' 
 
 
 
 
 j 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 
 
 MONTAGU 
 
 AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 

 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 OP 
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 WITH A PEEFACE BY 
 
 R, SHELTON MACKENZIE, LL.D. 
 
 LITEllABY EDITOB UF THE " PHILADELPHIA PBE68." 
 
 " The Autobiography of Edward Worthy Montagu it the most remarkable book that 
 hat been given to the public for many years. The author was the only ton of Lady 
 Mary Wortley Montagu, whose career was, perhaps, one of the most extraordinary of any 
 woman in the annals of England during the last two hundred years. The autobiogra- 
 phy introduces kings and princes, politicians and poets, men of law and men of letters. 
 In fact, it gives life-like portraits of dead men and women, among whom will be found 
 George the Second Frederick Prince of Wales Lady Mary Wortley Montagu Sarah, 
 Duchess of Marlborough The Earl of Chesterfield Walpole Fielding Colley Gibber 
 Pnpe, whose absurd love adventure with Lady Mary is described at length Howard, Earl 
 of Suffolk Savage Lord Lyttelton Bully Rooke Lord Scarborough Molly Segrave 
 The Duchess of Manchester Dr. Young Lady Vane Lord Patmore and his wife, the 
 Duchess of Leeds Kitty Hyde, afterward the Duchess of Queensberry Lady Betty Moly- 
 neux Lady Fanny Shirley Windham Pulteny Lady Bolingbroke Dodington Lady 
 Archibald Hamilton iStr Wittiam Yonge Tom Warrington Hogarth Cangreve Gay 
 Prior Fox, afterward the celebrated Lord Holland Lord Hervey The Duke of 
 Kingston Bishop Burnett Sir Richard Steele Lady Bella Bentinck The profligate 
 Duke of Wharton, etc., etc." LONDON EVENING POST. 
 
 * .". 
 
 >'. ** ' 
 
 '" t " i 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 T. B. PETERSON & BROTHERS; 
 
 306 CHESTNUT STREET.
 
 DA 
 501 
 
 EDITOR'S PEEFACE. 
 
 THE life of Edward Wortley Montagu, related in 
 the autobiographical form which gives so much reality 
 to a narrative, is more romantic in its incidents 
 many of which are historical than most of the sen- 
 sational novels of the present day. His father, who 
 was successively a member of the British ministry, 
 early in the reign of George I., and Ambassador to 
 Turkey, was a man of considerable learning, and the 
 personal friend of Swift, Steele, Addison, Congreve, 
 and Garth. His mother, equally distinguished for 
 beauty and talent, was eldest daughter of the Duke 
 of Kingston, and takes rank by her ability, accom- 
 plishments and celebrity, among the most eminent 
 women that England can boast of. She was the first 
 European lady who was ever allowed to visit the 
 Seraglio of the Sublime Porte, in Constantinople, and 
 the reports of subsequent visitors attest the accuracy 
 of her graphic description. She was so fascinating, 
 that Pope esteemed her as highly as he did his own 
 poetry, which is saying much, and when she rejected 
 his love, gave her name an amber crystallization in 
 his severest satire. 
 
 The younger Montagu, eldest child of these bril- 
 
 428827
 
 iV PREFACE. 
 
 liant parents, was unfortunate, from his earliest in- 
 fancy, in being disliked and ill-treated by them. His 
 growth was one of neglect, privation, and harshness. 
 He was left to the society of menials, and may be said 
 to have picked up, rather than received, his education, 
 though he was in Westminster School for a short time. 
 His adventures, before he reached years of manhood, 
 are related in the following pages, and are crowded 
 with vicissitudes. "Whether he followed the humble 
 occupation of chimney-sweep, lived with gypsies in 
 their camp, served on board ship as cabin-boy, in 
 Spain was imprisoned by the " Holy Inquisition," his 
 life was peculiar and romantic to a degree. 
 
 The most celebrated men and women of England, 
 during the reign of George the First, are introduced 
 into this work. Mr. Montagu met them frequently, 
 knew them well, and has described them as he found 
 them. There is no flattery of the great in his narra- 
 tive; he tears the mask from the face of vice, and 
 does not even spare his own mother ! It is a picture 
 of English society, a hundred and fifty years back 
 in its way, a moral panorama. 
 
 B. SHELTON MACKENZIE.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MY mother was a wit. She wrote poetry, composed 
 epigrams, penned the liveliest letters, and scribbled off the 
 bitterest ballads on all her friends and acquaintances. 
 Her tongue was always tipped with gall and bitterness ; 
 her pen was finely pointed with venom. Scandal was her 
 great delight ; her eye flashed with glee at a double mean- 
 ing ; a loose anecdote of one of her lady loves lifted her 
 into Paradise for the day. Happily for her, the enchanting 
 freedom of her female friends was such, that she was 
 seldom without the ambrosial essence which made her 
 blest. She kept a diary, in which she noted down, in the 
 broadest terms, every little slip, or sally, or frail foible 
 which her dearly beloved of the masculine, feminine, or 
 neuter gender and these last constitute a great proportion 
 of what is called "the best society" committed, or were 
 said to have committed; and when the story was not in 
 itself particularly piquant, she spiced and seasoned it in 
 her own fashion, so as to render it hot, agreeable, or stim- 
 ulating to the depraved taste of those in whom her heart 
 sought comfortable fellowship. Her heart, did I say ? 
 Alas! she had no heart! What female wit ever had? 
 There was, it is true, a globular piece of flesh somewhere 
 between the right and left lung, and this performed the
 
 10 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 merely aniinaj functior-s of that noble organ, but resembled 
 its prototype only as a'ri automaton might resemble a man. 
 It was 'a saddening thing to look upon so fair an outside, 
 and reflect how base and black was all within. The asp 
 lurking under roses, the gilded chalice filled with poison, 
 the whited sepulchre covering rottenness these are hack- 
 neyed images, or I would have likened her to one and all. 
 Yet what more appropriate picture of false man or heart- 
 less woman than this last? How fine and smooth and 
 shining is that marble exterior ! the carving beautiful, the 
 devices exquisite, the lines and curves breathing grace, 
 elegance, and perfection ! the inscription eloquent of the 
 angel that lies beneath! We lift up the lid. Pah! an 
 ounce, no, a ton of civet to sweeten the poisoned atmo- 
 sphere. And what are these I see creeping, crawling, 
 writhing, horrible in ghastly life, in and out the eyes, over 
 the mouldering cheeks, through the tangled clotted hair, 
 that once glittered like Apollo's golden tresses ? Let us 
 replace the cover, nor scan too closely that view of hell 
 which is beheld, when human hearts or sepulchres are 
 opened. If the gods see all hearts as I have seen some, 
 why then I doubt if they can be happy. I would not be a 
 god on any such condition. 
 
