted, and laft ; he was mighty sarkastix with my lady; 
 tender and sentrymentle with Miss ; and left them both in high 
 sperrits to perform their twollet, before dinner. 
 
 As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servnt of 
 the house), as I came into the drawing-room to announts his 
 cab, I saw master very quietly taking his pocket-book (or pot 
 fool, as the French call it) and thrusting it under one of the 
 cushinx of the sofa. What game is this ? thinx I. 
 
 Why, this was the game. In abowt two hours, when he 
 knew the ladies were gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious 
 abowt the loss of his potfolio ; and back he goes to Lady 
 Griffinses to seek for it there. 
 
 " Pray," says he, on going in, " ask Miss Kicksey if I may 
 see her for a single moment." And down comes Miss Kicksey, 
 quite smiling, and happy to see him. 
 
 " Law, Mr. Deuceace ! " says she, trying to blush as hard 
 as ever she could, " you quite surprise me ! I don't know 
 whether I ought, really, being alone, to admit a gentleman." 
 
 " Nay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey ! for do you know, 
 I came here for a double purpose — to ask about a pocket-book 
 which I have lost, and may, perhaps, have left here ; and then, 
 to ask if you will have the great goodness to pity a solitary 
 bachelor, and give him a cup of your nice tea ? " 
 
 Nice tea ! I thot I should have split ; for I'm blest if master 
 had eaten a morsle of dinner ! 
 
 Never mind ; down to tea they sat. " Do you take cream 
 and sugar, dear sir? " says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender 
 as a tuttle-duff. 
 
4 5 8 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 " Both, dearest Miss Kicksey ! " answers master ; who 
 stowed in a power of sashong and muffinx which would have 
 done honor to a washawoman. 
 
 I sha'n't describe the conversation that took place^betwigst 
 master and this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y 
 Deuceace took the trouble to talk to her for an hour, and to 
 swallow all her tea. He wanted to find out from her all she 
 knew about the famly money matters, and settle at once which 
 of the two Griffinses he should marry. 
 
 The poar thing, of cors, was no match for such a man as 
 my master. In a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the 
 igspression, " turned her inside out." He knew everything 
 that she knew ; and that, poar creature, was very little. There 
 was nine thousand a year, she had heard say, in money, in 
 houses, in banks ] in Injar, and what not. Boath the ladies 
 signed papers for selling or buying, and the money seemed 
 equilly divided betwigst them. 
 
 Nine thousand a year ! Deuceace went away, his cheex 
 tingling, his heart beating. He, without a penny, could nex 
 morning, if he liked, be master of five thousand per hannum ! 
 
 Yes. But how ? Which had the money, the mother or the 
 daughter ? All the tea-drinking had not taught him this piece 
 of nollidge ; and Deuceace thought it a pity that he could not 
 marry both. 
 
 J£ r sSL> -U- 4fe f 4£* <• <4fe 
 
 *VV ""A* TV "TV* *7v "TV" "7v 
 
 The ladies came back at night, mightaly pleased with their 
 reception at the ambasdors ; and, stepping out of their carridge, 
 bid coachmin drive on with a gentlemin who had handed them 
 out — a stout old gentlemin, who shook hands most tenderly 
 at parting, and promised to call often upon my Lady Griffin. 
 He was so polite, that he wanted to mount the stairs With her 
 ladyship; but no, she would not suffer it. "Edward," says 
 she to the coachmin, quite loud, and phased that all the people 
 in the hotel should hear her, "you will take the carriage, and 
 drive his lordship home." Now, can you guess who his lordship 
 was ? The Right Hon. the Earl of Crabs, to be sure ; the very 
 old genlmn whom I had seen on such charming terms with his 
 son the day before. Master knew this the nex day, and began 
 to think he had been a fool to deny his pa the thousand pound. 
 
 Now, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambas- 
 dor's only came to my years some time after, I may as well 
 relate 'em here, word for word, as they was told me by the very 
 genlmn who waited behind Lord Crabseses chair. 
 
 There was only a "petty comity " at dinner, as Lady Bobtail 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 459 
 
 said ; and my Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two Grif- 
 finses, being mighty ellygant and palite to both. " Allow me," 
 says he to Lady G. (between the soop and the fish), " my dear 
 madam, to thank you — fervently thank you for your goodness 
 to my poor boy. Your ladyship is too young to experience, 
 but, I am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude 
 which must fill a fond parent's heart for kindness shown to his 
 child. Believe me," says my lord, looking her full and tenderly 
 in the face, "that the favors you have done to another have 
 been done equally to myself, and awaken in my bosom the same 
 grateful and affectionate feelings with which you have already 
 inspired my son Algernon." 
 
 Lady Griffin blusht, and droopt her head till her ringlets 
 fell into her fish-plate : and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry 
 just as she would so many musharuins. My Lord (whose 
 powers of slack-jaw was notoarious) nex addrast another spitch 
 to Miss Griffin. He said he'd heard how Deuceace was situated. 
 Miss blusht — what a happy dog he was— Miss blusht crimson, 
 and then he sighed deeply, and began eating his turbat and 
 lobster sos. Master was a good un at flumry, but, law bless 
 you ! he was no moar equill to the old man than a mole-hill is 
 to a mounting. Before the night was over, he had made as 
 much progress as another man would in a ear. One almost 
 forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wicked leering 
 i's, in his gentle insiniwating woice, his fund of annygoats, and, 
 above all, the bewtifle, morl, religious, and honrabble toan of 
 his genral conversation. Praps you will say that these ladies 
 w r ere, for such rich pipple, mightaly esaly captivated ; but reck- 
 lect, my dear sir, that they were fresh from In jar, — that they'd 
 not sean many lords, — that they adoared the peeridge, as every 
 honest woman does in England who has proper feelinx, and has 
 read the fashnabble novvles, — and that here at Paris was their 
 fust step into fashnabble sosiaty. 
 
 Well, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing " Die 
 tantie" or " Dip your chair" or some of them sellabrated 
 Italyian hairs (when she began this squall, hang me if she'd 
 ever stop), my lord gets hold of Lady Griffin again, and gradgaly 
 begins to talk to her in a very different strane. 
 
 " What a blessing it is for us all," says he, " that Algernon 
 has found a friend so respectable as your ladyship." 
 
 " Indeed, my lord ; and why ? I suppose I am not the only 
 respectable friend that Mr. Deuceace has ? " 
 
 "No, surely • not the only one he has had : his birth, and, 
 permit me to say, his relationship to myself, have procured him 
 
4 6o THE MEMOIRS OF MR, C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 many. But — " (here my lord heaved a very affecting and large 
 sigh). 
 
 " But what ? " says my lady, laffing at the igspression of his 
 dismal face. " You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost 
 them or is unworthy of them ? " 
 
 " I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is wild, 
 thoughtless, extravagant, and embarrassed : and you know a 
 man under these circumstances is not very particular as to his 
 associates." 
 
 " Embarrassed ? Good heavens ! He says he has two 
 thousand a year left him by a godmother ; and he does not 
 seem even to spend his income — a very handsome independ- 
 ence, too, for a bachelor." 
 
 My lord nodded his head sadly, and said, — " Will your lady- 
 ship give me your word of honor to be secret ? My son has 
 but a thousand a year, which I allow him, and is heavily in 
 debt. He has played, madam, I fear ; and for this reason I am 
 so glad to hear that he is in a respectable domestic circle, 
 where he may learn, in the presence of far greater and purer 
 attractions, to forget the dice-box, and the low company which 
 has been his bane." 
 
 My Lady Griffin looked very grave indeed. Was it true ? 
 Was Deuceace sincere in his professions of love, or was he only 
 a sharper wooing her for her money ? Could she doubt her 
 informer ? his own father, and, what's more, a real flesh and 
 blood pear of parlyment ? She determined she would try him. 
 Praps she did not know she had liked Deuceace so much, until 
 she kem to feel how much she should hate him if she found he'd 
 been playing her false. 
 
 The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen, 
 — my lord driving home in my lady's carridge, her ladyship and 
 Miss walking up stairs to their own apartmince. 
 
 Here, for a wonder, was poar Miss Kicksey quite happy and 
 smiling, and evidently full of a secret, — something mighty 
 pleasant, to judge from her loox. She did not long keep it. 
 As she was making tea for the ladies (for in that house they 
 took a cup regular before bed-time), " Well, my lady," says she, 
 " who do you think has been to drink tea with me ? " Poar 
 thing, a frendly face was an event in her life — a tea-party quite 
 a hera ! 
 
 " Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid," says my lady, looking 
 grave. " I wish, Miss Kicksey, you would not demean your- 
 self by mixing with my domestics. Recollect, madam, that you 
 are sister to Lady Griffin. " 
 
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 
 
 461 
 
 " No, my lady, it was not Lenoir ; it was a gentleman, and 
 a handsome gentleman, too." 
 
 " Oh, it was Monsieur de l'Orge, then," says Miss ; " he 
 promised to bring me some guitar-strings." 
 
 " No, nor yet M. de l'Orge. He came, but was not so 
 polite as to ask for me. What do you think of your own beau, 
 the Honorable Mr. Algernon Deuceace ; " and, so saying, poar 
 Kicksey clapped her hands together, and looked as joyfle as if 
 she'd come into a fortin. 
 
 " Mr. Deuceace here ; and why, pray? " says my lady, who 
 recklected all that his exlent pa had been saying to her. 
 
 " Why, in the first place, he had left his pocket-book, and 
 in the second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea ; which 
 he took, and stayed with me an hour, or moan" 
 
 " And pray, Miss Kicksey," said Miss Matilda, quite con- 
 tempshusly, " what may have been the subject of your con- 
 versation with Mr. Algernon ? Did you talk politics, or music, 
 or fine arts, or metaphysics ? " Miss M. being what was called 
 a blue (as most humpbacked women in sosiaty are), always 
 made a pint to speak on these grand subjects. 
 
 " No, indeed ; he talked of no such awful matters. If he 
 had, you know, Matilda, I should never have understood him. 
 First we talked about the weather, next about muffins and 
 crumpets. Crumpets, he said, he liked best ; and then we 
 talked " (here Miss Kicksey's voice fell) " about poor dear Sii 
 George in heaven ! what a good husband he was, and " 
 
 " What a good fortune he left, — eh, Miss Kicksey ? " says 
 my lady, with a hard, snearing voice, and a diabollicle grin. 
 
 44 Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your 
 blessed husband, and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, 
 it was quite charming to hear him, dear man ! " 
 
 " And pray, Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him ? " 
 
 " Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand 
 a year, and " 
 
 " What then ? " 
 
 " Why, nothing ; that is all I know. I am sure I wish I had 
 ninety," says poor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven. 
 
 " Ninety fiddlesticks ! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask how the 
 money was left, and to which of us ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but I could not tell him." 
 
 " I knew it ! " says my lady, slapping down her teacup, — ■ 
 " I knew it ! " 
 
 " Well ! " says Miss Matilda, " and why not, Lady Griffin ? 
 There is no reason you should break your teacup, because 
 
 30 
 
462 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 Algernon asks a harmless question. He is not mercenary } he 
 is all candor, innocence, generosity ! He is himself blessed 
 with a sufficient portion of the world's goods.to be content ; and 
 often and often has he told me he hoped the woman of his 
 choice might come to him without a penny, that he might show 
 the purity of his affection." 
 
 " I've no doubt," says my lady. " Perhaps the lady of his 
 choice is Miss Matilda Griffin ! " and she flung out of the room, 
 slamming the door, and leaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears, 
 as was her reglar custom, and pour her loves and woas into the 
 buzzom of Miss Kicksey. 
 
 Chap. IV. — " Hitting the Nale on the Hedd." 
 
 The nex morning, down came me and master to Lady 
 Griffinses, — I amusing myself with the gals in the antyroom, he 
 paying his devours to the ladies in the salong. Miss was 
 thrumming on her gitter ; my lady was before a great box of 
 papers, busy with accounts, bankers' books, lawyers' letters, 
 and what not. Law bless us ! it's a kind of bisniss I should 
 like well enuif ; especially when my hannual account was 
 seven or eight thousand on the right side, like my lady's. My 
 lady in this house kep all these matters to herself. Miss was 
 a vast deal too sentrimentle to mind business. 
 
 Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in ; she pinted 
 gracefully to a place on the sofy beside her, which Deuceace 
 took. My lady only looked up for a moment, smiled very 
 kindly, and down went her head among the papers agen, as 
 busy as a B. 
 
 " Lady Griffin has had letters from London," says Miss, 
 " from nasty lawyers and people. Come here and sit by me, 
 you naughty man you ! " 
 
 And down sat master. " Willingly," says he, " my dear 
 Miss Griffin ; why, I declare, it is quite a tete-a-tete" 
 
 " Well," says Miss (after the prillimnary flumries, in coarse), 
 "we met a friend of yours at the embassy, Mr. Deuceace." 
 
 " My father, doubtless ; he is a great friend of the ambassa- 
 dor, and surprised me myself by a visit the night before last." 
 
 " What a dear delightful old man ! how he loves you, Mr. 
 Deuceace ! " 
 
 " Oh, amazingly ! " says master, throwing his i's to heaven. 
 " He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you ! " 
 Master breathed more freely. " He is very good, my dear 
 
MR. DEUCEACE A T PARIS. 
 
 463 
 
 father; but blind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and at- 
 tached to me." 
 
 " He spoke of you being his favorite child, and regretted 
 that you were not his eldest son. ' 1 can but leave him the 
 small portion of a younger brother/ he said ; ' but never mind, 
 he has talents, a noble name, and an independence of his 
 own.' " 
 
 " An independence ? yes, oh yes ; I am quite independent of 
 my father." 
 
 " Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother ; 
 the very same you told us you know." 
 
 " Neither more nor less," says master, bobbing his head ; 
 " a sufficiency, my dear Miss Griffin, — to a man of my moderate 
 habits an ample provision." 
 
 " By the bye," cries out Lady Griffin, interrupting the con- 
 versation, " you who are talking about money matters there, I 
 wish you would come to the aid of poor me ! Come, naughty 
 boy, and help me out with this long, long sum." 
 
 Didn't he go — that's all ! My i, how his i's shone, as he 
 skipt across the room, and seated himself by my lady ! 
 
 " Look ! " said she, " my agents write me over that they 
 have received a remittance of 7,200 rupees, at 2s. gd. a rupee. 
 Do tell me what the sum is, in pounds and shillings ; " which 
 master did with great gravity. 
 
 " Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good • I dare say you 
 are right. I'm sure I can't go through the fatigue to see. And 
 now comes another question. Whose money is this, mine or 
 Matilda's ? You see it is the interest of a sum in India, which 
 we have not had occasion to touch ; and, according to the terms 
 of poor Sir George's will, I really don't know how to dispose of 
 the money except to spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with 
 it?" 
 
 " La, ma'am, I wish you would arrange the business your- 
 self." 
 
 " Well, then, Algernon, you tell me ; " and she laid her hand 
 on his, and looked him most pathetickly in the face. 
 
 " Why," says he, " I don't know how Sir George left his 
 money ; you must let me see his will, first." 
 
 "Oh, willingly." 
 
 Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the 
 cushns ; he was obliged to hold himself down. 
 
 " Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from 
 Sir George's own manuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not em- 
 ploy lawyers much, and this was written on the night before 
 
464 * THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. /. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 going into action." And she read, " * I, George Griffin/ &c, 
 &c. — you know how these things begin — 4 being now of sane 
 mind ' — um, urn, urn, — ■ leave to my friends, Thomas Abraham 
 Hicks, a colonel in the H. E. I. Company's Service, and to 
 John Monro Mackirkincroft (of the house of Huffle, Mackirkin- 
 croft, and Dobbs, at Calcutta), the whole of my property, to be 
 realized as speedily as they may (consistently with the interests 
 of the property), in trust for my wife, Leanora Emilia Griffin 
 (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only legitimate child, Matilda 
 Griffin. The interest resulting from such property to be paid 
 to them, share and share alike ; the principal to remain un- 
 touched, in the names of the said T. A. Hicks and J. M. Mac- 
 kirkincroft, until the death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Griffin, 
 when it shall be paid to my daughter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, 
 executors, or assigns/ " 
 
 " There," said my lady, " we won't read any more • all the 
 rest is stuff. But now you know the whole business, tell us 
 what is to be done with the money ? " 
 
 " Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided be- 
 tween you." 
 
 " Tant mieux, say I ; I really thought it had been all Ma- 
 tilda's." 
 
 # * * # # 
 
 There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been 
 read. Master left the desk at which he had been seated with 
 her ladyship, paced up and down the room for a while, and then 
 came round to the place where Miss Matilda was seated. At 
 last he said, in a low, trembling voice, — 
 
 " I am almost sorry, my dear Lady Griffin, that you have 
 read that will to me ; for an attachment such as mine must 
 seem, I fear, mercenary, when the object of it is so greatly favored 
 by worldly fortune. Miss Griffin — Matilda ! I know I may 
 say the word ; your dear eyes grant me the permission. I need 
 not tell you, or you, dear mother-in-law, how long, how fondly, 
 I have adored you. My tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will 
 not affect to say I have not read your heart ere this, and that I 
 have not known the preference with which you have honored 
 me. Speak it, dear girl ! from your own sweet lips : in the 
 presence of an affectionate parent, utter the sentence which is 
 to seal my happiness for life. Matilda, dearest Matilda ! say 
 oh say, that you love me ! " 
 
 Miss M. shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and 
 fell on master's neck, whispering hodibly, u I do /" 
 
 My lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 465 
 
 grinding, her i's glaring, her busm throbbing, and her face chock 
 white • for all the world like Madam Pasty, in the oppra of 
 "My dear" (when she's going no mudder her childring, you 
 recklect) ; and out she flounced from the room, without a word, 
 knocking down poar me, who happened to be very near the 
 dor, and leaving my master along with his crook-back mis- 
 tress. 
 
 I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. The 
 fact is, I got it in a ruff copy ; only on the copy it's wrote, 
 Lady Griffin, Leonora I " instead of Miss Griffin, Matilda" as in 
 the abuff, and so on. 
 
 Master had hit the right nail on the head this time he 
 thought : but his adventors an't over yet. 
 
 Chap. V. — The Griffin's Claws. 
 
 Well, master had hit the right nail on the head this time : 
 thanx to luck — the crooked one, to be sure, but then it had the 
 goold nobb, which was the part Deuceace most valued, as well 
 he should ; being a connyshure as to the relletiff valyou of 
 pretious metals, and much preferring virging goold like this to 
 poor old battered iron like my Lady Griffin. 
 
 And so, in spite of his father (at which old noblemin Mr. 
 Deuceace now snapt his fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to 
 do him Justas, had never stood much in his way), and in spite 
 of his povatty, idleness, extravagans, swindling, and debotcher- 
 ies of all kinds (which an't generally very favorable to a young 
 man who has to make his way in the world) ; in spite of all, 
 there he was, I say at the topp of the trea, the fewcher master 
 of a perfect fortun, the defianced husband of a fool of a wife. 
 What can mortial man want more ? Vishns of ambishn now 
 occupied his soal. Shooting boxes, oppra boxes, money boxes 
 always full ; hunters at Melton ; a seat in the house of Com- 
 mins : heaven knows what ! and not a poar footman, who only 
 describes what he's seen, and can't, in cors, pennytrate into the 
 idears and the busms of men. 
 
 You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty 
 thick now from the Grifhnses. Miss was always a-wnting them 
 befoar ; and now, nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, 
 and sopper, in they came, till my pantry (for master never read 
 'em, and I carried 'em out) was pufBckly intolrabble from the 
 odor of musk, ambygrease, bargymot, and other sense with 
 which they were impregnated. Here's the contense of three 
 
4 66 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 on 'em, which I've kep in my dex these twenty years as skee« 
 wriosities. Faw ! I can smel 'em at this very minit, as I am 
 copying them down. 
 
 Billy Doo. No. I. 
 
 • 14 Monday mornings 2 o'clock. 
 
 " 'Tis the witching hour of night. Luna illumines my chamber, and falis upon my sleepless 
 pillow. By her light I am inditing these words to thee, my Algernon. My brave and 
 beautiful, my soul's lord ! when shall the time come when the tedious night shall not sepa- 
 rate us, nor the blessed day ? Twelve ! one ! two! I have heard the bells chime, and the 
 quarters, and never cease to think of my husband. My adored Percy, pardon the girlish 
 confession, — I have kissed the letter at this place. Will thy lips press it too, and remain 
 for a moment on the spot which has been equally saluted by your 
 
 " Matilda ? " 
 
 This was the fust letter, and was brot to our house by one of 
 the poar footmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the morning. 
 I thot it was for life and death, and woak master at that ex- 
 traornary hour, and gave it to him. I shall never forgit him, 
 when he red it ; he cramped it up, and he cust and swoar, 
 applying to the lady who roat, the genlmn that brought it, and 
 me who introjuiced it to his notice such a collection of epitafs 
 as I seldom hered, excep at Billinxgit. The fact is thiss ; for 
 a fust letter, miss's noat was rather too strong and sentymentle. 
 But that was her way ; she was always reading melancholy 
 stoary books — " Thaduse of Wawsaw," the " Sorrows of Mac- 
 Whirter," and such like. 
 
 After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read them ; 
 but handid them over to me, to see if there was anythink in 
 them which must be answered, in order to kip up appearuntses. 
 The next letter is 
 
 No. II. 
 
 " Beloved ! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one ! Lady Griffin, since your 
 avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word to your poor Matilda ; has declared that she will 
 admit no one (heigho ! not even you, my Algernon) ; and has locked herself in her own 
 dressing-room. I do believe that she is jealous, and fancies that you were in love with 
 her ! Ha, ha ! I could have told her another tale — n'est-ce pas ? Adieu, adieu, adieu ! 
 A thousand thousand million kisses ? 
 
 " M. G." 
 
 " Monday afternoon, 2 o'clock" 
 
 There was another letter kem before bedtime ; for though 
 me and master called at the Griffinses, we wairnt aloud to enter 
 at no price. Mortimer and Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much 
 as to say we were going to be relations ; but I don't spose 
 master was very sorry when he was obleached to come back 
 without seeing the fare objict of his affeckshns. 
 
 Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game ; ditto on Wens- 
 day ; only, when we called there, who should we see but our 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 467 
 
 father, Lord Crabs, who was waiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, 
 and saying he should be back to difiner at 7, just as me and 
 master came up the stares. There was no admittns for us 
 though. " Bah ! bah ! never mind," says my lord, taking his 
 son affeckshnately by the hand. " What, two strings to your 
 bow ; ay, Algernon ? The dowager a little jealous, miss a little 
 lovesick. But my lady's fit of anger will vanish, and I promise 
 you, my boy, that you shall see your fair one to-morrow." 
 
 And so saying, my lord walked master down stares, looking 
 at him as tender and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet 
 as posbill. Master did not know what to think of it. He never 
 new what game his old father was at ; only he somehow felt 
 that he had got his head in a net, in spite of his suxess on 
 Sunday. I knew it — I knew it quite well, as soon as I saw the 
 old genlmn igsammin him, by a kind of smile which came over 
 his old face, and was somethink betwigst the angellic and the 
 direbollicle. 
 
 But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every- 
 thing was bright again. At brexfast, in comes a note with 
 inclosier, boath of witch I here copy : — 
 
 No. IX. 
 
 " Thursday morning. 
 
 " Victoria, Victoria ! Mamma has yielded at last; not her consent to our union, but 
 her consent to receive you as before ; and has promised to forget the past. Silly woman, 
 how could she ever think of you as anything but the lover of your Matilda ? I am in a 
 whirl of delicious joy and passionate excitement. I have been awake all this long night, 
 thinking of thee, my Algernon, and longing for the blissful hour of meeting. 
 "Come! 
 
 "M. G." 
 
 This is the inclosier from my lady : — 
 
 " I will not tell you that your behavior on Sunday did not deeply shock me. I had 
 been foolish enough to think of other plans, and to fancy your heart (if you had any) was 
 fixed elsewhere than on one at whose foibles you have often laughed with me, and whose 
 person at least cannot have charmed you. 
 
 " My step-daughter will not, I presume, marry without at least going through the cere- 
 mony of asking my consent ; I cannot, as yet, give it. Have 1 not reason to doubt 
 whether she will be happy in trusting herself to you ? 
 
 " But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own house all those who may be 
 agreeable to her, — certainly you, who are likely to be one day so nearly connected with her. 
 If T have honest reason to believe that your love for Miss Griffin is sincere ; if I find in a 
 few months that you yourse f are still desirous to marry her, 1 can, of course, place no further 
 obstacles in your way. 
 
 " You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot promise to receive you as I 
 did of old ; you wouid despise me if I did. m I can promise, however, to think no more of all 
 that has passed between us, and yield up my own happiness for that of the daughter of my 
 dear husband. 
 
 "L. E. G." 
 
 Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and 
 natral from a woman whom we had, to confess the truth, treated 
 most scuvvily? Master thought so, and went and made a 
 
468 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 tender, respeckful speach to Lady Griffin (a little flumry costs 
 nothink). Grave and sorrofle he kist her hand, and, speakin 
 in a very low adgitayted voice, calld Hevn to witness how he 
 deplord that his conduct should ever have given rise to such an 
 unfortnt ideer • but if he might offer her esteem, respect, the 
 warmest and tenderest admiration, he trusted she would accept 
 the same, and a deal moar flumry of the kind, with dark, solium 
 glansis of the eyes, and plenty of white pockit-hankercher. 
 
 He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool ! he was in a net 
 — sich a net as I never yet see set to ketch a roag in. 
 
 Chap. VI. — The Jewel. 
 
 The Shevalier de l'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote 
 of in my last, who had been rather shy of his visits while master 
 was coming it so very strong, now came back to his old place 
 by the side of Lady Griffin : there was no love now, though, 
 betwigst him and master, although the shevallier had got his 
 lady back agin ■ Deuceace being compleatly devoted to his 
 crookid Veanus. 
 
 The shevalier was a little, pale, moddist, ins # inifishnt crea- 
 ture ; and I shoodn't have thought, from his appearants, would 
 have the heart to do harm to a fli, much less to stand befor 
 such a tremendious tiger and fire-eater as my master. But I 
 see putty well, after a week, from his manner of going on — of 
 speakin at master, and lookin at him, and olding his lips tight 
 when Deuceace came into the room, and glaring at him with 
 his i's, that he hated the Honrabble Algernon Percy, 
 
 Shall I tell you why? Because my Lady Griffin hated him : 
 hated him wuss than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than 
 her daughter-in-law. Praps you phansy that the letter you 
 have juss red was honest ; praps you amadgin that the sean of 
 the reading of the will came on by mere chans, and in the 
 reglar cors of suckmstansies : it was all a game, I tell you : — a 
 reglar trap ; and that extrodnar clever young man, my master, 
 as neatly put his foot into it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt 
 preserve. 
 
 The shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. When Deuceace 
 went off the feald, back came De l'Orge to her feet, not a witt 
 less tender than befor. Por fellow, por fellow ! he really loved 
 this woman. He might as well have foln in love with a bore- 
 constructor ! He was so blinded and beat by the power wich 
 she had got over him, that if she told him black was white he'd 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS- 
 
 469 
 
 beleave it, or if she ordered him to commit murder, he'd do it : 
 she wanted something very like it, I c.an tell you. 
 
 I've already said how, in the fust part of their acquaintance, 
 master used -to laff at De l'Orge's bad Inglish, and funny ways. 
 The little creature had a thowsnd of these ; and being small, 
 and a Frenchman, master, in cors, looked on him with that 
 good-humored kind of contemp which a good Brittn ot always 
 to show. He rayther treated him like an intelligent munky % 
 than a man, and ordered him about as if he'd bean my lady's 
 footman. 
 
 All this munseer took in very good part, until after the quarl 
 betwigst master and Lady Griffin ; when that lady took care to 
 turn the tables. Whenever master and miss were not present 
 (as I've heard the servants say), she used to laff at shevalliay 
 for his obeajance and sivillatty to master. For her part, she 
 wondered how a man of his birth could act a servnt : how any 
 man could submit to such contemsheous behavior from another ; 
 and then she told him how Deuceace was always snearing at 
 him behind his back ; how, in fact, he ought to hate him cor- 
 jaly, and how it was suttnly time to show his sperrit. 
 
 Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, 
 and was angry or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my 
 lady liked. There got to be frequint rows betwigst him and 
 master ; sharp words flung at each other across the dinner- 
 table ; dispewts about handing ladies their smeling-botls, or 
 seeing them to their carridge ; or going in and out of a roam 
 fust, or any such nonsince. 
 
 " For hevn's sake," I heerd my lady, in the midl of one of 
 these tiffs, say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, " do, do 
 be calm, Mr. Deuceace. Monsieur de l'Orge, I beseech you to 
 forgive him. You are, both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by 
 members of this family, that for its peace as well as your own, 
 you should forbear to quarrel." 
 
 It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling 
 had begun, and it ended jest as they were seating themselves. 
 I shall never forgit poar little De l'Orge's eyes, when my lady 
 said, " both of you." He stair'd at my lady for a momint, 
 turned pail, red, look'd wild, and then, going round to master, 
 shook his hand as if he would have wrung it off. Mr. Deuce- 
 ace only bow'd and grin'd, and turned away quite stately ; 
 Miss heaved a loud O from her busm, and looked up in his 
 face with an igspreshn jest as if she could have eat him up with 
 love ; and the little shevalliay sate down to his soop-plate, and 
 wus so happy, that I'm blest if he wasn't crying ! He thought 
 
47o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 the widdow had made her declyration, and would have him ; 
 and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her for some time 
 mighty bitter and contempshus, and then fell a-talking with 
 Miss. 
 
 Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as 
 he might have done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the 
 notion of her marrying anybody else ; and so, consquintly, was 
 • in a fewry at this confision which she had made regarding her 
 parshaleaty for the French shevaleer. 
 
 And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants 
 through life, that when you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag : 
 you find him out at onst when he's in a passion, for he shows, 
 as it ware, his cloven foot the very instnt you tread on it. At 
 least, this is what young roags do ; it requires very cool blood 
 and long practis to get over this pint, and not to show your 
 pashn when you feel it and snarl when you are angry. Old 
 Crabs wouldn't do it ; being like another noblemin, of whom I 
 heard the Duke of Wellington say, while waiting behind his 
 graci's chair, that if you were kicking him from behind, no one 
 standing before him would know it, from the bewtifle smiling 
 igspreshn of his face. Young master hadn't got so far in the 
 thief's grammer, and, when he was angry, show'd it. And it's 
 also to be remarked (a very profownd observation for a oot w n, 
 but we have i's though we do wear plush britchis), it's to be re- 
 marked, I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid 
 angry than another, because honest men yield to other people, 
 roags never do ; honest men love other people, roags only them- 
 selves ; and the slightest thing which comes in the way of thir 
 beloved objects sets them fewrious. Master hadn't led a life 
 of gambling, swindling, and every kind of debotch to be good- 
 . tempered at the end of it, I prommis you. 
 
 He was in a pashun, and when he was in a pashn, a more 
 insalent, insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live. 
 
 This was the very pint to which my lady washed to bring 
 him ; for I must tell you, that though she had been trying all 
 her might to set master and the shevalliay by the years, she had 
 suxcaded only so far as to make them hate each other pro- 
 fowndly : but somehow or other the 2 cox wouldn't fight. 
 
 I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the 
 pfart of her ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the 
 quarls which daily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman 
 never seemed to come from her ; on the contry, she acted as the 
 reglar pease-maker between them, as I've just shown in the tiff 
 which took place at the door of the Sally Mangy. Besides the 2 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 471 
 
 young men, though reddy enough to snarl, were natrally un- 
 willing to cum to bloes. I'll tell you why : being friends, and 
 idle, they spent their mornins as young fashnabbles genrally do, 
 at billiads, fensing, riding, pistle- shooting, or some such im- 
 proving study. In billiads, master beat the Frenchmn hollow 
 (and had won a pretious sight of money from him : but that's 
 neither here nor there, or, as the French say, ontry -nod) ; at * 
 pistle-shooting, master could knock down eight immidges out of 
 ten, and De l'Orge seven ; and in fensing, the Frenchman 
 could pink the Honorable Algernon down evry one of his wes- 
 kit buttns. They'd each of them been out more than onst, for 
 every Frenchman will fight, and master had been obleag'd to 
 do so in the cors of his bisniss ; and knowing each other's cur- 
 ridg, as well as the fact that either could put a hundrid bolls 
 running into a hat at 30 yards, they wairn't very willing to try 
 such exparrymence upon their own hats with their own heads 
 in them. So you see they kep quiet, and only grould at each 
 other. 
 
 But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black 
 humers ; and when in this way he wouldn't stop for man or 
 devvle. I said that he walked away from the shevalliay, who 
 had given him his hand in his sudden bust of joyfle good- 
 humor ; and who, I do bleave, would have hugd a she-bear, so 
 very happy was he. Master walked away from him pale and 
 hotty, and, taking his seat at table, no moor mindid the brand- 
 ishments of Miss Griffin, but only replied to them with a pshaw, 
 or a dam at one of us servnts, or abuse of the soop, or the wine ; 
 cussing and swearing like a trooper, and not like a wel-bred 
 son of a noble British peer. 
 
 "Will your ladyship," says he, slivering off the wing of a 
 putty ally b ashy mall, " allow me to help you ? " 
 
 "I thank you! no ; but I will trouble Monsieur de l'Orge. " 
 And towards that gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and 
 fasnating smile. 
 
 " Your ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr. 
 de l'Orge's carving. You used to like mine once." 
 
 " You are very skilful ; but to-day, if you will allow me, I 
 will partake of something a little simpler." 
 
 The Frenchman helped ; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt 
 the gravy. A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's 
 chick, and myandrewd down his shert collar and virging-white 
 weskit. 
 
 " Confound you ! " says he, " M. de l'Orge, you have done 
 this on purpose." And down went his kmfe and fork, over 
 
VHE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 went his tumbler of wine, a deal of it into poar Miss Griffinses 
 lap, who looked fritened and ready to cry. 
 
 My lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was 
 the best joak in the world. De l'Orge giggled and grin'd too. 
 "Pardong," says he ; " meal pardong, mong share munseer."* 
 And he looked as if he would have done it again for a penny. 
 
 The little Frenchman was quite in extasis \ he found him- 
 self all of a suddn at the very top of the trea ; and the laff for 
 onst turned against his rivle : he actially had the ordassaty to 
 propose to my lady in English to take a glass of wine, 
 
 "Veal you," says he, in his jargin, "take a glas of Made're 
 viz me, mi ladi ? " And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly 
 hit the English manner and pronunciation. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure," says Lady G., most graciously 
 nodding at him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. 
 She'd refused master before, and this didn't increase his good- 
 humer. 
 
 Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swear- 
 ing, making himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as 
 any I ever see ; and my lady employing her time betwigst him 
 and the shevalliay, doing everythink to irritate master, and 
 flatter the Frenchmn. Desert came : and by this time, Miss 
 was stock-still with fright, the chevaleer half tipsy with pleasure 
 and gratafied vannaty, my lady puffickly raygent with smiles 
 and master bloo with rage. 
 
 " Mr. Deuceace," says my lady, In a most winning voice, 
 after a little chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar 
 and moar), " may I trouble you for a few of those grapes ? they 
 look delicious." 
 
 For answer, master seas'd hold of the grayp dish, and sent 
 it sliding down the table to De l'Orge ; upsetting, in his way, 
 fruit-plates, glasses, dickanters, and heaven knows what. 
 
 " Monsieur de l'Orge," says he, shouting out at the top of 
 his voice, "have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She 
 wanted my grapes long ago, and has found out they are sour ! " 
 
 # # * # # 
 
 There was a dead paws of a moment or so. 
 
 # # # 4 # 
 
 "Ah!" says my lady, " vous osez m'insulter, devant mes 
 gens, dans ma propre maison — c'est par trop fort, monsieur." 
 And up she got, and flung out of the room. Miss followed 
 
 * In the long dialogues, we have generally ventured to change the peculiar spelling of 
 our friend Mr. Yellowplush. 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 473 
 
 her, screeching out, " Mamma — for God's sake — Lady Griffin ! M 
 and here the door slammed on the pair. 
 
 Ker ladyship did very well to speak French. De ? Orge 
 would not have understood her else; as it was he heard quite 
 enough ■ and as the door clikt too, in the presents of me, and 
 Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence, the family footmen, he 
 walks round to my master, and hits him a slap on the face, and 
 says, " Prends 9a, menteur et lache ! " which means, " Take 
 that, you liar and coward ! " — rather strong igspreshns for one 
 genlmn to use to another. 
 
 Master staggered back and looked bewildered ; and then 
 he gave a kind of a scream, and then he made a run at the 
 Frenchman, and then me and Mortimer flung ourselves upon 
 him, w T hilst Fitzclarence embraced the shevalliay. 
 
 " A demain ! " says he, clinching his little fist, and walking 
 away not very sorry to git off. 
 
 When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master : who 
 swallowed a goblit of water, and then pawsing a little and 
 pulling out his pus, he presented to Messeers Mortimer and 
 Fitzclarence a luydor each. " I will give you five more to- 
 morrow," says he, " if you will promise to keep this secrit." 
 
 And then he walked in to the ladies. " If you knew," says 
 he, going up to Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors 
 we were all at the keyhole), " the pain I have endured in the 
 last minute, in consequence of the rudeness and insolence of 
 which I have been guilty to your ladyship, you would think my 
 own remorse was punishment sufficient, and would grant me 
 pardon." 
 
 My lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations. 
 Mr. Deuceace was her daughter's guest, and not hers ; but she 
 certainly would never demean herself by sitting again at table 
 with him. And so saying, out she boltid again. 
 
 " Oh ! Algernon ! Algernon ! " says Miss, in teers, " what 
 is this dreadful mystery — these fearful shocking quarrels ? 
 Tell me, has anything happened ? Where, where is the chev- 
 alier?" 
 
 Master smiled and said, " Be under .no alarm, my sweetest 
 Matilda. De l'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute ; 
 he was too much in love for that. He is but gone away for 
 half an hour, I believe ; and will return to coffee." 
 
 I knew what master's game was, for if Miss had got a 
 hinkling of the quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, we 
 should have had her screeming at the " Hotel Mirabeu," and 
 the juice and all to pay. He only stopt for a few minnits and 
 
474 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 cumfitted her, and then drove off to his friend, Captain Bulls- 
 eye, of the Rifles ; with whom, I spose, he talked over this 
 unplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our hotel, a note from De 
 l'Orge, saying where his secknd was to be seen. 
 
 Two mornings after there was a parrowgraf in Gallynanny's 
 Messinger, which I hear beg leaf to transcribe : — 
 
 a Fearful duel. — Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting took place, in the Bois 
 de Boulogne, between the Hon. A. P. D— ce-ce, a younger son of the Earl of Cr-bs, and 
 
 the Chevalier de l'O . The chevalier was attended by Major de M , of the Royal 
 
 Guard, and the Hon. Mr. D by Captain B-lls-ye, of the British Rifle Corps. As far 
 
 as we have been able to learnjhe particulars of this deplorable affair, the dispute originated 
 in the house of a lovely lady (one of the most brilliant ornaments of the embassy), and the 
 duel took place on the morning ensuing. 
 
 " The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished amateur swordsman 
 in Paris) waived his right of choosing the weapons, and the combat took place with pistols. 
 
 "The combatants were placed at forty paces, with direction to advance to a barrier which 
 separated them only eight paces. Each was furnished with two pistols. Monsieur de 
 
 l'O fired almost immediately, and the ball took effect in the left wrist of his antagonist, 
 
 who dropped the pistol which he held in that hand. He fired, however, directly with his 
 right, and the chevalier fell to the ground, we fear mortally wounded. A bail has entered 
 above his hip-joint, and there is very little hope that he can recover. 
 
 " We have heard that the cause of this desperate duel was a blow which the chevalier 
 ventured to give to the Hon. Mr. D. If so, there is some reason for the unusual and deter- 
 mined manner in which the duel was fought. 
 
 " Mr Deu — a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent father, the Right Hon. 
 Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on hearing of the sad news, and is now bestowing on 
 his son the most affectionate parental attention. The news only reached his lordship yes- 
 terday at noon, while at breakfast with his Excellency Lord Bobtail, our ambassador. The 
 noble earl fainted on receiving the intelligence ; but in spite of the shock to his own nerves 
 and health, persisted in passing last night by the couch of his son." 
 
 And so he did. " This is a sad business, Charles/' says my 
 lord to me, after seeing his son, and settling himself down in 
 our salong. " Have you any segars in the house ? And, hark 
 ye, send me up a bottle of wine and some luncheon. I can 
 certainly not leave the neighborhood of my dear boy." 
 
 Chap. VII. — The Consquinsies. 
 
 The shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own 
 accord, in the midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which 
 was brot on by the wound. He was kept in bed for six weeks 
 though, and did not recover for a long time after. 
 
 As for master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that 
 of his advisary. Inflammation came on too ; and, to make an 
 ugly story short, they were obliged to take off his hand at the 
 rist. 
 
 He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too 
 was well, and his wound heel'd ; but I never see a man look so 
 like a devvle as he used sometimes, when he looked down at 
 the stump ! 
 
 To be sure, in Miss Grifhnses eyes, this only indeerd him 
 
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 
 
 475 
 
 the mor. She sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling 
 him her beloved, her unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I 
 dono what. I've kep some of the noats as I tell you, and 
 curiously sentimentle they are, beating the sorrows of Mac- 
 Whirter all to nothing. 
 
 Old Crabs used to come offen, and consumed a power of 
 wine and seagars at our house. I bleave he was at Paris 
 because there was an exycution in his own house in England ; 
 and his son was a sure find (as they say) during his illness, and 
 couldn't deny himself to the old genlmn. His eveninx my lord 
 spent reglar at Lady Griffin's ; where, as roaster was ill, I didn't 
 go any more now, and where the shevalier wasn't there to 
 disturb him. 
 
 " You see how that woman hates you, Deuceace," says my 
 Lord, one day, in a fit of cander, after they had been talking 
 about Lady Griffin : " she has not do7ie with you yet, I tell you 
 fairly." 
 
 " Curse her," says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd 
 arm — " curse her ! but I will be even with her one day. I am 
 sure of Matilda : I took care to put that beyond the reach of a 
 failure. The girl must marry me, for her own sake." 
 
 " For her own sake ! O ho ! Good, good ! " My lord lifted 
 his i's, and said gravely, " I understand, my dear boy : it is an 
 excellent plan." 
 
 " Well," says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his 
 exlent old father, " as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear 
 from the fiend of a step-mother ? " 
 
 My lord only gav a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking up 
 his hat, walked off. I saw him sawnter down the Plas Van- 
 dome, and go in quite calmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses 
 hotel. Bless his old face ! such a puffickly good-natured, kind- 
 hearted, merry, selfish old scoundrel, I never shall see again. 
 
 His lordship was quite right in saying to master that " Lady 
 Griffin hadn't done with him." No moar she had. But 
 she never would have thought of the nex game she was going 
 to play, if somebody hadn't put her up to it. Who did ? If you 
 red the above passidge, and saw how a venrabble old genlmn 
 took his hat, and sauntered down the Plas Vandome (looking 
 hard and kind at all the nussary-maids — buns they call them in 
 France — in the way), I leave you to guess who was the author 
 of the nex scheam : a woman, suttnly, never would have pitcht 
 on it. 
 
 In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuce- 
 ace's adventers, and his kind behayvior to Messrs. Dawkins 
 
476 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 and Blewitt, I had the honor of laying before the public a 
 skidewl of my master's detts, in which was the following itim : 
 
 " Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s, 4963/. os. od. 
 
 The I.O.U.se were trifling, say a thowsnd pound. The bills 
 amountid to four thowsnd moar. 
 
 Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in 
 England, and a French genlmn gits them in any way, he can 
 pursew the Englishman who has drawn them, even though he 
 should be in France. Master did not know this fact — laboring 
 under a very common mistak, that, when onst out of England, 
 he might wissle at all the debts he left behind him. 
 
 My Lady Griffin sent over to her slissators in London, who 
 made arrangemints with the persons who possest the fine col- 
 lection of ortografs on stampt paper which master had left 
 behind him ; and they were glad enuff to take any oppertunity 
 of getting back their money. 
 
 One fine morning, as I was looking about in the court-yard 
 of our hotel, talking to the servant gals, as was my reglar cus- 
 tom, in order to improve myself in the French languidge, one of 
 them comes up to me and says, " Tenez, Monsieur Charles, 
 down below in the office there is a bailiff, with a couple of 
 gendarmes, who is asking for your master — a-t-il des dettes par 
 hasard?" * 
 
 I was struck all of a heap — the truth flasht on my mind's hi. 
 "Toinette," says I, for that was the gal's name — "Toinette," 
 says I, giving her a kiss, " keep them for two minnits, as you 
 valyou my affeckshn ;" and then I gave her another kiss, and 
 ran up stares to our chambers. Master had now pretty well 
 recovered of his wound, and was aloud to drive abowt : it was 
 lucky for him that he had the strength to move. " Sir, sir," 
 says I, " the bailiffs are after you, and you must run for your 
 life." 
 
 " Bailiffs ? " says he : " nonsense ! I don't, thank heaven, 
 owe a shilling to any man." 
 
 " Stuff, "sir," says I, forgetting my respeck ; " don't you owe 
 money ia England ? I tell you the bailiffs are here, and will 
 be on you in a moment." 
 
 As I spoke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the anty- 
 shamber, and there they were sure enough ! 
 
 What was to be done ? Quick as litening, I throws off my 
 livry coat, claps my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes 
 him put on my livry. Then I wraps myself up in his dressing- 
 gown, and lolling down on the sofa, bids him open the door. 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 477 
 
 There they were- — the bailiff — two jondarms with him — 
 Toinette, and an old waiter. When Toinette sees master, she 
 smiles, and says : "Dis done, Charles ! ou est done ton maitre ? 
 Chez lui, n'est-ce pas ? C'est le jeune homme a monsieur," 
 says she, curtsying to the bailiff. 
 
 The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, " Mais ce n'est 
 pas ! " when Toinette stops him, and says, " Laissez done passer 
 ces messieurs, vieux bete \ " and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms 
 taking their post in the hall. 
 
 Master throws open the salong doar very gravely, and 
 touching my hat says, " Have you any orders about the cab, 
 sir?" 
 
 "Why, no, Chawls," says I ; "I sha'n't drive out to-day." 
 
 The old bailiff grinned, for he understood English (having 
 had plenty of English customers), and says in French, as master 
 goes out, " I think, sir, you had better let your servant get a 
 coach, for I am under the painful necessity of arresting you, au 
 nom de la loi, for the sum of ninety-eight thousand seven hun- 
 dred francs, owed by you to the Sieur Jacques Francois Lebrun, 
 of Paris ; " and he pulls out a number of bills, with master's 
 acceptance on them sure enough. 
 
 "Take a chair, sir," says I ; and down he sits ; and I began 
 to chaff him, as well as I could, about the weather, my illness, 
 my sad axdent, having lost one of my hands, which was stuck 
 into my busum, and so on. 
 
 At last after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and 
 bust out in a horse laff. 
 
 The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect some- 
 thing. " Hola ! " says he ; " gendarmes ! a moi ! a moi ! Je suis 
 floue, vole," which means, in English, that he was regular sold. 
 
 The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette 
 and the waiter. Grasefly rising from my arm-chare, I took my 
 hand from my dressing-gownd, and, flinging it open, stuck up 
 on the chair one of the neatest legs ever seen. 
 
 I then pinted myjestickly — to what do you think ? — to my 
 plush tites ! those sellabrated inigspressables which have 
 rendered me famous in Yourope. 
 
 Taking the hint, the jondarmes and the servnts rord out 
 lafBng ; and so did Charles Yellowplush, Esquire, I can tell 
 you. Old Grippard the bailiff looked as if he would faint in his 
 chare. 
 
 I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel gate, and 
 knew then that my master was safe. 
 
 3 1 
 
478 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 Chap. VIII. — The End of Mr. Deuceace's History. Limbo. 
 
 My tail is droring rabidly to a close : my suvvice with Mr. 
 Deuceace didn't continyou very long after the last chapter, in 
 which I described my admiral strattyjam, and my singular self- 
 devocean. There's very few servnts, I can tell you, who'd have 
 thought of such a contrivance, and very few moar would have 
 eggsycuted it when thought of. 
 
 But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in sell- 
 ing master's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may re- 
 member I woar, and in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the 
 pockets, — -beyond this, I say, there was to poar master very 
 little advantich in what had been done. It's true he had 
 escaped. Very good. But Frans is not like Great Brittin ; a 
 man in a livry coat, with i arm, is pretty easly known, and 
 caught, too, as I can tell you. 
 
 Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, 
 moarover, if he would. What was to become, in that case, of 
 his bride — his unchbacked hairis ? He knew that young lady's 
 temprimong (as the Parishers say) too well to let her long out of 
 his site. She had nine thousand a yer. She'd been in love a 
 duzn times befor, and mite be agin. The Honrabble Algernon 
 Deuceace was a little too wide awake to trust much to the con- 
 stnsy of so very inflammable a young creacher. Heaven bless 
 us, it was a marycle she wasn't earlier married ! I do bleave 
 (from suttn seans that past betwigst us) that she'd have married 
 me, if she hadn't been sejuiced by the supearor rank and in- 
 dianuity of the genlmn in whose survace I was. 
 
 Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him. 
 How was he to manitch ? He coodn get away from his debts, 
 and he wooden quit the fare objict of his affeckshns. He was 
 aibleejd, then, as the French say, to lie perdew, — going out at 
 night, like a howl out of a hivy-bush, and returning in the day- 
 time to his roast. For its a maxum in France (and I wood it 
 were followed in Ingland), that after dark no man is lible for 
 his detts; and in any of the royal gardens — the Twillaries, the 
 Palldy Roil, or the Lucksimbug, for example — a man may wan 
 der from sunrise to evening, and hear nothing of the ojus 
 dunns : they an't admitted into these places of public enjyment 
 and rondyvoo any more than dogs ; the centuries at the garden 
 gate having orders to shuit all such. 
 
 Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation — neither 
 
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS. 
 
 479 
 
 liking to go nor to stay ! peeping out at nights to have an in- 
 terview with his miss ; ableagd to shuffle off her repeated ques- 
 tions as to the reason of all this disgeise, and to talk of his two 
 thowsnd a year jest as if he had it and didn't owe a shilling in 
 the world. 
 
 Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the 
 marritch. 
 
 He roat as many noats as she had done befor ; swoar 
 against delay and cerymony \ talked of the pleasures of Hyming, 
 the ardship that the ardor of two arts should be allowed to 
 igspire, the folly of waiting for the consent of Lady Griffin. She 
 was but a step-mother, and an unkind one. Miss was (he said) 
 a major, might marry whom she liked ; and suttnly had paid 
 Lady G. quite as much attention as she ought, by paying her 
 the compliment to ask her at all. 
 
 And so they went on. The curious thing was, that when 
 master was pressed about his cause for not coming out till night- 
 time, he was misterus ; and Miss Griffin, when asked why she 
 wooden marry, igsprest, or rather, didn't igspress, a simlar 
 secrasy. Wasn't it hard ? the cup seemed to be at the lip of 
 both of 'em, and yet somehow, they could not manitch to take 
 a drink. 
 
 But one morning, in reply to a most desprat epistol wrote 
 by my master over night, Deuceace, delighted, gits an answer 
 from his soal's beluffd, which ran thus : — 
 
 MISS GRIFFIN TO THE HON. A. P. DEUCEACE. 
 
 " Dearest, — You say you would share a cottage with me ; there is no need, luckily, for 
 that! You plead the sad sinking of your spirits at our delayed union. Beloved, do you 
 think my heart rejoices at our separation? You bid me disregard the refusal of Lady 
 Griffin, and tell me that I owe her no further duty. 
 
 *' Adored Algernon ! I can refuse you no more. I was willing not to lose a single chance 
 of reconciliation with this unnatural step-mother. Respect for the memory of my sainted 
 father bid me do all in my power to gain her consent to my union with you ; nay, shall I 
 own it ? prudence dictated the measure ; for to whom should she leave the share of money 
 accorded to her by my father's will but to my father's child. 
 
 " But there are bounds beyond which no forbenrance can go ; and, thank heaven, we 
 have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for sordid wealth : we have a competency with- 
 out her. Is it not so, dearest Algernon? 
 
 " Be it as you wish then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor Matilda has yielded to 
 you her heart long ago ; she has no longer need to keep back her name. Name the hour, 
 and I will delay no more ; but seek for refuge in your arms from the contumely and insult 
 which meet me ever here. 
 
 " Matilda. 
 
 "P.S. Oh, Algernon ! if you did but know what a noble part your dear father has 
 acted throughout, in doing his best endeavors to further our plans, and to soften Lady 
 Griffin ! It is not his fault that she is inexorable as she is. I send you a note sent by her 
 to Lord Crabs ; we will laugh at it soon, riest-ce pas ? " 
 
 II. 
 
 44 My Lord,— In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand, in favor of your son, 
 
4 8o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 Mr. Algernon Deuceace, T can only repeat what I before have been under the necessity of 
 stating to you, — that T do not believe a union with a person of Mr. Deuceace' s character 
 would conduce to my step-daughter's happiness, and therefore refttse my consent. I will 
 beg you to communicate the contents of this note to Mr. Deuceace; and implore you no 
 more to touch upon a subject which you must be aware is deeply painful to me. 
 
 " I remain your lordship's most humble servant, 
 
 " L. E. Griffin. 
 
 " The Right Hon. the Earl of Crabs:'' 
 
 " Hang her ladyship ! " says my master, " what care I for 
 it ? " As for the old lord who'd been so afishous in his kind- 
 ness and advice, master recknsiled that pretty well, with think- 
 ing that his lordship knew he was going to marry ten thousand, 
 a year, and igspected to get some share of it ; for he roat 
 - back the following letter to his father, as well as a flaming one 
 to Miss : 
 
 "Thank you, my. dear father, for your kindness in that awkward business. You know 
 how painfully I am situated just now, and can pretty well guess both the causes of my dis- 
 quiet. A marriage with my beloved Matilda will make me the happiest of men. The dear 
 girl consents, and laughs at the foolish pretensions of her mother-in-law. To tell you the truth, 
 I wonder she yielded to them so long. Carry your kindness a step further, and find for us 
 a parson, a licence, and make us two into one. We are both major, you know : so that the 
 •«remony of a guardian's consent is unnecessary. 
 
 " Your affectionate 
 
 " Algernon Deuceace. 
 
 "How I regret that difference between us some time back ! Matters are changed now, 
 and shall be more still after the marriage:'' 
 
 I knew what my master meant, — that he would give the old 
 lord the money after he was married ; and as it was probble 
 that miss would see the letter he roat, he made it such as not 
 to let her see two clearly into his present uncomfrable situation. 
 
 I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, read- 
 ing both of 'em, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting hers, 
 gave an inegspressable look with the white of her* i's, kist the 
 letter, and prest it to her busm. Lord Crabs read his quite 
 calm, and then they fell a-talking together \ and told me to 
 wait awhile, and I should git an anser. 
 
 After a deal of counseltation, my lord brought out a card, 
 and there was simply written on it, 
 
 To-morrow, at the A mbassador's, at Twelve. 
 
 " Carry that back to your master, Chawls," says he, " and 
 bid him not to fail." 
 
 You may be sure I stept back to him pretty quick, and gave 
 him the card and the messinge. Master looked sattasfied with 
 
MR. DE UCEA CE AT PARIS. , 48 1 
 
 both ; but suttnly not over happy ; no man is the day before 
 his marridge ; much more his marridge with a hump-back, 
 Harriss though she be. 
 
 Well, as he was a-going to depart this bachelor life, he did 
 what every man in such suckmstances ought to do ; he made 
 his will, — that is, he made a dispasition of his property, and 
 wrote letters to his creditors telling them of his lucky chance ; 
 and that after his marridge he would sutnly pay them every 
 stiver. Before, they must know his povvaty well enough to be 
 sure that paymint was out of the question. 
 
 • To do him justas, he seam'd to be inclined to do the thing 
 that was right, now that it didn't put him to any inkinvenients 
 to do so. 
 
 " Chawls," says he, handing me over a tenpun-note, " here's 
 your wagis, and thank you for getting me out of the scrape with 
 the bailiffs : when you are married, you shall be my valet out of 
 liv'ry, and I'll treble your salary." 
 
 His valit ! praps his butler ! Yes, thought I, here's a chance 
 — a valit to ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shave 
 him, and read his notes, and let my whiskers grow ; to dress in 
 spick and span black, and a clean shut per day ; muffings every 
 night in the housekeeper's room ; the pick of the gals in the 
 servants' hall ; a chap to clean my boots for me, and my master's 
 opera bone reglar once a week. I knew what a valit was as 
 well as any genlmn in service ; and this I can tell you, he's 
 genrally a hapier, idler, handsomer, mor genlmnly man than his 
 master. He has more money to spend, for genlmn will leave 
 their silver in their waiscoat pockets ■ more suxess among the 
 gals; as good dinners, and as good wine — that is, if he's 
 friends with the butler : and friends in corse they will be if they 
 know which way their interest lies. 
 
 But these are only cassels in the air, what the French call 
 shutter cT E spang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was 
 to be Mr. Deuceace's vallit. 
 
 Days will pass at last — even days befor a wedding (the 
 longist and unpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I 
 can tell you, excep, maybe, the day before his hanging) ; and 
 at length Aroarer dawned on the suspicious morning which was 
 to unite in the bonds of Hyming the Honrable Algernon Percy 
 Deuceace, Exquire, and Miss Matilda Griffin. My master's 
 wardrobe wasn't so rich as it had been; for he'd left the whole 
 of his nicknax and trumpry of dressing-cases and rob dy shams, 
 his bewtifle museum of varnished boots, his curous colleckshn 
 of Stulz and Staub coats, when he had been ableaged to quit 
 
 3 1 
 
482 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 so sudnly our pore dear lodginx at the Hotel Mirabew ; and 
 being incog at a friend's house, and contentid himself with 
 ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from a common tailor, with 
 a suffishnt quantaty of linning. 
 
 Well, he put on the best of his coats — a blue ; and I thought 
 it my duty to ask him whether he'd want his frock again : he 
 was good-natured and said, " Take it and be hanged to you." 
 Half-past eleven o'clock came, and I was sent to look out at 
 the door, if there were any suspicious charicters (a precious 
 good nose I have to find a bailiff out, I can tell you, and an i 
 which will almost see one round a corner) ; and presenly a very 
 modest green glass coach droave up, and in master stept. I 
 didn't, in corse, appear on the box ; because, being known, my 
 appearints might have compromised master. But I took a short 
 cut, and walked as quick as posbil down to the Rue de Foburg 
 St. Honore, where his exlnsy the English ambasdor lives, and 
 where marridges are always performed betwigst English folk at 
 Paris. 
 
 * # # # * 
 
 There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another 
 hotel, of that lo kind which the French call cabbyrays, or wine- 
 houses ; and jest as master's green glass coach pulled up, an- 
 other coach drove off, out of which came two ladies, whom I 
 knew pretty well, — sufflz, that one had a humpback, and the in- 
 genious reader will know why she came there ; the other was 
 poor Miss Kicksey, who came to see her turned off. 
 
 Well, master's glass coach droav up, jest as I got within a 
 few yards of the door ; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. 
 Down gets coachmin to open the door, and comes I to give Mr. 
 Deuceace an arm, when — out of the cabaray shoot four fellows, 
 and draw up betwigst the coach and embassy doar 5 two other 
 chaps go to the other doar of the carridge, and, opening it, one 
 says — " Rendezvous, M. Deuceace ! Je avous arrete au nom de 
 laloi ! " (which means, " Get out of that, Mr. D., you are nabbed, 
 and no mistake.") Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to 
 the other side of the coach, as if a serpint had stung him. He 
 flung open the door, and was for making off that way ; but he 
 saw the four chaps standing betwigst libbarty and him. He 
 slams down the front window, and screams out, " Fouettez, 
 cocher ! " (which means, " Go it, coachmin ! ") in a despert loud 
 voice ; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was off his box. 
 
 The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came 
 up to the door two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I 
 saw all ; I knew my duty, and so very mornfly I got up behind. 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 4?3 
 
 " Tiens," says one of the chaps in the street ; " c'est ce 
 drole qui nous a floue l'autre jour." I knew 'em, but was too 
 melumcoliy to smile. 
 
 " Oil irons-nous done ? " says coachmin to the genlmn who 
 had got inside. 
 
 A deep woice from the intearor shouted ou 4 - in reply to the 
 
 coachmin, " A Sainte Pelagie ! " 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humors of the 
 prizn of Sainte Pelagie, which is the French for Fleat, or 
 Queen's Bentch : but on this subject I'm rather shy of writing, 
 partly because the admiral Boz has, in the history of Mr. Pick- 
 wick, made such a dixcripshun of a prizn, that mine wooden 
 read very amyousingly afterwids ; and, also, because, to tell you 
 the truth, I didn't stay long in it, being not in a humer to waist 
 my igsistance by passing away the ears of my youth in such a 
 dull place. 
 
 My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat 
 from master to his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly 
 taken aback, as I can tell you, when she found, after remaining 
 two hours at the Embassy, that her husband didn't make his 
 appearance. And so, after staying on and on, and yet seeing 
 no husband, she was forsed at last to trudge dishconslit home, 
 where I was already waiting for her with a letter from my 
 master. 
 
 There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so 
 he confest it at onst ; but he made a cock-and-bull story of 
 treachery of a friend, infimous fodgery, and heaven knows what. 
 However, it didn't matter much ; if he had told her that he 
 had been betrayed by the man in the moon, she would have 
 bleavd him. 
 
 Lady Griffin never used to appear now at any of my visits. 
 She kep one drawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in 
 another ; they quarld so much that praps it was best they should 
 live apart ; only my Lord Crabs used to see both, comforting 
 each with that winning and innsnt way he had. He came in as 
 Miss, in tears, was lisning to my account of master's seazure, and 
 hoping that the prisn wasn't a horrid place, with a nasty horrid 
 dunjeon, and a dreadfle jailer, and nasty horrid bread and 
 water. Law bless us ! she had borrod her ideers from the 
 novvles she had been reading! 
 
 "O my lord, my lord," says she, "have you heard this fatal 
 story?" 
 
 " Dearest Matilda, what ? For heaven's sake, you alarm 
 
484 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 me ! What — yes — no — is it — no, it can't be ! Speak ! n says 
 my lord, seizing me by the choler of my coat. " What has 
 happened to my boy ? " 
 
 " Please you, my lord," says I, "he's at this moment in 
 prisn, no wuss, — having been incarserated about two hours 
 ago." 
 
 " In prison ! Algernon in prison ! 'tis impossible ! Im- 
 prisoned, for what sum ? Mention it, and I will pay to the 
 utmost farthing in my power." 
 
 " I'm sure your lordship is very kind," says I (recklecting 
 the sean betwixgst him and master, whom he* wanted to diddil 
 out of a thowsand lb.) ; " and you'll be happy to hear he's only 
 in for a trifle. Five thousand pound is, I think, pretty near the 
 mark." 
 
 " Five thousand pounds ! — confusion ! " says my lord, clasp- 
 ing his hands, and looking up to heaven, " and I have not 
 five hundred ! Dearest Matilda, how shall we help him ? " 
 
 "Alas, my lord, I have but three guineas, and you know 
 how Lady Griffin has the " 
 
 "Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say; but 
 be of good cheer — Algernon, you know, has ample funds of 
 his own." 
 
 Thinking my lord meant Dawkins' five thousand, of which, 
 to be sure, a good lump was left, I held my tung ; but I cooden 
 help wondering at Lord Crabs' igstream compashn for his son, 
 and Miss, with her 10,000/. a year, having only 3 guineas in 
 her pockit. 
 
 I took home (bless us, what a home ?) a long and very in- 
 flamble letter from Miss, in which she dixscribed her own 
 sorror at the disappointment ; swoar she lov'd him only the 
 moar for his misfortuns ; made light of them : as a pusson for 
 a paltry sum of five thousand pound ought never to be cast 
 down, 'specially as he had a certain independence in view; and 
 vowed that nothing, nothing, should ever injuice her to part 
 from him, etsettler, etsettler. 
 
 I told master of the conversation which had past betwigst 
 me and my lord, and of his handsome offers, and his horrow 
 at hearing of his son's being taken : and likewise mentioned 
 how strange it was that Miss should only have 3 guineas, and 
 with such a fortn : bless us, I should have thot that she would 
 always have carried a hundred thowsand lb. in her pockit ! 
 
 At this master only said Pshaw ! But the rest of the story 
 about his father seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he 
 made me repeat it over agin. 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS, 
 
 48S 
 
 He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd 
 as if a new lite was breaking in upon him. 
 
 " Chawls," says he, did you observe — did Miss — did my 
 father seem particularly intimate with Miss Griffin ? v 
 
 " How do you mean, sir ? " says I. 
 
 " Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin ? " 
 
 " He was suttnly very kind to her." 
 
 " Come, sir, speak at once : did Miss Griffin seem very fond 
 of his lordship ? " 
 
 " Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed very fond 
 of him." 
 
 t; What did he call her ? " 
 
 " He called her his dearest gal.-" 
 
 " Did he take her hand ? " 
 
 " Yes, and he—" 
 
 " And he what ? " 
 
 " He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted 
 about the misfortn which had hapnd to you." 
 
 " I have it now ! " says he, clinching his fist, and growing 
 gashly pail — " I have it now — the infernal old hoary scoundrel ! 
 the wicked, unnatural wretch ! He would take her from me ! " 
 And he poured out a volley of oaves which are impossbill to be 
 repeatid here. 
 
 I thot as much long ago : and when my lord kem with his 
 vizits so pretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected 
 some such game was in the wind. Indeed, I'd heard a some- 
 think of it from the Griffinses servnts, that my lord was mighty 
 tender with the ladies. 
 
 One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal 
 capassaties ; he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood 
 very small chance of having her. He must get out of limbo 
 immediantly, or his respectid father might be stepping into his 
 vaykint shoes. Oh ! he saw it all now — the fust attempt at arest, 
 the marridge fixtat 12 o'clock, and the bayliffs fixt to come and 
 intarup the marridge ! — the jewel, praps, betwigst him and De 
 l'Orge : but no, it was the woman who did that — a man don't 
 deal such fowl blows, igspecially a father to his son : a woman 
 may, poar thing ! — she's no other means of reventch, and is 
 used to fight with underhand wepns all her life through. 
 
 Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty 
 clear that he'd been beat by his father at his own game — a 
 trapp set for him onst, which had been defitted by my presnts 
 of mind — another trap set afterwids, in which my lord had been 
 suxesfle. Now, my lord, roag as he was, was much too good* 
 
4 86 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 natured to do an unkind ackshn, mearly for the sake of doing it. 
 He'd got to that pich that he didn't mind injaries — they were 
 all fair play to him — he gave 'em, and reseav'd them, without 
 a thought of mallis. If he wanted to injer his son, it was to 
 benefick himself. And how was this to be done ? By getting 
 •the hairiss to himself, to be sure. The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't 
 say so • but I knew his feelinx well enough — he regretted that 
 he had not given the old genlmn the money he askt for. 
 
 Poar fello ! he thought he had hit it • but he was wide of the 
 mark after all. 
 
 Well, but what was to be done ? It was clear that he must 
 marry the gal at any rate — cootky coot, as the French say : that 
 is, marry her, and hang the igspence. 
 
 To do so he must first git out of prisn — to get out of prisn 
 he must pay his debts — and to pay his debts, he must give every 
 shilling he was worth. Never mind : four thousand pound is a 
 small stake to a reglar gambler, igspecially when he must play 
 it, or rot for life in prisn ; and when, if he plays it well, it will 
 give him ten thousand a year. 
 
 So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid^up his mind, 
 and accordingly wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin : — 
 
 " My Adored Matilda, — Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poor fellow, who 
 had hoped that this night would have been the most blessed in his life, and now finds him- 
 self condemned to spend it within a prison wall ! You know the accursed conspiracy which 
 has brought these liabilities upon me, and the foolish friendship which has cost me so much. 
 But what matters ! We have, as you say, enough, even though I must pay this shameful 
 demand upon me ; and five thousand pounds are as nothing, compared to the happiness 
 which I lose in being separated a night from thee ! Courage, however! If I make a sacri- 
 fice it is for you ; and I were heartless indeed if I allowed my own losses to balance for a 
 moment against your happiness. 
 
 " Is it not so, beloved one ? Is not your happiness bound up with mine, in a union with 
 me ? I am proud to think so — proud, too, to offer such a humble proof as this of the depth 
 and purity of my affection. 
 
 " Tell me that you will still be mine ; tell me that you will be mine to-morrow ; and to- 
 morrow these vile chains shall be removed, and I will be free once more — or if bound, only 
 bound to you! My adorable Matilda! my betrothed bride ! write to me ere the evening 
 closes, for I shall never be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon my prison couch, until 
 they have been first blessed by the sight of a few words from thee ! Write to me, love ! 
 write to me ! I languish for the reply which is to make or mar me for ever. 
 
 Your affectionate 
 
 "A. P. D.' 
 
 Having polisht off this epistol, master intrustid it to me to 
 carry, and bade me at the same time to try and give it into 
 Miss Griffin's hand alone. I ran with it to Lady Griffinses. I 
 found Miss, as I desired, in a sollatary condition • and I pre- 
 sented her with master's pafewmed Billy. 
 
 She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, 
 and the tears which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep 
 and sighed until I thought she would bust. She even claspt 
 
THE LAST STROKE OF FORTUNE. 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 487 
 
 my hand in her's, and said, "O Charles ! is he very, very 
 miserable ? " 
 
 " He is, ma'am," says I ; " very miserable indeed — nobody, 
 upon my honor, could be miserablerer." 
 
 On hearing this pethetic remark, her mind was made up at 
 onst : and sitting down to her eskrewtaw, she immediately 
 ableaged master with an answer. Here it is in black and white : 
 
 " My prisoned bird shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest in these arms ! Adored 
 Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at the same place, at the same hour. Then, then, it 
 will be impossible for aught but death to divide us. M. G.'' 
 
 This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading 
 novvles, and cultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How 
 much better is it to be pufBckly ignorant of the hart of writing, 
 and to trust to the writing of the heart. This is my style : 
 artyfiz I despise, and trust compleatly to natur : but revnong a 
 no mooto?ig, as our continential friends remark : to that nice 
 white sheep, Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire ; that wenrabble 
 old ram, my Lord Crabs his father ; and that tender and 
 dellygit young lamb, Miss Matilda Griffin. 
 
 She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the 
 noat transcribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying, 
 according to my master's orders, "Miss, if you please, the 
 Honrabble Mr. Deuceace would be very much ableaged to you 
 to keep the seminary which is to take place to-morrow a pro- 
 found se when my master's father entered, and I fell 
 
 back to the door. Miss, without a word, rusht into his arms, 
 burst into teers agin, as was her reglar way (it must be confest 
 she was of a very mist constitution), and showing to him his 
 son's note, cried, " Look, my dear lord, how nobly your Alger- 
 non, our Algernon, writes to me. Who can doubt, after this, 
 of the purity of his matchless affection ? " 
 
 My lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal 
 amyoused, and returning it to its owner, said, very much to my 
 surprise, " My dear Miss Griffin, he certainly does seem in 
 earnest ; and if you choose to make this match without the 
 consent of your mother-in-law, you know the consequence, and 
 are of course your own mistress." 
 
 " Consequences !— for shame, my lord ! A little money, 
 more or less, what matters it to two hearts like ours ?" 
 
 " Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, but 
 Three-per-Cents. are better." 
 
 " Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without 
 the aid of Lady Griffin ? " - _ 
 
488 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 My lord shrugged his shoulders. " Be it so, my love," says 
 he. " I'm sure I can have no other reason to prevent a union 
 which is founded upon such disinterested affection." 
 
 And here the conversation dropped. Miss retired, clasping 
 her hands and making play with the whites of her i's. My 
 lord began trotting up and down the room, with his fat hands 
 stuck in his britchis pockits, his countnince lighted up with 
 igstream joy, and singing, to my inordnit igstonishment : 
 
 " See the conquering hero comes ! 
 Tiddy diddy doll— tiddydoll, doll, doll." 
 
 He began singing this song, and tearing up and down the room 
 like mad. I stood amazd — a new light broke in upon me. He 
 wasn't going, then, to make love to Miss Griffin ! Master 
 might marry her ! Had she not got the for ? 
 
 I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands 
 puppindicklar, my mouf wide open and these igstrordinary 
 thoughts passing in my mind, when my lord having got to the 
 last " doll " of his song, just as I came to the sillible " for " of 
 my ventriloquism, or inward speech — we had eatch jest 
 reached the pint digscribed, when the meditations of both were 
 sudnly stopt, by my lord, in the midst of his singin and trottin 
 -match, coming bolt up aginst poar me, sending me' up aginst 
 one end of the room, himself flying back to the other : and it 
 was only after considrabble agitation that we were at length 
 restored to anything like a liquilibrium. 
 
 " What, you here, your infernal rascal ? " says my lord. 
 
 " Your lordship's very kind to notus me," says I " I am 
 here." And I gave him a look. 
 
 He saw I knew the whole game. 
 
 And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I 
 bleave he'd have only whisled if he had been told he, was to be 
 hanged in five minits), after whisling a bit, he stops sudnly, and 
 coming up to me, says : 
 
 " Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 " Must it, sir ? says I ; " now, for my part, I don't think — " 
 " Stop my good fellow ; if it does not take place, what do 
 you gain ? " 
 
 This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a sit- 
 uation, for master had just enough money to pay his detts ; and 
 it wooden soot my book to serve him in prisn or starving. 
 
 " Well," says my lord, " you see the force of my argument. 
 Now, look here ! " and he lugs out a crisp, fluttering, snowy 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 489 
 
 hundred-pun note ! " If my son and Miss Griffin are married 
 to-morrow, you shall have this ; and I will, moreover, take you 
 into my service, and give you double your present wages. " 
 
 Flesh and blood cooden bear it. " My lord," says I, laying 
 my hand upon my busm, " only give me security," and I'm yours 
 for ever." 
 
 The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on the shoulder. 
 "Right, my lad," says he, 4 ' right — you're a nice promising 
 youth. Here is the best security." And he pulls out his pocket- 
 book, returns the hundred-pun bill, and takes out one for fifty. 
 "Here is half to-day ; to-morrow you shall have the remainder." 
 
 My fingers trembled a little as I took the pretty fluttering 
 bit of paper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had 
 ever had in my life. I cast my i upon the amount : it was a 
 fifty sure enough — a bank poss-bill, made payable to Leonora 
 Emilia Griffin, and indorsed by her. The cat was out of the 
 bag. Now, gentle reader, I spose you begin to see the game. 
 
 "Recollect, from' this day you are in my service." 
 
 " My lord, you overpoar me with your faviours." 
 
 "Go to the devil, sir," says he : "do your duty, and hold 
 your tongue." 
 
 And thus I went from the service of the Honorable A1-. 
 gernon Deuceace to that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble 
 
 Earl of Crabs. 
 
 * * # * # * # 
 
 On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that 
 oajus place to which his igstravygansies had deservedly led him ; 
 and felt for him, I must say, a great deal of contemp. A raskle 
 such as he — a swindler, who had robbed poar Dawkins of the 
 means of igsistance ; who had cheated his fellow-roag, Mr. 
 Richard Blewitt, and who was making a musnary marridge with 
 a disgusting creacher like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn 
 on my purt ; and I determined quite to keep secret the suckm- 
 stansies of my privit intervew with his exlnsy my present 
 master. 
 
 I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read with a 
 satisfied air. Then, turning to me, says he : " You gave this 
 to Miss Griffin alone ? " 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You gave her my message ? " 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when 
 you gave either the message or the note ? " 
 " Not there upon my honor," says I. 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J, YELLOWPLUSH 
 
 " Hang your honor, sir ! Brush my hat and coat, and go 
 
 call a coach — do you hear ? " 
 
 -Jfc ^fc ±- Jt. JZ» ^L. JJ, 
 
 "tv* TP Tv" "Jv tv" ^rr 7r 
 
 I did as I was ordered ; and on coming back found master 
 in what's called, I think, the greffe of the prisn. The officer in 
 waiting had out a great register, and was talking to master in 
 the French tongue, in coarse ; a number of poar prisners were 
 looking eagerly on. 
 
 " Let us see, my lor," says he • the debt is 98,700 francs ; 
 there are capture expenses, interest so much ; and |he whole 
 sum amounts to a hundred thousand francs, moins 13." 
 
 Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocket- 
 book four thowsnd pun notes. " This is not French money, 
 butrl presume that you know it, M. Greffier," says he. 
 
 The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer, 
 who had one or two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to 
 be there. " Les billets sont bons," says he. " Je les prendrai 
 pour cent mille douze cent francs, et j'espere, my lor, de vous 
 re voir." 
 
 " Good," says the greffier ; " I know them to be good, and 
 I will give my lor the difference, and make out his release." 
 
 Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as 
 the great dubble iron gates swung open and clang to again, 
 and Deuceace stept out, and me after him, to breathe the fresh 
 hair. 
 
 He had been in the place but six hours, and was now free 
 again — free, and to be married to ten thousand a yearnex day. 
 But, for all that, he lookt very faint and pale. He had put 
 down his great stake ; and when he came out of Sainte Pelagie, 
 he had but fifty pounds left in the world ! 
 
 Never mind — when oust the money's down, make your mind 
 easy ; and so Deuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel 
 Mirabew, where he ordered apartmince infinately more splendid 
 than befor ; and I pretty soon told Toinette, and the rest of 
 the suvvants, how nobly he behayved, and how he valyoud four 
 thousand pound no more than ditch water. And such was the 
 consquincies of my praises, and the poplarity I got for us boath, 
 that the delighted landlady immediantly charged him dubble 
 what she would have done, if it hadn been for my stoaries. 
 
 He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the nex week ; a 
 carridge-and-four for Fontainebleau to-morrow at 12 precisely ; 
 and having settled all these things, went quietly to the " Roshy 
 de Cancale," where he dined : as well he might, for it was now 
 eight o'clock. I didn't spare the shompang neither that night, 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 49 1 
 
 I can tell you ; for when I carried the note he gave me for Miss 
 Griffin in the evening, informing her of his freedom, that young 
 lady remarked my hagitated manner of walking and speaking, 
 and said, " Honest Charles ! he is flusht with the event of the 
 day. Here, Charles, is a napoleon ; take it and drink to your 
 mistress." 
 
 I pockitid it; but, I must say, I didn't like the money — it 
 went against my stomick to take it. 
 
 •Chap. IX. — The Marriage. 
 
 Well, the nex day came: at 12 the carridge-and-four was 
 waiting at the ambasdor's doar; and Miss Griffin and the 
 faithfle Hicksey were punctial to the apintment. 
 
 I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary — how the 
 embasy chapling jined the hands of this loving young couple — 
 how one of the embasy footmin was called in to witness the 
 marridge — how Miss wep and fainted, as usial — and how Deuce- 
 ace carried her, fainting, to the brisky, and drove off to Fon- 
 tingblo, where they were to pass the fust weak of the honey- 
 moon. They took no servnts, because they wisht, they said, to 
 be privit. And so, when I had shut up the steps, and bid the 
 postilion drive on, I bid ajew to the Honrabble Algernon, and 
 went off strait to his exlent father. 
 
 " Is it all over, Chawls ? " said he. 
 
 "I saw them turned off at igsackly a quarter past 12, my 
 lord," says I. 
 
 " Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before 
 her marriage ? " 
 
 " I did, my lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bob- 
 tail's man • who can swear to her having had it." 
 
 I must tell you that my lord had made me read a paper 
 which Lady Griffin had written, and which I was comishnd to 
 give in the manner menshnd abuff. It ran to this effect : — 
 
 M According to the authority given me by the will of my late dear husband. I forbid 
 the marriage of Miss Griffin with the Honorable Algernon Percy Deuceace. If Miss 
 Griffin persists in the union, I warn her that she must abide by the consequences of her act. 
 
 " Leonora Emilia. Griffin." 
 
 " Rue de Rivoli, May 8, 1818." 
 
 When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyarcl, a 
 minnit before my masters arrivle, she only read it contempti- 
 ously, and said, " 1 laugh at the threats of Lady Griffin ; " and 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL O WPL US II. 
 
 she toar the paper in two, and walked on, leaning on the arm 
 of the faithful and obleaging Miss Kicksey. 
 
 I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my 
 lord. Not that there was any necessaty ; for he'd kep a copy, 
 and made me and another witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator) 
 read them both, before he sent either away. 
 
 " Good ! " says he ; and he projuiced from his potfolio the 
 fello of that bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yes- 
 terday. " I keep my promise, you see, Charles," says he. 
 " You are now in Lady Griffin's service, in the place of Mr. Fitz- 
 clarence, who retires. Go to Froje : s, and get a livery." 
 
 " But, my lord," says I, " I was not to go into Lady Griffin- 
 ses service, according to the bargain, but into " 
 
 " It's all the same thing," says he ; and he walked off. I 
 went to Mr. Froje"s, and ordered a new livry ; and found, lik- 
 wise, that our coachmin and Munseer Mortimer had been there 
 too. My lady's livery was changed, and was now of the same 
 color as my old coat at Mr. Deuceace's ; and I'm blest if there 
 wasn't a tremenjious great earl's corronit on the butins, instid 
 of the Griffin rampint, which was worn befoar. 
 
 I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured ; 
 and slep that night at the Plas Vandome. I didn't go out with 
 the carridge for a day or two, though ; my lady only taking 
 one footmin, she said, until her new carridge was turned out 
 
 I think you can guess what's in the wind now / 
 
 I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few 
 duzen lawn sherts and neckcloths, and other things which were 
 necessary for a genlmn in my rank. Silk stockings was pro- 
 vided by the rules of the house. And I completed the bisniss 
 by writing the following ginteel letter to my late master : — 
 
 "CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQUIRE, TO THE HONORABLE 
 A. P. DEUCEACE. 
 
 " Sur, — Suckmstatisies have acurd sins I last had the honner of wating on you, which 
 render it impossibil that I should remane any longer in your suvvice. I'll thank you to 
 leave out my thmx, when chey come home on Sattady from the wash. 
 
 " Your obeajnt servnt, 
 
 Charles Yellowplush." 
 
 " Plas Vendome" 
 
 The athography of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious ; 
 but ke voolyvoo ? I was only eighteen, and hadn then the ex- 
 pearance in writing which I've enjide sins. 
 
 Having thus done my jewty in evry way, I shall prosead, in 
 the nex chapter, to say what hapnd in my new place. 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 493 
 
 Chap. X. — The Honey-Moon. 
 
 The weak at Fontingblow past quickly away ; and at the 
 end of it, our son and daughter-in-law — a pare of nice young 
 tuttle-duvs — returned to their nest, at the Hotel Mirabew. I 
 suspeck that the cock turtle-dove was preshos sick of his 
 barging. 
 
 When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their table 
 was a large parsle wrapt up in silver paper, and a newspaper, 
 and a couple of cards, tied up with a peace of white ribbing. 
 In the parsle was a hansume piece of plum-cake, with a deal of 
 sugar. On the cards was wrote, in Goffick characters . 
 
 Carl of <Cxabs. 
 
 And, in very small Italian, 
 
 Countess of Crabs 
 
 And in the paper was the following parrowgraff : — 
 
 " Marriage in High Life. — Yesterday, at the British embassy, the Right Honorable 
 John Augustus Altamont Piantagenet, Earl of Crabs, to Leonora Emilia, widow of the late 
 Lieutenant-General Sir George Griffin, K. C. B. An elegant dejeune was given to the 
 happy couple by his Excellency Lord Bobtail, who gave away the bride. The elite of the 
 foreign diplomacy, the Prince Talleyrand and Marshal the Duke of Dalmatia on behalf of 
 H. M. the King of France, honored the banquet and the marriage ceremony. Lord and 
 Lady Crabs intend passing a few weeks at Saint Cloud." 
 
 The above dockyments, along with my own triffling billy, of 
 which I have also givn a copy, greated Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace 
 on their arrivle from Fontingblo. Not being present, I can't 
 say what Deuceace said ; but I can fancy how he lookt, and how 
 poor Mrs. Deuceace lookt. They weren't much incline to rest 
 after the flteeg of the junny \ for, in y 2 an hour after their 
 arrival at Paris, the hosses were put to the carridge agen, and 
 down they came thundering to our country-house at St. Cloud 
 (pronounst by those absud Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup 
 our chaste love and delishs marridge injyments. 
 
 My lord was sittn in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling 
 
 32 
 
494 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL 0 WPL USH. 
 
 on a sofa at an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle ; her 
 ladyship, who, to du her justice, didn mind the smell, occupied 
 another end of the room, and was working, in wusted, a pare of 
 slippers, or an umbrellore case, or a coal-skittle, or some such 
 nonsints. You would have thought to have sean 'em that they 
 had been married a sentry, at least. Well, I bust in upon this 
 conjugal tator-tator, and said, very much alarmed, " My lord, 
 here's your son and daughter-in-law." 
 
 "Well," says my lord, quite calm, "and what then ?" 
 
 " Mr. Deuceace ! " says my lady, starting up, and looking 
 fritened. 
 
 " Yes, my love, my son ; but you need not be alarmed. 
 Pray, Charles, say that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to 
 see Mr. and Mrs. Deuceace ; and that they must excuse us 
 receiving them en famille. Sit still, my blessing — take things 
 coolly. Have you got the box with the papers ? " 
 
 My lady pointed to a great green box — the same from which 
 she had taken the papers, when Deuceace fust saw them, — and 
 handed over to my lord a fine gold key. I went out, met 
 Deuceace and his wife on the stepps, gave my messinge, and 
 bowed them palitely in. 
 
 My lord didn't rise, but smoaked away as usual (praps a 
 little quicker, but I can't say) ; my lady sat upright, looking 
 handsum and strong. Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to 
 his breast, his wife and hat on the other. He looked very pale 
 and frightened ; his wife, poar thing ! had her head berried in 
 her handkerchief, and sobd fit to break her heart. 
 
 Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention 
 her, she was less than, nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. 
 Deuceace at onst, and held out her arms — she had a heart, 
 that old Kicksey, and I respect her for it. The poor hunch- 
 back flung herself into. Miss's arms, with a kind of whooping 
 screech, and kep there for some time, sobbing in quite a 
 historical manner. I saw there was going to be a sean, and so, 
 in cors, left the door ajar. 
 
 " Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy my boy ! " says my lord, in 
 a loud, hearty voice. " You thought you would give us the 
 slip, eh, you rogue ? But we knew it, my dear fellow :. we knew 
 the whole affair — did we not, my soul ? — and you see, kept our 
 secret better than you did yours." 
 
 " I must confess, sir," says Deuceace, bowing, " that I had 
 no idea of the happiness which awaited me in the shape of a 
 mother-in-law." 
 
 " No, you dog ; no, no," says my lord, giggling : " old birds, 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 495 
 
 you know, not to be caught with chaff, like young ones. But 
 here we are, all spliced and happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon ; 
 let us smoke a segar, and talk over the perils and adventures 
 of the last month. My love," says my lord, turning to his lady, 
 " you have no malice against poor Algernon, I trust ? Pray 
 shake his hand." (A grin.) 
 
 But my lady rose and said, " I have told Mr. Deuceace, that 
 I never wished to see him, or speak to him, more. I see no 
 reason, now, to change my opinion." And herewith she sailed 
 out of the room, by the door through which Kicksey had carried 
 poor Mrs. Deuceace. 
 
 " Well, well," says my lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, " I 
 was in hopes she had forgiven you ; but I know the whole story, 
 and I must confess you used her cruelly ill. Two strings to 
 your bow ! — that was your game, was it, you rogue ? " 
 
 " Do you mean, my lord, that you know all that past 
 between me and Lady Grif — Lady Crabs, before our quarrel ? " 
 
 ff Perfectly — you made love to her, and she was almost in 
 love with you ; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot 
 your hand off in revenge : no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace ; 
 no more santer la coupe. I can't think how the deuce you will 
 manage to live without them." 
 
 " Your lordship is very kind ; but I have given up play alto- 
 gether," says Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy. 
 
 " Oh, indeed ! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he ? 
 This is better and better. Are you thinking of going into the 
 church, Deuceace ? " 
 
 " My lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious ? " 
 
 " Serious ! a quoi bo?t ? I am serious — serious in my surprise 
 that, when you might have had either of these women, you 
 should have preferred that hideous wife of yours." 
 
 " May I ask you, in turn, how you came to be so little 
 squeamish about a wife, as to choose a woman who had just 
 been making love to your own son ? " says Deuceace, growing 
 fierce. 
 
 " How can you ask such a question ? I owe forty thousand 
 pounds — there is an execution at Sizes Hall — every acre I have 
 is in the hands of my creditors ; and that's why I married her. 
 Do you think there was any love ? Lady Crabs is a dev'lish 
 fine woman, but she's not a fool — she married me for my 
 coronet, and I married her for her money." 
 
 " Well, my lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I mar- 
 ried the daughter-in-law." 
 
 " Yes, but I do, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to 
 
496 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL O WPL US II. 
 
 live ? Dawkins's five thousand pounds won't last for ever ; and 
 afterwards ? " 
 
 " You don't mean, my lord — you don't — I mean, you can't 
 
 • D — ! " says he, starting up, and losing all patience, " you 
 
 don't dare to say that Miss Griffin had not a fortune of ten 
 thousand a year ? " 
 
 My lord was rolling up, and wetting betwigst his lips, 
 another segar ; he lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said 
 quietly — 
 
 " Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year." 
 " Well, sir, and has she not got it now ? Has she spent it 
 in a week ? " 
 
 "She has not got a sixpence now : she married without her 
 mother's consent!" 
 
 Deuceace sunk down in a chair ; and I never see such a 
 dreadful picture of despair as there was in the face of that 
 retchid man ! — he writhed, and nasht his teeth, he tore open 
 his coat, and wriggled madly the stump of his left hand, until, 
 fairly beat, he threw it over his livid pale face, and sinking 
 backwards, fairly wept alowd. 
 
 Bah ! it's a dreddfle thing to hear a man crying ! his pashn 
 torn up from the very roots of his heart, as it must be before it 
 can git such a vent. My lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, 
 lighted it, and went on. 
 
 " My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have 
 left you alone in peace, with your four thousand pounds ; you 
 might have lived decently upon it in Germany, where money is 
 at 5 per cent., where your duns would not find you, and a couple 
 of hundred a year would have kept you and your wife in com- 
 fort. But, you see, Lady Crabs would not listen to it. You 
 had injured her ; and, after she had tried to kill you and failed, 
 she determined to ruin you, and succeeded. I must own to 
 you that I directed the arresting business, and put her up to 
 buying your protested bills : she got them for a trifle, and as 
 you have paid them, has made a good two thousand pounds by 
 her bargain. It was a painful thing to be sure, for a father to 
 get his son arrested ; but que voulez-vous ? I did not appear in 
 the transaction: she would have you ruined; and it was 
 absolutely necessary that you should marry before I could, so I 
 pleaded your cause with Miss Griffin, and made you the happy 
 man you are. You rogue, you rogue ! you thought to match 
 your old father, did you ? But, never mind ; lunch will be ready 
 soon. In the meantime, have a segar, and drink a glass of 
 Sauterne." 
 
MR, DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 497 
 
 Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprung up 
 wildly. 
 
 ■ ■ I'll not believe it," he said : " it's a lie, an infernal lie ! 
 forged by you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and 
 strumpet you have married. I'll not believe it : show me the 
 will. Matilda ! Matilda !" shouted he, screaming hoarsely, and 
 flinging open the door by which she had gone out. 
 
 " Keep your temper, my boy. You are vexed, and I feel 
 for you : but d#n't use such bad language : it is quite needless, 
 believe me." 
 
 " Matilda ! " shouted out Deuceace again ; and the poor 
 crooked thing came trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. 
 
 " Is this true, woman ? " says he, clutching hold of her 
 hand. 
 
 " What, dear Algernon ? " says she. 
 
 " What? " screams out Deuceace, — " what ? Why that you 
 are a beggar, for marrying without your mother's consent — that 
 you basely lied to me, in order to bring about this match — that 
 you are a swindler, in conspiracy with that old fiend yonder and 
 the she-devil his wife ? " 
 
 " It is true," sobbed the poor woman," "that I have nothing ; 
 but " 
 
 " Nothing but what ? Why don't you speak, you drivelling 
 fool?" 
 
 " I have nothing ! — but you, dearest, have two thousand a 
 year. Is that not enough for us ? You love me for myself, 
 don't you, Algernon? You have told me so a thousand times 
 — say so again, dear husband ; and do not, do not be so 
 unkind." And here she sank on her knees, and clung to him, 
 and tried to catch his hand, and kiss it. 
 
 " How much did you say ? " says my lord. 
 
 " Two thousand a year, sir ; he has told us so a thousand 
 times." 
 
 "Two thousand/ Two thou — ho, ho, ho! — haw! haw! 
 haw ! " roars my lord. " That is, I vow, the best thing I ever 
 heard in my life. My dear creature, he has not a shilling — not 
 a single maravedi, by all the gods and goddesses." And this 
 exlnt noblemin began lafnn louder than ever : a very kind and 
 feeling genlmn he was, as all must confess. 
 
 There was a paws : and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing 
 and swearing at her husband as he had done at her : she only 
 said, " O Algernon ! is this true ? " and got up, and went to a 
 chair and wep in quiet. 
 
 My lord opened the great box. " If you or your lawyers 
 
49 8 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 would like to examine Sir George's will, it is quite at your ser- 
 vice \ you will see here the proviso which I mentioned, that 
 gives the entire fortune to Lady Griffin — Lady Crabs that is : 
 and here, my dear boy, you see the danger of hasty conclusions. 
 Her ladyship only showed you the first page of the will, of course : 
 she wanted to try you. You thought you made a great stroke 
 in at once proposing to Miss Griffin — do not mind it, my love, 
 he really loves you now very sincerely ! — when, in fact, you 
 would have done much better to have read the rest of the will. 
 You were completely bitten, my boy — humbugged, bamboozled 
 - — ay, and by your old father, you dog. I told you I would, you 
 know, when you refused to lend me a portion of your Dawkins 
 money. I told you I would ; and ,1 did. I had you the very 
 next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy ; don't 
 try your luck again against such old hands : look deuced well 
 before you leap : audi alteram partem, my lad, which means, 
 read both sides of the will. I think lunch is ready : but I see 
 you don't smoke. Shall we go in ? " 
 
 " Stop, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: "I 
 shall not share your hospitality — but — but you know my condi- 
 tion ; I am penniless — you know the manner in which my wife 
 has been brought up " 
 
 " The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a 
 home here, as if nothing had occurred to interrupt the friend- 
 ship between her dear mother and herself." 
 
 " And for me, sir," says Deuceace, speaking faint, and 
 very slow ; " I hope — I trust — I think, my lord, you will not 
 forget me ? " 
 
 " Forget you, sir ; certainly not.' 
 
 " And that you will make some provision ? " 
 
 "Algernon Deuceace," says my lord, getting up from the 
 sophy, and looking at him with sich a jolly malignity, as / 
 never see, " I declare, before heaven, that I will not give you a 
 penny ! " 
 
 Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and 
 said, " My dear, will you join your mother and me ? We shall 
 always, as I said, have a home for you." 
 
 " My lord," said the poar thing, dropping a curtsey, " my 
 home is with him /" 
 
 •Hf 
 
 ^ -^r ^ ^ 
 
 # * * * * # * 
 
 About three months after, when the season was beginning 
 at Paris, and the autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my 
 
MR. DEUCE ACE AT PARIS. 
 
 499 
 
 lady, me and Mortimer, were taking a stroal in the Boddy 
 Balong, the carridge driving on slowly ahead, and us as happy 
 as possbill, admiring the pleasant woods and the goldn sunset. 
 
 My lord was expayshating to my lady upon the exquizit 
 beauty of the sean, and pouring forth a host of butifle and vir- 
 tuous sentaments sootable to the hour. It was dalitefle to hear 
 him. " Ah ! " said he, " black must be the heart, my love, 
 which does not feel the influence of a scene like this * gathering 
 as it were, from those sunlit skies, a portion of their celestial 
 gold, and gaining somewhat of heaven with each pure draught 
 of this delicious air ! " 
 
 Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked up- 
 wards. Mortimer and I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the 
 sean and lent on our goold sticks in silence. The carriage 
 drew up close to us, and my lord and my lady sauntered slowly 
 tords it. 
 
 Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a 
 poorly drest woman, and by her, leaning against a tree, was a 
 man whom I thought I'd sean befor. He was drest in a shabby 
 blew coat, with white seems and copper buttons ; a torn hat 
 was on his head, and great quantaties of matted hair and 
 wiskers disfiggared his countnints. He was not shaved, and 
 as pale as stone. 
 
 My lord and lady didn't tak the slightest notice of him, 
 but past on to the carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took our 
 places. As we past, the man had got a grip of the woman's 
 shoulder, who was holding down her head sobbing bitterly. 
 
 No sooner were my lord and lady seated, than they both, 
 with igstream dellixy and good natur, bust into a ror of lafter, 
 peal upon peal, whooping and screaching enough to frighten 
 the evening silents. 
 
 Deuceace turned round. I see his face now — the face of 
 a devvle of hell ! Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and 
 pinted to it with his maimed arm ; then he raised the other, 
 and struck the woman by his side. She fell, screaming. 
 
 Poor thing ! Poor thing ! 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW. 
 
 The end of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end 
 of my corrispondince. I wish the public was as sory to part 
 with me as I am with the public ; becaws I fansy reely that 
 we've become frends, and feal for my part a becoming greaf at 
 saying ajew. 
 
 It's impossbill for me to continyow, however, a-writin, as I 
 have done — violetting the rules of authography, and trampling 
 upon the fust princepills of English grammar. When I began, 
 I knew no better : when I'd carrid on these papers a little fur- 
 ther, and grew accustmd to writin, I began to smel out some- 
 think quear in my style. Within the last sex weaks I have 
 been learning to spell : and when all the world was rejoicing at 
 the festivvaties of our youthful Quean— # when all i's were fixt 
 upon her long sweet of ambasdors and princes, following the 
 splendid carridge of Marshle the Duke of Damlatiar, and blink- 
 ing at the pearls and dimince of Prince Oystereasy — Yellow- 
 plush was in his loanly pantry — his eyes were fixt upon the 
 spelling-book — his heart was bent upon mastring the diffickle- 
 ties of the littery professhn. I have been, in fact, convertid. 
 
 You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house ; and 
 ever sins his third son has got a place in the Treasury, his 
 secknd a captingsy in the Guards, his fust, the secretary of em- 
 basy at Pekin, with a prospick of being appinted ambasdor at 
 Loo Choo — ever sins master's sons have reseaved these atten- 
 tions, and master himself has had the promis of a pearitch, he 
 has been the most reglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, in or 
 out of the House of Commins. 
 
 Well, being a Whig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave 
 littery pipple ; and accordingly, at dinner, tother day, whose 
 name do you think I had to hollar out on the fust landing-place 
 about a wick ago ? After several dukes and markises had been 
 enounced, a very gentell fly drives up to our doar, and out 
 steps two gentlemen. One was pail, and wor spektickles, a wig, 
 and a white neckcloth. The other w r as slim with a hook nose, 
 a pail fase, a small waist, a pare of falling shoulders, a tight 
 coat, and a catarack of black satting tumbling out of his busm, 
 and falling into a gilt velvet weskit. The little genlmn settled 
 
 * This was written in 1838. 
 
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S A JEW. 
 
 his wigg, and pulled out his ribbins ; the younger one fluffed 
 the dust of his shoos, looked at his wiskers in a little pockit- 
 glas, settled his crevatt ; and they both mounted up stairs. 
 
 " What name, sir ? " says I, to the old* genlmn. 
 
 "Name! — a! now, you thief o' the wurrld," says he, " do 
 you pretind nat to know me ? Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa — 
 no, I mane the Litherary Chran — psha ! — bluthanowns ! — say 
 it's Docthor Dioclesian Larner — I think he'll know me now 
 — ay, Nid ? " But the genlmn called Nid was at the botm of 
 the stare, and pretended to be very busy with his shoo-string. 
 So the little genlmn went up stares alone. 
 
 "Doctor Diolesius Larner!" says I. 
 
 " Doctor ATHANASfUS Lardner ! " says Greville Fitz-Roy, 
 our secknd footman, on the fust landing-place. 
 
 " CDoctor Ignatius Cogola ! " says the groom of the cham- 
 bers, who pretends to be a schollar ; and in the little genlmn 
 went. When safely housed, the other chap came ) and when I 
 asked him his name, said, in a thick, gobbling kind of voice : 
 
 " Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig." 
 
 " Sir what ? " says I, quite agast at the name. 
 
 " Sawed wad — no, I mean Mistawedwad Lyttn Bui wig." 
 
 My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice 
 shook, as I past up the venrabble name to the other footman, 
 and saw this fust of English writers go up to the drawing- 
 room ! 
 
 It's needless to mention the names of the rest of the com- 
 pny, or to dixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suffiz to 
 say that the two littery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed 
 to have good appytights ; igspecially the little Irishman in the 
 whig, who et, drunk, and talked as much as \ a duzn. He 
 told how he'd i>een presented at cort by his friend, Mr. Bul- 
 wig, and how the Quean had received 'em both, with a dignity 
 undigscribable • and how her blessid Majisty asked what was the 
 bony fidy sale of the Cabinit Cyclopsedy, and how he (Doctor 
 Larner) told her that, on his honner, it was under ten thowsnd. 
 
 You may guess that the Doctor, when he made this speach, 
 was pretty far gone. The fact is, that whether it was the. coro- 
 nation, or the goodness of the wine (cappitle it is in our house, 
 /can tell you), or the natral propensaties of the gests assem- 
 bled, which made them so igspecially jolly, I don't know ; but 
 they had kep up the meating pretty late, and our poar butler 
 was quite tired with the perpechual baskits of clarrit which 
 he'd been called upon to bring up. So that about 1 1 o'clock, 
 if I were to say they were merry, I should use a mild term ; 
 
s 02 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELL 0 WPL USH. 
 
 if I wer to say they were intawsicated, I should use an igs- 
 presshn more near to the truth, but less rispeckful in one of 
 my situashn. 
 