 Lady Mary was a duke's daughter, and I have the super- 
 lative felicity of high descent. The blood that rolls in my 
 veins is of the noblest quintessence. It is made of the 
 rarest claret, the finest venison, the richest turtle, the most 
 delicious punch, and the most fragrant grapes and pine- 
 apples. These, I think, may be said to constitute the heav- 
 enly ichor of our patricians, and of this divine food our 
 bodies, I suppose, are made. Where our souls come from 
 is quite a different affair. 
 
 I remember my grandfather well. He was a tall man, 
 full of state and grandeur, so courtly, so benevolent in 
 seeming; harder than granite in his inner essence. He
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 11 
 
 trod the earth as if it were highly honored by his foot ; he 
 looked up at the heaven to see whether the sun, the moon, 
 and planets did not regard him with admiration. With 
 his star on his left breast, just over the place where his 
 heart was supposed to be, and in his ducal dress of velvet 
 and gold and ermine, did he not look the impersonation of 
 all that was heroic? He certainly did. That sparkling 
 star was a symbol of the sparkling, shining, glorious heaven- 
 descended spirit enshrined within that patrician heart, 
 beaming with every virtue, and quite eclipsing if it could 
 be seen the radiant lustre of the jewels with which the 
 star was studded. But unluckily the spirit could not be 
 seen. It was too fine a spirit to show itself to vile corporeal 
 eyes ; it was so like divinity in its brightness, that mere 
 ordinary mortals would be stricken blind or dead, like 
 Paul or Semele, if they did but behold it in its celestial 
 effulgence. The Prime Minister of the day, therefore, who 
 was alone conscious of its rare excellence, determined that 
 some appropriate badge, some small faint type of that which 
 was invisible, should be shown to the unconscious, vulgar 
 world, to win their worship of the Beautiful. He gave him 
 the blue ribband of the Garter. 
 
 His grace, the Duke of Kingston, was generous to a 
 fault. His bosom overflowed with gratitude. Could there 
 be a better proof of his virtue ? He was determined not to 
 be outdone by the First Lord of the Treasury. He at 
 once placed at his disposal some half dozen boroughs and 
 their independent members, then very much wanted in a 
 House of Commons more piggish than the Minister thought 
 right. He went farther. He gave him up his very soul. 
 From that day he became the most obedient servant of the 
 Cabinet. The opposition was base enough to call him a 
 pliant tool and sycophant. He voted black white, and 
 white black. He defended all that Ministers did, and vili- 
 fied all that the out-of-place purists solemnly declared they
 
 12 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 ought to have done. He was loud in their praise ev;n 
 when I fear he knew that they were villians ; he was chiv- 
 alrous enough to take upon himself a portion of their most 
 criminal responsibilities. He did not scruple at falsehood, 
 if falsehood was necessary. He would not speak an untruth 
 for a diadem ; no, the aristocracy never speak lies ; they 
 only think and act them ; they don't commit themselves ; 
 but his whole public life became thenceforth a living lie. 
 
 The Mussulmans say that when we are dead, and waiting 
 to be damned, our vices assume some hideous form, and 
 present themselves before the astonished ghost, with some 
 such words as these, " while you lived, you rode me, now 
 it is my turn and I will ride you," whereupon the horrid 
 beast ascends the back of the defunct, and rides him ever- 
 lastingly through the plains of hell. If this be true, and I 
 hope it is, we shall see some queer creatures in the infernal 
 regions. I expect to find my grandfather there with some 
 misshapen, gigantic fox or colossal rat seated on his ducal 
 back, spurring him through perdition, and glaring on him 
 with vulpine eyes of fraud, cruelty, cunning, and duplicity. 
 And both will probably lacquey after the Minister, whose 
 monstrous rider I shall rejoice to see. I hope he will show 
 him no more mercy than the old Man of the Mountain 
 showed Sindbad in the Eastern tale. 
 
 My mother was let me see, how old ? two-and-twenty 
 when my grandfather summoned her one fine morning into 
 his awful presence. A grand match had been proposed ; 
 it was sanctioned by the Minister, it was approved by the 
 King. It would unite two powerful families, whose political 
 interests conjoined would make the opposition tremble, and 
 flaming patriots see the folly of their ways. Fifteen worthy 
 and incorruptible boroughs would be at the immediate 
 command of the distinguished statesman who then happily 
 guided the destinies of England, and led in his leash the 
 two noble and high-minded peers who were to blend their
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 13 
 
 blood in holy matrimony. The lady who was to cement 
 this sacred triple alliance was nothing in their considera- 
 tion ; a majority in the Commons on a beer bill was the 
 main and moving engine. Secure this and England was 
 saved ; lose it, and the destinies of uncounted millions, 
 including the ministry, were forever destroyed. Any single 
 woman, a score, a thousand, a myriad weighed against 
 this was of course lighter than a feather or a flake of snow. 
 The bridegroom was sixty-five, but he was a nobleman 
 of immense wealth, ancient pedigree, and blue blood, azure 
 enough for the most fastidious Spaniard. He was rotten 
 with every disorder that unbridled indulgence in the court 
 of King Charles the Second of sacred memory and his 
 congregated vestals was sure to entail upon the happy 
 votary of morning, noon, and midnight pleasure; but he 
 had high breeding, was perfectly well-dressed, and owned 
 two castles, fifty footmen, not including his members of 
 Parliament, who were out of livery. He had seduced in 
 his vigorous days alas! they were now gone forever 
 several scores of women, and cast them on the streets, 
 with their and his offspring, with a philosophy worthy of 
 the Spartans, or that venerable sage, Mr. John James 
 Rousseau ; but his plate was superb, his cooks first rate, 
 his snuff-boxes in fine taste, and his smile when the paint 
 was fresh looked sweet and courtly. Among his private 
 friends the cream of the cream, the flower and glory of 
 the peerage he sometimes unbent, and even condescended 
 to give a reason for the unbelief that was in him. He had 
 seen too many bishops, he said, to believe in God ; too 
 many patriots to believe in honesty, and too many court 
 virgins to believe in chastity ; so he lived on, mocking all 
 three, and flourished, and was fawned upon by all who loved 
 good feeding more than heaven, and did not care what lies 
 they told, so that the paunch was filled and the gullet 
 tickled with gratuitous dainties. He moved, I need not
 