 The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute exton- 
 ishment. 
 
 " Pray, Doctor Lardner," says a spiteful genlmn, willing to 
 keep up the littery conversation, " what is the Cabinet Cyclo- 
 paedia ? " 
 
 " It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld," says he ; " and 
 sure your lordship must have seen it ; the latther numbers 
 ispicially — cheap as durrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shil- 
 lings a vollum. The illusthrious neems of Walther Scott, 
 Thomas Moore, Docther Southey, Sir J*ames Mackintosh, Doc- 
 ther Donovan, and meself, are to be found in the list of con- 
 thributors. It's the Phaynix of Cyclopajies — a litherary Ba- 
 con." 
 
 " A what ? " says the genlmn nex to him. 
 
 " A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age ; fild wid 
 the pure end lambent flame of science, burning with the gorr- 
 geous scintillations of divine litherature — a momimintum, in 
 fact, are perinnius, bound in a pink calico, six shillings a vol- 
 lum." 
 
 " This wigmawole," said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather 
 disgusted that his friend should take up so much of the convas- 
 sation), " this wigmawole is all vewy well ; but it's cuwious 
 that you don't wemember, in chawactewising the litewawy the 
 me wits of the vawious magazines, cwonicles, weviews, and en- 
 cyclopaedias, the existence of a cwitical weview and litewawy 
 chwonicle, which, though the aewa of its appeawance is dated 
 only at a vewy few months pwevious to the pwesent pewiod, is, 
 nevertheless, so wemarkable for its intwinsic mcwits as to be 
 wead, not in the metwopolis alone, but in the countwy — not in 
 Fwance merely, but in the west of Euwope — whewever our 
 pure Wenglish is spoken, it swetches its peaceful sceptre — 
 pewused in Amewica, fwom New York to Niagawa — wepwinted 
 in Canada, from Montweal to Towonto — and, as I am gwatified 
 to hear from my fwend the governor of Cape Coast Castle, 
 wegularly weceived in Afwica, and twanslated into the Man- 
 dingo language by the missionawies and the bushwangers. I 
 need not say, gentlemen — sir — that is, Mr. Speaker-^ mean, 
 Sir John — that I allude to the Litewawy Chwonicle, of which 
 I have honor to be pwincipal contwibutor." 
 
 " Very true, my dear Mr. Bullwig," says my master : " you 
 and I being Whigs, must of course stand by our friends ; and I 
 
MR. YELL O WPL USE'S A JE W. 
 
 will agree, without a moment's hesitation, that the Literary 
 what-d'ye-caU'em i s the prince of periodicals. " 
 
 " The Pwince of Pewiodicals ? " says Bullwig ; " my dear Sir 
 John, it's the empewow of the pwess." 
 
 " Soit, — let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically 
 call it : but, between ourselves, confess it, — Do not the Tory 
 writers beat your Whigs hollow ? You talk about magazines. 
 Look at *' 
 
 " Look at hwat ? " shouts out Larder. " There's none, Sir 
 Jan, compared to ourrs." 
 
 " Pardon me, I think that " 
 
 " It is ' Bentley's Mislany ' you mane ? " says Ignatius, as 
 sharp as a niddle. 
 
 '•'Why, no; but " 
 
 " O thin, it's Co'burn, sure ; and that divvle Thayodor — a 
 pretty- paper, sir, but light — thrashy, milk-and-wathery — not 
 sthrong, like the Litherary Chran — good luck to it." 
 
 " Why, Doctor Lander, I was going to tell at once the name 
 of the periodical, — it is Fraser's Magazine." 
 
 " Freser ! " says the Doctor. " O thunder and turf ! " 
 
 " Fwaser ! " says Bullwig. " O — ah — hum — haw — yes — - 
 no — why, — that is weally — no, weally, upon my weputation, I 
 never before heard the name of the pewiodical. By the bya, 
 Sir John, what remarkable good clawet this is ; is it Lawose or 
 Laff ? " 
 
 Laff, indeed ! he couldn't git beyond laff ; and I'm blest if 
 I could kip it neither, — for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and 
 being behind the skreend, settlin sumthink for a genlmn, I bust 
 into such a raw of laffing as never was igseeded. 
 
 " Hullo ! " says Bullwig, turning red. " Have I said any- 
 thing impwobable, aw widiculous ? for, weally, I never befaw 
 wecollect to have heard in society such a twemendous peal of 
 cachinnation — that which the twagic bard who fought at Ma- 
 wathon has called an anewithrnon gelasma." 
 
 "Why, be the holy piper," says Larder, "I think you are 
 dthrawing a little on your imagination. Not read Fraser ! 
 Don't believe him, my lord duke ; be reads every word of it, 
 the rogue ! The boys about that magazine baste him as if he 
 was a sack of oatmale. My reason for crying out, Sir Jan, was 
 because you mintioned Fraser at all. Bullwig has every sylla- 
 ble of it be heart — from the paillitix down to the ' Yellowplush 
 Correspondence.' " 
 
 " Ha, ha ! " says Bullwig, affecting to laff (you may be sure 
 my years prickt up when I heard the name of the ' Yellowplush 
 
504 THE . MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 Correspondence '). " Ha, ha ! why, to tell twuth, I have wead 
 the cowespondence to which you allude : it's a gweat favowite 
 at court. I was talking with Spwing Wice and John Wussell 
 about it the other day." 
 
 " Well, and what do you think of it ? " says Sir John, looking 
 mity waggish — for he knew it was me who roat it. 
 
 " Why, weally and twuly, there's considewable cleverness 
 about the cweature ; but it's low, disgustingly low : it violates 
 pwobability, and the orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that 
 it requires a positive study to compwehend it." 
 
 " Yes, faith," says Larner; "the arthagraphy is detestible ; 
 it's as bad for a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to 
 speak with a brrogue. Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. 
 Your health, my lord, and good luck to you." 
 
 "Yaw wemark," says Bullwig, "is vewy appwopwiate. You 
 will wecollect, Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you, Doctor, you 
 know more about Iwish than about Gweek), — you will wecollect, 
 without doubt, a stowy nawwated by that cwedulous though 
 fascinating chwonicler, of a certain kind of sheep which is 
 known only in a certain distwict of Awabia, and of which the 
 tail is so enormous, that it either dwaggles on the gwound, or 
 is bound up by the shepherds of the country into asmallwheel- 
 bawwow, or cart, which makes the chwonicler sneewingly we- 
 mark that thus ' the sheep of Awabia have their own chawiots.' 
 I have often thought, sir (this clawet is weally nectaweous), — 
 I have often, I say, thought that the wace of man may be com- 
 pawed to these Awabian sheep — genius is our tail, education 
 our wheelbawwow. Without art and education to pwop it, this 
 genius dwops on the gwound, and is polluted by the mud, or 
 injured by the wocks upon the way : with the wheelbawwow it 
 is stwengthened, incweased, and supported — a pwide to the 
 owner, a blessing to mankind." 
 
 "Avery appropriate simile," says Sir John; "and I am 
 afraid that the genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of 
 some such support." 
 
 " Apropos," said Bullwig, " who is Yellowplush ? I was given 
 to understand that the name was only a fictitious one, and that 
 the papers were written by the author of the f Diary of a Physi- 
 cian ; ' if so, the man has wonderfully improved in style, and 
 there is some hope of him." 
 
 " Bah ! " says the Duke of Doublejowl • " everybody knows 
 it's Barnard, the celebrated author of ' Sam Slick.' " 
 
 "Pardon, my dear duke," says Lord Bagwig ; "it's the 
 authoress of ' High Life,' f Almack's,' and other fashionable 
 novels." 
 
MR. YELL O WPL USWS A JE W. 
 
 " Fiddlestick's end ! " says Doctor Larner ; " don't be blush- 
 ing and pretinding to ask questions : don't we know you, Bull- 
 wig ? It's you yourself, you thief of the world : we smoked you 
 from the very beginning." 
 
 Bullwig was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John inter- 
 rupted them, and said, — " I must correct you all, gentle- 
 men ; Mr. Yellowplush is no other than Mr. Yellowplush : he 
 gave you, my dear Bullwig, your last glass of champagne at 
 dinner, and is now an inmate of my house, and an ornament of 
 my kitchen ! " 
 
 "Gad ! " says Doublejowl, "let's have him up." 
 
 " Hear, hear ! " says Bagwig. 
 
 "Ah, now," says Larner, "your grace is not going to call up 
 and talk to a footman, sure ? Is it gintale ? " 
 
 " To say the least of it," says Bullwig, " the pwactice is 
 iwwegular and indecowous ; and I weally don't see how the 
 interview can be in any way pwofitable." 
 
 But the vices of the company went against the two littery 
 men, and everybody excep them was for having up poor me. 
 The bell was wrung ; butler came. " Send up Charles," says 
 master ; and Charles, who was standing behind the skreand, 
 was persnly abliged to come in. 
 
 " Charles," says master, " I have been telling these gentle- 
 men who is the author of the ' Yellowplush Correspondence' in 
 Fraser's Magazine" 
 
 " It's the best magazine in Europe," says the duke. 
 
 " And no mistake," says my lord. 
 
 " Hwhat ! " says Larner ; " and where's the Litherary 
 Chran ? " 
 
 I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like 
 pickle-cabbitch. 
 
 " Mr. Yellowplush," says his grace, " will you, in the first 
 place, drink a glass of wine ? " 
 
 I boughed agin. 
 
 " And what wine do you prefer, sir ? humble port or imperial 
 burgundy ? " 
 
 "Why, your grace," says I, "I know my place, and ain't 
 above kitchin wines. I will take a glass of port, and drink it to 
 the health of this honrabble compny." 
 
 When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his grace himself 
 did me the honor to pour out for me, there was a silints for a 
 minnit ; when my master said : — 
 
 " Charles Yellowplush, I have perused your memoirs in 
 Frasers Magazine with so much curiosity, and have so high an 
 
S o6 THE MEMOIRS OF MR, C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 opinion of your talents as a writer, that I really cannot keep you 
 as a footman any longer, or allow you to discharge duties for 
 which you are now quite unfit. With ail my admiration for your 
 talents, Mr. Yellowplush, I still am confident that many of your 
 friends in the servants'-hall will clean my boots a great deal 
 better than a gentleman of your genius can ever be expected to 
 clo — it is for this purpose I employ footmen, and not that they 
 may be writing articles in magazines. But — you need not look 
 so red, my good fellow, and had better take another glass of 
 port — I don't wish to throw you upon the wide world without 
 the means of a livelihood, and have made interest for a little 
 place which you will have under Government, and which will 
 give you an income of eighty pounds per annum ■ which you can 
 double, I presume, by your literary labors." 
 
 " Sir," says I, clasping my hands, and bursting into tears, 
 " do not — for heaven's sake, do not ! — think of any such think, 
 or drive me from your suvvice, because I have been fool enough 
 to write in magaseens. Glans but one moment at your honor's 
 plate — every spoon is as bright as a mirror ; condysend to igs- 
 amine your shoes — your honor may see reflected in them the 
 fases of every one in the company. / blacked them shoes, / 
 cleaned that there plate. If occasionally I've forgot the foot- 
 man in the litterary man, and committed to paper my remindi- 
 cences of fashnabble life, it was from a sincere desire to do 
 good, and promote nollitch : and I appeal to your honor, — I 
 lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase of this noble company 
 beg you to say, When you rung your bell, who came to you 
 fust ? When you stopt out at Brooke's till morning, who sat up 
 for you ? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of 
 his station, and answered the two-pair bell ? Oh, sir," says I, 
 " I know what's what ; don't send me away. I know them 
 littery chaps, and, beleave me, I'd rather be a footman. The 
 work's not so hard — the pay is better : the vittels incompyrably 
 supearor. I have but to clean my things, and run my errints, 
 and you put clothes on my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir ! 
 Mr. Bullwig ! an't I right? shall I quit my station and sink — 
 that is to say, rise — to yours ? " 
 
 Bullwig was violently affected ; a tear stood in his glisten- 
 ing i. " Yellowplush," says he, seizing my hand, " you are right. 
 Quit not your present occupation ; black boots, clean knives, 
 wear plush, all your life, but don't turn literary man. Look at 
 me. I am the first novelist. I have ranged with eagle wing 
 over the wide regions of literature, and perched on every 
 eminence in its turn. I have gazed with eagle eyes on the sun 
 
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S A JEW. 
 
 5°7 
 
 of philosophy, and fathomed the mysterious depths of the 
 human mind. All languages are familiar to me, all thoughts 
 are known to me, all men understood by me. I have gathered 
 wisdom from the honeyed lips of Plato, as we wandered in the 
 gardens of Acadames — wisdom, too, from the mouth of Job 
 Johnson, as we smoked our 'backy in Seven Dials. Such must 
 be the studies, and such is the mission, in this world, of the 
 Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledge is only emptiness ; the 
 imitation is but misery ; the initiated, a man shunned and 
 bann'd by his fellows. Oh," said Bullwig, clasping his hands, 
 and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, " the curse of 
 Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment 
 pursue them from genewation to genewation ! Wo to genius, the 
 heaven-sealer, the fire-stealer ! Wo and thrice bitter desola- 
 tion ! Earth is the wock on which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches 
 his withing victim — men, the vultures that feed and fatten on 
 him. Ai, Ai ! it is agony eternal — gwoaning and solitawy 
 despair ! And you, Yellowplush, would penetwate these myste- 
 wies : you would waise the awful veil, and stand in the twemen- 
 dous Pwesence. Beware ; as you value your peace, beware ; 
 Withdwaw, wash Neophyte ! For heaven's sake — O for heaven's 4 
 sake ! — " here he looked round with agony — " give me a glass 
 of bwandy-and-water, for this clawet is beginning to disagwee 
 with me." 
 
 Bullwig having concluded this spitch, very much to his own 
 sattasfackshn, looked round to the compny for aplaws, and 
 then swigged off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a solium 
 sigh as he took the last gulph ; and then Doctor Ignatius, who 
 longed for a chans, and, in order to show his independence, 
 began flatly contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the 
 rest of the genlmn present, in the following manner : 
 
 " Hark ye," says he, " my gossoon, doan't be led asthray 
 by the nonsinse of that divil of a Bullwig. He's jillous of ye, 
 my bhoy : that's the rale, undoubted thruth ; and it's only to 
 keep you out of litherary life that he's palavering you in this 
 way. I'll tell you what — Plush ye blackguard, — my honorable 
 friend the mimber there has told me a hunder times by the 
 smallest computation, of his intense, admiration of your talents, 
 and the w r onderful sthir they were making in the world. He 
 can't bear a rival. He's mad with envy, hatred, oncharatable- 
 ness. Look at him, Plush, and look at me. My father was 
 not a juke exactly, nor aven a markis, and see, nevertheliss, to 
 what a pitch I am come. I spare no ixpinse ; I'm the iditor 
 of a cople of pariodicals ; I dthrive about in me carridge ; I 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 dine wid the lords of the land ; and why — in the name of the 
 piper that pleed before Mosus, hwy ? Because I'm a litherary 
 man. Because I know how to play me cards. Because I'm 
 Docther Larner, in fa"ct, and mimber of every society in and 
 out of Europe. I might have remained all my life in Thrinity 
 Colledge, and never made such an incom as that offered you 
 by Sir Jan ; but I came to London — to London, my boy, and 
 now see ! Look again at me friend Bullwig. He is a gentle- 
 man, to be sure, and bad luck to 'im, say I ; and what has been 
 the result of his litherary labor ? Ill tell you what ; and I'll 
 tell this gintale society, by the shade of Saint Patrick, they're 
 going to make him a barinet." 
 
 " A Barnet, Doctor ! " says I ; " you don't mean to say 
 they're going to make him a barnet ! " 
 
 " As sure as I've made meself a docthor," says Larner. 
 
 " What, a baronet, like Sir John ? " 
 
 "The divle a bit else." 
 
 " And pray what for ? " 
 
 " What faw ? " says Bullwig. " Ask the histowy of litwatuwe 
 what faw ? Ask Colburn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley, 
 ask the gweat Bwitish nation, what faw ? The blood in my 
 veins comes puwified thwough ten thousand years of chival- 
 wous ancestwy ; but that is neither here nor there : my political 
 principles — the equal wights which I have advocated — the 
 gweat cause of fweedom that I have celebwated, are known to 
 all. But this, I confess, has nothing to do with the question. 
 No, the question is this — on the thwone of liteweture I stand 
 unwivalled, pwe-eminent ; and the Bwitish government, holl- 
 owing genius in me, compliments the Bwitish nation by lifting 
 into the bosom of the heweditawy nobility the most gifted 
 member of the democwacy." (The honrabble genlm here sunk 
 down amidst repeated cheers.) 
 
 "Sir John," says I, " and my lord duke, the words of my 
 rivrint frend Ignatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn 
 who has just sate down, have made me change the detummin- 
 ation which I had the honor of igspressing just now. 
 
 " I igsept the eighty pound a year ; knowing that I shall 
 have plenty r>f time for pursuing my littery career, and hoping 
 some day to set on that same bentch of barranites, which is 
 deckarated by the presnts of my honrabble friend. 
 
 " Why shooden I ? It's trew I ain't done anythink as yet to 
 deserve such an honor ; and it's very probable that I never 
 shall. But what then ? — quaw dong, as our friends say ? I'd 
 much rayther have a coat-of-arms than a coat of livry. I'd 
 
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S A JEW. 
 
 5°9 
 
 much rayther have my blud-red hand spralink in the middle of 
 a shield, than underneath a tea-tray. A barranit I will be ; 
 and, in consiquints, must cease to be a footmin. 
 
 "As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't 
 settled : they are, I know, necessary: but they ain't necessary 
 until askt for; besides, I reglar read the Sattarist newspaper, 
 and so ignirince on this pint would be inigscusable. 
 
 " But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a 
 barranit, and another a capting in the navy, and another a 
 countess, and another the wife of a governor of the Cape of 
 Good Hope, I begin to perseave that the littery trade ain't 
 such a very bad un ; igspecially if you're up to snough, and 
 know what's o'clock. I'll learn to make myself usefle, in the 
 fust place; then I'll larn to spell; and, I trust, by reading the 
 novvles of the honrabble member, and the scientafick treatiseses 
 of the reverend doctor, I may find the secrit of suxess, and git 
 a litell for my own share. I've sevral frends in the press, 
 having paid for many of those chaps' drink, and given them 
 other treets ; and so I think I've got all the emilents of suxess ; 
 therefore, I am detummined, as I said, to igsept your kind 
 offer, and beg to withdraw the wuds which I made yous of 
 when I refyoused your hoxpatable offer. I must, however — " 
 
 " I wish you'd withdraw yourself," said Sir John, bursting 
 into a most igstrorinary rage, " and not interrupt the company 
 with your infernal talk ! Go down, and get us coffee : and, 
 heark ye ! hold your impertinent tongue, or I'll break every 
 bone in your body. You -shall have the place, as I said ; and 
 while you're in my service, you shall be my servant ; but you 
 don't stay in my service after to-morrow. Go down stairs, sir ; 
 and don't stand staring here ! " 
 
 ^Z- ~\Lr OA. Jfcj AL 
 
 *7V •TV* *TT •7T -7T *7T 
 
 In this abrupt way, my evening ended : it's with a melan- 
 choly regret that I think what came of it. I don't wear plush 
 any more. . I am an altered, a wiser, and, I trust, a better man. 
 
 I'm about a novvle (having made great progriss in spelling), 
 in the style of my friend Bullwig ; and preparing for publiga- 
 tion, in the Doctor's Cyclopedear, " The Lives of Eminent 
 Brittish and Foring Wosherwomen." 
 
 33 
 
5io THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DIARY OF 
 GEORGE IV." 
 
 CHARLES YELLOWPLUSH, ESQ., TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQ.* 
 
 Dear Why, — Takin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, 
 Sir John and me (who is a member of parlyment) had gone 
 down to our place in Yorkshire for six weeks, to shoot grows 
 and woodcox, and enjoy old English hospitalaty. This ugly 
 Canady bisniss unluckaly put an end to our sports in the coun- 
 try, and brot us up to Buckly Square as fast as four posterses 
 could gallip. When there, I found your parcel, containing the 
 two vollumes of a new book ; witch, as I have been away from 
 the literary world, and emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have 
 been laying neglected in my pantry, among my knife-cloaths, 
 and dekanters, and blacking-bottles, and bedroom candles, and 
 things. 
 
 This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the 
 work. I see sefral of the papers and magazeens have been 
 befoarhand with me, and have given their apinions concerning 
 it ; specially the Quotly Revew, which has most mussilessly cut 
 to peases the author of this Dairy of the Times of George IVj\ 
 
 That it's a woman that wrote it is evydent from the style of 
 the writing, as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. 
 Most suttnly a femail wrote this Dairy ; but who this Dairy- 
 maid may be, I, in coarse, can't conjecter : and, indeed, com- 
 mon galliantry forbids me to ask. I can only judge of the 
 book itself ; which, it appears to me, is clearly trenching upon 
 my ground and favrite subjicks, viz., fashnabble life, as igsibited 
 in the houses of the nobility, gentry, and rile f ammly. 
 
 But I bare no mallis — infamation is infamation, and it 
 doesn't matter where the infamy comes from ; and whether the 
 Dairy be from that distinguished pen to witch it is ornarily 
 attributed — whether, I say, it comes from a lady of honor to 
 
 * These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser^s Magazine, and it may be stated 
 for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters, that " Oliver Yorke " is the assumed name 
 of the editor of that periodical. 
 
 t Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed with Original 
 Letters from the late Qticeti Caroline, and from various other distinguished Persons* 
 
 " Tot ou tard, tout se scait." — Main tenon. 
 
 In 2 vols. London, 1S38. Henry Colburn. 
 
SKIMMINGS FROM THE "DIARY OF GEORGE IV." 511 
 
 the late quean, or a scullion to that diffunct majisty, no matter : 
 all we ask is nollidge ; never mind how we have it. Nollidge, 
 as our cook says, is like trikel-possit — it's always good, though 
 you was to drink it out of an old shoo. 
 
 Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur 
 my pussonal intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to 
 say in my private memoars — though many, many guineas, is 
 taken from my pockit, by cuttin short the tail of my narratif — 
 though much that I had to say in souperior languidge, greased 
 with all the ellygance of my orytory, the benefick of my classcle 
 reading, the chawms of my agreble wit, is thus abruply brot 
 befor the world by an inferior genus, neither knowing nor 
 writing English ; yet I say, that nevertheless I must say, 
 what I am puffickly prepaired to say, to gainsay which no 
 man can say a word — yet I say, that I say I consider this 
 publication welkom. Far from viewing it with enfy, I greet 
 it with applaws ; because it increases that most exlent spe- 
 cious of nollidge, I mean " Fashnabble Nollidge : " com- 
 payred to witch all other nollidge is nonsince — a bag of goold 
 to a pare of snuffers. 
 
 Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or 
 say what he had tu say better? We are marters, both of us, to 
 prinsple ; and every body who knows eather knows that we 
 would sacrafice anythink rather than that. Fashion is the 
 goddiss I adoar. This delightful work is an orTring on her 
 srine ; and as sich all her wushippers are bound to hail it. 
 Here is not a question of trumpry lords and honrabbles, 
 generals and barronites, but the crown itself, and the king 
 and queen's actions ; witch may be considered as the crown 
 jewels. Here's princes, and grand-dukes and airsparent, and 
 heaven knows what; all with blood-royal in their veins, and 
 their names mentioned in the very fust page of the peeridge. 
 In this book you become so intmate with the Prince of Wales, 
 that you may follow him, if you please, to his marridge-bed ; 
 or, if you prefer the Princiss Charlotte r you may have with her 
 an hour's tator-tator. # 
 
 Now, though most of the remarkable extrax from this 
 book have been given already (the cream of the Dairy, as I 
 wittily say), I shall trouble you, nevertheless, with a few ; partly 
 because they can't be repeated too often, and because the toan 
 of. obsyvation with which they have been genrally received by 
 the press is not igsackly such as I think they merit. How, in* 
 
 * Our estimable correspondent means, we presume, tete-a-tete. — O. Y. 
 
512 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 deed, can these common magaseen and newspaper pipple know 
 anything of fashnabble life, let alone ryal ? 
 
 Conseaving, then, that the publication of the Dairy has 
 done reel good on this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, 
 I shall look through it, for the porpus of selecting the most 
 ellygant passidges, and which I think may be peculiarly adapted 
 to the reader's benefick. 
 
 For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, that in the fust place, that 
 this is no common catchpny book, like that of most authors and 
 authoresses who write for the base looker of. gain. Heaven 
 bless you ! the Dairy-maid is above anything musnary. She is 
 a woman of rank, and no mistake ; and is as much above doin 
 a common or vulgar action as I am superaor to taking beer after 
 dinner with my cheese. She proves that most satisfackarily, as 
 we see in the following passidge : — 
 
 " Her royal highness came to me, and having spoken a few phrases on different sud- 
 jects, produced all the papers she wishes to have published: her whole correspondence with 
 
 the prince relative to Lady J 's dismissal; his subsequent neglect of the princess ; and, 
 
 finally, the acquittal of her supposed guilt, signed by the Duke of Portland, &c, at the" time 
 of the secret inquiry: when, if proof could have been brought against her, it certainly would 
 have been done ; and which acquittal, to the disgrace of all parties concerned, as well as to 
 the justice of the nation in general, was not made public at the time. A common criminal is 
 publicly condemned or acquitted. Her royal highness commanded me to have these letters 
 published forthwith, saying, 'You may sell them for a great sum.' At first (for she had 
 spoken to me before concerning this business), I thought of availing myself of the oppor- 
 tunity ; but upon second thoughts, I turned from this idea with detestation : for, if I do 
 wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavoring to serve her, I will do so at least from good 
 and disinterested motives, not from any sordid views. The princess commands me, and I 
 will obey her, whatever may be the issue ; but not for fare or fee. I own I tremble, not so 
 much for myself, as for the idea that she is not taking the best and most dignified way of 
 having these papers published. Why make a secret of it at all ? If wrong, it should not be 
 done ; if right it should be done openly, and in the face of her enemies. In her royal high- 
 ness's case, as in that of wronged princes in general, why do they shrink from straight- 
 forward dealings, and rather have recourse to crooked policy? I wish, in this particular in- 
 stance, I could make her royal highness feel thus: but she is naturally indignant at being 
 falsely accused, and will not condescend to an avowed explanation." 
 
 Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this ? The 
 Dairy-lady is quite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says 
 she, and no favior ! " I won't do behind my back what I am 
 ashamed of before my face : not I ! " No more she does ; for 
 you see that, though she was offered this manyscripby the prin- 
 cess for nothink, though she knew that she could actially get for 
 it a large sum of money, she was above it, like an honest, noble, 
 grateful, fashnabble woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, 
 and never will have recors to disguise orcrookid polacy. This 
 ought to be an ansure to them Radicle sneerers, who pretend 
 that they are the equals of fashnabble pepple ; whereas it's a 
 well-known fact, that the vulgar roagues have no notion of 
 honor. 
 
 And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her 
 
SKIMMINGS FROM THE ''DIARY OF GEORGE IV." 51 
 
 ladyship (long life to her ! I've often waited behind her chair !) 
 — after this posilif declaration, that, even for the porpus of 
 defending- her missis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse any think 
 like a peculiarly consideration, it is actially asserted in the pub- 
 lic prints by a booxeller, that he has given her a thousand pound 
 for the Dairy. A thousand pound ! nonsince ! — it's a phig- 
 ment ! a base lible ! This woman take a thousand pound, in a 
 matter where her dear mistriss, friend, and benyfactriss was 
 concerned ! Never ! A thousand baggonits would be more 
 prefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins and fashion. 
 
 But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote 
 some of my expearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge 
 was occasionally vulgar, and not such as is generally used in 
 those exquizzit famlies which I frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager 
 that there is in this book, wrote as all the world knows, by a 
 rele lady, and speakin of kings and queens as if they were as 
 common as sand-boys — there is in this book more wulgarity 
 than ever I displayed, more nastiness than ever I would dare 
 to think on, and more bad grammar than ever I wrote since I 
 was a boy at school. As for authografy, evry genlmn has his 
 own : never mind spellin, I say, so long as the sence is right. 
 
 Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this 
 charming lady of honor ; and a very nice corryspondent he is, 
 too, without any mistake : 
 
 "Lady O , poor Lady O ! knows the rules of prudence. I fear me, as im- 
 perfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin Grammars : or she hath let her brother, 
 who is a sad swine, become master of her secrets, and then contrived to quarrel with him. 
 You would see the outline of the melange in the newspapers ; but not the report that Mr. 
 
 S is about to publish a pamphlet, as an addition to the Harleian Tracts, setting forth 
 
 the amatory adventures of his sister. We shall break our necks in haste to buy it, of course 
 crying f Shameful ' al! the while ; and it is said that Lady O is to be cut, which I can- 
 not entirely believe. Let her tell two or three old women about town that they are young 
 and handsome, and give some well-timed parties, and she may still keep the society which 
 she hath been used to. The times are not so hard as they once were, when a woman could 
 not construe Magna Charta with anything like impunity. People were full as gallant many 
 years ago. But the days are gone by wherein my lord-protector of the commonwealth of 
 England was wont to go a love-making to Mrs. Fleetwood, with the Bible under his arm. 
 
 " And so Miss Jacky Gordon is really clothed with a husband at last, and Miss Laura 
 , Manners left without a mate ! She and Lord Stair should marry and have children, in mere 
 revenge. As to Miss Gorden, she's a Venus well suited for such a Vulcan, — whom nothing 
 but money and a title could have rendered tolerable, even to a kitchen wench. It is said that 
 the matrimonial correspondence between this couple is to be published, full of sad scandalous 
 relations, of which you may be sure scarcely a word is true. In former times, the Duchess 
 
 of St. A s made use of these elegant epistles in order to intimidate Lady Johnstone : 
 
 but that ruse would not avail ; so in spite, they are to be_ printed. _ What a cargo cf 
 amiab'e creatures! Yet will some people scarcely believe in the existence of Pande- 
 monium. 
 
 " Tuesday Morning. — You are perfectly right respecting the hot rooms here, which we 
 all cry out against, and all find very comfortable — much more so than the cold sands and 
 bleak neighborhood of the sea ; which looks vastly well in one of Vander Velde's pictures 
 
 hung upon crimson damask, but hideous and shocking in reality. H and his ' elle* 
 
 (talking of parties) were last night at Cholmondeley House, but seem not to ripen in their 
 love. He is certainly good-humored, and I believe, good-hearted, so deserves a good wife ; 
 but his cara seems a genuine London miss, made up of many affectations. Will she form a 
 
S i 4 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 comfortable helpmate ? For me, I like not her origin, and deem many strange things to 
 run in blood, besides madness and the Hanoverian evil. 
 
 " Thursday. — I verily do believe that I shall never get to the end of this small sheet 
 of paper, so many unheard of interruptions have I had ) and now I have been to Vauxhall, 
 
 and caught the toothache. I was of Lady E. B m and H 's party: very dull — 
 
 the Lady giving us all a supper after our promenade— 
 
 ' Much ado was there, God wot 
 She would love, but he would not' 
 
 He. ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it ; and she 'faisoit les yeux 
 doux ' enough not only to have melted all the ice which he swallowed, but his own hard 
 heart into the bargain. The thing will not do. In the meantime, Miss Long hath become 
 quite cruel to Wellesley Pole, and divides her favor equally between Lords Killeen and Kil- 
 worth, two as simple Irishmen as ever gave birth to a bull. I wish to Hymen that 
 she were fairly married, for all this pother gives one a disgusting picture of human 
 nature." 
 
 A disgusting pictur of human nature, indeed — and isn't he 
 who moralizes about it, and she to whom he writes, a couple of 
 pretty heads in the same piece ? Which, Mr. Yorke, is the wust, 
 the scandle or the scandle-mongers ? See what it is to be a 
 moral man of fashn. Fust, he scrapes togither all the bad 
 stoaries about all the people of his acquentance — he goes to a 
 ball, and laffs or snears at everybody there — he is asked to a 
 dinner, and brings away, along with meat and wine to his 
 heart's content, a sour stomick rilled with nasty stories of all 
 the people present there. He has such a squeamish appytite, 
 that all the world seem to disagree with him. And what has he 
 gotjo say to his dellicate female frend ? Why that — 
 
 Fust. Mr. S. is going to publish indescent stoaries about 
 Lady O , his sister, which everybody's going to by. 
 
 Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed with an 
 usband ; and that all their matrimonial corryspondins is to be 
 published too. 
 
 3. That Lord H. is going to be married ; but there's some- 
 thing rong in his wife's blood. 
 
 4. Miss Long has cut Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two 
 Irish lords. 
 
 Wooden you pliancy, now, that the author of such a letter, 
 instead of writin about pipple of tip-top qualaty, was describin 
 Vinegar Yard ? Would you beleave that the lady he was a-ritin 
 to was a chased, modist lady of honor, and mother of a family? 
 O trumpery / O morris ! as Homer says : this is a higeous 
 pictur of manners, such as I weap to think of, as evrymorl man 
 must weap. 
 
 The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashnabble life : 
 what follows is about families even higher situated than the 
 most fashnabble. Here we have the princess- regient, her 
 daughter the Princess Sharlot, her grandmamma the old quean, 
 
SKIMMINGS FROM THE "DIARY OF GEORGE IV" jij 
 
 and her madji sty's daughters the two princesses. If this is not 
 high life, I don't know where it is to be found ; and it's pleasing 
 to see what afleckshn and harmny rains in such an exolted 
 spear. 
 
 " Sunday z\th. — Yesterday, the princess went to meet the Princess Charlotte at Ken- 
 sington. Lady told me that, when the latter arrived, she rushed up to her mother, and 
 
 said, 1 For God's sake, be civil to her,' meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who followed her. 
 
 Lady said she felt sorry for the latter ; but when the Princess of Wales talked to her, 
 
 she soon became so free and easy, that one could not have any feeling about her feelings. 
 Princess Charlotte, I was told, was looking handsome, very pale, but her head more 
 becomingly dressed, — that is to say, less dressed than usual. Her figure is of that full 
 round shape which is now in its prime ; but she disfigures herself by wearing her boddice 
 so short, that she literally has no waist. Her feet are very pretty ; and so are her hands 
 and arms, and her ears, and the shape of her head. Her countenance is expressive, when 
 she allows her passions to play upon it ; and I never saw any face, with so little shade, 
 
 express so many powerful and varied ^motions. Lady told me that the Princess 
 
 Charlotte talked to her about her situation, and said, in a very quiet, but determined way, 
 she would not bear it, and that as soon as parliament met, she intended to come to Warwick 
 House, and remain there; that she was also determined not to consider the Duchess of 
 Leeds as her governess but only as her first lady. She made many observations on other 
 persons and subjects ; and appears to be very quick, very penetrating, but imperious and 
 wilful. There is a tone of romance, too, in her character, which will only serve to mislead 
 her. 
 
 " She told her mother that there had been a great battle at Windsor between the queen * 
 and the prince, the former refusing to give up Miss Knight from her own person to attend 
 on Princess Charlotte as sub-governess. But the prince-regent had gone to Windsor him- 
 self, and insisted on her doing so ; and the ' old Beguin ' was forced to submit, but has 
 been ill ever since : and Sir Henry Halford declared it was a complete breaking up of her 
 constitution — to the great delight of the two princesses, who were talking about this affair. 
 Miss Knight was the very person they wished to have ; they think they can do as they like 
 with her. It has been ordered that the Princess Charlotte should not see her mother alone 
 for a single moment ; but the latter went into her room, stuffed a pair of large shoes full 
 
 of papers, and having given them to her daughter, she went home. Lady told me 
 
 everything was written down and sent to Mr. Brougham next day.'''' 
 
 See what discord will creap even into the best regulated 
 families. Here are six of 'em — viz., the quean and her two 
 daughters, her son, and his wife and daughter; and the manner 
 in which they hate one another is a compleat puzzle. 
 
 Princess Charlotte hates her father. 
 Princess of Wales hates her husband. 
 
 The old quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death ; 
 and her two jewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a 
 happy, fashnabble, Christian famly ! O Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, 
 if this is the way in the drawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live 
 below, in pease and charaty with all men ; writin, as I am now, 
 in my pantry, or els havin a quite game at cards in the servants- 
 all. With us there's no bitter, wicked, quarling of this sort. 
 We don't hate our children, or bully our mothers, or wish 'em 
 ded when they're sick, as this Dairywoman says kings and 
 
 his mother. 
 
 The Prince hates 
 
 his daughter. 
 
gi6 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 queens do. When we're writing to our friends or sweethearts, 
 we don't fill our letters with nasty stoaries, takin away the 
 carricter of our fellow-servants, as this maid of honor's amusin' 
 moral frend does. But, in coarse, it's not for us to judge of 
 our betters ; — these great people are a supeerur race, and we 
 can't comprehend their ways. 
 
 Do you recklect — it's twenty years ago now — how a bewtiffle 
 princess died in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole 
 nation of Hengland wep, as though it was one man, over that 
 sweet woman and child, in which were sentered the hopes of 
 every one of us, and of which each was as proud as of his own 
 wife or infnt ? Do you recklect how pore fellows spent their 
 last shillin to buy a black crape for their hats, and clergymen 
 cried in the pulpit, and the whole country through was no better 
 than a great dismal funeral ? Do you reckiect, Mr. Yorke, who 
 was the person that we all took on so about ? We called her 
 the Princis Sharlot of Wales ; and we valyoud a single drop of 
 her blood more than the whole heartless body of her father. 
 Well, we looked up to her as a kind of saint or angle, and blest 
 God (such foolish loyal English pipple as we ware in those days) 
 who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us. But heaven 
 bless you ! it was only souperstition. She was no better than 
 she should be, as it turns out — or at least the Dairy-maid says 
 so. Xo better? — if my daughters or yours was \ so bad, we'd 
 as leaf be dead ourselves, and they hanged. But listen to this 
 pritty charritable story, and a truce to reflexshuns : — 
 
 "Sunday, January q, 1S14. — Yesterday, according to appointment, I went to Princess 
 Charlotte. Found at Warwick House the harp-player, Dizzi ; was asked to remain and 
 listen to his performance, but was talked to during the whole time, which completely pre- 
 vented all possibility of listening to the music. The Duchess of Leeds and her daughter 
 were in the room, but left it soon. Next arrived Miss Knight, who remained ail the time I 
 
 was there. Princess Charlotte was very gracious — showed me all her bonny dyes, as B 
 
 would have calied them — pictures, and cases, and jewels, &c. She talked in a very desul- 
 tory way, and it would be difficult to say of what. She observed her mother was in very 
 low spirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be otherwise ? This questioning 
 answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves two purposes — u e. avoids committing one- 
 self, or giving offence by silence. There was hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst 
 
 others, that very much resembled the Duke of D . I asked Miss Knight whom it 
 
 represented. She said that was not knowi ; it had been supposed a likeness if the Pre- 
 tender, when young. This answer suited my thoughts so comically I could have laughed, 
 if one ever did at courts anything but the contrary of what one was h elmed to do. 
 
 li Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in her countenances* play 
 of features, and a force of muscle, rarely seen in connection with such soft and shadeless 
 coloring. Her hands and arms are beautiful : but I think her figure is already gone, and will 
 soon be precisely like her mother's : in short it is the very picture of her, and not in minia- 
 ture. I could not help analyzing mv own sensations during the time I was with her, and 
 thought more of them than I did of her. Why was I at all flattered, at all more amused, at 
 all more supple to this young princess, than to her who is only the same sort of person set 
 in the shade of circumstances and of years? It is that youth, and the approach of power, 
 and the latent views of self-interest, sway the heart and dazz'e the understanding. If this 
 is so with a heart not, I trust, corrupt, and a head not particularly formed for interested 
 calculations, what effect must not the same causes produce on the generality of mankind ? 
 
 " In. the course of the conversation, the Princess Charlotte contrived to edge in a good 
 
SKIMMINGS FROM THE "DIARY OF GEORGE IV" g« 
 
 deal of tum-Je-dy, and would, if I had entered into the thing, have gone on with it, while 
 looking at a little picture of herself which had about thirty or forty different dresses to put 
 over it, done on isinglass, and which allowed the general coloring of the picture to be seen 
 through its transparency. It was, I thought, a pretty enough ccnceit, though rather like 
 dressing up a doll. ' Ah ! ' said MjSs Knight, ' I am not content though, madame — for I yet 
 should have liked one more dress — that of the favorite Sultanp.' 
 
 " ' No, no ! ' said the princess, * I never was a favorite, and never can be one,' — looking 
 at a picture which she said was her father's, but which I do not believe was done for the 
 regent any more than for me, but represented a young man in a huzzar's dress — probably 
 a former favorite. 
 
 -'The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice that was taken of her birth- 
 day. After keeping me for two hours and a half she dismissed me ; and I am sure I could 
 not say what she said, except that it was an olio of decousus and heterogenous things, par- 
 taking of the characteristics of her mother, grafted on a younger scion. I dined tcie-a-tete 
 with my dear old aunt : hers is always a sweet and soothing society to me." 
 
 There's a pleasing, lady-like, moral extract for you ! An 
 innocent young thing of fifteen has pictures of two lovers in her 
 room, and expex a good number more. This delligate young 
 creature edges in a good deal of tumdedy (I can't find it in John- 
 son's Dixonary), and would have gone on with the thing (elly- 
 gence of languidge), if the dairy-lady would have let her. 
 
 Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yorke, I doan't be leave a 
 single syllible of this story. This lady of honner says, in the 
 fust place, that the princess would have talked a good deal of 
 tumdedy : which means, I suppose, indeasnsy, if she, the lady 
 of honner would have let her. This is a good one ! Why, she 
 lets everybody else talk tumdedy to their hearts' content ; she 
 lets her friends write tumdedy, and, after keeping it for a quar- 
 ter of a sentry, she pri?its it. Why then, be so squeamish about 
 hearings little! And, then, there's the stoary of the two por- 
 tricks. This woman has the honner to be received in the 
 frendlyest manner by a British princess ; and what does the 
 grateful loyal creature do ? 2 picturs of the princess's relations 
 are hanging in her room, and the Dairy-woman swears away the 
 poor young princess's carrickter, by swearing they are picturs 
 of her lovers. For shame, oh, for shame ! you slanderin back- 
 bitin dairy-woman you! If you told all them things to your 
 " dear old aunt," on going to cline with her, you must have had 
 very " sweet and soothing society " indeed. 
 
 I had marked out many more extrax, which I intended to 
 Write about ; but I think I have said enough about this Dairy : 
 in fack, the butler, and the gals in the servants' hall are not 
 well pleased that I should go on reading this naughty book ; 
 so we'll have no more of it, only one passidge about Polly tics, 
 witch is sertnly quite new : — 
 
 " No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the Crown Prince, from the 
 intimate knowledge he possessed of his character. Bernadotte was also instigated against 
 Bonaparte by one who not only owed him a personal hatred, but who possessed a mind 
 equal to his, and who gave the Crown Prince both information and advice how to act. This 
 was no less a person than Madam de Stael. It was not, as some have asserted, that she 
 
5 1 8 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 was in love with Berjiadotte ; for at the time of their intimacy, Madame de Stdel was in 
 love ivith Rocca. But she used her influence (which was not small) with the Crown Prince, 
 to make him fight against Bonaparte, and to her wisdom may be attributed much of the 
 success which accompanied his attack upon him. Bernadotte has raised the flame of lib- 
 erty, which seems fortunately to blaze all around. May it liberate Europe ; and from the 
 ashes of the laurel may olive branches spring up, and overshadow the earth! " 
 
 " There's a discuvery ! that the overthrow of Boneypart is 
 owing to Madame de Stdel! What nonsince for Colonel 
 Southey or Doctor Napier to write histories of the war with 
 that Capsican hupstart and murderer, when here we have the 
 whole affair explained by the lady of honor ! 
 
 " Sunday ; April 10, 1814. — The incidents which take place every hour are miraculous. 
 Bonaparte is deposed, but alive ; subdued, but allowed to choose his place of residence. 
 The island of Elba is the spot he has selected for his ignominious retreat. France is hold- 
 ing forth repentant arms to her banished sovereign. The Poissardes who dragged Louis 
 XVI. to the scaffold are presenting flowers to the Emperor of Russia, the restorer of their 
 legitimate king! What a stupendous field for philosophy to expatiate in! What an end- 
 less material for thought ! What humiliation to the pride of mere human greatness ! How 
 are the mighty fallen ! Of all that was great in Napoleon, what remains ? Despoiled of 
 his usurped power, he sinks into insignificance. There was no moral greatness in the man. 
 The meteor dazzled, scorched, is put out, — utterly, and for ever. But the power which 
 rests in those who have delivered the nations from bondage is a power that is delegated to 
 them from heaven ; and the manner in which they have used it is a guarantee for its con- 
 tinuance. The Duke of Wellington has gained laurels unstained by any uselers flow cf 
 blood. He has done more than conquer others — he has conquered himself : and in the midst 
 of the blaze and flush of victory, surrounded by the homage of nations, he has not been be- 
 trayed into the commission of any act cf cruelty or wanton offence. He was as cool and self- 
 possessed under the blaze and dazzle of fame as a common man would be under the shade 
 of his garden-tree, or by the hearth of his home. But the tyrant who kept Europe in awe 
 is now a pitiable object for scorn to point the finger of derision at : and humanity shudders 
 as it remembers the scourge with which this man's ambition was permitted to devastate 
 every home tie, and every heartfelt joy." 
 
 And now, after this sublime passidge, as full of awfle reflec- 
 tions and pious sentyments as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I 
 shall only quot one little extrak more : — 
 
 M All goes gloomily with the poor princess. Lady Charlotte Campbell told me she 
 regrets not seeing ail these cu i:>us personages ; but she says, the more the princess is 
 foresaken, the more happy she is at having offered to attend her at this time. This is very 
 amiable in her, and cannot fail to be gratifying to the princess." 
 
 So it is — very amiable, very kind and considerate in her, 
 indeed. Poor Princess ! how lucky you was to find a frend 
 who loved you for your own sake, and when all the rest of the 
 wuld turned its back kep steady to you. As for believing that 
 Lady Sharlot had any hand in this book,* heaven forbid ! she 
 is all gratitude, pure gratitude, depend upon it. She would 
 not go for to blacken her old frend and patron's carrickter, 
 after having been so outrageously faithful to her ; she wouldn't 
 do it, at no price, depend upon it. How sorry she must be that 
 others an't quite so squemish, and show up in this indesent way 
 the follies of her kind, genrus, foolish bennyfactris ! 
 
 * The "authorized" announcement, in the John Bull newspaper, sets this question at 
 rest. It is declared that her ladyship is not the writer of the Dairy. — O. Y. 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATE 
 
 EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 
 
 CH-S Y-LL-WPL-SH, ESQ., TO SIR EDWARD LYTTON BULWER, BT. 
 JOHN THOMAS SMITH, ESQ., TO C S Y H, ESQ. 
 
 NOTUS. 
 
 The suckmtansies of the following harticle are as folios : — 
 Me and my friend, the sellabrated Mr. Smith, reckonized each* 
 other in the Haymarket Theatre, during the performints of the 
 new play. I was settn in the gallery, and sung out to him (he 
 was in the pit), to jine us after the play, over a glass of bear 
 and a cold hoyster, in my pantry, the family being out. 
 
 Smith came as appinted. We descorsed on the subjick of 
 the comady ; and, after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to 
 write a letter to the other, giving our notiums of the pease. 
 Paper was brought that momint ; and Smith writing his harticle 
 across the knife-bord, I dasht off mine on the dresser. 
 
 Our agreement was, that I (being remarkable for my style 
 of riting) should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take 
 up with the plot of the play ; and the candied reader will pard- 
 ing me for having holtered the original address of my letter, 
 and directed it to Sir Edward himself ; and for having incop- 
 perated Smith's remarks in the midst of my own : — 
 
 May/air, Nov. 30, 1839. Midnite. 
 
 Honrabble Barnet ! — Retired from the littery world a 
 year or moar, I didn't think anythink would injuce me to come 
 forrards again • for I was content with my share of reputation, 
 and propoas'd to add nothink to those immortial wux which 
 have rendered this Magaseen so sallybrated. 
 
 Shall I tell you the reazn of my reappearants ? — a desire 
 for the benefick of my fellow-creatures ? Fiddlestick ! A 
 mighty truth with which my busm labored, and which I must 
 bring forth or die ? Nonsince — stuff : money's the secret, my 
 dear Barnet, — -money — Vargong, gelt, spicunia. Here's quarter- 
 day coming, and I'm blest if I can pay my landlud, unless I 
 can ad hartihcially to my inkum. 
 
 This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to 
 blacard the streets with it, or to tell the British public that 
 
52 o THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 Fitzroy Y-ll-wpl-sh is short of money, or that the sallybrated 
 
 hauthor of the Y Papers is in peskewniary difficulties, or 
 
 is fiteaguecl by his superhuman littery labors, or by his famly 
 suckmstansies, or by any other pusnal matter : my maxim, dear 
 B, is on these pints to be as quiet as posbile. What the juice 
 does the public care for you or me ? Why must we always, in 
 prefizzes* and what not, be a-talking about ourselves and our 
 igstrodnary merrats, woas, and injaries ? It is on this subjick 
 that I porpies, my dear Barnet, to speak to you in a frendly 
 way ; and praps you'll find my advise tolrabbly holesum. 
 
 Well, then, — if you care about the apinions, fur good or 
 evil, of us poor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I 
 like you, Barnet. I've had my fling at you in my day (for, 
 entry nou, that last stoary I roat about you and Larnder was as 
 big a bownsir as ever was) — I've had my fling at you ; but I 
 like you. One may objeck to an immence deal of your writ- 
 ings, which, betwigst you and me, contain more sham scenti- 
 ment, sham morallaty, sham poatry, than you'd like to own ; 
 but, in spite of this, there's the stuff in you : you've a kind and 
 loyal heart in you, Barnet: — a trifle deboshed, perhaps ; a kean 
 i, igspecially for what's comic (as for your tradgady, it's mighty 
 flatchulent), and a ready plesnt pen. The man who says you 
 are an As is an As himself. Don't believe him, Barnet ! not 
 that I suppose you wil, — for, if I've formed a correck apinion 
 of you from your wucks, you think your small-beear as good as 
 most men's : every man does, — and why not ? We brew, and 
 we love our own tap — amen ; but the pint betwigst us, is this 
 stewpid, absudd way of crying out, because the public don't 
 like it too. Why shood they, my dear Barnet ? You may vow 
 that they are fools ; or that the critix are your enemies ; or that 
 the wuld should judge your poams by your critticle rules, and 
 not their own : you may beat your breast, and vow you are a 
 marter, and you won't mend the matter. Take heart, man ! 
 you're not so misrabble after all : your spirits need not be so 
 very cast down ; you are not so very badly paid. I'd lay a 
 wager that you make, with one thing or another — plays, novvles, 
 pamphlicks, and little odd jobbs here and there — your three 
 thowsnd a year. There's many a man, dear Bullwig, that works 
 for less, and lives content. Why shouldn't you ? Three 
 thowsnd a year is no such bad thing, — let alone the barnetcy : 
 it must be a great comfort to have that bloody hand in your 
 skitching. 
 
 But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, 
 and fond of a joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints, 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITER A 77 
 
 — this ceaseless groning, and moning, and wining of yours, is 
 igsackly the thing which makes people laff and snear more ? 
 If you were ever at a great school, you must recklect who was 
 the boy most bullid, and buffitid, and purshewd — he who minded 
 it most. He who could take a basting got but few ; he who 
 rord and wep because the knotty boys called him nicknames, 
 was nicknamed wuss and wuss. I recklet there was at our 
 school, in Smithfield, a chap of this milksop, spoony sort, who 
 appeared among the romping, ragged fellers in a fine Banning 
 dressing-go wnd, that his mama had given him. That pore boy 
 was beaten in a way that his dear ma and aunts didn't know 
 him ; his fine fianning dressing-gownd was torn all to ribbings, 
 and he got no pease in the school ever after, but was abliged 
 to be taken to some other saminary, where, I make no doubt, 
 he was paid off igsactly in the same way. 
 
 Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet ? Mutayto 
 nominy — you know what I mean. You are the boy, and your 
 barnetcy is the dressing-gownd. You dress yourself out finer 
 than other chaps and they all begin to sault and hustle you • 
 it's human nature, Barnet. You show weakness, think of your 
 dear ma, mayhap, and begin to cry : it's all over with you ; the 
 whole school is at you — upper boys and under, big and little ; 
 the dirtiest little fag in the place will pipe out blaggerd names 
 at you, and take his pewny tug at your tail. 
 
 The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of 
 stowt shoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggy- 
 muffins. A good bold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, " Wha 
 dares meddle wi' me ? " When Scott got his barnetcy, for 
 instans, did any one of us cry out ? No, by the laws, he was 
 our master ; and wo betide the chap that said neigh to him ! 
 But there's barnets and barnets. Do you recklect that fine 
 chapter in " Squintin Durward," about the too fellos and cups, 
 at the siege of the bishop's castle ? One of them was a brave 
 warrier, and kep his cup ; they strangled the other chap — 
 strangled him, and laffed at him too. 
 
 With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice : 
 brazen it out. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of 
 schoolboys — childish, greedy, envius, holding by our friends, 
 and always ready to fight. What must be a man's conduck 
 among such ? He must either take no notis, and pass on my- 
 jastick, or else turn round and pummle soundly — one, two, 
 right and left, ding dong over the face and eyes; above all, 
 never acknowledge that he is hurt. Years ago, for instans 
 (we've no ill-blood, but only mention this by way of igsample), 
 
522 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 you began a sparring with this Magaseen. Law bless you, such 
 a ridicklus gaym I never see : a man so belaybord, beflustered, 
 bewolloped, was never known : it was the laff of the whole 
 town. Your intelackshsl natur, respected Barnet, is not fiz- 
 zickly adapted, so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You 
 must not indulge in combats with us course bullies of the 
 press : you have not the staminy for a reglar set-to. What, 
 then, is your plan ? In the midst of the mob to pass as quiet 
 as you can : you won't be undistubbed. Who is ? Some stray 
 kix and buffits will fall to you — mortial man is subjick to such ; 
 but if you begin to wins and cry out, and set up for a marter, 
 wo betide you ! 
 
 These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I 
 assure you, written in perflck good-natur, and have been 
 inspired by your play of the " Sea Capting," and prefiz to it ; 
 which latter is on matters intirely pusnal, and will, therefore, I 
 trust, igscuse this kind of ad homi?iam (as they say) diskcushion. 
 I propose, honrabble Barnit, to comsider calmly this play and 
 prephiz, and to speak of both with that honisty which, in the 
 pantry or studdy, I've been always phamous for. Let us, in 
 the first place, listen to the opening of the " Preface of the 
 Fourth Edition : " 
 
 " No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults and deficiencies to be found 
 in this play : but, perhaps, when it is considered how very rarely it has happened in the his- 
 tory of our dramatic literature that good acting plays have been produced, except by those 
 who have either been actors themselves, or formed their habits of literature, almost of life, 
 behind the scenes, I might have looked for a criticism more generous, and less exacting and 
 Vigorous, than that by which the attempts of an author accustomed to another class of com- 
 position have been received by a large proportion of the periodical press. 
 
 " It is scarcely possible, indeed, that this play should not contain faults of two kinds : 
 first, the faults of one who has necessarily much to learn in the mechanism of his art : and, 
 secondly, of one who, having written largely in the narrative style of fiction, may not un- 
 frequently mistake the effects of a novel for the effects of a drama. I may add to these, 
 perhaps, the deficiencies that arise from uncertain health and broken spirits, which render 
 the author more susceptible than he might have been some years since to that spirit of de- 
 preciation and hostility which it has been his misfortune to excite amongst the general con- 
 tributors to the periodical press ; for the consciousness that every endeavor will be made to 
 cavil, to distort, to misrepresent, and, in fine, if possible, to run down, will occasionally 
 haunt even the hours of composition, to check the inspiration, and damp the ardor. 
 
 " Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a hope that I may ultimately 
 do better, should I continue to write for the stage (with nothing but an assurance that, with 
 all my defects, I may yet bi in ; some little aid to the drama, at a time when my aid, how- 
 ever humble, ought to be weicome to the lovers of the art, could induce me to do), may I be 
 permitted to say a few words as to some of the objections which have been made against this 
 play?" 
 
 Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you 
 put forrards here, why your play shouldn't be good. 
 
 First. Good plays are almost always written by actors 
 
 Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition. 
 
 Third. You may be mistaken in your effects, being a 
 novelist by trade, and not a play-writer. 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 523 
 
 Fourthly. Your in such bad helth and sperrits. 
 Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your 
 arder. 
 
 For shame, for shame, man ! What confeshns is these, — 
 what painful pewling and piping ! Your not a babby. I take 
 you to be some seven or eight and thutty years old — "in the 
 morning of youth," as the flosofer says. Don't let any such 
 nonsince take your reazn prisoner. What you, an old hand 
 amongst us, — an old soljer of our sovring quean the press, — 
 you, who have had the best pay, have held the topmost rank 
 (ay, and deserved them too ! — I gif you lef to quot me in sasiaty, 
 and say, " I am a man of genius : Ylll-wpl-sh says so "), — you 
 to lose heart, and cry pickavy, and begin to howl, because little 
 boys fling stones at you ! Fie, man ! take courage; and, bear- 
 ing the terrows of youi blood-red hand, as the poet says, punish 
 us, if we've ofended you : punish us like a man, or bear your 
 own punishment like a man. Don't try to come off with such 
 misrabble lodgic as that above. 
 
 What do you ? You give four satisfackary reazns that the 
 play is bad (the secknd is naught, — for your no such chicking 
 at play-writing, this being the forth). You show that the play 
 must be bad, and the?i begin to deal with the critix for finding 
 f olt ! 
 
 Was there ever wuss generalship ? The play is bad, — your 
 right, — a wuss I never see or read. But why kneed you say 
 so ? If it was so very bad, why publish it ? Because you wish 
 to serve the drama / O fie ! don't lay that flattering function to 
 your sole, as Milton observes. Do you believe that this " Sea 
 Capting " can serve the drama ? Did you never intend that it 
 should serve anything, or anybody else / Of cors you did ! 
 You wrote it for money, — money from the maniger, money 
 from the bookseller, — for the same reason that I write this. 
 Sir, Shakspeare wrote for the very same reasons, and I never 
 heard that he bragged about serving the drama. Away with 
 this canting about great motifs ! Let us not be too prowd, my 
 dear Barnet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth, marters 
 or apostels. We are but tradesmen, working for bread, and 
 not for righteousness' sake. Let's try and work honestly ; but 
 don't let us be prayting pompisly about our " sacred calling." 
 The taylor who makes your coats (and very well they are made 
 too, with the best of velvit collars) — I say Stulze, or Nugee, 
 might cry out that their motifs were but to assert the eturnle 
 truth of tayloring, with just as much reazn ; and who would 
 believe them ? 
 
524 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 Well ; after this acknollitchmint that the play is bad, come 
 sefral pages of attack on the critix, and the folt those gentry 
 have found with it. With these I shan't middle for the presnt. 
 You defend all the characters 1 by 1, and conclude your 
 remarks as follows : — 
 
 " I must be pardoned for this disquisition on my own designs. When every means is 
 employed to misrepresent, it becomes, perhaps, allowable to explain. And if I do not think 
 that my faults as a dramatic author are to be found in the study and delineation of character, 
 it is precisely because that is the point on which all my previous pursuits in literature and 
 actual life would be most likelv to preserve me from the errors I own elsewhere, whether of 
 misjudgment or inexperience. 
 
 " I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal and talent with which they 
 have embodied the characters entrusted to them. The sweetness and grace with which 
 Miss Faucit embellished the part of Violet, which, though only a sketch, is most necessary 
 to the coloring and harmony of the play, were perhaps the more pleasing to the audience 
 from the generosity, rare with actors, which induced her to take a part so far inferior to her 
 powers. The applause which attends the performance of Mrs. Warner and Mr. Strickland 
 attests their success in characters of unusual difficulty ; while the singular beauty and noble- 
 ness, whether of conception or execution, with which the greatest of living actors has 
 elevated the part of Norman (so totally different from this ordinary range of character), is a 
 new proof of his versatility and accomplishment in all that belongs to his art. It would be 
 scarcely gracious to conclude these remarks without expressing my acknowledgment of that 
 generous and indulgent sense of justice which, forgetting all political difference in a literary 
 arena, has enabled me to appeal to approving audiences — from hostile critics. And it is this 
 which alone encourages me to hope that, sooner or later, I may add to the dramatic litera- 
 ture of my country something that may find, perhaps, almost as many friends in the next 
 age as it has been the fate of the author to find enemies in this." 
 
 See, now. what a good comfrabble vanaty is ! Pepple have 
 quarld with the dramatic characters of your play. " No," says 
 you ; " if I am remarkabble for anythink, it's for my study and 
 delineation of character ; that is presizely the pint to which my 
 littery purshuits have led me." Have you read " Jil Blaw," my 
 dear sir ? Have you pirouzed that exlent tragady, the " Critic ? " 
 There's something so like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and the 
 Archbishop of Granadiers, that I'm blest if I can't laff till my 
 sides ake. Think of the critix fixing on the very pint for which 
 you are f amus ! — the roags ! And spose they had said the plot 
 was absudd, or the langwitch absudder still, don't you think 
 you would have had a word in defens of them too — you who 
 hope to find f rends for your dramatic wux in the nex age ? 
 Poo ! I tell thee, Barnet, that the nex age will be wiser and 
 better than this ; and do you think that it will imply itself a 
 reading of your trajadies ? This is misantrofy, Barnet — reglar 
 Byronism \ and you ot to have a better apinian of human 
 natur. 
 
 Your apinion about the actors I sha'n't here meddle with. 
 They all acted exlently as far as my humbile judgement goes, 
 and your write in giving them all possible prays. But let's 
 consider the last sentence of the prefiz, my dear Barnet, and 
 see what a pretty set of apiniuns you lay down. 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 
 
 525 
 
 1. The critix are your inymies in this age. 
 
 2. In the nex, however, you hope to find newmrous f rends. 
 
 3. And it's a satisf ackshn to think that, in spite of politticle 
 diffrances, you have found frendly aujences here. 
 
 Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly 
 with what my friend Father Prout calls an argamantwn ad mise- 
 ricorjam, who ignowledges that his play is bad, that his pore 
 dear helth is bad, and those cussicl critix have played the juice 
 with him — I say, for a man who beginns in such a humbill 
 toan, it's rayther rich to see how you end. 
 
 My dear Barnet, do you suppose that politticle diffrances pre- 
 judice pepple against you ? What are your politix ? Wig, I 
 presume — so are mine, ontry noo. And what if they are Wig, 
 or Raddiccle, or Cumsuvvative ? Does any mortial man in 
 England care a phig for your politix ? Do you think yourself 
 such a mity man in parlymint, that critix are to be angry with 
 you, and aujences to be cumsidered magnanamous because 
 they treat you fairly ? There, now, was Sherridn, he who roat 
 the " Rifles " and " School for Scandle " (I saw the " Rifles " 
 after your play, and, O Barnet, if you knew what a relief -it was !) 
 — there, I say, was Sherridn — he was a politticle character, if 
 you please — he could make a spitch or two — do you spose that 
 Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag, old George the Third himself, 
 wooden go to see the " Rivles " — ay, and clap hands too, and 
 laff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery ? Do you spose the critix 
 wouldn't applaud too ? For shame, Barnet ! what ninnis, what 
 h artless raskles, you must beleave them to be, — in the fust 
 plase, to fancy that you are a politticle genus ; in the secknd, 
 to let your politix interfear with their notiums about littery 
 merits ! 
 
 " Put that nonsince out of your head," as Fox said to Bony- 
 part. Wasn't it that great genus, Dennis, that wrote in Swiff 
 and Poop's time, who fansid that the French king wooden 
 make pease unless Dennis was delivered up to him ? Upon my 
 wud, I doan't think he carrid his diddlusion much further than 
 a serting honrabble barnet of my aquentance. 
 
 And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another 
 diddlusion ; a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not 
 Y — sh. These plays immortial ! Ah, parrysatnpe, as the 
 French say, this is too strong — the small-beer of the " Sea 
 Capting," or of any suxessor of the " Sea Capting," to keep 
 sweet for sentries and sentries ! Barnet, Barnet ! do you know 
 the natur of bear ? Six weeks is not past, and here your last 
 casque is sour — the public won't even now drink it ; and I lay 
 
 34 
 
S2 6 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 a wager that, betwigst this day (the thuttieth November) and 
 the end of the year, the barl will be off the stox altogether, 
 never, never to return. 
 
 Vvr, notted down a few f razes here and there, which you 
 will da well do igsamin : — 
 
 NORMAN. « 
 
 (i The eternal Flora 
 Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind ; 
 While circling round and upwards from the boughs, 
 Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds, 
 Melody, like a happy soul released, 
 Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes 
 Shakes sweetness down ! " 
 
 NORMAN 
 
 " And these the lips 
 Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss 
 Of parting linger' d, as the fragrance left 
 By angels when they touch the earth and vanish." 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 " Hark ! she has blessed her son ! I bid ye witness, 
 Ye listening heavens — thou circumambient air : 
 The ocean sighs it back— and with the murmur 
 Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes 
 Aloud — aloft — to the Great Parent's ear 
 The blessing of the mother on her child." 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 " I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart 
 Mingled with mine — a deathless heritage, 
 Which I can take unsullied to the stars, 
 When the Great Father calls his children home.*' 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 " The blue air, breathless in the starry peace, 
 After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled 
 With happy thoughts as heaven with angels" 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 '* Till one calm night, when over earth and wave 
 Heaven looked its love from all its numberless stars. 11 * 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 "Those eyes, the guiding stars by which I steered." 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 " That great mother 
 (The only parent I have known), whose face 
 Is bright with gazing ever on the stars — 
 The mother-sea." 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 " My bark shall be our home ; 
 The stars that light the angel palaces 
 Of air, our lamps." 
 
 NORMAN. 
 
 " A name that glitters, like a star, amidst 
 The galaxy of England's loftiest born." 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI. 
 
 LADY ARUNDEL. 
 
 M And see him princeliest of the lion 'tribe, 
 
 Whose swords and Coronals gleam around the throne, 
 The guardian stars of the imperial isle." 
 
 The fust spissymen has been going the round of all the 
 papers, as real, reglar poatry. Those wickid critix ! they must 
 have been laffing in their sleafs when they quoted it. Malody, 
 suckling round and uppards from the bows, like a happy soul 
 released, hangs in the air, and from invizable plumes shakes 
 sweetness down. Mighty fine, truly ! but let mortial man tell 
 the meanink of the passidge. Is it musickle sweetniss that 
 Malody shakes down from its plumes — its wings, that is, or 
 tail — or some pekewliar scent that proceeds from happy souls 
 released, and which they shake down from the trees when they 
 are suckling round and uppards ? Is this poatry, Barnet ? 
 Lay your hand on your busm, and speak out boldly : Is it 
 poatry, or sheer windy humbugg, that sounds a little melojous, 
 and won't bear the commanest test of comman sence ? 
 
 In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though 
 in a more comprehensable way : the air, the leaves, the otion, 
 are fild with emocean at Capting Norman's happiness. Pore 
 Nature is dragged in to partisapate in his joy^, just as she has 
 been befor. Once in a poem, this universle simflthy is very 
 well ; but once is enuff, my dear Barnet : and that once should 
 be in some great suckmstans, surely, — such as the meeting of 
 Adam and Eve, in " Paradice Lost," or Jewpeter and Jewno, 
 in Hoamer, where there seems, as it were, a reasn for it. 
 But sea-captings should not be eternly spowting and invoking 
 gods, hevns, Starrs, angels, and other silestial influences. We 
 can all do it, Barnet ; nothing in life is easier. I can compare 
 my livry buttons to the stars, or the clouds of my backopipe to 
 the dark vollums that ishew from Mount Hetna ; or I can say 
 that angels are looking down from them, and the tobacco silf, 
 like a happy sole released, is circling round and upwards, and 
 shaking sweetness down. All this is as esy as drink ; but it's 
 not poatry, Barnet, nor natural. People, when their mothers 
 reckonize them, don't howl about the suckumambient air, and 
 paws to think of the happy leaves a-rustling — at least, one mis- 
 trusts them if they do. Take another instans out of your own 
 play. Capting Norman ("with his eternll slack-jaw /) meets the 
 gal of his art : — 
 
 " Look up, look up, my Violet —weeping ? fie ! 
 And trembling too — yet leaning on my breast. 
 In truth, thou art too soft for such rude shelter. 
 
528 THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSK. 
 
 Look up ! I come to woo thee to the seas, 
 My sailor's bride ! . Hast thou no voice but blushes ? 
 Nay — From those roses let me, like the bee. 
 Drag forth the secret sweetness ! " 
 
 VIOLET. 
 
 " Oh what thoughts 
 Were kept for speech when we once more should meet, 
 Now blotted from the page ; and all I feel 
 Is — thou art with me ! " 
 
 Very right, Miss Violet — the scentiment is natral, affeck- 
 shnit, pleasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle 
 languidge, and no harm done) ; but never mind, the feeling is 
 pritty ; and I can fancy, my dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, 
 weeping lass, looking up in a man's face and saying it. But 
 the capting ! — oh, this capting ! — this windy, spouting captain, 
 with his prittinesses, and conseated apollogies for the hardness 
 of his busm, and his old, stale, vapid simalies, and his wishes 
 to be a bee ! Pish ! Men don't make love in this nnniking 
 way. It's the part of a sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a gal- 
 liant gentleman, in command of one of her Madjisty's vessels 
 of war. 
 
 Look at the remaining extrac, honored Barnet, and acknol- 
 lidge that Captain Norman is eturnly repeating himself, with 
 his endless jabber about stars and angels. Look at the neat 
 grammaticle twist of Lady Arundel's spitch, too, who, in the 
 corse of three lines, has made her son a prince, a lion, with a 
 sword and coronal, and a star. Why jumble and sheak up 
 metafors in this way ? Barnet, one simily is quite enuff in the 
 best of sentenses (and I preshume I kneedn't tell you that it's 
 as well to have it Hke r when you are about it). Take my 
 advise, honrabble sir — listen to a humble footmin : it's genrally 
 best in poatry to understand puffickly what you mean yourself, 
 and to ingspress your meaning clearly afterwoods — in the 
 simpler words the better, praps. You may, for instans, call a 
 coronet a coronal if you like, as you might call a hat a " swart 
 sombrero," "a glossy four-and-nine," "a silken helm, to storm 
 impermeable, and lightsome as the breezy gossamer • " but, in 
 the long run, it as well to call it a hat. It is a hat : and that 
 name is quite as poetticle as another. I think it's Playto, or 
 els Harrystottle, who observes that what we call a rose by any 
 other name would smell as sweet. Confess, now, dear Barnet, 
 don't you long to call it a Polyanthus ? 
 
 I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry 
 you seem to have bean, that you have actially in some sentences 
 forgot to put in the sence. What is this, for instance ? — 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITER A TI. 
 
 529 
 
 M This thrice precious one 
 Smiled to my eyes — drew being from my breast- 
 Slept in my arms ; — the very tears I shed 
 Above my treasures were to men and angels 
 Alike such holy sweetness ! " 
 
 In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked — 
 Raphael, Gabriel, Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael — what does this " holy 
 sweetness " mean ? We're not spinxes to read such durk conan- 
 drums. If you knew my state sins I came upon this passidg — 
 I've neither slep nor eton ; I've neglected my pantry ; I've 
 been wandring from house to house with this riddl in my hand, 
 and nobody can understand it. All Mr. Frazier's men are 
 wild, looking gloomy at one another, and asking what this may 
 be. All the cumtributors have been spoak to. The Doctor, 
 who knows every languitch, has tried and giv'n up ; we've sent 
 to Docter Pettigruel, who reads horyglifics a deal ezier than 
 my way of spellin' — no anser. Quick ! quick with a fifth edi- 
 tion, honored Barnet, and set us at rest ! While your about it, 
 please, too, to igsplain the two last lines : — 
 
 '1 His merry bark with England's flag to crown her." 
 
 See what dellexy of igspreshn, " a flag to crown her ! " 
 
 " His merry bark with England's flag tc crown her. 
 Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares." 
 
 Likewise the following : — 
 
 " Girl, beware,- 
 The love that trifles round the charms it gilds 
 Oft ruins while it shines." 
 
 Igsplane this, men and angels ! I've tried every way ; back- 
 ards, forards, and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus : — 
 
 The love that ruins round the charms it shines, 
 Gilds while it trifles oft ; 
 
 Or, 
 
 The charm that gilds around the love it ruins, 
 Oft trifles while it shines ; 
 
 Or, 
 
 The ruins that love gilds and shines around, 
 Oft trifles where it charms ; 
 
 Or, 
 
 Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft, 
 The trifles that it gilds ; 
 
 Or, 
 
 The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft, 
 While round the charms it shines. 
 
 All which are as sensable as the fust passidge. 
 
 And with this I'll allow my friend Smith, who has been 
 silent all this time, to say a few words. He has not written 
 near so much as me (being an infearor genus, betwigst our- 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 selves), but he says he never had such mortial difficklty with 
 anything as with the dixcripshn of the plott of your pease. Here 
 his letter : — 
 
 To Ch-rl-s F-tzr-y Pl-nt-g-n-t Y-ll-v/pl-sh, Esq., &c, &c. 
 
 30/// Nov., 1839. 
 My dear and honored Sir, — I have the pleasure of lay- 
 ing before you the following description of the plot, and a few 
 remarks upon the style of the piece called " The Sea Captain." 
 
 Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Arundel had a 
 daughter, heiress of his estates and property ; a poor cousin, 
 Sir Maurice Beevor (being next in succession) ; and a page., 
 Arthur Le Mesnil by name. 
 
 The daughter took a fancy for the page, and the young per- 
 sons were married unknown to his lordship. 
 
 Three days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that 
 period favorable for travelling), the young couple had agreed 
 to run away together, and had reached a chapel near on the 
 sea-coast, from which they were to embark, when Lord Arundel 
 abruptly put a stop to their proceedings by causing one Gaussen, 
 a pirate, to murder the page. 
 
 His daughter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in 
 three days gave birth to a son. Whether his lordship knew of 
 this birth I cannot say ; the infant, however, was never ac- 
 knowledged, but carried by Sir Maurice Beevor to a priest, 
 Onslow by name, who educated the lad and kept him for 
 cwelve years in profound ignorance of his birth. The boy went 
 by the name of Norman. 
 
 Lady Arundel meanwhile married again, again became a 
 widow, but had a second son, who w T as the acknowledged heir, 
 and called Lord Ashdale. Old Lord Arundel died, and her 
 ladyship became countess in her own right. 
 
 When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, 
 who wished to " waft young Arthur to a distant land," had him 
 sent on board ship. Who should the captain of the ship be 
 but Gaussen, who received a smart bribe from Sir Maurice 
 Beevor to kill the lad. Accordingly, Gaussen tied him to a 
 
 plank, and pitched him overboard. 
 
 # * * # * # 
 
 About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an 
 orphan niece of Lady Arundel's second husband, came to pass 
 a few weeks with her ladyship. She had just come from a sea 
 voyage, and had been saved from a wicked Algerine by an Eng- 
 lish sea captain. This sea captain was no other than Norman, 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 
 
 53 1 
 
 who had been picked up off his plank, and fell in love with, 
 and was loved by, Miss Violet. 
 
 A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt's the captain 
 came to pay her a visit, his ship anchoring off the coast, near 
 Lady Arundel's residence. By a singular coincidence, that 
 rogue Gaussen's ship anchored in the harbor too. Gaussen at 
 once knew his man, for he had " tracked " him (after drowning 
 him), and he informed Sir Maurice Beevor that young Norman 
 was alive. 
 
 Sir Maurice Beevor informed her ladyship. How should 
 she get rid of him ? In this wise. He was in love with Violet, 
 let him marry her and be off ; for Lord Ashdale was in love 
 with his cousin too ; and, of course, could not marry a young 
 woman in her station of life. " You have a chaplain on board," 
 says her ladyship to Captain Norman ; 16 let him attend to-night 
 in the ruined chapel, marry Violet, and away with you to sea." 
 By this means she hoped to be quit of him for ever. 
 
 But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by 
 Beevor, and reported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be 
 at the chapel and carry off Violet 5 as for Beevor, he sent 
 Gaussen to the chapel to kill both Ashdale and Norman : thus 
 there would only be Lady Arundel between him and the title. 
 
 Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the 
 chapel, had just seen his worthy old friend, the priest, most 
 barbarously murdered there. Sir Maurice Beevor had set 
 Gaussen upon him ; his reverence was coming with the papers 
 concerning Norman's birth, which Beevor wanted in order to 
 extort money from the countess. Gaussen was, however, 
 obliged to run before he got the papers ; and the clergyman 
 had time, before he died, to tell Norman the story, and give 
 him the documents, with which Norman sped off to the castle 
 to have an interview with his mother. 
 
 He lays his white cloak and hat on the table, and begs to 
 be left alone with her ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the 
 room, surlily quits it ; but, going out, cunningly puts on Nor- 
 man's cloak. " It will be dark," says he, " down at the chapel • 
 Violet won't know me ; and, egad ! I'll run off with her ! " 
 
 Norman has his interview. Her ladyship acknowledges 
 him, for she cannot help it ; but will not embrace him, love 
 him, or have anything to do with him. 
 
 Away he goes to the chapel. His chaplain was there wait- 
 ing to marry him to Violet, his boat was there to carry him on 
 board his ship, and Violet was there, too. 
 
 " Norman," says she, in the dark, " dear Norman, I knew 
 
THE MEMOIRS GF MR. C.J. YELLOWPLUSH. 
 
 you by your white cloak ; here I am." And she and the man 
 in a cloak go off to the inner chapel to be married. 
 
 There waits Master Gaussen ; he has seized the chaplain 
 and the boat's crew, and is just about to murder the man in the 
 cloak, when — 
 
 Norman rushes in and cuts him down, much to the surprise 
 of Miss, for she never suspected it was sly Ashdale who had 
 come, as we have seen, disguised, and very nearly paid for his 
 masquerading. 
 
 Ashdale is very grateful * but, when Norman persists in mar- 
 rying Violet, he says — no, he sha'n't. He shall right j he is a 
 coward if he doesn't fight. Norman flings down his sword, and 
 says he won't fight ; and — 
 
 Lady Arundel, who has been at prayers all this time, rush- 
 ing in, says, " Hold ! this is your brother, Percy — your elder 
 brother! " Here is some restiveness on Ashdale's part, but he 
 finishes by embracing his brother. 
 
 Norman burns all the papers ; vows he will never peach ; 
 reconciles himself with his mother ; says he will go loser ; but, 
 having ordered his ship to " veer " round to the chapel, orders 
 it to veer back again, for he will pass the honeymoon at Arun- 
 del Castle. 
 
 As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me 
 that there are one or two very good notions in this plot. But 
 the author does not fail, as he would modestly have us believe, 
 from ignorance of stage-business ; he seems to know too much, 
 rather than too little, about the stage ; to be too anxious to 
 cram in effects, incidents, perplexities. There is the perplexity 
 concerning Ashdale's murder, and Norman's murder, and the 
 priest's murder, and the page's murder, and Gaussen's murder. 
 There is the perplexity about the papers, and that about the 
 hat and cloak (a silly, foolish obstacle), which only tantalize 
 the spectator, and retard the march of the drama's action : it 
 is as if the author had said, " I must have a new incident in 
 every act, I must keep tickling the spectator perpetually, and 
 never let him off until the fall of the curtain." 
 
 The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of in- 
 trigue you may remark in the author's drama of " Richelieu." 
 " The Lady of Lyons " was a much simpler and better wrought 
 plot ; the incidents following each other either not too swiftly 
 or startlingly. In " Richelieu," it always seemed to me as if one 
 heard doors perpetually clapping and banging ; one was puzzled 
 to follow the train of conversation, in the midst of the perpetual 
 small noises that distracted one right and left. 
 
EPISTLES TO THE LITER A TI. 
 
 533 
 
 Nor is the list of characters of " The Sea Captain " to be 
 despised. The outlines of all of them are good. A mother, 
 for whom one feels a proper tragic mixture of hatred and pity ; 
 a gallant single-hearted son, whom she disdains, and who con- 
 quers her at last by his noble conduct; a dashing haughty 
 Tybalt of a brother ; a wicked poor cousin, a pretty maid, and 
 a fierce buccaneer. These people might pass three hours very 
 well on the stage, and interest the audience hugely • but the 
 author fails in filling up the outlines. His language is absurdly 
 stilted, frequently careless ; the reader or spectator hears a 
 number of loud speeches, but scarce a dozen lines that seem 
 to belong of nature to the speaker. 
 
 Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than 
 the continual sham-religious clap-traps which the author has put 
 into the mouth of his hero • nothing more unsailor-like than his 
 namby-pamby starlit descriptions, which my ingenious colleague 
 has, I see, alluded to. " Thy faith my anchor, and thine eyes 
 my haven/' cries the gallant captain to his lady. See how 
 loosely the sentence is constructed, like a thousand others in 
 the book. The captain is to cast anchor with the girl's faith in 
 her own eyes ; either image might pass by itself, but together, 
 like the quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they devour each other. The 
 captain tells his lieutenant to bid his bark veer round to a point 
 in the harbor. Was ever such language ? My lady gives Sir 
 Maurice a thousand pounds to waft him (her son) to some dis- 
 tant shore. Nonsense, sheer nonsense ; and what is worse, 
 affected nonsense ! 
 
 Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. " There is a great 
 deal of game on the estate — partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, 
 and plovers (smacking his lips) — besides a magnificent preserve 
 of sparrows, which I can sell to the little blackguards in the 
 streets at a penny a hundred. But I am very poor — a very 
 poor old knight ! " 
 
 Is this wit or nature ? It is a kind of sham wit ; it reads as 
 if it were wit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the 
 little blackguard boys ! what flimsy ecstasies and silly " smack- 
 ing of lips " about the plovers. Is this the man who writes for 
 the next age ? O fie ! Here is another joke : — 
 
 " Sir Maurice. Mice ! zounds, how can I - 
 Keep mice! I can't afford it ! They were starved 
 To death an age ago. The last was found 
 Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bone 
 In that same larder, so consumed and worn 
 By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it ! 
 I canonized its corpse in spirits of wine, 
 And set it in the porch— a solemn warning 
 To thieves and beggars t " 
 
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C, J. YELL O WPL USH. 
 
 Is not this rare wit ? " Zounds, how can I keep mice ? " is 
 well enough for a miser j not too new, or brilliant either j but 
 this miserable dilution of a thin joke, this wretched hunting 
 down of the poor mouse ! It is humiliating to think of a man 
 of esprit harping so long on such a mean, pitiful string. A man 
 who aspires to immortality, too ! I doubt whether it is to be 
 gained thus ; whether our author's words are not too loosely- 
 built to make " starry pointing pyramids of." Horace clipped 
 and squared his blocks more carefully before he laid the monu- 
 ment which imber edax or aquila impotens, or fuga temporum 
 might assail in vain. Even old Ovid, when he raised his stately, 
 shining heathen temple, had placed some columns in it, and 
 hewn out a statue or two which deserved the immortality that 
 he prophesied (somewhat arrogantly) for himself. But let not 
 all be looking forward to a future, and fancying that, " incerti 
 spatium dum finiat cevi" our books are to be immortal. Alas ! 
 the way to immortality is not so easy, nor will our " Sea Cap- 
 tain " be permitted such an unconscionable cruise. If all the 
 immortalities were really to have their wish, what a work would 
 our descendants have to study them all ! 
 
 Not yet, in my humble opinion, has the honorable baronet 
 achieved this deathless consummation. There will come a day 
 (may it be long distant!) when the very best of his novels will 
 be forgotten ; and it is reasonable to suppose that his dramas 
 will pass out of existence, some time or other, in the lapse of 
 the secula seculorum. In the meantime, my dear Plush, if you 
 ask me what the great obstacle is towards the dramatic fame 
 and merit of our friend, I would say that it does not lie so 
 much in hostile critics or feeble health, as in a careless habit 
 of writing, and a peevish vanity which causes him to shut his 
 eyes to his faults. The question of original capacity I will not 
 moot ; one may think very highly of the honorable baronet's 
 talent, without rating it quite so high as he seems disposed 
 to do. 
 
 And to conclude : as he has chosen to combat the critics 
 in person, the critics are surely justified in being allowed to 
 address him directly. 
 
 With best compliments to Mrs. Yellowplush, 
 I have the honor to be, dear Sir, 
 
 Your most faithful and obliged 
 humble servant, 
 
 John Thomas Smith. 
 
 And now, Smith having finisht his letter, I think I can't do 
 
EPISTLE TO THE LITTER A 77. 535 
 
 better than clothes mine lickwise ; for though I should never be 
 tired of talking, praps the public may of hearing, and therefore 
 it's best to shut up shopp. 
 
 What I've said, respected Barnit, I hoap you woan't take 
 unkind. A play, you see, is public property for every one to 
 say his say on ; and I think, if you read your prefez over agin, 
 you'll see that it ax as a direct incouridgment to us critix to 
 come forrard and notice you. But don't fansy, I besitch you, 
 that we are actiated by hostillaty ; fust write a good play, and 
 you'll see we'll prays it fast enuff. Waiting which, Agray, 
 Munseer le Chevaker, Vashurance de ma hot cumsidcratun. 
 
 Voter distangy, 
 
 Y. 
 
 Yellowplush Papers. 
 
/ 
 
 h 
 
 / 
 
FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
THE 
 
 FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS* 
 
 FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 GEORGE FITZ-BOODLE, ESQUIRE, TO OLIVER YORKE, ESQUIRE. 
 
 Omnium Club, May 20, 1842. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have always been considered the third-best 
 whist-player in Europe, and (though never betting more than 
 five pounds) have for many years past added considerably to 
 my yearly income by my skill in the game, until the commence- 
 ment of the present season, when a French gentleman, Mon- 
 sieur Lalouette, was admitted to the club where I usually play. 
 His skill and reputation were so great, that no men of the club 
 were inclined to play against us two of a side ; and the con- 
 sequence has been, that we have been in a manner pitted 
 against one another. By a strange turn of luck (for I cannot 
 admit the idea of his superiority), Fortune, since the French- 
 man's arrival, has been almost constantly against me, and I 
 have lost two-and-thirty nights in the course of a couple of 
 score of nights'' play. 
 
 Everybody knows that I am a poor man ; and so much 
 has Lalouette's luck drained my finances, that only last week 
 I was obliged to give him that famous gray cob which you have 
 seen me riding in the Park (I can't afford a thorough-bred, and 
 
 * The ** Fitz-Boodle Papers " first appeared in Fraser y s Magazine for the year 1842. 
 
 (537) 
 
53* 
 
 THE FITZ-B O ODLE PAPERS. 
 
 hate a cocktail), — I was, I say, forced to give him up my cob 
 in exchange for four ponies which I owed him. Thus, as I 
 never walk, being a heavy man whom nobody cares to mount, 
 my time hangs heavily on my hands ; and as I hate home, or 
 that apology for it — a bachelor's lodgings — and as I have 
 nothing earthly to do now until I can afford to purchase another 
 horse, I spend my time in sauntering from one club to another, 
 passing many rather listless hours in them before the men 
 come in. 
 
 You will say, Why not take to backgammon or ecarte, or 
 amuse yourself with a book ? Sir (putting out of the question 
 the fact that I do not play upon credit), I make a point never 
 to play before candles are lighted ; and as for books, I must 
 candidly confess to you I am not a reading man. 'Twas but 
 the other day that some one recommended me to read your 
 Magazine after dinner, saying it contained an exceedingly witty 
 article upon — I forget what. I give you my honor, sir, that I took 
 up the work at six, meaning to amuse myself till seven, when 
 Lord Trumpington's dinner was to come off, and egad ! in two 
 minutes I fell asleep, and never woke till midnight. Nobody 
 ever thought of looking for me in the library, where nobody 
 ever goes ; and so ravenously hungry was I, that I was obliged 
 to walk off to Crockford's for supper. 
 
 What is it that makes you literary persons so stupid ? I 
 have met various individuals in society who I was told were 
 writers of books, and that sort of thing, and expecting rather 
 to be amused by their conversation, have invariably found them 
 dull to a degree, and as for information, without a particle of 
 it. Sir, I actually asked one of these fellows, " What was the 
 nick to seven ? " and he stared in my face, and said he didn't 
 know. He was hugely overdressed in satin, rings, chains and 
 so forth ; and at the beginning of dinner was disposed to be 
 rather talkative and pert ; but my little sally silenced him, I 
 promise you, and got up a good laugh at his expense too. 
 " Leave George alone," said little Lord Cinqbars, " I warrant 
 he'll be a match for any of you literary fellows." Cinqbars is 
 no great wiseacre ; but, indeed, it requires no great wiseacre to 
 know that. 
 
 What is the simple deduction to be drawn from this truth ? 
 Why, this — that a man to be amusing and well-informed, has 
 no need of books at all, and had much better go to the world 
 and to men for his knowledge. There was Ulysses, now r , the 
 Greek fellow engaged in the Trojan war, as I dare say you 
 know | well, he was the cleverest man possible, and how ? 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 539 
 
 From having seen men and cities, their manners noted and 
 their realms surveyed, to be sure. So have I. I have been 
 in every capital, and can order a dinner in every language in 
 Europe. 
 
 My notion, then, is this. I have a great deal of spare time 
 on my hands, and as I am told you pay a handsome sum to 
 persons writing for you, I will furnish you occasionally with 
 some of my views upon men and things ; occasional histories of 
 my acquaintance, which I think may amuse you ; personal nar- 
 ratives of my own ; essays, and what not. I am told that I do 
 not spell correctly. This, of course, I don't know ; but you 
 will remember that Richelieu and Marlborough could not spell, 
 and, egad ! I am an honest man, and desire to be no better 
 than they. I know that it is the matter, and not the manner, 
 which is of importance. Have the goodness, then, to let one 
 of your understrappers correct the spelling and the grammar of 
 my papers ; and you can give him a few shillings in my name 
 for his trouble. 
 
 Begging you to accept the assurance of my high consider- 
 ation, I am, sir, 
 
 Your obedient servant, 
 
 George Savage Fitz-Boodle. 
 
 P.S. — By the way, I have said in my letter that I found all 
 literary persons vulgar and dull. Permit me to contradict this 
 with regard to yourself. I met you once at Blackwall, I think 
 it was, and really did not remark anything offensive in your 
 accent or appearance. 
 
 Before commencing the series of moral disquisitions, &c, 
 which I intend, the reader may as well know who I am, and 
 what my past course of life has been. To say that I am a Fitz- 
 Boodle is to say at once that I am a gentleman. Our family 
 has held the estate of Boodle ever since the reign of Henry II. ; 
 and it is out of no ill-will to my elder brother, or unnatural 
 desire for his death, but only because the estate is a very good 
 one, that I wish heartily it was mine : I would say as much of 
 Chatsworth or Eaton Hall. 
 
 I am not, in the first place, what is called a ladies' man, 
 having contracted an irrepressible habit of smoking after 
 dinner, which has obliged me to give up a great deal of the 
 dear creatures' society ; nor can I go much to country-houses 
 
 35 
 
54 o THE F1TZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 for the same reason. Say what they will, ladies do not like you 
 to smoke in their bedrooms ; their silly little noses scent out 
 the odor upon the chintz, weeks after you have left them. Sit 
 John has been caught coming to bed particularly merry and 
 redolent of cigar smoke ; young George, from Eaton, was 
 absolutely found in the little green-house puffing an Havana ; 
 and when discovered, they both lay the blame upon Fitz-Boodle. 
 " It was Mr. Fitz-Boodle, mamma," says George, " who offered 
 me the cigar, and I did not like to refuse him." " That rascal 
 Fitz seduced us, my dear," said Sir John, "and kept us laugh- 
 ing until past midnight." Her ladyship instantly sets me down 
 as a person to be avoided. " George," whispers she to her 
 boy, " promise me, on your honor, when you go to town, not 
 to know that man." And when she enters the breakfast-room 
 for prayers, the first greeting is a peculiar expression of coun- 
 tenance, and inhaling of breath, by which my lady indicates 
 the presence of some exceedingly disagreeable odor in the room. 
 She makes you the faintest of curtseys, and regards you, if not 
 with a " flashing eye," as in the novels, at least with a " distend- 
 ed nostril." During the whole of the service, her heart is filled 
 with the blackest gall towards you ; and she is thinking about 
 the best means of getting you out of the house. 
 
 What is this smoking that it should be considered a crime ? 
 I believe in my heart that women are jealous of it, as of a rival. 
 They speak of it as of some secret, awful vice that seizes upon 
 a man, and makes him a pariah from genteel society. I would 
 lay a guinea that many a lady who has just been kind enough 
 to read the above lines lays down the book, after this confession 
 of mine that I am a smoker, and says, " Oh, the vulgar wretch ! " 
 and passes on to something else. 
 
 The fact is, that the cigar is a rival to the ladies, and 
 their conqueror too. In the chief pipe-smoking nations they 
 are kept in subjection. While the chief, Little White Belt, 
 smokes, the women are silent in his wigwam ; while Mahomet 
 Ben Jawbrahim causes volumes of odorous incense of Latakia 
 to play round his beard, the women of the harem do not dis- 
 turb his meditations, but only add to the delight of them by 
 tinkling on a dulcimer and dancing before him. When Pro- 
 fessor Strumpff of Gottingen takes down No. 13 from the wall, 
 with a picture of Beatrice Cenci upon it, and which holds a 
 pound of canaster, the frau Professorin knows that for two 
 hours Hermann is engaged, and takes up her stockings and 
 knits in quiet. The constitution of French society has been 
 quite changed within the last twelve years : an ancient and 
 
1 
 
 FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSION. 541 
 
 respectable dynasty has been overthrown ; an aristocracy which 
 Napoleon could never master has disappeared : and from what 
 cause ? I do not hesitate to say,— -from the. habit of smoking. 
 Ask any man whether, five years before the revolution of July, 
 if you wanted a cigar at Paris, they did not bring you a roll of 
 tobacco with a straw in it ? Now, the whole city smokes ; 
 society is changed ; and be sure of this, ladies, a similar com- 
 bat is going on in this country at present between cigar-smoking 
 and you. Do you suppose you will conquer ? Look over the 
 wide world, and see that your adversary has overcome it. 
 Germany has been purring for threescore years ; France smokes 
 to a man. Do you think you can keep the enemy out of Eng- 
 land ? Psha ! look at his progress. Ask the club-houses, 
 Have they smoking-rooms, or not? Are they not obliged to 
 yield to the general want of the age, in spite of the resistance 
 of the old women on the committees ? I, for my part, do not 
 despair to see a bishop lolling out of the " Athenaeum " with a 
 • cheroot in his mouth, or, at any rate, a pipe stuck in his shovel- 
 hat. 
 
 But as in all great causes and in promulgating new and 
 illustrious theories, their first propounders and exponents are 
 generally the victims of their enthusiasm, of course the first 
 preachers of smoking have been martyrs, too ; and George 
 Fitz-Boodle is one. The first gas-man was ruined ; the in- 
 ventor of steam-engine printing became a pauper. I began to 
 smoke in days when the task was one of some danger, and paid 
 the penalty of my crime. I was flogged most fiercely for my 
 first cigar ; for, being asked to dine one Sunday evening with a 
 half-pay colonel of dragoons (the gallant, simple, humorous 
 Shortcut — heaven bless him ! — I have had many a guinea from 
 him who had so few), he insisted upon my smoking in his room 
 at the " Salopian," and the consequence was, that I became so 
 violently ill as to be reported intoxicated upon my return to 
 Slaughter-House School, where I was a boarder, and I was 
 whipped the next morning for my peccadillo. At Christ 
 Church, one of our tutors was the celebrated lamented Otto 
 Rose, who would have been a bishop under the present Gov- 
 ernment, had not an immoderate indulgence in water-gruel 
 cut short his elegant and useful career. He was a good man, 
 a pretty scholar and poet (the episode upon the discovery of 
 eau-de-Cologne, in his prize-poem on " The Rhine," was con- 
 sidered a masterpiece of art, though I am not much of a judge 
 myself upon such matters), and he was as remarkable for his 
 fondness for a tuft as for his nervous antipathy to tobacco. As 
 
542 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 ill-luck would have it, my rooms (in Tom Quad) were exactly 
 under his ; and I was grown by this time to be a confirmed 
 smoker. I was a baronet's son (we are of James the First's 
 creation), and I do believe our tutor could have pardoned any 
 crime in the world but this. He had seen me in a tandem, and 
 at that moment was seized with a violent fit of sneezing — 
 (sternutatory paroxysm he called it) — at the conclusion of 
 which I was a mile down the Woodstock Road. He had seen 
 me in pink, as we used to call it, swaggering in the open sun- 
 shine across a grass-plot in the court ; but spied out oppor- 
 tunely a servitor, one Todhunter by name, who was going to 
 morning chapel with his shoestring untied, and forthwith 
 sprung towards that unfortunate person, to set him an imposi- 
 tion. Everything, in fact, but tobacco he could forgive. Why 
 did cursed fortune bring him into the rooms over mine ? The 
 odor of the cigars made his gentle spirit quite furious ; and one 
 luckless morning, when I was standing before my " oak," and 
 chanced to puff a great bouffee of Varinas into his face, he for- 
 got his respect for my family altogether (I was the second son, 
 and my brother a sickly creature then, — he is now sixteen stone 
 in weight, and has a half-score of children) ; gave me a severe 
 lecture, to which I replied rather hotly, as was my wont. And 
 then came demand for an apology ; refusal on my part ; appeal 
 to the dean ; convocation ; and rustication of George Savage 
 Fitz-Boodle. 
 
 My father had taken a second wife (of the noble house of 
 Flintskinner), and Lady Fitz-Boodle detested smoking, as a wo- 
 man of her high principles should. She had an entire mastery 
 over the worthy old gentleman, and thought I was a sort of 
 demon of wickedness. The old man went down to his grave 
 with some similar notion, — heaven help him ! and left me but 
 the wretched twelve thousand pounds secured to me on my 
 poor mother's property. 
 
 In the army, my luck was much the same. I joined the 
 
 th Lancers, Lieut.-Col. Lord Martingale, in the year 1817. 
 
 I only did duty with the regiment for three months. We were 
 quartered at Cork, where I found the Irish doodheen and 
 tobacco the pleasantest smoking possible ; and was found by 
 his lordship, one day upon stable duty, smoking the shortest, 
 dearest little dumpy clay-pipe in the world. 
 
 r Cornet Fitz-Boodle," said my lord, in a towering passion, 
 from what blackguard did you get that pipe ? " 
 
 I omit the oaths which garnished invariably his lordship's 
 conversation. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 543 
 
 ••I got it, my lord/' said I, "from one Terence Mullins, a 
 jingle-driver, with a packet of his peculiar tobacco. You some- 
 times smoke Turkish, I believe ; do try this. Isn't it good ? " 
 And in the simplest way in the world I puffed a volume into his 
 face. " I see you like it," said I coolly, that the men — and I 
 do believe the horses — burst out laughing. 
 
 He started back — choking almost, and recovered himself 
 only to vent such a storm of oaths and curses that I was com- 
 pelled to request Capt. Rawdon (the captain on duty) to take 
 note of his lordship's words ; and unluckily could not help 
 adding a question which settled my business. " You were good 
 enough," I said, " to ask me, my lord, from what blackguard I 
 got my pipe ; might I ask from what blackguard you learned 
 your language ? " 
 
 This was quite enough. Had I said, " From what gentleman 
 did your lordship learn your language ? " the point would have 
 been quite as good, and my Lord Martingale would have suf- 
 fered in my place : as it was, I was so strongly recommended 
 to sell out by his Royal Highness the Commander-in-Chief, 
 that, being of a good-natured disposition, never knowing how 
 to refuse a friend, I at once threw up my hopes of military 
 distinction and retired into civil life. 
 
 My lord was kind enough to meet me afterwards in a field 
 in the Glanmire Road, where he put a ball into my leg. This 
 I returned to him some years later with about twenty-three 
 others — black ones — when he came to be balloted for at a 
 club of which I have the honor to be a member. 
 
 Thus by the indulgence of a simple and harmless propen- 
 sity, — of a propensity which can inflict an injury upon no 
 person or thing except the coat and the person of him who in- 
 dulges in it, — of a custom honored and observed in almost all 
 the nations of the world, — of a custom which, far from leading 
 a man into any wickedness or dissipation to which youth is 
 subject, on the contrary, begets only benevolent silence and 
 thoughtful good-humored observation — I found at the age of 
 twenty all my prospects in life destroyed. I cared not for 
 woman in those days : the calm smoker has a sweet companion 
 in his pipe. I did not drink immoderately of wine ; for though 
 a friend to trifling potations, to excessively strong drinks 
 tobacco is abhorrent. I never thought of gambling, for the 
 lover of the pipe has no need of such excitement ; but I was 
 considered a monster of dissipation in my family, and bade fair 
 to come to ruin. 
 
 " Look at George," my mother-in-law said to the genteel 
 
544 
 
 THE FITZ-B O ODL E PAPERS, 
 
 and correct young Flintskinners. " He entered the world with 
 every prospect in life, and see in what an abyss of degradation 
 his fatal habits have plunged him ! At school he was flogged 
 and disgraced, he was disgraced and rusticated at the university, 
 he was disgraced and expelled from the army ! He might have 
 had the living of Boodle " (her ladyship gave it to one of her 
 nephews), " but he would not take his degree : his papa would 
 have purchased him a troop — nay, a lieutenant-colonelcy some 
 day, but for his fatal excesses. And now as long as my dear 
 husband will listen to the voice of a wife who adores him — - 
 never, never shall he spend a shilling upon so worthless a young 
 man. He has a small income from his mother (I cannot but 
 think that the fir9t Lady Fitz-Boodle was a weak and misguided 
 person) ; let him live upon his mean pittance as he can, and I 
 heartily pray we may not hear of him in jail ! " 
 
 My brother, after he came to the estate, married the ninth 
 daughter of our neighbor, Sir John Spreadeagle * and Boodle 
 Hall has seen a new little Fitz-boodle with every succeeding 
 spring. The dowager retired to Scotland with a large jointure 
 and a wondrous heap of savings. Lady Fitz is a good creature, 
 but she thinks me something diabolical, trembles when she 
 sees me, and gathers all her children about her, rushes into the 
 nursery whenever I pay that little seminary a visit, and actually 
 slapped poor little Frank's ears one day when I was teaching 
 him to ride upon the back of a Newfoundland dog. 
 
 " George," said my brother to me the last time I paid him 
 a visit at the old hall, " don't be angry, my dear fellow, but 
 Maria is in a — hum — in a delicate situation, expecting her — 
 hum " — (the eleventh) — " and do you know you frighten her ? 
 It was but yesterday you met her in the rookery — you were 
 smoking that enormous German pipe — and when she came in 
 she had an hysterical seizure, and Drench says that in her situ- 
 ation it's dangerous. And I say, George, if you go to town 
 you'll find a couple of hundred at your banker's." And with 
 this the poor fellow shook me by the hand, and called for a 
 fresh bottle of claret. 
 
 Afterwards he told me, with many hesitations, that my room 
 at Boodle Hall had been made into a second nursery. I see 
 my sister-in-law in London twice or thrice in the season, and 
 the little people, who have almost forgotten to call me uncle 
 George. 
 
 It's hard, too, for I am a lonely man after all, and my heart 
 yearns to them. The other day I smuggled a couple of them 
 into my chambers, and had a little feast of cream and straw- 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 545 
 
 berries to welcome them. But it had like to have cost the 
 nursery-maid (a Swiss girl that Fitz-Boodle hired somewhere in 
 his travels) her place. My step-mamma, who happened to be 
 in town, came flying down in her chariot, pounced upon the 
 poor thing and the children in the midst of the entertainment ; 
 and when I asked her, with rather a bad grace to be sure, to 
 take a chair and a share of the feast — 
 
 " Mr. Fitz-Boodle," said she, " I am not accustomed to sit 
 down in a place that smells of tobacco like an ale-house — an 
 ale-house inhabited by a serpent, sir ! A serpent I — do you under- 
 stand me ? — who carries his poison into his brother's own house, 
 and purshues his eenfamous designs before his brother's own 
 children. Put on Miss Maria's bonnet this instant. Mamsell, 
 ontondy-voo ? Metty le bonny a mamsell. And I shall take 
 care, Mamsell, that you return to Switzerland to-morrow. I've 
 no doubt you are a relation of Courvoisier — out ! out! Cour- 
 voisier, vous comprenny — and you shall certainly be sent back to 
 your friends." 
 
 With this speech, and with the children and their maid sob- 
 bing before her, my lady retired ; but for once my sister-in-law 
 was on my side, not liking the meddlement of the elder lady. 
 
 I know, then, that from indulging in that simple habit of 
 smoking, I have gained among the ladies a dreadful reputation. 
 I see that they look coolly upon me, and darkly at their hus- 
 bands when they arrive at home in my company. Men, I ob- 
 serve, in consequence, ask me to dine much oftener at the 
 club, or the " Star and Garter " at Richmond, or at " Love- 
 grove's," than in their own houses ; and with this sort of ar- 
 rangement I am fain to acquiesce ; for, as I said before, I am 
 of an easy temper, and can at any rate take my cigar-case out 
 after dinner at Blackwall, when my lady or the duchess is not 
 by. I know, of course, the best men in town ; and as for 
 ladies' society, not having it (for I will have none of your 
 pseudo-ladies, such as sometimes honor bachelors' parties, — 
 actresses, couturieres, opera-dancers, and so forth) — as for 
 ladies' society, I say, I cry pish ! 'tis not worth the trouble of 
 the complimenting, and the bother of pumps and black silk 
 stockings. 
 
 Let any man remember what ladies' society was when he 
 had an opportunity of seeing them among themselves, as What- 
 d'ye-calPim does in the Thesmophoria — (I beg pardon, 1 was 
 on the verge of a classical allusion, which I abominate) — I 
 mean at that period of his life when the intellect is pretty acute, 
 though the body is small — namely, when a young gentleman is 
 
546 
 
 THE FITZ-B O ODLE PAPERS. 
 
 about eleven years of age, dining at his father's table during 
 the holidays, and is requested by his papa to quit the dinner- 
 table when the ladies retire from it. 
 
 Corbleu / I recollect their whole talk as well as if it had 
 been whispered but yesterday ; and can see, after a long din- 
 ner, the yellow summer sun throwing long shadows over the 
 lawn before the dining-room windows, and my poor mother and 
 her company of ladies sailing away to the music-room in old 
 Boodle Hall. The Countess Dawdley was the great lady in 
 our county, a portly lady who used to love crimson satin in 
 those days, and birds of paradise. She was flaxen-haired, and 
 the Regent once said she resembled one of King Charles's 
 beauties. 
 
 When Sir John Todcaster used to begin his famous story 
 of the exciseman (I shall not tell it here, for very good reasons), 
 my poor mother used to turn to Lady Dawdley, and give that 
 mystic signal at which all females rise from their chairs. Tuft- 
 hunt, the curate, would spring from his seat, and be sure to be 
 the first to open the door for the retreating ladies ; and my 
 brother Tom and I, though remaining stoutly in our places, 
 were speedily ejected from them by the governor's invariable 
 remark, " Tom and George, if you have had quite enough of 
 wine, you had better go and join your mamma." Yonder she 
 marches, heaven bless her ! through the old oak hall (how long 
 the shadows of the antlers are on the wainscot, and the armor 
 of Rollo Fitzboodle looks in the sunset as if it were emblazoned 
 with rubies) — yonder she marches, stately and tall, in her in- 
 variable pearl-colored tabinet, followed by Lady Dawdley, 
 blazing like a flamingo ; next comes Lady Emily Tufthunt (she 
 was Lady Emily Flintskinner), who will not for all the world 
 take precedence of rich, vulgar, kind, good-humored Mrs. Col- 
 onel Grogwater, as she would be called, with a yellow little 
 husband from Madras, who first taught me to drink sangaree. 
 He was a new arrival in our county, but paid nobly to the 
 hounds, and occupied hospitably a house which was always 
 famous for its hospitality — Sievely Hall (poor Bob Cullender 
 ran through seven thousand a year before he was thirty years 
 old). Once when I was a lad, Colonel Grogwater gave me two 
 gold mohurs out of his desk for whist-markers, and I'm sorry to 
 say I ran up from Eton and sold them both for seventy- three 
 shillings at a shop in Cornhill. But to return to the ladies, 
 who are all this while kept waiting in the hall, and to their 
 usual conversation after dinner. 
 
 Can any man forget how miserably flat it was ? Five 
 matrons sit on sofas, and talk in a subdued voice : — 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 547 
 
 First Lady {mysteriously). — "My dear Lady Dawdley, do 
 tell me about poor Susan Tuckett." 
 
 Second Lady. — " All three children are perfectly well, and I 
 assure you as fine babies as I ever saw in my life. I made her 
 give them Daffey's Elixir the first day ; and it was the greatest 
 mercy that I had some of Frederick's baby-clothes by me • for 
 you know I had provided Susan with sets for one only, and 
 really " 
 
 Third Lady. — " Of course one couldn't ; and for my part I 
 think your ladyship is a great deal too kind to these people. 
 A little gardener's boy dressed in Lord Dawdley's frocks indeed ! 
 I recollect that one at his christening had the sweetest lace in 
 the world ! " 
 
 Fourth Lady, — " What do you think of this, ma'am — Lady 
 Emily, I mean ? I have just had it from Howell and James : 
 — guipure, they call it. Isn't it an odd name for lace ? And 
 they charge me, upon my conscience, four guineas a yard ! " 
 
 Third Lady. — " My mother, when she came to Flintskinner, 
 had lace upon her robe that cost sixty guineas a yard, ma'am ! 
 'Twas sent from Malines direct by our relation, the Count 
 d'Araignay." 
 
 Fourth Lady (aside). — " I thought she would not let the 
 evening pass without talking of her Malines lace and her Count 
 d'Araignay. Odious people ! they don't spare their backs, but 
 they pinch their " 
 
 Here Tom upsets a coffee-cup over his white jean trousers, 
 and another young gentlemen bursts into a laugh, saying, " By 
 Jove, that's a good 'un ! " 
 
 " George, my dear," says mamma, " had not you and your 
 young friend better go into the garden ? But mind, no fruit, 
 or Dr. Glauber must be called in again immediately ! " And 
 we all go, and in ten minutes I and my brother are fighting in 
 the stables. 
 
 If, instead of listening to the matrons and their discourse, 
 we had taken the opportunity of attending to the conversation 
 of the Misses, we should have heard matter not a whit more 
 interesting. 
 
 First Miss. — " They were all three in blue crape ; you never 
 saw anything so odious. And I know for a certainty that they 
 wore those dresses at Muddlebury, at the archery-ball, and I 
 dare say they had them in town." 
 
 Second Miss. — " Don't you think Jemima decidedly crooked ? 
 And those fair complexions they freckle so, that really Miss 
 Blanche ought to be called Miss Brown." 
 
548 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 Third Miss,—" He, he, he ! " 
 
 Fourth Miss. — " Don't you think Blanche is a pretty 
 name ? " 
 
 First Miss. — " La ! do you think so, dear ? Why it's my 
 second name ! " 
 
 Second Miss. — " Then I'm sure Captain Travers thinks it a 
 
 beautiful name !." 
 
 Third Miss.—" He, he, he ! " 
 
 Fourth Miss. — " What was he telling you at dinner that 
 seemed to interest you so ? " 
 
 First Miss. — " O law, nothing ! — that is, yes ! Charles — 
 that is, — Captain Travers, is a sweet poet, and was reciting to 
 me some lines that he had composed upon a faded violet : 
 
 " s The odor from the flower is gone, 
 That like thy ' 
 
 like thy something, I forget what it was ; but his lines are 
 sweet, and so original too ! I wish that horrid Sir John Tod- 
 caster had not begun his story of the exciseman. For Lady 
 Fitz-Boodle always quits the table when he begins." 
 
 Third Miss. — "Do you like those tufts that gentlemen 
 wear sometimes on their chins ? " 
 
 Second Miss. — " Nonsense, Mary ! " 
 
 Third Miss. — "Well, I only asked, Jane. Frank thinks, 
 you know, that he shall very soon have one, and puts bear's- 
 grease on his chin every night." 
 
 Second Miss. — " Mary, nonsense ! " 
 
 Third Miss. — " Well, only ask him. You know he came to 
 our dressing-room last night and took the pomatum away ; and 
 he says that when boys go to Oxford they always " 
 
 First Miss. — " O heavens ! have you heard the news about 
 the Lancers ? Charles — that is, Captain Travers, told it me ! " 
 
 Second Miss. — " Law ! they won't go away before the ball, 
 I hope ! " 
 
 First Miss. — " No, but on the 15 th they are to shave their 
 mustaches ! He says that Lord Tufto is in a perfect fury 
 about it ! " 
 
 Second Miss. — " And poor George Beardmore, too ! " &c. 
 
 Here Tom upsets the coffee over his trousers, and the con- 
 versations end. I can recollect a dozen such, and ask any 
 man of sense whether such talk amuses him ? 
 
 Try again to speak to a young lady while you are dancing 
 — what we call in this country — a quadrille. What nonsense 
 do you invariably give and receive in return ! No, I am a 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 549 
 
 woman-scorner, and don't care to own it. I hate young ladies ! 
 Have I not been in love with several, and has any one of them 
 ever treated me decently ? I hate married women ! Do they 
 not hate me ? and, simply because I smoke, try to draw their 
 husbands away from my society? I hate dowagers ! Have I 
 not cause ? Does not every dowager in London point to George 
 Fitz-Boodle as to a dissolute wretch whom young and old should 
 avoid ? 
 
 And yet do not imagine that I have not loved. I have, and 
 madly, many, many times ! I am but eight-and-thirty,* not 
 past the age of passion, and may very likely end by running off 
 with an heiress — or a cook-maid (for who knows what strange 
 freaks Love may choose to play in his own particular person ? 
 and I hold a man to be a mean creature who calculates about 
 checking any such sacred impulse as lawful love) — I say, though 
 despising the sex in general for their conduct to me, I know of 
 particular persons belonging to it who are worthy of all respect 
 and esteem, and as such I beg leave to point out the particular 
 young lady who is perusing these lines. Do not, dear madam, 
 then imagine that if I knew you I should be disposed to sneer 
 at you. Ah, no ! Fitz-Boodle's bosom has tenderer sentiments 
 than from his way of life you would fancy, and stern by rule is 
 only too soft by practice. Shall I whisper to you the story of 
 one or two of my attachments ? All terminating fatally (not 
 in death, but in disappointment, which, as it occurred, I used 
 to imagine a thousand times more bitter than death, but from 
 which one recovers somehow more readily than from the other- 
 named complaint) — all, I say, terminating wretchedly to myself, 
 as if some fatality pursued my desire to become a domestic 
 character. 
 
 My first love — no, let us pass that over. Sweet one ! thy 
 name shall profane no hireling page. Sweet, sweet memory ! 
 Ah, ladies, those delicate hearts of yours have, too, felt the 
 throb. And between the last ob in the word throb and the words 
 now written, I have passed a delicious period of perhaps an 
 hour, perhaps a minute, I know not how long, thinking of that 
 holy first love and of her who inspired it. How clearly every 
 single incident of the passion is remembered by me ! and yet 
 'twas long, long since. I was but a child then — a child at 
 school — and, if the truth must be told, L — ra R-ggl-s (I would 
 not write her whole name to be made one of the Marquess of 
 Hertford's executors) was a woman full thirteen years older 
 than myself ; at the period of which I write she must have been 
 
 * He is five-and-forty, if he is a day old. — O. Y. 
 
55° 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS, 
 
 at least five-ancl-twenty. She and her mother used to sell tarts, 
 hard-bake, lollipops, and other such simple comestibles, on 
 Wednesdays and Saturdays (half-holidays), at a private school 
 where I received the first rudiments of a classical education. 
 I used to go and sit before her tray for hours, but I do not 
 think the poor girl ever supposed any motive led me so con- 
 stantly to her little stall beyond a vulgar longing for her tarts 
 and her ginger-beer. Yes, even at that early period my actions 
 were misrepresented, and the fatality which has oppressed my 
 whole life began to show itself, — the purest passion was misin- 
 terpreted by her and my school-fellows, and they thought I was 
 actuated by simple gluttony. They nicknamed me Alicom- 
 payne. 
 
 Well, be it so. Laugh at early passion ye who will ; a high- 
 born boy madly in love with a lowly ginger-beer girl ! She 
 married afterwards, took the name of Latter, and now keeps 
 with her old husband a turnpike, through which I often ride ; 
 but I can recollect her bright and rosy of a sunny summer after- 
 noon, her red cheeks shaded by a battered straw bonnet, her 
 tarts and ginger-beer upon a neat white cloth before her, mend- 
 ing blue worsted stockings until the young gentlemen should 
 interrupt her by coming to buy. 
 
 Many persons will call this description low ; I do not envy 
 them their gentility, and have always observed through life (as, 
 to be sure, every other gentleman has observed as well as my- 
 self) that it is your parvenu who stickles most for what he calls 
 the genteel, and has the most squeamish abhorrence for what 
 is frank and natural. Let us pass at once, however, as all the 
 world must be pleased, to a recital of an affair which occurred 
 in the very best circles of society, as they are called, viz : my 
 next unfortunate attachment. 
 
 It did not occur for several years after that simple and pla- 
 tonic passion just described : for though they may talk of youth 
 as the season of romance, it has always appeared to me that 
 there are no beings in the world so entirely unromantic and self- 
 ish as certain young English gentlemen from the age of fifteen 
 to twenty. The oldest Lovelace about town is scarcely more 
 hard-hearted and scornful than they ; they ape all sorts of self- 
 ishness and rouerie : they aim at excelling at cricket, at billiards, 
 at rowing, at drinking, and set more store by a red coat and a 
 neat pair of top-boots than by any other glory. A young fellow 
 staggers into college-chapel of a morning, and communicates to 
 all his friends that he was " so cut last night," with the greatest 
 possible pride. He makes a joke of having sisters and a kind 
 
FITZ-B OODLES CONFESSIONS. 
 
 mother at home who loves him ; and if he speaks of his father, 
 it is with a knowing sneer to say that he has a tailor's and a 
 horse-dealer's bill that will surprise " the old governor." He 
 would be ashamed of being in love. I, in common with my 
 kind, had these affectations, and my perpetual custom of smok- 
 ing added not a little to my reputation as an accomplished roue. 
 What came of this custom in the army and at college, the reader 
 has already heard. Alas ! in life it went no better with me, 
 and many pretty chances I had went off in that accursed smoke. 
 
 After quitting the army in the abrupt manner stated, I 
 passed some short time at home, and was tolerated by my 
 mother-in-law, because I had formed an attachment to a young 
 lady of good connections and with a considerable fortune, which 
 was really very nearly becoming mine. Mary M'Alister was 
 the only daughter of Colonel M'Alister, late of the Blues, and 
 Lady Susan his wife. Her ladyship was no more ; and, indeed, 
 of no family compared to ours (which has refused a peerage 
 any time these two hundred years) \ but being an earl's daughter 
 and a Scotchwoman, Lady Emily Fitz-Boodle did not fail to 
 consider her highly. Lady Susan was daughter of the late Ad- 
 miral Earl of Marlingspike and Barori Plumduff. The Colonel, 
 Miss M'Alister's father, had a good estate, of which his daughter 
 was the heiress, and as I fished her out of the water upon a 
 pleasure-party, and swam with her to shore, we became natu- 
 ally intimate, and Colonel M'Alister forgot, on account of the 
 service rendered to him, the dreadful reputation for profligacy 
 which I enjoyed in the county. 
 
 Well, to cut a long story short, which is told here merely 
 for the moral at the end of it, I should have been Fitz-Boodle 
 M'Alister at this minute most probably, and master of four 
 thousand a year, but for the fatal cigar-box. I bear Mary no 
 malice in saying that she was a high-spirited little girl, loving, 
 before all things, her own way ; nay, perhaps I do not, from 
 long habit and indulgence in tobacco-smoking, appreciate the 
 delicacy of female organizations, which were oftentimes most 
 painfully affected by it. She was a keen-sighted little person, 
 and soon found that the world had belied poor George Fitz- 
 Boodle ; who, instead of being the cunning monster people sup- 
 posed him to be, was a simple, reckless, good-humored, honest 
 fellow, marvellously addicted to smoking, idleness, and telling 
 the truth. She called me Orson, and I was happy enough on 
 the 14th February, in the year 18 — (it's of no consequence), to 
 send her such a pretty little copy of verses about Orson and 
 Valentine, in which the rude habits of the savage man were 
 
55 2 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 shown to be overcome by the polished graces of his kind and 
 brilliant conqueror, that she was fairly overcome, and said to 
 me, " George Fitz-Boodle, if you give up smoking for a year I 
 will marry you." 
 
 I swore I would, of course, and went home and flung four 
 pounds of Hudson's cigars, two meerschaum pipes that had 
 cost me ten guineas at the establishment of Mr. Gattie at Ox- 
 ford, a tobacco-bag that Lady Fitz-Boodle had given me before 
 her marriage with my father (it was the only present that I ever 
 had from her or any member of the Flintskinner family), and 
 some choice packets of Varinas and Syrian, into the lake in 
 Boodle Park. The weapon amongst them all which I most re- 
 gretted was — will it be believed ? — the little black doodheen 
 which had been the cause of the quarrel between Lord Martin- 
 gale and me. However, it went along with the others. I 
 would not allow my groom to have so much as a cigar, lest I 
 should be tempted hereafter ; and the consequence was that a 
 few days after many fat^carps and tenches in the lake (I must 
 confess 'twas no bigger than a pond) nibbled at the tobacco, 
 and came floating on their backs on the top of the water quite 
 intoxicated. My conversion made some noise in the county, 
 being emphasized as it were by this fact of the fish. I can't 
 tell you with what pangs I kept my resolution ; but keep it I 
 did for some time. 
 
 With so much beauty and wealth, Mary M'Alister had of 
 course many suitors, and among them was the young Lord 
 Dawdley, whose mamma has previously been described in her 
 gown of red satin. As I used to thrash Dawdley at school, I 
 thrashed him in after-life in love ; he put up with his disappoint- 
 ment pretty well, and came after a while and shook hands with 
 me, telling me of the bets that there were in the county, where 
 the whole story was known, for and against me. For the fact 
 is, as I must own, that Mary M'Alister, the queerest, frankest 
 of women, made no secret of the agreement, or the cause of it. 
 
 " I did not care a penny for Orson," she said, " but he 
 would go on writing me such dear pretty verses that at last I 
 couldn't help saying yes. But if he breaks his promise to me, 
 I declare, upon my honor, I'll break mine, and nobody's heart 
 will be broken either." 
 
 This was the perfect fact, as I must confess, and I declare 
 that it was only because she amused me and delighted me, and 
 provoked me, and made me laugh very much, and because, no 
 doubt, she was very rich, that I had any attachment for her. 
 
 " for heaven's sake, George," my father said to me, as I 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 553 
 
 quitted home to follow my beloved to London, " remember that 
 you are a younger brother and have a lovely girl and four 
 thousand a year within a year's reach of you. Smoke as much 
 as you like, my boy, after marriage, " added the old gentleman, 
 knowingly (as if he, honest soul, after his second marriage, 
 dared drink an extra pint of wine without my lady's permis- 
 sion !) "but eschew the -tobacco-shops till then." 
 
 I went to London resolving to act upon the paternal advice, 
 and oh ! how I longed for the day when I should be married, 
 vowing in my secret soul that I would light a cigar as I walked 
 out of St. George's, Hanover Square. 
 
 Well, I came to London, and so carefully avoided smoking 
 that I would not even go into Hudson's shop to pay his bill, 
 and as smoking was not the fashion then among young men as 
 (thank heaven !) it is now, I had not many temptations from my 
 friends' examples in my clubs or elsewhere ; only little Dawdley 
 began to smoke, as if to spite me. He had never done so 
 before, but confessed — the rascal ! — that he enjoyed a cigar 
 now, if it were but to mortify me. But I took to other and more 
 dangerous excitements, and upon the nights when not in attend- 
 ance upon Mary M/Alister, might be found in very dangerous 
 proximity to a polished mahogany table, round which claret 
 bottles circulated a great deal too often, or worse still, to a 
 table covered with green cloth and ornamented with a couple 
 of wax-candles and a couple of packs of cards, and four gentle- 
 men playing the enticing game of whist. Likewise, I came to 
 carry a snuff-box, and to consume in secret huge quantities of 
 rappee. 
 
 For ladies' society I was even then disinclined, hating and 
 despising small talk, and dancing, and hot routs, and vulgar 
 scrambles for suppers. I never could understand the pleasure 
 of acting the part of lackey to a dowager, and standing behind 
 her chair, or bustling through the crowd for her carriage. I 
 always found an opera too long by two acts, and have repeatedly 
 fallen asleep in the presence of Mary M'Alister herself, sitting 
 at the back of the box shaded by the huge beret of her old 
 aunt, Lady Betty Plumduff ; and many a time has Dawdley, 
 with Miss M'Alister on his arm, wakened me up at the close of 
 the entertainment in time to offer my hand to Lady Betty and 
 lead the ladies to their carriage. If I attended her occasionally 
 to any ball or party of pleasure, I went, it must be confessed, 
 with clumsy, ill- disguised ill-humor. Good heavens ! have I 
 often and often thought in the midst of a song, or the very thick 
 of a ball-room, can people prefer this to a book and a sofa, and 
 
554 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 a dear, dear cigar-box, from thy stores, O charming Mariana 
 Woodville ! Deprived of my favorite plant, I grew sick in 
 mind and body, moody, sarcastic, and discontented. 
 
 Such a state of things could not long continue, nor could 
 Miss M'Alister continue to have much attachment for such a 
 sullen, ill-conditioned creature as I then was. She used to 
 make me wild with her wit and her sarcasm, nor have I ever 
 possessed the readiness to parry or reply to those fine points of 
 woman's wit, and she treated me the more mercilessly as she 
 saw that I could not resist her. 
 
 Well, the polite reader must remember a great fete that was 
 given at B House, some years back, in honor of his High- 
 ness the Hereditary Prince of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel, who 
 was then in London on a visit to his illustrious relatives. It 
 was a fancy ball, and the poems of Scott being at that time all 
 the fashion, Mary was to appear in the character of the " Lady 
 of the Lake," old M'Alister making a very tall and severe- 
 looking harper ; Dawdley, a most insignificant Fitzjames ; and 
 your humble servant a stalwart manly Roderick Dhu. We 
 
 were to meet at B House at twelve o'clock, and as I had 
 
 no fancy to drive through the town in my cab dressed in a kilt 
 and philibeg, I agreed to take a seat in Dawdley's carriage, and 
 to dress at his house in May Fair. At eleven I left a very 
 pleasant bachelor's party, growling to quit them and the honest, 
 jovial claret-bottle, in order to scrape and cut capers like a 
 harlequin from the theatre. When I arrived at Dawdley's, I 
 mounted to a dressing-room, and began to array myself in my 
 cursed costume. 
 
 The art of costuming was by no means so well understood 
 in those days as it has been since, and mine was out of all cor- 
 rectness. I was made to sport an enormous plume of black 
 ostrich-feathers, such as never was worn by any Highland chief, 
 and had a huge tiger-skin sporran to dangle like an apron be- 
 fore innumerable yards of plaid petticoat. The tartan cloak 
 was outrageously hot and voluminous ; it was the dog-days, and 
 all these things I was condemned to wear in the midst of a 
 thousand people ! 
 
 Dawdley sent up word, as I was dressing, that his dress had 
 not arrived, and he took my cab and drove off in a rage to his 
 tailor. 
 
 There was no hurry, I thought, to make a fool of myself ; so 
 having put on a pair of plaid trews, and very neat pumps with 
 shoe-buckles, my courage failed me as to the rest of the dress, 
 and taking down one of his dressing-gowns, I went down stairs 
 to the study, to wait until he should arrive. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS, 
 
 555 
 
 The windows of the pretty room were open, and a snug 
 sofa, with innumerable cushions, drawn towards one of them. A 
 great tranquil moon was staring into the chamber, in which 
 stood, amidst books and all sorts of bachelor's lumber, a silver 
 tray with a couple of tall Venice glasses, and a bottle of Ma- 
 raschino bound with straw. I can see now the twinkle of the 
 liquor in the moonshine, as I poured it into the glass ; and I swal- 
 lowed two or three little cups of it, for my spirits were downcast. 
 Close to the tray of Maraschino stood — must I say it ? — a box, 
 a mere box of cedar, bound rudely together with pink paper, 
 branded with the name of " Hudson " on the side, and bearing 
 on the cover the arms of Spain. I thought I would just take 
 up the box and look in it. 
 
 Ah heaven ! there they were — a hundred and fifty of them, 
 in calm, comfortable rows : lovingly side by side they lay, with 
 the great moon shining down upon them — thin at the tip, full 
 at the waist, elegantly round and full, a little spot here and 
 there shining upon them — beauty spots upon the cheek of 
 Sylvia. The house was quite quiet. Dawdley always smoked 
 in his room ; — I had not smoked for four months and eleven 
 days. 
 
 JUU ^L. .AfU ^L. 
 
 •JT "7T "7v "7V *7v 
 
 When Lord Dawdley came into the study, he did not make 
 any remarks ; and oh, how easy my heart felt ! He was dressed 
 in his green boots, after Westall's picture, correctly. 
 
 "It's time to be off, George," said he ; "they told me you 
 were dressed long ago. Come up, my man, and get ready." 
 
 I rushed up into the dressing-room, and madly dashed my 
 head and arms into a pool of eau-de-Cologne. I drank, I be- 
 lieve, a tumblerful of it. I called for my clothes, and, strange 
 to say, they were gone. My servant brought them to me, how- 
 ever, saying that he had put them away — making some stupid 
 excuse. I put them on, not heeding them much, for I was half 
 
 tipsy with the excitement of the ci of the smo — of what 
 
 had taken place in Dawdley's study, and with the Maraschino 
 and eau-de-Cologne I had drunk. 
 
 " What a fine odor of lavender-water ! " said Dawdley, as 
 we rode in the carriage. 
 
 I put my head out of the window and shrieked out a laugh ; 
 but made no other reply. 
 
 " What's the joke, George ? " said Dawdley. " Did I say 
 anything witty ? " 
 
 " No," cried I, yelling still more wildly ; " nothing more 
 witty than usual." 36 
 
556 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 " Don't be severe, George," said he, with a mortified air: 
 
 and we drove on to B House. 
 
 $ # -# # # 
 
 There must have been something strange and wild in my 
 appearance, and those awful black plumes, as I passed through 
 the crowd ; for I observed people looking and making a strange 
 nasal noise (it is called sniffing, and I have no other more 
 delicate term for it), and making way as I pushed on. But I 
 moved forward very fiercely, for the wine, the Maraschino, the 
 eau-de-Cologne, and the — the excitement had rendered me al- 
 most wild ; and at length I arrived at the place where my Lady 
 of the Lake and her Harper stood. How beautiful she looked, 
 — all eyes were upon her as she stood blushing. When she 
 saw me, however, her countenance assumed the appearance of 
 alarm. " Good heavens, George ! " she said, stretching her 
 hand to me, " what makes you look so wild and pale ? " I ad- 
 vanced, and was going to take her hand, when she dropped it 
 with a scream. 
 
 " Ah — ah — ah ! " she said. " Mr. Fitz-Boodle, you've been 
 smoking ! " 
 
 There was an immense laugh from four hundred people 
 round about us, and the scoundrelly Dawdley joined in the 
 yell. I rushed furiously out, and, as I passed, hurtled over the 
 fat Hereditary Prince of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel. 
 
 " Es riecht hier ungeheuer stark von Tabak ! " I heard his 
 Highness say, as I madly flung myself through the aides-de- 
 camp. 
 
 The next day Mary M'Alister, in a note full of the most 
 odious good sense and sarcasm, reminded me of our agree- 
 ment ; said that she was quite convinced that we were not by 
 any means fitted for one another, and begged me to consider 
 myself henceforth quite free. The little wretch had the imper- 
 tinence to send me a dozen boxes of cigars, which, she said, 
 would console me for my lost love ; as she was perfectly cer- 
 tain that I was not mercenary, and that I loved tobacco better . 
 than any woman in the world. 
 
 I believe she was right, though I have never to this day 
 been able to pardon the scoundrelly stratagem by which Dawd- 
 ley robbed me of a wife and won one himself. As I was lying 
 on his sofa, looking at the moon and lost in a thousand happy 
 contemplations, Lord Dawdley, returning from the tailor's, saw 
 me smoking at my leisure. On entering his dressing-room, a 
 horrible treacherous thought struck him. " I must not betray 
 my friend," said he ; " but in love all is fair, and he shall be- 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 557 
 
 tray himself." There were my tartans, my cursed feathers, my 
 tiger-skin sporran, upon the sofa. 
 
 He called up my groom ; he made the rascal put on all my 
 clothes, and, giving him a guinea and four cigars, bade him 
 lock himself into the little pantry and smoke them without 
 taking the clothes off. John did so, and was very ill in conse- 
 quence, and so when I came to B House, my clothes were 
 
 redolent of tobacco, and I lost lovely Mary M'Alister. 
 
 I am godfather to one of Lady Dawdley's boys, and hers is 
 the only house where I am allowed to smoke unmolested ; but 
 I have never been able to admire Dawdley, a sly, sournois, spirit- 
 less, lily-livered fellow, that took his name off all his clubs the 
 year he married 
 
DOROTHEA. 
 
 Beyond sparring and cricket, I do not recollect I learned 
 anything useful at Slaughter-House School, where I was edu- 
 cated (according to an old family tradition, which sends par- 
 ticular generations of gentlemen to particular schools in the 
 kingdom ; and such is the force of habit, that though I 
 hate the place, I shall send my own son thither too, should I 
 marry any day). I say I learned little that was useful at 
 Slaughter-House, and nothing that was ornamental. I would 
 as soon have thought of learning to dance as of learning to 
 climb chimneys. Up to the age of seventeen, as I have shown, 
 I had a great contempt for the female race, and when age 
 brought with it warmer and juster sentiments, where was I ? — I 
 could no more dance nor prattle to a young girl than a young 
 bear could. I have seen the ugliest little low-bred wretches 
 carrying off young and lovely creatures, twirling with them in 
 waltzes, whispering between their glossy curls in quadrilles, 
 simpering with perfect equanimity, and cutting pas in that 
 abominable " cavalier seul," until my soul grew sick with fury. 
 In a word, I determined to learn to dance. 
 
 But such things are hard to be acquired late in life, when 
 the bones and habits of a man are formed. Look at a man in 
 a hunting-field who has not been taught to ride as a boy. All 
 the pluck and courage in the world will not make the man of 
 him that I am, or as any man who has had the advantages of 
 early education in the field. 
 
 In the same way with dancing. Though I went to w r ork with 
 immense energy, both in Brewer Street, Golden Square (with 
 an advertising fellow), and afterwards with old Coulon at Paris, 
 I never was able to be easy in dancing ; and though little 
 Coulon instructed me in a smile, it was a cursed forced one, 
 that looked like the grin of a person in extreme agony. I 
 once caught sight of it in a glass, and have hardly ever smiled 
 since. 
 
 (558) 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS, 
 
 559 
 
 Most young men about London have gone through that 
 strange secret ordeal of the dancing-school. I am given to 
 understand that young snobs from attorneys' offices, banks, 
 shops, and the like, make not the least mystery of their pro- 
 ceedings in the saltatory line, but trip gayly, with pumps in 
 hand, to some dancing-place about Soho, waltz and quadrille it 
 with Miss Greengrocer or Miss Butcher, and fancy they have 
 had rather a pleasant evening. There is one house in Dover 
 Street, where, behind a dirty curtain, such figures may be seen 
 hopping every night, to a perpetual fiddling ; and I have stood 
 sometimes wondering in the street, with about six blackguard 
 boys wondering too, at the strange contortions of the figures 
 jumping up and down to the mysterious squeaking of the kit. 
 Have they no shame ces ge?is ? are such degrading initiations to 
 be held in public ? No, the snob may, but the man of refined 
 •mind never can submit to show himself in public laboring at 
 the apprenticeship of this most absurd art. It is owing, per- 
 haps, to this modesty, and the fact that I have no sisters at 
 home, that I have never thoroughly been able to dance ; for 
 though I always arrive at the end of a quadrille (and thank 
 heaven for it too !) and though, 1 believe, I make no mistake in 
 particular, yet I solemnly confess I have never been able 
 thoroughly to comprehend the mysteries of it, or what I have 
 been about from the beginning to the end of the dance. I 
 always look at the lady opposite, and do as she does : if she did 
 not know how to dance par hasard, it would be all up. But if 
 they can't do anything else, women can dance : let us give them 
 that praise at least. 
 
 In London, then, for a considerable time, I used to get up 
 at eight o'clock in the morning, and pass an hour alone with 
 Mr. Wilkinson, of the Theatres Royal, in Golden Square ; — an 
 hour alone. It was " one, two, three ; one, two, three — now 
 jump — right foot more out, Mr. Smith ; and if you could try and 
 look a little more cheerful ; your partner, sir, would like you 
 hall the better." Wilkinson called me Smith, for the fact is, I 
 did not tell him my real name, nor (thank heaven !) does he 
 know it to this day. 
 
 I never breathed a word of my doings to any soul among 
 my friends ; once a pack of them met me in the strange neigh- 
 borhood, when, I am ashamed to say, I muttered something 
 about a " little French milliner," and walked off, looking as 
 knowing as I could. 
 
 In Paris, two Cambridge-men and myself, who happened to 
 be staying at a boarding-house together, agreed to go to Cou 
 
THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 Ion, a little creature of four feet high with a pigtail. His room 
 was hung round with glasses. He made us take off our coats, 
 and dance each before a mirror. Once he was standing before 
 us playing on his kit — the sight of the little master and the 
 pupil was so supremely ridiculous, that I burst into a yell of 
 laughter, which so offended the old man triat he walked away 
 abruptly, and begged me not to repeat my visits. Nor did I. 
 I was just getting into waltzing then, but determined to drop 
 waltzing, and content myself with quadrilling for the rest of my 
 days. 
 
 This was all very well in France and England ; but in Ger- 
 many what was I to do ? What did Hercules do when Om- 
 phale captivated him ? What did Rinaldo do when Armida 
 fixed upon him her twinkling eyes ? Nay, to cut all historical 
 instances short, by going at once to the earliest, what did Adam 
 do when Eve tempted him ? He yielded and became her slave ; 
 and so I do heartily trust every honest man will yield until the 
 end of the world — he has no heart who will not. When I was 
 in Germany, I say, I began to learn to waltz. The reader from 
 this will no doubt expect that some new love-adventures befell 
 me — nor will his gentle heart be disappointed. Two deep and 
 tremendous incidents occurred which shall be notified on the 
 present occasion. 
 
 The reader, perhaps, remembers the brief appearance of his 
 
 Highness the Duke of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel at B 
 
 House, in the first part of my Memoirs, at that unlucky period 
 of my life when the Duke was led to remark the odor about 
 my clothes, which lost me the hand of Mary M'Alister. I some- 
 how found myself in his Highness's territories, of which anybody 
 may read a description in the Almanack de Goiha. His High- 
 ness's father, as is well known, married Emelia Kunegunda 
 Thomasina Charleria Emanuela Louisa Georgina, Princess of 
 Saxe-Pumpernickel, and a cousin of his Highness the Duke. 
 Thus the two principalities were united under one happy sov- 
 ereign in the person of Philibert Sigismund Emanuel Maria, 
 the reigning Duke, who has received from his country (on 
 account of the celebrated pump which he erected in the market- 
 place of Kalbsbraten) the well-merited appellation of the Mag- 
 nificent. The allegory which the statues round about the pump 
 represent, is of a very mysterious and complicated sort. Mi- 
 nerva is observed leading up Ceres to a river-god, who has his 
 arms round the neck of Pomona; while Mars (in a full-bot- 
 tomed wig) is driven away by Peace, under whose mantle two 
 • o^ely children, representing the Duke's two provinces, repose. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE 'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 061 
 
 The celebrated Speck is, as need scarcely be said, the author 
 of this piece ; and of other magnificent edifices in the Residenz, 
 such as the guard-room, the skittle-hall (Gross her zoglich Kalbs- 
 braten pumpcrnickelisch Schkittelspielsaal), &c, and the superb 
 sentry-boxes before the Grand-Ducal Palace. He is Knight 
 Grand Cross of the Ancient Kartoffel Order, as, indeed, is 
 almost every one else in his Highness's dominions. 
 
 The town of Kalbsbraten contains a population of two 
 thousand inhabitants, and a palace which would accommodate 
 about six times that number. The principality sends three and 
 a half men to the German Confederation, who are commanded 
 by a General (Excellency), two Major-Generals, and sixty-four 
 officers of lower grades ; all noble, all knights of the Order, and 
 almost all chamberlains to his Highness the Grand Duke. An 
 excellent band of eighty performers is the admiration of the 
 surrounding country, and leads the Grand-Ducal troops to 
 battle in time of war. Only three of the contingent of soldiers 
 returned from the Battle of Waterloo, where they won much 
 honor ; the remainder was cut to pieces on that glorious day. 
 
 There is a chamber of representatives (which, however, 
 nothing can induce to sit), home and foreign ministers, residents 
 from neighboring courts, law presidents, town councils, &c, 
 all the adjuncts of a big or little government. The court has 
 its chamberlains and marshals, the Grand Duchess her noble 
 ladies in waiting, and blushing maids of honor. Thou wert 
 one, Dorothea ! • Dost remember the poor young Englander ? 
 We parted in anger ; but I think — I think thou hast not for- 
 gotten him. 
 
 The way in which I have Dorothea von Speck present to 
 my mind is this ; not as I first saw her in the garden — for her 
 hair was in bandeaux then, and a large Leghorn hat with a 
 deep ribbon covered half her fair face, — not in a morning-dress, 
 which, by the way, was none of the newest nor the best made 
 — but as I saw her afterwards at a ball at the pleasant splendid 
 little court, where she moved the most beautiful of the beauties 
 of Kalbsbraten. The grand saloon of the palace is lighted — 
 the Grand Duke and his officers, the Duchess and her ladies, 
 have passed through. I, in my uniform of the — th, and a 
 number of young fellows (who are evidently admiring my legs 
 and envying my distingue appearance), are waiting round the 
 entrance door, where a huge Heyduke is standing, and announc- 
 ing the titles of the guests as they arrive. 
 
 " Herr Oberhof- und- Bau- inspektorvon Speck ! " shouts 
 the Heyduke ; and 'the little Inspector comes in. His lady is 
 
562 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 on his arm — huge, in towering plumes, and her favorite cos- 
 tume of light-blue. Fair women always dress in light-blue or 
 light-green ; and Frau von Speck is very stout. 
 
 But who comes behind her ? Lieber Himmel ? It is Doro- 
 thea ! Did earth, among all the flowers which have sprung 
 from its bosom, produce ever one more beautiful ? She was 
 none of your heavenly beauties, I tell you. She had nothing 
 ethereal about her. No, sir ; she was of the earth earthy, and 
 must have weighed ten stone four or live, if she weighed an 
 ounce. She had none of your Chinese feet, nor waspy, un- 
 healthy waists, which those may admire who will. No : Dora's 
 foot was a good stout one ; you could see her ankle (if her robe 
 was short enough) without the aid of a microscope ; and that 
 envious little, sour, skinny Amalia von Mangelwurzel used to 
 hold up her four fingers and say (the two girls were most inti- 
 mate friends, of course), " Dear Dorothea's vaist is so much 
 dicker as dis." And so I have no doubt it was. 
 
 But what then ? Goethe sings in one of his divine epi- 
 grams : — 
 
 14 Epicures vaunting their taste, entitle me vulgar and savage, 
 
 Give them their Brussels-sprouts, but I am contented with cabbage." 
 
 I hate your little women — that is, when I am in love with a 
 tall one ; and who would not have loved Dorothea ? 
 
 Fancy her, then, if you please, about five feet four inches 
 high — fancy her in the family color of light-blue, a little scarf 
 covering the most brilliant shoulders in the world : and a pair 
 of gloves clinging close round an arm that may, perhaps, be 
 somewhat too large now, but that Juno might have envied 
 then. After the fashion of young ladies on the continent, she 
 wears no jewels or gimcracks : her only ornament is a wreath 
 of vine-leaves in her hair, with little clusters of artificial grapes. 
 Down on her shoulders falls the brown hair, in rich liberal clus- 
 ters ; all that health, and good-humor, and beauty can do for 
 her face, kind nature has done for hers. Her eyes are frank, 
 sparkling, and kind. As for her cheeks, what paint-box or 
 dictionary contains pigments or words to describe their red ? 
 They say she opens her mouth and smiles always to show the 
 dimples in her cheeks. Psha ! she smiles because she is hap- 
 py, and kind, and good-humored, and not because her teeth are 
 little pearls. 
 
 All the young fellows crowd up to ask her to dance, and, 
 taking from her waist a little mother-of-pearl remembrancer, 
 she notes them down. Old Schnabel for the polonaise ; Klin* 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 5 6 3 
 
 genspohr, first waltz ; Haarbart, second waltz ; Count Horn- 
 pieper (the Danish envoy), third ; and so on. I have said 
 why /could not ask her to waltz, and I turned away with a 
 pang, and played ecarte with Colonel Trumpenpack all night. 
 
 In thus introducing this lovely creature in her ball-costume, 
 •I have been somewhat premature, and had best go back to the 
 beginning of the history of my acquaintance with her. 
 
 Dorothea, then, was the daughter of the celebrated Speck 
 before mentioned. It is one of the oldest names in Germany, 
 where her father's and mother's houses, those of Speck and 
 Eyer, are loved wherever they are known. Unlike his warlike 
 progenitor, Lorenzo von Speck, Dorothea's father had early 
 shown himself a passionate admirer of art ; had quitted home 
 to study architecture in Italy, and had become celebrated 
 throughout Europe, and been appointed Oberhofarchitect and 
 Kunst- und- Bau-inspektor of the united principalities. They 
 are but four miles wide, and his genius has consequently but 
 little room to play. What art can do, however, he does. The 
 palace is frequently whitewashed under his eyes ; the theatre 
 painted occasionally; the noble public buildings erected, of 
 which I have already made mention. 
 
 I had come to Kalbsbraten, scarce knowing whither I went ; 
 and having, in about ten minutes, seen the curiosities of the 
 place (I did not care to see the King's palace, for chairs and 
 tables have no great charm for me), I had ordered horses ; and 
 wanted to get on I cared not whither, when Fate threw Doro- 
 thea in my way. I was yawning back to the hotel through the 
 palace-garden, a valet-de-place at my side, when I saw a young 
 lady seated under a tree reading a novel, her mamma on the 
 same bench (a fat woman in light-blue) knitting a stocking, and 
 two officers, choked in their stays, with various orders on their 
 spinach-colored coats, standing by in first attitudes : the one 
 was caressing the fat-lady-in-blue's little dog ; the other was 
 twirling his own mustache, which was already as nearly as pos- 
 sible curled into his own eye. j 
 
 I don't know how it is, but I hate to see men evidently inti- 
 mate with nice-looking women, and on good terms with them- 
 selves. There's something annoying in their cursed compla- 
 cency — their evident sunshiny happiness. I've no woman to 
 make sunshine .for me; and yet my heart tells me that not one, 
 but several such suns, would do good to my system. 
 
 " Who are those pert-looking officers," says I, peevishly, 
 to the guide, " who are talking to those vulgar-looking wo- 
 men ? " 
 
5 6 4 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 "The big one, with the epaulets, is Major von Schnabel ; 
 the little one, with the pale face, is Stiefel von Klingenspohr." 
 " And the big blue woman ? " 
 
 "The Grand-Ducal Pumpernickelian-court-architectress and 
 Upper-Palace-and-building-inspectress Von Speck, born V. 
 Eyer," replied the guide. " Your well-born honor has seen 
 the pump in the market-place ; that is the work of the great 
 Von Speck." 
 
 66 And yonder young person ? " 
 
 " Mr. Court-architect's daughter ; the Fraulein Dorothea." 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
 Dorothea looked up from her novel here, and turned her 
 face towards the stranger who was passing, and then blushing 
 turned it down again. Schnabel looked at me with a scowl, 
 Klingenspohr with a simper, the dog with a yelp, the fat lady in 
 blue just gave one glance, and seemed, I thought, rather well 
 pleased. " Silence, Lischen ! " said she to the dog. " Go on, 
 darling Dorothea," she added, to her daughter, who continued 
 her novel. 
 
 Her voice was a little tremulous, but very low and rich. 
 For some reason or other, on getting back to the inn, I coun- 
 termanded the horses, and said I would stay for the night. 
 
 I not only stayed that night, but many, many afterwards ; 
 and as for the manner in which I became acquainted with the 
 Speck family, why it was a good joke against me at the time, 
 and I did not like then to have it known ; but now it may as 
 well come out at once. Speck, as everybody knows, lives in 
 the market-place, opposite his grand work of art, the town 
 pump, or fountain. I bought a large sheet of paper, and hav- 
 ing a knack at drawing, sat down, with the greatest gravity, 
 before the pump, and sketched it for several hours. I knew it 
 would bring out old Speck to see. At first he contented him- 
 self by flattening his nose against the window-glasses of his 
 study, and looking what the Englander was about. Then he 
 put on his gray cap with the huge green shade, and sauntered to 
 the door : then he walked round me, and formed one of a band 
 of street-idlers who were looking on : then at last he could re- 
 strain himself no more, but, pulling off his cap, with a low bow, 
 began to discourse upon arts, and architecture in particular. 
 
 " It is curious," says he, " that you have taken the same 
 view of which a print has been engraved." 
 
 M That is extraordinary," says I (though it wasn't, for I had 
 traced my drawing at a window off the very print in question). 
 I added that I was, like all the world, immensely struck with 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 565 
 
 the beauty of the edifice ; heard of it at Rome, where it was 
 considered to be superior to any of the celebrated fountains of 
 that capital of the fine arts ; finally, that unless perhaps the 
 celebrated fountain of Aldgate in London might compare with 
 it, Kalbsbraten building, except in that case, was incomparable. 
 
 This speech I addressed in French, of which the worthy 
 Hofarchitect understood somewhat, and continuing to reply in 
 German, our conversation grew pretty close. It is singular 
 that I can talk to a man and pay him compliments with the 
 utmost gravity, whereas, to a woman, I at once lose all self- 
 possession, and have never said a pretty thing in my life. 
 
 My operations on old Speck were so conducted, that in a 
 quarter of an hour I had elicited from him an invitation to go 
 over the town with him, and see its architectural beauties. So we 
 walked through the huge half-furnished chambers of the palace, 
 we panted up the copper pinnacle of the church-tower, we went 
 to see the Museum and Gymnasium, and coming back into the 
 market-place again, what could the Hofarchitect do but offer 
 me a glass of wine and a seat in his house ? He introduced 
 me to his Gattinn, his Leocadia (the fat woman in blue), " as 
 a young world-observer, and worthy art-friend, a young scion 
 of British Adel, who had come to refresh himself at the Urquel- 
 len of his race, and see his brethren of the great family of Her- 
 mann!" 
 
 I saw instantly that the old fellow was of a romantic turn, 
 this rodomontade to his lady : nor was she a whit less so ; nor 
 was Dorothea less sentimental than her mamma. She knew 
 everything regarding the literature of Albion, as she was 
 pleased to call it ; and asked me news of all the famous writers 
 there. I told her that Miss Edgeworth was one of the loveli- 
 est young beauties at our court ; I described to her Lady Mor- 
 gan, herself as beautiful as the wild Irish girl she drew ; I 
 promised to give her a signature of Mrs. Hemans (which I 
 wrote for her that very evening) ; and described a fox-hunt, at 
 which I had seen Thomas Moore and Samuel Rogers, Esquires ; 
 and a boxing-match, in which the athletic author of " Pelham " 
 was pitched against the hardy mountain bard, Wordsworth. 
 You see my education was not neglected, for though I have 
 never read the works of the above-named ladies and gentlemen, 
 yet I knew their names well enough. 
 
 Time passed away. I, perhaps, was never so brilliant in 
 conversation as when excited by the Asmanshauser and the 
 brilliant eyes of Dorothea that day. She and her parents had 
 dined at their usual heathen hour; but I was, I don't care to 
 
S 66 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 own it, so smitten, that for the first time in my life I did not 
 even miss the meal, and talked on until six o'clock, when tea 
 was served. Madame Speck said they always drank it ; and 
 so placing a teaspoonful of bohea in a cauldron of water, she 
 placidly handed out this decoction, which we took with cakes 
 and tartines. I leave you to imagine how disgusted Klingen- 
 spohr and Schnabel looked when they stepped in as usual that 
 evening to make their party of whist with the Speck family ! 
 Down they were obliged to sit ; and the lovely Dorothea, for 
 that night, declined to play altogether, and — sat on the sofa 
 by me. 
 
 What we talked about, who shall tell ? I would not, for my 
 part, break the secret of one of those delicious conversations, 
 of which I and every man in his time have held so many. 
 You begin, very probably, about the weather — 'tis a common 
 subject, but what sentiments the genius of Love can fling into 
 it ! I have often, for my part, said to the girl of my heart for 
 the time being, " It's a fine clay," or, " It's a rainy morning ! " 
 in a way that has brought tears to her eyes. Something beats 
 in your heart, and twangle ! a corresponding string thrills and 
 echoes in hers. You offer her anything — her knitting-needles, 
 a slice of bread-and-butter — what causes the grateful blush 
 with which she accepts the one or the other? Why, she sees 
 your heart handed over to her upon the needles, aixl the 
 bread-and-butter is to her a sandwich with love inside it. If 
 you say to your grandmother, " Ma'am, it's a fine day," or 
 what not, she would find in the words no other meaning than 
 their outward and visible one ; but say so to the girl you love, 
 and she understands a thousand mystic meanings in them. 
 Thus, in a word, though Dorothea and I did not, probably, on 
 the first night of our meeting, talk of anything more than the 
 weather, or trumps, or some subjects which to such listeners as 
 .Schnabel and Klingenspohr and others might appear quite 
 ordinary, yet to us they had a different signification, of which 
 Love alone held the key. 
 
 Without further ado then, after the occurrences of that 
 evening, I determined on staying at Kalbsbraten, and presenting 
 my card the next day to the Hof-Marshal, requesting to have 
 the honor of being, presented to his Highness the Prince, at 
 one of whose court-balls my Dorothea appeared as I have 
 described her. 
 
 It was summer when I first arrived at Kalbsbraten. The 
 little court was removed to Siegmundslust, his Highness's 
 country-seat : no balls were taking place, and, in consequence, 
 
FITZ-B O ODLE 'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 567 
 
 I held my own with Dorothea pretty well. I treated her ad- 
 mirer, Lieutenant Klingenspohr, with perfect scorn, had a 
 manifest advantage over Major Schnabel, and used somehow 
 to meet the fair one every day, walking in company with her 
 mamma in the palace garden, or sitting under the acacias, with 
 Belotte in her mother's lap, and the favorite romance beside 
 her. Dear, dear Dorothea ! what a number of novels she must 
 have read in her time ! She confessed to me that she had 
 been in love with Uncas, with Saint Preux, with Ivanhoe, and 
 with hosts of 'German heroes of romance; and when I asked 
 her if she, whose heart was so tender towards imaginary 
 youths, had never had a preference for any one of her living 
 adorers, she only looked, and blushed, and sighed, and said 
 nothing. 
 
 You see I had got on as well as man could do, until the 
 confounded court season and the balls began, and then — why, 
 then came my usual luck. 
 
 Waltzing is a part of a German girl's life. With the best 
 will in the world — which, I doubt not, she entertains for me, 
 for I never put the matter of marriage directly to her — Doro- 
 thea could not go to balls and not waltz. It was madness to 
 me to see her whirling round the room with officers, attaches, 
 prim little chamberlains with gold keys and embroidered coats, 
 her hair floating in the wind, her hand reposing upon the 
 abominable little dancer's epaulet, her good-humored face 
 lighted up with still greater satisfaction. I saw that I must 
 learn to waltz too, .and took my measures accordingly. 
 
 The leader of the ballet at the Kalbsbraten theatre in my 
 time was Springbock, from Vienna. He had been a regular 
 Zephyr once, 'twas said, in his younger days ; and though he is 
 now fifteen stone weight, I can, helas ! recommend him con- 
 scientiously as a master ; and I determined to take some lessons 
 from him in the art which I had neglected so foolishly in early, 
 life. 
 
 It may be said, without vanity, that I was an apt pupil, and 
 in the course of half a dozen lessons I had arrived at very con- 
 siderable agility in the waltzing line, and could twirl round the 
 room with, him at such a pace as made the old gentleman pant 
 again, and hardly left him breath enough to puff out a compli- 
 ment to his pupil. I may say, that in a single week I became 
 an expert waltzer ; but as I wished, when I came out publicly 
 in that character, to be quite sure of myself, and as I had 
 hitherto practised not with a lady, but with a very fat old man, 
 it was agreed that he should bring a lady of his acquaintance 
 
568 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 to perfect me, and accordingly, at my eighth lesson, Madame 
 Springbock herself came to the dancing-room, and the old 
 Zephyr performed on the violin. 
 
 If any man ventures the least sneer with regard to this lady, 
 or dares to insinuate anything disrespectful to her or myself, 
 I say at once that he is an impudent calumniator. Madame 
 Springbock is old enough to be my grandmother, and as ugly a 
 woman as I ever saw ; but, though old, she was passio?i?iee pour la 
 danse, and not having (on account, doubtless, of her age and un- 
 prepossessing appearance) many opportunities for indulging in 
 her favorite pastime, made up for lost time by immense activity 
 whenever she could get a partner. In vain, at the end of the 
 hour, would Springbock exclaim, " Amalia, my soul's blessing, 
 the time is up ! " " Play on, dear Alphonso ! " would the old 
 lady exclaim, whisking me round : and though I had not the 
 least pleasure in such a homely partner, yet for the sake of 
 perfecting myself, I waltzed and waltzed with her, until we 
 were both half dead with fatigue. 
 
 At the end of three weeks I could waltz as well as any man 
 in Germany. 
 
 At the end of four weeks there was a grand ball at court in 
 honor of H. H. the Prince of Dummerland and his Princess, 
 and then I determined I would come out in public. I dressed 
 myself with unusual care and splendor. My hair was curled 
 and my mustache dyed to a nicety ; and of the four hundred 
 gentlemen present, if the girls of Kalbsbraten did select one 
 who wore an English hussar uniform, why should I disguise 
 the fact ? In spite of my silence, the news had somehow got 
 abroad, as news will in such small towns, — Herr von Fitz- 
 Boodle was coming out in a waltz that evening. His Highness 
 the Duke even made an allusion to the circumstance. When 
 on this eventful night, I went, as usual, and made him my bow 
 in the presentation, " Vous, monsieur," said he — " vous qui 
 etes si jeune, devez aimer la danse." I blushed as red as my 
 trousers, and bowing, went away. 
 
 I stepped up to Dorothea. Heavens ! how beautiful she 
 looked ! and how archly she smiled as, with a thumping heart, 
 I asked her hand for a waltz! She took out her little mother- 
 of-pearl dancing-book, she wrote down my name with her pen- 
 cil : we were engaged for the fourth waltz, and till then I left 
 her to other partners. 
 
 Who says that his first waltz is not a nervous moment ? I 
 vow I was more excited than by any duel I ever fought. I 
 would not dance any contre-danse or galop. I repeatedly 
 
FITZ-BOQDLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 went to the buffet and got glasses of punch (dear simple Ger- 
 many ! 'tis with rum-punch and egg-flip thy children strengthen 
 themselves for the dance !). I went into the ball-room and 
 looked — the couples bounded before me, the music clashed 
 and rung in my ears — all was fiery, feverish, indistinct. The 
 gleaming white columns, the polished oaken floors in which 
 the innumerable tapers were reflected — altogether swam before 
 my eyes, and I was in a pitch of madness almost ^when the 
 fourth waltz at length came. " Will you dance with your sword 
 on ? n said the sweetest voice in the world. I blushed, and 
 stammered, and trembled, as I laid down that weapon and my 
 cap, and hark ! the music began ! 
 
 Oh, how my hand trembled as I placed it round the waist 
 of Dorothea ! With my left hand I took her right — did she 
 squeeze it ? I think she did — to this day I think she did. 
 Away we went ! we tripped over the polished oak floor like two 
 young fairies. " Courage, monsieur," said she, with her sweet 
 smile. Then it was " Tres bieri, monsieur." Then I heard 
 the voices humming and buzzing about. " II danse bien, 
 l'Anglais." " Ma foi, oui," says another. On we went, 
 twirling and twisting, and turning and whirling ; couple after 
 couple dropped panting off. Little Klingenspohr himself was 
 obliged to give in. All eyes were upon us — we were going 
 round alone. Dorothea was almost exhausted, when 
 
 aL . JJ« j£> . ' Jj£» 
 
 "7V *7v *7V *7v *7v 
 
 I have been sitting for two hours since I marked the aste- 
 risks, thinking — thinking. I have committed crimes in my life 
 — who hasn't ? But talk of remorse, what remorse is there like 
 that which rushes up in a flood to my brain sometimes when I 
 am alone, and causes me to blush when I'm abed in the dark ? 
 
 I fell, sir, on that infernal slippery floor. Down we came 
 like shot ; we rolled over and over in the midst of the ball-room, 
 the music going ten miles an hour, 800 pairs of eyes fixed upon 
 us, a cursed shriek of laughter bursting out from all sides. 
 Heavens ! how clear I heard it, as we went on rolling and roll- 
 ing ! " My child ! my Dorothea ! " shrieked out Madame Speck, 
 rushing forward, and as soon as she had breath to do so, 
 Dorothea of course screamed too ] then she fainted, then she 
 was disentangled from out my spurs, and borne off by a bevy 
 of tittering women. " Clumsy brute ! " said Madame Speck, 
 turning her fat back upon me. I remained upon my seant, 
 wild, ghastly, looking about. It was all up with me — I knew it 
 was. I wished I could have died there, and I wish so still. 
 
 Klingenspohr married her, that is the long and short ; but 
 
57° 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 before that event I placed a sabre-cut across the young scoun- 
 drel's nose, which destroyed his beauty forever. 
 
 O Dorothea ! you can't forgive me — you oughtn't to forgive 
 me ; but I love you madly still. 
 
 My next flame was Ottilia : but let us keep her for another 
 number : mv feelings overpower me at uresent. 
 
OTTILIA. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE ALBUM THE MEDITERRANEAN HEATH. 
 
 Travelling some little time back in a wild part of Conne- 
 mara, where I had been for fishing and seal-shooting, I had the 
 good luck to get admission to the chateau of a hospitable Irish 
 gentleman, and to procure some news of my once dear Ottilia. 
 
 Yes, of no other than Ottilia v. Schlippenschlopp, the Muse 
 of Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickel, the friendly little town far away 
 in Sachsenland, — where old Speck built the town pump, where 
 Klingenspohr was slashed across the nose, — where Dorothea 
 
 rolled over and over in that horrible waltz with Fitz-Boo 
 
 Psha ! — away with the recollection : but wasn't it strange to get 
 news of Ottilia in the wildest corner of Ireland, where I never 
 should have thought to hear her gentle name ? Walking on 
 that very Urrisbeg Mountain under whose shadow I heard 
 Ottilia's name, Mackay, the learned author of the " Flora Pat- 
 landica," discovered the Mediterranean heath, — such a flower 
 as I have often plucked on the sides of Vesuvius, and as Pros- 
 erpine, no doubt, amused herself in gathering as she strayed 
 in the fields of Enna. Here it is — the self-same flower, peering 
 out at the Atlantic from Roundstone Bay • here, too, in this 
 wild lonely place, nestles the fragrant memory of my Ottilia ! 
 
 In a word, after a day on Ballylynch Lake (where, with a 
 brown fly and a single hair, I killed fourteen salmon, the smallest 
 twenty-nine pounds weight, the largest somewhere about five 
 stone ten), my young friend Blake Bodkin Lynch Browne (a fine 
 lad who has made his continental tour) and I adjourned, after 
 dinner, to the young gentleman's private room, for the purpose 
 of smoking a certain cigar ; which is never more pleasant than 
 
 37 (5 7 J > 
 
572 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 after a hard day's sport, or a day spent in-doors, or after a good 
 dinner, or a bad one, or at night when you are tired, or in the 
 morning when you are fresh, or of a cold winter's day, or of a 
 scorching summer's afternoon, or at any other moment you 
 choose to fix upon. 
 
 What should I see in Blake's room but a rack of pipes, such 
 as are to be found in almost all the bachelors' rooms in Ger- 
 many, and amongst them was a porcelain pipe-head bearing the 
 image of the Kalbsbraten pump! There it was: the old spout, 
 the old familiar allegory of Mars, Bacchus, Apollo virorum, and 
 the rest, that I had so often looked at from Hofarchitect Speck's 
 window, as I sat there by the side of Dorothea. The old gentle- 
 man had given me one of these very pipes ; for he had hundreds 
 of them painted, wherewith he used to gratify almost every 
 stranger who came into his native town. 
 
 Any old place with which I have once been familiar (as, per- 
 haps, I have before stated in these " Confessions " — but never 
 mind that) is in some sort dear to me : and were I Lord Shoot- 
 ingcastle or Colonel Popland, I think after a residence of six 
 months there I should love the Fleet Prison. As I saw the old 
 familiar pipe, I took it down, and crammed it with Cavendish 
 tobacco, and lay down on a sofa, and puffed away for an hour 
 wellnigh, thinking of old, old times. 
 
 " You're very entertaining to-night, Fitz," says young Blake, 
 who had made several tumblers of punch for me, which I had 
 gulped down without saying a word. " Don't ye think ye'd be 
 more easy in bed than snorting and sighing there on my sofa, 
 and groaning fit to make me go hang myself ? " 
 
 " I am thinking, Blake," says I, " about Pumpernickel, where 
 old Speck gave you this pipe." 
 
 " 'Deed he did," replies the young man • " and did ye know 
 the old Bar'n ? " 
 
 " I did," said I. " My friend, I have been by the banks of 
 the Bendemeer. Tell me, are the nightingales still singing 
 there, and do the roses still bloom ? " 
 
 "The hwhatV cries Blake. "What the divvle, Fitz, are 
 you growling about ? Bendemeer Lake's in Westmoreland, as I 
 preshume • and as for roses and nightingales, I give ye my word 
 it's Greek ye're talking to me." And Greek it very possibly 
 was, for my young friend, though as good across country as any 
 man in his county, has not the fine feeling and tender percep- 
 tion of beauty which may be found elsewhere, dear madam. 
 
 " Tell me about Speck, Blake, and Kalbsbraten, and 
 Dorothea, and Klingenspohr her husband." 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 573 
 
 " He with the cut across the nose, is it ? " cries Blake. " I 
 know him well, and his old wife." 
 
 • - His old what, sir ! " cries Fitz-Boodle, jumping up from his 
 seat. " Klingenspohr's wife old ! — Is he married again ? — Is 
 Dorothea, then, d-d-dead ? " 
 
 " Dead ! — no more dead than you are, only I take her to be 
 five-and-thirty. And when a woman has had nine children, you 
 know, she looks none the younger ; and I can tell ye, that when 
 she trod on my corruns at a ball at the Grand Juke's, I felt 
 something heavier than a feather on my foot." 
 
 " Madame de Klingenspohr, then," replied I, hesitating 
 somewhat, * " has grown rather — rather st-st-out ? " I could 
 hardly get out the out, and trembled I don't know why as I 
 asked the question. 
 
 " Stout, begad ! — she weighs fourteen stone, saddle and 
 bridle. That's right, down goes my pipe ; flop ! crash falls the 
 tumbler into the fender ! Break away, my boy, and remember, 
 whoever breaks a glass here pays a dozen." 
 
 The fact was, that the announcement of Dorothea's changed 
 condition caused no small disturbance within me, and I 
 expressed it in the abrupt manner mentioned by young Blake. 
 
 Roused thus from my reverie, I questioned the young fellow 
 about his residence at Kalbsbraten, which has been always since 
 the war a favorite place for our young gentry, and heard with 
 some satisfaction that Potzdorff was married to the Behrenstein, 
 Haarbart had left the dragoons, the Crown Prince had broken 
 
 with the , but mum ! of what interest are all these details 
 
 to the reader, who has never been at friendly little Kalbs- 
 braten ? 
 
 Presently Lynch reaches me down one of the three books 
 that formed his library (the " Racing Calendar " and a book of 
 fishing-flies making up the remainder of the set). " And there's 
 my album," says he. " You'll find plenty of hands in it that 
 you'll recognize, as you are an old Pumpernickelaner." And 
 so I did, in truth : it was a little book after the fashion of Ger- 
 man albums, in which good simple little ledger every friend or 
 acquaintance of the owner inscribes a poem or stanza from some 
 favorite poet or philosopher with the transcriber's own name, 
 as thus : — 
 
 " To the true house-friend, and beloved Irelandish youth. 
 
 " ' Sera nunquam est ad bonos mores via? 
 
 Wackerbart, Professor at the 
 Grand-Ducal Kalbsbraten-Pumpernickelisch Gymnasium." 
 
574 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 Another writes, — 
 
 " ' Wander ou rofes and forget me not?' 
 
 Amalia v. Nachtmutze. 
 Geb v. Schlafrock," 
 
 with a flourish, and the picture mayhap of a rose. Let the 
 reader imagine some hundreds of these interesting inscriptions, 
 and he will have an idea of the book. 
 
 Turning over the leaves I came presently on Dorotheas 
 hand. There it was, the little neat, pretty handwriting, the 
 dear old up-and-down-strokes that I had not looked at for 
 many a long year, — the Mediterranean heath, which grew on 
 the sunniest banks of Fitz- Boodle's existence, and here found, 
 dear, dear little sprig ! in rude Galwagian bog-lands. 
 
 " Look at the other side of the page," says Lynch, rather 
 sarcastically (for I don't care to confess that I kissed the name 
 of " Dorothea v. Klingenspohr, born v. Speck " written under 
 an extremely feeble passage of verse.) " Look at the other 
 side of the paper ! " 
 
 I did, and what do you think I saw ? 
 
 I saw the writing of five of the little Klingenspohrs, who 
 have all sprung up since my time. 
 
 .V, J*. Jfe ' . ' .t Jfe J£ 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! haw ! " screamed the impertinent young Irish- 
 man, and the story was all over Connemara and Joyce's Coun- 
 try in a day after. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 OTTILIA IN PARTICULAR. 
 
 Some kind critic who peruses these writings will, doubtless, 
 have the goodness to point out that the simile of the Mediter- 
 ranean heath is applied to two personages in this chapter — to 
 Ottilia and Dorothea, and say, Psha ! the fellow is but a poor 
 unimaginative creature not to be able to find a simile apiece at 
 least for the girls ; how much better would we have done the 
 business! 
 
 Well, it is a very pretty simile. The girls were rivals, were 
 beautiful, I loved them both, — which should have the sprig of 
 heath ? Mr. Cruikshank (who has taken to serious painting) 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 575 
 
 is getting ready for the exhibition a fine piece, representing 
 Fitz-Boodle on the Urrisbeg Mountain, county Galway, Ireland, 
 with a sprig of heath in his hand, hesitating, like Paris, on 
 which of the beauties he should bestow it. In the background 
 is a certain animal between two bundles of hay ; but that I 
 take to represent the critic, puzzled to which of my young 
 beauties to assign the choice. 
 
 If Dorothea had been as rich as Miss Coutts, and had 
 come to me the next day after the accident at the ball and 
 said, (c George, will you marry me ?" it must not be supposed I 
 would have done any such thing. That dream had vanished 
 forever : rage and pride took the place of love ; and the only 
 chance I had of recovering from my dreadful discomfiture was 
 by bearing it bravely, and trying, if possible, to awaken a little 
 compassion in my favor. I limped home (arranging my scheme 
 with great presence of mind as I actually sat spinning there 
 on the ground) — I limped home, sent for Pflastersticken, the 
 court-surgeon, and addressed him to the following effect : 
 " Pflastersticken," says I, " there has been an accident at court 
 of which you will hear. You will send in leeches, pills, and 
 the deuce knows what, and you will say that I have dislocated 
 my leg : for some days you will state that I am in considerable 
 danger. You are a good fellow and a man of courage I know, 
 for which very reason you can appreciate those qualities in 
 another ; so mind, if you breathe a word of my secret, either 
 you or I must lose a life." 
 
 Away went the surgeon, and the next day all Kalbsbraten 
 knew that I was on the point of death : I had been delirious 
 all night, had had eighty leeches, besides I don't know how 
 much medicine ; but the Kalbsbrateners knew to a scruple. 
 Whenever anybody was ill, this little kind society knew what 
 medicines were prescribed. Everybody in the town knew what 
 everybody had for dinner. If Madame Rumpel had her satin 
 dyed ever so quietly, the whole society was on the qui vive ; if 
 Countess Pultuski sent to Berlin for a new set of teeth, not a 
 person in Kalbsbraten but what was ready to compliment her 
 as she put them on ; if PotzdorfT paid his tailor's bill, or Muf- 
 finstein bought a piece of black wax for his mustaches, it was 
 the talk of the little city. And so, of course, was my accident. 
 In their sorrow for my misfortune, Dorothea's was quite for- 
 gotten, and those eighty leeches saved me. I became inter- 
 esting • I had cards left at my door ; and I kept my room for 
 a fortnight, during which time I read every one of M. Kotze- 
 bue's plays. 
 
576 
 
 THE FITZ-B O ODLE PAPERS. 
 
 At the end of that period I was convalescent, though still a 
 little lame. I called at old Speck's house and apologized for 
 my clumsiness, with the most admirable coolness \ I appeared 
 at court, and stated calmly that I did not intend to dance any 
 more ; and when Klingensphor grinned, I told that young gen- 
 tlemen such a piece of my mind as led to his wearing a large 
 sticking-plaster patch on his nose : which was split as neatly 
 down the middle as you would split an orange at dessert. In 
 a word, what man could do to repair my defeat, I did. 
 
 There is but one thing now of which I am ashamed — of 
 those killing epigrams which I wrote (mon Dieu / must I own 
 it ? — but even the fury of my anger proves the extent of my 
 love I) against the Speck family. They were handed about in 
 confidence at court, and made a frightful sensation : 
 
 " Is it possible ? 
 
 " There happened at Schloss P-mp-rn-ckel, 
 A strange mishap our sides to tickle, 
 
 And set the peopie in a roar ; — 
 A strange caprice of Fortune fickle : 
 I never thought at Pumpernickel 
 
 To see a Speck upon the floor ! " 
 
 ° La Perfide Albion ; or, a Caution to Walzters. 
 
 " 1 Come to the dance,' the Briton said, 
 And forward D-r-th-a led, 
 
 Fair, fresh, and three-and-twenty ! 
 Ah, girls, beware of Britons red ! 
 What wonder that ft turned her head? 
 
 Sat verbum sapienti." 
 
 " Reasons for not Marrying. 
 
 " ' The lovely Miss S. 
 Will surely say " yes," 
 You've on]y to ask and try ; ' 
 4 That subject we'll quit,' 
 Says Georgy the wit, 
 1 I've a much better Spec in my eye ! " 
 
 This last epigram especially was voted so killing that it flew 
 like wildfire ; and I know for a fact that our Charge-d' Affaires 
 at Kalbsbraten sent a courier express with it to the Foreign 
 Office in England, whence, through our amiable Foreign Secre- 
 tary, Lord P-lm-rston, it made its way into even 7 fashionable 
 circle : nav. I have reason to believe caused a smile on the cheek 
 of R-y-lty itself. Now that Time has taken away the sting of 
 these epigrams, there can be no harm in giving them ; and 
 
 'twas well enough to endeavor to hide under the lash of wit the 
 
 <_> 
 
 bitter pangs of humiliation : but my heart bleeds now to think 
 that I should have ever brought a tear on the gentle cheek of 
 Dorothea. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE 9 S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 577 
 
 Not content with this — with humiliating her by satire, and 
 with wounding her accepted lover across the nose — I deter- 
 mined to carry my revenge still farther, and to fall in love with 
 somebody else. This person was Ottilia v. Schlippenschlopp. 
 
 Otho Sigismund Freyherr von Schlippenschlopp, Knight 
 Grand Cross of the Ducal Order of the Two-Necked Swan of 
 Pumpernickel, of the Porc-et-Siflet of Kalbsbraten, Commander 
 of the George and Blue-Boar of Dummerland, Excellency, and 
 High Chancellor of the United Duchies, lived in the second 
 floor of a house in the Schwapsgasse ; where, with his private 
 income and his revenues as Chancellor, amounting together to 
 300/. per annum, he maintained such a state as very few other 
 officers of the Grand Ducal Crown could exhibit. The Baron 
 is married to Maria Antoinetta, a Countess of the house of 
 Kartoffelstadt, branches of which have taken root all over Ger- 
 many. He has no sons, and but one daughter, the Fraulein 
 Ottilia. 
 
 The Chancellor is a worthy old gentleman, too fat and 
 wheezy to preside at the Privy Council, fond of his pipe, his 
 ease, and his rubber. His lady is a very tali and pale Roman- 
 nosed Countess, who looks as gentle as Mrs. Robert Roy, 
 where, in the novel, she is for putting Baillie Nicol Jarvie into 
 the lake, and who keeps the honest Chancellor in the greatest 
 order. The Fraulein Ottilia had not arived at Kalbsbraten 
 when the little affair between me and Dorothea was going on ; 
 or rather had only just come in for the conclusion of it, being 
 presented for the first time that year at the ball where I — 
 where I met with my accident. 
 
 At the time when the Countess was young, it was not the 
 fashion in her country to educate the young ladies so highly as 
 since they have been educated ; and provided they could waltz, 
 sew, and make pudding, they were thought to be decently bred ; 
 being seldom called upon for algebra or Sanscrit in the dis- 
 charge of the honest duties of their lives. But Fraulein Ot- 
 tilia was of the modern school in this respect, and came back 
 from her pension at Strasburg speaking all the languages, dab- 
 bling in all the sciences ■ an historian, a poet, — a blue of the 
 ultramarinest sort, in a word. What a difference there was, 
 for instance, between poor, simple Dorothea's love of novel- 
 reading and the profound encyclopaedic learning of Ottilia ! 
 
 Before the latter arrived from Strasburg (where she had 
 been under the care of her aunt the canoness, Countess Ottilia 
 of Kartoffelstadt, to whom I here beg to offer my humblest 
 respects), Dorothea had passed for a bsl esprit in the little 
 
57* 
 
 THE FITZ-B O ODLE PAPERS. 
 
 court circle, and her little simple stock of accomplishments 
 had amused us all very well. She used to sing " Herz, mein 
 Herz " and " T'en souviens-tu," in a decent manner (once, be- 
 fore heaven, I thought her singing better than Grisi's), and 
 then she had a little album in which she drew flowers, and used 
 to embroider slippers wonderfully, and was very merry at a 
 game of loto or forfeits, and had a hundred small agremens de 
 societe which rendered her an acceptable member of it. 
 
 But when Ottilia arrived, poor Dolly's reputation was 
 crushed in a month. The former wrote poems both in French 
 and German ; she painted landscapes and portraits in real oil; 
 and she twanged off a rattling piece of Listz or Kalkbrenner 
 in such a brilliant way, that Dora scarcely dared to touch the 
 instrument after her, or venture, after Ottilia had trilled and 
 gurgled through " Una voce," or " Di piacer " (Rossini was 
 in fashion then), to lift up her little modest pipe in a ballad. 
 What was the use of the poor thing going to sit in the park 
 where so many of the young officers used ever to gather round 
 her ? Whirr ! Ottilia went by galloping on a chestnut mare 
 with a groom after her, and presently all the young fellows who 
 could buy or hire horseflesh were prancing in her train. 
 
 When they met, Ottilia would bounce towards her soul's 
 darling, and put her hands round her waist, and call her by a 
 thousand affectionate names, and then talk of her as only ladies 
 or authors can talk of one another. How tenderly she would 
 hint at Dora's little imperfections of education ! — how cleverly 
 she would insinuate that the poor girl had no wit ! and, thank 
 God, no more she had. The fact is, that do what I will I see 
 I'm in love with her still, and would be if she had fifty chil- 
 dren ; but my passion blinded me then, and every arrow that 
 fiery Ottilia discharged I marked with savage joy. Dolly, 
 thank heaven, didn't mind the w r it much ; she was too simple 
 for that. But still the recurrence of it would leave in her 
 heart a vague, indefinite feeling of pain, and somehow she 
 began to understand that her empire was passing away, and 
 that her dear friend hated her like poison ; and so she married 
 Klingenspohr. I have written myself almost into a reconcilia- 
 tion with the silly fellow ; for the truth is, he has been a good, 
 honest husband to her, and she has children, and makes pud- 
 dings, and is happy. 
 
 Ottilia was pale and delicate. She wore her glistening 
 black hair in bands, and dressed in vapory white muslin. She 
 sang her own words to her harp, and they commonly insinu- 
 ated that she was alone in the world, — that she suffered some 
 
FITZ-BOODLE >$ CONFESSIONS. 
 
 579 
 
 inexpressible and mysterious heart-pangs, the lot of all finer 
 geniuses, — that though she lived and moved in the world she 
 was not of it, — that she was of a consumptive tendency and 
 might look for a premature interment. She even had fixed on the 
 spot where she should lie : the violets grew there, she said, the 
 river went moaning by ; the gray willow whispered sadly over 
 her head, and her heart pined to be at rest. " Mother," she 
 would say, turning to her parent, " promise me — promise me to 
 lay me in that spot when the parting hour has come ! " At 
 which Madame de Schlippenschlopp would shriek, and grasp 
 her in her arms • and at which, I confess, I would myself blub- 
 ber like a child. She had six darling friends at school, and 
 every courier from Kalbsbraten carried off whole reams of her 
 letter-paper. 
 
 In Kalbsbraten, as in every other German town, there are 
 a vast number of literary characters, of whom our young friend 
 quickly became the chief. They set up a literary journal, which 
 appeared once a week, upon light-blUe or primrose paper, and 
 which, in compliment to the lovely Ottilia's maternal name, 
 was called the KartoffelnkrciJiz. Here are a couple of her 
 ballads extracted from the K?'anz, and by far the most cheerful 
 specimen of her style. For in her songs she never would will- 
 ingly let off the heroines without a suicide or a consumption. 
 She never would hear of such a thing as a happy marriage, 
 and had an appetite for grief quite amazing in so young a per- 
 son. As for her dying and desiring to be buried under the 
 willow-tree, of which the first ballad is the subject, though I 
 believed^ the story then, I have at present some doubts about 
 it. For, since the publication of my Memoirs, I have been 
 thrown much into the society of literar}' persons (who admire 
 my style hugely), and egad ! though some of them are dismal 
 enough in their works, I find them in their persons the least 
 sentimental class that ever a gentleman fell in with. 
 
 " THE WILLOW-TREE. 
 
 '* Know ye the wiilow-tree 
 
 Whose gray leaves quiver, 
 Whispering gloomily 
 
 To yon pale river ? 
 Lady, at even-tide 
 
 Wander not near it : 
 They say its branches hide 
 
 A sad, lost spirit ! ? 
 
 " Once to the willow-tree 
 A maid came fearful, 
 Pale seemed her cheek to be, 
 Her blue eye tearful ; 
 
 Soon as she saw the tree, 
 Her step moved fleeter. 
 
 No one was there — ah me ! 
 No one to meet her! 
 
 " Quick beat her heart to hear 
 
 The far bell's chime 
 Toll from the chapel-tower 
 
 The trysting time : 
 But the red sun went down 
 
 In golden flame, 
 And though she looked round, 
 
 Yet no one came ! 
 
5 8o 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 " Presently came the night, 
 Sadly to greet her, — 
 Moon in her silver light, 
 Stars in their glitter. 
 ** Then sank the moon away 
 Under the billow, 
 Stili wept the maid alone — 
 There by the willow! 
 
 ii Through the long darkness, 
 
 By the stream rolling, 
 Hour after hour went on 
 
 Tolling and tolling. 
 Long was the darkness, 
 
 Lonely and stilly ; 
 Shrill came the night wind, 
 
 Piercing and chilly. 
 
 " Shrill blew the morning breeze, 
 
 Biting and cold, 
 Bleak peers the gray dawn 
 
 Over the wold. 
 Bleak over moor and stream 
 
 Looks the gray dawn, 
 Gray, with dishevelled hair, 
 
 Still stands the willow there — 
 
 The maid is gone! 
 
 " Domine, Domine I 
 Sing' we a litany,' — 
 Sing for poor maiden-hearts broken and 
 weary ; 
 Domine, Domine ! 
 Sing we a litany, 
 Wail we and weep we a wild Miserere I " 
 
 One of the chief beauties of this ballad (for the translation of 
 which I received some well-merited compliments) is the delicate 
 way in which the suicide of the poor young woman under the 
 willow-tree is hinted at j for that she threw herself into the 
 water and became one among the lilies of the stream, is as 
 clear as a pikestaff. Her suicide is committed some time in 
 the darkness, when the slow hours move on tolling and tolling, 
 and is hinted at darkly as befits the time and the deed. 
 
 But that unromantic brute, Van Cutsem, the Dutch Charge- 
 d'Affaires, sent to the Kartoffelnkranz of the week after a con- 
 clusion of the ballad, which shows what a poor creature he 
 must be. His pretext for writing it was, he said, because he 
 could not bear such melancholy endings to poems and young 
 women, and therefore he submitted the following lines : — 
 
 Long by the willow-trees 
 Vainly they sought her, 
 
 Wild rang the mother's screams 
 O'er the gray water : 
 
 * Where is my lovely one ? 
 Where is my daughter ? 
 
 1 Rouse thee, Sir Constable — 
 Rouse thee and look ; 
 
 Fisherman, bring your net, 
 Boatman, your hook. 
 
 Beat in the lily-beds, 
 Dive in the brook! ' 
 
 Vainly the constable 
 Shouted and called her ; 
 
 Vainly the fisherman 
 Beat the green alder ; 
 
 Vainly he flung the net, 
 Never it hauled her ! 
 
 Mother, beside the fire 
 Sat, her nightcap in ; 
 
 Father, in easy-chair, 
 Gloomily napping ; 
 
 When at the window-sill 
 Came a light tapping ! 
 
 And a pale countenance 
 
 Looked through the casement. 
 Loud beat the mother's heart, 
 
 Sick with amazement ; 
 And at the vision, which 
 
 Came to surprise her, 
 Shrieked in an agony — 
 
 4 Lor' ! it's Elizar ! ' 
 
 Yes, 'twas Elizabeth — 
 
 Yes, 'twas their girl ; 
 Pale was Her cheek, and her 
 
 Hair out of curl._ 
 ' Mother ! ' the loving one, 
 
 Blushing, exclaimed, 
 ' Let not your innocent 
 
 Lizzy be blamed. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 ' Yesterday, going to aunt 
 Jones's to tea, 
 
 Mother, dear mother, I 
 Forgot the door-key ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 And for the work of that 
 Cruel, though short, night, 
 
 Sent her to bed without 
 Tea for a fortnight. 
 
 And as the night was cold, 
 And the way steep, 
 
 IX. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 Mrs. Jones kept me to 
 Breakfast and sleep. 
 
 Hey diddle diddlety, 
 
 Cat and the Fiddlety, 
 Maidens of England take caution by 
 
 VIII. 
 
 she I 
 
 f Whether her Pa and Ma 
 Fully believed her, 
 That we shall never know : 
 Stern they received her ; 
 
 Let love and suicide 
 
 Never tempt you aside, 
 And always remember to take the 
 
 door -key I " 
 
 Some people laughed at this parody, and even preferred it 
 to the original ; but for myself I have no patience with the in- 
 dividual who can turn the finest sentiments of our nature into 
 ridicule, and make everything sacred a subject of scorn. The 
 next ballad is less gloomy than that of the willow-tree, and 
 in it the lovely writer expresses her longing for what has 
 charmed us all, and as it were, squeezes the whole spirit of the 
 fairy tale into a few stanzas : — 
 
 " Beside the old hall-fire — upon my nurse's knee, 
 Of happy fairy days — what tales were told to me ! 
 I thought the world was once — all peopled with princesses, 
 And my heart would beat to hear — their loves and their distresses ; 
 And many a quiet night, — in slumber sweet and deep, 
 The pretty fairy people — would visit me in sleep. 
 
 " I saw them in my dreams — come flying east and west, 
 With wondrous fairy gifts — the new born babe they bless'd ; 
 One has brought a jewel — and one a crown of gold, 
 And one has brought a curse — but she is wrinkled and old. 
 The gentle queen turns pale — to hear those words of sin, 
 But the king he only laughs — and bids the dance begin. 
 
 " The babe has grown to be — the fairest of the land 
 And rides the forest green — a hawk upon her hand. 
 An ambling palfrey white — a golden robe and crown ; 
 I've seen her in my dreams — riding up and down ; 
 And heard the ogre laugh — as she fell into his snare, 
 At the little tender creature — who wept and tore her hair ! 
 
 "But ever when it seemed — her need was at the sorest 
 A prince in shining mail — comes prancing through the forest. 
 A waving ostrich-plume — a buckler burnished bright ; 
 I've seen him in my dreams— good sooth! a gallant knight. 
 His lips are coral red — beneath a dark mustache ; 
 See how he waves his hand — and how his blue eyes flash ! 
 
 " 4 Come forth, thou Paynim knight ! '—he shouts in accents cleaj 
 The giant and the maid — both tremble his voice to hear. 
 Saint Mary guard him well ! — he draws his falchion keen, 
 The giant and the knight — are fighting on the green. 
 I see them in my dreams — his blade gives stroke on stroke, 
 The giant pants and reels — and tumbles like an oak ! 
 
 "FAIRY DAYS. 
 
5 82 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 " With what a blushing grace — he falls upon his knee 
 And takes the lady's hand — and whispers, 4 You are free ! ' 
 Ah ! happy childish tales — of knight and faerie ! 
 I waken from my dreams — but there's ne'er a knight for me ; 
 I waken from my dreams — and wish that I could be 
 A child by the old hall-fire — upon my nurse's knee." 
 
 Indeed, Ottilia looked like a fairy herself : pale, small, slim, 
 and airy. You could not see her face, as it were, for her eyes, 
 which were so wild, and so tender, and shone so that they 
 would have dazzled an eagle, much more a poor goose of a 
 Fitz-Boodle. In the theatre, when she sat on the opposite side 
 of the house, those big eyes used to pursue me as I sat pretend- 
 ing to listen to the " Zauberflote," or to " Don Carlos," or 
 " Egmont," and at the tender passages, especially, they would 
 have such a winning, weeping, imploring look with them as 
 flesh and blood could not bear. 
 
 Shall I tell how I became a poet for the dear girl's sake ? 
 'Tis surely unnecessary after the reader has perused the above 
 versions of her poems. Shall I tell what wild follies I com- 
 mitted in prose as well as in verse ? how I used to watch under 
 her window of icy evenings, and with chilblainy fingers sing 
 serenades to her on the guitar ? Shall I tell how, in a sledging- 
 party, I had the happiness to drive her, and of the delightful 
 privilege which is, on these occasions, accorded to the driver ? 
 
 Any reader who has spent a winter in Germany perhaps 
 knows it. A large party of a score or more of sledges is 
 formed. Away they go to some pleasure-house that has been 
 previously fixed upon, where a ball and collation are prepared, 
 and where each man, as his partner descends, has the delicious 
 privilege of saluting her. O heavens and earth ! I may grow to 
 be a thousand years old, but I can never forget the rapture of 
 that salute. 
 
 "The keen air has given me an appetite," said the dear 
 angel, as we entered the supper-room • and to say the truth, 
 fairy as she was, she made a remarkably good meal — consuming 
 a couple of basins of white soup, several kinds of German 
 sausages, some Westphalia ham, some white puddings, an 
 anchovy-salad made with cornichons and onions, sweets in- 
 numerable, and a considerable quantity of old Steinwein and 
 rum-punch afterwards. Then she got up and danced as brisk 
 as a fairy ; in which operation I of course did not follow her, 
 but had the honor, at the close of the evening's amusement, once 
 more to have her by my side in the sledge, as we swept in the 
 moonlight over the snow. 
 
 Kalbsbraten is a very hospitable place as far as tea-parties 
 
FITZ-BOODLE \S CONFESSION'S. 
 
 S«3 
 
 are concerned, but I never was in one where dinners were so 
 scarce. At the palace they occurred twice or thrice in a month ; 
 but on these occasions spinsters were not invited, and I seldom 
 had the opportunity of seeing my Ottilia except at evening- 
 parties. 
 
 Nor are these, if the truth must be told, very much to my 
 taste. Dancing I have forsworn, whist is too severe a study 
 for me, and I do not like to play ecarte' with old ladies, who are 
 sure to cheat you in the course of an evening's play. 
 
 But to have an occasional glance at Ottilia was enough ; 
 and many and many a napoleon did I lose to her mamma, 
 Madame de Schlippenschlopp, for the blest privilege of looking 
 at her daughter. Many is the tea-party I went to, shivering 
 into cold clothes after dinner (which is my abomination) in 
 order to have one little look at the lady of my soul. 
 
 At these parties there were generally refreshments of a 
 nature more substantial than mere tea — punch, both milk and 
 rum, hot wine, consomme, and a peculiar and exceedingly dis- 
 agreeable sandwich made of a mixture of cold white puddings 
 and garlic, of which I have forgotten the name, and always 
 detested the savor. 
 
 Gradually a conviction came upon me that Ottilia ate a great 
 deal. 
 
 I do not dislike to see a woman eat comfortably. I even 
 think that an agreeable woman ought to be friande, and should 
 love certain little dishes and knicknacks. I know that though 
 at dinner they commonly take nothing, they have had roast- 
 mutton with the children at two, and laugh at their pretensions 
 to starvation. 
 
 No ! a woman who eats a grain of rice, like Amina in the 
 "Arabian Nights," is absurd and unnatural; but there is a 
 modus in rebus : there is no reason why she should be a ghoul, 
 a monster, an ogress, a horrid gormandizeress — faugh ! 
 
 It was, then, with a rage amounting almost to agony, that I 
 found Ottilia ate too much at every meal. She was always 
 eating, and always eating too much. If I went there in the 
 morning, there was the horrid familiar odor of those oniony 
 sandwiches ; if in the afternoon, dinner had been just removed, 
 and I was choked by reeking reminiscences of roast-meat. 
 Tea we have spoken of. She gobbled up more cakes than any 
 six people present ; then came the supper and the sandwiches 
 again, and the egg-flip and the horrible rum-punch. 
 
 She was as thin as ever — paler if possible than ever : — but, 
 by heavens ! her nose began to grow red 7 
 
5^4 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 Mon Dieu ! how I used to watch and watch it ! Some days 
 it was purple, some days had more of the vermilion — I could 
 take an affidavit that after a heavy night's supper it was more 
 swollen, more red than before. 
 
 I recollect one night when we were playing a round game (I 
 had been looking at her nose very eagerly and sadly for some 
 time), she of herself brought up the conversation about eating, 
 and confessed that she had five meals a day. 
 
 " That accounts for it ! " says I, flinging down the cards, and 
 springing up and rushing like a madman out of the room. I 
 rushed away into the night, and wrestled with my passion. 
 " What ! Mary," said I, " a woman who eats meat twenty-one 
 times in a week, besides breakfast and tea ? Mary a sarcopha- 
 gus, a cannibal, a butcher's shop ? — Away ! " I strove and 
 strove. I drank, I groaned, I wrestled and fought with my 
 love — but it overcame me : one look of those eyes brought me 
 to her feet again. I yielded myself up like a slave j I fawned 
 and whined for her ; I thought her nose was not so very red. 
 
 Things came to this pitch that I sounded his Highnes's's 
 Minister to know whether he would give me service in the 
 Duchy ; I thought of purchasing an estate there. I was given 
 to understand that I should get a chamberlain's key and some 
 post of honor did I choose to remain, and I even wrote home 
 to my brother Tom in England, hinting a change in my 
 condition. 
 
 At this juncture the town of Hamburg sent his Highness 
 the Grand Duke (a propos of a commercial union which was 
 pending between the two States) a singular present : no less 
 than a certain number of barrels of oysters, which are con- 
 sidered extreme luxuries in Germany, especially in the inland 
 parts of the country, where they are almost unknown. 
 
 In honor of the oysters and the new commercial treaty 
 (which arrived in fourgons despatched for the purpose), his 
 Highness announced a grand supper and ball, and invited all 
 the quality of all the principalities round about. It was a 
 splendid affair : the grand saloon brilliant with hundreds of 
 uniforms and brilliant toilettes — not the least beautiful among 
 them, I need not say, was Ottilia. 
 
 At midnight the supper-rooms were thrown open, and we 
 formed into little parties of six, each having a table, nobly 
 served with plate, a lackey in attendance, and a gratifying ice- 
 pail or two of champagne to egayer the supper. It was no 
 small cost to serve five hundred people on silver, and the re- 
 past was certainly a princely and magnificent one. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S CONFESSIONS. 
 
 585 
 
 I had, of course, arranged with Mademoiselle de Schlippen- 
 schlopp. Captains Frumpel and Fridelberger of the Duke's 
 Guard, Mesdames de Butterbrod and Bopp, formed our little 
 party. 
 
 The first course, of course, consisted of the oysters. Ottilia's 
 eyes gleamed with double brilliancy as the lackey opened them. 
 There were nine apiece for us — how well I recollect the 
 number ! 
 
 I never was much of an oyster-eater, nor can I relish them 
 in naturalibus as some do, but require a quantity of sauces, 
 lemons, cayenne peppers, bread and butter, and so forth, to 
 render them palatable. 
 
 By the time I had made my preparations, Ottilia, the Cap- 
 tains, and the two ladies, had wellnigh finished theirs. In- 
 deed Ottilia had gobbled up all hers, and there were only my 
 nine left in the dish. 
 
 I took one — it was bad. The scent of it was enough, — they 
 were all bad. Ottilia had eaten nine bad oysters. 
 
 I put down the horrid shell. Her eyes glistened more and 
 more ; she could not take them off the tray. 
 
 "Dear.Herr George," she said, "will you give me your 
 oysters ? " 
 
 * # * # # 
 
 "7v" "vv 7v *7v 
 
 She had them all down — before — I could say — Jack — 
 Robinson ! 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 I left Kalbsbraten that night, and have never been there 
 since. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 BEING APPEALS TO THE UNEMPLOYED YOUNGER SONS OF 
 
 THE NOBILITY. 
 
 FIRST PROFESSION, 
 
 The fair and honest proposition in which I offered to com- 
 municate privately with parents and guardians, relative to two 
 new and lucrative professions which I had discovered, has, I 
 find from the publisher, elicited not one single inquiry from 
 those personages, who I can't but think are very little careful 
 of their children's welfare to allow such a chance to be thrown 
 away. It is not for myself I speak, as my conscience proudly 
 tells me ; for though I actually gave up Ascot in order to be in 
 the way should any father of a family be inclined to treat with 
 me regarding my discoveries, yet I am grieved, not on my own 
 account, but on theirs, and for the wretched penny-wise policy 
 that has held them back. 
 
 That they must feel an interest in my announcement is un- 
 questionable. Look at the way in which the public prints of 
 all parties have noticed my appearance in the character of a 
 literary man ! Putting aside my personal narrative, look at the 
 offer I made to the nation, — a choice of no less than two new 
 professions ! Suppose I had invented as many new kinds of 
 butcher's-meat ; does any one pretend that the world, tired as it 
 is of the perpetual recurrence of beef, mutton, veal, cold beef, 
 cold veal, cold mutton, hashed ditto, would not have jumped 
 eagerly at the delightful intelligence that their old, stale, stupid 
 meals were about to be varied at last ? 
 
 Of course people would have come forward. I should have 
 had deputations from Mr. Gibletts and the fashionable butch- 
 
 (586) l " : * 
 
FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 587 
 
 ers of this world ; petitions would have poured in from White- 
 chapel salesmen ; the speculators panting to know the dis- 
 covery ; the cautious with stock in hand eager to bribe me to 
 silence and prevent the certain depreciation of the goods which 
 they already possessed. I should have dealt with them, not 
 greedily or rapaciously, but on honest principles of fair barter. 
 " Gentlemen," I should have said, or rather, " Gents " — which 
 affectionate diminutive is, I am given to understand, at present 
 much in use among commercial persons — " Gents, my re- 
 searches, my genius, or my good fortune, have brought me to 
 the valuable discovery about which you are come to treat. 
 Will you purchase it outright, or will you give the discov- 
 erer an honest share of the profits resulting from your specu- 
 lation ? My position in the world puts me out of the power of . 
 executing the vast plan I have formed, but 'twill be a certain 
 fortune to him who engages in it ; and why should not I, too, 
 participate/in that fortune ? " 
 
 Such would have been my manner of dealing with the world, 
 too, with regard to my discovery of the new professions. Does 
 not the world want new professions ? Are there not thousands 
 of well-educated men panting, struggling, pushing, starving, in 
 the old ones ? Grim tenants of chambers looking out for at- 
 torneys who never come ? — wretched physicians practising the 
 stale joke of being called out of church until people no longer 
 think fit even to laugh or to pity ? Are there not hcary-headed 
 midshipmen, antique ensigns growing mouldy upon fifty years' 
 half-pay ? Nay, are there not men who would pay anything to 
 be employed rather than remain idle ? But such is the glut of 
 professionals, the horrible cutthroat competition among them, 
 that there is no chance for one in a thousand, be he ever so 
 willing, or brave, or clever : in the great ocean of life he makes 
 a few strokes, and puffs, and sputters, and sinks, and the in- 
 numerable waves overwhelm him and he is heard of no more. 
 
 Walking to my banker's t'other day — and I pledge my 
 sacred honor this story is true — I met a young fellow whom I 
 had known attache to an embassy abroad, a young man of toler- 
 able parts, unwearied patience, with some fortune too, and, 
 moreover, allied to a noble Whig family, whose interest had 
 procured him his appointment to the legation at Krahwinkel, 
 where I knew him. He remained for ten years a diplomatic 
 character ] he was the workingman of the legation : he sent 
 over the most diffuse translations of the German papers for the 
 use of the Foreign Secretary : he signed passports with most 
 astonishing ardor ; he exiled himself for ten long years in a 
 
5 88 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 wretched German town, dancing attendance at court-balls and 
 paying no end of money for uniforms. And for what ? At the 
 end of the ten years — during which period of labor he never 
 received a single shilling from the Government which employed 
 him (rascally spendthrift of a Government, va'fj, — he was 
 offered the paid aitacheship to the court of H. M. the King of 
 the Mosquito Islands, and refused that appointment a week 
 before the Whig Ministry retired. Then he knew that there 
 was no further chance for him, and incontinently quitted the 
 diplomatic service forever, and I have no doubt will sell his 
 uniform a bargain. The Government had Mm a bargain cer- 
 tainly j nor is he by any means the first person who has been 
 sold at that price. 
 
 Well, my worthy "friend met me in the street and informed 
 me of these facts with a smiling countenance,- — which I thought 
 a masterpiece of diplomacy. Fortune had been belaboring 
 and kicking him for ten whole years, and here he wVs grinning 
 in my face : could Monsieur de Talleyrand have acted better ? 
 " I have given up diplomacy," said Protocol, quite simply and 
 good-humoredly, " for between you and me, my good fellow, it's 
 a very slow profession ; sure perhaps, but slow. But though I 
 gained no actual pecuniary remuneration in the service, I have 
 learned all the languages in Europe, which will be invaluable 
 to me in my new profession — the mercantile one — in which 
 directly I looked out for a post I found one." 
 
 " What ! and a good pay ? " said I. 
 
 "Why, no; that's absurd, you know. No young men, 
 strangers to business, are paid much to speak of. Besides, I 
 don't look to a paltry clerk's pay. Some day, when thoroughly 
 acquainted with the business (I shall learn it in about seven 
 years), I shall go into a good house with my capital and become 
 junior partner." 
 