 14 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 say, in the most exalted circles of rank and fashion ; he 
 blazed in the highest spheres of light the observed of all 
 observers, the adored of all matrons who had fair daughters 
 to dispose of in the slave market of Pall Mall or Gros- 
 venor Square. The Minister always smiled on him, as 
 Satan might on one of his imps the courtiers, pages, and 
 other honorable and noble lick-plates about the palace, 
 half prostrated themselves in the dust as he appeared, for 
 such were the commands which Gold Stick issued. The 
 maids of honor quarrelled about him, and almost pulled 
 caps when no superior spirit was nigh. There was scarcely 
 a lady in the land who would not have felt herself dignified 
 by his friendship, and would not have jumped at an offer 
 of his white and jewelled hand, though it must be owned 
 it trembled more than was agreeable, and was a hand that 
 had performed many dirty operations. He was, in truth, 
 a very noble person, and when I read an account of him 
 the other day in the Rev. Mr. Jacob's Peerage, I was 
 rather disgusted with Providence for permitting so rare a 
 specimen of mankind to die at all. He should have been 
 immortal ; he should at all events have lived for a thousand 
 years or two, to show poor erring, low-bred, shop-keeping 
 human nature to what great heights it may ascend to 
 what splendid summits of virtue poor fallen man under cir- 
 cumstances like his may be raised. But peace to his name ! 
 His memory will at all events survive in Jacob's perfumed 
 and disinterested page. 
 
 This noble lord was filled with the glorious ambition ol 
 progeniting me. Of all the fair maidens who moved in 
 the glorious galaxy of St. James's, the fairest in his eyes 
 was Lady Mary Pierrepoint, eldest daughter of his grace, 
 the Duke of Kingston, afterwards my esteemed mother, the 
 Cassiopeia of Arlington street, and the toast of the kit- 
 cats. He came in a coach and six ; he saw but did not 
 conquer. It was the lady who won the victory, but it was
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 15 
 
 a triumph for which she did not labor. She had no objec- 
 tion to see lovers in scores, or even in hundreds, harnessed 
 to her chariot wheels, and dying for a smile, a glance, or a 
 word of recognition, but then they must be at all events 
 men. The Marquis, it must be owned, was now scarcely 
 one. He had some trifling defects ; trifling in the eyes of 
 wisdom, I mean, but great in the estimation of a young 
 lady, who I fear knew more than was quite correct. He 
 rather tottered, his breath stank, his teeth were out, he 
 had lost the sight of one eye, and the other was gummy ; 
 he often drivelled, and became a disgusting object. But 
 his grace, the Duke of Kingston, saw only his rent-roll, 
 and the First Lord of the Treasury considered only his 
 boroughs. My Lady Mary cared for neither just at that 
 time; she had another man in her eye. Scandal and 
 Mr. Pope declare that she had two to whom she even wrote 
 love-letters. Yet she did not disregard wealth and fame 
 with a fine indifference. She was too sensibly brought up 
 for any such atheistical heresy. The family maxims on 
 this point had been of the most orthodox kind. She knew 
 exactly what these meant ; she had thoroughly calculated 
 their real value; what they were worth and what they 
 would bring. No lady in the land better estimated the 
 solid contentment of heart and satisfaction with Provi- 
 dence and its decrees that springs from thirty thousand a 
 year, and the possession of a little parliamentary empire, 
 with which one can do as one likes. But she thought if a 
 man was tacked to them, it would be on the whole a better 
 bargain than if she got them with a monkey or an old 
 corpse, whose very touch to a sensitive woman, and this 
 she was then, was like pollution. Well, I think she was 
 right. 
 
 Let me go back to that first morning, when my mother 
 was summoned by her papa. Let me proceed to Arlington 
 street, where my most noble grandpa is now waiting foi
 
 16 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 his charming daughter. Methinks I see him seated as if 
 in royal fashion. The sofa is of flowered satin, and his 
 gold-embroidered velvet coat-tails look regal and flowing, 
 and terribly sublime on the brilliant coverlet. He is 
 periwigged and perfumed, like Louis le Grand, and is 
 quite enough to frighten any ordinary young lad}- disposed 
 to rebel, into the most thorough sense of propriety and 
 submission. Kneeling to him, my mother received his 
 blessing. What a comedy for gods and men must this 
 have been ! She is motioned into a low chair which has 
 been already placed opposite to where he sits, at the other 
 side of the broad, finely sculptured chimney piece, over 
 which frowned a grim family portrait, awful enough to 
 scare even ghosts away. I am told she trembled as if half 
 surmising the object for which she was summoned, but if 
 she did she had spirit enough to conceal it, and she masked 
 her face like the oldest politician of the Court. She had a 
 will of her own also, and was fond of showing it when it 
 was expedient. Indeed, all her friends were remarkably 
 self-willed young ladies, and despised papa and mamma 
 with the most well-bred air. But as they knew that papa 
 and mamma had legacies to leave, they did not mind telling 
 them so in public, only they made up for it by ridiculing 
 them in private. On these maxims my lady rested, and 
 they did not desert her now. She subsequently became 
 bolder and more defiant, and when she had learned virtue 
 from Pope and Congreve, modesty from Moll Skerrett and 
 Doll Townsend, and piety from Hoadley and Lord Hervey, 
 she did not cast down her eyes half so Quaker-like as she 
 now did in the illustrious presence of Evelyn, the fifth 
 Marquis of Dorchester, and Duke of Kingston. 
 
 "Molly," says my grandfather, "it is quite time that 
 you should exhibit to the world, as the head of your own 
 establishment, all the wit, and beauty, and accomplish- 
 ments which I am happy to say yon possess in a far
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 17 
 
 greater degree than any other young lady that I have the 
 honor of knowing." 
 
 "Your grace says very true," says my mother, with a 
 curtsey and a shy smile of self-approving love. 
 
 "Lady and the Duchess of ," pursued my lord, 
 
 "were neither of them so old as you when they married, 
 and I believe they are the envy of all the fashionable 
 world." 
 
 " Then the fashionable world," says my mother, " must 
 have a larger superabundance of envy than I thought it 
 had, if it can throw any away upon such a miserable pair 
 as that." 
 
 " Why ?" says my grandfather, looking quite innocent, 
 and as if unconscious of the coming answer, though I 
 think he guessed it. 
 