 " And meanwhile ? " 
 
 " Meanwhile I conduct the foreign correspondence of the 
 eminent house of Jam, Ram, and Johnson ; and very heavy it 
 is, I can tell you. From nine till six every day, except foreign 
 post days, and then from nine till eleven. Dirty dark court to 
 sit in ; snobs to talk to, — great change, as you may fancy." 
 
 "And you do all this for nothing?" 
 
 " I do it to learn the business." And so saying Protocol 
 gave me a knowing nod and went his way. 
 
 Good heavens ! I thought, and is this a true story ? Are 
 there hundreds of young men in a similar situation at the 
 present day, giving away the best years of their youth for the 
 
FITZ-B O ODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 5*9 
 
 sake of a mere windy hope of something in old age, and dying 
 before they come to the goal ? In seven years he hopes to have 
 a business, and then to have the pleasure of risking his money ? 
 He will be admitted into some great house as a particular 
 favor, and three months after the house will fail. Has it not 
 happened to a thousand of our acquaintance ? I thought I 
 would run after him and tell him about the new professions 
 that I have invented. 
 
 " Oh ! ay ! those you wrote about in Fraser's Magazine. 
 Egad ! George, Necessity makes strange fellows of us all. 
 Who would ever have thought of you spelling, much more 
 writing ? " 
 
 " Never mind that. Will you, if I tell you of a new profes- 
 sion that, with a little cleverness and instruction from me, you 
 may bring to a most successful end — will- you, I say, make me 
 a fair return ? " 
 
 " My dear creature," replied young Protocol, " what non- 
 sense you talk ! I saw that very humbug in the Magazine. 
 You say you have made a great discovery — very good ; you 
 puff your discovery — very right ; you ask money for it — nothing 
 can be more reasonable ; and then you say that you intend to 
 make your discovery public in the next number of the Magazine. 
 Do you think I will be such a fool as to give you money for a 
 thing which I can have next month for nothing ? Good-by, 
 George my boy ; the next discovery you make I'll tell you how 
 to get a better price for it." And with this the fellow walked 
 off, looking supremely knowing and clever. 
 
 This tale of the person I have called Protocol is not told 
 without a purpose, you may be sure. In the first place, it 
 shows what are the reasons that nobody has made application 
 to me concerning the new professions, namely, because I have 
 passed my word to make them known in this Magazine, which 
 persons may have for the purchasing, stealing, borrowing, or 
 hiring, and, therefore, they will never think of applying per- 
 sonally to me. And, secondly, his story proves also my asser- 
 tion, viz. : that all professions are most cruelly crowded at 
 present, and that men will make the most absurd outlay and 
 sacrifices for the smallest chance of success at some future 
 period. Well, then, I will be a benefactor to my race, if I 
 cannot be to one single member of it, whom I love better than 
 most men. What I have discovered I will make known ; there 
 shall be no shilly-shallying work here, no circumlocution, no 
 bottle-conjuring business. But oh ! I wish for all our sakes 
 that I had an opportunity to impart the secret to one or two 
 
THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 persons only ; for, after all, but one or two can live in the 
 manner I would suggest. And when the discovery is made 
 known, I am sure ten thousand will try. The rascals ! I 
 can see their brass-plates gleaming over scores of doors. Com- 
 petition will ruin my professions, as it has all others. 
 
 It must be premised that the two professions are intended 
 for gentlemen, and gentlemen only — men of birth and education. 
 No others could support the parts which they will be called 
 upon to play. 
 
 And,* likewise, it must be honestly confessed that these 
 professions have, to a certain degree, been exercised before. 
 Do not cry out at this and say it is no discovery ! I say it is 
 a discovery. It is a discovery if I show you — a gentleman — a 
 profession which you may exercise without derogation, or loss 
 of standing, with certain profit, nay, possibly with honor, and 
 of which, until the reading of the present page, you never 
 thought but as of a calling beneath your rank and quite below 
 your reach. Sir, I do not mean to say that I create a profession. 
 I cannot create gold • but. if, when discovered, I find the means 
 of putting it in your pocket, do I or do I not deserve credit ? 
 
 I see you sneer contemptuously when I mention to you the 
 word Auctioneer. " Is this all," you say, " that this fellow 
 brags and prates about ? An auctioneer, forsooth ! he might 
 as well have f invented ' chimney-sweeping ? " 
 
 No such thing. A little boy of seven, be he ever so low of 
 birth, can do this as well as you. Do you suppose that little 
 stolen Master Montague made a better sweeper than the lowest* 
 bred chummy that yearly commemorates his release ? No, sir. 
 And he might have been ever so much a genius or a gentleman, 
 and not have been able to make his trade respectable. 
 
 But all such trades as can be rendered decent the aristocracy 
 has adopted one by one. At first they followed the profession 
 of arms, flouting all others as unworthy, and thinking it un- 
 gentlemanlike to know how to read or write. They did not go 
 into the church in very early days, till the money to be got 
 from the church was strong enough to tempt them. It is but 
 of later years that they have condescended to go to the bar, 
 and since the same time only that we see some of them follow- 
 ing trades, . I know an English lord's son who is, or was, a 
 wine-merchant (he may have been a bankrupt for what I know). 
 As for bankers, several partners in banking-houses have four 
 balls to their coronets, and I have no doubt that another sort 
 of banking, viz. : that practised by gentlemen who lend small 
 sums of money upon deposited securities, will be one day 
 
FITZ-BOODLE \S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 591 
 
 followed by the noble order, so that they may have four balls 
 on their coronets and carriages, and three in front of their 
 shops. 
 
 Yes, the nobles come peoplewards as the people, on the 
 other hand, rise and mingle with the nobles. With the filebs, 
 of course, Fitz-Boodle, in whose veins flows the blood of a 
 thousand kings, can have nothing to do ; but, watching the 
 progress of the world, 'tis impossible to deny that the good old 
 days of our race are passed away. We want money still as 
 much as ever we did ; but we cannot go down from our castles 
 with horse and sword and waylay fat merchants — no, no, coun- 
 founcled new policemen and the assize-courts prevent that. 
 Younger brothers cannot be pages to noble houses, as of old 
 they were, serving gentle dames without disgrace, handing my 
 lord's rose-water to wash, or holding his stirrup as he mounted 
 for the chase. A page, forsooth ! A pretty figure would 
 George Fitz-Boodle or any other man of fashion cut, in a jacket 
 covered with sugar-loafed buttons, and handing in penny-post 
 notes on a silver tray. The plebs have robbed us of that trade 
 among others : nor, I confess, do I much grudge them their 
 trouvaille. Neither can we collect together a few scores of free 
 lances, like honest Hugh Calverly in the Black Prince's time, 
 or brave Harry Butler of Wallenstein's dragoons, and serve 
 this or that prince, Peter the Cruel or Henry of Trastamare, 
 Gustavus or the Emperor, at our leisure ; or, in default of 
 service, fight and rob on our own gallant account, as the good 
 gentlemen of old did. Alas ! no. In South America or Texas, 
 perhaps, a man might have a chance that way • but in the 
 ancient world no man can fight except in the king's service (and 
 a mighty bad service that is too), and the lowest European 
 sovereign, were it Baldomero Espartero himself, would think 
 nothing of seizing the best-born condottiere that ever drew 
 sword, and shooting him down like the vulgarest deserter. 
 
 What, then, is to be done ? We must discover fresh fields 
 of enterprise — of peaceable and commercial enterprise in a 
 peaceful and commercial age. I say, then, that the auctioneer's 
 pulpit has never yet been ascended by a scion of the aristoc- 
 racy, and am prepared to prove that they might scale it, and 
 do so with dignity and profit. 
 
 For the auctioneer's pulpit is just the peculiar place where 
 a man of social refinement, of elegant wit, of polite* perceptions, 
 can bring his wit, eloquence, his taste, and his experience of 
 life, most delightfully into play. It is not like the bar, where 
 the better and higher qualities of a man of fashion find no room 
 
59 2 
 
 THE FITZ-B O ODLE PAPERS 
 
 for exercise. In defending John Jorrocks in an action of tres- 
 pass, for cutting down a stick in Sam Snooks's field, what 
 powers of mind do you require ? — powers of mind, that is, 
 which Mr. Serjeant Snorter, a butcher's son with a great loud 
 voice, a sizar at Cambridge, a wrangler, and so forth, does not 
 possess as well as yourself ? Snorter has never been in decent 
 society in his life. He thinks the bar-mess the most fashion- 
 able assemblage in Europe, and the jokes of " grand day " the 
 ne plus ultra of wit. Snorter lives near Russell Square, eats 
 beef and Yorkshire-pudding, is a judge of port-wine, is in all 
 social respects your inferior. Well, it is ten to one but in the 
 case of Snooks v. Jorrocks, before mentioned, he will be a 
 better advocate than you } he knows the law of the case entirely, 
 and better probably than you. He can speak long, loud, to the 
 point, grammatically — more grammatically than you, no doubt, 
 will condescend to do. In the case of Snooks v. Jorrocks he 
 is all that can be desired. And so about dry disputes, respect- 
 ing real property, he knows the law ; and, beyond this, has no 
 more need to be a gentleman than my body-servant has — who, 
 by the way, from constant intercourse with the best society, is 
 almost a gentleman. But this is apart from the question. 
 
 Now, in the matter of auctioneering, this, I apprehend, is 
 not the case, and I assert that a high-bred gentleman, with 
 good powers of mind and speech, must, in such a profession, 
 make a fortune. I do not mean in all auctioneering matters. 
 I do not mean that such a person should be called upon to sell 
 the good-will of a public-house, or discourse about the value of 
 the beer-barrels, or bars with pewter fittings, or the beauty of a 
 trade doing a stroke of so many hogsheads a week. I do not 
 ask a gentleman to go down and sell pigs, ploughs, and cart- 
 horses, at Stoke Pogis ; or to enlarge at the Auction-Rooms, 
 Wapping, upon the beauty of the " Lively Sally " schooner. 
 These articles of commerce or use can be better appreciated by 
 persons in a different rank of life to his. 
 
 But there are a thousand cases in which a gentleman only 
 can do justice to the sale of objects which the necessity or 
 convenience of the genteel world may require to change hands. 
 All articles properly called of taste should be put under his 
 charge. Pictures, — he is a travelled man, has seen and judged 
 the best galleries of Europe, and can speak of them as a com- 
 mon person cannot. For, mark you, you must have the con- 
 fidence of your society, you must be able to be familiar with 
 them, to plant a happy mot in a graceful manner, to appeal to 
 my lord or the duchess in such a modest, easy, pleasant way as 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 593 
 
 that her grace should not be hurt by your allusion to her — nay, 
 amused (like the rest of the company) by the manner in which 
 it was done. 
 
 What is more disgusting than the familiarity of a snob ? 
 What more loathsome than the swaggering quackery of some 
 present holders of the hammer ? There was a late sale, for 
 instance, which made some noise in the world (I mean the late 
 Lord Gimcrack's, at Dilberry Hill). Ah ! what an opportunity 
 was lost there ! I declare solemnly that I believe, but for the 
 absurd quackery and braggadocio of the advertisements, much 
 more money would have been bid ; people were kept away by 
 the vulgar trumpeting of the auctioneer, and could not help 
 thinking the things were worthless that were so outrageously 
 lauded. 
 
 They say that sort of Bartholomew-fair advocacy (in which 
 people are invited to an entertainment by the medium of a 
 hoarse yelling beef-eater, twenty-four drums, and a jack-pudding 
 turning head over heels) is absolutely necessary to excite the 
 public attention. W r hat an error ! I say that the refined indi- 
 vidual so accosted is more likely to close his ears, and, shud- 
 dering, run away from the booth. Poor Horace Waddlepoodle ! 
 to think that thy gentle accumulation of bric-a-brac should have 
 passed away in such a manner ! by means of a man who brings 
 down a butterfly with a blunderbuss, and talks of a pin's head 
 through a speaking-trumpet ! Why, the auctioneer's very voice 
 was enough to crack the Sevres porcelain and blow the lace 
 into annihilation. Let it be remembered that I speak of the 
 gentleman in his public character merely, meaning to insinuate 
 nothing more than I would by stating that Lord Brougham 
 speaks with a northern accent, or that the voice of Mr. Sheil 
 is sometimes unpleasantly shrill. 
 
 Now the character I have formed to myself of a great 
 auctioneer is this. I fancy him a man of first-rate and irre- 
 proachable birth and fashion. I fancy his person so agreeable 
 that it must be a pleasure for ladies to behold and tailors to 
 dress it. As a private man he must move in the very best 
 society, which will flock round his pulpit when he mounts it in 
 his public calling. It will be a privilege for vulgar people to 
 attend the hall where he lectures ; and they will consider it an 
 honor to be allowed to pay their money for articles the value 
 of which is stamped by his high recommendation. Nor can 
 such a person be a mere fribble ; nor can any loose hanger-on 
 of fashion imagine he may assume the character. The gentle- 
 man auctioneer must be an artist above all, adoring his profes- 
 
594 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 sion ; and adoring it, what must he not know? He must have 
 a good knowledge of the history and language of all nations : 
 and not the knowledge of the mere critical scholar, but of the 
 lively and elegant man of the world. He will not commit the 
 gross blunders of pronunciation that untravelled Englishmen 
 perre rate • he will not degrade his subject by coarse eulogy, 
 or sicken his audience with vulgar banter. He will know 
 where to apply praise and wit properly ; he will have the tact 
 only acquired in good society, and know where a joke is in 
 place, and how far a compliment may go. He will not out- 
 rageously and indiscriminately laud all objects committed to 
 his charge, for he knows the value of praise ; that diamonds, 
 could we have them by the bushel, would be used as coals ; 
 that, above all, he has a character of sincerity to support • that 
 he is not merely the advocate of the person who employs him, 
 but that the public is his client too, who honors him and con- 
 fides in him. Ask him to sell a copy of RafTaelle for an 
 original • a trumpery modern Brussels counterfeit for real old 
 Mechlin ; some common French forged crockery for the old 
 delightful, delicate, Dresden china ; and he will quit you with 
 scorn, or order his servant to show you the door of his study. 
 
 Study, by the way, — no, " study " is a vulgar word : every 
 word is vulgar which a man uses to give the world an exagger- 
 ated notion of himself or his condition. When the wretched 
 bagman, brought up to give evidence before Judge Coltman, 
 was asked what his trade was, and replied that " he represented 
 the house of Dobson and Hobson," he showed himself to be a 
 vulgar, mean-souled wretch, and was most properly reprimanded 
 by his lordship. To be a bagman is to be humble, but not of 
 necessity vulgar. Pomposity is vulgar, to ape a higher rank 
 than your own is vulgar, for an ensign of militia to call himself 
 captain is vulgar, or for a bagman to style himself the " repre- 
 sentative " of Dobson and Hobson. The honest auctioneer, 
 then, will not call his room his study ; but his " private room/' 
 or his office, or whatever may be the phrase commonly used 
 among auctioneers. 
 
 He will not for the same reason call himself (as once in a 
 momentary feeling of pride and enthusiasm for the profession 
 I thought he should) — he will not call himself an " advocate," 
 but an auctioneer. There is no need to attempt to awe people 
 by big titles : let each man bear his own name without shame. 
 And a very gentlemanlike and agreeable, though exceptional 
 position (for it is clear that there cannot be more than two of 
 the class,) may the auctioneer occupy. 
 
FITZ-BDODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 595 
 
 He must not sacrifice his honesty, then, either for his own 
 sake or his clients', in any way, nor tell fibs about himself or 
 them. He is by no means called upon to draw the long bow 
 in their behalf ♦ all that his office obliges him to do — and let us 
 hope his disposition will lead him to do it also — is to take a 
 favorable, kindly, philanthropic view of the world ; to say 
 what can fairly be said by a good-natured and ingenious man 
 in praise of any article for which he is desirous to awaken public 
 sympathy. And how readily and pleasantly may this be done ! 
 , I will take upon myself, for instance, to write an eulogium upon 
 So-and-So's last novel, which shall be every word of it true ; 
 and which work, though to some discontented spirits it might 
 appear dull, may be shown to be really amusing and instruct- 
 ive, — nay, is amusing and instructive, — to those who have the 
 art of discovering where those precious qualities lie. 
 
 An auctioneer should have the organ of truth large ; of im- 
 agination and comparison, considerable ; of wit, great ; of be- 
 nevolence, excessively large. 
 
 And how happy might such a man be, and cause others to 
 be ! He should go through the world laughing, merry, observ- 
 ant, kind hearted. He should love everything in the world, 
 because his profession regards everything. With books of 
 lighter literature (for I do not recommend the genteel auc- 
 tioneer to meddle with heavy antiquarian and philological 
 works) he should be elegantly conversant, being able to give a 
 neat history of the author, a pretty sparkling kind criticism of 
 the work, and an appropriate eulogium upon the binding, which 
 would make those people read who never read before ; or 
 buy at least, which is his first consideration. Of pictures we 
 have already spoken. Of china, of jewelry, of gold-headed 
 canes, valuable arms, picturesque antiquities, with what elo- 
 quent entrainement might he not speak ! He feels every one 
 of these . things in his heart. He has all the tastes of the 
 fashionable world. Dr. Meyrick cannot be more enthusiastic 
 about an old suit of armor than he ; Sir Harris Nicolas not 
 more eloquent regarding the gallant times in which it was 
 worn, and the brave histories connected with it. He takes up 
 a pearl necklace with as much delight as any beauty who was 
 sighing to wear it round her own snowy throat, and hugs a 
 china monster with as much joy as the oldest duchess could 
 do. Nor must he affect these things ; he must feel them. He 
 is a glass in which all the tastes of fashion are reflected. He 
 must be every one of the characters to whom he addresses him- 
 self — a genteel Gcethe or Shakspeare, a fashionable world- 
 spirit. 
 
596 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 How can a man be all this and not be a gentleman ; and 
 not have had an education in the midst of the best company — 
 an insight into the most delicate feelings, and wants, and 
 usages ? The pulpit oratory of such a man would be invalua- 
 ble ; people would flock to listen to him from far and near. 
 He might out of a single teacup cause streams of world- 
 philosophy to flow, which would be drunk in by grateful 
 thousands ; and draw out of an old pincushion points of wit, 
 morals, and experience, that would make a nation wise. 
 
 Look round, examine the annals of auctions, as Mr. % 
 Robins remarks, and (with every respect for him and his 
 brethren) say, is there in the profession such a man ? Do we 
 want such a man ? Is such a man likely or not likely to make 
 an immense fortune ? Can we get such a man except out 
 of the very best society, and among the most favored there ? 
 
 Everybody answers " No ! " I knew you would answer no. 
 And now, gentlemen who have laughed at my pretension to dis- 
 cover a profession, say, have I not ? I have laid my finger upon 
 the spot where the social deficit exists. I have showed that we 
 labor under a wantj and when the world wants, do we not 
 know that a man will step forth to fill the vacant space that 
 Fate has left for him ? Pass we now to the — 
 
 SECOND PROFESSION. 
 
 This profession, too, is a great, lofty, and exceptional one, 
 and discovered by me considering these things, and deeply 
 musing upon the necessities of society. Nor let honorable 
 gentlemen imagine that I am enabled to offer them in this pro- 
 fession, more than any other, a promise of what is called future 
 glory, deathless fame, and so forth. All that I say is, that I 
 can put young men in the way of making a comfortable liveli- 
 hood, and leaving behind them, not a name, but what is better, 
 a decent maintenance to their children. Fitz-Boodle is as good 
 a name as any in England. General Fitz-Boodle, who, in Marl- 
 borough's time, and in conjunction with the famous Van Slaap, 
 beat the French in the famous action of Vischzouchee, near 
 Mardyk, in Holland, on the 14th of February, 1709, is promised 
 an immortality upon his tomb in Westminster Abbey ; but he 
 died of apoplexy, deucedly in debt, two years afterwards : and 
 what after that is the use of a name ? 
 
 No, no ; the age of chivalry is past. Take the twenty-four 
 first men who come into the club, and ask who they are, and 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 597 
 
 how they made their money ? There's Woolsey-Sackville ■ his 
 father was Lord Chancellor, and sat on the woolsack, whence 
 he took his title ; his grandfather dealt in coal-sacks, and not 
 in wool-sacks, — small coal-sacks, dribbling out little supplies of 
 black diamonds to the poor. Yonder comes Frank Leveson, 
 in a huge broad-brimmed hat, his shirt-cuffs turned up to his 
 elbows. Leveson is as gentlemanly a fellow as the world con- 
 tains, and if he has a fault, is perhaps too finikin. Well, you 
 fancy him related to the Sutherland family : nor, indeed, does 
 honest Frank deny it ; but cntre nous, my good sir, his father 
 was an attorney, and his grandfather a bailiff in Chancery Lane, 
 bearing a name still older than that of Leveson, namely, Levy. 
 So it is that this confounded equality grows and grows,. and has 
 laid the good old nobility by the heels. Look at that venerable 
 Sir Charles Kitely, of Kitely Park : he is interested about the 
 Ashantees, and is just come from Exeter Hall. Kitely dis- 
 counted bills in the City in the year 1787, and gained his 
 baronetcy by a loan to the French princes. All these points of 
 history are perfectly well known ; and do you fancy the world 
 cares ? Psha ! Profession is no disgrace to a man : be what 
 you like, provided you succeed. If Mr. Fauntleroy could come 
 to life with a million of money, you and I would dine with him : 
 you know we would ; for why should we be better than our 
 neighbors ? 
 
 Put, then, out of your head the idea that this or that pro- 
 fession is unworthy of you : take any that may bring you profit, 
 and thank him that puts you in the way of being rich. 
 
 The profession I would urge (upon a person duly qualified 
 to undertake it) has, I confess, at the first glance, something 
 ridiculous about it ; and will not appear to young ladies so 
 romantic as the calling of a gallant soldier, blazing with glory, 
 gold lace, and vermilion coats ; or a dear delightful clergyman, 
 with a sweet blue eye, and a pocket-handkerchief scented charm- 
 ingly with lavender-water. The profession I allude to will, I 
 own, be to young women disagreeable, to sober men trivial, to 
 great stupid moralists unworthy. 
 
 But mark my words for it, that in the religious world (I have 
 once or twice, by mistake no doubt, had the honor of dining in 
 " serious " houses, and can vouch for the fact that the dinners 
 there are of excellent quality) — in the serious world, in the 
 great mercantile world, among the legal community (notorious 
 feeders), in every house in town (except some half-dozen which 
 can afford to do without such aid), the man I propose might 
 speedily render himself indispensable. 
 
59^ 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 Does the reader now begin to take ? Have I hinted enough 
 for him that he may see with eagle glance the immense beauty 
 of the profession I am about to unfold to him ? We have all 
 seen Gunter and Chevet ; Fregoso, on the Puerta del Sol (a 
 relation of the ex-Minister Calomarde), is a good purveyor 
 enough for the benighted olla-eaters of Madrid ; nor have I any 
 fault to find with Guimard, a Frenchman, who has lately set up 
 in the Toledo, at Naples, where he furnishes people with decent 
 food. It has given me pleasure, too, in walking about London 
 — in the Strand, in Oxford Street, and elsewhere, to see four- 
 nisseurs and comestible merchants newly set up. Messrs. 
 Morell have excellent articles in their warehouses ; Fortnum 
 and Mas.on are known to most of my readers. 
 
 But what is not known, what is wanted, what is languished 
 for in England is a din?ier-master, — a gentleman who is not a 
 provider of meat or wine, like the parties before named, who 
 can have no earthly interest in the price of truffled turkeys or 
 dry champagne beyond that legitimate interest which he may 
 feel for his client, and which leads him to see that the latter is 
 not cheated by his tradesmen. For the dinner-giver is almost 
 naturally an ignorant man. How in mercy's name can Mr. 
 Serjeant Snorter, who is all day at Westminster, or in chambers, 
 know possibly the mysteries, the delicacy, of dinner-giving ? 
 How can Alderman Pogson know anything beyond the fact 
 that venison is good with currant-jelly, and that he likes lots of 
 green fat with his turtle ? Snorter knows law, Pogson is 
 acquainted with the state of the tallow-market ; but what should 
 he know of eating, like you and me, who have given up our 
 time to it ? (I say me only familiarly, for I have only reached 
 so far in the science as to know that I know nothing.) But 
 men there are, gifted individuals, who have spent years of deep 
 thought — not merely intervals of labor, but hours of study every 
 day — over the gormandizing science, — who, like alchemists, 
 have let their fortunes go, guinea by guinea, into the all-devour- 
 ing pot, — who, ruined as they sometimes are, never get a guinea 
 by chance but they will have a plate of pease in May with it, 
 or a little feast of ortolans, or a piece of Glo'ster salmon, or 
 one more flask from their favorite claret-bin. 
 
 It is not the ruined gastronomist that I would advise a per- 
 son to select as his table-master ; for the opportunities of pecula- 
 tion would be too great in a position of such confidence — such 
 complete abandonment of one man to another. A ruined man 
 would be making bargains with the tradesmen. They would 
 offer to cash bills for him, or send him opportune presents of 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 599 
 
 wine, which he could convert into money, or bribe him in one 
 way or another. Let this be done, and the profession of table- 
 master is ruined. Snorter and Pogson may almost as well 
 order their own dinners, as be at the mercy of a " gastronomic 
 agent V whose faith is not beyond all question. 
 
 A vulgar mind, in reply to these remarks regarding the 
 gastronomic ignorance of Snorter and Pogson, might say, 
 " True, these gentlemen know nothing of household economy, 
 being occupied with other more important business elsewhere. 
 But what are their wives about ? Lady Pogson in Harley Street 
 has nothing earthly to do but to mind her poodle, and her man- 
 tua-maker's and housekeeper's bills. Mrs. Snorter in Bedford 
 Place, when she has taken her drive in the Park with the young 
 ladies, may surely have time to attend to her husband's guests and 
 preside over the preparations of his kitchen, as she does wor- 
 thily at his hospitable mahogany." To this I answer, that a man 
 who expects a woman to understand the philosophy of dinner- 
 giving, shows the strongest evidence of a low mind. He is 
 unjust towards that lovely and delicate creature, woman, to 
 suppose that she heartily understands and cares for what she 
 eats and drinks. No • taken as a rule, women have no real 
 appetites. They are children in the gormandizing way • loving 
 sugar, sops, tarts, trifles, apricot-creams, and such gewgaws. 
 They would take a sip of Malmsey, and would drink currant- 
 wine just as happily, if that accursed liquor was presented to 
 them by the butler. Did you ever know a woman who could 
 lay her fair hand upon her gentle heart and say on her con- 
 science that she preferred dry sillery to sparkling champagne ? 
 Such a phenomenon does not exist. They are not made for 
 eating and drinking ; or, if they make a pretence to it, become 
 downright odious. Nor can they, I am sure, witness the prep- 
 arations of a really great repast without a certain jealousy. 
 They grudge spending money (ask guards, coachmen, inn- 
 waiters, whether this be not the case). They will give their all, 
 heaven bless them ! to serve a son, a grandson, or a dear rela- 
 tive, but they have not the heart to pay for small things magnif- 
 icently. They are jealous of good dinners, and no wonder. I 
 have shown in a former discourse how they are jealous of smo- 
 king, and other personal enjoyments of the male. I say, then, 
 that Lady Pogson or Mrs. Snorter can never conduct their hus- 
 bands' table properly. Fancy either of them consenting to 
 allow a calf to be stewed down into gravy for one dish, or a 
 dozen hares to be sacrificed to a single puree of game, or the 
 best Madeira to be used for a sauce, or a half a dozen cham- 
 
6oo 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 pagne to boil a ham in. They will be for bringing a bottle of 
 Marsala in place of the old particular, or for having the ham 
 cooked in water. But of these matters — of kitchen philosophy 
 — I have no practical or theoretic knowledge ; and must beg 
 pardon if, only understanding the goodness of a dish when 
 cooked, I may have unconsciously made some blunder regard- 
 ing the preparation. 
 
 Let it, then, be set down as an axiom, without further 
 trouble of demonstration, that a woman is a bad dinner-caterer ; 
 either too great and simple for it, or too mean — I don't know 
 which it is ; and gentlemen, according as they admire or con- 
 temn the sex, may settle the matter their own way. In brief, 
 the mental constitution of lovely woman is such that she can- 
 not give a great dinner. It must be done by man. It can't 
 be done by an ordinary man, because he does not understand 
 it. Vain fool ! and he sends off to the pastry-cook in Great 
 Russell Street or Baker Street, he lays on a couple of extra 
 waiters (green-grocers in the neighborhood), he makes a great 
 pother with his butler in the cellar, and fancies he has done the 
 business. 
 
 Bon Dieu / Who has not been at those dinners ? — those 
 monstrous exhibitions of the pastry-cook's art ? Who does not 
 know those made dishes with the universal sauce to each : 
 fricandeaux, sweetbreads, damp dumpy cutlets, &c, seasoned 
 with the compound of grease, onions, bad port-wine, cayenne 
 pepper, curry-powder (Warren's blacking, for what I know, but 
 the taste is always the same) — there they lie in the old corner 
 dishes, the poor wiry Moselle and sparkling Burgundy in the 
 ice-coolers, and the old story of white and brown soup, turbot, 
 little smelts, boiled turkey, saddle-of-mutton, and so forth ? 
 " Try a little of that fricandeau," says Mrs. Snorter, with a kind 
 smile. " You'll find it, I think, very nice.'' Be sure it has 
 come in a green tray from Great Russell Street. " Mr. Fitz- 
 Boodle, you have been in Germany," cries Snorter, knowingly ; 
 " taste the hock, and tell me what you think of that." 
 
 How should he know better, poor benighted creature ; or 
 she, dear good soul that she is ? If they would have a leg of 
 mutton and an apple-pudding, and a glass of sherry and port 
 (or simple brandy-and-water called by its own name) after din- 
 ner, all would be very well • but they must shine, they must 
 dine as their neighbors. There is no difference in the style of 
 dinners in London ; people with five hundred a year treat you 
 exactly as those of five thousand. They will have their Mo- 
 selle or hock, their fatal side-dishes brought in the green trays 
 from the pastry-cook's. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 601 
 
 Well, there is no harm done ; not as regards the dinner- 
 givers at least, though the dinner-eaters may have to suffer 
 somewhat ; it only shows that the former are hospitably inclined, 
 and wish to do the very best in their power, — good honest 
 fellows ! If they do wrong, how can they help it ? they know 
 no better. 
 
 And now, is it not as clear as the sun at noon-day, that a want 
 exists in London for a superintendent of~ the table — a gastro- 
 nomic agent — a dinner-master, as I have called him before ? 
 A man of such a profession would be a metropolitan benefit ; 
 hundreds of thousands of people of the respectable sort, people 
 in white waistcoats, would thank him daily. Calculate how 
 many dinners are given in the City of London, and calculate 
 the numbers of benedictions that " the Agency " might win. 
 
 And as no doubt the observant man of the world has 
 remarked that the freeborn Englishman of the respectable class 
 is, of all others, the most slavish and truckling to a lord ; that 
 there is no fly-blown peer but he is pleased to have him at his 
 table, proud beyond measure to call him by his surname (with- 
 out the lordly prefix) ; and that those lords whom he does not 
 know, he yet (the freeborn Englishman) takes care to have 
 their pedigrees and ages by heart from his world-bible, the 
 " Peerage : " as this is an indisputable fact, and as it is in this 
 particular class of Britons that our agent must look to find 
 clients, I need not say it is necessary that the agent should be 
 as high-born as possible, and that he should be able to tack, 
 if possible, an honorable or some other handle to his respect- 
 able name. He must have it on his professional card — 
 
 
 
 
 Apician Chambers, Pall Mall. 
 
 
 
 
 
 Amphitryonic Council Office, Swallow Street. 
 
 or, in some such neat way, Gothic letters on a large handsome 
 crockeryware card, with possibly a gilt coat-of-arms and sup- 
 
602 
 
 THE FITZ-B O ODL E PAPERS. 
 
 porters, or the blood-red hand of baronetcy duly displayed. 
 Depend on it plenty of guineas will fall in it, and that Gobble- 
 ton's supporters will support him comfortably enough. 
 
 For this profession is not like that of the auctioneer, which 
 I take to be a far more noble one, because more varied and 
 more truthful ; but in the Agency case, a little humbug at least 
 is necessary. A man cannot be a successful agent by the mere 
 force of his simple merit or genius in eating and drinking. He 
 must of necessity impose upon the vulgar to a certain degree. 
 He must be of that rank which will lead them naturally to 
 respect him, otherwise they might be led to jeer at his profes- 
 sion ; but let a noble exercise it, and bless your soul, all the 
 " Court Guide " is dumb ! 
 
 He will then give out in a manly and somewhat pompous 
 address what has before been mentioned, namely, that he has 
 seen the fatal way in which the hospitality of England has been 
 perverted hitherto, accapare'd by a few cooks with green trays. 
 (He must use a good deal of French in his language, for that 
 is considered very gentlemanlike by vulgar people.) He will 
 take a set of chambers in Carlton Gardens, which will be richly 
 though severely furnished, and the door of which will be opened 
 by a French valet (he must be a Frenchman, remember), who 
 will say, on letting Mr. Snorter or Sir Benjamin Pogson in, 
 that " Milor is at home." Pogson will then be shown into a 
 library furnished with massive book-cases, containing all the 
 works on cookery and wines (the titles of them) in all the known 
 languages in the world. Any books, of course, will do, as you 
 will have them handsomely bound, and keep them under plate- 
 glass. On a side-table will be little sample-bottles of wines, 
 a few truffles on a white porcelain saucer, a prodigious straw- 
 berry or two, perhaps, at the time when such fruit costs much 
 money. On the library will be busts marked Ude, Careme, 
 Bechamel, in marble (never mind what heads, of course) ; and, 
 perhaps, on the clock should be a figure of the Prince of 
 Concle's cook killing himself because the fish had not arrived 
 in time : there may be a wreath of immortelles on the figure to 
 give it a more decidedly Frenchified air. The walls will be of 
 a dark rich paper, hung round with neat gilt frames, containing 
 plans of menus of various great dinners, those of Cambaceres, 
 Napoleon, Louis XIV., Louis XVIII., Heliogabalus if you like, 
 each signed by the respective cook. 
 
 After the stranger has looked about him at these things, 
 which he does not understand in the least, especially the truf- 
 fles, which look like dirty potatoes, you will make your appear- 
 
FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 603 
 
 ance, dressed in a dark dress, with one handsome enormous 
 gold chain, and one large diamond ring ; a gold snuff-box, of 
 course, which you will thrust into the visitor's paw before say- 
 ing a word. You will be yourself a portly grave man, with 
 your hair a little bald and gray. In fact, in this, as in all 
 other professions, you had best try to look as like Canning as 
 you can. 
 
 When Pogson has done sneezing with the snuff, you will 
 say to him, " Take a fauteuil. I have the honor of addressing 
 Sir Benjamin Pogson, I believe ? " And then you will explain 
 to him your system. 
 
 This, of course, must vary with every person you address. 
 But let us lay down a few of the heads of a plan which may be 
 useful, or may be modified infinitely, or may be cast aside 
 altogether, just as circumstances dictate. After all / am not 
 going to turn gastronomic agent, and speak only for the benefit 
 perhaps of the very person who is reading this : — 
 
 "synopsis of the gastronomic agency of the honorable 
 
 george gobbleton. 
 
 " The Gastronomic Agent having traversed Europe, and 
 dined with the best society of the world, has been led naturally, 
 as a patriot, to turn his thoughts homeward, and cannot but 
 deplore the lamentable ignorance regarding gastronomy dis- 
 played in a country for which Nature has done almost every- 
 thing. 
 
 " But it is ever singularly thus. Inherent ignorance belongs 
 to man 5 and The Agent, in his Continental travels, has always 
 remarked, that the countries most fertile in themselves were 
 invariably worse tilled than those more barren. The Italians 
 and the Spaniards leave their fields to Nature, as we leave our 
 vegetables, fish, and meat. And, heavens ! what richness do 
 we fling away, — what dormant qualities in our dishes do we 
 disregard, — what glorious gastronomic crops (if The Agent 
 may be permitted the expression) — what glorious gastronomic 
 crops do we sacrifice, allowing our goodly meats and fishes to 
 lie fallow ! f Chance/ it is said by an ingenious historian, who, 
 having been long a secretary in the East India House, must 
 certainly have had access to the best information upon Eastern 
 matters, — 'Chance,' it is said by Mr. Charles Lamb, 'which 
 burnt down a Chinaman's house, with a litter of sucking-pigs 
 that were unable to escape from the interior, discovered to the 
 world the excellence of roast pig.' Gunpowder, we know, was 
 
 39 
 
604 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 invented by a similar fortuity." [The reader will observe that 
 my style in the supposed character of a Gastronomic Agent is 
 purposely pompous and loud.] " So, 'tis said, was printing, — 
 so glass. — We should have drunk our wine poisoned with the 
 villanous odor of the borachio, had not some Eastern mer- 
 chants, lighting their fires in the Desert, marked the strange 
 composition which now glitters on our sideboards, and holds 
 the costly produce of our vines. 
 
 " We have spoken of the natural riches of a country. Let 
 the reader think but for one moment of the gastronomic wealth 
 of our country of England, and he will be lost in thankful 
 amazement as he watches the astonishing riches poured out 
 upon us from Nature's bounteous cornucopia ! Look at our 
 fisheries ! — the trout and salmon tossing in our brawling 
 streams ; the white and full-breasted turbot struggling in the 
 mariner's net ; the purple lobster lured by hopes of greed into 
 his basket-prison, which he quits only for the red ordeal of the 
 pot. Look at whitebait, great heavens ! — look at whitebait, 
 and a thousand frisking, glittering, silvery things besides, which 
 the nymphs of our native streams bear kindly to the deities of 
 our kitchens — our kitchens such as they are. 
 
 " And though it may be said that other countries produce 
 the freckle-backed salmon and the dark broad-shouldered tur- 
 bot ; though trout frequent many a stream besides those of 
 England, and lobsters sprawl on other sands than ours ; yet, 
 let it be remembered, that our native country possesses these 
 altogether, while other lands only know them separately ; that, 
 above all, whitebait is peculiarly our country's — our city's own ! 
 Blessings and eternal praises be on it, and, of course, on brown 
 bread and butter ! And the Briton should further remember, 
 with honest pride and thankfulness, the situation of his capital, 
 of London : the lordly turtle floats from the sea into the stream, 
 and from the stream to the city ; the rapid fleets of all the 
 world se donnent ixudezvous in the docks of our silvery Thames ; 
 the produce of our coasts and provincial cities, east and west, 
 is borne to us on the swift lines of lightning railroads. In a 
 word- — and no man but one who, like The Agent, has travelled 
 Europe over, can appreciate the gift — there is no city on earth's 
 surface so well supplied with fish as London ! 
 
 " With respect to our meats, all praise is supererogatory. 
 Ask the wretched hunter of chevreuil, the poor devourer of 
 rehbraten, what they think of the noble English haunch, that, 
 after bounding in the Park of Knole or Windsor, exposes its 
 magnificent flank upon some broad silver platter at our tables ? 
 
FITZ-BOODLE'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 605 
 
 It is enough to say of foreign venison, that they are obliged to 
 lard it. Away ! ours is the palm of roast * whether of the crisp 
 mutton that crops the thymy herbage of our clowns, or the 
 noble ox who revels on lush Althorpian oil-cakes. What game 
 is like to ours ? Mans excels us in poultry, 'tis true ; but 'tis 
 only in merry England that the partridge has a flavor, that the 
 turkey can almost se passer de truffes, that the jolly juicy goose 
 can be eaten as he deserves. 
 
 " Our vegetables, moreover, surpass all comment ; Art (by 
 the means of glass) has wrung fruit out of the bosom of Nature, 
 such as she grants to no other clime. And if we have no 
 vineyard's on bur hills, we have gold to purchase their best 
 produce. Nature, and enterprise that masters Nature, have 
 done everything for our land. 
 
 ;< But, with all these prodigious riches in our power, is it 
 not painful to reflect how absurdly we employ them ? Can we 
 say that we are in the habit of dining well ? Alas ! no ! and 
 The Agent, roaming o'er our lands, and seeing how, with small 
 means and great ingenuity and perseverance, great ends were 
 effected, comes back sadly to his own country, whose wealth he 
 sees absurdly wasted, whose energies are misdirected, and 
 whose vast capabilities are allowed to lie idle. # # * " 
 [Here should follow what I have only hinted at previously, a 
 vivid and terrible picture of the degradation of our table.] 
 * # q]^ f or a mas ter spirit, to give an impetus to the 
 land, to see its great power directed in the right way, and its 
 wealth not squandered or hidden, but nobly put out to interest 
 and spent ! 
 
 u The Agent dares not hope to win that proud station — to 
 be the destroyer of a barbarous system wallowing in abusive 
 prodigality — to become a dietetic reformer — the Luther of the 
 table. 
 
 " But convinced of the wrongs which exist, he will do his 
 humble endeavor to set them right, and to those who know that 
 they are ignorant (and this is a vast step to knowledge) he 
 offers his counsels, his active co-operation, his frank and kindly 
 sympathy. The Agent's qualifications are these : — 
 
 " 1. He is of one of the best families in England ; and has 
 in himself, or through his ancestors, been accustomed to good 
 living for centuries. In the reign of Henry V., his maternal 
 great-great-grandfather, Roger De Gobylton " [the name may be 
 varied, of course, or the king's reign, or the dish invented\ " was 
 the first who discovered the method of roasting a peacock 
 whole, with his tail-feathers displayed ; and the dish was served 
 
6o6 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 to the two kings at Rouen. Sir Walter Cramley, in Elizabeth's 
 reign, produced before her Majesty, when at Killingworth 
 Castle, mackerel with the famous gooseberry sauce, &c. 
 
 " 2. He has, through life, devoted himself to no other study 
 than that of the table : and has visited to that end the courts 
 of all the monarchs of Europe : taking the receipts of the cooks, 
 with whom he lives on terms of intimate friendship, often at 
 enormous expense to himself. 
 
 " 3. He has the same acquaintance with all the vintages of the 
 Continent \ having passed the autumn of 181 1 (the comet year) 
 on the great Weinberg of Johannisberg • being employed sim- 
 ilarly at Bordeaux, in 1834; at Oporto, in 1820; and at Xeres 
 de la Frontera, with his excellent friends, Duff, Gordon and 
 Co., the year after. He travelled to India and back in com- 
 pany with fourteen pipes of Madeira (on board of the 6 Samuel 
 Snob ' East Indiaman, Captain Scuttler), and spent the vin- 
 tage season in the island, with unlimited powers of observation 
 granted to him by the great houses there. 
 
 " 4. He has attended Mr. Groves of Charing Cross, and 
 Mr. Giblett of Bond Street, in a course of purchases of fish and 
 meat ; and is able at a glance to recognize the age of mutton, 
 the primeness of beef, the firmness and freshness of fish of all 
 kinds. 
 
 " 5. He has visited the parks, the grouse-manors, and the 
 principal gardens of England, in a similar professional point of 
 view." 
 
 The Agent then, through his subordinates, engages to pro- 
 vide gentlemen who are about to give dinner-parties — 
 
 " 1. With cooks to dress the dinners ; a list of which gen- 
 tlemen he has by him, and will recommend none who are not 
 worthy of the strictest confidence. 
 
 " 2. With a menu for the table, according to the price which 
 the Amphitryon chooses to incur. 
 
 " 3. He will, through correspondence with the various 
 fournisseurs of the metropolis, provide them with viands, fruit, 
 wine, &c, sending to Paris, if need be, where he has a regular 
 correspondence with Messrs. Chevet. 
 
 " 4. He has a list of dexterous table-waiters (all answering 
 to name of John for fear of mistakes, the butler's name to be 
 settled according to pleasure), and would strongly recommend 
 that the servants of the house should be locked in the back 
 kitchen or servants' hall during the time the dinner takes 
 place. 
 
FITZ-BOODLE 'S PROFESSIONS. 
 
 607 
 
 " 5. He will receive and examine all the accounts of the 
 fournisseurs, — of course pledging his honor as a gentleman not 
 to receive one shilling of paltry gratification from the trades- 
 men he employs, but to see the bills are more moderate, and 
 their goods of better quality than they would provide to any 
 of less experience than himself. 
 
 " 6. His fee for superintending a dinner will be five guineas : 
 and The Agent entreats his clients to trust entirely to him and 
 his subordinates for the arrangement of the repast, — not to think 
 of inserting dishes of their own invention, or producing wine 
 from their own cellars, as he engages to have it brought in the 
 best order, and fit for immediate drinking. Should the Am- 
 phitryon, however, desire some particular dish or wine, he must 
 consult The Agent, in the first case by writing, in the second, 
 by sending a sample to the Agent's chambers. For it is mani- 
 fest that the w r hole complexion of a dinner may be altered by 
 the insertion of a single dish ; and, therefore, parties will do 
 well to mention their wishes on the first interview with the 
 Agent. He cannot be called upon to recompose his bill of fare, 
 except at great risk to the ensemble of the dinner and enormous 
 inconvenience to himself. 
 
 " 7. The Agent will be at home for consultation from ten 
 o'clock until two — earlier, if gentlemen who are engaged at 
 early hours in the City desire to have an interview : and be it 
 remembered, that a personal interview is always the best : for it 
 is greatly necessary to know not only the number but the char- 
 acter of the guests whom the Amphitryon proposes to entertain, 
 — whether they are fond of any particular wine or dish, what 
 is their state of health, rank, style, profession, &c. 
 
 11 8. At two o'clock, he will commence his rounds ; for as 
 the metropolis is wide, it is clear that he must be early in the 
 field in some districts. From 2 to 3 he will be in Russell 
 Square and the neighborhood j 3 to 3^, Harley Street, Port- 
 land Place, Cavendish Square, and environs ; 3^ to 4^, Port- 
 man Square, Gloucester Place, Baker Street, &c, 4.% to 5, the 
 new district about Hyde Park Terrace ; 5 to 5^, St. John's Wood 
 and the Regent's Park. He will be in Grosvenor Square by 6, 
 and in Belgrave Square, Pimlico, and its vicinity, by 7. Parties 
 there are requested not to dine until 8 o'clock ; and The 
 Agent, once for all, peremptorily announces that he will not 
 go to the palace, where it is utterly impossible to serve a good 
 dinner." 
 
6o8 
 
 THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS. 
 
 " TO TRADESMEN. 
 
 " Every Monday evening during the season the Gastro- 
 nomic Agent proposes to give a series of trial-dinners, to which 
 the principal gourmands of the metropolis, and a few of The 
 Agent's most respectable clients, will be invited. Covers will 
 be laid for ten at nine o'clock precisely. And as The Agent 
 does not propose to exact a single shilling of profit from their 
 bills, and as his recommendation will be of infinite value to 
 them, the tradesmen he employs will furnish the weekly dinner 
 gratis. Cooks will attend (who have acknowledged characters) 
 upon the same terms. To save trouble, a book will be kept 
 where butchers, poulterers, fishmongers, &c., may inscribe their 
 names in order, taking it by turns to supply the trial-table. 
 Wine-merchants will naturally compete every week promis- 
 cuously, sending what they consider their best samples, and 
 leaving with the hall-porter tickets of the prices. Confectionery 
 to be done out of the house. Fruiterers, market-men, as 
 butchers and poulterers. The Agent's mditre-d 1 hotel will give a 
 receipt to each individual for the articles he produces * and let 
 all remember that The Agent is a very keen judge, and woe 
 betide those who serve him or his clients ill ! 
 
 " George Gormand Gobbleton. 
 
 " Carlton Gardens, yune 10, 1842." 
 
 Here I have sketched out the heads of such an address as I 
 conceive a gastronomic agent might put forth ; and appeal 
 pretty confidently to the British public regarding its merits and 
 my own discovery. If this be not a profession — a new one — a 
 feasible one — a lucrative one, — I don't know what is. Say 
 that a man attends but fifteen dinners daily, that is seventy-five 
 guineas, or five hundred and fifty pounds weekly, or fourteen 
 thousand three hundred pounds for a season of six months: 
 and how many of our younger sons have such a capital even ? 
 Let, then, some unemployed gentleman with the requisite quali- 
 fications come forward. It will not be necessary that he should 
 have done all that is stated in the prospectus ; but, at any rate, 
 let him say he has : there can't be much harm in an innocent 
 fib of that sort ; for the gastronomic agent must be a sort of 
 dinner-pope, whose opinions cannot be supposed to err. 
 
 And as he really will be an excellent judge of eating and 
 drinking, and will bring his whole mind to bear upon the ques- 
 tion, and will speedily acquire an experience which no person 
 
FITZ-B O ODLE r S PROFESSIONS, 
 
 out of the profession can possibly have ; and as, moreover, he 
 will be an honorable man, not practising upon his client in any 
 way, or demanding sixpence beyond his just fee, the world will 
 gain vastly by the coming forward of such a person — gain in good 
 dinners, and absolutely save money : for what is five guineas 
 for a dinner of sixteen ? The sum may be gaspille by a cook- 
 wench, or by one of those abominable before-named pastry- 
 cooks with their green trays. 
 
 If any man take up the business, he will invite me, of 
 course, to the Monday dinners. Or does ingratitude go so far 
 as that a man should forget the author of his good fortune ? I 
 believe it does. Turn we away from the sickening theme ! 
 
 And now, having concluded my professions, how shall I ex- 
 press my obligations to the discriminating press of this country 
 for the unanimous applause which hailed my first appearance ? 
 It is the more wonderful, as I pledge my sacred word, I never 
 wrote a document before much longer than a laundress's bill, 
 or the acceptance of an invitation to dinner." But enough of 
 this egotism : thanks for praise conferred sound like vanity ; 
 gratitude is hard to speak of, and at present it swells the full 
 heart of 
 
 George Savage Fitz-Boodle. 
 
 END OF "THE FITZ-BOODLE PAPERS." 
 
THE 
 
 WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
 
 Mr. Horace Milliken, a Widower, a wealthy City Merchant. 
 George Milliken, a Child, his Son. 
 Captain Touchit, his Friend. 
 
 Clarence Kicklebury, brother to Milliken'' s late Wife. 
 
 John Howell, Af.'s Butler and confidential Servant. 
 
 Charles Page, Foot-boy. 
 
 Bulkeley, Lady Kicklebury 's Servant, 
 
 Mr. Bonnington. 
 
 Coachman, Cabman; a Bluecoat Boy, another Boy (Mrs. Prior's 
 Sons.) 
 
 Lady Kicklebury, Mother-in-law to Milliken. 
 
 Mrs. Bonnington, Milliken's Mother (married again). 
 
 Mrs. Prior. 
 
 Miss Prior, her Daughter, Governess to Milliken 's Children, 
 Arabella Milliken, a Child. 
 Mary Barlow, School-room Maid. 
 
 A grown-up Girl and Child of Mrs. Prior 's, Lady K?s Maid, 
 Cook, 
 
THE 
 
 WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 ACT t 
 
 Scene. — Milliken's villa at Richmond ; two drawing-rooms 
 opening into one another. The late Mrs. Milliken's portrait 
 over the mantel-piece ; book-cases, writing-tables, piano, news- 
 papers, a handsomely furnished saloon. The backroom opens 
 with very large windows, on the lawn and pleasure-ground ; 
 gate, and wall — over which the heads of a cab and a carriage 
 are seen, as persons arrive. Fruit, and a ladder on the walls. 
 A door to the dining-room, another to the sleepifig apartments, 
 &*c. 
 
 John. — Everybody out ; governor in the city • governess 
 (heigh-ho !) walking in the Park with the children \ ladyship 
 gone out in the carriage. Let's sit down and have a look at 
 the papers. Buttons ! fetch the Morning Post out of Lady 
 Kicklebury's room. Where's the Daily News, sir ? 
 
 Page. — Think it's in Milliken's room. 
 
 John. — Milliken ! you scoundrel ! What do you mean by 
 Milliken ? Speak of your employer as your governor if you 
 like • but riot as simple Milliken. Confound your impudence ! 
 you'll be calling me Howell next. 
 
 Page. — Well ! I didn't know. You call him Milliken. 
 
 m ohn. — Because I know him, because I'm intimate with him, 
 because there's not a secret he has but I may have it for the 
 asking ; because the letters addressed to Horace Milliken, Esq., 
 might as well be addressed John Howell, Esq., for I read 'em, 
 I put 'em away and docket 'em, and remember 'em. I know 
 
 -(613) 
 
614 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 his affairs better than he does : his income to a shilling, pay 
 his tradesmen, wear his coats if I like, /may call Mr. Milliken 
 what I please ; but not you, you little scamp of a clod-hopping 
 ploughboy. Know your station and do your business, or you 
 don't wear them buttons long, I promise you. [Exit Page.] 
 
 Let me go on with the paper [reads]. How brilliant this 
 writing is ! Times, Chronicle, Daily News, they're all good, 
 blest if they ain't. How much better the nine leaders in them 
 three daily papers is, than nine speeches in the House of Com- 
 mons ! Take a very best speech in the 'Ouse now, and com- 
 pare it with an article in The Times ! I say, the newspaper 
 has the best of it for philosophy, for wit, novelty, good sense 
 too. And the party that writes the leading article is nobody, 
 and the chap that speaks in the House of Commons is a hero. 
 Lord, Lord, how the world is 'umbugged ! Pop'lar representa- 
 tion ! what is pop'lar representation? Dammy, it's a farce. 
 Hallo ! this article is stole ! I remember a passage in Montes- 
 quieu uncommonly like it. [Goes and gets the book. As he is 
 standing upon the sofa to get it, a7id sitting doivn to read it, Miss 
 Prior a?id the Children have come in at the garden. Children 
 pass across stage. Miss Prior enters by open window, bringing 
 flowers into the room.] 
 
 John. — It is like it. [He slaps the book, and seeing Miss 
 Prior who enters, then jumps up from sofa, saying very respect- 
 
 John. — I beg your pardon, Miss. 
 
 Miss P. — [sarcastically ?± Do I disturb you, Howell ? 
 
 John. — Disturb ! I have no right to say — a servant has no 
 right to be disturbed, but I hope I may be pardoned for ven- 
 turing to look at a volume in the libery, Miss, just in reference 
 to a newspaper harticle — that's all, Miss. 
 
 Miss P. — You are very fortunate in finding anything to in- 
 terest you in the paper, I'm sure. 
 
 John. — Perhaps, Miss, you are not accustomed to political 
 discussion, and ignorant of — ah — I beg your pardon : a servant, 
 I know, has no right to speak. [Exit into dining-room, making 
 a low bow.] 
 
 Miss Prior. — The coolness of some people is really quite 
 extraordinary ! the airs they give themselves, the way in which 
 they answer one, the books they read ! Montesquieu : " Esprit 
 des Lois ! " [takes book up which y. has left on sofa.] I believe 
 the man has actually taken this from the shelf. I am sure Mr. 
 Milliken, or her ladyship, never would. The other day " Hel- 
 vetius " was found in Mr. Howell's pantry, forsooth ! It is 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 6i5 
 
 wonderful how he picked up French whilst we were abroad. 
 " Esprit des Lois ! " what is it ? it must be dreadfully stupid. 
 And as for reading " Helvetius " (who, I suppose, was a Roman 
 
 general), I really can't understand how Dear, dear ! what 
 
 airs these persons give themselves ! What will come next ? A 
 footman — I beg Mr. Howell's pardon — a butler and confiden- 
 tial valet lolls on the drawing-room sofa, and reads Montes- 
 quieu ! Impudence ! And add to this, he follows me for the 
 last two or three months with eyes that are quite horrid. What 
 can the creature mean ? But I forgot — I am only a governess. 
 A governess is not a lady — a governess is but a servant — a 
 governess is to work and walk all day with the children, dine 
 in the school-room, and come to the drawing-room to play the 
 man of the house to sleep. A governess is a domestic, only 
 her place is not the servants' hall, and she is paid not quite so 
 well as the butler who serves her her glass of wine. Odious ! 
 George ! Arabella ! there are those little wretches quarrelling 
 again ! Exit, Children are heard calling out, and seen quarrelling 
 in gar den ?\ 
 
 John [re-entering]. — See where she moves ! grace is in all 
 her steps. 'Eaven in her high — no — a-heaven in her heye, in 
 every gesture dignity and love — ah, I wish I could say it ! I 
 wish you may procure it, poor fool ! She passes by me — she 
 tr-r-amples on me. Here's the chair she sets in [kisses it.] 
 Here's the piano she plays on. Pretty keys, them fingers 
 outhivories you ! When she plays on it, I stand and listen at 
 the drawing-room door, and my heart thr-obs in time ! Fool, 
 fool, fool ! why did you look on her, John Howell ! why did 
 you beat for her, busy heart ! You were tranquil till you knew 
 her ! I thought I could have been a-happy with Mary till then. 
 That girl's affection soothed me. Her conversation didn't 
 amuse me much, her ideers ain't exactly elevated, but they are 
 just and proper. Her attentions pleased me. She ever kep' 
 the best cup of tea for me. She crisped my buttered toast, or 
 mixed my quiet tumbler for me, as I sat of hevenings and read 
 my newspaper in the kitching. She respected the sa-nctaty of 
 my pantry. When I was a-studying there, she never inter- 
 rupted me. She darned my stockings for me, she starched 
 and folded my chokers, and she sowed on the habsent buttons 
 of which time and chance had bereft my linning. She has a 
 good heart, Mary has. I know she'd get up and black the 
 boots for me of the coldest winter mornings. She did when " 
 we was in humbler life, she did. 
 
6i6 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB, 
 
 Enter Mary. 
 
 You have good heart, Mary ! 
 
 Mary. — Have I, dear John ? [sadly.'] 
 
 John. — Yes, child — yes. I think a better never beat in 
 woman's bosom. You're good to everybody — good to your 
 parents whom you send half your wages to : good to your em- 
 ployers whom you never robbed of a halfpenny. 
 
 Mary [whimpering]. — Yes, I did, John. I took the jelly 
 when you were in bed with the influenza ; and brought you the 
 pork-wine negus. 
 
 John. — Port, not pork, child. Pork is the hanimal which 
 Jews ab'or. Port is from Oporto in Portugal. 
 
 Mary [still crying]. — Yes, John \ you know everything a'most, 
 John. 
 
 John. — And you, poor child, but little ! It's not heart you 
 want, you little trump, it's education, Mary : it's information : 
 it's head, head, head ! You can't learn. You never can learn. 
 Your ideers ain't no good. You never can hinterchange 'em 
 with mine. Conversation between us is impossible. It's not 
 your fault. Some people are born clever ; some are born tall, 
 I ain't tall. 
 
 Mary. — Ho ! you're big enough for me, John. [Offers to 
 take his hand.] 
 
 John. — Let go my 'and — my a-hand, Mary ! I say, some 
 people are born with brains, and some with big figures. Look 
 at that great ass, Bulkeley, Lady K.'s man — the besotted, stupid 
 beast ! He's as big as a life-guardsman, but he ain't no more 
 education nor ideers than the ox he feeds on. 
 
 Mary. — Law, John, whatever do you mean ? 
 
 John. — Hm ! you know not, little one ! you never can 
 know. Have you ever felt the pangs of imprisoned genius ? 
 have you ever felt what 'tis to be a slave ? 
 
 Mary. — Not in a free country, I should hope, John Howell 
 — no such a thing. A place is a place, and I know mine, and 
 am content with the spear of life in which it pleases heaven to 
 place me, John : and I wish you were, and remembered what 
 we learned from our parson when we went to school together 
 in dear old Pigeoncot, John — when you used to help little Mary 
 with her lessons, John, and fought Bob Brown, the big butcher's 
 boy, because he was rude to me, John, and he gave you that 
 black hi. 
 
 John. — Say eye, Mary, not heye [gently]. 
 
 Mary. — Eye ; and I thought you never looked better in all 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 617 
 
 your life than you did then : and we both took service at Squire 
 Milliken's — me as a dairy-girl, and you as knife-boy ; and 
 good masters have they been to us from our youth hup : both 
 old Squire Milliken and Mr. Charles as is master now, and 
 poor Mrs. as is dead, though she had her tantrums — and I 
 thought we should save up and take the " Milliken Arms " — 
 and now we have saved up — and now, now, now — oh, you are 
 a stone, a stone, a stone ! and I wish you were hung round my 
 neck, and I were put down the well ! There's the hup-stairs 
 bell. [She starts changing her manner as she hears the bell, 
 and exit.] 
 
 John [looking after her], — It's all true. Gospel-true. We 
 were children in the same village — sat on the same form at 
 school. And it was for her sake that Bob Brown the butcher's 
 boy whopped me. A black eye ! I'm not handsome. But if 
 I were ugly, ugly as the Saracen's 'Ead, ugly as that beast 
 Bulkeley, I know it would be all the same to Mary. She has 
 never forgot the boy she loved, that brought birds'-nests for 
 her, and spent his halfpenny on cherries, and bought a fairing 
 with his first half-crown — a brooch it was, I remember, of two 
 billing doves a-hopping on one twig, and brought it home for 
 little yellow-haired, blue-eyed, red-cheeked Mary. Lord, Lord ! 
 I don't like to think how I've kissed 'em, the pretty cheeks ! 
 they've got quite pale now with crying — and she has never 
 once reproached me, not once, the trump, the little tr-oump ! 
 
 Is it my fault [stamping] that Fate has separated us ? Why 
 did my young master take me up to Oxford, and give me the 
 run of his libery and the society of the best scouts in the Uni- 
 versity ? Why did he take me abroad ? Why have I been to 
 Italy, France, Jummany with him — their manners noted and 
 their realms surveyed, by jingo ! I've improved myself, and 
 Mary has remained as you was. I try a conversation, and she 
 can't respond. She's never got a word of poetry beyond 
 Watt's Ims, and if I talk of Byron or Moore to her, I'm blest 
 if she knows anything more about 'em than the cook, who is 
 as hignorant as a pig, or that beast Bulkeley, Lady Kick's 
 footman. Above all, why, why did I see the woman upon 
 whom my wretched heart is fixed forever, and who carries 
 away my soul with her — prostrate, I say, prostrate, through the 
 mud at the skirts of her gownd ! Enslaver ! why did I ever 
 come near you ? O enchantress Kelipso ! how you have got 
 hold of me ! It was Fate, Fate, Fate. When Mrs. Milliken 
 fell ill of scarlet fever at Naples, Milliken was away at Peters- 
 borough, Rooshia. looking after his property. Her foring 
 
6i8 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 woman fled. Me and the governess remained and nursed hef 
 and the children. We nursed the little ones out of the fever. 
 We buried their mother. We brought the children home over 
 Halp and Happenine. I nursed 'em all three. I tended 'em 
 all three, the orphans, and the lovely gu-gu-governess. At 
 Rome, where she took ill, I waited on her ; as we went to 
 Florence, had we been attacked by twenty thousand brigands, 
 this little arm had courage for them all ! And if I loved thee, 
 Julia, was I wrong ? and if I basked in thy beauty day and 
 night, Julia, am I not a man ? and if, before this Peri, this en- 
 chantress, this gazelle, I forgot poor little Mary Barlow, how 
 could I help it ? I say, how the doose could I help it ? 
 
 [Enter Lady Kicklebury, Bulkeley following with parcels 
 
 and a spaniel^ 
 
 Lady K. — Are the children and the governess come home ? 
 « John. — Yes, my lady [in a perfectly altered lone]. 
 
 Lady K. — Bulkeley, take those parcels to my sitting-room. 
 
 John. — Get up, old stoopid. Push along, old daddylonglegs 
 [aside to Bulkeley]. 
 
 Lady K. — Does any one dine here to-day, Howell ? 
 
 John. — Captain Touchit, my lady. 
 
 Lady K. — He's always dining here. 
 
 John. — My master's oldest friend. 
 
 Lady K. — Don't tell me. He comes from his club. He 
 smells of smoke ; he is a low, vulgar person. Send Pinhorn 
 up to me when you go down stairs. [Exit Lady 
 
 John. — I know. Send Pinhorn to me, means, Send my 
 bonny brown hair, and send my beautiful complexion, and send 
 my figure — and, O Lord ! O Lord ! what an old tigress that 
 is ! What an old Hector ! How she do twist Milliken round 
 her thumb ! He's born to be bullied by women : and I remem- 
 ber him henpecked — let's see, ever since — ever since the time 
 of that little gloveress at Woodstock, whose picter poor Mrs. 
 M. made such a noise about when she found it in the lumber- 
 room. Heh ! her picture will be going into the lumber-room 
 some day. M. must marry to get rid of his mother-in-law and 
 mother over him : no man can stand it, not M. himself, who's 
 a Job of a man. Isn't he, look at him ! [As he has been speak- 
 ing, the bell has rung, the Page has run to the garden-door, and 
 Milliken enters through the garden, laden with a hamper, band- 
 box and cricket-bat^ 
 
 Milliken. — Why was the carriage not sent for me, Howell ? 
 
THE WOL VMS AND THE LAMB. 
 
 619 
 
 There was no cab at the station, and I have had to toil all the 
 way up the hill with these confounded parcels of my lady's. 
 
 John. — I suppose the shower took off all the cabs, sir. 
 When did a man ever get a cab in a shower? — or a policeman 
 at a pinch — or a friend when you wanted him — or anything at 
 the right time, sir ? 
 
 Milliken. — But, sir, why didn't the carriage come, I say ? 
 
 John. — You know. 
 
 Milliken. — How do you mean I know ? confound your im- 
 pudence ! 
 
 John. — Lady Kicklebury took it — your mother-in-law took 
 it — went out a-visiting — Ham Common, Petersham, Twick'nam 
 — doose knows where. She, and her footman, and her span'l 
 dog. 
 
 Milliken. — Well, sir, suppose her ladyship did take the 
 carriage ? Hasn't she a perfect right ? And if the carriage 
 was gone, I want to know, John, why the devil the pony-chaise 
 wasn't sent with the groom ? Am I to bring a bonnet-box and 
 a hamper of fish in my own hands, I should like to know ? 
 
 John. — Heh ! [laughs], 
 
 Milliken.— Why do you grin, you Cheshire cat ? 
 
 John. — Your mother-in-law had the carriage ; and your 
 mother sent for the pony-chaise. Your Pa wanted to go and 
 see the Wicar of Putney. Mr. Bonnington don't like walking 
 when he can ride. 
 
 . Milliken. — And why shouldn't Mr. Bonnington ride, sir, 
 as long as there's a. carriage in my stable ? Mr. Bonnington 
 has had the gout-, sir ! Mr. Bonnington is a clergyman, and 
 married to my mother. He has every title to my respect. 
 
 John. — And to your pony-chaise — yes, sir. 
 
 Milliken. — And to everything he likes in this house, sir. 
 
 John. — What a good fellow you are, sir ! You'd give your 
 head off your shoulders, that you would. Is the fish for dinner 
 to-day ? Bandbox for my lady, I suppose, sir ? [Looks in] — 
 Turban, feathers, bugles, marabouts, spangles — doose knows 
 what. Yes, it's for her ladyship. [To Page]. Charles, take 
 this bandbox to her ladyship's maid. [To his master?^ What 
 sauce would you like with the turbot ? Lobster sauce or Hoi- 
 landaise? Hollandaise is best — most wholesome for you. Any- 
 body besides Captain Touchit coming to dinner ? 
 
 Milliken. — No one that I know of. 
 
 John.— Very good. Bring up a bottle of the brown hock ? 
 He likes the brown hock, Touchit does. [Exit John.] 
 
 40 
 
620 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Enter Children. They rim to Milliken. 
 
 Both. — How d'you do, Papa ! How do you do, Papa ! 
 
 Milliken. — Kiss your old father, Arabella. Come here 
 George What ? 
 
 George. — Don't care for kissing — kissing's for gals. Have 
 you brought me that bat from London ? 
 
 Milliken. — Yes. Here's the bat; and here's the ball [takes 
 one from pocket] — and 
 
 George — Where's the wickets, Papa. O-o-o — where's the 
 wickets ? [howls.] 
 
 Milliken. — My dear, darling boy! I left them at the 
 office. What a silly papa I was to forget them ! Parkins for- 
 got them. 
 
 George. — Then turn him away, I say ! Turn him away ! 
 
 [He stamps?] 
 
 Milliken. — What ! an old, faithful clerk and servant of 
 your father and grandfather for thirty years past ? An old 
 man, who loves us all, and has nothing but our pay to live on ? 
 
 Arabella. — Oh, you naughty boy ! 
 
 George. — I ain't a naughty boy. 
 
 Arabella. — You are a naughty boy. 
 
 George. — He ! he ! he ! he ! [Grins at her.] 
 
 Milliken. — Hush, children ! Here, Arabella darling, here 
 is a book for you. Look — aren't they pretty pictures ? 
 
 Arabella. — Is it a story, Papa ? I don't care for stories in 
 general. I like something instructive and serious. Grand- 
 mamma Bonnington and grandpapa say 
 
 George. — He's not your grandpapa. 
 
 Arabella. — He is my grandpapa. 
 
 George. — Oh, you great story ! Look ! look ! there's a cab. 
 [Runs out. The head of a Hansom cab is seen over the garden gate. 
 Bell rings. Page comes. Altercation betwee?i Cabman and Cap- 
 tain Touchit appears to go on, during which] 
 
 Milliken. — Come and kiss your old father, Arabella. He's 
 hungry for kisses. 
 
 Arabella. — Don't. I want to go and look at the cab ; and 
 to tell Captain Touchit that he mustn't use naughty words. 
 \Ruiis towards garden. Page is seen carrying a carpet-bag?] 
 
 Enter Touchit through the open window smoking a cigar. 
 
 Touchit. — How d'ye do, Milliken ? How are tallows, 
 hey, my noble merchant ? I have brought my bag, and intend, 
 to sleep 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 621 
 
 George. — I say, godpapa 
 
 Touchit. — Well, godson ! 
 George. — Give us a cigar ! 
 Touchit. — Oh, you enfant terrible ! 
 
 Milliken [wheezily]. — Ah — ahem George Touchit ! 
 
 you wouldn't mind — a — smoking that cigar in the garden, would 
 you ? Ah — ah ! 
 
 Touchit. — Hullo ! What's in the wind now ? You used 
 to be a most inveterate smoker, Horace. 
 
 Milliken. — The fact is — my mother-in-law — Lady Kickle- 
 bury — doesn't like it, and while she's with us, you know 
 
 Touchit. — Of course, of course [throws away cigar], I beg 
 her ladyship's pardon. I remember when you were courting 
 her daughter she used not to mind it. 
 
 Milliken. — Don't — don't allude to those times. [He looks 
 up at his wife's picture^ 
 
 George. — My mamma was a Kicklebury. The Kickle- 
 burys are the oldest family in the world. My name is George 
 Kicklebury Milliken, of Pigeoncot, Hants ; the Grove, Rich- 
 mond, Surrey; and Portland Place, London, Esquire — my 
 name is. 
 
 Touchit. — You have forgotten Billiter Street, hemp and 
 tallow merchant. 
 
 George. — Oh, bother! I don't care about that. I shall 
 leave that when I'm a man : when I'm a man and come into 
 my property. 
 
 Milliken. — You come into your property ? 
 
 George. — I shall, you know, when you're dead, papa. I 
 shall have this house, and Pigeoncot; and the house in town 
 — no, I don't mind about the house in town — and I sha'n't let 
 Bella live with me — no, I won't. 
 
 Bella. — No J / won't live with you. And I'll have Pigeon- 
 cot. 
 
 George. — You sha'n't have Pigeoncot. I'll have it : and 
 the ponies : and I won't let you ride them — and the dogs, and 
 you sha'n't have even a puppy to play with — and the dairy — and 
 won't I have as much cream as I like — that's all ! 
 
 Touchit. — What a darling boy ! Your children are brought 
 up beautifully, Milliken. It's quite delightful to see them 
 together. 
 
 George. — And I shall sink the name of Milliken, I shall. 
 
 Milliken. — Sink the name ? why George ? 
 
 George. — Because the Millikens are nobodies — grand 
 mamma says they are nobodies. The Kickleburys are gentle- 
 men, and came over with William the Conqueror. 
 
622 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Bella. — I know when that was. One thousand one hun- 
 dred and one thousand one hundred and onety-one ! 
 
 George. — Bother when they came over ! But I know 
 this, when I come into the property I shall sink the name of 
 Milliken. 
 
 Milliken. — So you are ashamed of your father's name, are 
 you, George, my boy ? 
 
 George. — Ashamed ! No, I ain't ashamed. Only Kickle- 
 bury is sweller. I know it is. Grandmamma says so. 
 
 Bella. — My grandmamma does not say so. My dear 
 grandmamma says that family pride is sinful, and all belongs 
 to this wicked world ; and that in a very few years what our 
 names are will not matter. 
 
 George. — Yes, she says so because her father kept a shop ; 
 and so did Pa's father keep a sort of shop — only Pa's a gen- 
 tleman now. 
 
 Touchit. — Darling child ! How I wish I were married ! 
 If I had such a dear boy as you, George, do you know what 
 I would give him ? 
 
 George [quite pleased\ — What would you give him, god- 
 papa ? 
 
 Touchit. — I would give him as sound a flogging as ever 
 boy had, my darling. I would whip this nonsense out of him. 
 I would send him to school, where I would pray that he might 
 be well thrashed • and if when he came home he was still 
 ashamed of his father, I would put him apprentice to a chimney- 
 sweep — that's what I would do. 
 
 George. — I'm glad you're not my father, that s all. 
 
 Bella. — And I'm glad your not my father, because you are 
 a wicked man ! 
 
 Milliken. — Arabella ! 
 
 Bella. — Grandmamma says so. He is a worldly man, and 
 the world is wicked. And he goes to the play : and he smokes, 
 and he says 
 
 Touchit. — Bella, what do I say ? 
 
 Bella. — Oh, something dreadful ! You know you do ! I 
 heard you say it to the cabman. 
 
 Touchit. — So I did, so I did ! He asked me fifteen shil- 
 lings from Piccadilly, and I told him to go to — — to some- 
 body whose name begins with a D. 
 
 Children. — Here's another carriage passing. 
 
 Bella. — The Lady Rumble's carriage. 
 
 George. — No, it ain't : it's Captain Boxer's carriage [they 
 run into the garden]. 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 623 
 
 Touchit. — And this is the pass to which you have Drought 
 yourself, Horace Milliken ! Why, in your wife's time, it was 
 better than this, my poor fellow ! 
 
 Milltken. — Don't speak of her in that way, George 
 Touchit ! 
 
 Touchit. — What have I said ? I am only regretting her loss 
 for your sake. She tyrannized over you ; turned your friends 
 out of doors ; took your name out of your clubs ; dragged 
 you about from party to party, though you can no more dance 
 than a bear, and from opera to opera, though you don't know 
 " God Save the Queen " from " Rule Britannia." You don't, 
 sir; you know you don't. But Arabella was better than her 
 mother, who has taken possession of you since your widow- 
 hood. 
 
 Milliken. — My dear fellow ! no she hasn't. There's my 
 mother. 
 
 Touchit. — Yes, to be sure, there's Mrs. Bonnington, and 
 they quarrel over you like the two ladies over the baby before 
 King Solomon. 
 
 Milliken. — Play the satirist, my good friend ! laugh at my 
 weakness ! 
 
 Touchit. — I know you to be as plucky a fellow as ever 
 stepped, Milliken, when a man's in the case. I know you and 
 I stood up to each other for an hour and a half at Westmin- 
 ster. 
 
 Milliken. — Thank you ! We were both dragons of war ! 
 tremendous champions ! Perhaps I am a little soft as regards 
 women. I know my weakness well enough ; but in my case 
 what is my remedy ? Put yourself in my position. Be a 
 widower with two young children. What is more natural than 
 that the mother of my poor wife should come and superintend 
 my family ? My own mother can't. She has a half-dozen of 
 little half brothers and sisters, and a husband of her own to 
 attend to. I dare say Mr. Bonnington and my mothei will 
 come to dinner to-day. 
 
 Touchit. — Of course they will, my poor old Milliken, you 
 don't dare to dine without them. 
 
 Milliken. — Don't go on in that manner, George Touchit ! 
 Why should not my stepfather and my mother dine with me ? 
 I can afford it. I am a domestic man and like to see my re- 
 lations about me. I am in the City all day. 
 
 Touchit. — Luckily for you. 
 
 Milliken. — And my pleasure of an evening is to sit under 
 my own vine and under my own fig-tree with my own olive- 
 
624 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB 
 
 branches round about me ; to sit by my fire with my children 
 at my knees ; to coze over a snug bottle of claret after dinner 
 with a friend like you to share it ; to see the young folks at the 
 breakfast-table of a morning, and to kiss them and so off to 
 business with a cheerful heart. This was my scheme in mar- 
 rying, had it pleased heaven to prosper my plan. When I was 
 a boy and came from school and college, I used to see Mr. 
 Bonnington, my father-in-law, with his young ones clustering 
 round about him, so happy to be with him ! so eager to wait on 
 him ! all down on their little knees round my mother before 
 breakfast or jumping up on his after dinner. It was who 
 should reach his hat, and who should bring his coat, and who 
 should fetch his umbrella, and who should get the last kiss. 
 
 Touchit. — What? didn't he kiss you? Oh, the hard- 
 hearted old ogre ! 
 
 Milliken. — Don't, Touchit! Don't laugh at Mr. Bon- 
 nington ! He is as good a fellow as ever breathed. Between 
 you and me, as my half brothers and sisters increased and' 
 multiplied year after year, I used to feel rather lonely, 
 rather bowled out, you understand. But I saw them so happy 
 that I longed to have a home of my own. When my mother 
 proposed Arabella for me (for she and Lady Kicklebury were 
 immense friends at one time), I was glad enough to give up 
 clubs and bachelorhood, and to settle down as- a married man. 
 My mother acted for the best. My poor wife's character, my 
 mother used to say, changed after marriage. I was not as 
 happy as I hoped to be ; but I tried for it. George, I am not 
 so comfortable now as I might be. A house without a mistress, 
 with two mothers-in-law reigning over it — one worldly and aris- 
 tocratic, another what you call serious, though she don't mind 
 a rubber of whist ; I give you my honor my mother plays a game 
 at whist, and an uncommonly good game too — each woman 
 dragging over a child to her side • of course such a family can- 
 not be comfortable. [Bell rings.] There's the first dinner- 
 bell. Go and dress, for heaven's sake. 
 
 Touchit. — Why dress ? There is no company ! 
 
 Milliken. — Why ? ah ! her ladyship likes it, you see. And 
 it costs nothing to humor her. Quick, for she don't like to be 
 kept waiting. 
 
 Touchit. — Horace Milliken ! what a pity it is the law 
 declares a widower shall not marry his wife's mother ! She 
 nould marry you else, — she would, on my word. 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Enter John. 
 
 John. — I have took the Captain's things in the blue room, 
 sir. [Exeunt gentlemen, John arranges tables, cW.] 
 
 Ha ! Mrs. Prior ! I ain't partial to Mrs. Prior. I think 
 she's an artful old dodger, Mrs. Prior. I think there's mystery 
 in her unfathomable pockets, and schemes in the folds of her 
 umbrella. But — but she's Julia's mother, and for the beloved 
 one's sake I am civil to her. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Thank you, Charles [to the Page, who has 
 been seen to let her in at the garden-gate\ I am so much obliged to 
 you ! Good afternoon, Mr. Howell. Is my daughter — are the 
 darling children well ? Oh, I am quite tired and weary ! 
 Three horrid omnibuses were full, and I have had to walk the 
 whole weary long way. Ah, times are changed with me, Mr. 
 Howell. Once when I was young and strong, I had my hus- 
 band's carriage to ride in. 
 
 John [aside\ — PI is carriage ! his coal-wagon ! I know well 
 enough who old Prior was. A merchant ? yes a pretty mer- 
 chant ! kep' a lodging-house, share in a barge, touting for 
 orders, and at last a snug little place in the Gazette. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — How is your cough, Mr. Howell ? I have 
 brought you some lozenges for it [takes numberless articles from 
 her pocket\ and if you would take them of a night and morning 
 — oh, indeed, you would get better ! The late Sir Henry Hal-, 
 ford recommended them to Mr. Prior. He was his late Maj- 
 esty's physician and ours. You know we have seen happier 
 times, Mr. Howell. Oh, I am quite tired and faint. 
 
 John. — Will you take anything before the schoolroom tea, 
 ma'am ? You will stop to tea, I hope, with Miss Prior, and 
 our young folks ? 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Thank you : a little glass of wine when one 
 is so faint — a little crumb of biscuit when one is so old and 
 tired ! I have not been accustomed to want, you know ; and in 
 my poor dear Mr. Prior's time 
 
 John. — I'll fetch some wine, ma'am. [Exit to the dining- 
 room, .] 
 
 Mrs. Prior.— Bless the man, how abrupt he is in his manner ! 
 He quite shocks a poor lady who has been used to better days. 
 What's here ? Invitations — ho ! Bills for Lady Kicklebury ! 
 They are not paid. Where is Mr. M. going to dine, I wonder ? 
 Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson, Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, 
 request the pleasure. Request the pleasure ! Of course they 
 do. They are always asking Mr. M. to dinner. They have 
 
626 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB, 
 
 daughters to marry, and Mr. M. is a widower with three thou- 
 sand a year, every shilling of it. I must tell Lady Kicklebury. 
 He must never go to these places — never, never — mustn't be 
 allowed. [ While talking, she ope?is all the letters on the table, 
 rummages the portfolio and writing-box, looks at cards on mantel- 
 piece, work in work-basket tries tea-box and shows the greatest 
 activity and curiosity.'] 
 
 Re-enter John, bearing a tray with cakes, a decanter, &c. 
 
 Thank you, thank you, Mr. Howell ! Oh, oh, dear me, not so 
 much as that ! Half a glass, and one biscuit, please. What 
 elegant sherry ! [sips a little, and puts down glass on tray]. Do 
 you know, I remember in better days, Mr. Howell, when my 
 poor dear husband ? 
 
 John. — Beg your pardon. There's Milliken's bell going like 
 mad. [Exit John.] 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — What an abrupt person ! Oh, but it's com- 
 fortable, this wine is ! And — and I think how my poor Char- 
 lotte would like a little — she so weak, and ordered wine by the 
 medical man ! And when dear Adolphus comes home from 
 Christ's quite tired, poor boy, and hungry, wouldn't a bit of 
 nice cake do him good ! Adolphus is so fond of plum-cake, the 
 darling child ! And so is Frederick, little saucy rogue ; and 
 I'll give them my piece, and keep my glass of wine for my dear 
 delicate angel Shatty ! [Takes bottle and paper out of her pocket, 
 cuts off a great slice of cake, and pours wine fro?n wineglass 
 <i?id decanter into bottle.'] 
 
 Enter Page. 
 
 Page. — Master George and Miss Bella is going to have 
 their teas down here with Miss Prior, Mrs. Prior, and she's up 
 in the schoolroom, and my lady says you may stop to tea. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Thank you, Charles ! how tall you grow ! 
 Those trousers would fit my darling Frederick to a nicety. 
 Thank you, Charles. I know the way to the nursery. [Exit 
 Mrs. P.] 
 
 Page. — Know the way ! I believe she do know the way. 
 Been a having cake and wine. Howell always gives her cake 
 and wine — jolly cake, ain't it ! and wine, oh, my ! 
 
 Re-enter John. 
 
 John. — You young gormandizing cormorant ! What ! five 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 627 
 
 meals a day ain't enough for you. What ? beer ain't good 
 enough for you, hey ? \_Pulls boys ears.] 
 
 Page [crying]. — Oh, oh, do-o-n't, Mr. Howell. I only took 
 half a glass, upon my honor. 
 
 John. — Your a-honor, you lying young vagabond ! I wonder 
 the ground don't open and swallow you. Half a glass ! \_holds 
 up decanter.] You've took half a bottle, you young Ananias ! 
 Mark this, sir ! When I was a boy, a boy on my promotion, a 
 child kindly took in from charity-school, a horphan in buttons 
 like you, I never lied : no, nor never stole, and you've done 
 both, you little scoundrel. Don't tell me, sir ! there's plums on 
 your coat, crumbs on your cheek, and you smell sherry, sir ! I 
 ain't time to whop you now, but come to my pantry to-night 
 after you've took the tray down. Come zvithout your jacket on, 
 sir, and then I'll teach you what it is to lie and steal. There's 
 the outer-bell. Scud, you vagabond ! 
 
 Enter Lady K. 
 Lady K. — What was the noise, pray ? 
 
 John. — A difference between me and young Page, my lady. 
 I was instructing him to keep his hands from picking and steal- 
 ing. I was learning him his lesson, my lady, and he was 
 a-crying it out. 
 
 Lady K. — It seems to me you are most unkind to that boy, 
 Howell. He is my boy, sir. He comes from my estate. I will 
 not have him ill-used. I think you presume on your long services. 
 I will speak to my son-in-law about you. [" Yes, my lady ; no, 
 my lady ; very good, my lady. John has answered each sentence 
 as she is speaking, and exit gravely bowing^] That man must 
 quit the -house. Horace says he can't do without him, but he 
 must do without him. My poor dear Arabella was fond of him, 
 but he presumes on that defunct angel's partiality. Horace 
 says this person keeps all his accounts, sorts all his letters, 
 manages all his affairs, may be trusted with untold gold, and 
 rescued little George out of the fire. Now I have come to live 
 with my son-in-law, / will keep his accounts, sort his letters, 
 and take charge of his money : and if little Georgy gets into 
 the grate, / will take him out of the fire. What is here ? In- 
 vitation from Captain and Mrs. Hopkinson. Invitation from 
 Sir John and Lady Tomkinson, who don't even ask me! 
 Monstrous ! he never shall go— he shall not go ! [Mrs. Prior 
 has re-entered, she drops a very low curtsey to Lady K., as the 
 latter, perceiving her, lays the cards down.] 
 
628 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Ah, dear madam ! how kind your ladyship's 
 message was to the poor lonely widow-woman ! Oh* how 
 thoughtful it was of your ladyship to ask me to stay to tea ! 
 
 Lady K. — With your daughter and the children ? Indeed, 
 my good Mrs. Prior, you are very welcome ! 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Ah ! but isn't it a cause of thankfulness to 
 be made welcome ? Oughtn't I to be grateful for these bless- 
 ings ? — yes, I say blessings. And I am — I am, Lady Kickle- 
 bury — to the mother — of — that angel who is gone \poi?its to the 
 picture\ It was your sainted daughter left us — left my child to 
 the care of Mr. Milliken, and — and you, who are now his 
 guardian angel I may say. You are, Lady Kicklebury — you 
 are. I say to my girl, Julia, Lady Kicklebury is Mr. Milliken's 
 guardian angel, is your guardian angel — for without you could 
 she keep her place as governess to these darling children ? 
 It would tear her heart in two to leave them, and yet she would 
 be forced to do so. You know that some one — shall I hesitate 
 to say whom T meant — that Mr. Milliken's mother, excellent 
 lady though she is, does not love my child because you love 
 her. You do love her, Lady Kicklebury, and oh ! a mother's 
 fond heart pays you back ! But for you, my poor Julia must go 
 — go, and leave the children whom a dying angel confided to 
 her ! 
 
 Lady K. — O ! no, never ! not whilst I am in this house, 
 Mrs. Prior. Your daughter is a well-behaved young woman : 
 you have confided to me her long engagement to Lieutenant — 
 Lieutenant What-d'you-call'im, in the Indian service. She 
 has been very, very good to my grandchildren — she brought 
 them over from Naples when my — my angel of an Arabella 
 died there, and I will protect Miss Prior. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Bless you, bless you, noble, admirable woman ! 
 Don't take it away ! I must, I will kiss your dear, generous 
 hand ! Take a mother's, a widow's blessings, Lady Kicklebury 
 — the blessings of one who has known misfortune and seen 
 better days, and thanks heaven — yes, heaven ! — for the protec- 
 tors she has found ! 
 
 Lady K. — You said — you had — several children, I think, 
 my good Mrs. Prior ? 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Three boys — one, my eldest blessing, is in 
 a wine-merchant's office — ah, if Mr. Milliken would but give 
 him an order ! an order from this house ! an order from Lady 
 Kicklebury's son-in-law ! — 
 
 Lady K. — It shall be done, my good Prior — we will see. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Another, Adolphus, dear fellow ! is in Christ's 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 629 
 
 Hospital. It was dear, good Mr. Milliken's nomination. Fred- 
 erick is at Merchant Taylor's : my darling Julia pays his school- 
 ing. Besides, I have two girls — Amelia, quite a little toddles, 
 just the size, though not so beautiful — but in a mother's 
 eyes all children are lovely, dear Lady Kicklebury — just the 
 size of your dear granddaughter, whose clothes would fit her, 
 I am sure. And my second, Charlotte, a girl as tall as your 
 ladyship, though not with so fine a figure. " Ah, no, Shatty ! " 
 I say to her, "you are as tall as our dear patroness, Lady Kick- 
 lebury, whom you long so to see ; but you have not got her 
 ladyship's carriage and figure, child." Five children have I, 
 left fatherless and penniless by my poor dear husband — but 
 heaven takes care of the *vidow and orphan, madam — and 
 heaven's best creatures feed them ! — you know whom I mean. 
 
 Lady K. — Should you not like, would you object to take — 
 a frock or two of little Arabella's to your child ? and if Pin- 
 horn, my maid, will let me, Mrs. Prior, I will see if I cannot 
 find something against winter for your second daughter, as you 
 say we are of a size. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — The widow's and orphans' blessings upon 
 you ! I said my Charlotte was as tall, but I never said she 
 had such a figure as yours — who has ? 
 
 Charles announces — 
 
 Charles. — Mrs. Bonnington ! [Enter Mrs. Bonnington.] 
 
 Mrs. B. — How do you do, Lady Kicklebury ? 
 
 Lady K. — My dear Mrs. Bonnington ! and you come to 
 dinner of course ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — To dine with my own son, I may take the liberty. 
 How are my grandchildren ? my darling little Emily, is she 
 well, Mrs. Prior. 
 
 Lady K. [aside]. — Emily? why does she not call the child 
 by her blessed mother's name of Arabella ? [To Mrs. B.] 
 Arabella is quite well, Mrs. Bonnington. Mr. Squillings said 
 it was nothing ; only her grandmamma Bonnington spoiling her, 
 as usual. Mr. Bonnington and all your numerous young folk 
 are well, I hope ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — My family are all in perfect health, I thank you. 
 Is Horace come home from the City? 
 
 Lady K. — Goodness ! there's the dinner-bell, — I must run 
 to dress. 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Shall I come with you, dear Lady Kickle- 
 bury ? 
 
630 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Lady K. — Not for worlds, my good Mrs. Prior. [Exit 
 Lady K.] 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — How do you do, my dear madam ? Is dear 
 Mr. Bonnington quite well ? What a sweet, sweet sermon he 
 gave us last Sunday. I often say to my girl, I must not go to 
 hear Mr. Bonnington, I really must not, he makes me cry so. 
 Oh ! he is a great and gifted man, and shall I not have one 
 glimpse of him ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — Saturday evening, my good Mrs. Prior. Don't 
 you know that my husband never goes out on Saturday, having 
 his sermon to compose ? 
 
 Mrs. P. — Oh, those dear, dear sermons ! Do you know, 
 madam, that my little Adolphus, for whom your son's bounty 
 procured his place at Christ's Hospital, was very much touched 
 indeed, the dear child, with Mr. Bonnington's discourse last 
 Sunday three weeks, and refused to play marbles afterwards at 
 school ? The wicked, naughty boys beat the poor child ; but 
 Adolphus has his consolation ! Is Master Edward well, ma'am, 
 and Master Robert, and Master Frederick, and dear little funny 
 Master William ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — Thank you, Mrs. Prior ; you have a good heart, 
 indeed ! 
 
 Mrs. P. — Ah, what blessings those dears are to you ! I 
 wish your dearest little grandson 
 
 Mrs. B. — The little naughty wretch ! Do you know, Mrs. 
 Prior, my grandson, George Milliken, spilt the ink over my 
 dear husband's bands, which he keeps in his great dictionary ; 
 and fought with my child, Frederick, who is three years older 
 than George — actually beat his own uncle ! 
 
 Mrs. P. — Gracious mercy ! Master Frederick was not hurt, 
 I hope ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — No ; he cried a great deal ; and then Robert came 
 up, and that graceless little George took a stick ; and then my 
 husband came out, and do you know George Milliken actually 
 kicked Mr. Bonnington on his shins, and butted him like a 
 little naughty ram ? 
 
 Mrs. P. — Mercy ! mercy ! what a little rebel ! He is 
 spoiled, dear madam, and you know by whom. 
 
 Mrs. B. — By his grandmamma Kicklebury. I know it. I 
 want my son .to whip that child, but he refuses. He will come 
 to no good, that child. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Ah, madam ! don't say so ! Let us hope for the 
 best. Master George's high temper will subside when certain 
 persons who pet him are gone away. 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE I AMB. 
 
 63 1 
 
 Mrs. B. — Gone away ! they never will go away ! No, mark 
 my words, Mrs. Prior, |hat woman will never go away. She 
 has made the house her own : she commands everything and 
 everybody in it. She has driven me — me — Mr. Milliken's own 
 mother — almost out of it. She has so annoyed my dear hus- 
 band, that Mr. Bonnington will scarcely come here. Is she 
 not always sneering at private tutors, because Mr. Bonnington 
 was my son's private tutor, and greatly valued by the late Mr. 
 Milliken ? Is she not making constant allusions to old women 
 marrying young men, because Mr. Bonnington happens to be 
 younger than me ? I have no words to express my indignation 
 respecting Lady Kicklebury. She never pays any one, and 
 runs up debts in the whole town. Herman Bulkeley's conduct 
 in the neighborhood is quite — quite 
 
 Mrs. B. — Gracious goodness, ma'am, you don't, say so ! 
 And then what an appetite the gormandizing monster has ! 
 Mary tells me that what he eats in the servants' hall is some- 
 thing perfectly frightful. 
 
 Mrs. B. — Everybody feeds on my poor son ! You are 
 looking at my cap, Mrs. Prior ? [During this time Mrs. Prior 
 has been peering into a parcel which Mrs. Bonnington brought in 
 her hana 7 .] I brought it with me across the Park. I could not 
 walk through the Park in my cap. Isn't it a pretty ribbon, 
 Mrs. Prior? 
 
 Mrs. P. — Beautiful ! beautiful ! How blue becomes you I 
 Who would think you were the' mother of Mr. Milliken and 
 seven other darling children ? You can afford what Lady 
 Kicklebury cannot. 
 
 Mrs. B. — And what is that, Prior ? A poor clergyman's 
 wife, with a large family, cannot afford much. 
 
 Mrs. P. — He ! he ! You can afford to be. seen as you are, 
 which Lady K. cannot. Did you not remark how afraid she 
 seemed lest I should enter her dressing-room ? Only Pinhorn, 
 her maid, goes there, to arrange the roses, and the lilies, and 
 the figure — he ! he ! Oh, what a sweet, sweet cap -ribbon ! When 
 you have worn it, and are tired of it, you will give it me, won't 
 you? It will be good enough for poor old Martha Prior ! 
 
 Mrs. B. — Do you really like it ? Call at Greenwood Place, 
 Mrs. Prior, the next time you pay Richmond a visit, and bring 
 your little girl with you, and we will see. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Oh, thank you ! thank you ! Nay, don't be of- 
 fended ! I must ! I must ! [Kisses Mrs. Bonnington.] 
 
 Mrs. B. — There, there ! We must not stay chattering ! 
 The bell has rung. I must go and put the cap on, Mrs. Prior. 
 
632 
 
 THE WOLVES A'ND THE LAMB 
 
 Mrs. P. — And I may come, too ? You are not afraid of 
 my seeing your hair, dear Mrs. Bonnington ! Mr. Bonnington 
 too young for you / Why, you don't look twenty ! 
 
 Mrs. B. — Oh, Mrs. Prior ! 
 
 Mrs. P. — Well, flve-and-twenty, upon my word — not more 
 than flve-and-twenty — and that is the very prime of life ! [Ex- 
 eunt Mrs. B. and Mrs. P. hand in hand. ■ As Captain Touchit 
 enters dressed for dinner, he bows and passes on.~\ 
 
 Touchit. — So, we are to wear our white cravats, and our 
 varnished boots, and dine in ceremony. What is the use of a 
 man being a widower, if he can't dine in his shooting-jacket ? 
 Poor Mill ! He has the slavery now without the wife. [He 
 speaks sarcastically to the picture?^ Well, well ! Mrs. Milliken ! 
 You, at any rate, are gone ; and, with the utmost respect for 
 you, I like your picture even better than the original. Miss 
 Prior ! 
 
 Enter Miss Prior. 
 
 Miss Prior. — I beg pardon. I thought you were gone to 
 dinner. I heard the second bell some time since. [She is 
 drawing bach.] 
 
 Touchit. — Stop ! I say, Julia ! [She returns, he looks at her, 
 takes her hand.] Why do you dress yourself in this odd poky 
 way ? You used to be a vejry smartly dressed girl. Why do 
 you hide your hair, and wear such a dowdy, high gown, Julia ? 
 
 Julia. — You mustn't call me Julia, Captain Touchit. 
 
 Touchit. — Why ? when I lived in your mother's lodging, I 
 called you Julia. When you brought up the tea, you didn't 
 mind being called Julia. When we used to go to the play with 
 the tickets the* Editor gave us, who lived on the second 
 floor 
 
 Julia. — The wretch ! — don't speak of him ! 
 
 Touchit. — Ah ! I am afraid he was a sad deceiver, that 
 Editor. He was a very clever fellow. What droll songs he 
 used to sing ! What a heap of play-tickets, diorama-tickets, 
 concert-tickets, he used to give you ! Did he touch your heart, 
 Julia ? 
 
 Julia. — Fiddlededee ! No man ever touched my heart, 
 Captain Touchit. 
 
 Touchit. — What ! not even Tom Flight, who had the 
 second floor after the Editor left it — and who cried so bitterly 
 at the idea of going out to India without you ? You had a 
 tendre for him — a little passion — you know you had. Why, 
 
THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 6 33 
 
 even the ladies here know it. Mrs. Bonnington told me that 
 you were waiting for a sweetheart in India, to whom you were 
 engaged ; and Lady Kicklebury thinks you are dying in love 
 for the absent swain. 
 
 Julia. — I hope — I hope — you did not contradict them, Cap- 
 tain Touchit. 
 
 Touchit. — Why not, my dear ? 
 
 Julia. — May I be frank with you ? You were a kind, very 
 kind friend to us — to me, in my youth. 
 
 'Touchit. — I paid my lodgings regularly, and my bills with- 
 out asking questions. I never weighed the tea in the caddy, or 
 counted the lumps of sugar, or heeded the rapid consumption 
 of my liqueur 
 
 Julia. — Hush, hush ! I know they were taken. I know 
 you were very good to us. You helped my poor papa out of 
 many a difficulty. 
 
 Touchit [aside]. — Tipsy old coal merchant ! I did, and he 
 helped himself too. 
 
 Julia. — And you were always our best friend, Captain 
 Touchit. When our misfortunes came, you got me this situa- 
 tion with Mrs. Milliken — and, and — don't you see ? 
 
 Touchit — Well — what ? 
 
 Julia [laughing]. — I think it is best, under the circum- 
 stances, that the ladies here should suppose I am engaged to 
 be married — or — or, they might be — might be jealous, you un- 
 derstand. Women are sometimes jealous of others. — especially 
 mothers and mothers-in-law. 
 
 Touchit. — Oh, you arch-schemer ! And it is for that you 
 cover up that beautiful hair of yours, and wear that demure 
 cap ? 
 
 Julia [slyly], — I am subject to rheumatism in the head, 
 Captain Touchit. 
 
 Touchit. — It is for that you put on the spectacles, and 
 make yourself look a hundred years old ? 
 
 Julia. — My eyes are weak, Captain Touchit. 
 
 Touchit. — Weak with weeping for Tom Flight. You hypo- 
 crite ! Show me your eyes ? 
 
 Miss P. — Nonsense ! 
 
 Touchit. — Show me your eyes, I say, or I'll tell about Tom 
 Flight, and that he has been married at Madras these two 
 years, 
 
 Miss P. — Oh, you horrid man ! [takes glasses off.] There. 
 Touchit. — Translucent orbs ! beams of flashing light ! 
 lovely lashes veiling celestial brightness ! No, they haven't 
 
634 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 cried much for Tom Flight, that faithless captain ! nor for Law- 
 rence O'Reilly, that killing Editor. It is lucky you keep the 
 glasses on them, or they would transfix Horace Milliken, my 
 friend the widower here. Do you always wear them when you 
 are alone with him ? 
 
 Miss P. — I never am alone with him. Bless me ! If Lady 
 Kicklebury thought my eyes were — well, well — you know what 
 I mean, — if she thought her son-in-law looked at me, I should 
 be turned out of doors the next day, I am sure I should. And 
 then, poor Mr. Milliken ! he never looks at me — heaven Kelp 
 him ! Why, he can't see me for her ladyship's nose .and awful 
 caps and ribbons ! He sits and looks at the portrait yonder, 
 and sighs so. He thinks that he is lost in grief for his wife at 
 this very moment. 
 
 Touchit. — What a woman that was — eh, Julia — that de- 
 parted angel ! What a temper she had before her departure ! 
 
 Miss P. — But the wind was tempered to the lamb. If she 
 was angry — the lamb was so very lamblike, and meek, and 
 fleecy. 
 
 Touchit. — And what a desperate flirt the departed angel 
 was ! I knew half a dozen fellows, before her marriage, whom 
 she threw over, because Milliken was so rich. 
 
 Miss P. — She was consistent at least, and did not change 
 after marriage, as some ladies do ; but flirted, as you call it, 
 just as much as before. At Paris, young Mr. Verney, the at- 
 tache, was never out of the house : at Rome, Mr. Beard, the 
 artist, was always drawing pictures of her : at Naples, when 
 poor Mr. M. went away to look after his affairs at St. Peters- 
 burg, little Count Posilippo was forever coming to learn 
 English and practise duets. She scarcely ever saw the poor 
 children — [changing her tnemmr as Lady Kicklebury enters] 
 Hush — my lady ! 
 
 Touchit. — You may well say, " poor children," deprived 
 of such a woman ! Miss Prior, whom I knew in very early 
 days — as your ladyship knows — was speaking — was speaking 
 of the loss our poor friend sustained. 
 
 Lady K. — Ah, sir, what a loss ! [looking at the picture?^ 
 
 Touchit. — What a woman she was — what a superior crea- 
 ture ! 
 
 Lady K. — A creature— an angel ! 
 
 Touchit. — Mercy upon us ! how she and my lady used to 
 quarrel ! [aside.] What a temper ! 
 
 Lady K. — Hm — oh, yes — what a temper [rather doubtfully 
 at first]. 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 635 
 
 Touchit. — What a loss to Milliken and the darling 
 children ! 
 
 Miss Prior. — Luckily they have you with them, madam. 
 
 Lady K. — And I will stay with theth, Miss Prior ; I will 
 stay with them ! I will never part from Horace, I am de- 
 termined. 
 
 Miss P. — Ah ! I am very glad you stay, for if I had not you 
 for a protector I think you know I must go, Lady Kicklebury. I 
 think you know there are those who would forget my attach- 
 ment to these darling children, my services to — to her — and 
 dismiss the poor governess. But while you stay I can stay, 
 dear Lady Kicklebury ! With you to defend me from jealousy 
 I need not quite be afraid. 
 
 Lady K. — Of Mrs. Bonnington ? Of Mr. Milliken's mother ; 
 of the parson's wife who writes out his stupid sermons, and has 
 half a dozen children of her own ? I should think not indeed ! 
 I am the natural protector of these children. / am their 
 mother, /have no husband! You stay in this house, Miss 
 Prior. You are a faithful, attached creature — though you were 
 sent in by somebody I don't like very much [pointing to 
 Touchit, who went off laughing when Julia began her speech, 
 a?id is now looking at prints, &>c., in the next rooni\. 
 
 Miss P. — Captain Touchit may not be in all things what 
 one could wish. But his kindness has formed the happiness of 
 my life in making me acquainted with you, ma'am : and I am 
 sure you would not have me be ungrateful to him. 
 
 Lady K. — A most highly principled young woman [Goes oict 
 ih garden and walks up and down with Captain Touchit.] 
 
 Enter Mrs. Bonnington. 
 
 Miss P. — Oh. how glad I am you are come, Mrs. Bonning- 
 ton. Have you brought me that pretty hymn you promised me ? 
 You always keep your promises, even to poor governesses. I 
 read dear Mr. Bonnington's sermon ! It was so interesting that 
 1 really could not think of going to sleep until I had read it all 
 through ; it was delightful, but oh ! it's still better when he 
 preaches it ! I hope I did not do wrong in copying a part of it ? 
 1 wish to impress it on the children. There are some worldly 
 niriuences at work with them, dear madam [looking at Lady 
 K. in the garden], which I do my feeble effort to — to modify. 
 I wish you could come oftener. 
 
 Mrs. B. — I will try, my dear — I will try. Emily has sweet 
 dispositions. 41 
 
6 3 6 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Ah, she takes after her grandmamma Bonning- 
 ton ! 
 
 Mrs. B. — But George was sadly fractious just now in the 
 schoolroom because I*tried him with a tract. 
 
 Miss P. — Let us hope for better times ! Do be with your 
 children, dear Mrs. Bonnington, as constantly as ever you can, 
 for my sake as well as theirs ! /want protection and advice as 
 well as they do. The governess, dear lady, looks up to you as 
 well as the pupils ; she wants the teaching which you and dear 
 Mr. Bonnington can give her ! Ah, why could not Mr. and 
 Mrs. Bonnington come and live here, I often think ? The 
 childrea would have companions in their dear young .uncles 
 and aunts ; so pleasant it would be. The house is quite large 
 enough ; that is, if her ladyship did not occupy the three south 
 rooms in the left wing. Ah, why, why couldn't you come ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — You are a kind, affectionate creature, Miss Prior. 
 I do not very much like the gentleman who recommended you 
 to Arabella, you know. But I do think he sent my son a good 
 governess for his children. 
 
 Two Ladies walk up and down in front garden. 
 Touch it enters. 
 
 Touchit. — Miss Julia Prior, you are a wonder ! I watch 
 you with respect and surprise. 
 
 Miss P. — Me ! what have I done ? a poor friendless gover- 
 ness — respect me 2 
 
 Touchit. — I have a mind to tell those two ladies what I 
 think of Miss Julia Prior. If they knew you as I know you, O 
 Julia Prior, what a short reign yours would be ! 
 
 Miss P. — I have to manage them a little. Each separately 
 it is not so difficult. But when they are together, oh, it is very 
 hard sometimes. 
 
 Enter Milliken dressed, shakes hands with Miss P. 
 
 Milliken. — Miss Prior ! are you well ? Have the children 
 been good ? and learned all their lessons ? 
 
 Miss P. — The children are pretty good, sir. 
 
 Milliken. — Well, that's a great deal as times go. Do not 
 bother them with too much learning, Miss Prior. Let then] 
 have an easy life. Time enough for trouble when age comes. 
 
 Enter John. 
 John. — Dinner, sir. \_And exit.] 
 
THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB 
 
 637 
 
 Milliken. — Dinner, ladies. My Lady Kicklebury {gives 
 arm to Lady K). 
 
 Lady K. — My dear Horace, you shouldn't shake hands with 
 Miss Prior. You should keep people of that class at a dis- 
 tance, my dear creature. [They go in to dinner, Captain Tou- 
 chit following with Mrs. Bonnington. As they go out, enter 
 Mary with children's tea-tray, &r>e., children following, and after 
 them Mrs. Prior. Mary gives her tea.] 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Thank you, Mary ! You are so very kind ! 
 Oh, what delicious tea ! 
 
 Georgy. — I say, Mrs. Prior, I dare say you would like to 
 dine best, wouldn't you ? 
 
 Mrs. P. — Bless you, my darling love, I had my dinner at 
 one o'clock with my children at home. 
 
 Geo'rgy. — So had we : but we go in to dessert very often ; 
 and then don't w r e have cakes and oranges and candied-peel 
 and macaroons and things ! We are not to go in to-day ; be- 
 cause Bella ate so many strawberries she made herself ill. 
 
 Bella. — So did you. 
 
 Georgy. — I'm a man, and men eat more than women, twice 
 as much as women. When I'm a man I'll eat as much cake as 
 ever I like. I say, Mary, give us the marmalade. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Oh, what nice marmalade ! / know of some 
 poor children 
 
 Miss P. — Mamma ! don't mamma [in an imploring tone]. 
 
 Mrs. P. — I know of two poor children at home, w r ho have 
 very seldom nice marmalade and cake, young people. 
 
 George. — You mean Adolphus and Frederick and Amelia, 
 your children. Well, they shall have marmalade and cake. 
 
 Bella. — Oh, yes ! I'll give them mine. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Darling, dearest child ! 
 
 George ( his mouth full). — I wont give 'em mine : but they 
 can have another pot, you know. You have always got a 
 basket with you, Mr. Prior. I know you have. You had it that 
 day you took the cold fowl. 
 
 Mrs. P. — For the poor blind black man ! oh, how thankful 
 he was ! 
 
 George. — I don't know whether it was for a black man. 
 Mary, get us another pot of marmalade. 
 Mary. — I don't know, Master George. 
 
 George. — I will have another pot of marmalade. If you 
 don't, I'll — I'll smash everything — I will. 
 Bella. — Oh, you naughty, rude boy ! 
 
 George. — Hold your tongue ! I will have it. Mary shall go 
 and get it. 
 
6 3 8 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Do humor him, Mary ; and I'm sure my poor 
 children at home will be the better for it. 
 
 George. — There's your basket ! now put this cake in, and 
 this pat of butter, and this sugar. Hurray, hurray ! Oh, what 
 jolly fun ! Tell Adolphus and Amelia I sent it to them — tell 'em 
 they shall never want for anything as long as George Kickle- 
 bury Milliken, Esq., can give it 'em. Did Adolphus like my 
 gray coat that I didn't want ? 
 
 Miss P. — You did not give him your new gray coat ? 
 
 George. — Don't you speak to me ; I'm going to school — 
 I'm not going to have no more governesses soon. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Oh, my dear Master George, what a nice coat it 
 is, and how-well my poor boy looked in it ! 
 
 Miss P. — Don't, mamma ! I pray and entreat you not to 
 take the things ! 
 
 E?iter John from dining-room with a tray. 
 
 John. — Some cream, some jelly, a little champagne, Miss 
 Prior ; I thought you might like some. 
 
 George. — Oh, jolly ! give us hold of the jelly ! give us a 
 glass of champagne. 
 
 John. — I will not give you any. 
 
 George. — I'll smash every glass in the room if you don't ; 
 I'll cut my fingers ; I'll poison myself — there ! I'll eat all this 
 sealing-wax if you don't, and it's rank poison, you know it is. 
 
 Mrs. P. — My dear Master George ! \_Exit John.] 
 
 George. — Ha, ha ! I knew you'd give it me ; another boy 
 taught me that. 
 
 Bella. — And a very naughty, rude boy. 
 
 George. — He, he, he ! hold your tongue, Miss ! And said 
 he always got wine so ; and so I used to do it to my poor mam- 
 ma, Miss Prior. Usedn't to like mamma much. 
 
 Bella. — Oh, you wicked boy ! 
 
 George. — She usedn't to see us much. She used to say I 
 tired her nerves : what's nerves, Miss Prior ? Give us some 
 more champagne ! Will have it. Ha, ha, ha ! ain't it jolly ? 
 Now I'll go out and have a run in the garden. [Runs into 
 garden~\. 
 
 Mrs. P. — And you, my dear ? 
 
 Bella. — I shall go and resume the perusal of the " Pilgrim's 
 Progress," which my grandpapa, Mr. Bonnington, sent me. 
 [Exit Arabella ] 
 
 Miss P.^— How those children are spoilt ! Goodness, what 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 639 
 
 can I do ? If I correct one, he flies to grandmamma Kicklebury jj 
 if I speak to another, she appeals to grandmamma Bonnington. 
 When I was alone with them, I had them in something like 
 order. Now, between the one grandmother and the other, the 
 children are going to ruin, and so would the house too, but that 
 Howell — that odd, rude, but honest and intelligent creature, I 
 must say — keeps it up. It is wonderful how a person in his 
 rank of life should have instructed himself so. He really 
 knows — I really think he knows more than I do myself. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Julia dear ! 
 
 Miss P. — What is it, mamma ? 
 
 Mrs. P. — Your little sister wants some underclothing sadly, 
 Julia dear, and poor Adolphus's shoes are quite worn out. 
 
 Miss P. — I thought so ; I have given you all I could, 
 mamma. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Yes, my love ! you are a good love, and gener- 
 ous, heaven knows, to your poor old mother who has seen bet- 
 ter days. If we had not wanted, would I have ever allowed you 
 to be a governess — a poor degraded governess ? If that brute 
 O'Reilly who lived on our second floor had not behaved so 
 shamefully wicked to you, and married Miss Flack, the singer, 
 might you not have been Editress of the- Champion of Liberty 
 at this very moment, and had your Opera box every night ? 
 [She drinks champagne while talking, and excites herself \. 
 
 Miss P. — Don't take that, mamma. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Don't take it ? why, it costs nothing ; Milliken 
 can afford it. Do you suppose I get champagne every day ? I 
 might have had it as a girl when I first married your father, 
 and we kep' our gig and horse, and lived at Clapham, and had 
 the best of everything. But the coal trade is not what it was, 
 Julia, and we met with misfortunes, Julia, and we went into 
 poverty : and your poor father went into the Bench for twenty- 
 three months — two year all but a month he did — and my 
 poor girl was obliged to dance at the " Coburg Theatre " — 
 yes, you were, at ten shillings a week, in the Oriental ballet of 
 " The Bulbul and the Rose : " you were, my poor darling child. 
 
 Miss P. — Hush, hush, mamma ! 
 
 Mrs. P. — And we kep' a lodging-house in Bury Street, St. 
 James's, which your father's brother furnished for us, who was 
 an extensive oil merchant. He brought you up ; and afterwards 
 he quarrelled with my poor James, Robert Prior did, and he 
 died, not leaving us a shilling. And my dear eldest boy went 
 into a wine-merchant's office : and my poor darling Julia became 
 a governess, when you had had the best of education at Clap- 
 
640 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 ham ; you had, Julia. And to think that you were obliged, my 
 blessed thing, to go on in the Oriental ballet of " The Rose 
 
 and the Bui " 
 
 Miss P. — Mamma, hush, hush ! forget that story. 
 
 Enter Page from dining-room. 
 
 Page. — Miss Prior ! please, the ladies are coming from the 
 dining-room. Mrs. B. have had her two glasses of port, and 
 her ladyship is now a-tellingthe story about the Prince of Wales 
 when she danced with him at Carlton House. [Exit Page.] 
 
 Miss P. — Quick, quick ! There, take your basket ! Put on 
 your bonnet, and good-night, mamma. Here, here is a half- 
 sovereign and three shillings ; it is all the money I have in the 
 world ; take it, and buy the shoes for Adolphus. 
 
 Mrs. P. — And the underclothing, my love — little Amelia's 
 underclothing ? 
 
 Miss P. — We will see about it. Good-night [kisses her]. 
 Don't be seen here, — Lady K. doesn't like it. 
 
 E?iter Gentlemen and Ladies from dining-room. 
 
 Lady K. — We follow the Continental fashion. We don't 
 sit after dinner, Captain Touchit. 
 
 Captain T. — Confound the Continental fashion ! I like to 
 sit a little while after dinner [aside]. 
 
 Mrs. B. — So does my dear Mr. Bonnington, Captain Touch- 
 it. He likes a little port-wine after dinner. 
 
 Touchit. — I'm not surprised at it, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. B. — When did you say your son was coming, Lady 
 Kicklebury ? 
 
 Lady K. — My Clarence ! He will be here immediately, I 
 hope, the dear boy. You know my Clarence ? 
 Touchit. — Yes, ma'am. 
 
 Lady K. — And like him, I'm sure, Captain Touchit ! Every- 
 body does like Clarence Kicklebury. 
 
 Touchit.— The confounded young scamp ! I say, Horace, 
 do you like your brother-in-law ? 
 
 Milliken. — Well — I — I can't say — I — like him — in fact, I 
 don't. But that's no reason why his mother shouldn't. [During 
 this, Howell preceded by Bulkeley, hands round coffee. The 
 garden without has darkened, as of evening. Bulkeley is going 
 away without offeriiig coffee to Miss Prior. John stamps on his 
 foot, and points to her. Captain Touchit laughing, goes up and 
 talks to her now the servants are gone.] 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 641 
 
 Mrs. B. — Horace ! I must tell you that the waste at your 
 table is shocking. What is the need of opening all this wine ? 
 You and Lady Kicklebury were the only persons who took 
 champagne. 
 
 Touchit. — I never drink it — never touch the rubbish ! Too 
 old a stager ! 
 
 Lady K. — Port, I think, is your favorite, Mrs. Bonnington ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — My dear lady, I do not mean that you should not 
 have champagne, if you like. Pray, pray, don't be angry ! But 
 why on earth, for you, who take so little, and Horace, who only 
 drinks it to keep you company, should not Howell open a pint 
 instead of a great large bottle ? 
 
 Lady K. — Oh, Howell ! Howell ! We must not mention 
 Howell, my dear Mrs. Bonnington. Howell is faultless. Howell 
 has the keys of everything ! Howell is not to be controlled in 
 anything ! Howell is to be at liberty to be rude to my servant ! 
 
 Milliken. — Is that all ? I am sure I should have thought 
 your man was big enough to resent any rudeness from poor little 
 Howell. 
 
 Lady K. — Horace ! Excuse me for saying that you don't 
 know — the — the class of servant to whom Bulkeley belongs. I 
 had him, as a great favor, from Lord Toddleby. That class of 
 servant is accustomed generally not to go out single. 
 
 Milliken. — Unless they are two behind a carriage-perch 
 they pine away, as one love-bird does without his mate ! 
 
 Lady K. — No doubt ! no doubt ! I only say you are not 
 accustomed here — in this kind of establishment, you understand 
 — to that class of 
 
 Mrs. B. — Lady Kicklebury! is my son's establishment not 
 good enough for any powdered monster in England ? - Is the 
 house of a British merchant ? 
 
 Lady K. — My dear creature ! my dear creature ! it is the 
 house of a British merchant, and a very comfortable house. 
 
 Mrs. B. — Yes, as you find it. 
 
 Lady K. — Yes, as I find it, when I come to take care of 
 my departed angel's children, Mrs. Bonnington — [ pointing to 
 picture] — of that dear seraph's orphans, Mrs. Bonnington. You 
 cannot. You have other duties — other children — a husband 
 at home in delicate health, who 
 
 Mrs. B. — Lady Kicklebury, no one shall say I don't take 
 care of my dear husband ! 
 
 Milliken. — My dear mother ! My dear Lady Kicklebury ! 
 [To T., 7vho has come forward.'] They spar so every night they 
 meet, Touchit. Ain't it hard ? 
 
642 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Lady K. — I say you do take care of Mr. Bonnington, Mrs. 
 Bonnington, my dear creature ! and that is why you can't attend 
 to Horace. And as he is of a very easy temper — except some- 
 times with his poor Arabella's mother— he allows all his trades- 
 men to cheat him, all his servants to cheat him, Howell to be 
 rude to everybody — to me amongst other people, and why not 
 to my servant Bulkeley, with whom Lord Toddleby's groom of 
 the chambers gave me the very highest character. 
 
 Mrs. B. — I'm surprised that noblemen have grooms in their 
 chambers. I should think they were much better in the stables. 
 I, am sure I always think so when we dine with Doctor Clinker. 
 His man does bring such a smell of the stable with him. 
 
 Lady K. — He ! he ! you mistake, my dearest creature ! 
 Your poor mother mistakes, my good Horace. You have lived 
 in a quiet and most respectable sphere — but not — not 
 
 Mrs. B. — Not what, Lacly Kicklebury ? We have lived at 
 Richmond twenty years — in my late husband's time — when we 
 saw a great deal of company, and when this dear Horace was 
 a dear boy at Westminster School. And we have paid for 
 everything we have had for twenty years, and we have owed 
 not a penny to any tradesman, though we mayn't have had 
 powdered footmen six feet high, who were impertinent to all the 
 maids in the place Don't ! I will speak, Horace — but ser- 
 vants who loved us, and who lived in our families. 
 
 Milliken. — Mamma, now, my dear, good old mother ! I 
 am sure Lady Kicklebury meant no harm. 
 
 Lady K. — Me ! my dear Horace ! harm ! What harm 
 could I mean ? 
 
 Milliken. — Come ! let us have a game at whist. Touchit, 
 will you make a fourth ? They go on so every night almost. 
 Ain't it a pity, now ? 
 
 Touchit. — Miss Prior generally plays, doesn't she ? 
 
 Milliken. — And a very good player, too. But I thought 
 you might like it. 
 
 Touchit. — Well, not exactly. I don't like sixpenny points, 
 Horace, or quarrelling with old dragons about the odd trick. 
 I will go and smoke a cigar on the terrace, and contemplate 
 the silver Thames, the ^darkling woods, the starry hosts of 
 heaven. I — I like smoking better than playing whist. [Mil- 
 liken rings bell.'] 
 
 Milliken. — Ah, George ! you're not fit for domestic fe- 
 licity. 
 
 Touchit. — No, not exactly. 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 643 
 
 Howell enters. 
 
 Milliken. — Lights and a whist-table. Oh, I see you bring 
 'em. ■ You know everything I want. He knows everything I 
 want, Howell does. Let us cut. Miss Prior, you and I are 
 partners ! 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 Scene. — As before. 
 
 Lady K. — Don't smoke, you naughty boy. I don't like it. 
 Besides it will encourage your brother-in-law to smoke. 
 
 Clarence K. — Anything to oblige you, I'm sure. But 
 can't do without it, mother ; it's good for my health. When I 
 was in the Plungers, our doctor used to say, " You ought never 
 to smoke more than eight cigars a day " — an order, you know, 
 to do it — don't you see ? 
 
 Lady K. — Ah, my child ! I am very glad you are not with 
 those unfortunate people in the East. 
 
 K. — So am I. Sold out just in time. Much better fun 
 being here, than having the cholera at Scutari. Nice house, 
 Milliken's. Snob, but good fellow — good cellar, doosid good 
 cook. Really that salmi yesterday, — couldn't have it better 
 done at the " Rag " now. You have got into good quarters 
 here, mother. 
 
 u. Lady K. — The meals are very good, and the house is very 
 good ; the manners are not of the first order. But what can 
 you expect of city people ? I always told your poor dear sister, 
 when she married Mr. Milliken, that she might look for every- 
 thing substantial, — but not manners. Poor dear Arabella 
 would marry him. 
 
 K. — Would ! that is a good one, mamma ! Why, you made 
 her ! It's a dozen years ago. But I recollect, when I came 
 home from Eton, seeing her crying because Charley Tufton 
 
 Lady K. — Mr. Tufton had not a shilling to bless himself 
 with. The marriage was absurd and impossible. 
 
 K. — He hadn't a shilling then. I guess he has plenty now. 
 Elder brother killed, out hunting. Father dead. Tuf a baro- 
 net, with four thousand a year if he's a shilling. 
 
644 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Lady K. — Not so much. 
 
 K. — Four thousand if it's a shilling. Why, the property 
 adjoins Kicklebury's — I ought to know. I've shot over it a 
 thousand times. Heh ! / remember, when I was quite a young 
 'un, how Arabella used to go out into Tufton Park to meet 
 Charley — and he is a doosid good fellow, and a gentlemanlike 
 fellow, and a doosid deal better than this city fellow. 
 
 Lady K. — If you don't like this city fellow, Clarence, why 
 do you come here ? why didn't you stop with your elder brother 
 at Kicklebury? 
 
 K. — Why didn't I ? Why didn't you stop at Kicklebury, 
 mamma ? Because you had notice to quit. Serious daughter- 
 in-law, quarrels about management of the house — row in the 
 building. My brother interferes, and politely requests mamma 
 to shorten her visit. So it is with your other two daughters ; 
 so it was with Arabella when she was alive. What shindies 
 you used to have with her, Lady Kicklebury ! Heh ! I had a 
 row with my brother and sister about a confounded little 
 nursery-maid. 
 
 Lady K. — Clarence ! 
 
 K. — And so I had notice to quit too. And I'm in very 
 good quarters here, and I intend to stay in 'em, mamma. I 
 say 
 
 Lady K. — What do you say. 
 
 K. — Since I sold out, you know, and the regiment went 
 abroad, confound me, the brutes at the " Rag " will hardly 
 speak to me ! I was so ill I couldn't go. Who the dobse can 
 live the life I've led and keep health enough for that infernal 
 Crimea ? Besides, how could I help it ? I was so cursedly in 
 debt that I was obliged to have the money, you know. You 
 hadn't got any. 
 
 Lady K. — Not a halfpenny, my darling. I am dreadfully 
 in debt myself. 
 
 K. — I know you are. So am I. My brother wouldn't give 
 me any, not a dump. Hang him ! Said he had his children to 
 look to. Milliken wouldn't advance me any more — said I did 
 him in that horse transaction. He ! he ! he ! so I did ! What 
 had I to do but to sell out ? And the fellows cut me, by Jove. 
 Ain't it too bad ? I'll take my name off the " Rag," I will, 
 though. 
 
 Lady K. — We must sow our wild oats, and we must sober 
 down ; and we must live here, where the living is very good~ 
 and very cheap, Clarence, you naughty boy ! And we must 
 get you a rich wife. Did you see at church yesterday that 
 
THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 645 
 
 oung woman in light-green, with rather red hair and a pink- 
 onnet ? 
 
 K. — I was asleep, ma'am, most of the time, or I was bookin' 
 up the odds for the Chester Cup. When I'm bookin' up, I 
 think of nothin' else, ma'am, nothin'. 
 
 Lady K. — That was Miss Brocksopp — Briggs, Brown and 
 Brocksopp, the great sugar-bakers. They say she will have 
 eighty thousand pound. We will ask her to dinner here. 
 
 K. — I say — why the doose do you have such old women to 
 dinner here ? Why don't you get some pretty girls ? Such a 
 set of confounded old frumps as eat Milliken's mutton I never 
 saw. There's you, and his old mother Mrs. Bonnington, and 
 old Mrs. Fogram, and old Miss What's-her-name, the won? an 
 with the squint eye, and that immense Mrs. Crowder. It's so 
 stoopid, that if it weren't for Touchit coming down sometimes, 
 and the billiards and boatin', I should die here — expire, by gad ! 
 Why don't you have some pretty women into the house, Lady 
 Kicklebury ? 
 
 Lady K. — Why ! Do you think I want that picture taken 
 down : and another Mrs. Milliken ? Wisehead ! If Horace 
 married again, would he be your banker, and keep this house, 
 now that ungrateful son of mine has turned me out of his ? 
 No pretty woman shall come into the house whilst I am here. 
 
 K. — Governess seems a pretty woman : weak eyes, bad 
 figure, poky, badly dressed, but doosid pretty woman. 
 
 Lady K. — Bah ! There is no danger from her. She is a 
 most faithful creature, attached to me beyond everything. And 
 her eyes — her eyes are weak with crying for some young man 
 who is in India. She has his miniature in her room, locked up 
 in one of her drawers. 
 
 K. — Then how the doose did you come to see it ? 
 
 Lady K. — We see a number of things, Clarence. Will you 
 drive with me ? 
 
 K. — Not as I knows on, thank you. No, Ma ; drivin's too 
 slow : and you're goin' to call on two or three old dowagers in 
 the Park ? Thank your ladyship for the delightful offer. 
 
 Enter John. 
 
 John. — Please, sir, here's the man with the bill for the 
 boats ; two pound three. 
 
 K. — Damn it, pay it — don't bother me ! 
 John. — Haven't got the money, sir. 
 
 Lady K. — Howell I I saw Mr. Milliken give you a check 
 
6 4 6 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 for twenty-five pounds before he went into town this morning. 
 Look, sir [runs, opens the drawer, takes out check-booJz\. There 
 it is, marked, " Howell, 25/." 
 
 John. — Would your ladyship like to step down into my 
 pantry and see what I've paid with the twenty-five pounds ? 
 Did my master leave any orders that your ladyship was to 
 inspect my accounts ? 
 
 Lady K. — Step down into the pantry! inspect .your ac- 
 counts ? I never heard such impertinence. What do you 
 mean, sir ? 
 
 K. — Dammy, sir, what do you mean ? 
 
 John. — I thought as her ladyship kept a heye over my 
 master's private book, she might like to look at mine too. 
 
 Lady K. — Upon my word, this insolence is too much. 
 
 John. — I beg your ladyship's pardon. I am sure I have said 
 nothing. 
 
 K. — Said, sir ! your manner is mutinous, by Jove, sir ! If I 
 had you in the regiment ! 
 
 John. — I understood that you had left the regiment, sir, 
 just before it went on the campaign, sir. 
 
 K. — Confound you, sir ! [Starts 
 
 Lady K. — Clarence, my child, my child ! 
 
 John. — Your ladyship needn't be alarmed ; I'm a little man, 
 my lady, but I don't think Mr. Clarence was a-goin' for to hit 
 me, my lady ; not before a lady, I'm sure. I suppose, sir, that 
 you won't pay the boatman ? 
 
 K. — No, sir, I won't pay him, nor any man who uses this 
 sort of damned impertinence ! 
 
 John. — I told Rullocks, sir, I thought it was just possible 
 you wouldn't. [Exit.'] 
 
 K. — That's a nice man, that is — an impudent villain i 
 
 Lady K. — Ruined by Horace's weakness. He ruins every- 
 body, poor good-natured Horace ! 
 
 K. — Why don't you get rid of the blackguard ? 
 
 Lady K. — There is a time for all things, my dear. This 
 man is very convenient to Horace. Mr. Milliken is exceedingly 
 lazy, and Howell spares him a great deal of trouble. Some 
 day or other I shall take all this domestic trouble off his hands. 
 But not yet : your poor brother-in-law is restive, like many weak 
 men. He is subjected to other influences : his odious mother 
 thwarts me a great deal. 
 
 K — Why, you used to be the dearest friends in the world. 
 I recollect when I was at Eton 
 
 Lady K. — Were; but friendship don't last forever. Mrs. 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB, 
 
 647 
 
 Bonnington and I have had serious differences since I came to 
 live here : she has a natural jealousy, perhaps, at my superin- 
 tending her son's affairs. When she ceases to visit at the 
 house, as she very possibly will, things will go more easily ; 
 and Mr. Howell will go too, you may depend upon it. I am 
 always sorry when my temper breaks out, as it will sometimes. 
 K.— Won't it, that's all ! 
 / Lady K. — At his insolence, my temper is high ; so is 
 yours, my dear. Calm it for the present, especially as regards 
 Howell. 
 
 K. — Gad ! d'you know I was very nearly pitching into him ? 
 But once, one night in the Haymarket, at a lobster-shop, where 
 I was with some fellows, we chaffed some other fellows, and 
 there was one fellah — quite a little fellah — and I pitched into 
 him, and he gave me the most confounded lickin' I ever had in 
 my life, since my brother Kicklebury licked me when we were 
 at Eton ; and that, you see, was a lesson to me, ma'am. Never 
 trust those little fellows, never chaff 'em : dammy, they may be 
 boxers. 
 
 Lady K. — You quarrelsome boy ! I remember you coming 
 home with your naughty head so bruised. [Looks at watch. ~\ 
 I must go now to take my drive. [Exit Lady K.] 
 
 K. — I owe a doose of a tick at that billiard -room ; I shall 
 have that boatman dunnin' me. Why hasn't Milliken got any 
 horses to ride ? Hang him ! suppose he can't ride— suppose 
 he's a tailor. He ain't my tailor though, though I owe him a 
 doosid deal of money. There goes mamma with that darling 
 nephew and niece of mine. [Enter Bulkeley.] Why haven't 
 you gone with my lady, you, sir ? [to Bulkeley]. 
 
 Bulkeley. — My lady have a-took the pony-carriage, sir ; 
 Mrs. Bonnington have a-took the hopen carriage and 'orses, sir, 
 this mornin', which the Bishop of London is 'olding a confir- 
 mation at Teddington, sir, and Mr. Bonnington is attending the 
 serimony. And I have told Mr. 'Owell, sir, that my lady would 
 prefer the hopen carriage, sir, which I like the hexercise my- 
 self, sir, and that the pony-carriage was good enough for Mrs. 
 Bonnington, sir * and Mr. 'Owell was very hinsolent to me, sir ; 
 and I don't think I can stay in the 'ouse with him. 
 
 K. — Hold your jaw, sir. 
 
 Bulkeley. — Yes, sir. [Exit Bulkeley.] 
 
 K. — I wonder who that governess is ? — sang rather pretty 
 last night — wish she'd come and sing now — wish she'd come 
 and amuse me — I've seen her face before — where have I seen 
 her face ? — it ain't at all a bad one. What shall I do ? dammy, 
 
6 4 8 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 I'll read a book : I've not read a book this ever so long. 
 What's here ? [looks amongst books, selects one, sinks down in easy 
 chair so as quite to be lost]. 
 
 Enter Miss Prior. 
 
 Miss Prior. — There's peace in the house ! those noisy- 
 children are away with their grandmamma. The weather is 
 beautiful, and I hope they will take a long drive. Now I can 
 have a quiet half-hour, and finish that dear pretty " Ruth " — 
 oh, how it makes me cry, that pretty story. [Lays down her 
 bonnet on table — goes to glass — takes off cap and spectacles — 
 arranges her hair — Clarence has got on chair looking at her.~\ 
 
 K. — By Jove ! I know who it is now ! Remember her as 
 well as possible. Four years ago, when little Foxbury used to 
 dance in the ballet over the water. Don't I remember her ! 
 She boxed my ears behind the scenes, by jingo. [Coming for- 
 ward^ Miss Pemberton ! Star of the ballet ! Light of the 
 harem ! Don't you remember the grand Oriental ballet of the 
 " Bulbul and the Peri ? » 
 
 Miss P. Oh ! [screams No, n — no, sir. You are mis- 
 taken : my name is Prior. I — never was at the " Coburg 
 
 Theatre." I 
 
 K. [seizing her hand?± — No, you don't, though ! What ! 
 don't you remember well that little hand slapping this face ? 
 which nature hadn't then adorned with whiskers, by gad ! You 
 pretend you have forgotten little Foxbury, whom Charley Cal- 
 verley used to come after, and who used to drive to the 
 " Coburg " every night in her brougham. How did you know 
 it was the " Coburg ? " That is a good one ! Had you there, 
 I think. 
 
 Miss P. — Sir, in the name of heaven, pity me ! I have to 
 keep my mother and my sisters and my brothers. When — 
 when you saw me, we were in great poverty ; and almost all 
 the wretched earnings I made at that time were given to my 
 poor father then lying in the Queen's Bench hard by. You 
 know there was nothing against my character — you know there 
 was not. Ask Captain Touchit whether I was not a good 
 girl. It was he who brought me to this house. 
 
 K. — Touchit ! the old villain ! 
 
 Miss P. — I had your sister's confidence. I tended her 
 abroad on her death-bed. I have brought up your nephew and 
 niece. Ask any one if I have not been honest ? As a man, 
 as a gentleman, I entreat you to keep my secret ! I implore 
 you for the sake of my poor mother and her children ! [kneeling?^ 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 649 
 
 K. — By Jove ! how handsome you are ! How crying be- 
 comes your eyes ! Get up ; get up. Of course I'll keep your 
 secret, but 
 
 Miss P. — Ah ! ah ! [She screams as he tries to embrace her. 
 Howell rushes in.'] 
 
 Howell. — Hands off, you little villain ! Stir a step, and 
 I'll kill you, if you were a regiment of captains ! What ! insult 
 this lady who kept watch at your sister's death-bed and has 
 took charge of her children ! Don't be frightened, Miss Prior, 
 Julia — dear, dear Julia — I'm by you. If the scoundrel touches 
 you, I'll kill him. I — I love you — there — it's here — love you 
 madly — with all my 'art — my a-heart ! 
 
 Miss P. — Howell — for heaven's sake, Howell ! 
 
 K.— Pooh — ooh ! [bursting with laughter]. Here's a novel, 
 by jingo ! Here's John in love with the governess. Fond of 
 plush, Miss Pemberton — ey ? Gad, it's the best thing I ever 
 knew. Saved a good bit, ey, Jeames ? Take a public-house ? 
 By Jove ! I'll buy my beer there. 
 
 John. — Owe for it, you mean. I don't think your tradesmen 
 profit much by your custom, ex-Cornet Kicklebury. 
 
 K. — By Jove ! I'll do for you, you villain ! 
 
 John. — No, not that way, Captain. [Struggles with a?id 
 throws him.] 
 
 K. — [screams.] — Hallo, Bulkeley ! [Bulkeley is seen strolling 
 in the garden^] 
 
 Enter Bulkeley. 
 Bulkeley. — What is it, sir ? 
 
 K. — Take this confounded villain off me, and pitch him into 
 the Thames — do you hear? 
 
 John. — Come here, and I'll break every bone in your 
 hulking body. [To Bulkeley.] 
 
 Bulkeley. — Come, come ! what hever his hall this year row 
 about ? 
 
 Miss P. — For heaven's sake, don't strike that poor man. 
 Bulkeley. — You be quiet. What's he a-hittin' about my 
 master for ? 
 
 John. — Take off your hat, sir, when you speak to a lady. 
 Takes up a poker.] And now come on both of you, cowards ! 
 Rushes at Bulkeley and knocks his hat off his head.] 
 
 Bulkeley [stepping back]. — If you'll put down that there 
 poker, you know, then I'll pitch into you fast enough. But 
 that there poker ain't fair, you know. 
 
 K. — You villain ! of course you will leave this house. And, 
 
THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Miss Prior, I think you understand that you will go too. I don't 
 think my niece wants to learn dancin\ you understand. Good- 
 by. Here, Bulkeley ! [Gets behind footman and exit] 
 
 Miss P. — Do you know the meaning of that threat, Mr. 
 Howell ? 
 
 John. — Yes, Miss Prior. 
 
 Miss P. — I was a dancer once, for three months, four years 
 ago, when my poor father was in prison. 
 
 John. — Yes, Miss Prior, I knew it. And I saw you a many 
 times. 
 
 Miss P. — And you kept my secret ? 
 John. — Yes, Ju — Jul — Miss Prior. 
 
 Miss P. — Thank you, and God bless you, John Howell. 
 There, there. You mustn't ! indeed, you mustn't ! 
 
 John. — You don't remember the printer's boy who used to 
 come to Mr. O'Reilly, and sit in your 'all in Bury Street, Miss 
 Prior ? I was that boy. I was a country-bred boy — that is if 
 you call Putney country, and Wimbledon Common and that. 
 I served the Milliken family seven years. I went with Master 
 Horace to college, and then I revolted against service, and I 
 thought I'd be a man and turn printer like Doctor Frankling. 
 And I got in an office : and I went with proofs to Mr. O'Reilly, 
 and I saw you. And though I might have been in love with 
 somebody else before I did — yet it was all hup when I saw 
 you. 
 
 Miss P. [kindly.] — You must not talk to me in that way, 
 John Howell. 
 
 John. — Let's tell the tale out. I couldn't stand the news- 
 paper night-work. I had a mother and brother and sisters to 
 keep, as you had. I went back to Horace Milliken and said, 
 Sir, I've lost my work. I and mine want bread. Will you 
 take me back again ? And he did. He's a kind, kind soul is 
 my master. 
 
 Miss P. — He is a kind, kind soul. 
 
 John. — He's good to all the poor. His hand's in his pocket 
 for everybody. Everybody takes advantage of him. His 
 mother-in-lor rides over him. So does his Ma. So do I, I 
 may say ; but that's over now ; and you and I have had our 
 notice to quit, Miss, I should say. 
 
 Miss P. — Yes. 
 
 John. — I have saved a bit of money — not much — a hun- 
 dred pound. Miss Prior — Julia — here I am — look — I'm a poor 
 feller — a poor servant — but I've the heart of a man — and — I 
 love you — oh ! I love you ! 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB, 
 
 Mary. — Oh — ho — ho ! [Mary has entered from garden, and 
 bursts out crying?^ 
 
 Miss P. — It can't be, John Howell — my dear, brave, kind 
 John Howell. It can't be. I have watched this for some time 
 past, and poor Mary's despair here. [Kisses Mary, who cries 
 plentifully^ You have the heart of a true, brave man, and 
 must show it and prove it now. I am not — am not of your — 
 pardon me for saying so — of your class in life. 'I was bred by 
 my uncle, away from my poor parents, though I came back to 
 them after his sudden death ; and to poverty, and to this de- 
 pendent life I am now leading. I am a servant, like you, John, 
 but in another sphere — have to seek another place now ; and 
 heaven knows if I shall procure one, now that that unlucky 
 passage in my life is known. Oh, the coward to recall it ! the 
 coward ! 
 
 Mary. — But John whopped him, Miss ! that he did. He 
 gave it to him well, John did. [Crying?^ 
 
 Miss P. — You can't — you ought not to forego an attach- 
 ment like that, John Howell. A more honest and true-hearted 
 creature never breathed than Mary Barlow. 
 
 John. — No, indeed. 
 
 Miss P. — She has loved you since she was a little child. 
 And you loved her once, and do now, John. 
 
 Mary. — Oh, Miss ! you hare a hangel, — I hallways said you 
 were a hangel. 
 
 Miss P. — You are better than I am, my dear — much, much 
 better than I am, John. The curse of my poverty has been 
 that I have had to flatter and to dissemble, and hide the faults 
 of those I wanted to help, and to smile when I was hurt, and 
 laugh when I was sad, and to coax, and to tack, and to bide 
 my time, — not with Mr. Milliken : he is all honor, and kind- 
 ness, and simplicity. Who did he ever injure, or what unkind 
 word did he ever say ? But do you think, with the jealousy of 
 those poor ladies over his house, I could have stayed here 
 without being a hypocrite to both of them ? Go, John. My 
 good, dear friend, John Howell, marry Mary. You'll be hap- 
 pier with her than with me. There ! There ! [They embrace?\ 
 
 Mary. — O — o — o ! I think I'll go and hiron hout Miss 
 Harabella's frocks now. [Exit Mary.] 
 
 Enter Milliken with Clarence — who is explaining things to 
 
 him. 
 
 Clarence. — Here they are, I give you my word of honor. 
 Ask 'em, damn 'em. 42 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Milliken. — What is this I hear ? You, John Howell, have 
 dared to strike a gentleman under my roof ! Your master's 
 brother-in-law ? 
 
 John. — Yes, by Jove ! and I'd do it again. 
 
 Milliken. — Are you drunk or mad, Howell ? 
 
 John. — I'm as sober and as sensible as ever I was in my 
 life, sir — I not only struck the master, but I struck the man, 
 who's twice as big, only not quite as big a coward, I think. 
 
 Milliken. — Hold your scurrilous tongue, sir ! My good 
 nature ruins everybody about me. Make up your accounts. 
 Pack your trunks — and never let me see your face again. 
 
 John. — Very good, sir. 
 
 Milliken. — I suppose, Miss Prior, you will also be disposed 
 to — to follow Mr. Howell ? 
 
 Miss P. — To quit you, now you know what has passed ? I 
 never supposed it could be otherwise — I deceived jou, Mr. 
 Milliken — as I kept a secret from you, and must pay the pen- 
 alty. It is a relief to me, the sword has been hanging over me. 
 I wish I had told your poor wife, as I was often minded to do. 
 
 Milliken. — Oh, you were minded to do it in Italy, were 
 you ? 
 
 Miss P. — Captain Touchit knew it, sir, all along : and that 
 my motives and, thank God, my life were honorable. 
 
 Milliken. — Oh, Touchit knew it, did he ? and thought it 
 honorable — honorable. Ha ! ha ! to marry a footman — and 
 keep a public-house ? I — I beg your pardon, John Howell — I 
 mean nothing against you, you know. You're an honorable 
 man enough, except that you have been damned insolent to my 
 brother-in-law. 
 
 John. — Oh, heaven ! [John strikes his forehead, and walks 
 away.] 
 
 Miss P. — You mistake me, sir. What I wished to speak of 
 was the fact which this gentleman has no doubt communicated 
 to you — that I danced on the stage for three months. 
 
 Milliken. — Oh, yes. Oh, damme, yes. I forgot. I wasn't 
 thinking of that. 
 
 Kicklebury. — You see she owns it. 
 
 Miss P. — We were in the depths of poverty. Our furniture 
 and lodging-house under execution — from which Captain 
 Touchit, when he came to know of our difficulties, nobly after- 
 wards released us. My father was in prison, and wanted 
 shillings for medicine, and I — I went and danced on the stage. 
 
 Milliken. — Well ? 
 
 Miss P. — And I kept the secret afterwards ; knowing that 
 
THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB, 
 
 653 
 
 I could never hope as governess to obtain a place after having 
 been a stage-dancer. 
 
 Milliken. — Of course you couldn't, — it's out of the ques- 
 tion \ and may I ask, are you going to resume that delightful 
 profession when you enter the married state with Mr. Howell ? 
 
 Miss P. — Poor John ! it is not I who am going to — that is, 
 it's Mary, the schoolroom maid. 
 
 Milliken. — Eternal blazes ! Have you turned Mormon, 
 John Howell, and are you going to marry the whole house ? 
 
 John. — I made a hass of myself about Miss Prior. I couldn't 
 help her being 1 — 1 — lovely. 
 
 Kick. — Gad, he proposed to her in my presence. 
 
 John. — What I proposed to her, Cornet Clarence Kickle- 
 bury, was my heart and my honor, and my best, and my every- 
 thing — and you — you wanted to take advantage of her secret, 
 and you offered her indignities, and you laid a cowardly hand 
 on her — a cowardly hand ! — and I struck you, and I'd do it 
 again. 
 
 Milliken. — What ? Is this true ? [Turning rowid very 
 fiercely to K.] 
 
 Kick.— Gad ! Well— I only 
 
 Milliken. — You only what ? You only insulted a lady 
 under my roof — the friend and nurse of your dead sister — the 
 guardian of my children. You only took advantage of a de- 
 fenceless girl, and would have extorted your infernal pay out of 
 her fear. You miserable sneak and coward ! 
 
 Kick. — Hallo ? Come, come ! I say I won't stand this 
 sort of chaff. Dam my, I'll send a friend to you ! 
 
 Milliken. — Go out of that window, sir. March ! or I will 
 tell my servant, John Howell, to kick you out, you wretched 
 little scamp ! Tell that big brute, — what's-his-name ? — Lady 
 Kicklebury's man, to pack this young man's portmanteau and 
 bear's-grease pots ; and if ever you enter these doors again, 
 Clarence Kicklebury, by the heaven that made me ! — by your 
 sister who is dead ! — I will cane your life out of your bones. 
 Angel in heaven ! Shade of my Arabella — to think that your 
 brother in your house should be found to insult the guardian of 
 your children ! 
 
 John. — By jingo, you're a good-plucked one ! I knew he 
 was. Miss, — I told you he was. [Exit, shaking hands with his 
 master, and with Miss P., and dancing for joy. Exit Clarence, 
 scared, out of windo7v.~\ 
 
 John [without]. — Bulkeley ! pack up the Captain's luggage ! 
 
 Milliken. — How can I ask your pardon, Miss Prior ? In 
 
654 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 my wife's name I ask it — in the name of that angel whose 
 dying-bed you watched and soothed — of the innocent children 
 whom you have faithfully tended since. 
 
 Miss P. — Ah, sir ! it is granted when you speak so to me. 
 
 Milliken. — Eh, eh — d — don't call me sir ! 
 
 Miss P. — It is for me to ask pardon for hiding what you 
 know now : but if I had told you — you — you never would have 
 taken me into your house — your wife never would. 
 
 Milliken. — No, no. [Weeping.'] 
 
 Miss P. — My dear, kind Captain Touchit knows it all. It 
 was by his counsel I acted. He it was who relieved our dis- 
 tress. Ask him whether my conduct was not honorable — ask 
 him whether my life was not devoted to my parents — ask him 
 when — when I am gone. 
 
 Milliken. — When you are gone, Julia ! Why are you 
 going ? Why should you go, my love — that is — why need you 
 go, in the devil's name ? 
 
 Miss P. — Because, when your mother — when your mother- 
 in-law come to hear that your children's governess has been a 
 dancer on the stage, they will send me away, and you will not 
 have the power to resist them. They ought to send me away, 
 sir ; but I have acted honestly by the children and their poor 
 mother, and you'll think of me kindly when — I — am — gone ? 
 
 Milliken. — Julia, my dearest — dear — noble — dar the 
 
 devil ! here's old Kicklebury. 
 
 Enter Lady K., Children, and Clarence. 
 
 Lady K. — So, Miss Prior ! this is what I hear, is it ? A 
 dancer in my house ! a serpent in my bosom — poisoning — yes, 
 poisoning those blessed children ! occasioning quarrels between 
 my own son and my dearest sqn-in-law ; flirting with the foot- 
 man ! When do you intend to leave, madam, the house which 
 you have po — poll — luted ? 
 
 Miss P. — I need no hard language, Lady Kicklebury : and 
 I will reply to none. I have signified to Mr. Milliken my wish 
 to leave his house. 
 
 Milliken. — Not, not, if you will stay. [To Miss P.] 
 
 Lady K. — Stay, Horace ! she shall never stay as governess 
 in this house ! 
 
 Milliken. — Julia! will you stay as mistress? You have 
 known me for a year alone — before, not so well — when the 
 house had a mistress that is gone. You know what my temper 
 is, and that my tastes are simple, and my heart not unkind. I 
 have watched you, and have never seen you out of temper, 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 655 
 
 though you have been tried. I have long thought you good 
 and beautiful, but I never thought to ask the question which I 
 put to you now ; — come in, sir ! [to Clarence at door] : — now 
 that you have been persecuted by those who ought to have up- 
 held you, and insulted by those who owed you gratitude and 
 respect. I am tired of their domination, and as weary of a 
 man's cowardly impertinence [to Clarence] as of a woman's 
 jealous tyranny. They have made what was my Arabella's 
 home miserable by their oppression and their quarrels. Julia ! 
 my wife's friend, my children's friend ! be mine, and make me 
 happy ! Don't leave me, Julia ! say you won't — say you won't 
 —dearest — dearest girl ! 
 
 Miss P. — I won't — leave — you. 
 
 George [without]. — Oh, I say! Arabella, look here : here's 
 papa a-kissing Miss Prior ! 
 
 Lady K. — Horace — Clarence my son ! Shade of my Ara- 
 bella ! can you behold this horrible scene, and not shudder in 
 heaven ! Bulkeley ! Clarence ! go for a doctor — go to Doctor 
 Straitwaist at the Asylum — Horace Milliken, who has married 
 the descendant of the Kickleburys of the Conqueror, marry a 
 dancing-girl off the stage ! Horace Milliken ! do yoiKwish to 
 see me die in convulsions at your feet ? I writhe there, I 
 grovel there. Look ! look at me on my knees ! your own 
 mother-in-law ! drive away this fiend ! 
 
 Milliken. — Hem ! I ought to thank you, Lady Kicklebury, 
 for it is you that have given her to me. 
 
 Lady K. — He won't listen ! he turns away and kisses her 
 horrible hand. This will never do : help me up, Clarence, I 
 must go and fetch his mother. Ah, ah ! there she is, there she 
 is ! [Lady K. rushes out, as the top of a barouche, with Mr. and 
 Mrs. Bonnington and Coachman, is seen over the gate.] 
 
 Mrs. B. — What is this I hear, my son, my son ? You are 
 going to marry a — a stage-dancer ? you are driving me mad. 
 Horace ! 
 
 Milliken. — Give me my second chance, mother, to be 
 happy. You have had yourself two chances. 
 
 Mrs. B. — Speak to him, Mr. Bonnington. [Bonnington 
 makes dumb shout.] 
 
 Lady K. — Implore him, Mr. Bonnington. 
 
 Mrs. B. — Pray, pray for him, Mr. Bonnington, my love — 
 my lost, abandoned boy ! 
 
 Lady K. — Oh, my poor dear Mrs. Bonnington ! 
 
 Mrs. B. — Oh, my poor dear Lady Kicklebury. [They em- 
 brace each other.] 
 
6 S 6 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 Lady K. — I have been down on my knees to him, dearest 
 Mrs. Bonnington. 
 
 Mrs. B. — Let us both — both go down on our knees — I will 
 [to her husband]. Edward, I will ! \Both ladies on their knees. 
 Bonnington with outstretched hands behind them?\ Look, un- 
 happy boy ! look, Horace ! two mothers on their wretched knees 
 before you, imploring you to send away this monster ! Speak 
 to him, Mr. Bonnington. Edward ! use authority with him, if 
 he will not listen to his mother — 
 
 Lady K. — To his mothers ! 
 
 Enter Touchit. 
 
 Touchit. — What is this comedy going on, ladies and gentle- 
 men ? The ladies on their elderly knees — Miss Prior with her 
 hair down her back. Is it tragedy or comedy — is it a rehearsal 
 for a charade, or are we acting for Horace's birthday ? or, oh ! 
 — 1" beg your Reverence's pardon — you were perhaps going to 
 a professional duty ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — It's we who are praying this child, Touchit. This 
 child, with whom you used to come home from Westminster 
 when you were boys. You have influence with him ; he listens 
 to you. Entreat him to pause in his madness. 
 
 Touchit. — What madness ? 
 
 Mrs. B. — That — that woman — that serpent yonder — that — 
 that dancing-woman, whom you introduced to Arabella Milli- 
 ken, — ah ! and I rue the day : — Horace is going to mum — mum 
 — marry her ! 
 
 Touchit. — Well ! I always thought he would. Ever since I 
 saw him and her playing at whist together, when I came down 
 here a month ago, I thought he would do it. 
 
 Mrs. B. — Oh, it's the whist, the whist ! Why did I ever 
 play at whist, Edward ! My poor Mr. Milliken used to like 
 his rubber. 
 
 Touchit. — Since he has been a widower 
 
 Lady K. — A widower of that angel ! [Points to picture.] 
 Touchit. — Pooh, pooh, angel ! You ladies have never 
 given the poor fellow any peace. You were always quarrelling 
 over him. You took possession of his house, bullied his ser- 
 vants, spoiled his children ; you did, Lady Kicklebury. 
 
 Lady K. — Sir, you are a rude, low, presuming, vulgar man. 
 Clarence ! beat this rude man ! 
 
 Touchit. — From what I have heard of your amiable son, he 
 is not in the warlike line, I think. My dear Julia, I am delighted 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 657 
 
 with all my heart that my old friend should have found a wo- 
 man of sense, good conduct, good temper — a woman who has 
 had many trials, and borne them with great patience — to take 
 charge of him and make him happy. Horace ! give me your 
 hand ! I knew Miss Prior in great poverty. I am sure she 
 will bear as nobly her present good fortune ; for good fortune 
 it is to any woman to become the wife of such a loyal, honest, 
 kindly gentleman as you are ! 
 
 Enter John. 
 
 John. — If you please, my lady — if you please, sir — Bulke- 
 ley 
 
 Lady K. — What of Bulkeley, sir ? 
 
 John. — He has packed his things, and Cornet Kicklebury's 
 things, my lady. 
 
 Milliken. — Let the fellow go. 
 
 John. — He won't go, sir, till my lady have paid him his 
 book and wages. Here's the book, sir. 
 
 Lady K. — Insolence ! quit my presence ! And I, Mr. Milli- 
 ken, will quit a house 
 
 John. — Shall I call your ladyship a carriage ? 
 
 Lady K. — Where I have met with rudeness, cruelty, and 
 fiendish [to Miss P., who smiles and curtseys'] — yes, fiendish in- 
 gratitude. I will go, I say, as soon as I have made arrange- 
 ments for taking other lodgings. You cannot expect a lady of 
 fashion to run out like a servant. 
 
 John. — Hire the " Star and Garter " for her, sir. Send 
 down to the " Castle ; " anything to get rid of her. I'll tell her 
 maid to pack her traps. Pinhorn ! \Beck071s maid and gives 
 orders?^ 
 
 Touchit. — You had better go at once, my dear Lady Kickle- 
 bury. 
 
 Lady K.— Sir ! 
 
 Touchit. — The other mother-in-law is coming \ I met her 
 on the road with her family. He ! he ! he ! [Screams.] 
 
 Enter Mrs. Prior and Children. 
 
 Mrs. P. — My Lady ! I hope your ladyship is quite well ! 
 Dear, kind Mrs. Bonnington ! I came to pay my duty to you, 
 ma'am. This is Charlotte, my Lady — the great girl whom 
 your ladyship so kindly promised the gown for; and this is my 
 little girl, Mrs. Bonnington, ma'am, please ; and this is my 
 little Bluecoat boy. Go and speak to dear, kind Mr. Milliken 
 
6 5 8 
 
 THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 — our best friend and protector — the son and son-in-law of 
 these dear ladies. Look, sir ! He has brought his copy to show 
 you. [Boy shows copy.] Ain't it creditable to a boy of his age, 
 Captain Touchit ? And my best and most grateful services to 
 you, sir. Julia, Julia, my dear, where's your cap and spectacles, 
 you stupid thing ? You've let your hair drop down. What ! 
 what ! — \_Begins to be puzzled?^ 
 
 Mrs. B. — Is this collusion, madam ! 
 
 Mrs. P. — Collusion, dear Mrs. Bonnington ! 
 
 Lady K. — Or insolence, Mrs. Prior ? 
 
 Mrs. P. — Insolence, your ladyship ! What — what is it ? 
 what has happened ? What's Julia's hair down for ? Ah ! 
 you've not sent the poor girl away ? the poor, poor child, and 
 the poor, poor children ! 
 
 Touchit. — That dancing at the " Coburg " has come out, 
 Mrs. Prior. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Not the darling's fault. It was to help her poor 
 father in prison. It was I who forced her to doit. Oh ! don't, 
 don't, dear Lady Kicklebury, take the bread out of the mouth 
 of these poor orphans ! [Crying.'] 
 
 Milliken. — Enough of this, Mrs. Prior : your daughter is 
 not going away. Julia has promised to stay with me — and — 
 never to leave me — as governess no longer, but as wife to me. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Is it — is it true, Julia ? 
 
 Miss P. — Yes, mamma. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Oh ! oh ! oh ! [Flings down her umbrella, kisses 
 Julia, and runni?tg to Milliken,] My son, my son ! Come 
 here, children. Come, Adolphus, Amelia, Charlotte — kiss 
 your dear brother, children. What, my dears ! How do you 
 do, dears ? [to Milliken's children]. Have they heard the 
 news ? And do you know that my daughter is going to be 
 your mamma ? There — there — go and play with your little 
 uncles and aunts, that's good children ! [She motions off the 
 Children, who 1'etire towards garden. Her ?nanner changes to 
 one of great patronage and intense satisfaction^ Most hot weather 
 your ladyship, I'm sure. Mr. Bonnington, you must find it hot 
 weather for preachin' ! Lor' ! there's that little wretch beatin' 
 Adolphus ! George, sir ! have done, sir ! [Runs to separate 
 them!] Plow ever shall we make those children agree, Julia ? 
 
 Miss P.— They have been a little spoiled, and I think Mr. 
 Milliken will send George and Arabella to school, mamma : 
 will you not, Horace ? 
 
 Mr. Milliken. — I think school will be the very best thing 
 for them. 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 ^59 
 
 Mrs. P. — And [Mrs. P. whispers, pointing to her own chil- 
 dren 1 ^ the blue room, the green room, the rooms old Lady Kick 
 has — plenty of rooms for us, my dear ! 
 
 Miss P. — No, mamma, I think it will be too large a party, 
 — Mr. Milliken has often said that he would like to go abroad, 
 and I hope that now he will be able to make his tour. 
 
 Mrs. P. — Oh, then ! we can live in the house, you know : 
 what's the use of payin' lodging my dear ? 
 
 Miss P. — The house is going to be painted. You had best 
 live in your own house, mamma ; and if you want anything, 
 Horace, Mr. Milliken, I am sure, will make it comfortable for 
 you. He has had too many visitors of late, and will like a 
 more quiet life, I think. Will you not ? 
 
 Milliken. — I shall like a life with you, Julia. 
 
 John. — Cab, sir, for her ladyship ! 
 
 Lady K. — This instant let me go ! Call my people. Clar- 
 ence, your arm ! Bulkeley, Pinhorn ! Mrs. Bonnington, I 
 wish you good-morning ! Arabella, angel ! [looks at picture'] I 
 leave you. I shall come to you ere Jong. [Exit, refusing Mil- 
 liken 's hand, passes up garden, with her servants following her. 
 Mary and other servants of the house are collected together, whom 
 Lady K. waves off. Bluecoat boy on wall eating plums. Page, 
 as she goes, cries, Hurray, hurray ! Bluecoat boy cries, Hurray ! 
 When Lady K. is gone, John advances ?± 
 
 John. — I think I heard you say, sir, that it was your inten- 
 tion to go abroad ? 
 
 Milliken. — Yes • oh, yes ! Are we going abroad, my 
 Julia? 
 
 Miss P. — To settle matters, to have the house painted, and 
 clear [pointing to children, mother, &>c.~\ Don't you think it is 
 the best thing that we can do ? 
 
 Milliken. — Surely, surely ; we are going abroad. Howell, 
 you will come with us of course, and with your experiences you 
 will make a capital courier. Won't Howell make a capital 
 courier, Julia ? Good, honest fellow, John Howell. Beg your 
 pardon for being so rude to you just now. But my temper is 
 very hot, very ! 
 
 John [laughing]. — You are a Tartar, sir. Such a tyrant ! 
 isn't he, ma'am ? 
 
 Miss P. — Well, no ; I don't think you have a very bad 
 temper, Mr. Milliken, a — Horace. 
 
 John. — You must — take care of him — alone, Miss Prior — 
 Julia — I mean Mrs. Milliken. Man and boy I've waited on 
 him this fifteen year : with the exception of that trial at the 
 
66o 
 
 THE WOL VES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 printing-office — which — which I won't talk of now, madam. I 
 never knew him angry ; though many a time I have known him 
 provoked. I never knew him say a hard word, though some- 
 times perhaps we've deserved it. Not often — such a good 
 master as that is pretty stlre of getting a good servant — that is, 
 if a man has a heart in his bosom ; and these things are found 
 both in and out of livery. Yes, I have been a honest servant 
 to him, — haven't I, Mr. Milliken ? 
 Milliken. — Indeed, yes, John. 
 
 John. — And so has Mary Barlow. Mary, my dear ! [Mary 
 comes forward?^ Will you allow me to introduce you, sir, to 
 the futur' Mrs. Howell ? — if Mr. Bonnington does your little 
 business for you, as I dare say [turning to Mr. B.], hold gov'nor, 
 you will ! — Make it up with your poor son, Mrs. Bonnington, 
 ma'am. You have took a second 'elpmate, why shouldn't 
 Master Horace ? [to Mrs. B.] He — he wants somebody to help 
 him, and take care of "him, more than you do. 
 
 Touchit. — You never spoke a truer word in your life, 
 Howell. 
 
 John. — It's my general 'abit, Capting, to indulge in them 
 sort of statements. A true friend I have been to my master, 
 and a true friend I'll remain when he's my master no more. 
 
 Milliken. — Why, John, you are not going to leave me ? 
 
 John. — It's best, sir, I should go. I — I'm not fit to be a 
 servant in this house any longer. I wish to sit in my own little 
 home, with my own little wife by my side. Poor dear ! you've 
 no conversation, Mary, but you're a good little soul. We've 
 saved a hundred pound apiece, and if we want more, I know 
 who won't grudge it us, a good feller — a good master — for 
 whom I've saved many a hundred pound myself, and will take 
 the " Milliken Arms " at old Pigeoncot — and once a year or so, 
 at this, hanniversary, we will pay our respects to you, sir, and 
 madam. Perhaps we will bring some children with us, perhaps 
 we will find some more in this villa. Bless 'em beforehand ! 
 Good-by, sir, and madam — come away, Mary ! [going]. 
 
 Mrs. P. [entering with clothes, <W.] — She has not left a 
 single thing in her room. Amelia, come here ! this cloak will 
 do capital for you, and this — this garment is the very thing for 
 Adolphus. Oh, John ! eh, Howell ! will you please to see that 
 my children have something to eat, immediately ! The Mil- 
 liken children, I suppose, have dined already ? 
 
 John. — Yes, ma'am • certainly, ma'am. 
 
 Mrs. P. — I see he is inclined to be civil to me now ) 
 
 Miss P. — John Howell is about to leave us, mamma. He 
 
THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB. 
 
 661 
 
 is engaged to Mary Barlow, and when we go away, he is going 
 to set up housekeeping for himself. Good-by, and thank you, 
 John Howell [gives her hand to John, but with great reserve of 
 manner]. You have been a kind and true friend to us — if ever 
 we can serve you, count upon us — may he not, Mr. Milliken ? 
 Milliken. — Always, always. 
 
 Miss P. — But you will still wait upon us — upon Mr. Mil- 
 liken, for a day or two, won't you, John ? until we — until Mr. 
 Milliken has found some one to replace you. He will never 
 find any one more honest than you, and good, kind little Mary. 
 Thank you, Mary, for your goodness to the poor governess. 
 
 Mary. — Oh, miss ! oh, mum ! [Miss P. kisses Mary patron* 
 izingly\ 
 
 Miss P. [to John], — And after they have had some refresh- 
 ment, get a cab for my brothers and sisters, if you please, John. 
 Don't you think that will be best, my — my dear ? 
 
 Milliken. — Of course, of course, dear Julia ! 
 
 Miss P. — And, Captain Touchit, you will stay, I hope, and 
 dine with Mr. Milliken ? And, Mrs. Bonnington, if you will 
 receive as a daughter one who has always had a sincere regard 
 for you, I think you will aid in making your son happy, as I 
 promise you with all my heart and all my life to endeavor to 
 do. [Miss P. and M. go up to Mrs. Bonnington.] 
 
 Mrs. Bonnington. — Well, there then, since it must be so, 
 bless you, my children. 
 
 Touchit. — Spoken like a sensible woman ! And now, as I 
 do not wish to interrupt this felicity, I will go and dine at the 
 " Star and Garter." 
 
 Miss P. — My dear Captain Touchit, not for worlds ! 
 Don't you know I mustn't be alone with Mr. Milliken until — 
 until ? 
 
 Milliken. — Until I am made the happiest man alive ! 
 And you will come down and see us often, Touchit, won't you ? 
 And we hope to see our friends here often. And we will have 
 a little life and spirit and gayety in the place. Oh, mother ! 
 oh, George ! oh, Julia ! what a comfort it is to me to think that 
 I am released from the tyranny of that terrible mother-in-law ! 
 
 Mrs. Prior. — Come in to your teas, children. Come this 
 moment, I say. [The Children pass, quarrelling behind the 
 characters, Mrs. Prior, summoning them; John and Mary 
 standing on each side of the dining-room door as the curtain falls.'] 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 (66 3 ) 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY * 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 OF THE LOVES OF MR. PERKINS AND MISS GORGON, AND OF 
 THE TWO GREAT FACTIONS IN THE TOWN OF OLDBOROUGH. 
 
 " My dear John," cried Lucy, with a very wise look indeed, 
 " it must and shall be so. As for Doughty Street, with our 
 means, a house is out of the question. We must keep three 
 servants, and aunt Biggs says the taxes are one-and-twenty 
 pounds a year." 
 
 " I have seen a sweet place at Chelsea," remarked John : 
 " Paradise Row, No. 17, — garden — greenhouse — fifty pounds a 
 year — omnibus to town within a mile." 
 
 " What ! that I may be left alone all day, and you spend a 
 fortune in driving backward and forward in those horrid break- 
 neck cabs ? My darling, I should die there — die of fright, I 
 know I should. Did you not say yourself that the road was 
 not as yet lighted, and that the place swarmed with public- 
 houses and dreadful tipsy Irish bricklayers ? Would you kill 
 me, John ? " 
 
 " My da — arling," said John, with tremendous fondness, 
 clutching Miss Lucy suddenly round the waist, and rapping 
 the hand of that young person violently against his waistcoat, 
 — " My — da — arling, don't say such things, even in a joke. If 
 I objected to the chambers, it is only because you, my love, 
 with your birth and connections, ought to have a house of your 
 own. The chambers are quite large enough, and certainly 
 quite good enough for me." And so after some more sweet 
 parley on the part of these young people, it was agreed that 
 
 * A story of Charles de Bernard furnished the plot of " The Bedford-Row Conspiracy." 
 
 (665) 
 
666 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 they should take up their abode, when married, in a part of 
 the House number One hundred and something, Bedford Row. 
 
 It will be necessary to explain to the reader that John was 
 no other than John Perkins, Esq., of the Middle Temple, bar- 
 rister-at-law, and that Miss Lucy was the daughter of the late 
 Captain Gorgon, and Marianne Biggs, his wife. The Captain 
 being of noble connections, younger son of a baronet, cousin 
 
 to Lord X , and related to the Y family, had angered 
 
 all his relatives by marrying a very silly, pretty young woman, 
 who kept a ladies' school at Canterbury. She had six hundred 
 pounds to her fortune, which the Captain laid out in the pur- 
 chase of a sweet travelling-carriage and dressing-case for him- 
 self ; and going abroad with his lady, spent several years in the 
 principal prisons of Europe, in one of which he died. His wife 
 and daughter were meantime supported by the contributions of 
 Mrs. Jemima Biggs, who still kept the ladies' school. 
 
 At last a dear old relative — such a one as one reads of in 
 romances — died and left seven thousand pounds apiece to the 
 two sisters, whereupon the elder gave up schooling and retired 
 to London ; and the younger managed to live with some com- 
 fort and decency at Brussels, upon two hundred and ten 
 pounds per annum. Mrs. Gorgon never touched a shilling of 
 her capital, for the very good reason that it was placed entirely 
 out of her reach ; so that when she died, her daughter found 
 - herself in possession of a sum of money that is not always to 
 be met with in this world. 
 
 Her aunt the baronet's lady, and her aunt the ex-school- 
 mistress, both wrote very pressing invitations to her, and she- 
 resided with each for six months after her arrival in England. 
 Now, for a second time, she had come to Mrs. Biggs, Caroline 
 Place, Mecklenburgh Square. It was under the roof of that 
 respectable old lady that John Perkins, Esq., being invited to 
 take tea, wooed and won Miss Gorgon. 
 
 Having thus described the circumstances of Miss Gorgon's 
 life, let us pass for a moment from that young lady, and lift up 
 the veil of mystery which envelopes the deeds and character of 
 Perkins. 
 
 Perkins, too, was an orphan ; and he and his Lucy, of 
 summer evenings, when Sol descending lingered fondly yet 
 about the minarets of the Foundling, and gilded the grass-plots 
 of Mecklenburgh Square — Perkins, I say, and Lucy would 
 often sit together in the summer-house of that pleasure-ground, 
 and muse upon the strange coincidences of their life. Lucy 
 was motherless and fatherless ; so, too, was Perkins. If Per- 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 667 
 
 kins was brotherless and sisterless, was not Lucy likewise an 
 only child ? Perkins was twenty-three : his age and Lucy's 
 united, amounted to forty-six; and it was to be remarked, as a 
 fact still more extraordinary, that while Lucy's relatives were 
 aunts, John's were uncles. Mysterious spirit of love ! let us 
 treat thee with respect and whisper not too many of thy secrets. 
 The fact is, John and Lucy were a pair of fools (as every young 
 couple ought to be who have hearts that are worth a farthing), 
 and were ready_to find coincidences, sympathies, hidden gushes 
 of feeling, mystic unions of the soul, and what not, in every sin- 
 gle circumstance that occurred from the rising of the sun to the 
 going down thereof, and in the intervals. Bedford Row, where 
 Perkins lived, is not very far from Mecklenburgh Square ; and 
 John used to say that he felt a comfort that his house and 
 Lucy's were served by the same muffin-man. 
 
 Further comment is needless. A more honest, simple, 
 clever, warm-hearted, soft, whimsical, romantical, high-spirited 
 young fellow than John Perkins did not exist. When his father, 
 Dr. Perkins, died, this, his only son, was placed under the care 
 of John Perkins, Esq., of the house of Perkins, Scully and 
 Perkins, those celebrated attorneys in the trading town of Old- 
 borough, which the second partner, William Pitt Scully, Esq., 
 represented in Parliament and in London. 
 
 All John's fortune was the house in Bedford Row, which, at 
 his father's death, was let out into chambers, and brought in a 
 clear hundred a year. Under his uncle's roof at Oldborough, 
 where he lived with thirteen red-haired male and female cousins, 
 he was only charged fifty pounds for board, clothes, and pocket- 
 money, and the remainder of his rents was carefully put by for 
 him until his majority. When he approached that period — 
 when he came to belong to two spouting-clubs at Oldborough, 
 among the young merchants and lawyers'-clerks — to blow the 
 flute nicely, and play a good game at billiards — to have written 
 one or two smart things in the Oldborough Sentinel — to be fond 
 of smoking (in which act he was discovered by his fainting 
 aunt at three o'clock one morning)— in one word, when John 
 Perkins arrived at manhood, he discovered that he was quite 
 unfit to be an attorney, that he detested all the ways of his 
 uncle's stern, dull, vulgar, regular, red-headed family, and he 
 vowed that he would go to London and make his fortune. 
 Thither he went, his aunt and cousins, who were all " serious," 
 vowing that he was a lost boy ; and when his history opens, 
 John had been two years in the metropolis, inhabiting his own 
 garrets \ and a very nice compact set of apartments, looking 
 
 43 
 
668 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 into the back-garden, at this moment falling vacant, the pru- 
 dent Lucy Gorgon had visited them, and vowed that she and 
 her John should there commence housekeeping. 
 
 All these explanations are tedious, but necessary ; and 
 furthermore, it must be said, that as John's uncle's partner was 
 the Liberal Member for Oldborough, so Lucy's uncle was its 
 Ministerial representative. 
 
 This gentleman, the brother of the deceased Captain Gorgon, 
 lived at the paternal mansion of Gorgon Castle, and rejoiced 
 in the name and title of Sir George Grimsby Gorgon. He, 
 too, like his younger brother, had married a lady beneath his 
 own rank in life ; having espoused the daughter and heiress of 
 Mr. Hicks, the great brewer at Oldborough, who held numerous 
 mortgages on the Gorgon property, all of which he yielded up, 
 together with his daughter Juliana, to the care of the baronet. 
 
 What Lady Gorgon was in character, this history will show. 
 In person, if she may be compared to any vulgar animal, one 
 of her father's heavy, healthy, broad-flanked, Roman-nosed 
 white dray-horses might, to the poetic mind, appear to resemble 
 her. At twenty she was a splendid creature, and though not 
 at her full growth, yet remarkable for strength and sinew • at 
 forty-five she was as fine a woman as any in his Majesty's do- 
 minions. Five feet seven in height, thirteen stone, her own 
 teeth and hair, she looked as if she were the mother of a regi- 
 ment of Grenadier Guards. She had three daughters of her 
 own size, and at length, ten years after the birth of the last of 
 the young ladies, a son — one son — George Augustus Frederick 
 Grimsby Gorgon, the godson of a royal duke, whose steady 
 officer in waiting Sir George had been for many years. 
 
 It is needless to say, after entering so largely into a descrip- 
 tion of Lady Gorgon, that her husband was a little shrivelled, 
 wizen-faced creature, eight inches shorter than her ladyship. 
 This is the way of the world, as every single reader of this 
 book must have remarked \ for frolic love delights to join 
 giants and pygmies of different sexes in the bonds of matrimony. 
 When you saw her ladyship, in flame-colored satin and gor- 
 geous toque and feathers, entering the drawing-room, as foot- 
 men along the stairs shouted melodiously, " Sir George and 
 Lady Gorgon," you beheld in her company a small withered 
 old gentleman, with powder and large royal household buttons, 
 who tripped at her elbow as a little weak-legged colt does at 
 the side of a stout mare. 
 
 The little General had been present at about a hundred and 
 twenty pitched battles on Hounslow Heath and Wormwood 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Scrubs, but had never drawn sword against an enemy. As 
 might be expected, therefore, his talk and tenue were outra- 
 geously military. He had the whole Army List by heart — that 
 is, as far as the field-officers : all below them he scorned. A 
 bugle at Gorgon Castle always sounded at breakfast and dinner : 
 a gun announced sunset. He clung to his pigtail for many 
 years after the army had forsaken that ornament, and could 
 never be brought to think much of the Peninsular men for giv- 
 ing it up. When he spoke of the Duke, he used to call him 
 " My Lord Wellington — I recollect him as Captain Wesley." He 
 swore fearfully in conversation, was most regular at church, and 
 regularly read to his family and domestics the morning and 
 evening prayer ; he bullied his daughters, seemed to bully his 
 wife, who led him whither she chose ; gave grand entertain- 
 ments, and never asked a friend by chance \ had splendid 
 liveries, and starved his people ; and was as dull, stingy, pom- 
 pous, insolent, cringing, ill-tempered a little creature as ever 
 was known. 
 
 With such qualities you may fancy that he was generally 
 admired in society and by his country. So he was: and I 
 never knew a man so endowed whose way through life was not 
 safe — who had fewer pangs of conscience — more positive en- 
 joyments—more respect shown to him — more favors granted to 
 him, than such a one as my friend the General. 
 
 Her ladyship was just suited to him, and they did in reality 
 admire each other hugely. Previously to her marriage with the 
 baronet, many love-passages had passed between her and William 
 Pitt Scully, Esq., the attorney ; and there was especially one 
 story, apropos of certain syllabubs and Sally-Lunn cakes, which 
 seemed to show that matters had gone very far. Be this as it 
 may, no sooner did the General (Major Gorgon he was then) 
 cast an eye on her, than Scully's five years' fabric of love was 
 instantly dashed to the ground. She cut him pitilessly, cut 
 Sally Scully, his sister, her dearest friend and confidante, and 
 bestowed her big person upon the little aide-de-camp at the 
 end of a fortnight's wooing. In the course of time, their mu- 
 tual fathers died ; the Gorgon estates were unencumbered : 
 patron of both the seats in the borough of Oldborough, and 
 occupant of one, Sir George Grimsby Gorgon, Baronet, was a 
 personage of no small importance. 
 
 He was, it scarcely need be said, a Tory ; and this was the 
 reason why William Pitt Scully, Esq., of the firm of Perkins 
 and Scully, deserted those principles in which he had been bred 
 and christened ; deserted that church which he had frequented, 
 
670 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 for he could not bear to see Sir George and my lady flaunting 
 in their grand pew \ — deserted, I say, the church, adopted the 
 conventicle, and became one of the most zealous and eloquent* 
 supporters that Freedom has known in our time. Scully, of 
 the house of Scully and Perkins, was a dangerous enemy. In 
 five years from that marriage, which snatched from the jilted 
 solicitor his heart's young affections, Sir George Gorgon found 
 that he must actually spend seven hundred pounds to keep his 
 two seats. At the next election, a Liberal was set up agamst 
 his man, and actually ran him hard • and finally, at the end of 
 eighteen years, the rejected Scully — the mean attorney — was 
 actually the first Member for Oldborough, Sir George Grimsby 
 Gorgon, Baronet, being only the second ! 
 
 The agony of that day cannot be imagined — the dreadful 
 curses of Sir George, who saw fifteen hundred a year robbed 
 from under his very nose — the religious resignation of my lady 
 — the hideous window-smashing that took place at the " Gor- 
 gon Arms/' and the discomfiture of the pelted Mayor and Cor- 
 poration. The very next Sunday, Scully was reconciled to the 
 church (or attended it in the morning, and the meeting twice 
 in the afternoon), and as Doctor Snorter uttered the prayer for 
 the High Court of Parliament, his eye — the eye of his whole 
 party — turned towards Lady Gorgon and Sir George in a most 
 unholy triumph. Sir George (who always stood during prayers, 
 like a military man) fairly sank down among the hassocks, and 
 Lady Gorgon was heard to sob as audibly as ever did little 
 beadle-belabored urchin. 
 
 Scully, when at Oldborough, came from that day forth to 
 church. " What," said he, " was it to him ? were we not all 
 brethren ? " Old Perkins, however, kept religiously to the 
 Squaretoes congregation. In fact, to tell the truth, this sub- 
 ject had been debated between the partners, who saw the ad- 
 vantage of courting both the Establishment and the Dissenters 
 — a manoeuvre which, I need not say, is repeated in almost 
 every country town in England, where a solicitor's house has 
 this kind of power and connection. 
 
 * Three months after this election came the races at Old- 
 borough, and the race-ball. Gorgon was so infuriated by his 
 defeat, that he gave u the Gorgon cup and cover," a matter of 
 fifteen pounds. Scully, " although anxious," as he wrote from 
 town, " anxious beyond measure to preserve the breed of horses 
 for which our beloved country has ever been famous, could at- 
 tend no such sports as these, which but too often degenerated 
 into vice." It was voted a shabby excuse. Lady Gorgon was 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 671 
 
 radiant in her barouche and four, and gladly became the pa- 
 troness of the ball that was to ensue ; and which all the gentry 
 and townspeople, Tory and Whig, were in the custom of attend- 
 ing. The ball took place on the last day of the races. On 
 that day, the walls of the market-house, the principal public 
 buildings, and the " Gorgon Arms Hotel " itself, were plastered 
 with the following — 
 
 " LETTER FROM OUR DISTINGUISHED REPRESENTATIVE, 
 WILLIAM P. SCULLY, ESQ., ETC., ETC. 
 
 " House of Commons, June I, 28 — . 
 
 " My dear Heeltap, — You know my opinion about horse- 
 racing, and though I blame neither you nor any brother English- 
 man who enjoys that manly sport, you will, I am sure, appre- 
 ciate the conscientious motives which induce me not to appear 
 among my friends and constituents on the festival on the 3d, 
 4th, and 5th instant. If /, however, cannot allow my name to 
 appear among your list of stewards, one&t least of the represen- 
 tatives of Oldborough has no such scruples. Sir George Gor- 
 gon is among you : and though I differ from that honorable 
 Baronet on more than one vital point, I am glad to think that he 
 is with you. A gentleman, a soldier, a man of property in the 
 county, how can he be better employed than in forwarding the 
 county's amusements, and in forwarding the happiness of all ? 
 
 " Had I no such scruples as those to which I have just 
 alluded, I must still have refrained from coming among yon. 
 Your great Oldborough common-drainage and inclosure bill 
 comes on to-morrow, and I shall be at my post, I am sure, if 
 Sir George Gorgon were here, he and I should on this occasion 
 vote side by side, and that party strife would be forgotten in 
 the object of our common interest — our dear native town, 
 
 "There is, however, another occasion at hand, in which I 
 shall be proud to meet him. Your ball is on the night of the 
 6th. Party forgotten — brotherly union — innocent mirth — ■ 
 beauty, our dear town's beauty, our daughters in the joy of their 
 expanding loveliness, our matrons in the exquisite contempla- 
 tion of their children's bliss, — can you, can I, can Whig or 
 Tory, can any Briton be indifferent to a scene like this, or re- 
 fuse to join in this heart-stirring festival ? If there be such let 
 them pardon me, — I, for one, my dear Heeltap, will be among, 
 you on Friday night, — ay, and hereby invite all pretty Tory 
 Misses, who are in want of a partner. 
 
 " I am here in the very midst of good things, you know 
 
672 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 and we old folks like a supper after a dance. Please to accept 
 a brace of bucks and a turtle, which come herewith. My wor- 
 thy colleague, who was so liberal last year of his soup to the 
 poor, will not, I trust, refuse to taste a little of Alderman Birch's 
 — 'tis offered on my part with hearty good-will. Hey for the 
 6th, and vive la joiet 
 
 " Ever, my dear Heeltap, your faithful 
 
 « w. Pitt Scully." 
 
 " P. S. — Of course this letter is strictly private. Say that 
 the venison, &c, came from a well-wisher to Oldborough" 
 
 This amazing letter was published, in defiance of Mr. 
 Scully's injunctions, by the enthusiastic Heeltap, who said 
 bluntly, in a preface, " that he saw no reason why Mr. Scully 
 should be ashamed of his action, and he for his part, was glad 
 to let all friends at Oldborough know of it." 
 
 The allusion about the Gorgon soup was killing : thirteen 
 paupers in Oldborough had, it was confidently asserted, died 
 of it. Lady Gorgon, on the reading of this letter, was struck 
 completely dumb ; Sir George Gorgon was wild. Ten dozen 
 of champagne was he obliged to send down to the " Gorgon 
 Arms," to be added to the festival. He would have stayed 
 away if he could, but he dared not. 
 
 At nine o'clock, he in general's uniform, his wife in blue 
 satin and diamonds, his daughters in blue crape and white 
 roses, his niece, Lucy Gorgon, in white muslin, his son, George 
 Augustus Frederick Grimsby Gorgon, in a blue velvet jacket, 
 sugar-loaf buttons, and nankeens, entered the north door of the 
 ball-room, to much cheering, and the sound of " God save the 
 King ! " 
 
 At that very same moment, and from the south door, issued 
 William Pitt Scully, Esq., and his staff. Mr. Scully had a bran- 
 new blue coat and brass buttons, buff waistcoat, white kersey- 
 mere tights, pumps with large rosettes, and pink silk stockings. 
 
 " This wool," said he to a friend, was grown on " Oldbor- 
 ough sheep, this cloth was spun in Oldborough looms, these 
 buttons were cast in an Oldborough manufactory, these shoes 
 were made by an Oldborough tradesman, this heart first beat in 
 Oldborough town, and pray heaven may be buried there ! " 
 
 Could anything resist a man like this ? John Perkins, who 
 had come down as one of Scully's aides-de-camp, in a fit of 
 generous enthusiasm, leaped on a whist-table, flung up a pocket- 
 handkerchief, and shrieked — " Scully forever ! " 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 673 
 
 Heeltap, who was generally drunk, fairly burst into tears, 
 and the grave tradesmen and Whig gentry, who had dined with 
 the Member at his inn, and accompanied him thence to the 
 " Gorgon Arms," lifted their deep voices and shouted " Hear ! " 
 " Good ! " " Bravo ! " " Noble ! " " Scully forever ! " " God 
 bless him ! " and " Hurrah ! " 
 
 The scene was tumultuously affecting ; and when young 
 Perkins sprang down from the table and came blushing up to 
 the Member, that gentleman said, " Thank you, Jack ! thank 
 you, my boy ! thank you," in a way which made Perkins think 
 that his supreme cup of bliss was quaffed ; that he had but to 
 die : for that life had no other such joy in store for him. 
 Scully was Perkins's Napoleon — he yielded himself up to the 
 attorney, body and soul. 
 
 Whilst this scene was going on under one chandelier of the 
 ball-room, beneath the other scarlet little General Gorgon, 
 sumptuous Lady Gordon, the daughters and niece Gorgons, 
 were standing surrounded by their Tory court, who affected to 
 sneer and titter at the Whig demonstrations which were taking 
 place. 
 
 " What a howwid thmell of whithkey ! " lisped Cornet 
 Fitch, of the Dragoons, to Miss Lucy, confidentially. " And 
 thethe are what they call Whigth, are they ? he ! he ! " 
 
 " They are drunk, me — drunk by ! " said the Gen- 
 eral to the Mayor. 
 
 " Which is Scully ? " said Lady Gorgon, lifting her glass 
 gravely (she was at that very moment thinking of the syllabubs). 
 " Is it that tipsy man in the green coat, or that vulgar creature 
 in the blue one ? " 
 
 " Law, my Lady," said the Mayoress, "have you forgotten 
 him ? Why, that's him in blue and buff." 
 
 " And a monthous fine man, too," said Cornet Fitch. " I 
 wish we had him in our twoop — he'th thix feet thwee, if he'th 
 an inch ; ain't he, Genewal." 
 
 No reply. 
 
 " And heavens ! mamma," shrieked the three Gorgons in a 
 breath, " see, one creature is on the whist-table. Oh, the 
 wretch ! " 
 
 " I'm sure he's very good-looking," said Lucy, simply. 
 
 Lady Gorgon darted at her an angry look, and was about 
 to say something very contemptuous, when, at that instant, 
 John Perkins's shout taking effect, Master George Augustus 
 Frederick Grimsby Gorgon, not knowing better, incontinently 
 raised a small shout on his side. 
 
674 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY: 
 
 " Hear ! good ! bravo ! " exclaimed he ; " Scully forever ! 
 Hurra-a-a-ay ! " and fell skipping about like the Whigs opposite. 
 
 " Silence, you brute you ? " groaned Lady Gorgon ; and 
 seizing him by the shirt-frill and coat-collar, carried him away 
 to his nurse, who, with many other maids of the Whig and 
 Tory parties, stood giggling and peeping at the landing-place. 
 
 Fancy how all these small incidents augmented the heap of 
 Lady Gorgon's anger and injuries ! She was a dull phlegmatic 
 woman for the most part, and contented herself generally with 
 merely despising her neighbors ; but oh ! what a fine active 
 hatred raged in her bosom for victorious Scully ! At this 
 moment Mr. Perkins had finished shaking hands with his 
 Napoleon — Napoleon seemed bent upon some tremendous 
 enterprise. He was looking at Lady Gorgon very hard. 
 
 "She's a fine woman," said Scully, thoughtfully; he was 
 still holding the hand of Perkins. And then, after a pause, 
 " Gad ! I think I'll try." 
 
 " Try what, sir ? " 
 
 " She's a deuced fine woman ! " burst out again the solicitor. 
 " I will go. Springer, tell the fiddler to strike up." 
 
 Springer scuttled across the room, and gave the leader of 
 the band a knowing nod. Suddenly, " God save the King " 
 ceased, and " Sir Roger cle Coverley " began. The rival forces 
 eyed each other ; Mr. Scully, accompanied by his friend, came 
 forward, looking very red, and fumbling two large kid-gloves. 
 
 " He 's going to ask me to dance" hissed out Lady Gorgon, 
 with a dreadful intuition, and she drew behind her lord. 
 
 " D it, Madam, the?i dance with him ! " said the General. 
 
 " Don't you see that the scoundrel is carrying it all his own way ! 
 
 him ! and him ! and him ! " (All of which dashes 
 
 the reader may fill up with oaths of such strength as may be 
 requisite.) 
 
 " General ! " cried Lady Gorgon, but could say no more. 
 Scully was before her. 
 
 " Madam ! " exclaimed the Liberal Member for Oldborough, 
 "in a moment like this — I say — that is — that on the present 
 occasion — your ladyship — unaccustomed as I am — pooh, psha — 
 will your ladyship give me the distinguished honor and pleasure 
 of going down the country-dance with your ladyship ? " 
 
 An immense heave of her ladyship's ample chest was per- 
 ceptible. Yards of blond lace, which might be compared to 
 a foam of the sea, were agitated at the same moment, and by 
 the same mighty emotion. The river of diamonds which flowed 
 round her ladyship's neck, seemed to swell and to shine more 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 675 
 
 than ever. The tall plumes on her ambrosial head bowed 
 down beneath the storm. In other words, Lady Gorgon, in a 
 furious rage, which she was compelled to restrain, trembled, 
 drew up, and bowing majestically said, — 
 
 " Sir, I shall have much pleasure." With this she extended 
 her hand. Scully, trembling, thrust forward one of his huge 
 kid-gloves, and led her to the head of the country-dance. John 
 Perkins — who I presume had been drinking pretty freely, so 
 as to have forgotten his ordinary bashfulness — looked at the 
 three Gorgons in blue, then at the pretty smiling one in white, 
 and stepping up to her, without the smallest hesitation, asked 
 her if she would dance with him. The young lady smilingly 
 agreed. The great example of Scully and Lady Gorgon was 
 followed by all dancing men and women. Political enmities 
 were forgotten. Whig voters invited Tory voters' wives to the 
 dance. The daughters of Reform accepted the hands of the 
 sons of Conservatism. The reconciliation of the Romans and 
 Sabines was not more touching than this sweet fusion. Whack 
 — whack ! Mr. Springer clapped his hands ; and the fiddlers 
 adroitly obeying the cheerful signal, began playing " Sir Roger 
 de Coverley " louder than ever. 
 
 I do not know by what extraordinary charm (nescio qua 
 prater solitum, but young Perkins, who all his life had 
 
 hated country-dances, was delighted with this one, and skipped 
 and laughed, poussetting, crossing, down-the-middling, with his 
 merry little partner, till every one of the bettermost sort of the 
 thirty-nine couples had dropped panting away, and till the 
 youngest Miss Gorgon, coming up to his partner said, in a loud, 
 hissing, scornful whisper, " Lucy, mamma thinks you have 
 danced quite enough with this — this person." And Lucy, blush- 
 ing, starting back, and looking at Perkins in a very melancholy 
 way, made him a little curtsey, and went off to the Gor- 
 gonian party with her cousin. Perkins was too frightened to 
 lead her back to her place — too frightened at first, and then too 
 angry. " Person ! " said he : his soul swelled with a desperate 
 republicanism : he went back to his patron more of a radical 
 than ever. 
 
 He found that gentleman in the solitary tea-room, pacing 
 up and down before the observant landlady and handmaidens 
 of the " Gorgon Arms," wiping his brows, gnawing his fingers 
 — his ears looming over his stiff white shirt-collar as red as fire. 
 Once more the great man seized John Perkins's hand as the 
 latter came up. 
 
 " D the aristocrats ! " roared the ex-follower of Square* 
 
 toes. 
 
676 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 " And so say I ; but what's the matter, sir ? " 
 
 " What's the matter? — Why that woman — that infernal 
 haughty, straight-laced, cold-blooded brewer's daughter ! I 
 loved that woman, sir — I kissed that woman sir, twenty years 
 ago : we were all but engaged, sir : we've walked for hours and 
 hours, sir — us and the governess — I've got a lock of her hair, 
 sir, among my papers now ; and to-night, would you believe it ? 
 — as soon as she got to the bottom of the set, away she went — 
 not one word would she speak to me all the way down : and 
 when I wanted to lead her to her place, and asked her if she 
 would have a glass of negus, i Sir,' says she, 6 1 have done my 
 duty ; I bear no malice : but I consider you a traitor to Sir 
 George Gorgon's family — a traitor and an upstart ! I consider 
 your speaking to me as a piece of insolent vulgarity, and beg 
 you will leave me to myself ! ' There's her speech, sir. Twenty 
 people heard it, and all her Tory set too. I'll tell you what, 
 Jack : at the next election I'll put you up. Oh that woman ! 
 that woman ! — and to think that I love her still ! " Here Mr. 
 Scully paused, and fiercely consoled himself by swallowing 
 three cups of Mrs. Rincer's green tea. 
 
 The fact is, that Lady Gorgon's passion had completely got 
 the better of her reason. Her ladyship was naturally cold and 
 artificially extremely squeamish ; and when this great red-faced 
 enemy of hers looked tenderly at her through his little red eyes, 
 and squeezed her hand and attempted to renew the old ac- 
 quaintance, she felt such an intolerable disgust at his triumph, 
 at his familiarity, and at the remembrance of her own former 
 liking for him, that she gave utterance to the speech above 
 correctly reported. The Tories were delighted with her spirit, 
 and Cornet Fitch, with much glee, told the story to the General ; 
 but that officer, who was at whist with some of his friends, flung 
 down his cards, and coming up to his lady, said briefly, 
 
 " Madam, you are a fool ! " 
 
 " I will not stay here to be bearded by that disgusting man ! 
 — Mr. Fitch, call my people. — Henrietta, bring Miss Lucy from 
 that linendraper with whom she is dancing. I will not stay, 
 General, once for all." 
 
 Henrietta ran — she hated her cousin ; Cornet Fitch was 
 departing. " Stop, Fitch," said Sir George, seizing him by the 
 arm. " You are a fool, Lady Gorgon, said he, " and I repeat 
 
 it — a fool ! This fellow Scully is carrying all before him ; 
 
 he has talked with everybody — and you, with your infernal 
 
 airs — a brewer's daughter, by -, must sit like a queen and 
 
 not speak to a soul ! You've lost me one seat of my borough, 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 677 
 
 with your infernal pride — fifteen hundred a year, by Jove ! — 
 and you think you will bully me out of another. No, Madam, 
 you shall stay, and stay supper too ; — and the girls shall dance 
 with every cursed chimney-sweep and butcher in the room, 
 they shall — confound me ! " 
 
 Her ladyship saw that it was necessary to submit ; and Mr. 
 Springer, the master of the ceremonies, was called, and re- 
 quested to point out some eligible partners for the young ladies. 
 One went off with a Whig auctioneer ; another figured in a 
 quadrille with a very Liberal apothecary, and the third, Miss 
 Henrietta, remained. 
 
 " Hallo you, sir ! " roared the little General to John Perkins, 
 who was passing by. John turned round and faced him. 
 
 " You were dancing with my niece just now — show us your 
 skill now, and dance with one of my daughters. Stand up, Miss 
 Henrietta Gorgon — Mr. What's-your-name ? " 
 
 " My name/' said John, with marked and majestic emphasis, 
 "is Perkins." And he looked towards Lucy, who dared not 
 look again. 
 
 " Miss Gorgon — Mr. Perkins. There now go and dance." 
 
 " Mr. Perkins regrets, Madam," said John, making a bow 
 to Miss Henrietta, " that he is not able to dance this evening. 
 I am this moment obliged to look to the supper ; but you will 
 find, no doubt, some other person who will have much pleas- 
 ure." 
 
 " Go to , sir ! " screamed the General, starting up, and 
 
 shaking his cane. 
 
 " Calm yourself, dearest George," said Lady Gorgon, cling- 
 ing fondly to him. Fitch twiddled his mustache. Miss Hen- 
 rietta Gorgon stared with open mouth. The silks of the sur- 
 rounding dowagers rustled — the countenances of all looked 
 grave. 
 
 " I will follow you, sir, wherever you please ; and you may 
 hear of me whenever you like," said Mr. Perkins, bowing and 
 retiring. He heard little Lucy sobbing in a corner. He was 
 lost at once — lost in love ; he felt as if he could combat fifty 
 generals ! he never was so happy in his life ! 
 
 The supper came ; but as that meal cost five shillings a 
 head, General Gorgon dismissed the four spinsters of his family 
 homewards in the carriage, and so saved himself a pound. 
 This added to Jack Perkins's wrath ; he had hoped to have 
 seen Miss Lucy once more. He was a steward, and, in the 
 General's teeth, would have done his duty. He was thinking 
 how he would have helped her to the most delicate chicken- 
 
678 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 wings and blancmanges, how he would have made her take 
 champagne. Under the noses of indignant aunt and uncle, 
 what glorious fun it would have been ! 
 
 Out of place as Mr. Scully's present was, and though Lady 
 Gorgon and her party sneered at the vulgar notion of venison 
 and turtle for supper, all the world at Oldborough ate very 
 greedily of those two substantial dishes ; and the Mayor's wife 
 became from that day forth a mortal enemy of the Gorgons : 
 for, sitting near her ladyship, who refused the proffered soup 
 and meat, the Mayoress thought herself obliged to follow this 
 disagreeable example. She sent away the plate of turtle with 
 a sigh, saying, however, to the baronet's lady, " I thought, 
 Mem, that the Lord Mayor of London always had turtle to his 
 supper ? " 
 
 " And what if he didn't, Biddy ? " said his Honor the 
 Mayor ; " a good thing's a good thing, and here goes ! " 
 wherewith he plunged his spoon into the savory mess. The 
 Mayoress, as we have said, dared not ; but she hated Lady 
 Gorgon, and remembered it at the next election. 
 
 The pride, in fact, and insolence of the Gorgon party ren- 
 dered every person in the room hostile to them ; so soon as, 
 gorged with meat, they began to find that courage which Britons 
 invariably derive from their victuals. The show of the Gorgon 
 plate seemed to offend the people. The Gorgon champagne 
 was a long time, too, in making its appearance. Arrive, how- 
 ever, it did. The people were waiting for it • the young ladies, 
 not accustomed to that drink, declined pledging their admirers 
 until it was produced ; the men, too, despised the bucellas and 
 sherry, and were looking continually towards the door. At 
 last, Mr. Rincer, the landlord, Mr. Hock, Sir George's butler, 
 and sundry others entered the room. Bang ! went the corks — 
 fizz the foamy liquor sparkled into all sorts of glasses that were 
 held out for its reception. Mr. Hock helped Sir George and 
 his party, who drank with great gusto ; the wine which w r as 
 administered to the persons immediately around Mr. Scully 
 was likewise pronounced to be good. But Mr. Perkins, who 
 had taken his seat among the humbler individuals, and in the 
 very middle of the table, observed that all these persons, after 
 drinking, made to each other very wry and ominous faces, and 
 whispered much. He tasted his wine : it was a villanous com- 
 pound of sugar, vitriol, soda-water, and green gooseberries. At 
 this moment a great clatter of forks was made by the presi- 
 dent's and vice-president's party. Silence for a toast — 'twas 
 silence all. 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 679 
 
 "Landlord," said Mr. Perkins, starting up (the rogue, 
 where did his impudence come from ?) " have you any cham- 
 pagne of your own ? " 
 
 " Silence ! down ! " roared the Tories, the ladies looking 
 aghast. " Silence, sit down you ! " shrieked the well-known 
 voice of the General. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, General," said young John Perkins ; 
 " but where could you have bought this champagne ? My 
 worthy friend I know is going to propose the ladies ; let us at 
 any rate drink such a toast in good wine." (" Hear, hear ! ") 
 " Drink her ladyship's health in this stuff ? I declare to good- 
 ness I would sooner drink it in beer ! " 
 
 No pen can describe the uproar which arose : the anguish 
 of the Gorgonites — the shrieks, jeers, ironic cries of " Swipes ! " 
 &c, which proceeded from the less genteel but more enthusi- 
 astic Scullyites. 
 
 " This vulgarity is too much," said Lady Gorgon, rising ; 
 and Mrs. Mayoress and the ladies of the party did so too. 
 
 The General, two squires, the clergyman, the Gorgon apoth- 
 ecary and attorney, with their respective ladies, followed her : 
 they were plainly beaten from the field. Such of the Tories as 
 dared remained, and in inglorious compromise shared the jovial 
 Whig feast. 
 
 " Gentlemen and ladies," hiccoughed Mr. Heeltap, " I'll give 
 you a toast. ' Champagne to our real — hie — friends,' no, 
 4 Real Champagne to our friends,' and — hie — pooh ! 6 Cham- 
 pagne to our friends, and real pain to our enemies,' — huzzay ! " 
 
 The Scully faction on. this day bore the victory away, and 
 if the polite reader has been shocked by certain vulgarities on 
 the part of Mr. Scully and his friends, he must remember 
 imprimis that Oldborough was an inconsiderable place — that 
 the inhabitants thereof were chiefly tradespeople, not of refined 
 habits — that Mr. Scully himself had only for three months 
 mingled among the aristocracy — that his young friend Perkins 
 was violently angry — and finally, and to conclude, that the 
 proud vulgarity of the great Sir George Gorgon and his family 
 were infinitely more odious and contemptible than the mean 
 vulgarity of the Scullyites and their leader. . 
 
 Immediately after this event, Mr. Scully and his young 
 friend Perkins returned to town ; the latter to his garrets in 
 Bedford Row — the former to his apartments on the first floor 
 of the same house. He lived here to superintend his legal 
 business : his London agents, Messrs. Higgs, Biggs & Blather- 
 wick, occupying the ground floor; the junior partner, Mr. 
 
68o 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Gustavus Blatherwick, the second flat of the house. Scully 
 made no secret of his profession or residence ; he was an attor- 
 ney, and proud of it ; he was the grandson of a laborer, and 
 thanked God for it ; he had made his fortune by his own hon- 
 est labor, and why should he be ashamed of it ? 
 
 And now, having explained at full length who the several 
 heroes and heroines of this history were, and how they con- 
 ducted themselves in the country, let us describe their behavior 
 in London, and the great events which occurred there. 
 