 "Why?" rejoined my lady ; "because Lord A has 
 
 lost one nose, and will never get another, and the Duke of 
 
 is quite old enough to be his wife's grandfather, and, 
 
 what is worse still, is mean enough to be her duenna." 
 
 "But, my dear Molly," says the duke, "wives don't 
 
 marry for noses, but estates ; and Lord 's property is 
 
 one of the very finest in England." 
 
 " Ah," says my mother, " I don't find fault with the 
 estate, but with the live stock that goes with it. If one 
 could keep the estate and bury the stock, it would be 
 pleasant enough." 
 
 The reader will judge from this that Lady Mary Pierre- 
 point was any thing but a novice. Indeed, she could not 
 well be, for she had already had the benefit of some lessons 
 from Bishop Burnett, who translated Epicetus for her, and 
 then persuaded her she had done it herself. The Duke of 
 Kingston thought it would be as well to come to the point. 
 
 " Molly, my love," said he, " whatever mistaken notions 
 you may entertain on these matters and I can scarcely 
 blame you, for you are very young it will be as well to
 
 18 EDWARD WOETLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 conceal them ; at all events, just at present, for you are 
 going to be married." 
 
 My mother started from her seat as if she had been 
 stung. This was an announcement she scarcely expected 
 to hear. She knew her father's energy, but had not reck- 
 oned on its close advent. In an instant she composed 
 herself, but there was a fiery agent at work within, of which 
 my lord duke did not then dream. She was like the river 
 Nile, calm and still and stately ; you see it flowing grandly 
 before you, in solemn silence and unruffled the abode of 
 peace and innocence. But there is a horrid alligator at the 
 bottom of this majestic stream that will swallow you up if 
 you come near enough to molest or even to look at him. 
 Beware of him, oh, wayfarer ! Even now his eye is upon 
 you, and he waits for your approach ; there is death in 
 this impassive deep. Advance no further or you are un- 
 done. 
 
 "And who, my lord," inquired she, "is the distinguished 
 stranger of whom I am to be made the happy, bewildered 
 spouse?" 
 
 " Lord ," say^ my grandfather ; tt Lord , who 
 
 loves you to madness." 
 
 " I wonder your lordship has not disentombed Henry 
 VIII and ordered me to marry him," replied my mother. 
 " He would certainly be as agreeable to me as that loath- 
 some old vampire, of whose madness indeed I never 
 doubted." 
 
 " I would have done so, if I could," answered the duke ; 
 " but it could not well be managed. However, as I cannot 
 make you Queen of England, I have done the next best 
 
 thing to it, for Lord is certainly one of the most, if 
 
 not the most, powerful man in the country." 
 
 " I am surprised to hear that," answered my mother. 
 "I should have thought the blow of a lady's fan would 
 have prostrated the wretched pigmy."
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 19 
 
 ** A blow from your fan might," rejoined the duke, gal- 
 lantly. And then, as if meditating, he said, half to himself, 
 " he can't live a year, and then what may she not com- 
 mand ? What rank too high for her to reach ?" 
 
 " I trust your lordship will give me some time before I 
 give you a final answer to this unexpected promotion I 
 mean proposition," says my mother, with a feigned calm- 
 ness. 
 
 "Oh, certainly," answered the duke; "any time you 
 require ; only, as you are to be married on Monday next, 
 you need not prolong your meditation beyond that period." 
 
 "Monday nextl" almost screamed my mother; "and 
 this is Thursday. Is your lordship realty serious ?" 
 
 " I am so serious," answered my lord, " that the mar 
 riage settlements are all drawn they are very different 
 from that vagabond Montagu's notions and only wait to 
 be signed. Velours has already got orders to make up 
 your wardrobe. It has cost me upwards of four hundred 
 pounds. Your bridal jewels will the finest in the kingdom, 
 so you will have no trouble. My lord makes an absolute 
 settlement on j^ourself of ten thousand a year ; and if you 
 present him with an heir, as if you are well advised you no 
 doubt will, he increases it to fifteen thousand pounds per 
 annum." 
 
 "An heir!" cried my mother: "why, he is sixty-five." 
 
 " Pooh," says my lord duke ; " you can get the old fool 
 an heir." 
 
 And rising very gracefully, he bowed my mother out of 
 the room, with the dignified courtesy of any king but an 
 English one. 
 
 My lord duke now ordered his coach, and proceeded to 
 dinner in Cavendish Square with the noble lord, his in- 
 tended son-in-law. The two passed a very delightful 
 evening at the princely town mansion of the latter, though 
 I blush to say both got rather fuddled with frequent
 
 20 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 toasts. The bridegroom's health, the bride's happiness, an 
 
 heir to the house of , the glorious golden days of 
 
 Charles Stuart and his Saturnalian friends, &c., &c., con- 
 stituted the staple of their conversation, and lent ambrosial 
 sweetness to the Champagne, the Burgundy, and claret. 
 My lord duke was put to bed by his two servants at one 
 o'clock in the morning ; in an hour or two afterwards my 
 mother eloped, and was married to Edward Wortley Mon- 
 tagu, Esquire, second son of the Honorable Mr. Sidney 
 Montagu, whose precious name I have now the pleasure to 
 bear. 
 
 Thus my mother, for a whim, lost fifteen thousand 
 pounds per annum how nobly and splendidly that para- 
 dise income sounds and I the satisfaction of being Lord 
 
 , with two castles, a palace in London, fifty footmen, 
 
 and a dozen grinning lackeys, with M. P. tacked to their 
 names. Such is Fate! However, I do believe I should 
 have been happier and honester as a chimney sweep. 
 
 CHAPTER M. 
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU, Esq., Member of Parlia- 
 ment, Ambassador Extraordinary to the Sublime Porte, 
 and I know and care not what else, was of a descent fully 
 equal in heavenly grandeur to that of my most patrician 
 grandfather on the maternal side, His Grace the Duke of 
 Kingston. The Montagus, by the most undoubted evi- 
 dence of Heralds and Kings-at-Arms, traced back their 
 pedigree to Drogo de Montagu (in Latin, de Monte Acuto) 
 of the county of Somerset, whose arms were azure, a gry- 
 phon segreiant or ; though they afterwards quartered three 
 fusils conjoined in fess, and an eagle displayed, emerald
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 21 
 
 bonked and memberod. After intermarrying with the 
 daughters, or reputed daughters of kings, princes, earls 
 and grandees I will not aver that grooms or footmen 
 never intervened to poison the pure fountains of our blood 
 one of them became a duke, (oh, rare!) and another, my 
 immediate ancestor, an earl, for having faithfully betraj r ed 
 the navy, with which the Commonwealth intrusted him, 
 into the hands of His Serene Majesty, King Charles Stuart, 
 then sojourning in Holland, and anxiously awaiting those 
 golden pieces sent from England, which when they did 
 arrive, gave such sovereign contentment to himself, his 
 lords and ladies of degree. He was subsequently shot, or 
 drowned, or stifled, in the sea fight at Southwold Bay, 
 fought May 28, 1672, His Royal Highness the Duke of 
 York having had the pleasure on that occasion of treating 
 him with the most indecent scorn and contempt a mark 
 of royal favor which so preyed upon his sensitive heart, 
 that it is supposed he threw away his noble existence in 
 disgust, or rage, or sorrow. He certainly deserved better 
 from one for whose family he had risked, and lost all 
 that is, all that honorable men value ; but sic erat in fatis, 
 and I suppose it was right. 
 
 The Round heads and Republicans called him a traitor, 
 and were base enough to exult in his reward, but this did 
 not disturb his respected shade. 
 
 His second son, Sidney Montagu, was my father's father. 
 He was a large rough-looking man, as if he had some 
 butcher's blood in him, with a huge flapped hat, a coarse, 
 sensual face, a thick slobbering lip, a heavy cunning eye, 
 and a tongue that perpetually rapped forth oaths, blas- 
 phemy, or ribald filth, the three brilliant graces which he 
 had acquired in the Court of his royal master, whom in 
 our pure thanksgiving to God we truly designate "our 
 then most gracious Sovereign Lord, thy servant, King 
 Charles the Second." 
 2
 
 22 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 He married a great heiress, the greatest, perhaps, in 
 England at that time, for whom he professed the most 
 fervent love, and by the will of her father, Sir Francis 
 Wortley, assumed her name in addition to his own. Thus 
 he became Sidney Wortley Montagu, Esquire, of Wharn- 
 clifi'e Lodge, in the county of York, and of as many town 
 houses as he could well like. This was a grand prize for 
 him, but I fear it fared but sadly with the other party to 
 this civil contract. 
 
 Like most young women who marry rakes, or hell-fire 
 spirits, she had the worst of the bargain. The partnership 
 was unprofitable in the extreme. She was treated like a 
 dog, or a king's consort, for the few short years she lived 
 under his wing, was eventually separated from her lord, 
 and never ceased regretting or cursing her fatal jump into 
 the Etna of holy matrimony. She had better, indeed, 
 have gone into Tartarus at once. But thus it always is, 
 and thus may it always be, with such accursed nuptials. 
 Nemesis avenges them if no other person does. 
 
 My father, Edward, was the second and only surviving 
 son of this cat and dog couple the reformed rake, who 
 was dissolute to the last, the happy bride who was forever 
 miserable. His own marriage in due time was quite as 
 comfortable and auspicious as his father's. 
 
 The way in which this last-named nuptial was brought 
 to pass was this. My father had a sister, Mrs. Anne 
 Montagu, whom he very much regarded, for she bore a 
 strong personal likeness to himself, and as he loved the 
 original very much, he could scarcely help being partial to 
 that which was its copy. Besides, she flattered him ; and 
 worthless people are very partial to this species of luxury. 
 
 Mrs. Anne had got acquainted with my mother in some 
 way that I have now forgotten. They presented a curious 
 contrast; almost as different as Harlequin and Pantaloon. 
 Sallust says that to think the same and wish the same
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 23 
 
 constitutes the basis of firm friendship. This may be true 
 in politics though, in politics, I don't believe friendship 
 exists, albeit, hatred does ; but it is certainly not true in 
 ordinary life; for there we see that persons whose charac- 
 ters strikingly differ, are most often knit together by the 
 strongest bonds that love, or money, or omnipotent and 
 all-pervading self-interest can fabricate. 
 
 My Lady Mary had at an early age begun to cultivate 
 her talent for letter writing ; that means she embellished 
 all she heard with a purple tint of fable, and penned it 
 down to her correspondents as veritable truth. This is 
 what all epistolizers do, as the scandalized world no doubt 
 will one day find out if Horry Walpole's gilt-edged bud- 
 gets of lies are printed by some son of Curll, for theii 
 edification. Every alternate sentence of that prince of 
 cockle shells will prove to be either absolutely false, or 
 horribly distorted from the fact, yet so nicely dovetailed 
 into that which is really true, that only the wisest will not 
 be deceived, and the general readers of the next age will 
 form the most erroneous notions of the leaders of this ; 
 unless indeed some literary madman shall arise, and devote 
 the whole of a frenzied life to find out that remnant of 
 truth which will then be almost irrecoverable, and which 
 if recovered will not be worth the paper on which it is 
 writ. 
 
 She had run through Madam de Noyer's memoirs, and 
 told her correspondents how insipid they were, because 
 they did not detail intrigues. She had seen Nicolini as a 
 naked savage strangling a lion, on which she wrote to her 
 friends rather curiously than chastely. She romped with 
 Nelly Willoughby, and entered into nice particulars of a 
 tumble which Miss Hoyden got from the top of a wall, 
 and when a fire happened at a neighbor's house she was 
 witty on the flight en chemise of the frightened inmates. 
 She poked into the New Atlantis, and knew all the secrets
 
 24 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 of that demure riddle as well as old Mother Manley her- 
 self, and when she got or wrote any loose lampoons she 
 communicated them freely to her lady friends and corre- 
 spondents. In a word she was a most delightful living 
 edition of Count Grammont, only that I think she was not 
 half so guarded in her speech as that modest chronicler of 
 the loves of St. James's. Among her cherished confidants 
 was Mrs. Anne Wortley. Like all dull phlegmatic people, 
 she was greatly pleased with the lively anecdotes, the 
 touches of scandal, the vivid narrative, the neat jests and 
 flippant double meanings, the graceful epigram in prose, 
 which my mother flung from her with a careless inimitable 
 air, that had all the fresh bloom of nature upon it. Of the 
 truth or falsehood conveyed she never cared to inquire, 
 but like all such human frogs, was pleased with what for 
 the time enlivened her cold blood, and reduced others to 
 her own stagnant level. She showed these light lampoons 
 to her brother, who shared in her enjoyment, and began 
 by degrees to feel a sort of frog-like attraction to the fail 
 letter-writer. From this originated their first acquaint- 
 ance, and Mrs. Anne was a decorous go-between, who 
 fetched and carried messages, and nobody suspected the 
 virgin prude to be as skilful in intrigue as the most 
 finished abigail of the theatre. 
 