 You must know that Mr. Perkins bore away the tenderest 
 recollections of the young lady with whom he had danced at 
 the Oldborough ball, and, having taken particular care to find 
 out where she dwelt when in the metropolis, managed soon to 
 become acquainted with aunt Biggs, and made himself so amia- 
 ble to that lady, that she begged he would pass all his disen- 
 gaged evenings at her lodgings in Caroline Place. Mrs. Biggs 
 was perfectly aware that the young gentleman did not come 
 for her bohea and muffins, so much as for the sweeter conver- 
 sation of her niece, Miss Gorgon ; but seeing that these two 
 young people were of an age when ideas of love and marriage 
 will spring up, do what you will ; seeing that her niece had a 
 fortune, and Mr. Perkins had the prospect of a place, and was 
 moreover a very amiable and well-disposed young fellow, she 
 thought her niece could not do better than marry him • and 
 Miss Gorgon thought so too. Now the public will be able to 
 understand the meaning of that important conversation which 
 is recorded at the very commencement of this history. 
 
 Lady Gorgon and her family were likewise in town ; but, 
 when in the metropolis, they never took notice of their relative, 
 Miss Lucy : the idea of acknowledging an ex-schoolmistress 
 living in Mecklenburgh Square being much too preposterous 
 for a person of my Lady Gorgon's breeding and fashion. She 
 did not, therefore, know of the progress which sly Perkins was 
 making all this while ; for Lucy Gorgon did not think it was at 
 all necessary to inform her ladyship how deeply she was smitten 
 by the wicked young gentleman who had made all the disturb- 
 ance at the Oldborough ball. 
 
 The intimacy of these young persons had, in fact, become so 
 close, that on a certain sunshiny Sunday in December, after 
 having accompanied aunt Biggs to church, they had pursued 
 their walk as far as that rendezvous of lovers, the Regent's Park, 
 and were talking of their coming marriage with much confi- 
 dential tenderness, before the bears in the Zoological Gardens. 
 Miss Lucy was ever and anon feeding those interesting 
 
THE B EDFORD-R O W CONSPIRA CY. 68 1 
 
 animals with buns, to perform which act of charity she had 
 clambered up on the parapet which surrounds their den. Mr. 
 Perkins was below ; and Miss Lucy, having distributed her 
 buns, was on the point of following, — but whether from timid- 
 ity, or whether from a desire to do young Perkins an essential 
 service, I know not : however, she found herself quite unwill- 
 ing to jump down unaided. 
 
 " My dearest John,'' said she, " I never can jump that." 
 
 Whereupon, John stepped up, put one hand round Lucy's 
 waist : and as one of hers gently fell upon his shoulder, Mr. 
 Perkins took the other and said, — 
 
 " Now jump." 
 
 Hoop ! jump she did, and so excessively active and clever 
 was Mr. John Perkins, that he jumped Miss Lucy plump into 
 the middle of a group formed of 
 
 Lady Gorgon, 
 
 The Misses Gorgon, 
 
 Master George Augustus Frederick Grimsby Gorgon, 
 And a footman, poodle, and French governess : who had 
 
 all been for two or three minutes listening to the billings and 
 
 cooings of these imprudent young lovers. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SHOWS HOW THE PLOT BEGAN TO THICKEN IN OR ABOUT 
 
 BEDFORD ROW. 
 
 " Miss Lucy ! " 
 
 " Upon my word ! " 
 
 " I'm hanged if it arn't Lucy ! How do, Lucy ? " uttered 
 Lady, the Misses, and Master Gorgon in a breath. 
 
 Lucy came forward, bending down her ambrosial curls, and 
 blushing, as a modest young woman should • for, in truth, the 
 scrape was very awkward. And as for John Perkins, he made 
 a start, and then a step forwards, and then two backwards, and 
 then began laying hands upon his black satin stock — in short, 
 the sun did not shine at that moment upon a man who looked 
 so exquisitely foolish. 
 
 " Miss Lucy Gorgon, is your aunt — is Mrs. Briggs here ? " 
 said Lady Gorgon, drawing herself up with much state. 
 
682 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 " Mrs. Biggs, aunt," said Lucy demurely. 
 
 " Biggs or Briggs, madam, it is not of the slightest conse- 
 quence. I presume that persons in my rank of life are not 
 expected to know everybody's name in Magdeburg Square ? " 
 (Lady Gorgon had a house in Baker Street, and a dismal house 
 it was.) "Atf/here," continued she, rightly interpreting Lucy's 
 silence, " not here ? — and may I ask how long is it that young 
 ladies have been allowed to walk abroad without chaperons, 
 and to — to take a part in such scenes as that which we have 
 just seen acted ? " 
 
 To this question — and indeed it was rather difficult 'to 
 answer — Miss Gorgon had no reply. There were the six gray 
 eyes of her cousins glowering at her ; there w r as George Augus- 
 tus Frederick examining her with an air of extreme wonder, 
 Mademoiselle the governess turning her looks demurely away, 
 and awful Lady Gorgon glancing fiercely at her in front. Not 
 mentioning the footman and poodle, what could a poor modest, 
 timid girl plead before such an inquisition, especially when she 
 was clearly guilty? Add to this, that as Lady Gorgon, that* 
 majestic woman, always remarkable for her size and insolence 
 of demeanor, had planted herself in the middle of the path, and 
 spoke at the extreme pitch of her voice, many persons walking 
 in the neighborhood had heard her ladyship's speech and 
 stopped, and seemed disposed to await the rejoinder. 
 
 " For heaven's sake, aunt, don't draw a crowd around us," 
 said Lucy, who, indeed, was glad of the only escape that lay in 
 her power. " I will tell you of the — of the circumstance of — ■ 
 of my engagement with this gentleman — with Mr. Perkins," 
 added she, in a softer tone — so soft that the ^erkins was quite 
 inaudible. 
 
 " A Mr. What ? An engagement without consulting your 
 guardians ! " screamed her ladyship. " This must be looked 
 to ! Jerningham, call round my carriage. Mademoiselle, you 
 will have the goodness to walk home with Master Gorgon, and 
 carry him, if you please, where there is wet ; and, girls, as the 
 day is fine, you will do likewise. Jerningham, you will attend 
 the young ladies. Miss Gorgon, I will thank you to follow me 
 immediately." And so saying, and looking at the crowd with 
 ineffable scorn, and at Mr. Perkins not at all, the lady bustled 
 away forwards, the files of Gorgon daughters and governess 
 closing round and enveloping poor Lucy, who found herself 
 carried forward against her will, and in a minute seated in her 
 aunt's coach, along with that tremendous person. 
 
 Her case was bad enough, but what was it to Perkins's ? 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 683 
 
 Fancy his blank surprise and rage at having his love thus sud- 
 denly ravished from him, and his delicious tete-a-tete interrupted. 
 He managed, in an inconceivable short space of time, to con- 
 jure up half a million obstacles to his union. What should he 
 do ? he would rush on to Baker Street, and wait there until his 
 Lucy left Lady Gorgon's house. 
 
 He could find no vehicle for him in the Regent's Park, and 
 was in consequence obliged to make his journey on foot. Of 
 course, he nearly killed himself with running, and ran so quick, 
 that he was just m time to see the two ladies step out of I^ady 
 Gorgon's carriage at her own house, and to hear Jerningham's 
 fellow-footman roar to the Gorgonian coachman, " Half-past 
 seven ! " at which hour we are, to this day, convinced that 
 Lady Gorgon was going out to dine. Mr. Jerningham's asso- 
 ciate having banged to the door, with an insolent look towards 
 Perkins, who was prying in with the most suspicious and inde- 
 cent curiosity, retired, exclaiming, " That chap has a hi to our 
 great-coats, I reckon ! " and left John Perkins to pace the street 
 and be miserable, 
 
 John Perkins then walked resolutely up and down dismal 
 Baker Street, determined on an eclaircisse?nent. He was for 
 some time occupied in thinking how it was that the Gorgons 
 were not at church, they who made such a parade of piety ; and 
 John Perkins smiled as he passed the chapel, and saw that two 
 charity sermons were to be preached that day — and therefore it 
 was that General Gorgon read prayers to his family at home in 
 the morning. 
 
 Perkins, at last, saw that little General, in blue frock-coat 
 and spotless buff gloves, saunter scowling home ; and half an 
 hour before his arrival, had witnessed the entrance of Jerning- 
 ham, and the three gaunt Miss Gorgons, poodle, son-and-heir, 
 and French governess, protected by him, into Sir George's 
 mansion. 
 
 " Can she be going to stay all night ? " mused poor John, 
 after being on the watch for three hours : " that footman is 
 the only person who has left the house : " when presently, 
 to his inexpressible delight, he saw a very dirty hackney-coach 
 clatter up to the Gorgon door, out of which first issued the 
 ruby plush breeches and stalwart calves of Mr. Jerningham ; 
 these were followed by his body, and then the gentleman, ring- 
 ing modestly, was admitted. 
 
 Again the door opened : a lady came out, nor was she fol- 
 lowed by the footman, who crossed his legs at the door-post 
 and allowed her to mount the jingling vehicle as best she might. 
 
684 THE XEDFORV-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Mr. Jerningham had witnessed the scene in the Park Gardens, 
 had listened to the altercation through the library keyhole, and 
 had been mighty sulky at being ordered to call a coach for this 
 young woman. He did not therefore deign to assist her to 
 mount. 
 
 But there was one who did ! Perkins was by the side of his 
 Lucy : he had seen her start back and cry, " La, John ! " — had 
 felt her squeeze his arm — had mounted with her into the coach, 
 and then shouted with a voice of thunder to the coachman, 
 " Caroline Place, Mecklenburgh Square." 
 
 But Mr. Jerningham would have been much more surprised 
 and puzzled if he had waited one minute longer, and seen this 
 Mr. Perkins, who had so gallantly escaladed the hackney-coach, 
 step out of it with the most mortified, miserable, chop-fallen 
 countenance possible. 
 
 The fact is, he had found poor Lucy sobbing fit to break her 
 heart, and instead of consoling her, as he expected, he only 
 seemed to irritate her further : for she said, " Mr. Perkins — I 
 beg — I insist, that you leave the carriage. " And when Perkins 
 made some movement (which, not being in the vehicle at the 
 time, we have never been able to comprehend), she suddenly 
 sprang from the back seat and began pulling at a large piece of 
 cord which communicated with the wrist of the gentleman driv- 
 ing ; and, screaming to him at the top of her voice, bade him 
 immediately stop. 
 
 This Mr. Coachman did, with a curious, puzzled, grinning 
 
 air. 
 
 Perkins descended, and on being asked, " Vere ham I to 
 drive the young 'oman, sir ? " I am sorry to say muttered some- 
 thing like an oath, and uttered the above-mentioned words, 
 " Caroline Place, Mecklenburgh Square," in a tone which I 
 should be inclined to describe as both dogged and sheepish, — 
 very different from that cheery voice which he had used when 
 he first gave the order. 
 
 Poor Lucy, in the course of those fatal three hours which had 
 passed while Mr. Perkins was pacing up and down Baker Street, 
 had received a lecture which lasted exactly one hundred and 
 eighty minutes — from her aunt first, then from her uncle, whom 
 we have seen marching homewards, and often from both to- 
 gether. 
 
 Sir George Gorgon and his lady poured out such a flood of 
 advice and abuse against the poor girl, that she came away from 
 the interview quite timid and cowering ; and when she saw John 
 Perkins (the sly rogue ! how well he thought he had managed 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 685 
 
 the trick !) she shrunk from him as if he had been a demon of 
 wickedness, ordered him out of the carriage, and went home by 
 herself, convinced that she had committed some tremendous 
 sin. 
 
 While, then, her coach jingled away to Caroline Place, 
 Perkins, once more alone, bent his steps in the same direction. 
 A desperate, heart-stricken man, he passed by the beloved's 
 door, saw lights in the front drawing-room, felt probably that 
 she was there ; but he could not go in. Moodily he paced down 
 Doughty Street, and turning abruptly into Bedford Row, rushed 
 into his own chambers, where Mrs. Snooks, the laundress, had 
 prepared his humble Sabbath meal. 
 
 A cheerful fire blazed in his garret, and Mrs. Snooks had 
 prepared for him the favorite blade-bone he loved (blest four- 
 days' dinner for a bachelor — roast, cold, hashed, grilled blade- 
 bone, the fourth being better than the first) ; but although he 
 usually did rejoice in this meal — ordinarily, indeed, grumbling 
 that there was not enough to satisfy him — he, on this occasion, 
 after two mouthfuls, flung down his knife and fork, and buried 
 his two claws in his hair. 
 
 " Snooks," said he at last, very moodily, " remove this d 
 
 mutton, give me my writing things, and some hot brandy-and- 
 water." 
 
 This was done without much alarm : for you must know that 
 Perkins used to dabble in poetry, and ordinarily prepared him- 
 self for composition by this kind of stimulus. 
 
 He wrote hastily a few lines. 
 
 " Snooks, put on your bonnet," said he, " and carry tnis — 
 you know where /" he added, in a hollow, heart-breaking tone 
 of voice, that affected poor Snooks almost to tears. She went 
 however, with the note, which was to this purpose : — 
 
 " Lucy ! Lucy ! my soul's love — what, what has happened ? 
 I am writing this " — (a gulp of brandy-and-water) — " in a state 
 bordering on distraction — madness — insanity " {another). 
 " Why did you send me out of the coach in that cruel, cruel 
 way ? Write to me a word, a line — tell me, tell me, I may come 
 to you — and leave me not in this agonizing condition ; your 
 faithful " (glog—glog — glog — the whole glass) 
 
 "J. P." 
 
 He never signed John Perkins in full— he couldn't, it was so 
 un romantic. 
 
 Well, this missive was despatched by Mrs. Snooks, and 
 
686 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Perkins, in a fearful state of excitement, haggard, wild, and with 
 more brandy-and-water, awaited the return of his messenger. 
 
 When at length, after about an absence of forty years, as it 
 seemed to him, the old lady returned with a large packet, 
 Perkins seized it with a trembling hand, and was yet more 
 frightened to see the handwriting of Mrs. or Miss Biggs. 
 
 " My Dear Mr. Perkins," she began — " Although I am not 
 your soul's adored, I performed her part for once, since I have 
 read your letter, as I told her. You need not be very much 
 alarmed, although Lucy is at this moment in bed and unwell : 
 for the poor girl has had a sad scene at her grand uncle's house 
 in Baker Street, and came home very much affected. Rest, 
 however, will restore her, for she is not one of your nervous 
 sort ; and I hope when you come in the morning, you will see 
 her as blooming as she was when you went out to-day on that 
 unlucky walk. 
 
 " See what Sir George Gorgon says of us all ! You won't 
 challenge him, I know, as he is to be your uncle, and so I may 
 show you his letter. 
 
 " Good-night, my dear John. Do not go quite distracted 
 before morning ; and believe me your loving aunt, 
 
 " Jemima Biggs." 
 
 " Baker Street \ nth December. 
 
 " Major-General Sir George Gorgon has heard with the 
 utmost disgust and surprise of the engagement which Miss 
 Lucy Gorgon has thought fit to form. 
 
 " The Major-General cannot conceal his indignation at the 
 share which Miss Biggs has taken in this disgraceful transac- 
 tion. 
 
 " Sir George Gorgon puts an absolute veto upon all further 
 communication between his niece and the low-born adventurer 
 who has been admitted into her society, and begs to say that 
 Lieutenant Fitch, of the Lifeguards, is the gentleman who he 
 intends shall marry Miss Gorgon. 
 
 " It is the Major-General's wish, that on the 28th Miss 
 Gorgon should be ready to come to his house, in Baker Street, 
 where she will be more safe from impertinent intrusions than 
 she has been in Mucklebury Square. 
 
 " Mrs. Biggs, 
 
 " Caroline Place, 
 
 " Mecklenburgh Square." 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 687 
 
 When poor John Perkins read this epistle, blank rage and 
 wonder rilled his soul, at the audacity of the little General, who 
 thus, without the smallest title in the world, pretended to dis- 
 pose of the hand and fortune of his niece. The fact is, that 
 Sir George had such a transcendent notion of his own dignity 
 and station, that it never for a moment entered his head that 
 his niece, or anybody else connected with him, should take a 
 single step in life without previously receiving his orders ; and. 
 Mr. Fitch, a baronet's son, having expressed an admiration of 
 Lucy, Sir George had determined that his suit should be ac- 
 cepted, and really considered Lucy's preference of another as 
 downright treason. 
 
 John Perkins determined on the death of Fitch as the very 
 least reparation that should satisfy him ; and vowed too that 
 some of the General's blood should be shed for the words 
 which he had dared to utter. 
 
 We have said that William Pitt Scully, Esq., M.P., occupied 
 the first floor of Mr. Perkins's house, in Bedford Row ; and the 
 reader is further to be informed that an immense friendship 
 had sprung up between these two gentlemen. The fact is, that 
 poor John was very much flattered by Scully's notice, and 
 began in a very short time to fancy himself a political person- 
 age ; for he had made several of Scully's speeches, written 
 more than one letter from him to his constituents, and, in .a 
 word, acted as his gratis clerk. At least a guinea a week did 
 Mr. Perkins save to the pockets of Mr. Scully, and with hearty 
 good will too, for he adored the great William Pitt, and be- 
 lieved every word that dropped from the pompous lips of that 
 gentleman. 
 
 Well, after having discussed Sir George Gorgon's letter, 
 poor Perkins, in the utmost fury of mind that his darling should 
 be slandered so, feeling a desire for fresh air, determined to 
 descend to the garden and smoke a cigar in that rural, quiet 
 spot. The night was very calm. The moonbeams slept softly 
 upon the herbage of Gray's Inn gardens, and bathed with silver 
 splendor Theobald's Row. A million of little frisky twinkling 
 stars attended their queen, who looked with bland round face 
 upon their gambols, as they peeped in and out from the azure 
 heavens. Along Gray's Inn wall a lazy row of cabs stood list- 
 lessly, for who would call a cab on such a night ? Meanwhile 
 their drivers, at the alehouse near, smoked the short pipe or 
 quaffed the foaming beer. Perhaps from Gray's Inn Lane some 
 broken sounds of Irish revelry might rise. Issuing perhaps 
 from Raymond Buildings gate, six lawyers' clerks might whoop 
 
688 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 a tipsy song — or the loud watchman yell the passing hour ; but 
 beyond this all was silence ; and young Perkins, as he sat in 
 the summer-house at the bottom of the garden, and contem- 
 plated the peaceful heaven, felt some influences of it entering 
 into his soul, and almost forgetting revenge, thought but of 
 peace and love. 
 
 Presently, he was aware there was some one else pacing the 
 garden. Who could it be ? — Not Blatherwick, for he passed 
 the Sabbath with his grandmamma at Clapham ; not Scully 
 surely, for he always went to Bethesda Chapel, and to a select 
 prayer-meeting afterwards. Alas ! it was Scully : for though 
 that gentleman said that he went to chapel, we have it for a 
 fact that he did not always keep his promise, and was at this 
 moment employed in rehearsing an extempore speech, which he 
 proposed to deliver at St. Stephen's. 
 
 '* Had I, sir," spouted he, with folded arms, slowly pacing 
 to and fro — " Had I, sir, entertained the smallest possible inten- 
 tion of adressing the House on the present occasion — hum, on 
 the present occasion — I would have endeavored to prepare 
 myself in a way that should have at least shown, my sense of 
 the greatness of the subject before the House's consideration, 
 and the nature of the distinguished audience I have the honor 
 to address. I am, sir, a plain man — born of the people — my- 
 self one of the people, having won, thank heaven, an honorable 
 fortune and position by my own honest labor ; and standing 
 
 here as I do — 
 
 # # * * * » 
 
 Here Mr. Scully (it may be said that he never made a 
 speech without bragging about himself : and an excellent plan 
 it is, for people cannot help believing you at last) — here, I say, 
 Mr. Scully, who had one arm raised, felt himself suddenly tipped 
 on the shoulder, and heard a voice saying, " Your money or 
 your life ! " 
 
 The honorable gentleman twirled round as if he had been 
 shot ; the papers on which a great part of this impromptu was 
 written dropped from his lifted hand, and some of them were 
 actually born on the air into neighboring gardens. The man 
 was, in fact, in the direst fright. 
 
 " It's only I," said Perkins, with rather a forced laugh, when 
 he saw the effect that his wit had produced. 
 
 " Only you ! And pray what the dev what right have 
 
 you to — to come upon a man of my rank in that way, and dis- 
 turb me in the midst of very important meditations ? " asked 
 Mr. Scully, beginning to grow fierce. 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 689 
 
 "I want your advice," said Perkins, "on a matter of the 
 very greatest importance to me. You know my idea of marry- 
 ing?" 
 
 " Marry ! " said Scully ; " I thought you had given up that 
 silly scheme. And how, pray, do you intend to live ? " 
 
 " Why, my intended has a couple of hundreds a year, and my 
 clerkship in the Tape and Sealing-Wax office will be as much 
 more." 
 
 " Clerkship — Tape and Sealing-Wax Office — Government 
 sinecure ! — Why, good heavens ! John Perkins, you don't tell 
 me that you are going to accept any such thing ? " 
 
 " It is a very small salary, certainly," said John, who had a 
 decent notion of his own merits ; " but consider, six months' 
 vacation, two hours in the day, and those spent over the news- 
 papers. After all, it's " 
 
 " After all it's a swindle," roared out Mr. Scully — " a swin- 
 dle upon the country ; an infamous tax upon the people, who 
 starve that you may fatten in idleness. But take this clerkship 
 in the Tape and Sealing-Wax Office," continued the patriot, his 
 bosom heaving with noble indignation, and his eye flashing the 
 purest fire, — " Take this clerkship, John Perkins, and sanction 
 tyranny, by becoming one of its agents ; sanction dishonesty by 
 sharing in its plunder — do this, but never more be friend of 
 . mine. Had I a child," said the patriot, clasping his hands and 
 raising his eyes to heaven, " I would rather see him dead, sir — » 
 dead, dead at my feet, than the servant of a Government which 
 all honest men despise." And here, giving a searching glance 
 at Perkins, Mr. Scully began tramping up and down the garden 
 in a perfect fury. 
 
 " Good heavens ! " exclaimed the timid John Perkins — 
 " don't say so. My dear Mr. Scully, I'm not the dishonest 
 character you suppose me to be — I never looked at the matter 
 in this light. I'll — I'll consider of it. I'll tell Crampton that 
 I will give up the place ; but for heaven's sake, don't let me for- 
 feit your friendship, which is dearer tome than any place in the 
 world." 
 
 Mr. Scully pressed his hand, and said nothing : and though 
 their interview lasted a full half hour longer, during which they 
 paced up and down the gravel walk, we shall not breathe a 
 single syllable of their conversation, as it has nothing to do with 
 our tale. 
 
 The next morning, after an interview with Miss Lucy, John 
 Perkins, Esq., was seen to issue from Mrs. Biggs' house, look- 
 
690 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY, 
 
 ing particularly pale, melancholy, and thoughtful \ and he did 
 not stop until he reached a certain door in Downing Street, 
 where was the office of a certain great Minister, and the offices 
 of the clerks in his lordship's department. 
 
 The head of them was Mr. Josiah Crampton, who has now 
 to be introduced to the public. He was a little old gentleman, 
 some sixty years of age, maternal uncle to John Perkins ; a 
 bachelor, who had been about forty-two years employed in the 
 department of which he was now the head. 
 
 After waiting for hours in an ante-room, where a number of 
 Irishmen, some newspaper editors, many pompous-looking 
 political personages asking for the "first lord," a few sauntering 
 clerks, and numbers of swift active messengers passed to and 
 fro ; — after waiting for four hours, making drawings on the 
 blotting-book, and reading the Morning Post for that day week, 
 Mr. Perkins was informed that he might go into his uncle's 
 room, and did so accordingly. 
 
 He found a little hard old gentleman seated at a table 
 covered with every variety of sealing-wax, blotting-paper, en- 
 velopes, despatch-boxes, green tapers, &c, &c. An immense 
 fire was blazing in the grate, an immense sheet-almanac hung 
 over that, a screen, three or four chairs, and a faded Turkey 
 carpet, formed the rest of the furniture of this remarkable room 
 — which I have described thus particularly, because, in the 
 course of a long official life, I have remarked that such is the 
 invariable decoration of political rooms. 
 
 " Well, John," said the little hard old gentleman, pointing 
 to an arm-chair, " I'm told you've been here since eleven. Why 
 the deuce do you come so early ? " 
 
 " I had important business," answered Mr. Perkins, stoutly ; 
 and as his uncle looked up with a comical expression of wonder, 
 John began in a solemn tone to deliver a little speech which he 
 had composed, and which proved him to be a very worthy, 
 easy, silly fellow. 
 
 " Sir," said Mr. Perkins, " you have known for some time 
 past the nature of my political opinions, and the intimacy which 
 I have had the honor to form with one — with some of the lead- 
 ing members of the liberal party." (A grin from Mr. Cramp- 
 ton.) "When first, by your kindness, I was promised the 
 clerkship in the Tape and Sealing-Wax Office, my opinions 
 were not formed as they are now ; and having taken the advice 
 of the gentlemen with whom I act," — (an enormous grin) — 
 " the advice, I say, of the gentlemen with whom I act, and the 
 counsel likewise of my own conscience, I am compelled, with 
 the deepest grief, to say, my dear uncle, that I — I " 
 
THE BEDFORD-RO W CONSPIRA CY. 69 1 
 
 " That you — what, sir ? " exclaimed little Mr. Cramptcm, 
 bouncing off his chair. " You don't mean to say that you are 
 such a fool as to decline the place ? " 
 
 " I do decline the place," said Perkins, whose blood rose 
 at the word 6 fool.' " As a man of honor I cannot take it." 
 
 " Not take it ! and how are you to live ? On the rent of 
 that house of yours ? For, by gad, sir, if you give up the clerk- 
 ship, I never will give you a shilling." 
 
 " It cannot be helped," said Mr. Perkins, looking as much 
 a martyr as he possibly could, and thinking himself a very fine 
 fellow. " I have talents, sir, which I hope to cultivate ; and 
 am member of a profession by which a man may hope to rise 
 to the very highest offices of the State." 
 
 " Professions, talents, offices of the State ! Are you mad, 
 John Perkins, that you come to me with such insufferable 
 twaddle as this ? Why, do you think if you had been capable 
 of rising at the bar, I would have taken so much trouble about 
 getting you a place ? No, sir ; you are too fond of pleasure, 
 and bed, and tea-parties, and small talk, and reading novels, 
 and playing the flute, and writing sonnets. You would no 
 more rise at the bar than my messenger, sir. It was because I 
 knew your disposition — that hopeless, careless, irresolute 
 good-humor of yours — that I had determined to keep you out 
 of danger, by placing you in a snug shelter, where the storms 
 of the world would not come near you. You must have prin- 
 ciples forsooth ! and you must marry Miss Gorgon, of course ; 
 and by the time you have gone ten circuits, and had six 
 children, you will have eaten up -every shilling of your wife's 
 fortune, and be as briefless as you are now. Who the deuce 
 has put all this nonsense into your head ? I think I know." 
 
 Mr. Perkins's ears tingled as these hard words saluted them ; 
 and he scarcely knew whether he ought to knock his uncle 
 down, or fall at his feet and say, " Uncle, I have been a fool, 
 and I know it." The fact is, that in his interview with Miss 
 Gorgon and her aunt in the morning, when he came to tell 
 them of the resolution he had formed to give up the place, both 
 the ladies and John himself had agreed, with a thousand rap- 
 turous tears and exclamations, that he was one of the noblest 
 young men that ever lived, had acted as became himself, and 
 might with perfect propriety give up the place, his talents 
 being so prodigious that no power on earth could hinder him 
 from being Lord Chancellor. Indeed, John and Lucy had 
 always thought the clerkship quite beneath him, and were not a 
 little glad, perhaps, at finding a pretext for decently refusing it. 
 
692 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 But as Perkins was a young gentleman whose candor was such 
 that he was always swayed by the opinions of the last speaker, 
 he did begin to feel now the truth of his uncle's statements, 
 however disagreeable they might be. 
 Mr. Crampton continued : — 
 
 " I think I know the cause of your patriotism. Has not 
 William Pitt Scully, Esq., had something to do with it ? " 
 
 Mr. Perkins could not turn any redder than he was, but 
 confessed with deep humiliation that " he had consulted Mr. 
 Scully among other friends." 
 
 Mr. Grampton smiled — drew a letter from a heap before 
 him, and tearing off the signature, handed over the document 
 to his nephew. It contained the following paragraphs : — 
 
 " Hawksby has sounded Scully : we can have him any day 
 we want him. He talks very big at present, and says he would 
 not take anything under a * # * This is absurd. He 
 has a Yorkshire nephew coming up to town, and wants a place 
 for him. There is one vacant in the Tape Office, he says : 
 have you not a promise of it ? " 
 
 " I can't — I can't believe it," said John ; "this, sir, is some 
 weak invention of the enemy. Scully is the most honorable 
 man breathing." 
 
 " Mr. Scully is a gentleman in a very fair way to make a 
 fortune," answered Mr. Crampton. " Look you, John — it is 
 just as well for your sake that I should give you the news a 
 few weeks before the papers, for I don't want you to be ruined, 
 if I can help it, as I don't wish to have you on my hands. We 
 know all the particulars of Scully's history. He was a Tory 
 attorney at Oldborough ; he was jilted by the present Lady 
 Gorgon, turned Radical, and fought Sir George in his own 
 borough. Sir George would have had the peerage he is dying 
 for, had he not lost that second seat (by the bye, my lady will 
 be here in five minutes), and Scully is now quite firm there. 
 Well, my dear lad, we have bought your incorruptible Scully. 
 Look here," — and Mr. Crampton produced three Morning 
 Posts. 
 
 " ' The Honorable Henry Hawksby's Dinner-Party. — 
 Lord So-and-So — Duke of So-and-So — W. Pitt Scully, Esq., 
 M. P.' 
 
 " Hawksby is our neutral, our dinner-giver. 
 " \ Lady Diana Doldrum's Rout. — W. Pitt Scully, Esq., * 
 again. 
 
 " 6 The Earl of Mantrap's Grand Dinner.' — A Duke— 
 — four Lords — 4 Mr. Scully, and Sir George Gorgon' " 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 693 
 
 " Well, but I don't see how you have bought him ; look at 
 his votes." 
 
 " My dear John," said Mr. Crampton, jingling his watch- 
 seals very complacently, " I am letting you into fearful secrets. 
 The great common end of party is to buy your opponents — the 
 great statesman buys them for nothing." 
 
 Here the attendant genius of Mr. Crampton made his 
 appearance, and whispered something, to which the little gen- 
 tleman said, " Show her ladyship in," — when the attendant 
 disappeared. 
 
 " John," said Mr. Crampton, with a very queer smile, " you 
 can't stay in this room while Lady Gorgon is with me ; but 
 there is a little clerk's room behind the screen there, where you 
 can wait until I call you." 
 
 John retired, and as he closed the door of communication, 
 strange to say, little Mr. Crampton sprang up and said, " Con- 
 found the young ninny, he has shut the door ! " 
 
 Mr. Crampton then, remembering that he wanted a mat in 
 the next room, sprang into it, left the door half open in coming 
 out, and was in time to receive her ladyship with smiling face 
 as she, ushered by Mr. Strongitharm, majestically sailed in. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 BEHIND THE SCENES. 
 
 In issuing from and leaving open the door of the inner 
 room, Mr. Crampton had bestowed upon Mr. Perkins a look 
 so peculiarly arch, that even he, simple as he was, began to 
 imagine that some mystery was about to be cleared up, or 
 some mighty matter to be discussed. Presently he heard the 
 well-known voice of Lady Gorgon in conversation with his 
 uncle. What could their talk be about? Mr. Perkins was 
 dying to know, and, shall we say it ? advanced to the door on 
 tiptoe and listened with all his might. 
 
 Her ladyship, that Juno of a woman, if she had not borrowed 
 Venus's girdle to render herself irresistible, at least had adopted 
 a tender, coaxing, wheedling, frisky tone, quite different from 
 her ordinary dignified style of conversation. She called Mr. 
 Crampton a naughty man, for neglecting his old friends, vowed 
 
694 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 that Sir George was quite hurt at his not coming to dine — nor 
 fixing a day when he would come — and added, with a most 
 engaging ogle, that she had three fine girls at home, who would 
 perhaps make an evening pass pleasantly, even to such a gay 
 bachelor as Mr. Crampton. 
 
 "Madam," said he, with much gravity, "the daughters of 
 such a mother must be charming ; but I, who have seen your 
 ladyship, am, alas ! proof against even them." 
 
 Both parties here heaved tremendous sighs, and affected to 
 be wonderfully unhappy about something. 
 
 " I wish," after a pause said Lady Gorgon — " I wish, dear 
 Mr. Crampton, you would not use that odious title ' my lady- 
 ship you know it always makes me melancholy." 
 
 " Melancholy, my dear Lady Gorgon, and why ? " 
 
 " Because it makes me think of another title that ought to 
 have been mine — ours (I speak for dear Sir George's and my 
 darling boy's sake, heaven knows, not mine). What a sad dis- 
 appointment it has been to my husband, that after all his 
 services, all the promises he has had, they have never given 
 him his peerage. As for me, you know " 
 
 " For you, my dear madam, I know quite well that you care 
 for no such bauble as a coronet, except in so far as it may con- 
 fer honor upon those most dear to you — excellent wife and 
 noble mother as you are. Heigho ! what a happy man is Sir 
 George ! " 
 
 Here there was another pause, and if Mr. Perkins could 
 have seen what was taking place behind the screen, he would 
 have beheld little Mr. Crampton looking into Lady Gorgon's 
 face, with as love-sick a Romeo-gaze as he could possibly 
 counterfeit ; while her ladyship, blushing somewhat and turning 
 her own gray gogglers up to heaven, received all his words for 
 gospel, and sat fancying herself to be the best, most meritori- 
 ous, and most beautiful creature in the three kingdoms. 
 
 "You men are terrible flatterers," continued she ; "but you 
 say right ; for myself I value not these empty distinctions. I 
 am growing old, Mr. Crampton,- — yes, indeed, I am, although 
 you smile so incredulously, — and let me add, that my thoughts 
 are fixed upon higher things than earthly crowns. But tell me, 
 you who are all in all with Lord Bagwig, are we never to have 
 our peerage ? His Majesty, I know, is not averse ; the services 
 of dear Sir George to a member of his Majesty's august family, 
 I know, have been appreciated in the highest quarter. Ever 
 since the peace we have had a promise. Four hundred pounds 
 has Sir George spent at the Herald's Office, (I myself am of 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 6 95 
 
 one ot tne most ancient families in the kingdom, Mr. Crampton,) 
 and the poor dear man's health is really ruined by the anxious, 
 sickening feeling of hope so long delayed." 
 
 Mr. Crampton now assumed an air of much solemnity. 
 
 " My dear Lady Gorgon," said he, " will you let me be frank 
 with you, and will you promise solemnly that what 1 am going 
 to tell you shall never be repeated to a single soul ? " 
 
 Lady Gorgon promised. 
 
 "Well, then, since the truth you must know, you yourselves 
 have been in part the cause of the delay of which you complain. 
 You gave us two votes five years ago, you now only give us one. 
 If Sir George were to go up to the Peers, we should lose even 
 that one vote ; and would it be common sense in us to incur 
 such a loss ? Mr. Scully, the liberal, would return another 
 Member of his own way of thinking ; and as for the Lords, we 
 have, you know, a majority there." 
 
 " Oh, that horrid man ! " said Lady Gorgon, cursing Mr. 
 Scully in her heart, and beginning to play a rapid tattoo with 
 her feet, "that miscreant, that traitor, that — that attorney has 
 been our ruin." 
 
 " Horrid man if you please, but give me leave to tell you 
 that the horrid man is not the sole cause of your ruin — if ruin 
 you will call it. I am sorry to say that I do candidly think 
 Ministers think that Sir George Gorgon has lost his influence 
 in Oldborough as much through his own fault as through Mr. 
 Scully's cleverness." 
 
 " Our own fault ! Good heavens ! Have we not done 
 everything — everything that persons of our station in the 
 county could do, to keep those misguided men ? Have we not 
 remonstrated, threatened, taken away our custom from the 
 Mayor, established a Conservative apothecary — in fact done 
 all that gentlemen could do ? But these are such times, Mr. 
 Crampton : the spirit of revolution is abroad, and the great 
 families of England are menaced by democratic insolence." 
 
 This was Sir George Gorgon's speech always after dinner, 
 and was delivered by his lady with a great deal of stateliness. 
 Somewhat, perhaps, to her annoyance, Mr. Crampton only 
 smiled, shook his head, and said — 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Lady Gorgon — pardon the phrase, but 
 I am a plain old man, and call things by their names. Now, 
 will you let me whisper in your ear one word of truth ? You 
 have tried all sorts of remonstrances, and exerted yourself to 
 maintain your influence in every way, except the right one and 
 that is " 
 
6 9 6 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 " What, in heaven's name ? " 
 
 " Conciliation. We know your * situation in the borough. 
 Mr. Scully's whole history, and, pardon me for saying so (but 
 we men in office know everything), yours H 
 
 Lady Gorgon's ears and cheeks now assumed the hottest* 
 hue of crimson. She thought of her former passages with 
 Scully, and of the days when — but never mind when : for she 
 suffered her veil to fall, and buried her head in the folds of her 
 handkerchief. Vain folds ! The wily little Mr. Crampton 
 could see all that passed behind the cambric, and continued — ■ 
 
 ft Yes, madam, we know the absurd hopes that were formed 
 by a certain attorney twenty years since. We know how, up to 
 this moment, he boasts of certain walks " 
 
 " With the governess — we were always with the governess ! " 
 shrieked out Lady Gorgon, clasping her hands. " She was not 
 the wisest of women." 
 
 " With the governess of course," said Mr. Crampton, firmly. 
 " Do you suppose that any man dare breathe a syllable against 
 your spotless reputation ? Never, my clear madam ; but what 
 I would urge is this — you have treated your disappointed ad- 
 mirer too cruelly." 
 
 " What ! the traitor who has robbed us of our rights ? " 
 
 " He never would have robbed you of your rights if you had 
 been more kind to him. You should be gentle, madam ; you 
 should forgive him — you should be friends with him." 
 
 " With a traitor, never ! " 
 
 " Think what made him a traitor, Lady Gorgon ; look in 
 your glass, and say if there be not some excuse for him ? Think 
 of the feelings of the man who saw beauty such as yours — I am 
 a plain man and must speak — virtue such as yours, in the 
 possession of a rival. By heavens, madam, I think he was 
 right to hate Sir George Gorgon ! Would you have him allow 
 such a prize to be ravished from him without a pang on his 
 part ? " 
 
 " He was, I believe, very much attached to me," said Lady 
 Gorgon, quite delighted; " but you must be aware that a young 
 man of his station in life could not look up to a person of my 
 rank." 
 
 " Surely not : it was monstrous pride and arrogance in Mr. 
 Scully. But que roulez-vous t Such is the world's way. Scully 
 could not help loving you — who that knows you can ? I am a 
 plain man, and say what I think. He loves you still. Why 
 make an enemy of him, who would at a word be at your feet ? 
 Dearest Lady Gorgon, listen to me. Sir George Gorgon and 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 697 
 
 Mr. Scully have already met — their meeting was our contriv- 
 ance. It is for our interest, for yours, that they should be 
 friends. If there were two Ministerial Members for Old- 
 borough, do you think your husband's peerage would be less 
 secure ? I am not at liberty to tell you all I know on this 
 subject ; but do, I entreat you, be reconciled to him." 
 
 And after a little more conversation, which was carried on 
 by Mr. Crampton in the same tender way, this important inter- 
 view closed, and Lady Gorgon, folding her shawl round her, 
 threaded certain mysterious passages and found her way to her 
 carriage in Whitehall. 
 
 " I hope you have not been listening, you rogue ? " said Mr. 
 Crampton to his nephew, who blushed most absurdly by way of 
 answer. " You would have heard great State secrets, if you 
 had dared to do so. That woman is perpetually here, and if 
 peerages are to be had for the asking, she ought to have been 
 a duchess by this time. I would not have admitted her but for 
 a reason that I have. Go you now and ponder upon what you 
 have heard and seen. Be on good terms with Scully, and, 
 above all, speak not a word concerning our interview — no, not 
 a word even to your mistress. By the way, I presume, sir, you 
 will recall your resignation ? " 
 
 The bewildered Perkins was about to stammer out a speech, 
 when his uncle, cutting it short, pushed him gently out of the 
 door. 
 
 JA. .AA. J/, 
 
 "7v -7T -7? -7v TV" 
 
 At the period when the important events occurred which 
 have been recorded here, parties ran very high, and a mighty 
 struggle for the vacant Speakership was about to come on. 
 The Right Honorable Robert Pincher was the Ministerial can- 
 didate, and Sir Charles Macabaw was patronized by the Oppo- 
 sition. The two Members for Olclborough of course took 
 different sides, the baronet being of the Pincher faction, while 
 Mr. William Pitt Scully strongly supported the Macabaw party. 
 
 It was Mr. Scully's intention to deliver an impromptu 
 speech upon the occasion of the election, and he and his faith- 
 ful Perkins prepared it between them : for the latter gentleman 
 had wisely kept his uncle's counsel and his own, and Mr. 
 Scully was quite ignorant of the conspiracy that was brooding. 
 Indeed so artfully had that young Machiavel of a Perkins 
 conducted himself, that when asked by his patron whether 
 he had given up his place in the Tape and Sealing-Wax Office, 
 he replied that " he had tendered his resignation," but did not 
 say one word about having recalled it. 
 
6 9 8 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 u You were right, my boy, quite right," said Mr. Scully. 
 " A man of uncompromising principles should make no com- 
 promise." And herewith he sat down and wrote off a couple 
 of letters, one to Mr. Hawksby, telling him that the place in 
 the Sealing-Wax Office was, as he had reason to know, vacant : 
 and the other to his nephew, stating that it was to be his. 
 " Under the Rose, my dear Bob," added Mr. Scully, " it will 
 cost you five hundred pounds ; but you cannot invest your 
 money better." 
 
 It is needless to state that the affair was to be conducted 
 " with the strictest secrecy and honor," and that the money was 
 to pass through Mr. Scully's hands. 
 
 While, however, the great Pincher and Macabaw question 
 was yet undecided, an event occurred to Mr. Scully, which had 
 a great influence upon his after-life. A second grand banquet 
 was given at the Earl of Mantrap's : Lady Mantrap requested 
 him to conduct Lady Gorgon to dinner ; and the latter, with a 
 charming timidity, and a gracious melancholy look into his face 
 (after which her veined eyelids veiled her azure eyes), put her 
 hand into the trembling one of Mr. Scully and said, as much as 
 looks could say, " Forgive and forget." 
 
 Down went Scully to dinner. There were dukes on his 
 right hand and earls on his left ; there were but two persons 
 without title in the midst of that glittering assemblage ; the 
 very servants looked like noblemen. The cook had done 
 wonders ; the wines were cool and rich, and Lady Gorgon was 
 splendid ! What attention did everybody pay to her and to 
 him ! Why would she go on gazing into his face with that 
 tender, imploring look ? In other words, Scully, after partak- 
 ing of soup and fish, (he, during their discussion, had been 
 thinking over all the former love-and-hate passages between 
 himself and Lady Gorgon), turned very red, and began talking 
 to her. 
 
 " Were you not at the opera on Tuesday ? " began he, as- 
 suming at once the airs of a man of fashion. " I thought I 
 caught a glimpse of you in the Duchess of Diddlebury's box." 
 
 " Opera, Mr. Scully ? " (pronouncing the word " Scully " 
 with the utmost softness.) " Ah, no ! we seldom go, and yet 
 too often. For serious persons the enchantments of that place 
 are too dangerous. I am so nervous — so delicate ; the smallest 
 trifle so agitates, depresses, or irritates me, that I dare not 
 yield myself up to the excitement of music. I am too passion- 
 ately attached to it ; and, shall I tell you ? it has such a strange 
 influence upon me, that the smallest false note almost drives 
 
THE BEDFORD-RO W CONS FIR A CY. 699 
 
 me to distraction, and for that very reason I hardly ever go to 
 a concert or a ball." 
 
 " Egad," thought Scully, " I recollect when she would dance 
 down a matter of five-and-forty couple, and jingle away at the 
 6 Battle of Prague ' all day." 
 
 She continued : " Don't you recollect, I do, with — oh, what 
 regret ! — that day at Oldborough race-ball, when I behaved 
 with such sad rudeness to you ? You will scarcely believe me, 
 and yet I assure you 'tis the fact, the music had made me 
 almost mad. Do let me ask your pardon for my conduct. I 
 was not myself. Oh, Mr. Scully ! I am no worldly woman ; I 
 know my duties, and I feel my wrongs. Nights and nights 
 have I lain awake weeping and thinking of that unhappy day 
 — that I should ever speak so to an old friend : for we were old 
 friends, were we not ? " 
 
 Scully did not speak ; but his eyes were bursting out of his 
 head, and his face was the exact color of a deputy-lieutenant's 
 uniform. 
 
 " That I should ever forget myself and you so ! How I 
 have been longing for this opportunity to ask you to forgive 
 me ! I asked Lady Mantrap, when I heard you were to be 
 here, to invite me to her party. Come, I know you will forgive 
 me — your eyes say you will. You used to look so in old days, 
 and forgive me my caprices then. Do give me a little wine — 
 we will drink to the memory of old days." 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears ; and poor Scully's hand caused 
 such a rattling and trembling of the glass and the decanter 
 that the Duke of Doldrum — who had been, during the course 
 of this whispered sentimentality, describing a famous run with 
 the Queen's hounds at the top of his voice — stopped at the 
 jingling of the glass, and his tale was lost forever. Scully 
 hastily drank his wine, and Lady Gorgon turned round to her 
 next neighbor, a little gentleman in black, between whom and 
 herself certain conscious looks passed. 
 
 " I am glad poor Sir George is not here," said he, smiling. 
 
 Lady Gorgon said, " Pooh for shame ! The little gentle- 
 man was no other than Josiah Crampton, Esq., that eminent 
 financier, and he was now going through the curious calcu- 
 lation before mentioned, by which you buy a man for nothing. 
 He intended to pay the very same price for Sir George Gorgon, 
 too, but there was no need to tell the baronet so ; only of this 
 the reader must be made aware. 
 
 While Mr. Crampton was conducting this intrigue, which 
 was to bring a new recruit to the Ministerial ranks, his mighty 
 
 4S 
 
700 
 
 THE . BE L FORD-R 0 IV CONS FIR A C Y. 
 
 spirit condescended to ponder upon subjects of infinitely less 
 importance, and to arrange plans for the welfare of his nephew 
 and the young woman to whom he had made a present of his 
 heart. These young persons, as we said before, had arranged 
 to live in Mr. Perkins's own house in Bedford Row. It was of a 
 peculiar construction, and might more properly be called a 
 house and a half : for a snug little tenement of four chambers 
 protruded from the back of the house into the garden. These 
 rooms communicated with the drawing-rooms occupied by Mr. 
 Scully ; and Perkins, who acted as his friend and secretary, 
 used frequently to sit in the one nearest the Member's study, 
 in order that he might be close at hand to confer with that 
 great man. The rooms had a private entrance too, were newly 
 decorated, and in them the young couple proposed to live ; the 
 kitchen and garrets being theirs likewise. What more could 
 they need ? We are obliged to be particular in describing these 
 apartments, for extraordinary events occurred therein. 
 
 To say the truth, until the present period Mr. Crampton 
 had taken no great interest in his nephew's marriage, or, 
 indeed, in the young man himself. The old gentleman was of 
 a saturnine turn, and inclined to undervalue the qualities of Mr. 
 Perkins, which were idleness, simplicity, enthusiasm, and easy 
 good-nature. 
 
 " Such fellows never do anything in the world," he would 
 say, and for such he had accordingly the most profound con- 
 tempt. But when, after John Perkins's repeated entreaties, he 
 had been induced to make the acquaintance of Miss Gorgon, 
 he became instantly charmed with her, and warmly espoused 
 her cause against her overbearing relation. 
 
 At his suggestion she wrote back to decline Sir George 
 Gorgon's peremptory invitation, and hinted at the same time 
 that she had attained an age and a position which enabled her 
 to be the mistress of her own actions. To this letter there 
 came an answer from Lady Gorgon which we shall not copy, 
 but which simply stated that Miss Lucy Gorgon's conduct was 
 unchristian,- ungrateful, unladylike, and immodest; that the 
 Gorgon family disowned her for the future, and left her at 
 liberty to form whatever base connections she pleased. 
 
 " A pretty world this," said Mr. Crampton, in a great rage, 
 when the letter was shown to him. "This same fellow, Scully, 
 dissuades my nephew from taking a place, because Scully wants 
 it for himself. This prude of a Lady Gorgon cries out shame, 
 and disowns an innocent amiable girl : she a heartless jilt 
 herself once, and a heartless flirt now. The Pharisees, the 
 Pharisees ! And to call mine a base family, too ! " 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 701 
 
 Now, Lady Gorgon did not in the least know Mr. Crampton's 
 connection with Mr. Perkins, or she would have been much 
 more guarded in her language ; but whether she knew it or not, 
 the old gentleman felt a huge indignation, and determined to 
 have his revenge. 
 
 " That's right, uncle ! Shall I call Gorgon out ! " said the 
 impetuous young Perkins, who was all for blood. 
 
 " John, you are a fool," said his uncle. " You shall have 
 a better revenge i you shall be married from Sir George 
 Gorgon's house, and you shall see Mr. William Pitt Scully sold 
 for nothing." This to the veteran diplomatist seemed to be 
 the highest triumph which man could possibly enjoy. 
 
 It was very soon to take place : and, as has been the case 
 ever since the world began, woman, lovely woman was to be 
 % the cause of Scully's fall. The tender scene at Lord Mantrap's 
 was followed by many others equally sentimental. Sir George 
 Gorgon called upon his colleague the very next day, and 
 brought with him a card from Lady Gorgon inviting Mr. Scully 
 to dinner. The attorney eagerly accepted the invitation, was 
 received in Baker Street by the whole' amiable family with 
 much respectful cordiality, and was pressed to repeat his visits 
 as country neighbors should. More than once did he call, and 
 somehow always at the hour when Sir George was away at his 
 club, or riding in the Park, or elsewhere engaged. Sir George 
 Gorgon was very old, very feeble, very much chattered in con- 
 stitution. Lady Gorgon used to impart her fears to Mr. Scully 
 every time he called there, and the sympathizing attorney used 
 to console her as best he might. Sir George's country agent 
 neglected the property — his lady consulted Mr. Scully concern- 
 ing it. He knew to a fraction how large her jointure was ; 
 how she was to have Gorgon Castle for her life } and how, in 
 the event of the young baronet's death (he, too, was a sickly 
 poor boy), the chief part of the estates, bought by her money, 
 would be at her absolute disposal. 
 
 " What a pity these odious politics prevent me from hav- 
 ing you for our agent," would Lady Gorgon say ; and indeed 
 Scully thought it was a pity too. Ambitious Scully ! what wild 
 notions filled his brain. He used to take leave of Lady Gor- 
 gon and ruminate upon these things ; and when he was gone, 
 Sir George and her ladyship used to laugh. 
 
 " If we can but commit him — if we can but make him 
 vote for Pincher," said the General, " my peerage is secure. 
 Hawksby and Crampton as good as told me so." 
 
 The point had been urged upon Mr. Scully repeatedly and 
 
702 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 adroitly. " Is not Pincher a more experienced man than 
 Macabaw ? " would Sir George say to his guest over their wine. 
 Scully allowed it. " Can't.you vote for him on personal grounds, 
 and say so in the House ? " Scully wished he could, — how he 
 wished he could ! Every time the General coughed, Scully 
 saw his friend's desperate situation more and more, and thought 
 how pleasant it would be to be lord of Gorgon Castle. " Know- 
 ing my property/' cried Sir George, " as you do, and with your 
 talents and integrity, what a comfort it would be could I leave 
 you as guardian to my boy ! But these cursed politics prevent 
 it, my dear fellow. Why will you be a Radical ? V And 
 Scully cursed politics too. " Hang the low-bred rogue/' added 
 Sir George, when William Pitt Scully left the house : " he will 
 do anything but promise." 
 
 " My dear General," said Lady Gorgon, sidling up to him 
 and patting him on his old yellow cheek — " My dear Georgy, 
 tell me one thing, — are you jealous ? " 
 
 "Jealous, my dear ! and jealous of that fellow — pshaw ! " 
 
 " Well, then, give me leave, and you shall have the promise 
 to-morrow." 
 
 jfe -it. , Jt. ■ 
 
 *#v "TV" "TV TV TV 
 
 To-morrow arrived. It was a remarkably fine day, and in 
 the forenoon Mr. Perkins gave his accustomed knock at Scully's 
 study, which was only separated from his own sitting-room by a 
 double door. John had wis*ely followed his uncle's advice, and 
 was on the best terms with the honorable Member. 
 
 " Here are a few sentences," said he, " which I think may 
 suit your purpose. Great public services — undeniable merit — ■ 
 years of integrity — cause of reform, and Macabaw forever ! " 
 He put down the paper. It was, in fact, a speech in favor of 
 Mr. Macabaw. 
 
 " Hush," said Scully, rather surlily : for he was thinking 
 how disagreeable it was to support Macabaw ; and besides, 
 there were clerks in the room, whom the thoughtless Perkins 
 had not at first perceived. As soon as that gentleman saw 
 them, "You are busy, I see," continued he in a lower tone. 
 " I came to say that I must be off duty to-day, for I am 
 engaged to take a walk with some ladies of my acquaintance." 
 
 So saying, the light-hearted young man placed his hat un- 
 ceremoniously on his head, and went off through his own door, 
 humming a song. He was in such high spirits that he did not 
 even think of closing the doors of communication, and Scully 
 looked after him with a sneer. 
 
 " Ladies, forsooth," thought he ; " I know who they are. 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 This precious girl that he is fooling with, for one, I suppose.' 5 
 He was right : Perkins was off on the wings of love, to see 
 Miss Lucy ; and she and aunt Biggs and uncle Crampton had 
 promised this very day to come to look at the apartments 
 which Mrs. John Perkins was to occupy with her happy hus- 
 band. 
 
 " Poor devil," so continued Mr. Scully's meditations, " it 
 is almost too bad to do him out of his place ; but my Bob wants 
 it, and John's girl has, I hear, seven thousand pounds. His 
 uncle will get him another place before all that money is spent." 
 And herewith Mr. Scully began conning the speech which Per- 
 kins had made for him. 
 
 He had not read it more than six times, — in truth, he was 
 getting it by heart, — when his head clerk came to him from the 
 front room, bearing a card : a footman had brought it, who 
 said his lady was waiting below. Lady Gorgon's name was on 
 the card ! To seize his hat and rush down stairs was, with Mr. 
 Scully, the work of an infinitesimal portion of time. 
 
 It was indeed Lady Gorgon, in her Gorgonian chariot. 
 
 " Mr. Scully," said she, popping her head out of window 
 and smiling in a most engaging way, " I want to speak to you 
 on something very particular indeed''' — and she held him out 
 her hand. Scully pressed it most tenderly : he hoped all heads 
 in Bedford Row were at the windows to see him. " I can't ask 
 you into the carriage, for you see the governess is with me, and 
 I want to talk secrets to you." 
 
 " Shall I go and make a little promenade ?" said mademoi- 
 selle, innocently. And her mistress hated her for that speech. 
 
 "No. Mr. Scully, I am sure, will let me come in for five 
 minutes ? " 
 
 Mr. Scully was only too happy. My lady descended and 
 walked up stairs, leaning on the happy solicitor's arm. But 
 how should he manage ? The front room was consecrated to 
 clerks j there were clerks too, as ill-luck would have it, in his 
 private room. " Perkins is out for the day," thought Scully ; 
 " I will take her into his room." And into Perkins's room he 
 took her — ay, and he shut the double doors after him too, and 
 trembled as he thought of his own happiness. 
 
 " What a charming little study," said Lady Gorgon, seating 
 herself. And indeed it was very pretty : for Perkins had 
 furnished it beautifully, and laid out a neat tray with cakes, a 
 cold fowl, and sherry, to entertain his party withal. " And do 
 you bachelors always live so well ? " continued she, pointing to 
 the little cold collation. 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 Mr. Scully looked rather blank when he saw it, and a dread- 
 ful suspicion crossed his soul ; but there was no need to trouble 
 Lady Gorgon with explanations : therefore, at once, and with 
 much presence of mind, he asked her to partake of his bach- 
 elor's fare (she would refuse Mr. Scully nothing that day). A 
 pretty sight would it have been for young Perkins to see 
 strangers so unceremoniously devouring his feasts. She drank 
 — Mr. Scully drank — and so emboldened was he by the draught 
 that he actually seated himself by the side of Lady Gorgon, on 
 John Perkins's new sofa. 
 
 Her ladyship had of course something to say to him. She 
 was a pious woman, and had suddenly conceived a violent wish 
 for building a chapel-of-ease at Oldborough, to which she 
 entreated him to subscribe. She enlarged upon the benefits 
 that the town would derive from it, spoke of Sunday-schools, 
 sweet spiritual instruction, and the duty of all well-minded per- 
 sons to give aid to the scheme. 
 
 " I will subscribe a hundred pounds," said Scully, at the 
 end of her ladyship's harangue : " would I not do anything for 
 you?" 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, dear Mr. Scully," said the enthu- - 
 siastic woman. (How the " dear " went burning through his 
 soul !) " Ah ! " added she, " if you would but do anything for 
 me — if you, who are so eminently, so truly distinguished, in a 
 religious point of view, would but see the truth in politics too ; 
 and if I could see your name among those of the true patriot 
 party in this empire, how blest — oh ! how blest, should I be ! 
 Poor Sir George often says he should go to his grave happy, 
 could he but see you the guardian of his boy*; and I, your old 
 friend, (for we were friends, William,) how have I wept to think 
 of you as one of those who are bringing our monarchy to ruin. 
 Do, do promise me this too ! " And she took his hand and 
 pressed it between hers. 
 
 The heart of William Pitt Scully, during this speech, was 
 thumping up and down with a frightful velocity and strength. 
 His old love, the agency of the Gorgon property — the dear 
 widow — five thousand a year clear — a thousand delicious hopes 
 rushed madly through his brain, and almost took away his 
 reas-on. And there she sat — she, the loved one, pressing his 
 hand and looking softly into his eyes. 
 
 Down, down he plumped on his knees. 
 
 " Juliana ! " shrieked he, " don't take away your hand ! 
 My love — my only love! — speak but those blessed words 
 again ! Call me William once more, and do with me what you 
 will." 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 705 
 Juliana cast down her eyes and said, in the very smallest 
 
 type. 
 
 " William! " 
 
 # # # * # 
 
 — when the door opened, and in walked Mr. Crampton, leading 
 Mrs. Biggs, who could hardly contain herself for laughing, and 
 Mr. John Perkins, who was squeezing the arm of Miss Lucy. 
 They had heard every word of the two last speeches. 
 
 For at the very moment when Lady Gorgon had stopped at 
 Mr. Scully's door, the four above-named individuals had issued 
 from Great James Street into Bedford Row. 
 
 Lucy cried out that it was her aunt's carriage, and they all 
 saw Mr. Scully come out, bare-headed, in the sunshine, and my 
 lady descend, and the pair go into the house. They meanwhile 
 entered by Mr. Perkins's own private door, and had been occu- 
 pied in examining the delightful rooms on the ground-floor, 
 which were to be his dining-room and library — from which they 
 ascended a stair to visit the other two rooms, which were to 
 form Mrs. John Perkins's drawing-room and bedroom. Now 
 whether it was that they trod softly, or that the stairs were 
 covered with a grand new carpet and drugget, as was the case, 
 or that the party within were too much occupied in themselves 
 to heed any outward disturbances, I know not ; but Lucy, who 
 was advancing with John, (he was saying something about one 
 of the apartments, the rogue !) — Lucy suddenly started and 
 whispered, " There is somebody in the rooms !" and at that 
 instant began the speech already reported, " Thank you, thank 
 you, dear Mr. Scully" &c, &c, which was delivered by Lady 
 Gorgon in a full, clear voice ; for, to do her ladyship justice, 
 she had not one single grain of love for Mr. Scully, and, during 
 the delivery of her little oration, was as cool as the coolest 
 cucumber. 
 
 Then began the impassioned rejoinder, to which the four 
 listened on the landing-place ; and then the' little " William" 
 as narrated above : at which juncture Mr. Crampton thought 
 proper to rattle at the door, and after a brief pause, to enter 
 with his party. 
 
 " William " had had time to bounce off his knees, and was 
 on a chair at the other end of the room. 
 
 " What, Lady Gorgon ! " said Mr. Crampton, with excellent 
 surprise, " how delighted I am to see you ! Always, I see, 
 employed in works of charity " (the chapel-of-ease paper was ( 
 on her. knees), " and on such an occasion, too, — it is really the 
 most wonderful coincidence ! My dear madam, here is a silly 
 
706 
 
 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 fellow, a nephew of mine, who is going to marry a silly girl, a 
 niece of vour own." 
 
 " Sir, I — " began Lady Gorgon, rising. 
 
 " They heard every word," whispered Mr. Crampton, eagerly. 
 " Come forward, Mr. Perkins, and show yourself." Mr. Per- 
 kins made a genteel bow. " Miss Lucy, please to shake hands 
 with your aunt ; and this, my dear madam, is Mrs. Biggs, of 
 Mecklenburgh Square, who, if she were not too old, might 
 marry a gentleman in the Treasury, who is your very humble 
 servant." And with this gallant speech, old Mr. Crampton 
 began helping everybody to sherry and cake. 
 
 As for William Pitt Scully, he had disappeared, evaporated, 
 in the most absurd, sneaking way imaginable. Lady Gorgon 
 made good her retreat presently, with much dignity, her coun- 
 tenance undismayed, and her face turned resolutely to the foe. 
 4 # # # # 
 
 About five days afterwards, that memorable contest took 
 place in the House of Commons, in which the partisans of Mr. 
 Macabaw were so very nearly getting him the Speakership. 
 On the day that the report of the debate appeared in The 
 Ti?nes, there appeared also an announcement in the Gazette as 
 follows : — 
 
 "The King has been pleased to appoint John Perkins, Esq., 
 to be Deputy-Subcomptroller of his Majesty's Tape Office and 
 Custos of the Sealing-Wax Department." 
 
 Mr. Crampton showed this to his nephew with great glee, 
 and was chuckling to think how Mr. William Pitt Scully would 
 be annoyed, who had expected the place, when Perkins burst 
 out laughing and said, " By heavens, here is my own speech ! 
 Scully has spoken every word of it ; he has only put in Mr. 
 Pincher's name in the place of Mr. Macabaw's." 
 
 " He is ours now," responded his uncle, " and I told you 
 we would have him for nothing. I told you, too, that you should 
 be married from Sir George Gorgon's, and here is proof of it." 
 
 It was a letter from Lady Gorgon, in which she said that, 
 " had she known Mr. Perkins to be a nephew of her friend Mr. 
 Crampton, she never for a moment would have opposed his 
 marriage with her niece, and she had written that morning to 
 her dear Lucy, begging that the marriage breakfast should take 
 place in Baker Street." 
 
 " It shall be in Mecklenburgh Square," said John Perkins, 
 stoutly ; and in Mecklenburgh Square it was. 
 
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY. 
 
 707 
 
 William Pitt Scully, Esq., was, as Mr. Crampton said, hugely 
 annoyed at the loss of the place for his nephew. He had still, 
 however, his hopes to look forward to, but these were unluckily 
 dashed by the coining in of the Whigs. As for Sir George 
 Gorgon, when he came to ask about his peerage, Hawksby told 
 him that they could not afford to lose him in the Commons, for 
 a Liberal Member would infallibly fill his place. 
 
 And now that the Tories are out and the Whigs are in, 
 strange to say a Liberal does fill his place. This Liberal is no 
 other than Sir George Gorgon himself, who is still longing to 
 be a lord, and his lady is still devout and intriguing. So that 
 the Members for Oldborough have changed sides, and taunt 
 each other with apostasy, and hate each other cordially. Mr. 
 Crampton still chuckles over the manner in which he tricked 
 them both, and talks of those five minutes during which he 
 stood on the landing-place, and hatched and executed his 
 " Bedford-Row Conspiracy." 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. 
 
 L 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Fitzroy Timmins live in Lilliput Street, 
 that neat little street which runs at right angles with the Park 
 and Brobdingnag Gardens. It is a very genteel neighborhood, 
 and I need not say they are of a good family. 
 
 Especially Mrs. Timmins, as her mamma is always telling 
 Mr. T. They are Suffolk people, and distantly related to the 
 Right Honorable the Earl of Bungay. 
 
 Besides his house in Lilliput Street, Mr. Timmins has 
 chambers in Fig-tree Court, Temple, and goes the Northern 
 Circuit. 
 
 The other day, when there was a slight difference about the 
 payment of fees between the great Parliamentary Counsel and 
 the Solicitors, Stoke and Pogers, of Great George Street, sent 
 the papers of the Lough Foyle and Lough Corrib Junction 
 Railway to Mr. Fitzroy Timmins, who was so elated that he in- 
 stantly purchased a couple of looking-glasses for his drawing- 
 rooms (the front room is 16 by 12, and the back, a tight but 
 elegant apartment, 10 ft. 6 by 8 ft. 4), a coral for the baby, two 
 new dresses for Mrs. Timmins, and a little rosewood desk, at 
 the Pantechnicon, for which Rosa had long been sighing, with 
 crumpled legs, emerald-green and gold morocco top, and 
 drawers all over. 
 
 Mrs. Timmins is a very pretty poetess (her " Lines to a 
 Faded Tulip" and her " Plaint of Plinlimmon " appeared in 
 one of last year's Keepsakes) ; and Fitzroy, as he impressed a 
 kiss on the snowy forehead of his bride, pointed out to her, in 
 one of the innumerable pockets of the desk, an elegant ruby- 
 tipped pen, and six charming little gilt blank books, marked 
 
 " My Books," which Mrs. Fitzroy might fill, he said, (he is an 
 
 (708) 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. 
 
 709 
 
 Oxford man, and very polite,) "'with the delightful productions 
 of her Muse." Besides these books, there was pink paper, 
 paper with crimson edges, lace paper, all stamped with R. F. T. 
 (Rosa Fitzroy Timmins) and the hand and battle-axe, the crest 
 of the Timminses (and borne at Ascalon by Roaldus de Tim- 
 mins, a crusader, who is now buried in the Temple Church, 
 next to Serjeant Snooks), and yellow, pink, light-blue and 
 other scented sealing-waxes, at the service of Rosa when she 
 chose to correspond with her friends. 
 
 Rosa, you may be sure, jumped with joy at the sight of this 
 sweet present ; called her Charles (his first name is Samuel, but 
 they have sunk that) the best of men ; embraced him a great 
 number of times, to the edification of her buttony little." page, 
 who stood at the landing ; and as soon as he was gone to 
 chambers, took the new pen and a sweet sheet of paper, and 
 began to compose a poem. 
 
 " What shall it be about ? " was naturally her first thought. 
 "What should be a young mother's first inspiration ? " Her 
 child lay on the sofa asleep before her ; and she began in her 
 neatest hand — 
 
 " LINES 
 
 « 
 
 14 ON MY SON, BUNGAY DE BRACY GASHLEIGH TYMMYNS. AGED TEN MONTHS. 
 
 " Tuesday. 
 
 il How beautiful ! how beautiful thou seemesfc* 
 My boy, my precious one, my rosy babe ! 
 Kind angels hover round thee, as thou dreamCst : 
 Soft lashes hide thy beauteous azure eye which gleamest." 
 
 " Gleamest ? thine eye which gleamest ? Is that gram- 
 mar ? " thought Rosa, who had puzzled her little brains for 
 some time with this absurd question, when the baby woke. 
 Then the cook came up to ask about dinner ; then Mrs. Fundy 
 slipped over from No. 27 (they are opposite neighbors, and 
 made an acquaintance through Mrs. Fundy's macaw) ; and a 
 thousand things happened. Finally, there was no rhyme to 
 babe except Tippoo Saib (against whom Major Gashleigh, 
 Rosa's grandfather, had distinguished himself), and so she gave 
 up the little poem about her De Bracy. 
 
 Nevertheless, when Fitzroy returned from chambers to take 
 a walk with his wife in the Park, as he peeped through the rich 
 tapestry hanging which divided the two drawing-rooms, he 
 found his dear girl still seated at the desk, and writing, writing 
 away with her ruby pen as fast as it could scribble. 
 
STORIES. 
 
 " What a genius that child has ! " he said ; " why, she is a 
 second Mrs. Norton ! " and advanced smiling to peep over her 
 shoulder and see what pretty thing Rosa was composing. 
 
 It was not poetry, though, that she was writing, and Fitz 
 read as follows : — 
 
 Lilliput Stre-et, Tuesday, 22a 1 May. 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Fitzroy Tymmyns request the pleasure of 
 Sir Thomas and Lady Kicklebury's company at dinner on Wed- 
 nesday, at 7^ o'clock." 
 
 " My dear ! " exclaimed the barrister, pulling a long face. 
 
 " Law, Fitzroy ! " cried the beloved of his bosom, " how you 
 do startle one ! " 
 
 " Give a dinner-party with our means ! " said he. 
 
 "Ain't you making a fortune, you miser?" Rosa said. 
 " Fifteen guineas a day is four thousand five hundred a year ; 
 I've calculated it." And, so saying, she. rose and taking hold 
 of his whiskers (which are as fine as those of any man of his 
 circuit,) she put her mouth close up against his and did some- 
 thing to his long face, which quite changed the expression of 
 it ; and which the little page heard outside the door. 
 
 " Our dining-room won't hold ten," he said. 
 
 " We'll only ask twenty, my love. Ten are sure to refuse 
 in this season, when everybody is giving parties. Look, here 
 is the list." 
 
 " Earl and Countess of Bungay, and Lady Barbara Saint 
 Mary's." 
 
 " You are dying to get a lord into the house," Timmins 
 said (he has not altered his name in Fig-tree Court yet, and 
 therefore I am not so affected as to call him Tymmyns). ' 
 
 " Law, my dear, they are cousins, and must be asked," 
 Rosa said. 
 
 " Let us put down my sister and Tom Crowder, then." 
 
 " Blanche Crowder is really so very fat, Fitzroy," his wife 
 said, " and our rooms are so very small." 
 
 Fitz laughed. " You little rogue," he said, " Lady Bungay 
 weighs two of Blanche, even when she's not in the f " 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " Rosa cried out. " Doctor Crowder really 
 cannot be admitted : he makes such a noise eating his soup, 
 that it is really quite disagreeable." And she imitated the gur- 
 gling noise performed by the Doctor while inhausting his soup, 
 in such a funny way, that Fitz saw inviting him was out of the 
 question. 
 
A LITTLE DINNER A T TIMMINS 'S. 
 
 711 
 
 4 Besides, we mustn't have too many relations," Rosa went 
 on. " Mamma, of course, is coining. She doesn't like to be 
 asked in the evening ; and she'll bring her silver bread-basket 
 and her candle-sticks, which are very rich and handsome." 
 
 ff And you complain of Blanche for being too stout ! " 
 groaned out Timmins. 
 
 "Well, well, don't be in a pet," said little Rosa. "The 
 girls won't come to dinner ; but will bring their music after- 
 wards." And she went on with the list. 
 
 " Sir Thomas and Lady Kicklebury, 2. No saying no : we 
 must ask them, Charles. They are rich people, and any room 
 in their house in Brobdingnag Gardens would swallow up our 
 humble cot. But to people in our position in society they will 
 be glad enough to come. The city people are glad to mix with 
 the old families." 
 
 " Very good," says Fitz, with a sad face of assent — and 
 Mrs. Timmins went on reading her list. 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Topham Sawyer, Belgravine Place." 
 
 " Mrs. Sawyer hasn't asked you all the season. She gives 
 herself the airs of an empress ; and when " 
 
 " One's Member, you know, my dear, one must have," Rosa 
 replied, with much dignity ; as if the presence of the representa- 
 tive of her native place would be a protection to her dinner. 
 And a note was written and transported by the page early next 
 morning to the mansion of the Sawyers, in Belgravine Place. 
 
 The Topham Sawyers had just come down to breakfast*; 
 Mrs. T. in her large dust-colored morning dress and Madonna 
 front (she looks rather scraggy of a morning, but I promise 
 you her ringlets and figure will stun you of an evening) ; and 
 having read the note, the following dialogue passed : — 
 
 Mrs. Topham Sawyer. — " Well, upon my word, I don't 
 know where things will end. Mr. Sawyer, the Timminses have 
 asked us to dinner." 
 
 Mr. Topham Sawyer. — " Ask us to dinner ! What d ■ 
 
 impudence ! " 
 
 Mrs. Topham Sawyer. — " The most dangerous and insolent 
 revolutionary principles are abroad, Mr. Sawyer ; and I shall 
 write and hint as much to these persons." 
 
 Mr. Topham Sawyer. — " No, d it, Joanna : they are 
 
 my constituents and we must go. Write a civil note, and say 
 we will come to their party." (He resumes the perusal of " The 
 Times] and Mrs. Topham Sawyer writes)- 
 
 \ 
 
712 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 " My dear Rosa, 
 
 " We shall have great pleasure in joining your little party. 1 
 do not reply in the third person, as we are old friends, you know, 
 and country neighbors. I hope your mamma is well : present 
 my kindest remembrances to her, and I hope we shall see much 
 more of each other in the summer, when we go down to the 
 Sawpits (for going abroad is out of the question in these dread- 
 ful times). With a hundred kisses to your dear little/^/. 
 
 " Believe me your attached 
 
 "J. T. S." 
 
 She said Pet, because she did not know whether Rosa's 
 child was a girl or boy : and Mrs. Timmins was very much 
 pleased with the kind and gracious nature of the reply to her 
 invitation. 
 
 It. 
 
 The next persons whom little Mrs. Timmins was bent upon 
 asking, were Mr. and Mrs. John Rowdy, of the firm of Stumpy, 
 Rowdy and Co., of Brobdingnag Gardens, of the Prairie, Put- 
 ney, and of Lombard Street, City. 
 
 Mrs. Timmins and Mrs. Rowdy had been brought up at the 
 same school together, and there was always a little rivalry 
 between them, from the day when they contended for the 
 French prize at school to- last week, when each had a stall at 
 the Fancy Fair for the benefit of the Daughters of Decayed 
 Muffin-men ; and when Mrs. Timmins danced against Mrs. 
 Rowdy in the Scythe Mazurka at the Polish Ball, headed by 
 Mrs. Hugh Slasher., Rowdy took twenty-three pounds more 
 than Timmins in the Muffin transaction (for she had posses- 
 sion of a kettle-holder worked by the hands of R-y-lty, which 
 brought crowds to her stall) ; but in the Mazurka Rosa con- 
 quered : she has the prettiest little foot possible (which in a 
 red boot and silver heel looked so lovely that even the Chinese 
 ambassador remarked it), whereas Mrs. Rowdy's foot is no 
 trifle, as Lord Cornbury acknowledged when it came down on 
 his lordship's boot-tip as they danced together amongst the 
 Scythes. . 
 
 " These people are ruining themselves," said Mrs. John 
 Rowdy to her husband, on receiving the pink note. It was 
 carried round by that rogue of a buttony page in the evening; 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS' S. 
 
 and he walked to Brobdingnag Gardens, and in the Park after- 
 wards, with a young lady who is kitchen-maid at 27, and who 
 is not more than fourteen years older than little Buttons. 
 
 " These people are ruining themselves," said Mrs. John to 
 her husband. " Rosa says she has asked the Bungays." 
 
 " Bungays indeed ! Timmins was always a tuft-hunter/' 
 said Rowdy, who had been at college with the barrister, and 
 who, for his own part, has no more objection to a lord than 
 you or I have ; and adding, " Hang him, what business has he 
 to be giving parties ? allowed Mrs. Rowdy, nevertheless, to 
 accept Rosa's invitation. 
 
 " When I go to business to-morrow, I will just have a look 
 at Mr. Fitz's account," Mr. Rowdy thought ; " and if it is 
 overdrawn, as it usually is, why # # * " The announce- 
 ment of Mrs. Rowdy's brougham here put an end to this agree- 
 able train of thought ; and the banker and his lady stepped 
 into it to join a snug little family-party of two-and-twenty, given 
 by Mr. and Mrs. Secondchop at their great house on the other 
 side of the Park. 
 
 " Rowdys 2, Bungays 3, ourselves and mamma 3, 2 Saw- 
 yers," calculated little Rosa. 
 
 " General Gulpin," Rosa continued, "eats -a great deal, 
 and is very stupid, but he looks well at table with his star and 
 ribbon. Let us put him down ! " and she noted down " Sir 
 Thomas and Lady Gulpin, 2. Lord Gastlemouldy, 1." 
 
 "You will make your party abominably genteel and stupid," 
 groaned Timmins. " Why don't you ask some of our old 
 friends ? Old Mrs. Port man has asked us twenty times, I am 
 sure, within the last two years." 
 
 "And the last time we went there, there was pea-soup for 
 dinner! " Mrs. Timmins said, with a look of ineffable scorn. 
 
 " Nobody can have been kinder than the Hodges have 
 always been, to us ; and some sort of return we might make, I 
 think." 
 
 " Return, indeed ! A pretty sound it is on the staircase to 
 hear "Mr. and Mrs. 'Odge and Miss 'Odges " pronounced by 
 Billiter, who always leaves his h's out. No, no : see attorneys 
 at your chambers, my dear — but what could the poor creatures 
 do in our society ? " And so, one by one, Timmins's old 
 friends were tried and eliminated 'by Mrs. Timmins, just as if 
 she had been an Irish Attorney-General, and they so many 
 Catholics on Mr. Mitchel's jury. 
 
 Mrs. Fitzroy insisted that the party should be of her very 
 best company. Funnyman, the great wit, was asked, because 
 
7 i4 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 of his jokes ; and Mrs. Butt, on whom he practises ; and Pot- 
 ter, who is asked because everybody else asks him ; and Mr. 
 Ranville Ranville of the Foreign Office, who might give some 
 news of the Spanish squabble ; and Botherby, who has sud- 
 denly sprung up into note because he is intimate with the 
 French Revolution, and visits Ledru-Rollin and Lamartine. 
 And these, with a couple more who are amis de la niaison, made 
 up the twenty, whom Mrs. Timmins thought she might safely 
 invite to her little dinner. 
 
 But the deuce of it was, that when the answers to the invita- 
 tions came back, everybody accepted ! Here was a pretty 
 quandary. How they were to get twenty into their dining-room 
 was a calculation which poor Timmins could not solve at all ; 
 and he paced up and down the little room in dismay. 
 
 " Pooh ! " said Rosa with a laugh. " Your sister Blanche 
 looked very well in one of my dresses last year ; and you know 
 how stout she is. We will find some means to accommodate 
 them all, depend upon it." 
 
 Mrs. John Rowdy's note to dear Rosa, accepting the latter's 
 invitation, was a very gracious and kind one ; and Mrs. Fitz 
 showed it to her husband when he came back from chambers. 
 But there was another note which had arrived for him by this 
 time from Mr. Rowdy — or rather from the firm : and to the 
 effect that Mr. F. Timmins had overdrawn his account 28/. i8i\ 
 6d., and was requested to pay that sum to his obedient servants, 
 Stumpy, Rowdy and Co. 
 
 And Timmins did not like to tell his wife that the contend- 
 ing parties in the Lough Foyle and Lough Corrib Railroad had 
 come to a settlement, and that the fifteen guineas a flay had 
 consequently determined. " I have had seven days of it, 
 though," he thought ; " and that will be enough to pay for the 
 desk, the dinner, and the glasses, and make all right with 
 Stumpy and Rowdy. 
 
 in. 
 
 The cards for dinner having been issued, it became the 
 duty of Mrs. Timmins to make further arrangements respecting 
 the invitations to the tea-party which was to follow the more 
 substantial meal. 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS' S. 
 
 7*5 
 
 These arrangements are difficult, as any lady knows who is 
 in the habit of entertaining her friends. There are — 
 
 People who are offended if you ask them to tea whilst 
 others have been asked to dinner ; 
 
 People who are offended if you ask them to tea at all • and 
 cry out furiously, " Good heavens ! Jane my love, why do these 
 Timminses suppose that I am to leave my dinner-table to at- 
 tend their soiree ? " (the dear reader may fill up the 
 
 to any strength, according to his liking) — or, " Upon my word, 
 William my dear, it is too much to ask us to pay twelve shil- 
 lings for a brougham, and to spend I don't know how much in 
 gloves, just to make our curtseys in Mrs. Timmins's, little draw- 
 ing-room." Mrs. Moser made the latter remark about the 
 Timmins affair, while the former was uttered by Mr. Grumpley, 
 barrister at law, to his lady, in Gloucester Place. 
 
 That there are people who are offended if you don't ask 
 them at all, is a point which I suppose nobody will question. 
 Timmins's earliest friend in life was Simmins whose wife and 
 family have taken a cottage at Mortlake for the season. 
 
 " We can't ask them to come out of the country," Rosa said 
 to her Fitzroy — (between ourselves, she was delighted that Mrs. 
 Simmins was out of the way, and was as jealous of her as every 
 well-regulated woman should be of her husband's female 
 friends) — "we can't ask them to come so far for the evening." 
 
 " Why, no, certainly," said Fitzroy, who has himself no 
 very great opinion of a tea-party ; and so the Simminses were 
 cut out of the list. 
 
 And what was the consequence ? The consequence was, 
 that Simmins and Timmins cut when thev met at Westminster : 
 that Mrs. Simmins sent back all the books which she had bor- 
 rowed from Rosa, with a withering note of thanks ; that Rosa 
 goes about saying that Mrs. Simmins squints ; that Mrs. S. on 
 her side, declares that Rosa is crooked, and behaved shame- 
 fully to Captain Hicks in marrying Fitzroy over him, though 
 she was forced to do it by her mother, and prefers the Captain 
 to her husband to this day. If, in a word, these two men could 
 be made to fight, I believe their wives would not be displeased ; 
 and the reason of all this misery, rage, and dissension, lies in 
 a poor little twopenny dinner-party in Lilliput Street. 
 
 Well, the guests, both for before and after meat, having 
 been asked, old Mrs. Gashleigh, Rosa's mother — (and, by 
 consequence, Fitzroy's dear mother-in-law, though I promise 
 you that " dear " is particularly sarcastic) — Mrs. Gashleigh of 
 course was sent for. and came with Miss Eliza Gashleigh who 
 
 43 
 
7 16 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 plays on the guitar, and Emily, who limps a little, but plays 
 sweetly on the concertina. They live close by — trust them for 
 that. Your mother-in-law is always within hearing, thank our 
 stars for the attention of the dear women. The Gashleighs, I 
 say, live close by, and came early on the morning after Rosa's 
 notes had been issued for the dinner. 
 
 When Fitzroy, who was in his little study, which opens into 
 his little dining-room — one of those absurd little rooms which 
 ought to be called a gentleman's pantry, and is scarcely bigger 
 than a shower-bath, or a state cabin in a ship — when Fitzroy 
 heard his mother-in-law's knock, and her well-known scuffling 
 and chattering in the passage — in which she squeezed up young 
 Buttons, the page, while she put questions to him regarding 
 baby, and the cook's health, and whether she had taken what 
 Mrs. Gashleigh had sent overnight, and the housemaid's health, 
 and whether Mr. Timmins had gone to chambers or not — and 
 when, after this preliminary chatter, Buttons flung open the 
 door, announcing — " Mrs. Gashleigh and the young ladies," 
 Fitzroy laid down his Times newspaper with an expression 
 that had best not be printed here, and took his hat and walked 
 away. 
 
 Mrs. Gashleigh has never liked him since he left off calling 
 her mamma, and kissing her. But he said he could not stand 
 it any longer — he was hanged if he would. So he went away 
 to chambers, leaving the field clear to Rosa, mamma, and the 
 two dear girls. 
 
 — Or to one of them, rather: for before leaving the house, 
 he thought he would have a look at little Fitzroy up stairs in 
 the nursery, and he found the child in the hands of his maternal 
 aunt Eliza, who was holding him and pinching him as if he 
 had been her guitar, I suppose ; so that the little fellow bawled 
 pitifully — and his father finally quitted the premises. 
 
 No sooner was he gone, although the party was still a fort- 
 night off, than the women pounced upon his little study, and 
 began to put it in order. Some of his papers they pushed up 
 over the book-case, some they put behind the Encyclopaedia, 
 
 some they crammed into the drawers where Mrs. Gashleigh 
 
 found three cigars, which she pocketed, and some letters, over 
 which she cast her eye ; and by Fitz's return they had the room 
 as neat as possible, and the best glass and dessert-service mus- 
 tered on the study table. 
 
 It was a very neat and handsome service, as you may be 
 sure Mrs. Gashleigh thought, whose rich uncle had purchased 
 it for the young couple, at Spode and Ccpeland's ; but it was 
 only for twelve persons. 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIM M INS 'S. 
 
 717 
 
 It was agreed that it would be, in all respects, cheaper and 
 better to purchase a dozen more dessert-plates ; and with " my 
 silver basket in the centre," Mrs. G. said (she is always brag- 
 ging about that confounded bread-basket), " we need not have 
 any extra china dishes, and the table will look very pretty." 
 
 On making a roll-call of the glass, it was calculated that at 
 least a dozen or so tumblers, four or five dozen wines, eight 
 water-bottles, and a proper quantity of ice-plates, were requisite ; 
 and that, as they would always be useful, it would be the best 
 to purchase the articles immediately. Fitz tumbled over the 
 basket containing them, which stood in the hall, as he came 
 in from chambers, and over the boy who had brought them — 
 and the little bill. 
 
 The women had had a long debate, and something like a 
 quarrel, it must be owned, over the bill of fare. Mrs. Gash- 
 leigh, who had lived a great part of her life in Devonshire, 
 and kept house in great state there, was famous for making 
 some dishes, without which, she thought, no dinner could be 
 perfect. When she proposed her mock-turtle, and stewed 
 pigeons, and gooseberry-cream, Rosa turned up her nose — a 
 pretty little nose it was, by the way, and with a natural turn in 
 that direction. 
 
 " Mock-turtle in June, mamma ! " said she. 
 
 " It was good enough for your grandfather, Rosa," the 
 mamma replied: "it was good enough for the Lord High 
 Admiral, when he was at Plymouth ; it was good enough for 
 the first men in the county, and relished by Lord Fortyskewer 
 and Lord Rolls ; Sir Lawrence Poker ate twice of it after 
 Exeter Races ; and I think it might be good enough for " 
 
 " I will not have it, mamma ! " said Rosa, with a stamp of 
 her foot ; and Mrs. Gashleigh knew what resolution there was 
 in that. Once, when she had tried to physic the baby, there 
 had been a similar fight between them. 
 
 So Mrs. Gashleigh made out a carte, in which the soup was 
 left with a dash — a melancholy vacuum ; and in which the 
 pigeons were certainly thrust in amongst the entrees ; but Rosa 
 determined they never should make an e?itree at all into her 
 dinner-party, but that she would have the dinner her own 
 way. 
 
 1_ When Fitz returned, then, and after he had paid the little 
 bill of 61. 14^. 6a 7 . for the glass, Rosa flew to him with her 
 sweetest smiles, and the baby in her arms. And after she had 
 made him remark how the child grew every day more and more 
 like him, and after she had treated him to a number of com- 
 
718 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 pliments and caresses, which it were positively fulsome to 
 exhibit in public, and after she had soothed him into good- 
 humor by her artless tenderness, she began to speak to him 
 about some little points which she had at heart. 
 
 She pointed out with a sigh how shabby the old curtains 
 looked since the dear new glasses which her darling Fitz had 
 given her had been p it up in the drawing-room. Muslin cur- 
 tains cost nothing, and she must and would have them. 
 
 The muslin curtains were accorded. She and Fitz went 
 and bought them at Shoolbred's, when you may be sure she 
 treated herself likewise to a neat, sweet pretty half-mourning 
 (for the Court, you know, is in mourning) — a neat sweet barege, 
 or calimanco, or bombazine, or tiffany, or some such thing ; but 
 Madame Camille, of Regent Street, made it up, and Rosa 
 looked like an angel in it on the night of her little dinner. 
 
 " And, my sweet," she continued, after the curtains had 
 been accorded, " mamma and I have been talking about the 
 dinner. She wants to make it very expensive, which I cannot 
 allow. I have been thinking of a delightful and economical 
 plan, and you, my sweetest Fitz, must put it into execution." 
 
 " I have cooked a mutton-chop when I was in chambers," 
 Fitz said with a laugh. " Am I to put on a cap and an 
 apron ? " 
 
 " No : but you are to go to the 1 Megatherium Club ' (where, 
 you wretch, you are always going without my leave), and you 
 are to beg Monsieur Mirobolant, your famous cook, to send 
 you one of his best aides-de-camp, as I know he will, and with 
 his aid we can dress the dinner and the confectionery at home 
 for almost nothing, and we can show those purse-proud Topham 
 Sawyers and Rowdys that the humble cottage can furnish 
 forth an elegant entertainment as well as the gilded halls of 
 wealth." 
 
 Fitz agreed to speak to Monsieur Mirobolant. If Rosa 
 had had a fancy for the cook of the Prime Minister, I believe 
 the deluded creature of a husband would have asked Lord 
 John for the loan of him. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fitzroy Timmins, whose taste for wine is remarkable for 
 so young a man, is a member of the committee of the " Mega- 
 therium Club," and the great Mirobolant, good-natured as all 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS' S. ?I9 
 
 great men are, was only too happy to oblige him. A young 
 friend and protege of his, of considerable merit, M. Cavalca- 
 dour, happened to be disengaged through the lamented death 
 of Lord Hauncher, with whom young Cavalcadour had made 
 his debut as an artist. He had nothing to refuse to his master, 
 Mirobolant, and would impress himself to be useful to a gour- 
 met so distinguished as Monsieur Timmins. Fitz went away 
 as pleased as Punch with this encomium of the great Mirobor 
 lant, and was one of those who voted against the decreasing of 
 Mirobolant's salary, when the measure was proposed by Mr. 
 Parings, Colonel Close, and the Screw party in the committee 
 of the club. 
 
 . Faithful to the promise of his great master, the youthful 
 Cavalcadour called in Lilliput Street the next day. A rich 
 crimson velvet waistcoat, with buttons of blue glass and gold, 
 a variegated blue satin stock, over which a graceful mosaic 
 chain hung in glittering folds, a white hat worn on one side of 
 his long curling ringlets, redolent with the most delightful 
 hair-oil — one of those white hats which looks as if it had been 
 just skinned — and a pair of gloves not exactly of the color of 
 beurre frais, but of beurre that has been up the chimney, with a 
 natty cane with a gilt knob, completed the upper part, at any 
 rate, of the costume of the young fellow whom the page in- 
 troduced to Mrs. Timmins. 
 
 Her mamma and she had been just having a dispute about 
 the gooseberry-cream when Cavalcadour arrived. His presence 
 silenced Mrs. Gashleigh ; and Rosa, in carrying on a conversa- 
 tion with him in the French language — which she had acquired 
 perfectly in an elegant finishing establishment in Kensington 
 Square — had a„. great advantage over her mother, who could 
 only pursue the dialogue with very much difficulty, eyeing one 
 or other interlocutor with an alarmed and suspicious look, and 
 gasping out " We " whenever she thought a proper opportunity 
 arose for the use of that affirmative. 
 
 " I have two leetl menus weez me," said Cavalcadour to 
 Mrs. Gashleigh. 
 
 " Minews — yes, — oh, indeed ? " answered the lady. 
 
 " Two little cartes." 
 
 " Oh, two carts ! Oh, we," she said. Coming, I suppose ? " 
 And she looked out of the window to see if they were there. 
 
 Cavalcadour smiled. He produced from a pocketbook a 
 pink paper and a blue paper, on which he had written two bills 
 of fare — the last two which he had composed for the lamented 
 Hauncher — and he handed these over to Mrs. Fitzroy. 
 
720 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 The poor little woman was dreadfully puzzled with these 
 documents (she has them in her possession still), and began to 
 read from the pink one as follows : — 
 
 "DINER POUR 16 PERSONNES. 
 
 Potage (clair) a la Rigodon, 
 Do. a la Prince de Tombuctou. 
 
 Deux Poissons. 
 
 Saumon de Severne Rougets Gratings 
 
 a la Boadicee. a la Cleopatre. 
 
 Deux Releves. 
 Le Chapeau-a-trois-cornes farci a la Robespierre. 
 Le Tire-botte a 1' Odalisque. 
 
 Six Entrees. 
 Saute de Hannetons a l'Epingliere. 
 
 Cotelettes a la Megatherium. 
 Bourrasque de Veau a la Palsambleu. 
 Laitances de Carpe en goguette a la Reine Pomare. 
 Turban de Volaille a l'Archeveque de Cantorbery." 
 
 And so on with the entremets, and Jiors d'ceuvres, and the rbtis, 
 and the releves. 
 
 " Madame will see that the dinners are quite simple," said 
 M. Cavalcadour. 
 
 " Oh, quite ! " said Rosa, dreadfully puzzled. 
 
 " Which would Madame like ? " 
 
 " Which would we like, mamma ? " Rosa asked ; adding, as 
 if after a little thought, " I think, sir, we should prefer the blue 
 one." At which Mrs. Gashleigh nodded as knowingly as she 
 could ; though pink or blue, I defy anybody to know what these 
 cooks mean by their jargon. 
 
 " If you please, Madame, we will go down below and exam- 
 ine the scene of operations," Monsieur Cavalcadour said ; and 
 so he was marshalled down the stairs to the kitchen, which he 
 didn't like to name, and appeared before the cook in all his 
 splendor. 
 
 He cast a rapid glance round the premises, and a smile of 
 something like contempt lighted up his features. " Will you 
 bring pen and ink, if you please, and I will write down a few of 
 the articles which will be necessary for us ? We shall require, 
 if you please, eight more stew-pans, a couple of braising-pans, 
 eight saute-pans, six bainmarie-pans, a freezing-pot with acces- 
 sories, and a few more articles of which I will inscribe the 
 names." And Mr. Cavalcadour did so, dashing down, with the 
 rapidity of genius, a tremendous list of ironmongery goods, 
 which he handed over to Mrs. Timmins. She and her mamma 
 were-quite frightened at the awful catalogue. 
 
 " I will call three days hence and superintend the progress 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. 72 1 
 
 of matters ; and we will make the stock for the soup the day 
 before the dinner." 
 
 " Don't you think, sir," here interposed Mrs. Gashleigh, 
 " that one soup — a fine rich mock-turtle, such as I have seen in 
 the best houses in the West of England, and such as the late 
 Lord Fortyskewer " 
 
 " You will get what is wanted for the soups, if you please," 
 Mr. Cavalcadour continued, not heeding this interruption, and 
 as bold as a captain on his own quarter-deck : " for the stock 
 of clear soup, you will get a leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a 
 ham." 
 
 " We, munseer," said the cook, dropping a terrified curtsey ; 
 " a leg of beef, a leg of veal, and a ham." 
 
 " You can't serve a leg of veal at a party," said Mrs. Gash- 
 leigh ; " and a leg of beef is not a company dish." 
 
 " Madame, they are to make the stock of the clear soup," 
 Mr. Cavalcadour said. 
 
 " What /" cried Mrs. Gashleigh ; and the cook repeated his 
 former expression. 
 
 " Never, whilst I am in this house," cried out Mrs. Gash- 
 leigh, indignantly ; " never in a Christian English household ; 
 never shall such sinful waste be permitted by me. If you wish 
 me to dine, Rosa, you must get a dinner less expensive. The 
 Right Honorable Lord Fortyskewer could dine, sir, without 
 these wicked luxuries, and I presume my daughter's guests 
 can." 
 
 " Madame is perfectly at liberty to decide," said M. Caval- 
 cadour. " I came to oblige Madame and my good friend Miro- 
 bolant, not myself." 
 
 " Thank you, sir, I think it will be too expensive," Rosa 
 stammered in a great flutter ; " but I am very much obliged to 
 you." 
 
 " II n'y a point d'obligation, Madame," said Monsieur Alcide 
 Camille Cavalcadour in his most superb manner ; and, making 
 a splendid bow to the lady of the house, was respectfully con- 
 ducted to the upper regions by little Buttons, leaving Rosa 
 frightened, the cook amazed and silent, and Mrs. Gashleigh 
 boiling with indignation against the dresser. 
 
 Up to that moment, Mrs. Blowser, the cook, who had come 
 out of Devonshire with Mrs. Gashleigh (of course ^that lady gar- 
 risoned her daughter's house with servants, and expected them 
 to give her information of everything which took place there) 
 — up to that moment, I say, the cook had been quite contented 
 with that subterraneous station which she occupied in life, and 
 
722 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 had a pride in keeping her kitchen neat, bright, and clean. It 
 was in her opinion, the comfortablest room in the house (we all 
 thought so when we came down of a night to smoke there), 
 and the handsomest kitchen in Lilliput Street. 
 
 But after the visit of Cavalcador, the cook became quite dis- 
 contented and uneasy in her mind. She talked in a melancholy 
 manner over the area-railings to the cooks at twenty-three and 
 twenty-five. She stepped over the way, and conferred with the 
 cook there. She made inquiries at the baker's and at other 
 places about the kitchens in the great houses in Brobdingnag 
 Gardens, and how many spits, bangmarry-pans, and stoo-pans 
 they had. She thought she could not do with an occasional 
 help, but must have a kitchen-maid. And she was often dis- 
 covered by a gentleman of the police force, who was, I believe, 
 her cousin, and occasionally visited her when Mrs. Gashleigh 
 was not in the house or spying it : — she was discovered seated 
 with Mrs. Rundell in her lap, its leaves bespattered with her 
 tears. " My pease be gone, Pelisse/' she said, "zins I zaw 
 that ther Franchman ! " And it was all the faithful fellow could 
 do to console her. 
 
 " the dinner ! " said Timmins, in a rage at last. " Hav- 
 ing it cooked in the house is out of the question. The bother 
 of it, and the row your mother makes, are enough to drive one 
 mad. It won't happen again, I can promise you, Rosa. Order 
 it at Fubsby's — from footmen to saltspoons. Let's go and order 
 it at Fubsby's." 
 
 " Darling, if you don't mind the expense, and it will be any 
 relief to you, let us do as you wish," Rosa said ; and she put on 
 her bonnet, and they went off to the grand cook and confec- 
 tioner of the Brobdingnag quarter, 
 
 v. 
 
 On the arm of her Fitzroy, Rosa went off to Fubsby's, that 
 magnificent shop at the corner of Parliament Place and Alicom- 
 payne Square, — a shop into which the rogue had often cast a 
 glance of approbation as he passed : for there are not only the 
 most wonderful and delicious cakes and confections in the win- 
 dow, but at the counter there are almost sure to be three or 
 four of the prettiest women in the whole of this world, with 
 little darling caps of the last French make, with beautiful wavy 
 hair, and the neatest possible waists and aprons. 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIltfMINS'S. 
 
 7 2 3 
 
 Yes, there they sit ; and others, perhaps, besides Fitz have 
 cast a sheep's-eye through those enormous plate-glass window- 
 panes. I suppose it is the fact of perpetually living among 
 such a quantity of good things that makes those young ladies so 
 beautiful. They come into the place, let us say, like ordinary 
 people, and gradually grow handsomer and handsomer, until 
 they grow out into the perfect angels you see. It can't be other- 
 wise ; if you and I, my dear fellow, were to have a course of 
 that place, we should become beautiful too. They live in an 
 atmosphere of the most delicious pine-apples, blancmanges, 
 creams, (some whipt, and some so good that of course they 
 don't want whipping,) jellies, tipsy-cakes, cherry-brandy — one 
 hundred thousand sweet and lovely things. Look at the pre- 
 served fruits, look at the golden ginger, the outspreading ananas, 
 the darling little rogues of China oranges, ranged in the gleam- 
 ing crystal cylinders. Mon Dieu! Look at the strawberries in 
 the leaves. Each of them is as large nearly as a lady's reticule, 
 and looks as if it had been brought up in a nursery- to itself. 
 One of those strawberries is a meal for those young ladies be- 
 hind the counter ; they nibble off a little from the side, and if 
 they are very hungry, which can scarcely ever happen, they are 
 allowed to go to the crystal canisters and take out a rout-cake 
 or macaroon. In the evening they sit and tell each other little 
 riddles out of the bonbons ; and when they wish to amuse them- 
 selves, they read the most delightful remarks, in the French 
 language, about Love, and Cupid, and Beauty, before they place 
 them inside the crackers. They always are writing down good 
 things into Mr. Fubsby's ledgers. It must be a perfect feast to 
 read them. Talk of the Garden of Eden ! I believe it was 
 nothing to Mr. Fubsby's house ; and I have no doubt that after 
 those young ladies have been there a certain time, they get to 
 such a pitch of loveliness at last, that they become complete 
 angels, with wings sprouting out of their lovely shoulders, when 
 (after giving just a preparatory balance or two) they fly up to 
 the counter and perch there for a minute, hop down again, and 
 affectionately kiss the other young ladies, and say, " Good-by, 
 dears ! We shall meet again la haut" And then with a whirr 
 of their deliciously scented wings, away they fly for good, whisk- 
 ing over the trees of Brobdingnag Square, and up into the sky, 
 as the policeman touches his hat. 
 
 It is up there that they invent the legends for the crackers, 
 and the wonderful riddles and remarks on the bonbons. No 
 mortal, I am sure, could write them. « 
 
 I never saw a man in such a state as Fitzroy Timmins in 
 
724 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 the presence of those ravishing houris. Mrs. Fitz having ex* 
 plained that they required a dinner for twenty persons, the 
 chief young lady asked what Mr. and Mrs. Fitz would like, and 
 named a thousand things, each better than the other, to all of 
 which Fitz instantly said yes. The wretch was in such a state 
 of infatuation that I believe if that lady had proposed to him a 
 fricasseed elephant, or a boa-constrictor in jelly, he would have 
 said, " O yes, certainly ; put it down." 
 
 That Peri wrote down in her album a list of things which it 
 would make your mouth water to listen to. But she took it all 
 quite calmly. Heaven bless you ! they don't care about things 
 that are no delicacies to them ! But whatever she chose to 
 write down, Fitzroy let her. 
 
 After the dinner and dessert were ordered (at Fubsby's 
 they furnish everything : dinner and dessert, plate and china, 
 servants in your own livery, and, if you please, guests of title 
 too), the married couple retreated from that shop of wonders ; 
 .Rosa delighted that the trouble of the dinner was all off their 
 hands : but she was afraid it would be rather expensive. 
 
 " Nothing can be too expensive which pleases you, dear," 
 Fitz said. 
 
 " By the way, one of those young women was rather good- 
 looking," Rosa remarked : " the one in the cap with the blue 
 ribbons." (And she cast about the shape of the cap in her 
 mind, and determined to have exactly such another.) 
 
 " Think so ? I didn't observe," said the miserable hypocrite 
 by her side ; and when he had seen Rosa home, he went back, 
 like an infamous fiend, to order something else which he had 
 forgotten, he said, at Fubsby's. Get out of that Paradise, you 
 cowardly, creeping, vile serpent you. 
 
 Until the day of the dinner, the infatuated fop was always 
 going to Fubsby's. He was rema7'ked there. He used to go 
 before he went to chambers in the morning, and sometimes on 
 his return from the Temple : but the morning was the time 
 which he preferred ; and one day, when he went on one of his 
 eternal pretexts, and was chattering and flirting at the counter, 
 a lady who had been reading yesterday's paper and eating a 
 halfpenny bun for an hour in the back shop (if that paradise 
 may be called a shop) — a lady stepped forward, laid down the 
 Morning Herald, and confronted him. 
 
 That lady was Mrs. Gashleigh. From that day the miser- 
 able Fitzroy was in her power ; and she resumed a sway over 
 his house, to shake off which had been the object of his life, 
 and the result of many battles. And for a mere freak — ("for. 
 
A LITTLE DINNER A T TIMMINS'S. 
 
 725 
 
 on going into Fubsby's a week afterwards he found the Peris 
 drinking tea out of blue cups, and eating stale bread and butter, 
 when his absurd passion instantly vanished) — I say, for a mere 
 freak, the most intolerable burden of his life was put on his 
 shoulders again — his mother-in-law. 
 
 On the day before the little dinner took place — and I pro- 
 mise you we shall come to it in the very next chapter — a tall 
 and elegant middle-aged gentleman, who might have passed 
 for an earl but that there was a slight "incompleteness about 
 his hands and feet, the former being uncommonly red, and the 
 latter large and irregular, was introduced to Mrs. Timmins by 
 the page, who announced him as Mr. Truncheon. 
 
 "I'm Truncheon, Ma'am," he said, with^a low bow. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Rosa. 
 
 " About the dinner, M'm, from Fusby's, M'm. As you 
 have no butler, M'm, I presume you will wish me to act as sich. 
 I shall bring two persons as haids to-morrow ; both answers to 
 the name of John. I'd best, if you please, inspect the premisis, 
 and will think you to allow your young man to show me the 
 pantry and kitching." 
 
 Truncheon spoke in a low voice, and with the deepest and 
 most respected melancholy. There is not much expression in 
 his eyes, but from what there is, you would fancy that he was 
 oppressed by a secret sorrow. Rosa trembled as she surveyed 
 this gentleman's size, his splendid appearance, and gravity. 
 " I am sure," she said, " I never shall dare to ask him to hand 
 a glass of water." Even Mrs. Gashleigh, when she came on 
 the morning of the actual dinner-party, to superintend matters, 
 was cowed, and retreated from the kitchen before the calm 
 majesty of Truncheon. 
 
 And yet that great man was, like all the truly great — 
 affable. 
 
 He put aside his coat and waistcoat (both of evening cut, and 
 looking prematurely splendid as he walked the streets in noon- 
 day), and did not disdain to rub the glasses and polish the 
 decanters, and to show young Buttons the proper mode of 
 preparing these articles for a dinner. And while he operated, 
 the maids, and Buttons, and cook, when she could — and what 
 had she but the vegetables to boil ? — crowded round him, and 
 listened with wonder as he talked of the great families as he 
 had lived with. That man, as they saw him there before them, 
 had been cab-boy to Lord Tantallan, valet to the Earl of 
 Bareacres, and groom of the chambers to the Duchess 
 Dowager of Fitzbattleaxe. Oh, it was delightful to hear Mr. 
 Truncheon. 
 
726 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 VI. 
 
 On the great, momentous, stupendous day of the dinner, 
 my beloved female reader may imagine that Fitzroy Timmins 
 was sent about his business at an early hour in the morning, 
 while the women began to make preparations to receive their 
 guests. " There will 'be no need of your going to Fubsby's," 
 Mrs. Gashleigh said to him, with a look that drove him out of 
 doors. " Everything that we require has been ordered there! 
 You will please to be back here at six o'clock, and not sooner : 
 and I presume you will acquiesce in my arrangements about 
 the wine!" 
 
 " O yes, mamma," said the prostrate son-in-law. 
 
 " In so large a party — a party beyond some folks' means — 
 expensive wines are absurd. The light sherry at 26^., the 
 champagne at 42^. ; and you are not to go beyond 36^. for the 
 claret and port after dinner. Mind, coffee will be served ; and 
 you come up stairs after two rounds of the claret." 
 
 " Of course, of course," acquiesced the wretch ; and hurried 
 out of the house to his chambers, and to discharge the com- 
 missions with which the womankind had intrusted him. 
 
 As for Mrs. Gashleigh you might have heard her bawling 
 over the house the whole day long. That admirable woman 
 was everywhere : in the kitchen until the arrival of Truncheon, 
 before whom she would not retreat without a battle ; on the 
 stairs ; in Fitzroy's dressing-room • and in Fitzroy minor's nurs- 
 ery, to whom she gave a dose of her own composition, while the 
 nurse was sent out on a pretext to make purchases of garnish 
 for the dishes to be served for the little dinner ! Garnish 
 for the dishes ! As if the folks at Fubsby's could not garnish 
 dishes better than Gashleigh, with her stupid old-world 
 devices of laurel-leaves, parsley, and cut turnips ! Why, 
 there was not a dish served that day that was not covered over 
 with skewers, on which truffles, crayfish, mushrooms, and forced- 
 meat were impaled. When old Gashleigh went down with her 
 barbarian bunches of holly and greens to stick about the meats, 
 even the cook saw their incongruity, and, at Truncheon's orders, 
 flung the whole shrubbery into the dust-house, where, while 
 poking about the premises, you may be sure Mrs. G. saw it. 
 
 Every candle which was to be burned that night (including 
 the tailow candle, which she said was a good enough bed-light 
 for Fitzroy) she stuck into the candlesticks with her own hands, 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. 
 
 727 
 
 giving her own high-shouldered plated candlesticks of the year 
 1798 the place of honor. She upset all poor Rosa's floral 
 arrangements, turning the nosegays from one vase into the 
 other without any pity, and was never tired of beating, and 
 pushing, and patting, and whopping the curtain and sofa dra- 
 peries into shape in the little drawing-room. 
 
 In Fitz's own apartments she revelled with peculiar pleas- 
 ure. It has been described how she had sacked his study and 
 pushed away his papers, some of which, including three cigars, 
 and the commencement of an article for the Low Magazine, 
 " Lives of the Sheriffs' Officers," he has never been able to find 
 to this day. Mamma now went into the little room in the back 
 regions, which is Fitz's dressing-room (and was destined to be 
 a cloak-room), and here she rummaged to her heart's delight. 
 
 In an incredibly short space of time she examined all his 
 outlying pockets, drawers, and letters ; she inspected his socks 
 and handkerchiefs in the top drawers ; and on the dressing- 
 table, his razors, shaving-strop, and hair-oil. She carried off 
 his silver-topped scent-bottle out of his dressing-case, and, a 
 half-dozen of his favorite pills (which Fitz possesses in com- 
 mon with every well-regulated man), and probably administered 
 them to her own family. His boots, glossy pumps, and slip- 
 pers, she pushed into the shower-bath, where the poor fellow 
 stepped into them the next morning, in the midst of a pool in 
 which they were lying. The baby was found sucking his boot- 
 hooks the next day in the nursery • and as for the bottle of 
 varnish for his shoes, (which he generally paints upon the trees 
 himself, having a pretty taste in that way,) it could never be 
 found to the present hour; but it was remarked that the young 
 Master Gashleighs, when they came home for the holidays, 
 always wore lackered highlows ; and the reader may draw his 
 conclusions from that fact. 
 
 In fiie course of the day all the servants gave Mrs. Timmins 
 warning. 
 
 The cook said she coodn't abear it no longer, 'aving Mrs. 
 G. always about her kitching, with her fingers in all the sauce- 
 pans. Mrs. G. had got her the place, but she preferred one as 
 Mrs. G. didn't get for her. 
 
 The nurse said she was come to nuss Master Fitzroy, and 
 knew her duty ; his grandmamma wasn't his nuss, and was al- 
 ways aggrawating her, — missus must shoot herself elsewhere. 
 
 The housemaid gave utterance to the same sentiments in 
 language more violent. 
 
 Little Buttons bounced up to his mistress, said he was 
 
728 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 butler of the family, Mrs. G. was always poking about his 
 pantry, and dam if he'd stand it. 
 
 At every moment Rosa grew more and more bewildered. 
 The baby howled a great deal during the day. His large china 
 christening-bowl was cracked by Mrs. Gashleigh altering the 
 * flowers in it, and pretending to be very cool whilst her hands 
 shook with rage. 
 
 " Pray go on, mamma/' Rosa said with tears in her eyes. 
 " Should you like to break the chandelier ? n 
 
 " Ungrateful, unnatural child ! " bellowed the other. " Only 
 'that I know you couldn't do without me, I'd leave the house 
 this minute." 
 
 " As you wish," said Rosa ; but Mrs. G. didn't wish : and in 
 this juncture Truncheon arrived. 
 
 That officer surveyed the dining-room, laid the cloth there 
 with admirable precision and neatness ; ranged the plate on the 
 sideboard with graceful accuracy, but objected to that old thing 
 in the centre, as he called Mrs. Gashleigh's silver basket, as 
 cumbrous and useless for the table, where they would want all 
 the room they could get. 
 
 Order was not restored to the house, nor, indeed, any decent 
 progress made, until this great man came : but where there was 
 a revolt before, and a general disposition to strike work and to 
 yell out defiance against Mrs. Gashleigh, who was sitting be- 
 wildered and furious in the drawing-room — where there was 
 before commotion, at the appearance of the master-spirit, all 
 was peace and unanimity : the cook w 7 ent back to her pans, the 
 housemaid busied herself with the china and glass, cleaning 
 some articles and breaking others, Buttons sprang up and down 
 the stairs, obedient to the orders of his chief, and all things 
 went well and in their season. 
 
 At six, the man with the wine came from Binney and Lath- 
 am's. At a quarter-past six, Timmins himself arrived. 
 
 At half past six, he might have been heard shouting out for 
 his varnished boots — but we know where those had been hidden 
 — and for his dressing things \ but Mrs. Gashleigh had put them 
 away. 
 
 As in his vain inquiries for these articles he stood shouting, 
 " Nurse ! Buttons ! Rosa my dear ! " and the most fearful exe- 
 crations up and down the stairs, Mr. Truncheon came out on 
 him. 
 
 " Igscuse me, sir," says he, " but it's impawsable. We can't 
 dice twenty at that table — not if you set 'em out awinder, we 
 can't," 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. 729 
 
 " What's to be done ? " asked Fitzroy, in an agony • " They've 
 all said they'd come." 
 
 " Can't do it," said the other; "with two top and bottom — ■ 
 and your table is as narrow as a bench — we can't hold more 
 than heighteen, and then each person's helbows will be into his 
 neighbor's cheer." 
 
 " Rosa ! Mrs. Gashleigh ! " cried out Timmins, 66 come down 
 and speak to this gentl this " 
 
 "Truncheon, sir," said the man. 
 
 The woman descended from the drawing-room. " Look and 
 see, ladies," he said, inducting them into the dining-room : 
 "there's the room, there's the table laid for heighteen, and I 
 defy you to squeege in more." 
 
 " One person in a party always fails," said Mrs. Gashleigh, 
 getting alarmed. 
 
 "That's nineteen," Mr. Truncheon remarked. "We must 
 knock another hoff, Ma'm." And he looked her hard in the face. 
 
 Mrs. Gashleigh was very red and nervous, and paced, or 
 rather squeezed round the table (it was as much as she could 
 do). The chairs could not be put any closer than they were 
 It was impossible, unless the convive sat as a centre-piece in the 
 middle, to put another guest at that table. 
 
 " Look at that lady movin' round, sir. You see now the 
 difficklty. If my men wasn't thinner, they couldn't hoperate 
 at all," Mr. Truncheon observed, who seemed to have a spite to 
 Mrs. Gashleigh. 
 
 " What is to be done ? " she said, with purple accents. 
 
 " My dearest mamma," Rosa cried out, "you must stop at 
 home — how sorry I am ! " And she shot one glance at Fitz- 
 roy, who shot another at the great Truncheon, who held down 
 his eyes. "We could manage with heighteen." he said, mildly. 
 
 Mrs. Gashleigh gave a hideous laugh. 
 
 # # # # # 
 
 She went away. At eight o'clock she was pacing at the 
 corner of the street, and actually saw the company arrive. 
 First came the Topham Sawyers, in their light-blue carriage 
 with the white hammer-cloth and blue and white ribbons — 
 their footmen drove the house down with the knocking. 
 
 Then followed the ponderous and snufT-colored vehicle, with 
 faded gilt wheels and brass earl's coronets all over it, the con- 
 veyance of the House of Bungay. The Countess of Bungay 
 and daughter stepped out of the carriage. The fourteenth 
 Earl of Bungay couldn't come. 
 
 Sir Thomas and Lady Gulpin's fly made its appearance, 
 
s \ 
 
 73 o STOXIES. 
 
 from which issued the General with his star, and Lady Gulpin 
 in yellow satin. The Rowdys' brougham followed next • aftei 
 which Mrs. Butt's handsome equipage drove up. 
 
 The two friends of the house, young gentlemen from the 
 Temple, now arrived in cab No. 9996. We tossed up, in fact* 
 which should pay the fare. 
 
 Mr. Ranville Ranville walked, and was dusting his boots as 
 the Templars drove up. Lord Castlemouldy came out of a 
 twopenny omnibus. Funnyman, the wag, came last, whirling 
 up rapidly in a hansom, just as Mrs. Gashleigh, with rage in 
 her heart, was counting that two people had failed, and that 
 there were only seventeen after all. 
 
 Mr. Truncheon passed our names to Mr. Billiter, who 
 bawled them out on the stairs. Rosa was smiling in a pink 
 dress, and looking as fresh as an angel, and received her com- 
 pany with that grace which has always characterized her. 
 
 The moment of the dinner arrived, old Lady Bungay 
 scuffled off on the arm of Fitzroy, while the rear was brought 
 up by Rosa and Lord Castlemouldy, of Ballyshanvanvoght Cas- 
 tle, co. Tipperary. Some fellows who had the luck, took down 
 ladies to dinner. I was not sorry to be out of the way of Mrs. 
 Rowdy, with her dandyfied airs, or of that high and mighty 
 county princess, Mrs. Topham Sawyer. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Of course it does not become the present writer, who has 
 partaken of the best entertainment which his friends could 
 supply, to make fun of their (somewhat ostentatious, as it must 
 be confessed) hospitality. If they gave a dinner beyond their 
 .means, it is no business of mine. I hate a man who goes and 
 eats a friend's meat, and then blabs the secrets of the ma- 
 hogany. Such a man deserves never to be asked to dinner 
 again ; and though at the close of a London season that seems 
 no great loss, and you sicken of a whitebait as you would of a 
 whale — yet we must always remember that there's another sea- 
 son coming, and hold our tongues for the present. 
 
 As for describing, then, the mere victuals on Timmins's ta- 
 ble, that would be absurd. Everybody — (I mean of the gen- 
 teel world of course, of which I make no doubt the reader is 
 a polite ornament) — Everybody has the same everything in 
 
A LITTLE DINNER AT TIMMINS'S. 
 
 731 
 
 London. You see the same coats, the same dinners, the same 
 boiled fowls and mutton, the same cutlets, fish, and cucumbers, 
 the same lumps of Wenham Lake ice, &c. The waiters with 
 white neck-cloths are as like each other everywhere as the 
 pease which they hand round with the ducks of the second 
 course. Can't any one invent anything new ? . 
 
 The only difference between Timmins's dinner and his 
 neighbor's was, that he had hired, as we have said, the greater 
 part of the plate, and that his cowardly conscience magnified 
 faults and disasters of which no one else probably took heed. 
 
 But Rosa thought, from the supercilious air with which 
 Mrs. Topham Sawyer was eyeing the pl^te and other arrange- 
 ments, that she was remarking the difference of the ciphers on 
 the forks and spoons — (which had, in fact, been borrowed from 
 every one of Fitzroy's friends — I know, for instance, that he 
 had my six, among others, and only returned five, along with 
 a battered old black-pronged plated abomination, which I have 
 no doubt belongs to Mrs. Gashleigh, whom I hereby request to 
 send back mine in exchange) — their guilty consciences, I say, 
 made them fancy that every one was spying out their domestic 
 deficiencies : whereas, it is probable that nobody present thought 
 of their failings at all. People never do : they never see holes 
 in their neighbors' coats — they are too indolent, simple, and 
 charitable. 
 
 Some things, however, one could not help remarking : for 
 instance, though Fitz is my closest friend, yet could I avoid 
 seeing and being amused by his perplexity and his dismal ef- 
 forts to be facetious ? His eye wandered all round the little 
 room with quick uneasy glances, very different from those frank 
 and jovial looks with which he is accustomed to welcome you to 
 a leg of mutton ; and Rosa, from the other end of the table, and 
 over the flowers, entree dishes, and wine-coolers, telegraphed 
 him with signals of corresponding alarm. Poor devils ! why 
 did they ever go beyond that leg of mutton ? 
 
 Funnyman was not brilliant in conversation, scarcely open- 
 ing his mouth, except for the purposes of feasting The fact 
 is, our friend Tom Dawson was at table, who knew all his sto- 
 ries, and in his presence the greatest wag is always silent and 
 uneasy. 
 
 Fitz has a very pretty wit of his own, and a good reputation 
 on circuit ; but he is timid before great people. And indeed 
 the .presence of that awful Lady Bungay on his right hand was 
 enough to damp him. She was in court mourning (for the 
 late Prince of Schlippenschloppen). She had on a large black 
 
 47 
 
73 2 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 funeral turban and appurtenances, and a vast breastplate of 
 twinkling, twiddling black bugles. No wonder a man could 
 not be gay in talking to her. 
 
 Mrs. Rowdy and Mrs. Topham Sawyer love each other as 
 women do who have the same receiving nights, and ask the 
 same society ; they were only separated by Ranville Ranville, 
 who tries to be well with both : and they talked at each other 
 across him. 
 
 Topham and Rowdy growled out a conversation about 
 Rum, Ireland, and the Navagation Laws, quite unfit for print. 
 Sawyer never speaks three words without mentioning the House 
 and the Speaker. • 
 
 The Irish Peer said nothing (which was a comfort) ; but he 
 ate and drank of everything which came in his way ; and cut his 
 usual absurd figure in dyed whiskers and a yellow under-waist- 
 coat. 
 
 General Gulpin sported his star, and looked fat and florid, 
 but melancholy. His wife ordered away his dinner, just like 
 honest Sancho's physician at Barataria. 
 
 Botherby's stories about Lamartine are as old as the hills, 
 since the barricades of 1848 ; and he could not get in a word 
 or cut the slightest figure. And as for Tom Dawson, he was 
 carrying on an undertoned small-talk with Lady Barbara St. 
 Mary's, so that there was not much conversation worth record 
 going on within the dining-room. 
 
 " Outside it was different. Those houses in Lilliput Street are 
 so uncommonly compact, that you can hear everything which 
 takes place all over the tenement ; and so — 
 
 In the awful pauses of the banquet, and the hall-door being 
 furthermore open, we had the benefit of hearing : 
 
 The cook, and the occasional cook, below stairs, exchang- 
 ing rapid phrases regarding the dinner ; 
 
 The smash of the soup-tureen, and swift descent of the 
 kitchen-maid and soup-ladle down the stairs to the lower 
 regions. This accident created a laugh, and rather amused 
 Fitzroy and the company, and caused Funnyman to say, bow- 
 ing to Rosa, that she was mistress of herself, though China fall. 
 But she did not heed him, for at that moment another noise 
 commenced, namely, that of — 
 
 The baby in the upper rooms, who commenced a series 
 of piercing yells, which, though stopped by the sudden clap- 
 ping to of the nursery door, were only more dreadful to' the 
 mother when suppressed. She would have given a guinea to 
 go up stairs and have done with the whole entertainment. 
 
 V 
 
A LITTLE DINNER A T TIMMINS 'S. 
 
 733 
 
 A thundering knock came at the door very early after the 
 dessert, and the poor soul took a speedy opportunity of sum- 
 moning the ladies to depart, though you may be sure it was 
 only old Mrs. Gashlaigh, who had come with her daughters — 
 of course the first person to come. I saw her red gown whisk- 
 ing up the stairs, which were covered with plates and dishes, 
 over which she trampled. 
 
 Instead of having any quiet after the retreat of the ladies, 
 the house was kept in a rattle, and the glasses jingled on the 
 table as the flymen and coachmen plied the knocker, and 
 the sohe'e came in. From my place I could see everything: 
 the guests as they arrived (I remarked very few carriages, 
 mostly cabs and flies), and a little crowd of blackguard boys 
 and children, who were formed round the door, and gave ironi- 
 cal cheers to the folks as they stepped out of their vehicles. 
 
 As for the evening-party, if a crowd in the dog-days is pleas- 
 ant, poor Mrs. Timmins certainly had a successful soiree. You 
 could hardly move on the stair. - Mrs. Sternhold broke in the 
 banisters, and nearly fell through. There was such a noise 
 and chatter you could not hear the singing of the Miss Gash- 
 leighs, which was no great loss. Lady Bungay could hardly 
 get to her carriage, being entangled with Colonel Wedgewood 
 in the passage. An absurd attempt was made to get up a dance 
 of some kind ; but before Mrs. Crowder had got round the 
 room, the hanging-lamp in the dining-room below was stove in, 
 and fell with a crash on the table, now prepared for refresh- 
 ment. 
 
 Why, in fact, did the Timminses give that party at all ? It 
 was quite beyond their means. They have offended a score 
 of their old friends, and pleased none of their acquaintances. 
 So angry were many who were not asked, that poor Rosa says 
 she must now give a couple more parties and take in those not 
 previously invited. And I know for a fact that Fubsby's bill 
 is not yet paid ; nor Binney and Latham's the wine-merchants ; 
 that the breakage and hire of glass and china cost ever so much 
 money ; that every true friend of Timmins has cried out against 
 his absurd extravagance, and that now, when every one is go- 
 ing out of town, Fitz has hardly money to pay his circuit, much 
 more to take Rosa to a watering-place, as he wished and 
 promised. 
 
 As for Mrs. Gashleigh, the only feasible plan of economy 
 which she can suggest, is that she should come and live with 
 her daughter and son-in-law, and that they should keep house 
 together. If he agrees to this, she has a little sum at the 
 
734 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 banker's, with which she would not mind easing his present 
 difficulties ; and the poor wretch is so utterly bewildered and 
 crest-fallen that it is very likely he will become her victim. 
 
 The Topham Sawyers, when they go 4pwn into the country, 
 will represent Fitz as a ruined man and reckless prodigal ; his 
 uncle, the attorney, from whom he has expectations, will most 
 likely withdraw his business, and adopt some other member of 
 his family — Blanche Crowder for instance, whose husband, the 
 doctor, has had high words with poor Fitzroy already, of course 
 at the women's instigation. And all these accumulated miser- 
 ies fall upon the unfortunate wretch because he was good- 
 natured, and his wife would have a Little Dinner, 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 JANUARY.— THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR. 
 
 Some poet has observed, that if any man would write down 
 what has really happened to him in this mortal life, he would 
 be sure to make a -good book, though he never had met with a 
 tingle adventure from his birth to his burial. How much more, 
 then, must I, who have had adventures, most singular, pathetic, 
 and unparalleled, be able to compile an instructive and enter^ 
 taining volume for the use of the public. 
 
 I don't mean to say that I have killed lions, or seen the 
 wonders of travel in the deserts of Arabia or Prussia ; or that 
 I have been a very fashionable character, living with dukes and 
 peeresses, and writing my recollections of them, as the way 
 now is. I never left this my native isle, nor spoke to a lord 
 (except an Irish one, who had jpoms in our house, and forgot 
 to pay three weeks* lodging and extras) ; but, as our immortal 
 bard observes, I have in the course of my existence been so 
 eaten up by the slugs and harrows of outrageous fortune, and 
 have been the object of such continual and extraordinary ill- 
 luck, that I believe it would melt the heart of a milestone to 
 read of it — that is, if a milestone had a heart of anything but 
 stone. 
 
 Twelve of my adventures, suitable for meditation and per- 
 usal during the twelve months of the year, have been arranged 
 by me for this work. They contain a part of the history of a 
 great, and, confidently I may say, a good man. I was not a 
 spendthrift like other men. I never wronged any man of a 
 shilling, though I am as sharp a fellow at a bargain as any in 
 Eurooe. I never injured a fellow-creature ; on the contrary, 
 
 (735) 
 
73 6 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 on several occasions, when injured myself, have shown the 
 most wonderful forbearance. I come of a tolerably good 
 family ; and yet, born to wealth — of an inoffensive disposition, 
 careful of the money that I had, and eager to get more, — I 
 have been going down hill ever since my journey of life began, 
 and have been pursued by a complication of misfortunes such 
 as surely never happened to any man but the unhappy Bob 
 Stubbs. 
 
 • Bob Stubbs is my name ; and I haven't got a shilling : I 
 have borne the commission of lieutenant in the service of King 
 George, and am noiv — but never mind what I am now, for the 
 public will know in a few pages more. My father was of the 
 Suffolk Stubbses — a well-to-do gentleman of Bungay. My 
 grandfather had been a respected attorney in that town, and 
 left my papa a pretty little fortune. I was thus the inheritor of 
 competence, and ought to be at this moment a gentleman. 
 
 My misfortunes may be said to have commenced about a 
 ) r ear before my birth, when my papa, a young fellow pretending 
 to study the law in London, fell madly in love with Miss Smith, 
 the daughter of a tradesman, who did not give her a sixpence, 
 and afterwards became bankrupt. My papa married this Miss 
 Smith, and carried her off to the country, where I was born, in 
 an evil hour for me. 
 
 Were I to attempt to describe my early years, you would 
 laugh at me as an impostor ; but the following letter from 
 mamma to a friend, after her marriage, will pretty well show 
 you what a poor foolish creature she was ; and what a reckless 
 extravagant fellow was my other unfortunate parent : — 
 
 " TO MISS ELIZA KICKS, IN GRACECHURCH STREET, LONDON. 
 
 " Oh, Eliza ! your Susan is the happiest girl under heaven ! 
 My Thomas is an angel ! not a tall grenadier-like looking 
 fellow, such as I always vowed I would marry : — on the con- 
 trary, he is what the world would call dumpy, and I hesitate 
 not to confess, that his eyes have a cast in them. But what 
 then ? when one of his eyes is fixed on me, and one on my 
 babe, they are lighted up with an affection which my pen can- 
 not describe, and which, certainly, was never bestowed upon 
 any woman so strongly as upon your happy Susan Stubbs. 
 
 "When he comes home from shooting, or the farm, if you 
 could see dear Thomas with me and our dear little Bob ! as I 
 sit on one knee, and baby on the other, and he dances us both 
 about. I often wish that we had Sir Joshua, or some great 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 737 
 
 painter, to depict the group ; for sure it is the prettiest picture 
 in the whole world, to see three such loving merry people. 
 
 " Dear baby is the most lovely little creature that can possi- 
 bly be,— the very image of papa ; he is cutting his teeth, and the 
 delight of everybody. Nurse says that when he is older, he will 
 get rid of his squint and his hair will get a great deal less red. 
 Doctor Bates is as kind, and skilful, and attentive as we could 
 desire. Think what a blessing to have had him ! Ever since 
 poor baby's birth, it has never had a day of quiet ; and he has 
 been obliged to give it from three to four doses every week • — 
 how thankful ought we to be that the dear thing is as well as it 
 is ! It got through the measles wonderfully ; then it had a 
 little rash • and then a nasty hooping-cough ; and then a fever, 
 and continual pains in its poor little stomach, crying, poor dear 
 child, from morning till night. 
 
 " But dear Tom is an excellent nurse ; and many and many 
 a night has he had no sleep, dear man ! in consequence of the 
 poor little baby. He walks up and down with it for hours, 
 singing a kind of song (dear fellow, he has no more voice than 
 a tea-kettle), and bobbing his head backwards and forwards, 
 and looking in his nightcap and dressing-gown, so drolL Oh, 
 Eliza ! how you would laugh to see him. 
 
 " We have one of the best nursemaids in the world, — an 
 Irishwoman, who is as fond of baby almost as his mother (but 
 that can never be). She takes it to walk in the park for hours 
 together, and I /really don't know, why Thomas dislikes her. 
 He says she is tipsy, very often, and slovenly, which I cannot 
 conceive ; — to be sure the nurse is sadly dirty, and sometimes 
 smells very strong of gin. 
 
 " But what of that ? — these little drawbacks only make 
 home more pleasant. When one thinks how many mothers 
 have no nursemaids : how many poor dear children have no 
 doctors : ought we not to be thankful for Mary Malowney, and 
 that Dr. Bates's bill is forty-seven pounds ? How ill must dear 
 baby have been, to require so much physic ! 
 
 " But they are a sad expense, these dear babies, after all. 
 Fancy, Eliza, how much this Mary Malowney costs us. Ten 
 shillings every week ; a glass of brandy or gin at dinner ; three 
 pint-bottles of Mr. Thrale's best porter every day, — making 
 twenty-one in a week, and nine hundred and ninety in the 
 eleven months she has been with us. Then, for baby, there is 
 Dr. Bates's bill of forty-five guineas, two guineas for christen- 
 ing, twenty for a grand christening supper and ball (rich uncle 
 John mortally offended because he was made godfather, and 
 
738 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 had to give baby a silver cup : he has struck Thomas out ot 
 his will : and old Mr. Firkin quite as much hurt because he 
 was not asked : he will not speak to me or Thomas in conse- 
 quence) ; twenty guineas for flannels, laces, little gowns, caps, 
 napkins, and such baby's ware : and all this out of 300/. a 
 year ! .But Thomas expects to make a great deal by his farm. 
 
 " We have got the most charming country-house you can 
 imagine : it is quite shut in by trees, and so retired that, though 
 only thirty miles from London, the post comes to us but once a 
 week. The roads, it must be confessed, are execrable ; it is 
 winter now, and we are up to our knees in mud and snow. 
 But oh, Eliza ! how happy we are : with Thomas (he has had a 
 sad attack of rheumatism, dear man !) and little Bobby, and our 
 kind friend Dr. Bates, who comes so far to see us, I leave you 
 to fancy that we have a charming merry party, and do not care 
 for all the gayeties of Ranelagh. 
 
 " Adieu ! dear baby is crying for his mamma. A thousand 
 kisses from your affectionate 
 
 " Susan Stubbs." 
 There it is ! Doctor's bills, gentleman-farming, twenty-one 
 pints of porter a week. In this way my unnatural parents were 
 already robbing me of my property. 
 
 FEBRUARY.— CUTTING WEATHER. 
 
 I have called this chapter " cutting weather," partly in com- 
 pliment to the month of February, and partly in respect of my 
 own misfortunes, which you are going to read about. For I 
 have often thought that January (which is mostly twelfth-cake 
 and holiday time) is like the first four or five years of a little 
 boy's life ; then comes dismal February, and the working-days 
 with it, when chaps begin to look out for themselves, after the 
 Christmas and the New Year's heyday and merry-making are 
 over, which our infancy may well be said to be. Well can I 
 recollect that bitter first of February, when I first launched out 
 out into the world and appeared at Doctor Swishtail's academy, 
 
 I began at school that life of prudence and economy which 
 I have carried on ever since. My mother gave me eighteen- 
 pence on setting out (poor soul ! I thought her heart would break 
 as she kissed me, and bade God bless me) ; and, besides, I 
 had a small capital of my own, which I had amassed for a year 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 739 
 
 previous. I'll tell you what I used to do. Wherever I saw six 
 halfpence I took one. If it was asked for, I said I had taken 
 it, and gave it back ; — if it was not missed, I said nothing 
 about it, as why should I ? — those who don't miss their money 
 don't lose their money. So I had a little private fortune of 
 three shillings, besides mother's eighteenpence. At school 
 they called me the copper merchant, I had such lots of it. 
 
 Now, even at a preparatory school, a well-regulated boy may 
 better himself : and I can tell you I did. I never was in 
 any quarrels : I never was very high in the class or very low ; 
 but there was no chap so much respected : — and why ? / V/ 
 always mo7iey. The other boys spent all theirs in the first 
 day or two, and they gave me plenty of cakes and barley-sugar 
 then, I can tell you. I'd no need to spend my own money, for 
 they would insist upon treating me. Well, in a week, when 
 theirs was gone, and they had but their threepence a week to 
 look to for the rest of the half-year, what did I do ? Why, I 
 am proud to say that three-halfpence out of the three-pence a 
 week of almost all the young gentlemen at Dr. Swishtail's came 
 into my pocket. Suppose for instance, Tom Hicks wanted a 
 slice of gingerbread, who had the money ? Little Bob Stubbs, 
 to be sure. " Hicks," I used to say, " I'll buy you three half- 
 p'orth of gingerbread, if you'll give me threepence next Satur- 
 day." And he agreed ; and next. Saturday came, and he very 
 often could not pay me more than three-halfpence. Then there 
 was the threepence I was to have the next Saturday. I'll tell 
 you what I did for a whole half-year : — I lent a chap by the 
 name of Dick Bunting, three-halfpence the first Saturday for 
 threepence the next : he could not pay me more than half 
 when Saturday came, and I'm blest if I did not make him pay 
 me three-halfpence for three-and-twe?ity weeks running, making 
 two shillings and tenpence-halfpenny. But he was a sad dis- 
 honorable fellow, Dick Bunting ; for after I'd been so kind to 
 him, and let him off for three-and-twenty-weeks the money he 
 owed me, holidays came, and threepence he owed me still. 
 Well, according to the common principles of practice, after six 
 weeks' holidays, he ought to have paid me exactly sixteen 
 shillings, which was my due. For the 
 
 First week the id. would be 6d Fourth week 4s. 
 
 Second week is. Fifth week 8s. 
 
 Third week 2s. Sixth week , . i6s. 
 
 Nothing could be more just ; and yet — will it be believed ? — 
 when Bunting came back he offered me three-halfpence ! the 
 maan 9 dishonest scoundrel. 
 
STORIES. 
 
 However, I was even with him, I can tell you. — He spent 
 all his money in a fortnight, and then I screwed him down ! I 
 made him, besides giving me a penny for a penny, pay me a 
 quarter of his bread-and-butter at breakfast and a quarter of 
 his cheese at supper ; and before the half-year was out, I got 
 from him a silver fruit-knife, a box of compasses, and a very 
 pretty silver-laced waiscoat, in which I went home as proud as 
 a king : and what's more, I had no less than three golden guineas 
 in the pocket of it, besides fifteen shillings, the knife, and a 
 brass bottle-screw, which I got from another chap. It wasn't 
 bad interest for twelve shillings — which was all the money I'd 
 had in the year — was it ? Heigho ! I've often wished that I 
 could get such a chance again in this wicked world ; but men 
 are more avaricious now than they used to be in those dear early 
 days. 
 
 Well, I went home in my new waistcoat as fine as a peacock ; 
 and when I gave the bottle-screw to my father, begging him to 
 take it as a token of my affection for him, my dear mother 
 burst into such a fit of tears as I never saw, and kissed and 
 hugged me fit to smother me. " Bless him, bless him," says 
 she, " to think of his old father. And where did you purchase 
 it, Bob ? " — " Why, mother," says I, " I purchased it out of my 
 savings " (which was as true as the gospel). — When I said this, 
 mother looked round to father, smiling, although she had tears 
 in her eyes, and she took his hand, and with her other hand 
 drew me to her. " Is he not a noble boy ? " says she to my 
 father : " and only nine years old j " — " Faith," says my father, 
 he is :i good lad, Susan. Thank thee, my boy : and here is a 
 crown-piece in return for thy bottle-screw : — it shall open us a 
 bottle of the very best too," says my father. And he kept his 
 word. I always was fond of good wine (though never, from a 
 motive of proper self-denial, having any in my cellar) ; and, by 
 Jupiter ! on this night I had my little skinful, — for there was 
 no stinting, — so pleased were my dear parents with the bottle- 
 screw. The best of it was, it only cost me threepence originally 
 which a chap could not pay me. 
 
 Seeing this game was such a good one, I became very 
 generous towards my parents ; and a capital way it is to 
 encourage liberality in children. I gave mamma a very neat 
 brass thimble, and she gave me a half-guinea piece. Then I 
 gave her a very pretty needle-book, which I made myself with an 
 ace of spades from a new pack of caids we had, and I got Sally, 
 our maid, to cover it with a bit of pink satin her mistress had 
 given her • and I made the leaves of the book, which I van- 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 741 
 
 dyked very nicely, out of a piece of flannel I had had round my 
 neck for a sore throat. It smelt a little of hartshorn, but it was 
 a beautiful needle-book ; and mamma was so delighted with it, 
 that she went into town and bought me a gold-laced hat. 
 Then I bought papa a pretty china tobacco-stopper : but I am 
 sorry to say of my dear father that he was not so generous as 
 my mamma or myself, for he only burst out laughing, and did 
 not give me so much as a half-crown piece, which was the least 
 I expected from him. " I sha'n't give you anything, Bob, this 
 time," says he ; " and I wish, my boy, you would not make any 
 more such presents, — for, really, they are too expensive." Ex- 
 pensive indeed ! I hate meanness, — even in a father. 
 
 I must tell you about the silver-edged waistcoat which 
 Bunting gave me. Mamma asked me about it, and I told her 
 the truth, — that it was a present from one of the boys for my 
 kindness to him. Well, what does she do but writes back to 
 Dr. Swishtail, when I went to school, thanking him for his 
 attention to her dear son, and sending a shilling to the good 
 and grateful little boy who had given me the waistcoat ! 
 
 " What waistcoat is it," says the Doctor to me, " and who 
 gave it to you ? 
 
 " Bunting gave it me, sir," says I. 
 
 " Call Bunting ! " And up the little ungrateful chap came. 
 Would you believe it, he burst into tears, — told that the waist- 
 coat had been given him by his mother, and that he had been 
 forced to give it for a debt to Copper Merchant, as the nasty 
 little blackguard called me ? He then said how, for three- 
 halfpence, he had been compelled to pay me three shillings 
 (the sneak ! as if he had been obliged to borrow the three-half- 
 pence !) — how all the other boys had been swindled (swindled !) 
 by me in like manner, — and how, with only twelve shillings, I 
 had managed to scrape together four guineas. * * * * 
 
 My courage almost fails me as I describe the shameful scene 
 that followed. The boys were called in, my little account-book 
 was dragged out of my cupboard, to prove how much I had 
 received from each, and every farthing of my money was paid 
 back to them. The tyrant took the thirty shillings that my dear 
 parents had given me, and said he should put them into the 
 poor-box at church ; and, after having made a long discourse 
 to the boys aboutf meanness and usury, he said, " Take off your 
 coat, Mr. Stubbs, and restore Bunting his waistcoat." I did, 
 and stood without coat and waistcoat in the midst of the nasty 
 grinning boys. I was going to put on my coat, — 
 
 " Stop! " says he. " Take down his Breeches ! " 
 
742 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 Ruthless, brutal villain ! Sam Hopkins, the biggest boy, 
 took them down — horsed me — and I was flogged, sir: yes 
 flogged ! O revenge ! I, Robert Stubbs, who had done noth- 
 ing but what was right, was brutally flogged at ten years of age ! 
 — Though February was the shortest month, I remembered it 
 long. 
 
 MARCH— SHOWERY. 
 
 When my mamma heard of the treatment of her darling 
 she was for bringing an action against the schoolmaster,, or else 
 for tearing his eyes out (when, dear soul ! she would not have 
 torn the eyes out of a flea, had it been her own injury), and, at 
 the very least, for having me removed from the school where I 
 had been so shamefully treated. But papa was stern for once, 
 and vowed that I had been served quite right, declared that I 
 should not be removed from the school, and sent old Swishtail 
 a brace of pheasants for what he called his kindness to me. 
 Of these the old gentleman invited me to partake, and made 
 a very queer speech at dinner, as he was cutting them up, about 
 the excellence of my parents, and his own determination to be 
 kinder still to me, if ever I ventured on such practices again. 
 So I was obliged to give up my old trade of lending : for the 
 Doctor declared that any boy who borrowed should be flogged, 
 and any one who paid should be flogged twice as much. There 
 was no standing against such a prohibition as this, and my little 
 commerce was ruined. 
 
 I was not very high in the school : not having been able to 
 get farther than that dreadful Propria quce maribuo in the Latin 
 grammar, of which, though I have it by heart even now, I never 
 could understand a syllable : but, on account of my size, my 
 age, and the prayers of my mother, was allowed to have the 
 privilege of the bigger boys, and on holidays to walk about in 
 the town. Great dandies we were, too, when we thus went out. 
 I recollect my costume very well : a thunder-and-lightning coat, 
 a white waistcoat embroidered neatly at the pockets, a lace frill, 
 a pair of knee breeches, and elegant white cotton or silk stock- 
 ings. This did very well, but still I was dissatisfied : I wanted 
 a pair of boots. Three boys in the school had boots — I was 
 mad to have them too. 
 
 But my papa, when I wrote to him, would not hear of it ; 
 and three pounds, the price of a pair, was too large a sum for 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 743 
 
 my mother to take from the housekeeping, or for me to pay, 
 in the present impoverished state of my exchequer ; but the 
 desire for the boots was so strong, that have them I must at 
 any rate. 
 
 There was a German bootmaker who had just set up in our 
 town in those days, who afterwards made his fortune in London. 
 I determined to have the boots from him, and did not despair, 
 before the end of a year or two, either to leave the school, when 
 I should not mind his dunning me, or to screw the money from 
 mamma, and so pay him. 
 
 So I called upon this man — Stiffelkind was his name — and 
 he took my measure for a pair. 
 
 " You are a vary yong gentleman to wear dop-boots," said 
 the shoemaker. 
 
 "I suppose, fellow," says I, "that is my business and not 
 yours. Either make the boots or not — but when you speak to 
 a man of my rank, speak respectfully ! " And I poured out a 
 number of oaths, in order to impress him with a notion of my 
 respectability. 
 
 They had the desired effect. " Stay, sir," says he. " I 
 have a nice littel pair of dop-boots dat I tink will jost do for 
 you." And he produced, sure enough, the most elegant things 
 I ever saw. " Day were made," said he, " for de Honorable 
 Mr. Stiffney, of de Gards, but were too small." 
 
 " Ah, indeed ! " said I. " Stiffney is a relation of mine. 
 And what, you scoundrel, will you have the impudence to ask 
 for these things ? " He replied, " Three pounds." 
 
 " Well," said I, " they are confoundedfy dear ; but, as you 
 will have a long time to wait for your money, why, I shall have 
 my revenge you see." The man looked alarmed, and began a 
 
 speech : " Sare, — I cannot let dem go vidout " but a bright 
 
 thought struck me, and I interrupted — " Sir ! don't sir me. 
 Take off the boots, fellow, and, hark ye, when you speak to a 
 nobleman, don't say — Sir." 
 
 " A hundert tousand pardons, my lort," says he : a if I had 
 known you were a lort, I vood never have called you — Sir. 
 Vat name shall I put down in my books ? " 
 
 " Name ? — ah ! why, Lord Cornwallis, to be sure," said I, 
 as I walked off in the boots. 
 
 " And vat shall I do vid my lort's shoes ? " 
 
 " Keep them until I send for them," said I. And, giving 
 him a patronizing bow, I walked out of the shop, as the Ger- 
 man tied up my shoes in paper. 
 
 # # # * . # 
 
744 STORIES. 
 
 This story I would not have told, but that my whole life 
 turned upon these accursed boots. I walked back to school as 
 proud as a peacock, and easily succeeded in satisfying the 
 boys as to the manner in which I came by my new ornaments. 
 
 Well, one fatal Monday morning — the blackest of all black- 
 Mondays that ever I knew — as we were all of us playing be- 
 tween school-hours, I saw a posse of boys round a stranger, 
 who seemed to be looking out for one of us. A sudden trem- 
 bling seized me — I knew it was Stiffelkind. What had brought 
 him here ? He talked loud, and seemed angry. So I rushed 
 into the school-room, and burying my head between my hands, 
 began reading for dear life. 
 
 " I vant Lort Cornvallis, " said the horrid bootmaker. 
 " His lortship belongs, I know, to dis honorable school, for I 
 saw him vid de boys at chorch yesterday." 
 
 " Lord who ? " 
 
 " Vy, Lort Cornvallis to be sure — a very fat yong nobleman, 
 vid red hair : he squints a little, and svears dreadfully." 
 
 " There's no Lord Cornvallis here," said one ; and there 
 was a pause. 
 
 " Stop! I have it," says that odious Bunting. u It must be 
 Stubbs ./" And " Stubbs ! Stubbs ! " every one cried out, while 
 I was so busy at my book as not to hear a word. 
 
 At least, two of the biggest chaps rushed into the school- 
 room, and seizing eacR an arm, run me into the playground — 
 bolt up against the shoemaker. 
 
 " Dis is my man. I beg your lortship's pardon," says he, 
 " I have brought your lortship's shoes, vich you left. See, dey 
 have been in dis parcel ever since you vent away in my boots." 
 
 " Shoes, fellow ! " says I. " I never saw your face before !" 
 For I knew there was nothing for it but brazening it out. 
 " Upon the honor of a gentleman ! " said I, turning round to 
 the boys. They hesitated ; and if the trick had turned in my 
 favor, fifty of them would have seized hold of Stiffelkind and 
 drubbed him soundly. 
 
 " Stop ! " says Bunting (hang him !). " Let's see the shoes. 
 If they fit him, why then the cobbler's right." They did fit 
 me ; and not only that, but the name of Stubbs was written in 
 them at full length. 
 
 " Vat ! " said Stiffelkind. " Is he not a lort ? So help me 
 Himmel, I never did vonce tink of looking at de shoes, which 
 have been lying ever since in dis piece of brown paper." And 
 then, gathering anger as he went on, he thundered out so much 
 of his abuse of me, in his German-English, that the boys roared 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 745 
 
 with laughter. Swishtail came in in the midst of the disturb- 
 ance, and asked what the noise meant. 
 
 "It's only Lord Cornwallis, sir,'* said the boys, "battling 
 with his shoemaker about the price of a pair of top-boots." 
 
 "Oh, sir," said I, "it was only in fun that I called myself 
 Lord Cornwallis." 
 
 "In fun ! — Where are the boots ? And you, sir, give me 
 your bill." My beautiful boots were brought ; and Stiffelkind 
 produced his bill. " Lord Cornwallis to Samuel Stiffelkind, 
 for a pair of boots— four guineas." 
 
 "You have been fool enough, sir," says the Doctor, looking 
 very stern, " to let this boy impose on you as a lord ; and 
 knave enough to charge him double the value of the article you 
 sold him. Take back the boots, sir ! I won't pay a penny of 
 your bill ; nor can you get a penny. As for you, sir, you miser- 
 able swindler and cheat, I shall not flog you as I did before, 
 but I shall send you home : you are not fit to be the companion 
 of honest boys." 
 
 " Suppose we duck him before he goes ? " piped out a very 
 small voice. The Doctor grinned significantly, and left the 
 school-room ; and the boys knew by this they might have their 
 will. They seized me and carried me to the playground pump : 
 they pumped upon me until I was half dead ; and the monster, 
 Stiffelkind, stood looking on for the half-hour the operation 
 lasted. 
 
 I suppose the Doctor, at last, thought I had had pumping 
 enough, for he rang the school-bell, and the boys were obliged 
 to leave me. As I got out of the trough, Stiffelkind was alone 
 with me. " Veil, my lort," says he, " you paid something for 
 dese boots, but not all. By Jubider, you shall never hear de end 
 ofdemr And I didn't. 
 
 V 
 
 APRIL.— FOOLING 
 
 After this, as you may fancy, I left this disgusting estab- 
 lishment, and lived for some time along with pa and mamma at 
 home. My education was finished, at least mamma and I 
 agreed that it was ; and from boyhood until hobbadyhoyhood 
 (which I take . to be about the sixteenth year of the life of a 
 young man, and may be likened to the month of April when 
 
746 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 spring begins to bloom) — from fourteen until seventeen, I say, 
 I remained at home, doing nothing — for which I have ever 
 since had a great taste — the idol of my mamma, who took part 
 in all my quarrels with father, and used regularly to rob the 
 weekly expenses in order to find me in pocket-money. Poor 
 soul ! many and many is the guinea I have had from her in that 
 way ; and so she enabled me to cut a very pretty figure. 
 
 Papa was for having me at this time articled to a merchant, 
 or put to some profession ; but mamma and I agreed that I was 
 born to be a gentleman and not a tradesman, and the army was 
 the only place forme. Everybody was a soldier in those times, 
 for the French war had just began, and the whole country was 
 swarming with militia regiments. " We'll get him a commission 
 in a marching regiment," said my father. " As we have no 
 money to purchase him up, he'll fight his way, I make no 
 doubt." And papa looked at me with a kind of air of contempt, 
 as much as to say he doubted whether I should'be very eager 
 for such a dangerous way of bettering myself. 
 
 I wish you could have heard mamma's screech when he 
 talked so coolly of my going out to fight ! " What ! send him 
 abroad, across the horrid, horrid sea — to be wretched and per- 
 haps drowned, and only to land for the purpose of fighting the 
 wicked Frenchmen, — to be wounded, and perhaps kick — kick — 
 killed ! Oh, Thomas, Thomas ! would you murder me and your 
 boy ? " There was a regular scene. However, it ended — as 
 it always did — in mother's getting the better, and it was settled 
 that I should go into the militia. And why not ? The uniform 
 is just as handsome, and the danger not half so great. I don't 
 think in the course of my whole military experience I ever 
 fought anything, except an old woman, who had the impudence 
 to hallo out, " Heads up, lobster ! " — Well, I joined the North 
 Bungays, and was fairly launched into the world. 
 
 I was not a handsome man, I know ; but there was some- 
 thing about me — that's very evident — for the girls always 
 \ laughed when they talked to me, and the men, though they 
 affected to call me a poor little creature, squint-eyes, knock- 
 knees, red-head, and so on, were evidently annoyed by my suc- 
 cess, for they hated me so confoundedly. Even at the present 
 time they go on, though I have given up gallivanting, as I call 
 it. But in the April of my existence, — that is, in anno Domini 
 1 79 1, or so — it was a different case ; and having nothing else 
 to do, and being bent upon bettering my condition, I did some 
 very pretty things in that way. But I was not hpt-headed and 
 impudent, like most young fellows. Don't fancy I looked for 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 747 
 
 beauty! Pish! — I wasn't such a fool. Nor for temper; I 
 don't care about a bad temper : I could break any woman's 
 heart in two years. What I wanted was to get on in the world. 
 Of course I didn't pref. r an ugly woman, or a shrew 5 and when 
 the choice offered, would certainly put up with a handsome, 
 good-humored girl, with plenty of money, as any honest man 
 would. 
 
 Now there were two tolerably rich girls in our parts : Miss 
 Magdalen Crutty, with twelve thousand pounds (and, to do her 
 justice, as plain a girl as ever I saw), and Miss Mary Waters, a 
 fine, tall, plump, smiling, peach-cheeked, golden-haired, white- 
 skinned lass, with only ten. Mary Waters lived with her uncle, 
 the Doctor, who had helped me into the world, and who was 
 trusted with this little orphan charge very soon after. My 
 mother, as you have heard, was so fond of Bates, and Bates so 
 fond of little Mary, that both, at first, were almost always in our 
 house ; and I used to call her my little wife as soon as I could 
 speak, and before she could walk almost. It was beautiful to 
 see us, the neighbors said. 
 
 Well, when her brother, the lieutenant of an India ship, 
 came to be captain, and actually gave Mary five thousand 
 pounds, when she was about ten years old, and promised her 
 five thousand more, there was a great talking, and bobbing, and 
 smiling between the Doctor and my parents, and Mary and I 
 were left together more than ever, and she was told to call me 
 her little husband. And she did ; and it was considered a 
 settled thing from that clay. She was really amazingly fond of 
 me. 
 
 Can any one call me mercenary after that ? Though Miss 
 Crutty had twelve thousand, and Mary only ten (five in hand, 
 and five in the bush), I stuck faithfully to Mary. As a matter 
 of course, Miss Crutty hated Miss Waters. The fact was, Mary 
 had all the country dangling after her, and not a soul would 
 come to Magdalen, for all her 12,000/. I used to be attentive 
 to her though (as it's always useful to be) ; and Mary would 
 sometimes laugh and sometimes cry at my flirting with Mag- 
 dalen. This I thought proper very quickly to check. " Mary, ,x 
 said I, " you know that my love for you is disinterested, — for 
 I am faithful to you, though Miss Crutty is richer than you. 
 Don't fly into a rage, then, because I pay her attentions, 
 when you know that my heart and my promise are engaged to 
 you." 
 
 " The fact is, to tell a little bit of a secret, there is nothing 
 like the having two strings to your bow, " Who knows ? " 
 
74 8 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 thought I. " Mary may die ; and then where are my 10,000/.? *f 
 So I used to be very kind indeed to Miss Crutty ; and well it 
 was that I was so : for when I was twenty and Mary eighteen, 
 I'm blest if news did not arrive that Captain Waters, who was 
 coming home to England with all his money in rupees, had been 
 taken — ship, rupees, self and all — by a French privateer ; and 
 Mary, instead of 10,000/., had only 5,000/., making a difference 
 of no less than 350/. per annum betwixt her and Miss Crutty. 
 
 I had just joined my regiment (the famous North Bungay 
 Fencibles, Colonel Craw commanding) when this news reached 
 me ; and you may fancy how a young man, in an expensive 
 regiment and mess, having uniforms and what not to pay for, 
 and a figure to cut in the world, felt at hearing such news ! 
 u My dearest Robert," wrote Miss Waters, " will deplore my 
 dear brother's loss : but not, I am sure, the money which that 
 kind and generous soul had promised me. I have still five 
 thousand pounds, and with this and your own little fortune (I 
 had 1,000/. in the Five per Cents. !) we shall be as happy and 
 contented as possible." 
 
 Happy and contented indeed ! Didn't I know how my 
 father got on with his 300/. a year, and how it was all he could 
 do out of it to add a hundred a year to my narrow income, and 
 live himself ! My mind was made up. I instantly mounted 
 the coach and flew to our village, — to Mr. Crutty's, of course. 
 It was next door to Doctor Bates's ; but I had no business 
 there. 
 
 I found Magdalen in the garden. " Heavens, Mr. Stubbs ! " 
 said she, as in my new uniform I appeared before her, " I 
 really did never — such a handsome officer — expect to see you." 
 And she made as if she would blush, and began to tremble 
 violently. I led her to a garden-seat. I seized her hand — it 
 was not withdrawn. I pressed it ; — I thought the pressure was 
 returned. I flung myself on my knees, and then I poured into 
 her ear a little speech which I had made on the top of the 
 coach. " Divine Miss Crutty," said I ; "idol of my soul ! It 
 was but to catch- one glimpse of you that I passed through this 
 garden. I never intended to breathe the secret passion " (oh, 
 no ; of course not) " which was wearing my life away. You 
 know my unfortunate pre-engagement — it is broken, and for- 
 ever ! I am free ; — free, but to be your slave, — your humblest, 
 fondest, truest slave ! " And so on. * # # 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Stubbs," said she, as I imprinted a kiss upon hex 
 cheek, " I can't refuse you ; but I fear you are a sad naughty 
 man. * * # " 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS: 
 
 749 
 
 Absorbed in the delicious reverie which was caused by the 
 dear creature's confusion, we were both silent for a while, and 
 should have remained so for hours perhaps, so lost were we in 
 happiness, had I not been suddenly roused by a voice exclaim- 
 ing from behind us — 
 
 " Don't cry, Mary ! He is a swindling, sneaking scoundrel, 
 and you are well rid of him / " 
 
 I turned round. O heaven, there stood Mary, weeping on 
 Doctor Bates's arm, while that miserable apothecary was looking 
 at me with the utmost scorn. The gardener, who had let me 
 in, had told them of my arrival, and now stood grinning behind 
 them. " Imperence ! " was my Magdalen's only exclamation, 
 as she flounced by with the utmost self-possession, while I, 
 glancing daggers at the spies, followed her. We retired to the 
 parlor, where she repeated to me the strongest assurances of 
 her love. 
 
 I thought I was a made man. Alas ! I was only an april 
 fool ! 
 
 MAY.— RESTORATION DAY. 
 
 As the month of May is considered, by poets and other 
 philosophers, to be devoted by Nature to the great purpose of 
 love-making, I may as well take advantage of that season and 
 acquaint you with the result of my amours. 
 
 Young, gay, fascinating, and an ensign — I had completely 
 won the heart of my Magdalen ; and as for Miss Waters and 
 her nasty uncle the Doctor, there was a complete split between 
 us, as you may fancy ; Miss pretending, forsooth, that she was 
 glad I had broken off the match, though she would have given 
 her eyes, the little minx, to have had it on again. But this 
 was out of the question. My father, who had all sorts of queer 
 notions, said I had acted like a rascal in the business ; my 
 mother took my part, in course, and declared I acted rightly, 
 as I always did : and I got leave of absence from the regiment 
 in order to press my beloved Magdalen to marry me out of 
 hand — knowing, from reading and experience, the extraordi- 
 nary mutability of human affairs. 
 
 Besides, as the dear girl was seventeen years older than 
 myself, and as bad in health as she was in temper, how was I 
 to know that the grim king of terrors might not carry her off 
 before she became mine ? With the tenderest warmth, then, 
 
75° 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 and most delicate ardor, I continued to press my suit. The 
 happy day was fixed — the ever memorable ioth of May, 1792. 
 The wedding-clothes were ordered ; and, to make things secure, 
 I penned a little paragraph for the county paper to this effect : 
 — " Marriage in High Life. We understand that Ensign 
 Stubbs, of the North Bungay Fencibles, and son of Thomas 
 Stubbs, of Sloffemsquiggle, Esquire, is about to lead to the 
 hymneneal altar the lovely and accomplished daughter of Solo- 
 mon Crutty, Esquire, of the same place. A fortune of twenty 
 thousand pounds is, we hear, the lady's portion. ' None but 
 the brave deserve the fair/ " 
 
 ^ *^ 
 
 " Have you informed your relatives, my beloved ? " said I 
 to Magdalen one day after sending the above notice ; " will 
 any of them attend at your marriage ? " 
 
 "Uncle Sam will, I dare say," said Miss Crutty, "dear 
 mamma's brother." 
 
 "And who was your dear mamma?" said I: for Miss 
 Crutty's respected parent had been long since dead, and I 
 never heard her name mentioned in the family. 
 
 Magdalen blushed, and cast down her eyes to the ground. 
 " Mamma was a foreigner," at last she said. 
 
 " And of what country ? " 
 
 " A German. Papa married her when she was very young : 
 — she was not of a very good family," said Miss Crutty, hesi- 
 tating. 
 
 " And what care I for family, my love ! " said I, tenderly 
 kissing the knuckles of the hand which I held. " She must 
 have been an angel who gave birth to you." 
 
 " She was a shoemaker's daughter." 
 
 "A German shoemaker / Hang 'em ! " thought I, " I have 
 had enough of them ; " and so broke up this conversation, 
 
 which did not somehow please me. 
 
 # # # * # 
 
 Well, the day was drawing near : the clothes were ordered ; 
 the banns were read. My dear mamma had built a cake about 
 the size of a washing-tub ; and I was only waiting for a week 
 to pass to put me in possession of twelve thousand pounds in 
 the Five per Cents., as they were in those days, heaven bless 
 J em ! Little did I know the storm that was brewing, and the 
 disappointment which was to fall upon a young man who really 
 did his best to get a fortune. 
 
 # * * * # 
 
 " Oh, Robert ! " said my Magdalen to me, two days before 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 the match was to come off, " I have such a kind letter from 
 uncle Sam in London. I wrote to him as you wished. He 
 says that he is coming down to-morrow ; that he has heard of 
 you often, and knows your character very well ; and that he 
 has got a very handsome present for us ! What can it be, I 
 wonder ? " 
 
 " Is he rich, my soul's adored ? " says I. 
 " He is a bachelor, with a fine trade, and nobody to leave 
 his money to." 
 
 " His present can't be less than a thousand pounds ? " says I. 
 " Or perhaps, a silver tea-set, and some corner-dishes," says 
 she. 
 
 But we could not agree to this : it was too little — too mean 
 for a man of her uncle's wealth ; and we both determined it 
 must be the thousand pounds. 
 
 " Dear good uncle ! he's to be here by the coach," says 
 Magdalen. " Let us ask a little party to meet him." And so 
 we did, and so they came : my father ^nd mother, old Crutty 
 in his best wig, and the parson who was to marry us the next 
 day. The coach was to come in at six. And there w r as the 
 tea-table, and there was the punch-bowl, and everybody ready 
 and smiling to receive our dear uncle from London. 
 
 Six o'clock came, and the coach, and the man from the 
 " Green Dragon " with a portmanteau, and a fat old gentleman 
 walking behind, of whom I just caught a glimpse — a venerable 
 old gentleman : I thought I'd seen him before. 
 
 ■¥f ^tf ^ ^ 4^ 
 
 Then there was a ring at the bell ; then a scuffling and 
 bumping in the passage : then old Crutty rushed out, and a 
 great laughing and talking, and " How are you ? " and so on, 
 was heard at the door ; and then the parlor door was flung 
 open, and Crutty cried out with a loud voice — 
 
 " Good people all ! my brother-in-law, Mr. Stiffelkind ! " 
 
 Mr. Stiffelkind / — I trembled as I heard the name ! 
 
 Miss Crutty kissed him ; mamma made him a curtsey, and 
 papa made him a bow ; and Dr. Snorter, the parson, seized his 
 hand and shook it most warmly : then came my turn ! 
 
 " Vat ! " says he. " It is my dear goot yong frend from 
 Doctor Schvis'hentail's ! is dis de yong gentleman's honorable 
 moder " (mamma smiled and made a curtsey), " and dis his 
 fader ? Sare and madam, you should be broud of soch a sonn. 
 And you my niece, if you have him for a husband you vill be 
 locky, dat is all. Vat dink you, broder Croty, and Madame 
 Stobbs, I 'ave made your sonn's boots ! Ha — ha ! " 
 
7S 2 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 My mamma laughed, and said, " I did not know it, but I 
 am sure, sir, he has as pretty a leg for a boot as any in the 
 whole county." 
 
 Old StifTelkind roared louder. " A very nice leg, ma'am, 
 and a very sheap boot too. Vat ! did you not know I make 
 his boots ? Perhaps you did not know something else too — 
 p'raps you did not know " (and here the monster clapped his 
 hand on the table and made the punch-ladle tremble in the 
 bowl) — " p'raps you did not know as dat yong man, dat 
 Stobbs, dat sneaking, baltry, squinting fellow, is as vicked as 
 he is ogly. He bot a pair of boots from me and never paid for 
 dem. Dat is noting, nobody never pays ; but he bought a pair 
 of boots, and called himself Lord Cornvallis. And I was fool 
 enough to believe him vonce. But look you, niece Magdalen, 
 I 'ave got five tousand pounds : if you marry him I vill not give 
 you a benny. But look you what I will gif you : I bromised 
 you a bresent, and I will give you dese ! " 
 
 And the old mobster produced those very boots which 
 
 Swishtail had made him take back., 
 
 # # # * # # # 
 
 I didrtt marry Miss Crutty : I am not sorry for it though. 
 She was a nasty, ugly, ill-tempered wretch, and I've always said 
 so ever since. 
 
 And all this rose from these infernal boots, and that unlucky 
 paragraph in the county paper — I'll tell you how. 
 
 In the first place, it was taken up as a quiz by one of the 
 wicked, profligate, unprincipled organs of the London press, 
 who chose to be very facetious about the " Marriage in High 
 Life," and made all sorts of jokes about me and my dear Miss 
 Crutty. 
 
 Secondly, it was read in this London paper by my mortal 
 enemy, Bunting, who had been introduced to old StifTelkind's 
 acquaintance by my adventure with him, and had his shoes 
 made regularly by that foreign upstart. 
 
 Thirdly, he happened to want a pair of shoes mended at this 
 particular period, and as he was measured by the disgusting 
 old High-Dutch cobbler, he told him his old friend Stubbs was 
 going to be married. 
 
 u And to whom ? " said old StifTelkind. " To a voman wit 
 geld, I vill take my oath." 
 
 " Yes," says Bunting, " a country girl — a Miss Magdalen 
 Carotty or Crotty, at a place called SlofTemsquiggle." 
 
 Schloffemschwiegel /" bursts out the dreadful bootmaker. 
 " Mein Gott, mein Gott ! das geht nicht ! I tell you, sare, it is 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 753 
 
 no go. Miss Crotty is my niece. I vill go down myself. I 
 vill never let her marry dat goot-for-nothing schwindler and 
 tief." Such was the language that the scoundrel ventured to 
 use regarding me ! 
 
 JUNE.— MARRO.WBONES AND CLEAVERS. 
 
 . Was there ever such confounded ill-luck ? My whole life 
 has been a tissue of ill-luck : although I have labored perhaps 
 harder than any man to make a fortune, something always 
 tumbled it down. In love and in war I was not like others. 
 In my marriages, I had an eye to the main chance ; and you 
 see how some unlucky blow would come and throw them over. 
 In the army I was just as prudent, and just as unfortunate. 
 What with judicious betting, and horse-swopping, good-luck at 
 billiards, and economy, I do believe I put by my pay every 
 year, — and that is what few can say who have but an allowance 
 of a hundred a year. 
 
 I'll tell you how it was. I used to be very kind to the 
 young men ; I chose their horses for them, and their wine : and 
 showed them how to play billiards, or ecarte, of long mornings, 
 when there was nothing better to do. I didn't cheat : I'd 
 rather die than cheat; — but if fellows will play, I wasn't the 
 man to say no — why should I ? There was one young chap in 
 our regiment of whom I really think I cleared 300/. a year. 
 
 His name was Dobble. He was a tailor's son, and wanted 
 to be a gentleman. A poor weak young creature ; easy to be 
 made tipsy ; easy to be cheated ; and easy to be frightened. 
 It was a blessing for him that I found him ; for if anybody 
 else had, they would have plucked him of every shilling. 
 
 Ensign Dobble and I were sworn friends. I rode his horses 
 for him, and chose his champagne, and did everything, in fact, 
 that a superior mind does for an inferior, — when the inferior 
 has got the money. We were inseparables, — hunting every- 
 where in couples. We even managed to fall in love with two 
 sisters, as young soldiers will do, you know ; for the dogs fall 
 in love, with every change of quarters. 
 
 Well, once, in the year 1793* (it was just when the French 
 had chopped poor Louis's head off), Dobble and I, gay young 
 chaps as ever wore sword by side, had cast our eyes upon two 
 young ladies by the name of Brisket, daughters of a butcher in 
 
754 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 the town where we were quartered. The dear girls fell in love 
 with us, of course. And many a pleasant walk in the country, 
 many a treat to a tea-garden, many a smart ribbon and brooch 
 used Dobble and I (for his father allowed him 600/., and our 
 purses were in common) present to these young ladies. On£ 
 day, fancy our pleasure at receiving a note couched thus : — 
 
 "Deer Capting Stubbs and Dobble — Miss Briskets pre- 
 sents their compliments, and as it is.probble that our papa will 
 be till twelve at the corprayshun dinner, we request the pleasure 
 of their company to tea." 
 
 Didn't we go ! Punctually at six we were in the little back 
 parlor; we quaffed more Bohea, and made more love, than 
 half a dozen ordinary men could. At nine, a little punch-bowl 
 succeeded to the little teapot ; and, bless the girls ! a nice 
 fresh steak was frizzling on the gridiron for our supper. 
 Butchers were butchers then, and their parlor was their kitchen 
 too; at least old Brisket's was — one door leading into the 
 shop, and one into the yard, on the other side of which was 
 the slaughter-house. 
 
 Fancy, then, our horror when, just at this critical time, we 
 heard the shop door open, a heavy staggering step on the flags, 
 and a loud husky voice from the shop, shouting, " Hallo, 
 Susan ; hallo, Betsy ! show a light ! " Dobble turned as white 
 as a sheet ; the two girls each as red as a lobster ; I alone pre- 
 served my presence of mind. "The backdoor," says I. — ■ 
 "The dog's in the court," say they. " He's not so bad as the 
 man," said I. " Stop ! " cries Susan, flinging open the door, 
 and rushing to the fire. " Take this and perhaps it will quiet 
 him." 
 
 What do you think u this " was ? I'm blest if it was not 
 the steak ? 
 
 She pushed us out, patted and hushed the dog, and was in 
 again in a minute. The moon was shining on the court, and 
 on the slaughter-house, where there hung the white ghastly- 
 looking carcases of a couple of sheep ; a great gutter ran down 
 the court — a gutter of blood / The dog was devouring his beef- 
 steak (our beefsteak) in silence ; and we could see through the 
 little window the girls bustling about to pack up the supper- 
 things, and presently the shop door being opened, old Brisket 
 entering, staggering, angry, and drunk. What's more, we 
 could see, perched on a high stool, and nodding politely, as if 
 ; to salute old Brisket, the feather of Dobble' s cocked hat ! When 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 755 
 
 Dobble saw it, he turned white, and deadly sick ; and the poor 
 fellow, in an agony of fright, sunk shivering down upon one of 
 the butcher's cutting-blocks, which was in the yard. 
 
 We saw old Brisket look steadily (as steadily as he could) 
 at the confounded, impudent, pert, waggling feather ; and 
 then an idea began to dawn upon his mind, that there was a 
 head to the hat ; and then he slowly rose up — he was a man of 
 six feet, and fifteen stone — he rose up, put on his apron and 
 sleeves, and took down his cleaver. 
 
 " Betsy/' says he, " open the yard door." But the poor 
 girls screamed, and flung on their knees, and begged, and 
 wept, and did their very best to prevent him. " Open the 
 Yard Door ! " says he, with a thundering loud voice ; and 
 the great bull-dog, hearing it, started up and uttered a yell 
 which sent me flying to the other end of the court. — Dobble 
 couldn't move ; he was sitting on the block, blubbering like a 
 baby. 
 
 The door opened, and out Mr. Brisket came. 
 
 " To him jfowler!" says he. " Keep him jfowler! " — and 
 the horrid dog flew at me, and I flew back into the corner, and 
 drew my sword, determining to sell my life dearly. 
 
 " That's it," says Brisket. " Keep him there, — good dog, 
 — good dog ! And now, sir," says he, turning round to Dobble, 
 " is this your hat ? " , 
 
 "Yes," says Dobble, fit to choke with fright. W 
 
 "Well, then," says Brisket, "it's my — (hie) — my painful 
 duty to — (hie) — to tell you, that as I've got your hat, I must 
 have your head ; it's painful, but it must be done. You'd better 
 — (hie — settle yourself com — comfumarably against that — (hie) 
 — that block, and I'll chop it of! before you can say Jack — 
 (hie) — no, I mean Jack Robinson." 
 
 Dobble went down on his knees and shrieked out, I'm an 
 only son, Mr. Brisket ! I'll marry her, sir ; I will, upon my 
 honor, sir. — Consider my mother, sir ; consider my mother." 
 
 " That's it, sir," says Brisket — "that's a good — (hie) — a good 
 boy; — just put your head down quietly — and I'll have it off — 
 yes, off — as if you were Louis the Six — the Sixtix — the Sik- 
 tickleteenth. — I'll chop the other chap afterwards." 
 
 When I heard this, I made a sudden bound back, and gave 
 such a cry as any man might who was in such a way. The 
 ferocious Jowler, thinking I was going to- escape, flew at my 
 throat; screaming furious, I flung out my arms in a kind of 
 desperation, — and, to my wonder, down fell the dog, dead, and 
 run through the body ! 
 
75^ 
 
 STOKIES. 
 
 # * # • # * # # 
 
 At this moment a posse of people rushed in upon old 
 Brisket, — one of his daughters had had the sense to summon 
 them, — and Dobble's head was saved. And when they saw 
 the dog lying dead at my feet, my ghastly look, my bloody 
 sword, they gave me no small credit for my bravery. "A 
 terrible fellow that Stubbs," said they ; and so the mess said, 
 the next day. 
 
 I didn't tell them that the dog had committed suicide — why 
 should I ? And I didn't say a word about Dobble's cowardice. 
 I said he was a brave fellow, and fought like a tiger ; and this 
 prevented him from telling tales. I had the dogskin made 
 into a pair of pistol-holsters, and looked so fierce, and got such 
 a name for courage in our regiment, that when we had to meet 
 the regulars, Bob Stubbs was always the man put forward to 
 support the honor of the corps. The women, you know, adore 
 courage ; and such was my reputation at this time, that I might 
 have had my pick out of half a dozen, with three, four, or five 
 thousand pounds apiece, who were dying for love, of me and 
 my red coat. But I wasn't such a fool. I had been twice on 
 the point of marriage, and twice disappointed ; and I vowed 
 by all the Saints to have a wife, and a rich one. Depend upon 
 this, as an infallible maxim to guide you through life : Ifs as 
 easy to get a rich wife as a poor one ; — the same bait that will 
 hook a fly will hook a salmon. 
 
 JULY.— SUMMARY PROCEEDINGS. 
 
 Dobble^s reputation for courage was not increased by the 
 butcher's-dog adventure ; but mine stood very high : little 
 Stubbs was voted the boldest chap of all the bold North Bun- 
 gays. And though I must confess, what was proved by sub- 
 sequent circumstances, that nature has not endowed me with a 
 large, or even, I may say, an average share of bravery, yet a 
 man is very willing to flatter himself to the contrary ; and, after 
 a little time, I got to believe that my killing the dog was an 
 action of undaunted courage, and that I was as gallant as any 
 of the one hundred thousand heroes of our army. I always 
 had a military taste — it's only the brutal part of the^ profession, 
 the horrid fighting and blood, that I don't like. 
 
 I suppose the regiment was not very brave itself — being 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 757 
 
 only militia ; but certain it was, that Stubbs was considered a 
 most terrible fellow, and I swore so much, and looked so fierce, 
 that you would have fancied I had made half a hundred cam- 
 paigns. I was second in several duels : the umpire in all dis- 
 putes ; and such a crack-shot myself, that fellows were shy of 
 insulting me. As forDobble, I took him under my protection ; 
 and he became so attached to me, that we ate, drank, and rode 
 together every day ; his father didn't care for inoney, so long 
 as his son was in good company — and what so good as that of 
 the celebrated Stubbs ? Heigho ! I was good company in those 
 days, and a brave fellow too, as I should have remained, but 
 for — what I shall tell the public immediately. 
 
 It happened, in the fatal year ninety-six, that the brave 
 North Bungays w r ere quartered at Portsmouth, a maritime place, 
 which I need not describe, and which I wish I had never seen. 
 I might have been a General now, or, at least, a rich man. 
 
 The red-coats carried everything before them in those days ; 
 and I, such a crack character as I was in my regiment, was very 
 well received by the townspeople : many dinners I had ; many 
 tea-parties ; many lovely young ladies did I- lead down the 
 pleasant country-dances. 
 
 Well, although I had had the two former rebuffs in love 
 which I have described, my heart was still young ; and the fact 
 was, knowing that a girl with a fortune was. my only chance, I 
 made love here as furiously as ever. I sha'n't describe the 
 lovely creatures on whom I fixed, whilst at Portsmouth. I tried 
 more than — several — and it is a singular fact, which I never 
 have been able to account for, that, successful as I was with 
 ladies of maturer age, by the young ones I was refused regular. 
 
 But "faint heart never won fair lady ; " and so I went on, 
 and on, until I had got a Miss Clopper, a tolerably rich navy- 
 contractor's daughter, into such a way, that I really don't think 
 she could have refused me. Her brother, Captain Clopper, was 
 in a line regiment, and helped me as much as ever he could : he 
 swore I was such a brave fellow. 
 
 As I had received a number of attentions from Clopper, I 
 determined to invite him to dinner ; which I could do without 
 any sacrifice of my principle upon this point : for the fact is, 
 Dobble lived at an inn, and as he sent all his bills to his father, 
 I made no scruple to use his table. We dined in the coffee- 
 room, Dobble bringing his friend ; and so we made a party 
 carry, as the French say. Some naval officers were occupied 
 in a similar way at a table next to ours. 
 
 Well — I didn't spare the bottle, either for myself or for my 
 
STORIES. 
 
 friends ; and we grew very talkative, and very affectionate as 
 the drinking went on. Each man told stories of his gallantry 
 in the field, or amongst the ladies, as officers will, after dinner. 
 Clopper confided to the company his wish that I should marry 
 his sister, and vowed that he thought me the best fellow in 
 Christendom. 
 
 Ensign Dobble assented to this. " But let Miss Clopper 
 beware," says* he, "for Stubbs is a sad fellow : he has had I 
 don't know how many liaisons already ; and he has been engaged 
 to I don't know how many women." 
 
 " Indeed ! " says Clopper. " Come, Stubbs, tell us your 
 adventures." 
 
 a Psha ! " said I, modestly, " there is nothing, indeed, to tell. 
 I have been in love, my dear boy — who has not? — and I have 
 been jilted — who has not ? " 
 
 Clopper swore that he would blow his sister's brains out if 
 ever she served me so. 
 
 "Tell him about Miss Crutty," said Dobble. "He! he! 
 Stubbs served that woman out, anyhow ; she didn't jilt him, I'll 
 be sworn." ■ 
 
 " Really, Dobble, you are too bad, and should not mention 
 names. The fact is, the girl was desperately in love with me, 
 and had money — sixty thousand pounds, upon my reputation. 
 Well, everything was arranged, when who should come down 
 from London but a relation." 
 
 " Well, and did he prevent the match ? " 
 
 " Prevent it — yes, sir, I believe you he did ; though not in 
 the sense that you mean. He would have given his eyes — ay, 
 and ten thousand pounds more — if I would have accepted the 
 girl, but I would not." 
 
 " Why, in the name of goodness ? " 
 
 " Sir, her uncle was a shoemaker. I never would debase 
 myself by marrying into such a family." 
 
 "Of course not," said Dobble; "he couldn't, you know. 
 Well, now — tell him about the other girl, Mary Waters, you 
 
 know." 
 
 " Hush, Dobble, hush ! don't you see one of those naval 
 officers has turned round and heard you ? My dear Clopper, it 
 was a mere childish bagatelle." 
 
 '•Well, but let's have it," said Clopper — "let's have it. I 
 won't tell my sister, you know." And he put his hand to his 
 nose and looked monstrous wise. 
 
 " Nothing of that sort, Clopper — no, no — 'pon honor — lit- 
 tle Bob Stubbs is no libertine; and the story is very simple 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 759 
 
 You see that my father has a small place, merely a few hundred 
 acres, at Sloffemsquiggle. Isn't it a funny name ? Hang it, 
 there's the naval gentleman staring again " — (I looked terribly 
 fierce as I returned this officer's stare, and continued in a loud 
 careless voice). Well, at this Sloffemsquiggle there lived a 
 girl, a Miss Waters, the niece of some blackguard apothecary 
 in the neighborhood ; but my mother took a fancy to the girl, 
 and had her up to the park and petted her. We were both 
 young — and — and — the girl fell in love with me, that's the fact. 
 I was obliged to repel some rather warm advances that she 
 made me ; and here, upon my honor as a gentleman, you have 
 all the story about which that silly Dobble makes such a 
 noise." 
 
 Just as I finished this sentence, I found myself suddenly 
 taken by the nose, and a voice shouting out, — 
 
 " Mr. Stubbs, you are a Liar and a Scoundrel! Take 
 this, sir, — and this, for daring to meddle with the name of an 
 innocent lady." 
 
 I turned round as well as I could — for the ruffian had pulled 
 me out of my chair — and beheld a great marine monster, six feet 
 high, who was occupied in beating and kicking me, in the most 
 ungentlemanly manner, on my cheeks, my ribs, and between the 
 tails of my coat. " He is a liar, gentlemen, and a scoundrel ! 
 The bootmaker had detected him in swindling, and so his 
 niece refused him. Miss Waters was engaged to him from 
 childhood, and he deserted her for the bootmaker's niece, 
 who was richer." — And then sticking a card between my stock 
 and my coat-collar, in what is called the scruff of my neck, the 
 disgusting* brute gave me another blow behind my back, and 
 left the coffee-room with his friends. 
 
 Dobble raised me up ; and taking the card from my neck, 
 read, Captain Waters. Clopper poured me out a glass of 
 water, and said in my ear, " If this is true, you are an infernal 
 scoundrel, Stubbs ; and must fight me, after Captain Waters ; " 
 and he flounced out of the room. 
 
 I had but one course to pursue. I sent the Captain a short 
 and contemptuous note, saying that he was beneath my anger. 
 As for Clopper, I did not condescend to notice his remark ; 
 but in order to get rid of the troublesome society of these low 
 blackguards, I determined to gratify an inclination I had long 
 entertained, and make a little tour. I applied for leave of 
 absence, and set off that very night. I can fancy the disap- 
 pointment of the brutal Waters, on coming, as he did, the next 
 morning to my quarters aad finding me gone. Ha ! ha ! 
 
76o 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 After this adventure I became sick of a military life — at'\ 
 least the life of my own regiment, where the officers, such^ 
 was their unaccountable meanness and prejudice against me, 
 absolutely refused to see me at mesj. Colonel Craw sent me 
 a letter to this effect, which I treated as it deserved. — I 
 never once alluded to it in any way, and have since never 
 spoken a single word to any man in the North Eungays. 
 
 AUGUST.— DOGS HAVE THEIR DAYS. 
 
 See, now, what life is ! I have had ill-luck on ill-luck from 
 that day to this. I have sunk in the world, and, instead of 
 riding my horse and drinking my wine, as a real gentleman 
 should, have hardly enough how to buy a pint of ale ; ay, and 
 am very glad when anybody will treat me to one. Why, why 
 was I born to undergo such unmerited misfortunes ? 
 
 You must know that very soon after my adventure with 
 Miss Crutty, and that cowardly ruffian, Captain Waters (he 
 sailed the day after his insult to me, or I should most certainly 
 have blown his brains out ; now he is living in England, and is my 
 relation ; but, of course, I cut the fellow) — very soon after these 
 painful events another happened,- which ended, too, in a sad 
 disappointment. My dear papa died, and instead of leaving 
 five thousand pounds, as I expected at the very least, left only 
 his estate, which was worth but two. The land and house were 
 left to me ; to mamma and my sisters he left, to be sure, a sum 
 of two thousand pounds in the hands of that eminent firm 
 Messrs. Pump, Alclgate and Co., which failed within six months 
 after his demise, and paid in five years about one shilling and 
 ninepence in the pound ; which really was all my dear mother 
 and sisters had to live upon. 
 
 The poor creatures were quite unused to money matters ; 
 and would you believe it ? when the news came of Pump and 
 Aldgate's failure, mamma only smiled, and threw her eyes up 
 to heaven, and said, " Blessed be God, that we have still where- 
 withal to live. There are tens of thousands in this world, dear 
 children, who would count our poverty riches." And with this 
 she kissed my two sisters, who began to blubber, as girls 
 always will do, and threw their arms round her neck, and then 
 round my neck, until I was half stifled with their embraces, 
 and slobbered all over with their tears. 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 761 
 
 "Dearest mamma," said I, "I am very glad to see the 
 noble manner in which you bear your loss ; and more still to 
 know that you are so rich as to be able to put up with it." 
 The fact was, I really thought the old lady had got a private 
 hoard of her own, as many of them have — a thousand pounds 
 or so in a stocking. Had she put by thirty pounds a year, as 
 well she might, for the thirty years of her marriage, there 
 would have been nine hundred pounds clear, and no mistake. 
 But still I was angry to think that any such paltry conceal- 
 ment had been practised — concealment too of my money ; so 
 I turned on her pretty sharply, and continued my speech. 
 "You say, ma'am, that you are rich, and that Pump and Aid- 
 gate's failure has no effect upon you. I am very happy to 
 hear you say so, Ma'am — very happy that you are rich ; and I 
 should like to know where your property, my father's property, 
 for you had none of your own, — I should like to know where 
 this money lies — where you have concealed it, Ma'am ; and per- 
 mit me to say, that when I agreed to board you and my two 
 sisters for eighty pounds a year, I did not know that you had 
 other resources than those mentioned in blessed father's will." 
 
 This I said to her because I hated the meanness of conceal- 
 ment, not because I lost by the bargain of boarding them : for 
 the three poor things did not eat much more than sparrows ; 
 and I've often since calculated that I had a clear twenty 
 pounds a year profit out of them. 
 
 Mamma and the girls looked quite astonished when I made 
 the speech. " What does he mean ?" said Lucy to Eliza. 
 
 Mamma repeated the question. " My beloved Robert, 
 what concealment are you talking of ? " 
 
 " I am talking of concealed property, Ma'am," says I 
 sternly. 
 
 " And do you — what — can you — do you really suppose that 
 I have concealed — any of that blessed sa-a-a-aint's prop-op-op- 
 operty ? " screams out mamma. " Robert," says she — " Bob, 
 my own darling boy — my fondest, best beloved, now he is gone " 
 (meaning my late governor — more tears) — "you don't, you can- 
 not fancy that your own mother, who bore you, and nursed 
 you,and wept for you, and would give her all to save you from 
 a moment's harm — you don't suppose that she would che-e-e- 
 eat you ! " And here she gave a louder screech than ever, and 
 flung back on the sofa ; and one of my sisters went and 
 tumbled into her arms, and t'other went round, and the kiss- 
 ing an slobbering scene went on again, only I was left out, 
 thank goodness. I hate such sentimentality. 
 
762 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 " Che-e-e-eat trie" says I, mocking her. " What do you 
 mean, then, by saying you're so rich? Say, have you got 
 money, or have you not ? " (And I rapped out a good number 
 of oaths, too, which I don't put in here ; but I was in a dread- 
 ful fury, that's the fact.) 
 
 " So help me heaven," says mamma, in answer, going down 
 on her knees and smacking her two hands, " I have but a 
 Queen Anne's guinea in the whole of this wicked world." 
 
 " Then what, Madam, induces you to tell these absurd 
 stories to me, and to talk about your riches, when you know 
 that you and your daughters are beggars, Ma'am — beggars f " 
 
 " My dearest boy, have we not got the house, and the furni- 
 ture, and a hundred a year still : and have you not great talents, 
 which will make all our fortunes ? " says Mrs. Stubbs, getting 
 up off her knees, and making believe to smile as she clawed 
 hold of my hand and kissed it. 
 
 This was too cool. " You have got a hundred a year, 
 Ma'am," says I — "you have got a house ? Upon my soul and 
 honor this is the first I ever heard of it ; •and I'll tell you what, 
 Ma'am," says I (and it cut her pretty sharply too) : " As you've 
 got it, you'd better go and live in it. I've got quite enough to 
 do with my own house, and every penny of my own income." 
 
 Upon this speech the old lady said nothing, but she gave a 
 
 screech loud enough to be heard from here to York, and down 
 
 she fell — kicking and struggling in a regular fit. 
 
 # # # # * 
 
 I did not see Mrs. Stubbs for some days after this, and the 
 girls used to come down to meals, and never speak ; going up 
 again and stopping with their mother. At last, one day, both 
 of them came in very solemn to my study, and Eliza, the 
 eldest, said, " Robert, mamma has paid you our board up to 
 Michaelmas." 
 
 " She has," says I ; for I always took precious good care 
 to have it in advance. 
 
 " She says, Robert, that on Michaelmas day — we'll — we'll 
 go away, Robert." 
 
 " Oh, she's going to her own house, is she, Lizzy ? Very 
 
 good. She'll want the furniture, I suppose, and that she may 
 
 have too, for I'm going to sell the place myself." And so that 
 
 matter was settled. 
 
 # # # m * 
 
 On Michaelmas day — and during these two months I hadn't, 
 I do believe, seen my mother twice (once, about two o'clock in 
 the morning, I woke and found her sobbing over my bed) — on 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 7^3 
 
 Michaelmas-day morning, Eliza comes to me and says, " Robert 
 they will come and fetch us at six this evening" Well, as this was 
 the last day, I went and got the best goose I could find (I 
 don't think I ever saw a primer, or ate more hearty myself), 
 and had it roasted at three, with a good pudding afterwards ; 
 and a glorious bowl of punch. " Here's a health to you, dear 
 girls," says I, " and you, Ma, and good luck to all three ; and 
 as you've not eaten a morsel, I hope you won't object to a glass 
 of punch. It's the old stuff, you know, Ma'am, that Waters 
 sent to my father fifteen years ago." 
 
 Six o'clock came, and with it came a fine barouche. As I 
 live, Captain Waters was on the box (it was his coach) ; that 
 old thief, Bates, jumped out, entered my house, and before I 
 could say Jack Robinson, whipped off mamma to the carriage : 
 the girls followed, just giving me a hasty shake of the hand ; 
 and as mamma was helped in, Mary Waters, who was sitting 
 inside, flung her arms round her, and the girls ; and the Doc- 
 tor, who acted footman, jumped on the box, and off they went ; 
 taking no more notice of me than if I'd been a nonentity. 
 
 Here's a picture of the whole business : — Mamma and 
 Miss Waters are sitting kissing each other in the carriage, 
 with the two girls in the back seat ; Waters is driving (a pre- 
 cious bad driver he is too) ; and I'm standing at the garden 
 door, and whistling. That old fool Mary Malowney is crying 
 behind the garden gate : she went off next day along with the 
 furniture ; and I to get into that precious scrape which I shall 
 mention next. 
 
 SEPTEMBER.— PLUCKING A GOOSE. 
 
 After my papa's death, as he left me no money, and only 
 a little land, I put my estate into an auctioneer's hands, and 
 determined to amuse my solitude with a trip to some of our 
 fashionable watering places. My house was now a desert to 
 me. I need not- say how the departure of my dear parent, and 
 her children, left me sad and lonely. 
 
 Well, I had a little ready money, and, for the estate, ex- 
 pected a couple of thousand pounds. I had a good military- 
 looking person : for though I had absolutely cut the old North 
 Bungays (indeed, after my affair with Waters, Colonel Craw 
 hinted to me, in the most friendly manner, that I had better 
 resign) — though I had left the army, I still retained the rank 
 
 49 
 
7 6 4 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 of Captain ; knowing the advantages attendant upon that title 
 in a watering-place tour. 
 
 Captain Stubbs became a great dandy at Cheltenham, 
 Harrogate, Bath, Leamington, and other places. I was a good 
 whist and billiard player ; so much so, that in many of these 
 towns, the people used to refuse, at last, to play with me, 
 knowing how far I was their superior. Fancy my surprise, 
 about five years after the Portsmouth affair, when strolling one 
 day up the High Street, in Leamington, my eyes lighted upon 
 a young man, whom I remembered in a certain butcher's yard, 
 and elsewhere — no other, in fact, than Dobble. He, too, was 
 dressed c?i tnilitaire, with a frogged coat and spurs ; and was 
 walking with a showy-looking, Jewish-faced, black-haired lady, 
 glittering with chains and rings, with a green bonnet and a 
 bird of Paradise — a lilac shawl, a yellow gown, pink silk stock- 
 ings, and light-blue shoes. Three children, and a handsome 
 footman, were walking behind her, and the party, not seeing 
 me, entered the " Royal Hotel " together. 
 
 I was known myself at the "Royal," and calling one of the 
 waiters, learned the names of the lady and gentleman. He 
 was Captain Dobble, the son of the rich army-clothier, Dobble 
 (Dobble, Hobble and Co. of Pall Mall) ; — the lady was a Mrs. 
 Manasseh, widow of an American Jew, living quietly at Leam- 
 ington with her children, but possessed of an immense property. 
 There's no use to give one's self out to be an absolute pauper ; 
 so the fact is, that I myself went everywhere with the character 
 of a man of very large means. My father had died, leaving 
 me immense sums of money, and landed*estates. Ah ! I was 
 the gentleman then, the real gentleman, and everybody was 
 too happy to have me at table. 
 
 Well, I came the next day and left a card for Dobble, with a 
 note. He neither returned my visit, nor answered my note. 
 The day after, however, I met him with the widow, as before ; 
 and going up to him, very kindly seized him by the hand, and 
 swore I was — as really was the case— charmed to see him. 
 Dobble hung back, to my surprise, and I do believe the crea- 
 ture would have cut me, if he dared ; but I gave him a frown, 
 and said — 
 
 " What, Dobble my boy, don't you recollect old Stubbs, and 
 our adventure with the butcher's daughters — ha ? " 
 
 Dobble gave a sickly kind of grin, and said, " Oh ! ah ! yes ! 
 It is- — yes ! it is, I believe, Captain Stubbs." 
 
 " An old comrade, Madam, of Captain Dobble's, and one 
 who has heard so much, and seen so much of your ladyship, that 
 he must take the liberty of begging his friend to introduce him." 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 Dobble was obliged to take the hint \ and Captain Stubbs 
 was duly presented to Mrs. Manasseh. The lady was as gra- 
 cious as possible ; and when, at the end of the walk, we parted, 
 she said " she hoped Captain Dobble would bring me to her 
 apartments that evening, where she expected a few friends. " 
 Everybody, you see, knows everybody at Leamington ; and I, 
 for my part, was well known as a retired officer of the ar-ny, 
 who, on his father's death, had come into seven thousand a 
 year. Dobble's arrival had been subsequent to mine ; but put- 
 ting up as he did at the " Royal Hotel/' and dining at the ordi- 
 nary there with the widow, he had made her acquaintance before 
 I had. I saw, however, that if I allowed him to talk about me, 
 as he could, I should be compelled to give up all my hopes 
 and pleasures at Leamington ; and so I determined to be short 
 with him. As soon as the lady had gone into the hotel, my 
 friend Dobble was for leaving me likewise ; but I stopped him. 
 and said, " Mr. Dobble, I saw what you meant just now : you 
 wanted to cut me, because, forsooth, I did not choose to fight 
 a duel at Portsmouth. Now look you, Dobble, I am no hero, 
 but I'm not such a coward as you — and you know it. You are 
 a very different man to deal with from Waters ; and I will fight 
 this time." 
 
 Not perhaps that I would : but after the business of the 
 butcher, I knew Dobble to be as great a coward as ever lived ; 
 and there never was any harm in threatening, for you know 
 you are not obliged to stick to it afterwards. My words had 
 their effect upon Dobble, who stuttered and looked red, and 
 then declared he never had the slightest intention of passing 
 me by ; so we became friends, and his mouth was stopped. 
 
 He was very thick with the widow, but that lady had a very 
 capacious heart, and there were a number of other gentlemen 
 who seemed equally smitten with her. " Look at that Mrs. 
 Manasseh," said a gentleman (it was droll, he was a Jew, too) 
 sitting at dinner by me. " She is old, and ugly, and yet, be- 
 cause she has money, all the men are flinging themselves at 
 her." 
 
 " She has money, has she ? " 
 
 " Eighty thousand pounds, and twenty thousand for each of 
 her children. I know it for a fact" said the strange gentleman. 
 "I am in the law, and we of our faith, you know, know pretty 
 well what the great families amongst us are worth." 
 
 " Who was Mr. Manasseh ? " said I. 
 
 " A man of enormous wealth — a tobacco merchant — West 
 Indies; a fellow of no birth, however * and who, between our- 
 selves, married a woman that is not much better than she should 
 
766 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 be. My dear siiy* whispered he, " she Is always in love. Now 
 it is with that Captain Dobble ; last week it was somebody else 
 — and it may be you next week, if — ha ! ha ! ha ! — you are dis- 
 posed to enter the lists. I wouldn't, for my part, have the 
 woman with twice her money." 
 
 What did it matter to me whether the woman was good or 
 not, provided she was rich ? My course was quite clear. I 
 told Dobble all that this gentleman had informed me, and being 
 a pretty good hand at making a story, I made the widow appear 
 so bad, that the poor fellow was quite frightened, and fairly 
 quitted the field. Ha ! ha i I'm dashed if I did not make 
 him believe that Mrs. Manasseh had murdered her last husband. 
 
 I played my game so well, thanks to the information that 
 my friend the lawyer had given me, that in a month I had got 
 the widow to show a most decided partiality for me. I sat by 
 her at dinner, I drank with her at. the "Wells " — I rode with 
 her, I danced with her, and at a picnic to Kenilworth, where we 
 drank a good deal of champagne, I actually popped the ques- 
 tion, and was accepted. In another, month, Robert Stubbs, 
 Esq., led to the altar, Leah, widow of the late Z. Manasseh, 
 
 Esq., of St. Kitt's ! 
 
 # # * # # 
 
 We drove up to London in her comfortable chariot : the 
 children and servants following in a post-chaise. I paid, of 
 course, for everything ; and until our house in Berkeley Square 
 
 was painted, we stopped at " Stevens's Hotel." 
 
 * # # # # 
 
 My own estate had been sold, and the money was lying at 
 a bank in the City. About three days after our arrival, as we 
 took our breakfast in the hotel, previous to a visit to Mrs. 
 Stubbs's banker, where certain little transfers were to be made, 
 a gentleman was introduced, who, I saw at a glance, was of my 
 wife's persuasion. 
 
 He looked at Mrs. Stubbs, and made a bow. " Perhaps it 
 will be convenient to you to pay this little bill, one hundred and 
 fifty-two pounds ? " 
 
 " My love," says she, " will you pay this — it is a trifle which 
 I had really forgotten ? " 
 
 " My soul ! " said I, " I have really not the money in the 
 house." 
 
 " Vel, denn, Captain Shtubbsh," says he, "I must do my 
 duty — and arrest you — here is the writ ! Tom, keep the door ! " 
 — My wife fainted — the children screamed, and I fancy my 
 condition as I was obliged to march off to a sponging-house 
 along with a horrid sheriff's officer ! 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 767 
 
 OCTOBER.— MARS AND VENUS IN OPPOSITION. 
 
 I shall not describe my feelings when I found myself in a 
 cage in Cursitor Street, instead of that fine house in Berkeley 
 Square, which was to have been mine as the husband of Mrs. 
 Manasseh. What a place ! — in an odious, dismal street lead- 
 ing from Chancery Lane. A hideous Jew boy opened the sec- 
 ond of the three doors and shut it when Mr. Nabb and I (al- 
 most fainting) had entered ; then he opened the third door, and 
 then I was introduced to a filthy place called a coffee-room, 
 which I exchanged for the solitary comfort of a iittle dingy 
 back parlor, where I was left for a while to brood over my 
 miserable fate. Fancy the change between this and Berkeley 
 Square ! Was I, after all my pains, and cleverness, and perse- 
 verance, cheated at last ? Had this Mrs. Manasseh been im- 
 posing upon me, and were the words of the wretch I met at the 
 table-d'hote at Leamington only meant to mislead me and take 
 me in ? I determined to send for my wife, and know the whole 
 truth. I saw at once that I had been the victim of an infernal 
 plot, and that the carriage, the house in town, the West India 
 fortune, were only so many lies which I had blindly believed. 
 It was true the debt was but a hundred and fifty pounds ; and 
 I had two thousand at my bankers'. But was the loss of her 
 80,000/. nothing ? Was the destruction of my hopes nothing ? 
 The accursed addition to my family of a Jewish wife and three 
 Jewish children, nothing ? And all these I was to support out 
 of my two thousand pounds. I had better have stopped at 
 home with my mamma and sisters, whom I really did love, and 
 who produced me eighty pounds a year. 
 
 I had a furious interview with Mrs. Stubbs ; and when I 
 charged her, the base wretch ! with cheating me, like a brazen 
 serpent as she was, she flung back the cheat in my teeth, and 
 swore I' had swindled her. Why did I marry her, when she 
 might have had twenty others ? She only took me, she said, 
 because I had twenty thousand pounds. I had said I possessed 
 that sum ; but in love, you know, and war all's fair. 
 
 We parted quite as angrily as we met ; and I cordially vowed 
 that when I had paid the debt into which I had been swindled 
 by her, I would take my 2,000/. and depart to some desert island ; 
 or, at the very least, to America, and never see her more, or 
 any of . her Israelitish brood. There was no use in remaining 
 
768 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 in the sponging-house (for I knew that there were such things 
 as detainers, and that where Mrs. Stubbs owed a hundred 
 pounds, she might owe a thousand) : so I sent for Mr. Nabb, 
 and tendering him a check for 150/. and his costs, requested 
 to be let out forthwith. " Here, fellow/' said I, " is' a check 
 on Child's for your paltry sum." 
 
 " It may be a sheck on Shild's," says Mr. Nabb ) " but I 
 should be a baby to let you out on such a paper as dat." 
 
 " Well," said I, " Child's is but a step from this : you may 
 go and get the cash, — just give me an acknowledgment." 
 
 Nabb drew out the acknowledgment with great punctuality, 
 and set off for the bankers', whilst I prepared myself for de- 
 parture from this abominable prison. 
 
 He smiled as he came in. "Well," said I, "you have 
 touched your money ; and now, I must tell you, that you are 
 the most infernal rogue and extortioner I ever met with." 
 
 " Oh, no, Mishter Shtubbsh," says he, grinning still. " Dere 
 is some greater roag dan me, — mosh greater." 
 
 " Fellow," said I, "don't stand grinning before a gentle- 
 man j but give me my hat and cloak, and let me leave your 
 filthy den." 
 
 " Shtop, Shtubbsh," says he, not even Mistering me this 
 time. " Here ish a letter, vich you had better read." 
 
 I opened the letter ; something fell to the ground : — it was 
 my check. 
 