 Mrs. Anne Wortley was staid, grave, and I fear stupid ; 
 long-nosed, and lantern-jawed, like all our breed ; my Lady 
 Mary was arch, livety, bounding like Camilla in the 
 jEneid, the embodiment of sprightliness and vivacity. 
 Mrs. Anne had grave eyes, a solid chin, and a triangular 
 face; such people never laugh. Lady Mary had an oval 
 face, and until she lost it, the prettiest little cock-up of a 
 nose that can be conceived. Her lips and mouth seemed 
 made for joyoushess, her eyes were bright and piercing, 
 and full of flashing lustre. Mrs. Anne in figure was like 
 the moving sentry-box of leaves which covers Jack-o'-the-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 25 
 
 Green on May day ; she walked like an elephant. Lady 
 Mary was graceful in form as one of Diana's nymphs 
 in form I saj', for in nothing else could she resemble a 
 follower of the huntress queen. Yet, this pair were really 
 attached to each other, as I suppose a goose and a canary- 
 bird might be. 
 
 Mr. Montagu and Lady Mary Pierrepoint accidentally 
 met in Mrs. Wortley's room one afternoon he sick of 
 Addison's conceit, she panting to enchain a man. The 
 rich heir was at once fascinated by the fair lady. She 
 limed him with a glance, and the bird could not escape. 
 In vain he summoned into memory all the grave lessons 
 of caution which he had received from the right honorable 
 Joseph, himself a hen-pecked husband and hater of the 
 sex; they were counterbalanced by lively Dick Steele's 
 gay pictures of wedded bliss. In vain he brought before 
 him all that Swift had vomited about those fair deities of 
 dirt, who then constituted the fashionable world, and 
 shone like firework stars around its galaxy ; the glittering 
 outside of this new Calypso served but as a foil to what 
 he for the moment regarded as the raving folly of a 
 woman-scorning parson with a dirty cassock and a muddy 
 face. They talked of love, money, politics, the court, and 
 finally of Quintus Curtius. The lady declared she had 
 never read him. This was true, and was a clever mode 
 of announcing her knowledge of Latin. The lover was 
 astonished to find a woman who could even read ; in those 
 Saturnian times only a few could spell. A few days 
 elapsed and she received a superb edition of that affected 
 writer, with these lines for which the impassioned lover 
 paid some Grub-street Tasso half-a-croAvn neatly written 
 on the leaf that faced the title page. 
 
 * Beanty like this had vanquished Persia shown 
 The Mncedon had laid his empire down, 
 And polished Greece obeyed a barbarous throne.
 
 26 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Had wit so bright adorned a Grecian dame 
 The am'rous youth had lost his thirst for fame, 
 Nor distant India sought through Syria's plain ; 
 But to the Muses stream with her had run 
 And thought her lover more than Ammon's son." 
 
 The affectation and silliness of these love verses was a 
 fit and proper prelude to the whole comedy in which this 
 noble pair subsequent!}- played the hero and heroine. A 
 correspondence begun in falsehood could scarcely terminate 
 in love. An oyster, indeed, was as capable of that ethereal 
 passion as my father; my mother could no more be in- 
 spired by it than the pearl which is that oyster's prize 
 and canker. The acquaintance, however, ripened. Mr. 
 Montagu was dry as tinder, and my Lady Mary as hot 
 and fiery as ducal blood longing to burst forth upon the 
 gabbling town in a gorgeous equipage could make her. 
 As mushrooms grow up in a night, so did the all-powerful 
 desire of cohesion within the beating hearts of this ena- 
 mored pair. The lady longed for liberty, a town house, 
 and a coach and six ; the gentleman to own as one of his 
 appendages, a slave in the shape of a woman who had 
 knowledge, wit and talent, and could write a whole page 
 without violating grammar and orthography. So scarce 
 a bird was then an ornithological curiosity and we know 
 what an Englishman will give for a rarity. They met, 
 they glanced, they talked and corresponded; each knew 
 as if instinctively that real love had nothing to do with 
 their commerce, yet they were attracted to each other as 
 the amber and the thread, though every eye could see how 
 widely the two differed. Mr. Montagu, however, with all 
 his love, was no fool ; he was as keen as a fox to all that 
 affected his own interest. He was not so bewitched by 
 the lady as to be blind to certain imperfections which 
 disclosed themselves day by day; but he was one who 
 hated to have a desire which he could not gratify. It is, 
 indeed, a great hardship for a fine gentleman with un-
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 27 
 
 limited wealth not to be able to do what he likes; it is 
 one of the bores of existence which Providence ought to 
 amend Mr. Montagu thought so. He coolly contem- 
 plated his condition, his mistress, and his heart ; he sur- 
 veyed them as an anatomist the body which he is about 
 to dissect. He was not perfectly satisfied with either, 
 and he scarcely knew what to do. The lady was desir- 
 able, but settlements were stupid, and restraint rather 
 disagreeable. But, then he wanted a son to inherit his 
 enormous wealth ; if it was to go anywhere, it were best 
 to one of his own begetting ; he wanted a wife to rule his 
 house and servants, who cost him a good deal of trouble, 
 and to give him also a little personal distinction ; he could 
 scarcely get one better suited for these worthy objecta 
 than the Lady Mary ; he wanted something to fill a void 
 in his heart which sometimes made itself felt, notwith- 
 standing Addison's parsonical prate, and he supposed a 
 wife would do so. He was doomed to disappointment in 
 all these three wishes. His son was exiled from his house, 
 and was forbidden to be the recipient of his treasures ; he 
 obtained a wife whom he separated from in a brief time, 
 and kept at a most respectful distance all his life, who 
 disgraced herself and the name she bore, and never gave 
 him but one dajj's pleasure ; he was deprived of all solid 
 happiness through life, he lived despised, and died detested. 
 His wealth went to the child of a villanous Scotsman 
 who scorned him, and who was himself the scorn of man- 
 kind. 
 