 The letter ran thus : " Messrs. Child and Co. present their 
 compliments to Captain Stubbs, and regret that they have been 
 obliged to refuse payment of the enclosed, having been served 
 this day with an attachment by Messrs. Solomonson and Co., 
 which, compels them to retain Captain Stubbs' balance of 
 2,010/. us. 6d. until the decision of the suit of Solomonson v. 
 Stubbs. Fleet Street." 
 
 " You see," says Mr. Nabb, as I read this dreadful letter — 
 " you see, Shtubbsh, dere vas two debts, — a little von and a big 
 von. So dey arrested you for de little von, and attashed your 
 money for de big von." 
 
 Don't laugh at me for telling this story. If you knew what 
 tears are blotting over the paper as I write it — if you knew that 
 for weeks after I was more like a madman than a sane man, — 
 a madman in the Fleet Prison, where I went instead of to the 
 desert island! What had I done to deserve it? Hadn't I 
 always kept an eye to the main chance ? Hadn't I lived econ- 
 omically, and not like other young men ? Had I ever been 
 known to squander or give away a single penny ? No ! I can 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 769 
 
 lay my hand on my heart, and, thank heaven, say, No ! Why; 
 was I punished so ? 
 
 Let me conclude this miserable history. Seven months — • 
 my wife saw me once or twice, and then dropped me altogether 
 — I remained in that fatal place. I wrote to my dear mamma, 
 begging her to sell her furniture, but got no answer. All my 
 old friends turned their backs upon me. My action went 
 against me — I had not a penny to defend it. Solomonson 
 proved my wife's debt, and seized my two thousand pounds. 
 As for the detainer against me, I was obliged to go through the 
 court for the relief of insolvent debtors. I passed through it, 
 and came out a beggar. But fancy the malice of that wicked 
 Stiffelkind : he appeared in court as my creditor for 3/., with 
 sixteen years' interest at five per cent., for a pair of top-boots. 
 The old thief produced them in court, and told the whole story 
 — Lord Cornwallis, the detection, the pumping and all. 
 
 Commissioner Dubobwig was very funny about it. " So 
 Doctor Swishtail would not pay you for the boots, eh, Mr. Stif- 
 felkind ? " 
 
 " No : he said, ven I asked him for payment, dey was 
 ordered by a yong boy, and I ought to have gone to his school- 
 master." 
 
 " What ! then you came on a bootless errand, ay, sir ? " (A 
 laugh.) 
 
 " Bootless ! no sare, I brought de boots back vid me. How 
 de devil else could I show dem to you ? H (Another laugh.) 
 
 " You've never soled 'em since, Mr. Tickleshins ? " 
 
 " I never would sell dem ; I svore I never vood, on porpus 
 to be revenged on dat Stobbs." 
 
 " What ! your wound has never been healed, eh ? " 
 
 " Vat de you mean vid your bootless errands, and your 
 soling and healing? I tell you I have done vat I svore to do : 
 I have exposed him at school ; I have broak off a marriage for 
 him, ven he vould have had tventy tousand pound ; and now I 
 have showed him up in a court of justice. Dat is vat I 'ave 
 done, and dat's enough." And then the old wretch went down, 
 whilst everybody was giggling and staring at poor me — as if I 
 was not miserable enough already. 
 
 " This seems the dearest pair of boots you ever had in your 
 life, Mr". Stubbs," said Commissioner Dubobwig very archly, 
 and then he began to inquire about the rest of my misfortunes. 
 
 In the fulness of my heart I told him the whole of them : 
 how Mr. Solomonson the attorney had introduced me to the 
 rich widow, Mrs. Manasseh, who had fifty thousand pounds, 
 
77° 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 and an estate in the West Indies. How I was married, and 
 arrested on coming to town, and cast in an action for two 
 thousand pounds brought against me by this very Solomonson 
 for my wife's debts. 
 
 " Stop ! " says a lawyer in the court. " Is this woman a 
 showy, black-haired woman with one eye? very often drunk, 
 with three children ? — Solomonson, short, with red hair ? " 
 
 " Exactly so," said I, witn tears in my eyes. 
 
 " That woman has married three me?i within the last two 
 years. One in Ireland, and one at Bath. A Solomonson is, 
 I believe, her husband, and they both are off for America ten 
 days ago." 
 
 " But why did you not keep your 2,000/. ? " said the lawyer. 
 " Sir, they attached it." 
 
 " Oh, well, we may pass you. You have been unlucky, Mr. 
 Stubbs, but it seems as if the biter had been bit in this affair." 
 " No," said Mr. Dubobwig. " Mr. Stubbs is the victim of 
 
 a FATAL ATTACHMENT." 
 
 NOVEMBER.— A GENERAL POST DELIVERY. 
 
 I was a free man when I went out of the Court ; but I was 
 a beggar — I, Captain Stubbs, of the bold North Bungays, did 
 not know where I could get a bed, or a dinner. 
 
 As I was marching sadly clown Portugal Street, I felt a 
 hand on my shoulder and a rough voice which I knew well. 
 
 " Veil, Mr. Stobbs, have I not kept my promise ? I told 
 you dem boots would be your ruin." f 
 
 I was much too miserable to reply ; and only cast my eyes 
 towards the roofs of the houses, which I could not see for the 
 tears. 
 
 " Vat ! you begin to gry and blobber like a shild f you vood 
 marry, vood you ? and noting vood do for you but a vife vid 
 monny — ha, ha — but you vere de pigeon, and she was de grow. 
 She has plocked you, too, pretty veil — eh ? ha ! ha ! " 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Stiff elkind,"*said I, " don't laugh at my misery : 
 she has not left me a single shilling under heaven. And I 
 shall starve : I do believe I shall starve." And I began to cry 
 fit to break my heart. 
 
 "Starf ! stoff and nonsense ! You vill never die of starring 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. yji 
 ) p > - * ' ; * % ' c'^j 
 
 — you vill die of hangi?ig, I tink — ho ! ho ! — and it is moch 
 easier vay too." I didn't say a word, but cried on ; till, every- 
 body in the street turned round and stared. 
 
 " Come, come/' said Stiffelkind, " do not gry, Captain 
 Stobbs — it is not goot for a Gaptain to gry — ha ! ha ! Dere — - 
 come vid me, and you shall have a dinner, and a bregfast too, 
 — vich shall gost you nothing, until you can bay vid your earn- 
 ings." * 
 
 And so this curious old man, who had persecuted me all 
 through my prosperity, grew compassionate towards me in my 
 ill-luck ; and took me home with him as he promised. " I saw 
 your name among de Insolvents, and I vowed, you know, to 
 make you repent dem boots. Dere now, it is done and for- 
 gotten, look you. Here, Betty, Bettchen, make de spare bed, 
 and put a clean knife and fork ; Lort Cornvallis is come to dine 
 vid me." - 
 
 I lived with this strange old man for six weeks. I kept his 
 books, and did what little I could to make myself useful : 
 carrying about boots and shoes, as if I had never borne his 
 Majesty's commission. He gave me no money, but he fed and 
 lodged me comfortably. The men and boys used to laugh, and 
 call me General, and Lord Cornwallis, and all sorts of nick- 
 names ; and old Stiffelkind made a thousand new ones for me. 
 
 One day I can recollect — one miserable day, as I was pol- 
 ishing on the trees a pair of boots of Mr. Stiffelkind's manufac- 
 ture — the old gentleman came into the shop, with a lady on his 
 arm. 
 
 " Vere is Gaptain Stobbs? " said he.T" Vere is dat orna- 
 ment to his Majesty's service ? " 
 
 I came in from the back shop, where I was polishing the 
 boots, with one of them in my hand. 
 
 " Look, my dear," says he, " here is an old friend of yours, 
 his Excellency Lort Cornvallis ! — Who would have thought 
 such a nobleman vood turn shoeblack ? Captain Stobbs, here 
 is your former flame, my dear niece, Miss Crotty. How could 
 you, Magdalen, ever leaf such a lof of a man ? Shake hands 
 vid her, Gaptain ; — dere, never mind de blacking ! " But Miss 
 drew back. 
 
 "I never shake hands with a shoeblack" said she, mighty 
 contemptuous. 
 
 " Bah ! my lof, his fingers von't soil you. Don't you know 
 he has just been vitewashed? 99 
 
 " I wish, uncle," says she, " you would not leave me with 
 such low people." 
 
j j 2 STORIES. 
 
 u Low, because he cleans boots ? De Gaptain prefers pumps 
 to boots I tink — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " Captain indeed ! a nice Captain," says Miss Crutty, snap- 
 ping her fingers in my face, and walking away : " a Captain 
 who has had his nose pulled! ha!' ha!" — And how could I 
 help it ? it wasn't by my own choice that that ruffian Waters 
 took such liberties with me. Didn't I show how averse I was 
 to all quarrels by refusing altogether his challenge ? — But such 
 is the world. And thus the people at Stiffelkind's used to 
 tease me, until they drove me almost mad, 
 
 At last he came home one day more merry and abusive than 
 ever. " Gaptain," says he, " I have goot news for you — a goot 
 place. Your lordship vill not be able to geep your garridge, 
 but you vill be gomfortable, and serve his Majesty." 
 
 " Serve his Majesty ? " says I, " Dearest Mr. Stiffelkind, 
 have you got me a place under Government ? " 
 
 " Yes, and somting better still — not only a place, but a 
 uniform : yes, Gaptain Stobbs, a red goat" 
 
 " A red coat ! I hope you don't think I would demean my- 
 self by entering the ranks of the army ? I am a gentleman, Mr. 
 Stiffelkind — I can never — no, I never " 
 
 " No, I know you will never — you are too great a go ward — - 
 ha ! ha ! — though dis is a red goat, and a place where you must 
 give some hard k?iocks too — ha ! ha ! — do you gomprehend ? — 
 and you shall be a general instead of a gaptain — ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " A general in a red coat, Mr. Stiffelkind ? " 
 
 " Yes, a General Bostman ! — ha ha ! I have been vid your 
 old friend, Bunting, and he has an uncle in the Post office, and 
 he has got you de place — eighteen shillings a veek, you rogue, 
 and your goat. You must not oben any of de letters you know." 
 
 And so it was — I, Robert Stubbs, Esquire, became the vile 
 
 thing he named — a general postman ! 
 
 $ # f # * 
 
 I was so disgusted with Stiffelkind's brutal jokes, which 
 were now more brutal than ever, that when I got my place in 
 the Post Office, I never went near the fellow again : for though 
 he had done me a favor in keeping me from starvation, he cer- 
 tainly had done it in a very rude, disagreeable manner, and 
 showed a low and mean spirit in shoving- me into such a de- 
 graded place as that of postman. But what had I to do ? I 
 submitted to fate, and for three years or more, Robert Stubbs, 
 of the North Bungay Fencibles, was- 
 
 I wonder nobody recognized me. I lived in daily fear the 
 first year : but afterwards grew accustomed to my situation, as 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 773 
 
 all great men will do, and wore my red coat as naturally as if 
 I had been sent into the world only for the purpose of being a 
 letter-carrier. 
 
 I was first in the Whitechapel district, where I stayed for 
 nearly three years, when I was transferred to Jermyn Street 
 and Duke Street — famous places for lodgings. I suppose I 
 left a hundred letters at a house in the latter street, where lived 
 some people who must have recognized me had they but once 
 chanced to look at me. 
 
 You see that, when I left Sloffemsquiggle, and set out in the 
 gay world, my mamma had written to me a dozen times at least ; 
 but I never answered her, for I knew she wanted money, and I 
 detest writing. Well, she stopped her letters, finding she could 
 get none from me :— but when I was in the Fleet, as I told you, 
 I wrote repeatedly to my dear mamma, and was not a little 
 nettled at her refusing to notice me in my distress, which is the 
 very time one most wants notice. 
 
 Stubbs is not an uncommon name ; and though I saw Mrs. 
 Stubbs on a little bright brass plate, in Duke Street, and de- 
 livered so many letters to the lodgers in her house, I never 
 thought of asking who she was, or whether she was my relation, 
 or not. 
 
 One day the young woman who took in the letters had not 
 got change, and she called her mistress. An old lady in a 
 poke-bonnet came out of the parlor, and put on her spectacles, 
 and looked at the letter, and fumbled in her pocket for eight- 
 pence, and apologized to the postman for keeping him waiting. 
 And when I said, " Never mind, Ma'am, it's no trouble," the 
 old lady gave a start, and then she pulled off her spectacles, 
 and staggered back ; and then she began muttering, as if about 
 to choke ; and then she gave a great screech, and flung herself 
 into my arms, and roared out, " My son, my son ! " 
 
 " Law, mamma," said I, ff is that you ? " and I sat down on 
 the hall bench with her, and let her kiss me as much as ever 
 she liked. Hearing the whining and crying, down comes 
 another lady from up stairs, — it was my sister Eliza ; and down 
 come the lodgers. And the maid gets water and what not, and 
 I was the regular hero of the group. I could not stay long then, 
 having my letters to deliver. But, in the evening, after mail- 
 time, I went back to my mamma and sister ; and, over a bottle 
 of prime old port, and a precious good leg of boiled mutton and 
 turnips, made myself pretty comfortable, I can tell you. 
 
774 
 
 STORIES. 
 
 DECEMBER.—" THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT." 
 
 Mamma had kept the house in Duke Street for more than 
 two years. I recollected some of the chairs and tables from 
 dear old Sloffemsquiggle, and the bowl in which I had made 
 that famous rum-punch, the evening she went away, which she 
 and my sisters left untouched, and I was obliged to drink after 
 they were gone ; but that's not to the purpose. 
 
 Think of my sister Lucy's luck ! that chap, Waters, fell in 
 love with her, and married her ; and she now keeps her carriage, 
 and lives in state near Sloffemsquiggle. I offered to make it 
 up with Waters ; but he bears malice, and never will see or 
 speak to me. — He had the impudence, too, to say, that he took 
 in all letters for mamma at Sloffemsquiggle ; and that as mine 
 were all begging-letters, he burned them, and never said a word 
 to her concerning them. He allowed mamma fifty pounds a 
 year, and, if she were not such a fool, she might have had three 
 times as much ; but the old lady was high and mighty forsooth, 
 and would not be beholden, even to her own daughter, for 
 more than she actually w r anted. Even this fifty pound she was 
 going to refuse ; but when I came to live with her, of course I 
 wanted pocket-money as well as board and lodging, and so I 
 had the fifty pounds for my share, and eked out with it as well 
 as I could. 
 
 Old Bates and the Captain, between them, gave mamma a 
 hundred pounds when she left me (she had the deuce's own 
 luck, to be sure — much more than ever fell to me, I know) ; and 
 as she said she would try and work for her living, it was thought 
 "best to take a house and let lodgings, which she did. Our first 
 and second floor paid us four guineas a week, on an average ; 
 and the front parlor and attic made forty pounds more. Mamma 
 and Eliza used to have the front attic : but / took that, and 
 they slept in the servants' bedroom. Lizzy had a pretty genius 
 for work, and earned a guinea a week that way ; so that we had 
 got nearly two hundred a year over the rent to keep house with, 
 — and we got on pretty well. Besides, women eat nothing : 
 my women didn't care for meat for days together sometimes, — 
 so that it was only necessary to dress a good steak or so for 
 me. 
 
 Mamma would not think of my continuing in the Post Office. 
 She said her dear Robert, her husband's son, her gallant soldier, 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 775 
 
 and all that, should remain at home and be a gentleman — which 
 I was, certainly, though I didn't find fifty pounds a year very 
 much to buy clothes and be a gentleman upon. To be sure, 
 mother found me shirts and linen, so that that wasn't in the 
 fifty pounds. She kicked a little at paying the washing too ; 
 bnt she gave in at last, for I was her dear Bob, you know ; and 
 I'm blest if \ could not make her give me the gown off her 
 back. Fancy ! once she cut up a very nice rich black silk 
 scarf, which my sister Waters sent her, and made me a waist- 
 coat and two stocks of it. She was so very soft, the old lady ! 
 # # * # # m * 
 
 I'd lived in this way for five years or more, making myself 
 content with my fifty pounds a year ( perhaps I'd saved a little 
 out of it : but that's neither here nor there). From year's end 
 to year's end I remained faithful to my dear mamma, never 
 leaving her except for a month or so in the summer — when a 
 bachelor may take a trip to Gravesend or Margate, which would 
 be too expensive for a family. I say a bachelor, for the fact is, 
 I don't know whether I am married or not — never having heard 
 a word since of the scoundrelly Mrs. Stubbs. 
 
 I never went to the public-house before meals : for, with my 
 beggarly fifty pounds, I could not afford to dine away from 
 home : but there I had my regular seat, and used to come home 
 pretty glorious, I can tell you. Then bed till eleven j then 
 breakfast and the newspaper ; then a stroll in Hyde Park or 
 St. James's ; then home at half-past three to dinner— when I 
 jollied, as I call it, for the. rest of the day. I was my mother's 
 delight ; and thus, with a clear conscience, I managed to live on. 
 
 7v "7v *7v "TV 'A~ *7V *7v 
 
 How fond she was of me, to be sure ! Being sociable my- 
 self, and loving to have my friends about me, we often used to 
 assemble a company of as hearty fellows as you would wish to 
 sit down with, and keep the nights up royally. " Never mind, 
 my boys," I used to say. " Send the bottle round : mammy 
 pays for all." As she did, sure enough : and sure enough we 
 punished her cellar too. The good old -lady used to wait upon 
 us, as if for all the world she had been my servant, instead of 
 a lady and my mamma. Never used she to repine, though I 
 often, as I must confess, gave her occasion (keeping her up till 
 four o'clock in the morning, because she never could, sleep 
 until she saw her " dear Bob " in bed, and leading her a sad 
 anxious life). She was of such a sweet temper, the old lady, 
 that I think in the course of five years I never knew her in a 
 passion, except twice : and then with sister Lizzy, who declared 
 
776 
 
 STOETES. 
 
 I was ruining the house, and driving the lodgers away, one by 
 one. But mamma would not hear of such envious spite on my 
 sister's part. " Her Bob " was always right, she said. At last 
 Lizzy fairly retreated, and went to the Waters's. — I was glad of 
 it, for her temper was dreadful, and we used to be squabbling 
 from morning till night ! 
 
 Ah, those were jolly times ! but Ma was obliged to give up 
 the lodging-house at last — for, somehow, things went wrong 
 after my sister's departure — the nasty uncharitable people said, 
 on account of me ; because I drove away the lodgers by smok- 
 ing and drinking, and kicking up noises in the house ; and 
 because Ma gave me so much of her money ; — so she did, but 
 if she would give it, you know, how could I help it ? Heigho ! 
 I wish I'd kept it. 
 
 No such luck. The business I thought was to last forever ; 
 but at the end of two years came a smash — shut up shop — sell 
 off everything. Mamma went to the Waters's : and, will you 
 believe it ? the ungrateful wretches would not receive me ! that 
 Mary, you see, was so disappointed at not marrying me. Twenty 
 pounds a year they allow, it is true j but what's that for a gentle- 
 man ? For twenty years I have been struggling manfully to 
 gain an honest livelihood, and, in the course of them, have 
 seen a deal of life, to be sure. I've s©ld cigars and pocket- 
 handkerchiefs at the corners of streets ; I've been a billiard- 
 marker ; I've been a director (in the panic year) of the Imperial 
 British Consolidated Mangle and Drying Ground Company. 
 I've been on the stage (for two years as an actor, and about a 
 month as a cad, when I was very low) ; I've been the means of 
 giving to the police of this empire some ver^- valuable informa- 
 tion (about licensed victuallers, gentlemen's carts, and pawn- 
 brokers' names) ; I've been very nearly an officer again — that 
 is, an assistant to an officer of the Sheriff of Middlesex : it was 
 my last place. 
 
 On the last day of the year 1837, even that game was up. 
 It's a thing that very seldom happened to a gentleman, to be 
 kicked out of a sponging-house ; but such was my case. Young 
 Nabb (who succeeded his father) drove me ignominiously from 
 his door, because I had charged a gentleman in the coffee-rooms 
 seven-and-sixpence for a glass of ale and bread-and-cheese, the 
 charge of the house being only six shillings. He had the mean- 
 ness to deduct the eighteenpence from my wages, and because 
 I blustered a bit, he took me by the shoulders and turned me 
 out — me, a gentleman, and, what is more, a poor orphan ! 
 
 How I did rage and swear at him when I got out into the 
 
THE FATAL BOOTS. 
 
 777 
 
 street ! There stood he, the hideous Jew monster, at the 
 
 double door, writhing under the effect of my language. I had 
 
 my revenge ! Heads were thrust out of every bar of his windows 
 
 laughing at him. A crowd gathered round me, as I stood 
 
 pounding him with my satire, and they evidently enjoyed his 
 
 discomfiture. I think the mob would have pelted the ruffian to 
 
 death (one or two of their missiles hit me, I can tell you), when 
 
 a policeman came up, and in reply to a gentleman, who was 
 
 asking what was the disturbance, said, "Bless you, sir, it's 
 
 Lord Cornwallis." " Move on, Boots" said the fellow to me ; 
 
 for the fact is, my misfortunes and early life are pretty well 
 
 known — and so the crowd dispersed. 
 
 "What could have made that policeman call you Lord Corn- 
 
 wallis and Boots ? " said the gentleman, who seemed mightily 
 
 amused, and had followed me. " Sir," says I, " I am an 
 
 unfortunate officer of the North Bungay Fencibles, and I'll tell 
 
 you willingly for a pint of beer." He told me to follow him to 
 
 his chambers in the Temple, which I did (a five pair back), and 
 
 there, sure enough, I had the beer • and told him this very story 
 
 you've been reading. You see he is what is called a literary 
 
 man — and sold my adventures for me to the booksellers : he's 
 
 a strange chap ; and says they're moral, 
 
 ###### 
 
 I'm blest if /can see anything moral in them. I'm sure I 
 ought to have been more lucky through life, being so very wide 
 awake. And yet here I am, without a place, or even a friend, 
 starving upon a beggarly twenty pounds a vear — not a single 
 sixpence more, upon my honor. 
 
LITTLE TRAVELS 
 
 AND 
 
 ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
( 
 
 LITTLE TRAVELS 
 
 AND 
 
 ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 I. — From Richmond in Surrey to Brussels in Belgium. 
 
 * * I quitted the " Rose Cottage Hotel " at Richmond, 
 one of the comfortablest, quietest, cheapest, neatest little inns 
 in England, and a thousand times preferable, in my opinion, to 
 the " Star and Garter," whither, if you go alone, a sneering 
 waiter, with Kis hair curled, frightens you off the premises ; and 
 where, if you are bold enough to brave the sneering waiter, you 
 have to pay ten shillings for a bottle of claret ; and whence, if 
 you look out of the window, you gaze on a view which is so 
 rich that it seems to knock you down with its splendor — a view 
 that has its hair curled like the swaggering waiter : I say, I 
 quitted the " Rose Cottage Hotel " with deep regret, believing 
 that I should see nothing so pleasant as its gardens, and its 
 .veal cutlets, and its dear little bowling-green, elsewhere. But 
 the time comes when people must go out of town, and so I got 
 on the top of the omnibus, and the carpet-bag was put inside. 
 
 If I were a great prince and rode outside of coaches (as I 
 should if I were a great prince), I would, whether I smoked 
 or not, have a case of the best Havanas in my pocket — not 
 for my own smoking, but to give them to the snobs on the 
 coach, who smoke the vilest cheroots. They poison the air 
 with the odor of their filthy weeds. A man at all easy in his 
 circumstances would spare himself much annoyance by taking 
 the above simple precaution. 
 
 (781) 
 
782 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 A gentleman sitting behind me tapped me on the back and 
 asked for a light. He was a footman, or rather valet. He 
 had no livery, but the three friends who accompanied him 
 were tall men in pepper-and-salt undress jackets with a duke's 
 coronet on their buttons. 
 
 After tapping me on the back, and when he had finished 
 his cheroot, the gentleman produced another wind-instrument, 
 which he called a " kinopium," a sort of trumpet, on which he 
 showed a great inclination to play. He began puffing out of 
 the " kinopium " a most abominable air, which he said was the 
 " Duke's March." It was played by particular request of one 
 of the pepper-and-salt gentry. 
 
 The noise was so abominable that even the coachman 
 objected (although my friend's brother footmen were ravished 
 with it), and said that it was not allowed to play toons on his 'bus. 
 
 " Very well, said the valet, " we're only of the Duke of B *s 
 
 establishment, that's all." The coachman could not resist 
 that appeal to his fashionable feelings. The valet was allowed 
 to play his infernal kinopium, and the poor fellow (the coach- 
 man), who had lived in some private families, was quite anxious 
 to conciliate the footmen "of the Duke of B.'s "establishment, 
 that's all, and told several stories of his having been groom in 
 Captain Hoskins's family, nephew of Governor Hoskins ; which 
 stories the footmen received with great contempt. 
 
 The footmen were like the rest of the fashionable world in 
 this respect. I felt for my part that I respected them. They 
 were in daily communication with a duke ! They were not the 
 rose, but they had lived beside it. There is an odor in the 
 English aristocracy which intoxicates plebeians. I am sure 
 that any commoner in England, though he would die rather 
 than confess it, would have a respect for those great big hulking 
 Duke's footmen. 
 
 The day before, her Grace the Duchess had passed us alone 
 in a chariot-and-four with two outriders. What better mark of 
 innate superiority could man want ? Here was a slim lady 
 who required four — six horses to herself, and four servants 
 (kinopium was, no doubt, one of the number) to guard her. 
 
 We were sixteen inside and out, and had consequently an 
 eighth of a horse apiece. 
 
 A duchess = 6, a commoner yi \ that is to say, 
 i duchess = 48 commoners. 
 
 If I were a duchess of the present day, I would say to the 
 duke my noble husband, " My dearest grace, I think, when I 
 travel alone in my chariot from Hammersmith to London, I will 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 7*3 
 
 not care for the outriders. In these days, when there is so 
 much poverty and so much disaffection in the country, we should 
 not eclabousser the canaille with the sight of our preposterous 
 prosperity." 
 
 But this is very likely only plebeian envy, and I dare say, 
 if I were a lovely duchess of the realm, I would ride in a coach 
 and six, with a coronet on the top of my bonnet and a robe of 
 velvet and ermine even in the dog-days. 
 
 Alas ! these are the dog-days. Many dogs are abroad — 
 snarling dogs, biting dogs, envious dogs, mad dogs ; beware 
 of exciting the fury of such with your flaming red velvet and 
 dazzling ermine. It makes ragged Lazarus doubly hungry to 
 see Dives feasting in cloth-of-gold ; and so if I were a beaute- 
 ous duchess * * * Silence, vain man ! Can the Queen 
 herself make you a duchess ? Be content, then, nor gibe at thy 
 betters of "the Duke of B 's establishment — that's all." 
 
 On board the tJ Antwerpen" off everywhere. 
 
 We have bidden adieu to Billingsgate, we have passed the 
 Thames Tunnel ; it is one o'clock, and of course people are 
 thinking of being hungry. What a merry place a steamer is on 
 a calm sunny summer forenoon, and what an appetite every 
 one seems to have! We are, I assure you, no less than 170 
 noblemen and gentlemen together, pacing up and down under 
 the awning, or lolling on the sofas in the cabin, and hardly 
 have we passed Greenwich when the feeding begins. The com- 
 pany was at the brandy and soda-water in an instant (there is 
 a sort of legend that the beverage is a preservative against sea- 
 sickness), and I admired the penetration of gentlemen who 
 partook of 'the drink. In the first place, the steward will put so 
 much brandy into the tumbler that it is fit to choke you ; and, 
 secondly, the soda-water, being kept as near as possible to the 
 boiler of the engine, is of a fine wholesome heat when pre- 
 sented to the hot and thirsty traveller. Thus he is prevented 
 from catching any sudden cold which might be dangerous to 
 him. 
 
 The forepart of the vessel is crowded to the full as much as 
 the genteeler quarter. There are four carriages, each with 
 piles of imperials and aristocratic gimcracks of travel, under the 
 wheels of which those personages have to clamber who have a 
 mind to look at the bowsprit, and perhaps to smoke a cigar at 
 ease. The carriages overcome, you find yourself confronted by 
 a huge penful of Durham oxen, lying on hay and surrounded 
 by a barricade of oars. Fifteen of these horned monsters main- 
 
784 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 tain an incessant mooing and bellowing. Beyond the cows 
 come a heap of cotton-bags, beyond the cotton-bags more 
 carriages, more pyramids of travelling trunks, and valets and 
 couriers bustling and swearing round about them. And al- 
 ready, and in various corners and niches, lying on coils of rope, 
 black tar-cloths, ragged cloaks, or hay, you see a score of those 
 dubious fore-cabin passengers, who are never shaved, who 
 always look unhappy, and appear getting ready to be sick. 
 
 At one, dinner begins in the after-cabin — boiled salmon, 
 boiled beef, boiled mutton, boiled cabbage, boiled potatoes, and 
 parboiled wine for any gentlemen who like it, and two roast- 
 ducks between seventy. After this, knobs of cheese are handed 
 round on a plate, and there is a talk of a tart somewhere at 
 some end of the table. All this I saw peeping through a sort 
 of meat-safe which ventilates the top of the cabin, and very 
 happy and hot did the people seem below. 
 
 " How the deuce can people dine at such an hour ? " say 
 several genteel fellows who are watching the manoeuvres. " I 
 can't touch a morsel before seven." 
 
 But somehow at half-past three o'clock we had dropped a 
 long way down the river. The air was delightfully fresh, the 
 sky of a faultless cobalt, the river shining and flashing like 
 quicksilver, and at this period steward runs against me bearing 
 two great smoking dishes covered by two great glistening hemi- 
 spheres of tin. " Fellow," says I, " what's that ? " 
 
 He lifted up the cover : it was ducks and green pease, by 
 jingo ! 
 
 " What ! haven't they done yet, the greedy creatures ? " I 
 asked. " Have the people been feeding for three hours ? " 
 
 " Law bless you, sir, it's the second dinner. Make haste, 
 or you won't get a place." At which words a genteel party, 
 with whom I had been conversing, instantly tumbled down the 
 hatchway, and I find myself one of the second relay of seventy 
 who are attacking the boiled salmon, boiled beef, boiled cab- 
 bage, &c. As for the ducks, I certainly had some pease, very 
 fine yellow stiff pease, that ought to have been split before they 
 were boiled ; but, with regard to the ducks, I saw the animals 
 gobbled up before my eyes by an old widow lady and her party 
 just as I was shrieking to the steward to bring a knife and fork 
 to carve them. The fellow ! (I mean the widow lady's whis- 
 kered companion) — I saw him eat pease with the very knife 
 with which he had dissected the duck ! 
 
 After dinner (as I need not tell the keen observer of human 
 nature who peruses this) the human mind, if the body be in a 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 785 
 
 decent state, expands into gayety and benevolence, and the 
 intellect longs to measure itself in friendly converse with the 
 divers intelligences around it. We ascend upon deck, and after 
 eyeing each other for a brief space and with a friendly modest 
 hesitation, we begin anon to converse about the weather and 
 other profound and delightful themes of English discourse. We 
 confide to each other our respective opinions of the ladies round 
 about us. Look at that charming creature in a pink bonnet 
 and a dress of the pattern of a Kilmarnock snuff-box : a stal- 
 wart Irish gentleman in a green coat and bushy red whiskers is 
 whispering something very agreeable into her ear, as is the wont 
 of gentlemen of his nation ; for her dark eyes kindle, her red 
 lips open and give an opportunity to a dozen beautiful pearly 
 teeth to display themselves, and glance brightly in the sun ; 
 while round the teeth and the lips a number of lovely dimples 
 make their appearance, and her whole countenance assumes a 
 look of perfect health and happiness. See her companion 
 in shot silk and a dove-colored parasol : in what a graceful 
 W T atteau-like attitude she reclines. The tall courier who has 
 been bouncing about the deck in attendance upon these ladies 
 (it is his first day of service, and he is eager to make a favor- 
 able impression on them and the lady's-maids too) has just 
 brought them from the carriage a small paper of sweet cakes 
 (nothing is prettier than to see a pretty woman eating sweet 
 biscuits) and a bottle that evidently contains Malmsey Madeira. 
 How daintily they sip it ; how happy they seem ; how that lucky 
 rogue of an Irishman prattles away ! Yonder is a noble group 
 indeed : an English gentleman and his family. Children,' 
 mother, grandmother, grown-up daughters, father, and domes- 
 tics, twenty-two in all. They have a table to themselves on 
 the deck, and the consumption of eatables among them is really 
 endless. The nurses have been bustling to and fro, and bring- 
 ing, first, slices of cake ; then dinner ; then tea with huge family 
 jugs of milk ; and the little people have been playing hide-and- 
 seek round the deck, coquetting with the other children, and 
 making friends of every soul on board. I love to see the kind 
 eyes of women fondly watching them as they gambol about ; a 
 female face, be it ever so plain, when occupied in regarding 
 children, becomes celestial almost, and a man can hardly fail 
 to be good and happy w r hile he is looking on at such sights. 
 " Ah, sir ! " says a great big man, whom you would not accuse 
 of sentiment, " I have a couple of those little things at home ; " 
 and he stops and heaves a great big sigh and swallows down a 
 half tumbler of cold something and water. We know what the 
 
 ■ 
 
786 LITTLk TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 honest fellow means well enough. He is saying to himself, 
 " God bless my girls and their mother ! " but, being a Briton, 
 is too manly to speak out in a more intelligible way. Perhaps 
 it is as well for him to be quiet, and not chatter and gesticulate 
 like those Frenchmen a few yards from him, who are chirping 
 over a bottle of champagne. 
 
 There is, as you may fancy, a number of such groups on 
 the deck, and a pleasant occupation it is for a lonely man to 
 watch them and build theories upon them, and examine those 
 two personages seated cheek by jowl. One is an English youth, 
 travelling for the first time, who has been hard at his Guide- 
 book during the whole journey. He has a " Manuel du Voy- 
 ageur " in his pocket : a very pretty, amusing little oblong work 
 it is too, and might be very useful, if the foreign people in three 
 languages, among whom you travel, would but give the answers 
 set down in the book, or understand the questions you put to 
 them out of it. The other honest gentleman in the fur cap, 
 what can his occupation be ? We know him at once for what 
 he is. " Sir/' says he, in a fine German accent, " I am a bro- 
 fessor of languages, and will gif you lessons in Danish, Swedish, 
 English, Bortuguese, Spanish and Bersian." Thus occupied in 
 meditations, the rapid hours and the rapid steamer pass quickly 
 on. The sun is sinking, and, as he drops, the ingenious lumi- 
 nary sets the Thames on fire : several worthy gentlemen, watch 
 in hand, are eagerly examining the phenomena attending his 
 disappearance, — rich clouds of purple and gold, that form the 
 curtains of his bed, — little barks that pass black across his 
 disc, his disc every instant dropping nearer and nearer into the 
 water. " There he goes ! " says one sagacious observer. " No, 
 he doesn't," cries another. Now he is gone, and the steward 
 is already threading the deck, asking the passengers, right and 
 left, if they will take a little supper. What a grand object is a 
 sunset, and what a wonder is an appetite at sea ! Lo ! the 
 horned moon shines pale over Margate, and the red beacon is 
 
 gleaming from distant Ramsgate pier. 
 
 # * # # * 
 
 A great rush is speedily made for the mattresses that lie in 
 the boat at the ship's side ; and as the night is delightfully 
 calm, many fair ladies and worthy men determine to couch on 
 deck for the night. The proceedings of the former, especially 
 if they be young and pretty, the philosopher watches with in- 
 describable emotion and interest. What a number of pretty 
 coquetries do the ladies perform, and into what pretty attitudes 
 do they take care to fall ! All the little children have been 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 787 
 
 gathered up by the nursery-maids, and are taken down to roost 
 below. Balmy sleep seals the eyes of many tired wayfarers, as 
 you see in the case of the Russian nobleman asleep among the 
 portmanteaus ; and Titmarsh, who has been walking the deck 
 for some time with a great mattress on his shoulders, knowing 
 full well that were he to relinquish it for an instant, some other 
 person would seize on it, now stretches his bed upon the deck, 
 wraps his cloak about his knees, draws his white cotton night- 
 cap tight over his head and ears ; and, as the smoke of his 
 cigar rises calmy upwards to the deep sky and the cheerful 
 twinkling stars, he feels himself exquisitely happy, and thinks 
 of thee, my Juliana ! 
 
 *XF ~)(~ ^ "^r 
 
 Why people, because they are in a steamboat, should get 
 up so deucedly early I cannot understand. Gentlemen have 
 been walking over my legs ever since three o'clock this morn- 
 ing, and, no doubt, have been indulging in personalities (which 
 I hate) regarding my appearance and manner of sleeping, lying, 
 snoring. Let the wags laugh on ; but a far pleasanter occupa- 
 tion is to sleep until breakfast time, or near it. 
 
 The tea, and ham and eggs, which, with a beefsteak or 
 two, and three or four rounds of toast, form the component 
 parts of the above-named elegant meal, are taken in the River 
 Scheldt. Little neat, plump-looking churches and villages are 
 rising here and there among tufts of trees and pastures that 
 are wonderfully green. To the right, as the " Guide-book " 
 says, is Walcheren : and on the left Cadsand, memorable for 
 the English expedition of 1809, when Lord Chatham, Sir 
 Walter Manny, and Henry Earl of Derby, at the head of the 
 English, gained a great victory over the Flemish mercenaries 
 in the pay of Philippe of Valois. The cloth-yard shafts of 
 the English archers did great execution. Flushing was taken, 
 and Lord Chatham returned to England, where he distinguished 
 himself greatly in the debates on the American war, which he 
 called the brightest jewel of the British crown. You see, my 
 love, that, though an artist by profession, my education has by 
 no means been neglected ; and what, indeed, would be the 
 pleasure of travel, unless these charming historical recollec- 
 tions were brought to bear upon it ? 
 
 Antwerp. 
 
 As many hundreds of thousands of English visit this city 
 (I have met at least a hundred of them in this half-hour walk- 
 ing the streets, " Guide-book " in hand), and as the ubiquitous 
 Murray has already depicted the place, there is no need to 
 
788 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 enter into a long description of it, its neatness, its beauty, and 
 its stiff antique splendor. The tall pale houses have many of 
 them crimped gables, that look like Queen Elizabeth's ruffs. 
 There are as many people in the streets as in London at three 
 o'clock in the morning ; the market-women wear bonnets of a 
 flower-pot shape, and have shining brazen milk-pots, which are 
 delightful to the eyes of a painter. Along the quays of the 
 lazy Scheldt are innumerable good-natured groups of beer- 
 drinkers (small-beer is the most good-natured drink in the 
 world) ; along the barriers outside of the town, and by the 
 glistening canals, are more beer-shops and more beer drinkers. 
 The city is defended by the queerest fat military. The chief 
 traffic is between the hotels and the railroad. The hotels give 
 wonderful good dinners, and especially at the " Grand Labour- 
 eur" may be mentioned a peculiar tart, which is the best of all 
 tarts that ever a man ate since he was ten years old. A moon- 
 light walk is delightful. At ten o'clock the whole city is quiet ; 
 and so little changed does it seem to be, that you may walk 
 back three hundred years into time, and fancy yourself a ma- 
 jestical Spaniard, or an oppressed and patriotic Dutchman at 
 your leisure. You enter the inn, and the old Quentin Durward 
 courtyard, on which the old towers look down. There is a 
 sound of singing — singing at midnight. Is it Don Sombrero, 
 who is singing an Andalusian seguidilla under the window of 
 the Flemish burgomaster's daughter ? Ah, no ! it is a fat 
 Englishman in a zephyr coat : he is drinking cold gin-and-water 
 in the moonlight, and warbling softly — 
 
 " Nix my dolly, pals, fake away, 
 
 N-ix my dolly, pals, fake a — a — way." * 
 
 I wish the good people would knock off the top part of 
 Antwerp Cathedral spire. Nothing can be more gracious and 
 elegant than the lines of the first two compartments ; but near 
 the top there bulges out a little round, ugly, vulgar Dutch 
 monstosity (for which the architects have, no doubt, a name) 
 which offends the eye cruelly. Take the Apollo, and set upon 
 him a bob-wig and a little cocked-hat ; imagine " God Save 
 the King" ending with a jig; fancy a polonaise, or procession 
 of slim, stately, elegant court beauties, headed by a buffoon 
 dancing a hornpipe. Marshal Gerard should have discharged 
 a bomb-shell at that abomination, and have given the noble 
 steeple a chance to be finished in the grand style of the early 
 fifteenth century, m which it was begun. 
 
 * In 1844/ 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 789 
 
 This style of criticism is base and mean, and quite contrary 
 to the orders of the immortal Goethe, who was only for allow- 
 ing the eye to recognize the beauties of a great work, but would 
 have its defects passed over. It is an unhappy, luckless or- 
 ganization which will be perpetually fault-finding, and in the 
 midst of a grand concert of music will persist only in hearing 
 that unfortunate fiddle out of tune. 
 
 Within — except where the rococo architects have introduced 
 their ornaments (here is the fiddle out of tune again) — the 
 cathedral is noble. A rich, tender sunshine is streaming in 
 through the windows, and gilding the stately edifice with the 
 purest light. The admirable stained-glass windows are not too 
 brilliant in their colors. The organ is playing a rich, solemn 
 music ; some two hundred people are listening to the service ; 
 and there is scarce one of the women kneeling on her chair, 
 enveloped in her full, majestic black drapery, that is not a fine 
 study for a painter. These large black mantles of heavy silk 
 brought over the heads of the women, and covering their persons, 
 fall into such fine folds of drapery, that they cannot help being 
 picturesque and noble. See, kneeling by the side of two of 
 those fine devout-looking figures, is a lady in a little twiddling 
 Parisian hat and feather, in a little lace mantelet, in a tight 
 gown and a bustle. She is almost as monstrous as yonder fig- 
 ure of the Virgin, in a hoop, and with a huge crown and a ball 
 and a sceptre ; and a bambino dressed in a little hoop, and in 
 a little crown, round which are clustered flowers and pots of 
 orange-trees, and before which many of the faithful are at 
 prayer. Gentle clouds of incense come wafting through the 
 vast edifice ; and in the lulls of the music you hear the faint 
 chant of the priest, and the silver tinkle of the bell. 
 
 Six Englishmen, with the commissionaires, and the " Mur- 
 ray's Guide-books " in their hands, are looking at the " De- 
 scent from the Cross." Of this picture the " Guide-book " 
 gives you orders how to judge. If it is the end of religious 
 painting to express the religious sentiment, a hundred of infe- 
 rior pictures must rank before the .Rubens. Who was ever 
 piously affected by any picture of the master ? He can depict 
 a living thief writhing upon the cross, sometimes a blonde 
 Magdalen weeping below it ; but it is a Magdalen a very short 
 time indeed after her repentance : her yellow brocades and 
 flaring satins are still those which she wore when she was in 
 the world • her body has not yet lost the marks of the feasting 
 and voluptuousness in which she used to indulge, according to 
 
790 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 the legend. Not one of the Rubens' pictures among all the 
 scores that decorate chapels and churches here, has the least 
 tendency to purify, to touch the affections, or to awaken the 
 feelings of religious respect and wonder. The " Descent from 
 the Cross " is vast, gloomy, and awful ; but the awe inspired 
 by it is, as I take it, altogether material. He might have 
 painted a picture of any criminal broken on the wheel, .and the 
 sensation inspired by it would have been precisely similar. 
 Nor in a religious picture do you want the savior-faire of the 
 master to be always protruding itself ; it detracts from the feel- 
 ing of reverence, just as the thumping of cushion and the spout- 
 ing of tawdry oratory does from a sermon • meek religion dis- 
 appears, shouldered out of the desk by the pompous, stalwart, 
 big-chested, fresh-colored, bushy-whiskered pulpiteer. Rubens' 
 piety has always struck us as of this sort. If he takes a pious 
 subject, it is to show you in what a fine way he, Peter Paul 
 Rubens, can treat it. He never seems to doubt but that he is 
 doing it a great honor. His " Descent from the Cross " and 
 its accompanying wings and cover, are a set of puns upon the 
 word Christopher, of which the taste is more odious than that of 
 the hooped-petticoated Virgin yonder, with her artificial flowers, 
 and her rings and brooches. The people who made an offer- 
 ing of that hooped petticoat did their best, at any rate ; they 
 knew no better. There is humility in that simple, quaint pres- 
 ent ; trustfulness and kind intention. Looking about at other 
 altars, you see (much to the horror of pious Protestants) all 
 sorts of queer little emblems hanging up under little pyramids 
 of penny candles that are sputtering and flaring there. Here 
 you have a silver arm, or a little gold toe, or a wax leg, or a 
 gilt eye, signifying and commemorating cures that have been 
 performed by the supposed intercession of the saint over whose 
 chapel they hang. Well, although they are abominable super- 
 stitions, yet these queer little offerings seem to me to be a 
 great deal more pious than Rubens' big pictures ; just as is the 
 widow with her poor little mite compared to the swelling Phari- 
 see who flings his purse of gold into the plate. 
 
 A couple of days of Rubens and his church pictures makes 
 one thoroughly and entirely sick of him. His very genius and 
 splendor palls upon one, even taking the pictures as worldly 
 pictures. One grows weary of being perpetually feasted with 
 this rich, coarse, steaming food. Considering them as church 
 pictures, I don't want to go to church to hear, however splen- 
 did, an organ play the " British Grenadiers." 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 791 
 
 The Antwerpians have set up a clumsy bronze statue of 
 their divinity in a square of the town ; and those who have not 
 enough of Rubens in the churches may study him, and indeed 
 to much greater advantage, in a good, well-lighted museum. 
 Here, there is one picture, a dying saint taking the communion, 
 a large piece ten or eleven feet high, and painted in an in- 
 credibly short space of time, which is extremely curious indeed 
 for the painters study. The picture is scarcely more than an 
 immense magnificent sketch • but it tells the secret of the 
 artist's manner, which, in the midst of its dash and splendor, is 
 curiously methodical. Where the shadows are warm the lights 
 are cold, and vice versd ; and the picture has been so rapidly 
 painted, that the tints lie raw by the side of one another, the 
 artist not having taken the trouble to blend them. 
 
 There are two exquisite Vandykes (whatever Sir Joshua 
 may say of them), and in which the very management of the 
 gray tones which the President abuses forms the principal ex- 
 cellence and charm. Why, after all, are we not to have our 
 opinion ? Sir Joshua is not the Pope. The color of one of 
 those Vandykes is as fine as fine Paul Veronese, and the senti- 
 ment beautifully tender and graceful. 
 
 I saw, too, an exhibition of the modern Belgian artists 
 (1843), tf ie remembrance of whose pictures after a month's 
 absence has almost entirely vanished. Wappers' hand, as I 
 thought, seemed to have grown old and feeble, Verboeck- 
 hoven's cattle-pieces are almost as good as Paul Potter's, and 
 Keyser has dwindled down into namby-pamby prettiness, piti- 
 ful to see in the gallant young painter who astonished the 
 Louvre artists ten years ago by a hand almost as dashing and 
 
 caricatures of the new German schools, which are in themselves 
 caricatures of the masters before Raphael. 
 
 An instance of honesty may be mentioned here with ap- 
 plause. The writer lost a pocket-book containing a passport 
 and a couple of modest ten pound notes. The person who 
 found the portfolio ingeniously put it into the box of the post- 
 office, and it was faithfully restored to the owner ; but some- 
 how the two ten-pound notes were absent. It was, however, a 
 great comfort to get the passport, and the pocket-book, which 
 must be worth about ninepence. 
 
 There were besides many 
 
 Brussels. 
 
 It was night when we arrived by the railroad from Antwerp 
 
792 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. ^ 
 
 at Brussels ; the route is very pretty and interesting, and the 
 flat countries through which the road passes in the highest 
 state of peaceful, smiling cultivation. The fields by the road- 
 side are enclosed by hedges as in England, the harvest was in 
 part down, and an English country gentleman who was of our 
 party pronounced the crops to be as fine as any he had ever 
 seen. Of this matter a cockney cannot judge accurately, but 
 any man can see with what extraordinary neatness and care all 
 these little plots of ground are tilled, and admire the richness 
 and ""brilliancy of vegetation. Outside of the moat of Antwerp, 
 and at every village by which we passed, it was pleasant to see 
 the happy congregations of well-clad people that basked in the 
 evening sunshine, and soberly smoked their pipes and drank 
 their Flemish beer. Men who love this drink must, as I fancy, 
 have something essentially peaceful in their composition, and 
 must be more easily satisfied than folks on our side of the 
 water. The excitement of Flemish beer is, indeed, not great. 
 I have tried both the white beer and the brown ; they are both 
 of the kind which schoolboys denominate " swipes/' very sour 
 and thin to the taste, but served, to be sure, in quaint Flemish 
 jags that do not seem to have changed their form since the 
 days of Rubens, and must please the lovers of antiquarian 
 knicknacks. Numbers of comfortable-looking women and 
 children sat beside the head of the family upon the tavern- 
 benches, and it was amusing to see one little fellow of eight 
 years old smoking, with much gravity, his father's cigar. How 
 the worship of the sacred plant of tobacco has spread through 
 all Europe ! I am sure that the .persons who cry out against 
 the use of it are guilty of superstition and unreason, and 
 that it would be a proper and easy task for scientific persons to 
 write an encomium upon the weed. In solitude it is the pleas- 
 antest companion possible, and in company never de trop. To 
 a student it suggests all sorts of agreeable thoughts, it re- 
 freshes the brain when weary, and every sedentary cigar-smoker 
 will tell you how much good he has had from it, and how he 
 has been able to return to his labor, after a quarter of an hour's 
 mild interval of the delightful leaf of Havana. Drinking 
 has gone from among us since smoking came in. It is a wicked 
 error to say that smokers are drunkards ; drink they do, but of 
 gentle diluents mostly, for fierce stimulants of wine or strong 
 liquors are abhorrent to the real lover of the Indian weed. 
 Ah ! my Juliana, join not in the vulgar cry that is raised against 
 us. Cigars and cool drinks beget quiet conversations, good- 
 humor, meditation ; not hot blood such as mounts into the 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 793 
 
 head of drinkers of apoplectic port or dangerous claret. In- 
 deed I think so somewhat ; and many improvements of social 
 life and converse must date with the introduction of the pipe. 
 
 We were a dozen tobacco-consumers in the wagon of the 
 train that brought us from Antwerp ; nor did the women of the 
 party (sensible women!) make a single objection to the fumiga- 
 tion. But enough of this ; only let me add, in conclusion, that 
 an excellent Israelitish gentleman, Mr. Hartog of Antwerp, 
 supplies cigars for a penny apiece, such as are not to be pro- 
 cured in London for four times the sum. 
 
 Through smiling corn-fields, then, and by little woods from 
 which rose here and there the quaint peaked towers of some 
 old-fashioned chateaux, our train went smoking along at thirty 
 miles an hour. We caught a glimpse of Mechlin steeple, at 
 first dark against the sunset, and afterwards bright as we came 
 to the other side of it, and admired long glistening canals or 
 moats that surrounded the queer old town, and were lighted 
 up in that wonderful way which the sun only understands, and 
 not even Mr. Turner, with all his vermilion and gamboge, can 
 put down on canvas. The verdure was everywhere astonishing, 
 and we fancied we saw many golden Cuyps as we passed by 
 these quiet pastures. 
 
 Steam-engines and their accompaniments, blazing forges, 
 gaunt manufactories, with numberless windows and long black 
 chimneys, of course take away from the romance of the place ; 
 but, as we whirled into Brussels, even these engines had a fine 
 appearance. Three or four of the snorting, galloping monsters 
 had just finished their journey, and there was a quantity of 
 flaming ashes lying under the brazen bellies of each that looked 
 properly lurid and demoniacal. The men at the station came 
 out with flaming torches — awful-looking fellows indeed ! Pres- 
 ently the different baggage was handed out, and in the very 
 worst vehicle I ever entered, and at the very slowest pace, we 
 were borne to the " Hotel de Suede," from which house of 
 entertainment this letter is written. 
 
 We strolled into the town, but, though the night was exces- 
 sively fine and it was not yet eleven o'clock, the streets of the 
 little capital were deserted, and the handsome blazing cafes 
 round about the theatres contained no inmates. Ah, what a 
 pretty sight is the Parisian Boulevard on a night like this ! how 
 many pleasant hours has one passed in watching the lights, 
 and the hum, and the stir, and the laughter of those happy, 
 idle people ! There was none of this gayety here ; nor was 
 there a person to be found,, except a skulking commissioner or 
 
794 LITTLE TRA VELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 two (whose real name in French is that of a fish that is eaten 
 with fennel-sauce), and who offered to conduct us to certain 
 curiosities in the town. What must we English not have done, 
 that in every town in Europe we are to be fixed upon by scoun- 
 drels of this sort ; and what a pretty reflection it is on our 
 country that such rascals find the means of living on us ! 
 
 Early the next morning we walked through a number of 
 streets in the place, and saw certain sights. The Park is very 
 pretty, and all the buildings round about it have an air of neat- 
 ness — almost of stateliness. The houses are tall, the streets 
 spacious, and the roads extremely clean. In the Park is a little 
 theatre, a cafe somewhat ruinous, a little palace for the king of 
 this little kingdom, some smart public buildings (with S. P. Q. 
 B. emblazoned on them, at which pompous inscription one can- 
 not help laughing), and other rows of houses somewhat resem- 
 bling a little Rue de Rivoli. Whether from my own natural 
 greatness and magnanimity, or from that handsome share of 
 national conceit that every Englishman possesses, my impress- 
 ions of this city are certainly anything but respectful. It has 
 an absurd kind of Lilliput look with it. There are soldiers, 
 just as in Paris, better dressed, and doing a vast deal of drum- 
 ming and bustle ; and yet, somehow, far from being frightened 
 at them, I feel inclined to laugh in their faces. There are 
 little Ministers, who work at their little bureaux ; and to read 
 the journals, how fierce they are ! A great thundering Times 
 could hardly talk more big. One reads about the rascally 
 Ministers, the miserable Opposition, the designs of tyrants, 
 the eyes of Europe, &c, just as one would in real journals. 
 The Moniteur of Ghent belabors the Independefit of Brussels ; 
 the Independent falls foul of the Lynx ; and really it is difficult 
 not to suppose sometimes that these worthy people are in 
 earnest. And yet how happy were they sua si bona nbrint J 
 Think what a comfort it would be to belong to a little state 
 like this ; not to abuse their privilege, but philosophically to 
 use it. If I were a Belgian, I would not care one single fig 
 about politics. I would not read thundering leading articles. 
 I would not have an opinion. What's the use of an opinion 
 here ? Happy fellows ! do not the French, the English, and 
 the Prussians, spare them the trouble of thinking, and make all 
 their opinions for them ? Think of living in a country free, 
 easy, respectable, wealthy, and with the nuisance of talking 
 politics removed from out of it. All this might the Belgians 
 have, and a part do they enjoy, but not the best part ; no, 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 795 
 
 these people will be brawling and by the ears, and parties run 
 as high here as at Stoke Pogis or little Pedlington. 
 
 These sentiments were elicited by the reading of a paper at 
 the cafe in the Park, where we sat under the trees for a while 
 and sipped our cool lemonade. Numbers of statues decorate 
 the place, the very worst I ever saw. These Cupids must have 
 been erected in the time of the Dutch dynasty, as I judge from 
 the immense posterior developments. Indeed the arts of the 
 country are very low. The statues here, and the lions before 
 the Prince of Orange's palace, would disgrace almost the figure- 
 head of a ship. 
 
 Of course we paid our visit to this little lion of Brussels 
 (the Prince's palace, I mean). The architecture of the building 
 is admirably simple and firm ; and you remark about it, and 
 all other works here, a high finish in doors, wood-works, paint- 
 ings, &c, that one does not see in France, where the buildings 
 are often rather sketched than completed, and the artist seems 
 to neglect the limbs, as it were, and extremities of his figures. 
 
 The finish of this little place is exquisite. We went through 
 some dozen of state-rooms, paddling along over the slippery 
 floors of inlaid woods in great slippers, without which we must 
 have come to the ground. How did his Royal Highness the 
 Prince of Orange manage when he lived here, and her Imperial 
 Highness the Princess, and their excellencies the chamberlains 
 and the footmen ? They must have been on their tails many 
 tiirres a day, that's certain, and must have cut queer figures. 
 
 The ballroom is beautiful — all marble, and yet with a com- 
 fortable, cheerful look ; the other apartments are not less 
 agreeable, and the people looked with intense satisfaction at 
 some great lapis-lazuli tables, which the guide informed us 
 were worth four millions, more or less ; adding with a very 
 knowing look, that they were nn peic plus cher que lor. This 
 speech has a tremendous effect on visitors, and when we met 
 some of our steamboat companions in the Park or elsewhere 
 — in so small a place as this one falls in with them a dozen 
 times a day — " Have you seen the tables ? " was the general 
 question. Prodigious tables are they, indeed ! Fancy a table, 
 my dear — a table four feet w r ide — a table with legs. Yh heavens ! 
 the mind can hardly picture to itself anything so beautiful and 
 so tremendous ! 
 
 There are some good pictures in the palace, too, but not so 
 extraordinarily good as the guide-books and the guide would 
 have us to think. The latter, like most men of his class, is an 
 ignoramus, who showed us an Andrea del Sarto (copy oi 
 
 5* 
 
?9 6 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 original), and called it a Correggio, and made other blunders 
 of a like nature. As is the case in England, you are hurried 
 through the rooms without being allowed time to look at the 
 pictures, and, consequently to pronounce a satisfactory judgment 
 on them. 
 
 In the Museum more time was granted me, and I spent 
 some hours with pleasure there. It is an absurd little gallery, 
 absurdly imitating the Louvre, with just such compartments 
 and pillars as you see in the noble Paris gallery ; only here 
 the pillars and capitals are stucco and white in place of mar- 
 ble and gold, and plaster-of-paris busts of great Belgians are 
 placed between the pillars. An artist of the country has made 
 a picture containing them, and you will be ashamed of your 
 ignorance when you hear many of their names. Old Tilly of 
 Magdeburg figures in one corner • Rubens, the endless Rubens, 
 stands in the midst. What a noble countenance it is, and 
 what a manly, swaggering consciousness of power ! 
 
 The picture to see here is a portrait, by the great Peter 
 Paul, of one of the governesses of the Netherlands. It is just 
 the finest portrait that ever was seen. Only a half-length, but 
 such a majesty, such a force, such a splendor, such a simplicity 
 about it ! The woman is in a stiff black dress, with a ruff and 
 a few pearls ; a yellow curtain is behind her — the simplest 
 arrangement that can be conceived ; but this great man knew 
 how to rise to his occasion ; and no better proof can be shown 
 of what a fine gentleman he was than this his homage to the 
 vice-Queen. A common bungler would have painted her in 
 her best clothes, with crown and sceptre, just as our Queen 
 has been painted by — but comparisons are odious. Here 
 stands this majestic woman in her every-day working-dress of 
 black satin, looking your hat off, as it were. Another portrait 
 of the same personage hangs elsewhere in the gallery, and it is 
 curious to observe the difference between the two, and see 
 how a man of genius paints a portrait, and how a common 
 limner executes it. 
 
 Many more pictures are there here by Rubens, or rather 
 from Rubens' manufactory, — odious and vulgar most of them 
 are ; fat Magdalens, coarse Saints, vulgar Virgins, with the 
 scene-painter's tricks far too evident upon the canvas. By the 
 side of one of the most astonishing color-pieces in the world, 
 the " Worshipping of the Magi," is a famous picture of Paul 
 Veronese that cannot be too much admired. As Rubens 
 sought in the first picture to dazzle and astonish by gorgeous 
 . variety, Paul in this seems to wish to get his effect by simpli- 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 797 
 
 city, and has produced the 4 most noble harmony that can be 
 conceived. Many more works are there that merit notice, — a 
 singularly clever, brilliant, and odious Jordaens, for example ; 
 some curious costume-pieces ; one or two works by the Belgian 
 Raphael, who was a very Belgian Raphael indeed ; and a long 
 gallery of the very oldest school, that, doubtless, afford much 
 pleasure to the amateurs of ancient art. I confess that I am 
 inclined to believe in very little that existed before the time of 
 Raphael. There is, for instance, the Prince of Orange's pic- 
 ture by Perugino, very pretty indeed, up to a certain point, but 
 all the heads are repeated, all the drawing is bad and affected ; 
 and this very badness and affectation is what the so-called 
 Catholic school is always anxious to imitate. Nothing can be 
 more juvenile or paltry than the works of the native Belgians 
 here exhibited. Tin crowns are suspended over many of them, 
 showing that the pictures are prize compositions : and pretty 
 things, indeed, they are ! Have you ever read an Oxford 
 prize-poem ? Well, these pictures are worse even than the 
 Oxford poems — an awful assertion to make. 
 
 In the matter of eating, dear sir, which is the next subject 
 of the fine arts, a subject that, after many hours' walking, at- 
 tracts a gentleman very much, let me attempt to recall the 
 transactions of this very day at the table-d'hbte. i, green pea- 
 soup ; 2, boiled salmon ; 3, mussels ; 4, crimped skate ; 5, 
 roast-meat; 6, patties f 7, melon; 8, carp, stewed with mush- 
 rooms and onions; 9, roast-turkey; 10, cauliflower and butter; 
 11, fillets of venison piques, with asafcetida sauce ; 12, stewed 
 calf's-ear; 13, roast-veal; 14, roast-lamb; 15, stewed cherries ; 
 16, rice-pudding; 17, Gruyere cheese, and about twenty-four 
 cakes of different kinds. Except 5, 13, and 14, I give you my 
 word I ate of all written down herewith three rolls of bread 
 and a score of potatoes. What is the meaning of it ? How is 
 the stomach of man brought to desire and to receive all this 
 quantity ? Do not gastronomists complain of heaviness in Lon- 
 don after eating a couple of mutton-chops ? Do not respect- 
 able gentlemen fall asleep in their arm-chairs ? Are they fit 
 for mental labor? Far from it. But look at the difference 
 here : after dinner here one is as light as a gossamer. One 
 walks with pleasure, reads with pleasure, writes with pleasure 
 — nay, there is the supper-bell going at ten o'clock, and plenty 
 of eaters, too. Let lord mayors and aldermen look to it, this 
 fact of the extraordinary increase of appetite in Belgium, and, 
 instead of steaming to Blackwall, come a little further to Ant- 
 werp fc 
 
79 S LITTLF TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 Of ancient architectures in the place, there is a fine old 
 Port de Halle, which has a tall, gloomy, bastile look ; a most 
 magnificent town-hall, that has been sketched a thousand of 
 times, and opposite it, a building that I think would be the very 
 model for a Conservative club-house in London. Oh ! how 
 charming it would be to be a great painter, and give the charac- 
 ter of the building, and the numberless groups round about it. 
 The booths lighted up by the sun, the market-women in their 
 gowns of brilliant hue, each group having a character and tell- 
 ing its little story, the troops of men lolling in all sorts of ad- 
 mirable attitudes of ease round the great lamp. Half a dozen 
 light-blue dragoons are lounging about, and peeping over the 
 artist as the drawing is made, and the sky is more bright and 
 blue than one sees it in a hundred years in London. 
 
 The priests of the country are a remarkably well-fed and 
 respectable race, without that scowling, hang-dog look which 
 one has remarked among reverend gentlemen in the neighbor- 
 ing country of France. Their reverences wear buckles to their 
 shoes, light-blue neckjdoths, and huge three-cornered hats in 
 good condition. To-day, strolling by the cathedral, I heard 
 the tinkling of a bell in the street, and beheld certain persons, 
 male and female, suddenly plump down on their knees before 
 a little procession that was passing. Two men in black held a 
 tawdry red canopy, a priest walked beneath it holding the 
 sacrament covered with a cloth, and before him marched a 
 couple of little altar-boys in short white surplices, such as you 
 see in Rubens, and holding lackered lamps. A small train of 
 street-boys followed the procession, cap in hand, and the clergy- 
 man finally entered a hospital for old women, near the church, 
 the canopy and the lamp-bearers remaining without. 
 
 It was a touching scene, and as I stayed to watch it, I could 
 not but think of the poor old soul who Was dying within, listen- 
 ing to the last words of prayer, led by the hand of the priest to 
 to the brink of the black, fathomless grave. How bright the 
 sun was shining without all the time, and how happy and care- 
 less everything around us looked ! 
 
 The Duke d'Arenberg has a picture-gallery worthy of his 
 princely house. It does not contain great pieces, but tit-bits 
 of pictures, such as suit an aristocratic epicure. For such per- 
 sons a great huge canvas is too much, it is like sitting down 
 alone to a roasted ox ; and they do wisely, I think, to patronize 
 small, high-flavored, delicate morceaux, such as the Duke has 
 here. 
 
FROM RICHMOND TO BRUSSELS. 
 
 799 
 
 Among them may be mentioned, with special praise, a 
 magnificent small Rembrandt, a Paul Potter of exceeding 
 minuteness and beauty, an Ostade, which reminds one of 
 Wilkie's early performances, and a Dusart quite as good as 
 Ostade. There is a Berghem, much more unaffected than that 
 artist's works generally are ; and, what is more precious in the 
 eyes of many ladies as an object of art, there is, in one of the 
 grand saloons, some needlework done by the Duke's own grand- 
 mother, which is looked at with awe by those admitted to see 
 the palace. 
 
 The chief curiosity, if not the chief ornament of a very 
 elegant library, filled with vases and bronzes, is a marble head, 
 supposed to be the original head of the Laocoon. It is, un- 
 questionably, a finer head than that which at present figures 
 upon the shoulders of the famous statue. The expression of 
 woe is more manly and intense ; in the group as we know it, 
 the head of the principal figure has always seemed to me to be 
 a grimace of grief, as are the two accompanying young gentle- 
 men with their pretty attitudes, and their little silly, open- 
 mouthed despondency. It has always had upon me the effect 
 of a trick, that statue, and not of a piece of true art. It would 
 look well in the vista of a garden ; it is not august enough for 
 a temple, with all its jerks, and twirls, and polite convulsions. 
 But who knows what susceptibilities such a confession may 
 offend ? Let us say no more about the Laocoon, nor its head, 
 nor its tail. The Duke was offered its weight in gold, they 
 say, for this head, and refused. It would be a shame to speak 
 ill of such a treasure, but I have my opinion of the man who 
 made the offer. 
 
 In the matter of sculpture almost all the Brussels churches 
 are decorated with the most laborious wooden pulpits, which 
 may be worth their weight in gold, too, for what I know, in- 
 cluding his reverence preaching inside. At St. Gudule the 
 preacher mounts into no less a place than the garden of Eden, 
 being supported by Adam and Eve, by Sin and Death, and 
 numberless other animals ; he walks up to his desk by a rustic 
 railing of flowers, fruits, and vegetables, with wooden peacocks, 
 paroquets, monkeys biting apples, and many more of the birds 
 and beasts of the field. In another church the clergyman 
 speaks from out a hermitage ; in a third from a carved palm- 
 tree, which supports a set of oak clouds that form the canopy 
 of the pulpit, and are, indeed, not much heavier in appearance 
 than so many huge sponges. A priest, however tall or stout, 
 must be lost in the midst of all these queer gimcracks ; in 
 
8oo LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 order to be consistent, they ought to dress him up, too, in some 
 odd fantastical suit. I can fancy the Cure of Meudon preach* 
 ing out of such a place, or the Rev. Sydney Smith, or that 
 famous clergyman of the time of the League, who brought all 
 Paris to laugh and listen to him. 
 
 But let us not be too supercilious and ready to sneer. It is 
 only bad taste. It may have been very true devotion which 
 erected these strange edifices. 
 
 II. — Ghent — Bruges. 
 
 GHENT. (1840.) 
 
 The Beguine College or Village is one of the most extraor- 
 dinary sights that all Europe can show. On the confines of 
 the town of Ghent you come upon an old-fashioned brick gate, 
 that seems as if it were one of the city barriers ; but, on pass- 
 ing it, one of the prettiest sights possible meets the eye : At 
 the porter's lodge you see an old lady, in black and a white 
 hood, occupied over her book ; before you is a red church with 
 a tall roof and fantastical Dutch pinnacles, and all around it 
 rows upon rows of small houses, the queerest, neatest, nicest 
 that ever were seen (a doll's house is hardly smaller or prettier). 
 Right and left, on each side of little alleys, these little man- 
 sions rise ; they have a courtlet before them in which some 
 green plants or hollyhocks are growing ; and to each house is 
 a gate that has mostly a picture or queer-carved ornament upon 
 or about it, and bears the name, not of the Be'guine who in- 
 habits it, but of the saint to whom she may have devoted it — 
 the house of St. Stephen, the house of St. Donatus, the Eng- 
 lish or Angel Convent, and so on. Old ladies in black are 
 pacing in the quiet alleys here and there, and drop the stranger 
 a curtsey as he passes them and takes off his hat. Never were 
 such patterns of neatness seen as these old ladies and their 
 houses. I peeped into one or two of the chambers, of which 
 the windows were open to the pleasant evening sun, and saw 
 beds scrupulously plain, a quaint old chair or two, and little 
 pictures of favorite saints decorating the spotless white walls. 
 The old ladies kept up a quick, cheerful clatter, as they paused 
 to gossip at the gates of their little domiciles ■ and with a 
 
GHENT. 801 
 
 x 
 
 great deal of artifice, and lurking behind walls, and looking at 
 the church as if I intended to design that, I managed to get a 
 sketch of a couple of them. 
 
 But what white paper can render the whiteness of their 
 linen ; what black ink can do justice to the lustre of their 
 gowns and shoes ? Both of the ladies had a neat ankle and a 
 . tight stocking ; and I fancy that heaven is quite as well served 
 in this costume as in the dress of a scowling^stockingless friar, 
 whom I had seen passing just before. The look and dress of 
 the man made me shudder. His great red feet were bound up 
 in a shoe open at the toes, a kind of compromise for a sandal. 
 I had just seen him and his brethren at the Dominican Church, 
 where a mass of music was sung, and orange-trees, flags, and 
 banners decked the aisles of the church. 
 
 One begins to grow sick of these churches, and the hideous 
 exhibitions of bodily agonies that are depicted on the sides of 
 all the chapels. Into one wherein we went this morning was 
 what they called a Calvary : a horrible ghastly image of a 
 Christ in a tomb, the figure^ of the natural size, and of the 
 livid color of death ; gaping red wounds on the body and round 
 the brows : the whole piece enough to turn one sick, and fit 
 only to brutalize the beholder of it. The Virgin is commonly 
 represented with a dozen swords stuck in her heart ; bleeding 
 throats of headless John Baptists are perpetually thrust before 
 your eyes. At the Cathedral gate was a papier-mache church- 
 ornament shop — most of the carvings and reliefs of the same 
 dismal character : One, for instance, represented a heart with 
 a great gash in it, and a double row of large blood-drops drib- 
 bling from it ; nails and a knife were thrust into the heart ; 
 round the whole was a crown of thorns. Such things are 
 dreadful to think of. The same gloomy spirit which made a 
 religion of them, and worked upon the people by the grossest 
 of all means, terror, distracted the natural feelings of man to 
 maintain its power — shut gentle women into lonely, pitiless 
 convents — frightened poor peasants with tales of torment — 
 taught that the end and labor of life was silence, wretchedness, 
 and the scourge — murdered those by fire and prison who 
 thought otherwise. How has the blind and furious bigotry of 
 man perverted that which God gave us as our greatest boon, 
 and bid us hate where God bade us love ! Thank heaven that 
 monk has gone out of sight ! It is pleasant to look at the 
 smiling, cheerful old Beguine and think no more of yonder 
 livid face. 
 
8o2 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 One of the many convents in this little religious city seem > 
 to be the specimen-house, which is shown to strangers, for all 
 the guides conduct you hither, and I saw in a book kept for 
 the purpose the names of innumerable Smiths and Joneses 
 registered. 
 
 A very kind, sweet-voiced, smiling nun (I wonder, do they 
 always choose the most agreeable and best-humored sister of 
 the house to show it to strangers ?) came tripping down the 
 steps and across the flags of the little garden-court, and wel- 
 comed us with much courtesy into the neat little old-fashioned, 
 red-bricked, gable-ended, shining-windowed Convent of the 
 Angels. First she showed us a whitewashed parlor, decorated 
 with a grim picture or two and some crucifixes and other relig- 
 ious emblems, where, upon stiff old chairs, the sisters sit and 
 work. Three or four of them were still there, pattering over 
 their laces and bobbins ; but the chief part of the sisterhood 
 were engaged in an apartment hard by, from which issued a 
 certain odor which I must say resembled onions : it was in 
 fact the kitchen of the establishment. 
 
 Every Beguine cooks her own little dinner in her own little 
 pipkin ; and there was half a score of them, sure enough, busy 
 over their pots and crockery, cooking a repast which, when 
 ready, was carried off to a neighboring room, the refectory, 
 where, at a ledge-table which is drawn out from under her 
 own particular cupboard, each nun sits down and eats her 
 meal in silence. More religious emblems ornamented the 
 carved cupboard doors, and within, everything was as neat 
 as neat could be : shining pewter ewers and glasses, snug 
 baskets of eggs and pats of butter, and little bowls with about 
 a farthing's-worth of green tea in them — for some great day of 
 fete, doubtless. The old ladies sat round as we examined these 
 things, each eating soberly at her ledge and never looking 
 round. There was a bell ringing in the chapel hard by. 
 " Hark ! " said our guide, u that is one of the sisters dying, 
 Will you come and see the cells ? " 
 
 The cells, it need not be said, are the snuggest little nests 
 in the world, with serge-curtained beds and snowy linen, and 
 saints and martyrs pinned against the wall. " We may sit up 
 till twelve o'clock, if we like," said the nun ; " but we have no 
 fire and candle, and so what's the use of sitting up ? When 
 we have said our prayers we are glad enough to go to sleep." 
 
 I forget, although the good soul told us, how many times 
 in the day, in public and in private, these devotions are made, 
 but fancy that the morning service in the chapel takes place at 
 
GHENT. 803 
 
 too early an hour for most easy travellers. We did not fail to 
 attend in the evening, when likewise is a general muster of the 
 sevexi hundred, minus the absent and sick, and the" sight is not 
 a little striking to a stranger. 
 
 The chapel is a very big whitewashed place of worship, 
 supported by half a dozen columns on either side, over each of 
 which starrtls the statue of an Apostle, with his emblem of 
 martyrdom. Nobody was as yet at the distant altar, which was 
 too far off to see very distinctly ; but I could perceive two 
 statues over it, one of which (St. Lawrence, no doubt) was 
 leaning upon a huge gilt gridiron that the sun lighted up in a 
 blaze — a painful but not a romantic instrument of death. A 
 couple of old ladies in white hoods were tugging and swaying 
 about at two bell-ropes that came down in the middle of the 
 church, and at least five hundred others i'n white veils were 
 seated all round about us in mute contemplation until the ser- 
 vice began, looking very solemn, and white, and ghastly, like 
 an army of tombstones by moonlight. 
 
 The service commenced as the clock finished striking seven : 
 the organ pealed out, a very cracked and old one, and presently 
 some weak old voice from the choir overhead quavered out a 
 canticle ; which done, a thin old voice of a priest at the altar 
 far off (and which had now become quite gloomy in the sunset) 
 chanted feebly another part of the service ; then the nuns 
 warbled once more overhead ; and it was curious to hear, in 
 the intervals of the most lugubrious chants, how the organ 
 w r ent off with some extremely cheerful military or profane air. 
 At one time was a march, at another a quick tune \ which ceas- 
 ing, the old nuns began again, and. so sung until the service w r as 
 ended. 
 
 In the midst of it one of the white-veiled sisters approached 
 us with a very mysterious air, and put down her w r hite veil 
 close to our ears and whispered. Were we doing anything 
 wrong, I wondered ? Were they come to that part of the ser- 
 vice where heretics and infidels ought to quit the church ? 
 What have you to ask, O sacred white-veiled maid ? 
 
 All she said was, " Deux centiemes pour les suisses," which 
 sum was paid ; and presently the old ladies, rising from their 
 chairs one by one, came in face of the altar, where they knelt 
 down and said a short prayer : then, rising, unpinned their 
 veils, and folded them up exactly in the same folds and fashion, 
 and laid them square like napkins on their heads, and tucked 
 up their long black outer dresses, and trudged off to their con- 
 vents. 
 
8o4 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES, 
 • 
 
 The novices wear black veils, under one of which I saw a 
 young, sad, handsome face ; it was the only thing in the estate 
 lishment that was the least romantic or gloomy : and, for the 
 sake of any reader of a sentimental turn, let us hope that the 
 poor soul has been crossed in love, and that over some soul- 
 stirring tragedy that black curtain has fallen. 
 
 Ghent has, I believe, been called a vulgar Venice. It con- 
 tains dirty canals and old houses that must satisfy the most 
 eager antiquary, though the buildings are not quite in so good 
 preservation as others that may be seen in the Netherlands. 
 The commercial bustle of the place seems considerable, and it 
 contains more beer-shops than any city I ever saw. 
 
 These beer-shops seem the only amusements of the inhab- 
 itants, until, at least, the theatre shall be built, of which the 
 elevation is now complete, a very handsome and extensive pile. 
 There are beer-shops in the cellars of the houses, which are 
 frequented, it is to be presumed, by the lower sort ; there are 
 beer-shops at the barriers, where the citizens and their families 
 repair ; and beer-shops in the town, glaring with gas, with long 
 gauze blinds, however, to hide what I hear is a rather question- 
 able reputation. 
 
 Our inn, the " Hotel oi the Post," a spacious and comfort- 
 able residence, is on a little place planted round with trees, 
 and that seems to be the Palais Royal of the town. Three 
 clubs, which look from without to be very comfortable, orna- 
 ment this square with their gas lamps. Here stands, too, the 
 theatre that is to be ; there is a cafe, and on evenings a mili- 
 tary band plays the very worst music I ever remember to have 
 heard. I went out to-night to take a quiet walk upon this 
 place, and the horrid brazen discord of these trumpeters set me 
 half mad. 
 
 I went to the cafe for refuge, passing on the way a subter- 
 raneous beer-shop, where men and women were drinking to the 
 sweet music of a cracked barrel-organ. They take in a couple 
 of French papers at this cafe, and the same number of Belgian 
 journals. You may imagine how well the latter are informed, 
 when you hear that the battle of Boulogne, fought by the im- 
 mortal Louis Napoleon, was not known here until some gen- 
 cleman out of Norfolk brought the news from London, and un- 
 til it had travelled to Paris, and from Paris to Brussels. For 
 a whole hour I could not get a newspaper at the cafe. The 
 horrible brass band in the meantime had quitted the place, and 
 now, to amuse the Ghent citizens, a couple of little boys came 
 to the cafe and set up a small concert : one played ill on the 
 
 v. 
 
GHENT. 
 
 guitar, but sang, very sweetly,.plaintive French ballads ; the 
 other was the comic singer ; he carried about with him a queer, 
 long, clamp-looking, mouldy white hat, with no brim. * Ecoutez," 
 said the waiter to me, " il va faire r Anglais ; e'est tres drole I " 
 The little rogue mounted his immense brimless hat, and, thrust- 
 ing his thumbs into the armholes of his waistcoat, began to 
 faire l' Anglais, with a song in which swearing was the principal 
 joke. We all laughed at this, and indeed the little rascal seemed 
 to have a good deal of humor. 
 
 How they hate us, these foreigners, in Belgium as much as 
 in France ! What lies they tell of us ; how gladly they would 
 see us humiliated ! Honest folks at home over their port-wine 
 say, " Ay, ay, and very good reason they have too. National 
 vanity, sir, wounded — we have beaten them so often. " My 
 dear sir, there is not a greater error in the world than this. 
 They hate you because you are stupid, hard to please, and in- 
 tolerably insolent and air-giving. I walked with an English- 
 man yesterday, who asked the way to a street of which he 
 pronounced the name very badly to a little Flemish boy : the 
 Flemish boy did not answer ; and there was my Englishman 
 quite in a rage, shrieking in the child's ear as if he must 
 answer. He seemed to think that it was the duty of " the 
 snob," as he called him, to obey the gentleman. This is why 
 we are hated — for pride. In our free country a tradesman, a 
 lackey, or a waiter will submit to almost any given insult from 
 a gentleman : in those benighted lands one man is as good as 
 another ; and pray God it may soon be so with us ! Of all 
 European people, which is the nation that has the most haugh- 
 tiness, the strongest prejudices, the greatest reserve, the great- 
 est dulness ? I say an Englishman of the genteel classes. An 
 honest groom jokes and hobs-and-nobs and makes his way with 
 the kitchen-maids, for there is good social nature in the man ; 
 his master dare not unbend. Look at him, how he scowls at 
 you on your entering an inn-room ; think how you scowl your- 
 self to meet his scowl. To-day, as we were walking and star- 
 ing about the place, a worthy old gentleman in a carriage, 
 seeing a pair of strangers, took off his hat and bowed very 
 gravely with his old powdered head out of the window : I am 
 sorry to say that our first impulse was to burst out laughing — 
 it seemed so supremely ridiculous that a stranger should notice 
 .and welcome another. 
 
 As for the notion that foreigners hate us because we have 
 beaten them so often, my dear sir, this is the greatest error in 
 the world ; well-educated Frenchmen do not believe that we 
 
8o6 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 have beaten them. A man was* once ready to call me out in 
 Paris because I said that we had beaten the French in Spain; 
 and here before me is a French paper, with a London corre- 
 spondent discoursing about Louis Bonaparte and his jackass 
 expedition to Boulogne. " He was received at Eglintoun, it is 
 true," says the correspondent, " but what do you think was the 
 reason ? Because the English nobility were anxious to revenge 
 upon his person (with some coups dc lance) the checks which the 
 4 grand homnte' his uncle had inflicted on us in Spain." 
 
 This opinion is so general among the French, that they 
 would laugh at you with scornful incredulity if you ventured to 
 assert any other. Foy's history of the Spanish War does not, 
 unluckily, go far enough. I have read a French history which 
 hardly mentions the war in Spain, and calls the battle of Sala- 
 manca a French victory. You know how the other day, and 
 in the teeth of all evidence, the French swore to their victory 
 of Toulouse : and so it is with the rest ; and you may set it 
 down as pretty certain, ist, That only a few people know the 
 real state of things in France, as to the matter in dispute be- 
 tween us ; 2d, That those who do, keep the truth to them- 
 selves, and so it is as if it had never been. 
 
 These Belgians have caught up, and quite naturally, the 
 French tone. We are perfide Albion with them still. Here is 
 the Ghent paper, which declares that it is beyond a doubt that 
 Louis Napoleon was sent by the English and Lord Palmerston ; 
 and though it states in another part of the journal (from Eng- 
 lish authority) that the Prince had never seen Lord Palmer- 
 ston, yet the lie will remain uppermost — the people and the 
 editor will believe it to the end of time. * * * See to what 
 a digression yonder little fellow in the tall hat has given rise ! 
 Let us make his picture, and have done with him. 
 
 I could not understand, in my walks about this place, 
 which is certainly picturesque enough, and contains extraordi- 
 nary charms in the shape of old gables, ouaint spires, and 
 broad shining canals — I could not at first comprehend why, for 
 all this, the town was especially disagreeable to me, and have 
 only just hit on the reason why. Sweetest Juliana, you will 
 never guess it : it is simply this, that I have not seen a single 
 decent-looking woman in the whole place ; they look all ugly, 
 with coarse mouths, vulgar figures, mean mercantile faces*; 
 and so the traveller walking among them finds the pleasure of 
 his walk excessively damped, and the impressions made upon 
 him disagreeable. 
 
 ♦ 
 
BRUGES. 807 
 
 In the Academy there are no pictures of merit ; but some- 
 times a second-rate picture is as pleasing as the best, and one 
 may pass an hour here very pleasantly. There is a room ap- 
 propriated to Belgian artists, of which I never saw the like : 
 they are, like all the rest of the things in this country, miser- 
 able imitations of the French school — great rude Venuses, and 
 Junos a la David, with the drawing left out. 
 
 BRUGES. 
 
 The change from vulgar Ghent, with its ugly women and 
 coarse bustle, to this quiet, old, half-deserted, cleanly Bruges, 
 was very pleasant. I have seen old men at Versailles, with 
 shabby coats and pigtails, sunning themselves on the benches 
 in the walls ; they had seen better days, to be sure, but they 
 were gentlemen still : and so we found, this morning, old 
 dowager Bruges basking in the pleasant August sun, and look- 
 ing if not prosperous, at least cheerful and well-bred. It is the 
 quaintest and prettiest of all the quaint and pretty towns I 
 have "seen. A painter might spend months here, and wander 
 from church to church, and admire old towers and pinnacles, 
 tall gables, bright canals, and pretty little patches of green 
 garden and moss-grown wall, that reflect in the clear quiet 
 water. Before the inn-window is a garden, from which in the 
 early morning issues a most wonderful odor of stocks and wall- 
 flowers ; next comes a road with trees of admirable green ; 
 numbers of little children are playing in this road (the place is 
 so clean that they may roll in it all day without soiling their 
 pinafores), and on the other side of the trees are little old- 
 fashioned, dumpy, whitewashed, red-tiled houses. A poorer 
 landscape to draw never was known, nor a pleasanter to see — 
 the children especially, who are inordinately fat and rosy. Let 
 it be remembered, too, that here we are out of the country of 
 ugly women : \he expression of the face is almost uniformly 
 gentle and pleasing, and the figures of the women, wrapped in 
 long black monklike cloaks and hoods, very picturesque. No 
 wonder there are so many children : the " Guide-book " (omnis- 
 cient Mr. Murray !) says there are fifteen thousand paupers in 
 in the town, and we know how such multiply. How the deuce 
 do their children look so fat and rosy ? By eating dirt-pies, 
 I suppose. I saw a couple making a very nice savory one, 
 and another employed in gravely sticking strips of stick be- 
 twixt the pebbles at the house door, and so making for her- 
 
808 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 self a stately garden. The men and women don't seem to 
 
 have much more to do. There are a couple of tall chimneys 
 at either suburb of the town, where no doubt manufactories ai2 
 at work, but within the walls everybody seems decently idle. 
 
 We have been, of course, abroad to visit the lions. TL2 
 tower in the Grand Place is very fine, and the bricks of which 
 it is built do not yield a whit in color to the best stone. The 
 great building round this tower is very like the pictures of the 
 Ducal Palace at Venice ; and there is a long market area, with 
 columns^down the middle, from which hung shreds of rather 
 lean-looking meat, that would do wonders under the hands of 
 Cattermole or Haghe. In the tower there is a chime of bells 
 that keep ringing perpetually. They not only play tunes of 
 themselves, and every quarter of an hour, but an individual 
 performs selections from popular operas on them at certain 
 periods of the morning, afternoon, and evening. I have heard 
 to-day " Suoni la Tromba," " Son Vergin Vezzosa," from the 
 " Puritani," and other airs, and very badly they were played 
 too • for such a great monster as a tower-bell cannot be expected 
 to imitate Madame Grisi or even Sis-nor Lablache. Other 
 churches indulge in the same amusement, so that one may come 
 here and live in melody all day or night, like the young woman 
 in Moore's " Lalla Rookh." 
 
 In the matter of art, the chief attractions of Bruges are the 
 pictures of Hemling, that are to be seen in the churches, the 
 hospital, and the picture-gallery of the place. There are no 
 more pictures of Rubens to be seen, and, indeed, in the course 
 of a fortnight, one has had quite enough of the great man and 
 his magnificent, swaggering canvases. What a difference is 
 here with simple Hemling and the extraordinary creations of 
 his pencil ! The hospital is particularly rich in them ; and the 
 legend there is that the painter, who had served Charles the 
 Bold in his war against the Swiss, and his last battle and defeat, 
 wandered back wounded and penniless to Bruges, and here 
 found cure and shelter. 
 
 This hospital is a noble and curious sight. " The great hall 
 is almost as it-was in the twelfth century; it is spanned by 
 Saxon arches, and lighted by a multiplicity of Gothic windows 
 of all sizes ; it is very lofty, clean, and perfectly well ventilated ; 
 a screen runs across the middle of the room, to divide the male 
 from the female patients, and we were taken to examine each 
 ward, w r hen the poor people seemed happier than possibly they 
 would have been in health and starvation without it. Great 
 yellow blankets were on the iron beds, the linen was scrupu- 
 
BRUGES. 
 
 lously clean, glittering pewter jugs and goblets stood by the 
 side of each patient, and they were provided with godly books 
 (to judge from the binding), in which several were reading at 
 leisure. Honest old comfortable nuns, in queer dresses of blue, 
 black, white, and flannel, were bustling through the room, at- 
 tending to the wants of the sick. I saw about a dozen of these 
 kind "women's faces ; one was young — all were healthy and 
 cheerful. One came with bare blue arms and a great pile of 
 linen from an outhouse — such a grange as Cedric the S?xon 
 might have given to a guest for the night. A couple were in a 
 laboratory, a tall, bright, clean room, 500 years old at least. 
 "We saw you were not very religious,'' said one of the old 
 ladies, with a red, wrinkled, good-humored face, " by your be- 
 havior yesterday in chapel." And yet we did not^laugh and 
 talk as we used at college, but were profoundly affected by the 
 scene that we saw there. It was a fete day : a Mass of Mozart 
 was sung in the evening — not well sung, and yet so exquisitely 
 tender and melodious, that it brought tears into our eyes. 
 There were not above twenty people in the church : all, save 
 three or four, were women in long black cloaks. I took them 
 for nuns at first. They were, however, the common people of 
 the town, very poor indeed, doubtless, for the priest's box that 
 was brought round was not added to by most of them, and 
 their contributions were but two-cent pieces, — five of these go 
 to a penny ; but we know the value of such, and can tell the 
 exact worth of a poor woman's mite ! The box-bearer did not 
 seem at first willing to accept our donation — we were strangers 
 and heretics ; however, I held out my hand, and he came per- 
 force as it were. Indeed it had only a franc in it : but que 
 voidez-vous ? I had been drinking a bottle of Rhine wine that 
 day, and how was I to afford more ? The Rhine wine is dear 
 in this country, and costs four francs a bottle. 
 
 Well, the service proceeded. Twenty poor women, two 
 Englishmen, four ragged beggars, cowering on the steps ; and 
 there was the priest at the altar, in a great robe of gold and 
 damask, two little boys in white surplices serving him, holding 
 his robe as he rose and bowed, and the money-gatherer swing- 
 ing his censer, and filling the little chapel with smoke. The 
 music pealed with wonderful sweetness ; you could see the prim 
 white heads of the nuns in their gallery. The evening light 
 streamed down upon old statues of saints and carved brown 
 stalls, and lighted up the head of the golden-haired Magdalen 
 in a picture of the entombment of Christ. Over the gallery, 
 and, as it were, a kind protectress to the poor below, stood the 
 statue of the Virgin. 
 
Sio LITTLE TRAVELS AXD ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 III. — Waterlc EX 
 
 It is, my dear, the happy privilege of your sex in England 
 to quit the dinner-table after the wine-bottles have once or 
 twice gone round it, and vou are thereby saved (though, to be 
 sure, I can't tell what the ladies do up stairs) you are saved two 
 or three hours' excessive duiness, which the men are obliged to 
 go through. 
 
 I ask any gentleman who reads this — the letters to my 
 Juliana being written with an eye to publication — to remember 
 especiallythow many times, how many hundred times, how 
 many thousand times, in his hearing, the battle of Waterloo has 
 been discussed after dinner, and to call to mind how cruelly he 
 has been bored by the discussion. 11 Ah, it was lucky for us that 
 the Prussians came up ! " " Hang the Prussians l n (or, perhaps, 
 something stronger than "the Prussians!") says a stout old 
 major on half-pay. " We beat the French without them, sir, as 
 beaten them we always have ! We were thundering down the hill 
 of Belle Alliance, sir, at the backs of them, and the French were 
 crying 1 Sauve qui peut ' long before the Prussians ever touched 
 them ! M And so the battle opens, and for many mortal hours, 
 amid rounds of claret, rages over and over again. 
 
 I thought to myself, considering the above things, what a 
 fine thins it will be in after-davs to say that I have been to 
 Brussels and never seen the held of Waterloo ; indeed, that I 
 am such a philosopher as not to care a hg about the battle — 
 nay, to regret, rather, that when Xapoleon came back, the Brit- 
 ish Government had not spared their men and left him alone. 
 
 But this pitch of philosophy was unattainable. This morn- 
 ing, after having seen the Park, the fashionable boulevard, the 
 pictures, the cafe's — having sipped, I say, the sweets of every 
 flower that grows in this paradise of Brussels, quite weary of 
 the place, we mounted on a Xamur diligence, and jingled of! 
 at four miles an hour for Waterloo. 
 
 The road is very neat and agreeable : the Forest of Soig- 
 nies here and there interposes pleasantly, to give your vehicle 
 a shade \ the country, as usual, is vastly fertile and well culti- 
 vated. A farmer and the conducteur were my companions in 
 the imperial, and. could I have understood their conversation, 
 my dear, you should have had certainly a report of it. The 
 jargon which they talked was, indeed, most queer and puzzling 
 
WA TERLOO. 
 
 8n 
 
 — French, I believe, strangly hashed up and pronounced, for hero 
 and there one could catch a few words of it. Now and anon, 
 however, they condescended to speak in the purest French they 
 could muster ; and, indeed, nothing is more curious than to 
 hear the French of the country. Ygu can't understand why all 
 the people insist upon speaking it so badly. I asked the con- 
 ductor if he had been at the battle ; he burst out laughing like 
 a philosopher, as he was, and said, " Pas si bete." I asked 
 the farmer whether his contributions were lighter now than in 
 King William's time, and lighter than those in the time of the 
 Emperor? He vowed that in war-time he had not more to pay 
 than in time of peace (and this strange fact is vouched for by 
 every person of every nation), and being asked wherefore the 
 King of Holland had been ousted from his throne, replied at 
 once, " Parceque c'etoit un voleur : " for which accusation I 
 believe there is some show of reason, his Majesty having laid 
 hands on much Belgian property before the lamented outbreak 
 which cost him his crown. A vast deal of laughing and roar- 
 ing passed between these two worldly people and the postilion, 
 whom they called "baron," and I thought no doubt this talk 
 was one of the many jokes that my companions were in the 
 habit of making. But not so : the postilion was an actual baron, 
 the bearer of an ancient name, the descendant of gallant gentle- 
 men. Good heavens ! what would Mrs. Trollope say to see 
 his lordship here ? His father the old baron had dissipated the 
 family fortune, and here was this young nobleman, at about 
 five-and-forty, compelled to bestride a clattering Flemish stal- 
 lion, and bump over dusty pavements at the rate of five miles 
 an hour. But see the beauty of high blood : with a calm grace 
 the man of family accommodates himself to fortune. Far from 
 being cast down, his lordship met his fate like a man : he 
 swore and laughed the whole of the journey, and as we changed 
 horses, condescended to partake of half a pint of Louvain beer; 
 to which the farmer treated him — indeed the worthy rustic 
 treated me to a glass too. 
 
 Much delight and instruction have I had in the course of 
 the journey from my guide, philosopher, and friend, the author 
 of " Murray's Handbook." He has gathered together, indeed, 
 a store of information, and must, to make his single volume, 
 have gutted many hundreds of guide-books. How the Con- 
 tinental ciceroni must hate him, whoever he is ! Every English 
 party I saw had this infallible red book in their hands, and 
 gained a vast deal of historical and general information from it. 
 Thus I heard, in confidence, many remarkable anecdotes of 
 
 52 
 
8 fa LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROADSIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 Charles V., the Duke of Alva, Count Egmont, all of which I 
 had before perceived, with much satisfaction, not only in the 
 " Handbook," but even in other works. 
 
 The Laureate is among the English poets evidently the 
 great favorite of our guide : the choice does honor to his head 
 and heart. A man must have a very strong bent for poetry, 
 indeed, who carries Southey's works in his portmanteau, and 
 quotes them in proper time and occasion. Of course at Water- 
 loo a spirit like our guide's cannot fail to be deeply moved, and 
 to turn to his favorite poet for sympathy. Hark how the 
 laureated bard sings about the tombstones at Waterloo : — 
 
 ii That temple to our hearts was hallow' d now, 
 
 For many a wounded Briton there was laid, 
 With such for help as time might then allow, 
 
 From the fresh carnage of the field conveyed. 
 And they whom human succor could not save, 
 
 Here, in his precincts, found a hasty grave. 
 And here, on marble tablets, set on high, 
 
 In English lines by foreign workmen traced, 
 The names familiar to an English eye, 
 
 Their brethren here the fit memorial placed ; 
 Whose unadorned inscriptions briefly tell 
 
 Their gallant comrades' rank, and where they fell. 
 The stateliest monument of human pride, 
 
 Enriched with all magnificence of art, 
 To honor chieftains who in victory died, 
 
 Would wake no stronger feeling in the heart 
 Than these plain tablets by the soldier's hand 
 
 Raised to his comrades in a foreign land.'* 
 
 There are lines for you ! wonderful for justice, rich in thought 
 and novel ideas. The passage concerning their gallant com- 
 rades 7 rank should be specially remarked. There indeed they 
 lie, sure enough : the Honorable Colonel This of the Guards, 
 Captain That of the Hussars, Major So-and-So of the Dragoons, 
 brave men and good, who did their duty by their country on 
 that day, and died in the performance of it. 
 
 Amen. But I confess fairly, that in looking at these tab- 
 lets, I felt very much disappointed at not seeing the names of 
 the men as well as the officers. Are they to be counted for 
 nought ? A few more inches of marble to each monument 
 would have given space for all the names of the men ; and the 
 men of that day were the winners of the battle. We have a 
 right to be as grateful individually to any given private as to 
 any given officer ; their duties were very much the same. Why 
 should the country reserve its gratitude - for the genteel occu- 
 piers of the army-list, and forget the gallant fellows whose 
 humble names were written in the regimental books ? In read- 
 ing of the Wellington wars, and the conduct of the men en- 
 gaged in them, I don't know whether to respect them or to 
 
WATERLOO* 813 
 
 wonder at them most. They have death, wounds, and poverty 
 in contemplation ; in possession, poverty, hard labor, hard fare, 
 and small thanks. If they do wrong, they are handed over to 
 the inevitable provost-marshal ; if they are heroes, heroes they 
 may be, but they remain privates still, handling the old brown 
 bess, starving on the old twopence a day. They grow gray in 
 battle and victory, and after thirty years of bloody service, a 
 young gentleman of fifteen, fresh from a preparatory school, 
 who can scarcely read, and came but yesterday with a pinafore 
 into papa's dessert — such a young gentleman, I say, arrives in 
 a spick-and-span red coat, and calmly takes the command over 
 our veteran, who obeys him as if God and nature had ordained 
 that so throughout time it should be. 
 
 That privates should obey, and that they should be smartly 
 punished if they disobey, this one can understand very well. 
 But to say obey forever and ever — to say that private John 
 Styles is, by some physical disproportion, hopelessly inferior 
 to Cornet Snooks — to say that Snooks shall have honors, 
 epaulets, and a marble tablet if he dies, and that Styles shall 
 fight his fight, and have his twopence a day, and when shot 
 down shall be shovelled into a hole with other Styleses, and so 
 forgotten ; and to think that we had in the course of the last 
 war some 400,000 of these Styleses, and some 10,000, say, of 
 the Snooks sort — Styles being by nature exactly as honest, 
 _ clever, and brave as Snooks — and to think that the 400,000 
 should bear this is the w r onder ! 
 
 Suppose Snooks makes a speech. " Look at these French- 
 men, British soldiers," says he, " and remember who they are. 
 Two-and-twenty years since they hurled their King from his 
 throne, and murdered him " (groans). "They flung out of their 
 country their ancient and famous nobility — they published the 
 audacious doctrine of equality — they made a cadet of artillery, 
 a beggarly lawyer's son, into an Emperor, and took ignoramuses 
 from the ranks — drummers and privates, by Jove ! — of whom 
 they made kings, generals, and marshals ! Is this to be borne ?" 
 (Cries of " No ! no ! ") " Upon them, my boys ! down with 
 these godless revolutionists, and rally round the British lion ! " 
 
 So saying, Ensign Snooks (whose flag, which he can't carry, 
 is held by a huge grizzly color-sergeant,) draws a little sword, 
 and pipes out a feeble huzza. The men of his company, roar- 
 ing curses at the Frenchmen, prepare to receive and repel a 
 thundering charge of French cuirassiers. The men fight, and 
 Snooks is knighted because the men fought so well. 
 
 But live or die, win or lose, what do they get f English 
 
8i 4 LITTLE TRAVELS AND ROAD-SIDE SKETCHES. 
 
 glory is too genteel to meddle with those humble fellows. She 
 does not condescend to ask the names of the poor devils whom 
 she kills in her service. Why was not every private man's 
 name written upon the stones in Waterloo Church as well as 
 every officer's ? Five hundred pounds to the stone-cutters 
 would have served to carve the whole catalogue, and paid the 
 poor compliment of recognition to men who died in doing their 
 duty. If the officers deserved a stone, the men did. But come, 
 let us away and drop a tear over the Marquis of Anglesea's 
 leg! 
 
 As for Waterloo, has it not been talked of enough after 
 dinner ? Here are some oats that were plucked before Hou- 
 goumont, where grow not only oats, but flourishing crops of 
 grape-shot, bayonets, and legion-of-honor crosses, in amazing 
 profusion. 
 
 Well, though. I made a vow not to talk about Waterloo 
 either here or after dinner, there is one little secret admission 
 that one must make after seeing it. Let an Englishman go 
 and see that field, and he never forgets it. The sight is an 
 event in his life • and, though it has been seen by millions of 
 peaceable gents — grocers from Bond Street, meek attorneys 
 from Chancery Lane, and timid tailors from Piccadilly — I will 
 wager that there is not one of them but feels a glow as he looks 
 at the place, and remembers that he, too, is an Englishman. 
 
 It is a wrong, egotistical, savage, unchristian feeling, and 
 that's the truth of it. A man of peace has no right to be daz- m 
 zled by that red-coated glory, and to intoxicate his vanity with 
 those remembrances of carnage and triumph. The same sen- 
 tence which tells us that on earth there ought to be peace and 
 good-will amongst men, tells us to whom glory belongs. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 i