 A sort of coy flirtation went on for two or three years 
 between this accomplished pair. At the end of that time, 
 Mrs. Wortley, the sister, died, and the lady began to write 
 love-letters to the brother. These epistles I have seen. 
 They breathe in every line the insincerity of the writer; 
 the affectation of one who desires to be thought that which, 
 she is not. She lavishes praise on herself, with a pro-
 
 28 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 fusion that exhibits the most eager desire to persuade her 
 correspondent that she is all that can make him happiest 
 of mortals. As Midas changed every thing into gold on 
 which he laid his finger, so she has but to point attention 
 to any one of her numerous qualifications, and it straight 
 stands forth splendent and beautiful. Other women are 
 vain, light, frivolous, deceitful; they love equipages and 
 grandeur ; they are rebellious shameful things against 
 their husband's humors; she is the perfect and infallible 
 female destined to make his life one path of roses. No- 
 body was ever so disinterested as she is. She is all heart, 
 feeling, purity and truth. Her notions are modest to a 
 nicety. She extravagant ! Heaven forefend the thought ! 
 She can be content with love in the smallest cottage. She 
 a lover of fine clothes and gilt coaches ! Oh 1 she is above 
 all such nonsense. Apartments, table, pin-money, jewels, 
 a train of grinning slaves in plush are things that never 
 enter into her head. There is only one man of sense on 
 earth. Him she loves, venerates, adores. Who can he 
 be ? The receiver of the letter may, perhaps, faintly guess 
 but she will never name him no, she will perish, sooner 
 than divulge her passion. Does he find fault with her? 
 Alas I he is deceived. He has entirely mistaken her 
 character. She is a ready-made angel. But if she has 
 any imperfections there is one man who can mould her to 
 his way of thinking, until she shall outshine the Seraphim. 
 What a mocking imp he must have been who sat and 
 guided her pen as she wrote down all this 1 But was our 
 ardent lover deceived by it ? I scarcely think so. He had 
 an immense fund of common sense, or rather that dulness 
 which the world calls by that title : the society of wits in 
 which he moved, and from whose light he derived a kind 
 of borrowed lustre, had opened his eyes to all that was 
 ground him, and he was not to be taken in. The sim- 
 plicity of Arcadia was scarcely then prevalent among the
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 29 
 
 shepherds and shepherdesses of Saint James's, though in 
 theory at least it was much admired. My father was an 
 odd compound such only as our English soil produces. 
 For there are no people so eccentric as we are, with all our 
 boasted solidity. The maddest things that have been 
 done have been perpetrated by Englishmen. Need I men- 
 tion Rochester, or Peterborough, or Wharton, in proof of 
 what I say ? Need I go over the scandalous chronicles of 
 our insanity in love and war and gambling and domestic 
 polity? This odd jumble of characters it was which made 
 Mr. Montagu love and scorn Lady Mary almost in the 
 same instant, and loathe himself for not being able to 
 emerge from her fetters. He labored hard to do so, but 
 he failed. The fact is, she made up her mind to fascinate 
 him, and she succeeded. He was not Ulysses enough to 
 escape her spells, though he sailed before her with all the 
 caution of the Prince of Ithaca. The Siren, however, pre- 
 vailed over the wise man, and he was shipwrecked and 
 drowned. 
 
 There were two things which Mr. Edward Wortley 
 Montagu loved with a devotion that never slept. The 
 first was his own dear self; the second was his own dar- 
 ling money. These two idols formed to him the whole 
 universe. The sun miglit shine, and the seasons might 
 revolve, and the heavens might speak in tones of thunder, 
 and flash in rays of lightning the wonders of the Supreme 
 One, but all such objects were trivial and contemptible in 
 the eyes and ears and thoughts of this distinguished man, 
 as contrasted with the two main splendors of the earth, 
 himself and his money, his money and himself. He had 
 once told Addison, who wrote him a kind of half-begging 
 letter, complaining of the loss of his place and of his estate, 
 that he himself " had once lived for six months on fifty 
 pounds as pleasantly as ever he did in his life, and could 
 have lived for less than half that sum, entertaining himself
 
 30 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 with the speech of Ofellus in the second satire of the second 
 book;" an observation which coming from a man who 
 could command the greatest wealth of any commoner then 
 living, lets a whole flood of light in upon his true nature, 
 and was as cool a mode of politely refusing by anticipa- 
 tion, that which he supposed his friend needed, as even 
 Chesterfield himself would have applauded. 
 
 This intense love of money in so young a man became 
 in time so absorbing that it swallowed up all minor pas- 
 sions, and the richest personage in England became the 
 most greedy, covetous and mean ; guarding his gold as if 
 it were his heart's blood, and hating to think that any one 
 should ever possess that which he valued above all earthly 
 or even heavenly things. But why name heavenly, when 
 it was a word expressing an idea that he knew not ? Yet 
 these two intense passions became for a period subordinate 
 to a third, and that was a longing desire for Lady Mary, 
 which possessed him night and day, and which, although 
 he wrestled stoutly against it, conquered him in the end. 
 But his liking was short-lived. The temporary appetite 
 disappeared forever like a dream, and his true nature re- 
 asserted dominion. 
 
 Pope, who was I think the dirtiest little dwarf of a 
 varlet that ever hopped upon the earth, has drawn a por- 
 trait of Mr. Montagu and his wife, as they became devel- 
 oped in after years, when the ruling passion of both was in 
 the ascendant, when even the pretence of liking would 
 have sounded too absurd for either to make it, and all 
 their bliss was placed in cursing me, and inwardly loath- 
 ing each other as a pair of fiends. 
 
 *' Avldlen or his wife, no matter which, 
 For him you'll call a dog and her 
 Sell their presented partridges and fruits 
 And humbly live on rabbits and on roots. 
 One half-pint bottle serves them both to dino, 
 And is at once their vinegar and wine.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 31 
 
 But on some lucky day as when they found 
 
 A lost bank bill, or heard thoir son was drowned 
 
 At such a feast old vinegar to spare 
 
 Is what two souls so generous cannot boar : 
 
 Oil though it stunk, they drop by drop impart, 
 
 But sowse the cabbage with a bounteous heart." 
 
 This giant avarice when my father courted my mother 
 was not yet fully grown. It was only in its cradle, but it 
 was even then a youthful Hercules. Accordingly when 
 the languishing lover waited on the Duke of Kingston to 
 solicit the fair hand of Lady Mary, that illustrious peer 
 put one or two inconvenient questions to our Leander 
 which disgusted all the Cupid in his heart. He was his 
 father's sole surviving son ; the immense property of the 
 unhappy heiress of the Wortley's, who had given herself 
 and her dominions up to the debauched old ogre with the 
 flapped hat, was so strictly settled on the issue male, that 
 by no possibility could the aforesaid ogre, though very 
 much inclined, dispose of any portion of it as he wished. 
 
 My lord Marquis he was not made a duke till three or 
 four years afterwards accordingly began to stipulate that 
 if the snowy hand he did not mention the icy heart of 
 his beloved daughter Mary, who would be a treasure to a 
 prince, was made over to the eager suitor, all the property 
 of the Wortleys and Montagus combined should be settled 
 on the heir male of the happy union. This was the stern 
 condition alone on which this loving parent would consent 
 to be separated from a beloved child, the idol of his heart 
 and home. But this condition by no means suited Mr. 
 Edward Wortley Montagu. It seemed hard enough to 
 him ; he forgot at the moment the splendid prize he was 
 soliciting. To part with his dearly beloved treasure, even 
 in thought, was torture greater than any that the Inquisi- 
 tion had devised. Could it be recompensed by the posses- 
 sion of a few score pounds of human flesh and blood, even 
 though both were highly noble ? The matter was doubtful ;
 
 32 EDWARD WOR'TLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 he rather thought it an unfair proposal. He could not 
 endure to dwell on the fancy that his gold, the lord god 
 of his whole nature, should ever pass out of his grasp, 
 even on parchment, much less could he bear the sight of 
 one, who though already not in being, (I mean my worthy 
 self,) would probably arise at some future day, and long 
 for his death, as ardently as he now longed for the disso- 
 lution of the cruel old cannibal who had made his wife's 
 %xistence a living hell upon earth, and who hated his son 
 and heir expectant with all the virulence of a Montagu. 
 
 The lover offered any reasonable amount of settlement 
 upon the lady herself, for whom he had a sort of epicure's 
 liking, or a museum maker's desire, but positively refused 
 to endow his future offspring with a penny. 
 
 A fiery scene occurred. That the noble grandchild of a 
 Pierrepoint should be left to the caprice of a Montagu, 
 was not to be listened to. The very suggestion was an 
 insult, a degradation, a blow, and the father and future 
 son-in-law parted with the most hearty hatred of each 
 other, which, like most hatreds, went with them unex- 
 tinguished to the grave and worms. 
 
 Now came my lord's turn. He had long considered 
 Lady Mary as a bore and spy upon his actions. He 
 shunned her eye and feared her tongue, and dreaded her 
 letter writing. She was too big to be a toy ; she was too 
 clever to be eluded by a fine gentleman who even still 
 followed his gallantries ; she was, worst of all, too old to 
 be agreeable to the presence of a man who was as yet in 
 his prime, and had no particular fancy for parading him- 
 self as some score of years more ancient than he looked, 
 as the parent of grown-up children must ever, it is to be 
 regretted, be forced to appear. He had, besides, another 
 spouse in view for himself, whom, indeed, he soon wedded 
 Lady Belle Bentinck, the youngest daughter of King 
 William's Earl of Portland. The Minister, too, urged
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 33 
 
 him to make a profitable investment by means of liis 
 daughter; and offended pride and awakened hatred stimu- 
 lated him on to snatch this golden apple from the enrap- 
 tured Mr. Montagu. 
 
 He lost no time, therefore, in patching up a contract 
 with that illustrious peer of whom I have already made 
 honorable mention, and as he never anticipated opposition, 
 his rage at the disappointment of his hopes when my 
 mother eloped may be more easily imagined than described. 
 
 Which of the parties gained on the whole by the pro- 
 ceeding would be a curious inquiry. I rather think it was 
 my grandfather, for he got the dukedom. 
 
 The disappointed peer did not complain much ; he died 
 soon after, to the great joy of his heir. 
 
 Mr. Montagu succeeded in his wish a wife without a 
 settlement but soon got sick of his toy, and panted in 
 vain for single-blessedness. The devil gave him wealth, 
 but would not make him a widower a very uncivil thing 
 to do ; but such things will happen. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE 12th of August, 1712, was a day memorable for 
 many things, not the least of which was my mother's mar- 
 riage. She came to her husband, as she said herself, with 
 only " a night-gown and a petticoat," and she was probably 
 agreeable enough for a few moments in these habiliments, 
 but I never could discover that his passion survived the 
 first four-and-twenty hours of their union. 
 
 In a month or two he sent her to a remote part of the 
 country, while he himself wandered about to various places, 
 now saying that he was electioneering, now engaged in
 
 34 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 visiting friends, who were to interfere between the two 
 rival and angry fathers-in-law, now amusing himself in 
 London, where he received his letters at Jacob Tonson's, 
 opposite Catharine street, in the Strand, now advertising 
 for mortgages and young spendthrift heirs, who paid exor- 
 bitant interest for ready money. Never did any man more 
 suddenly get cured than he did. But what discovery had 
 he made that so suddenly sickened him of his fair bride ? 
 What damning fact transpired that put his love to flight 
 in the hymeneal hour ? Had my lady ? But no ; these 
 things can be only matter of guess. Nor is it for me to 
 search too deeply into this abstruse inquiry. Certain it is 
 that he would have given a large sum to be free again. 
 He left her, and with ill-concealed scorn. She, meanwhile, 
 boxed up somewhere in the country, far remote from civ- 
 ilization, and the squares in which she had so longed to 
 glitter, sent him every day the most bitter complaints of 
 headache, spleen, and want of sleep. But he treated all 
 such nonsense with contempt, or with that fine stoicism 
 which Addison, who consoled himself over a bottle for his 
 own domestic mishaps with Lady "Warwick, had taught 
 him, and which he now for the first time felt that he could 
 practise. He did not condescend to write even a single 
 line, nor send one consoling message, though her peevish- 
 ness increased, her melancholy augmented, and her letters 
 grew more frequent. I was born, but even this made no 
 change. The result, as might have been expected, was 
 this Lady Mary hated her husband, and cared very little 
 what she did out of malice or revenge. 
 
 My father's cousin, Charles Montagu, having some time 
 before this been made Earl of Halifax, Knight of the 
 Garter that sure badge 'of virtue and nobleness and first 
 Lord of the Treasury, our family star was at its zenith, 
 and my father waa made one of the Lords Commissioners. 
 On the Earl's death and Walpole's succession, the embassy
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 35 
 
 to Constantinople was given to Mr. Montagu, as a special 
 token of courtly approbation, or, as some said, a courtly 
 mode of banishment. I don't know why he selected it, if 
 indeed it was his own choice at all. A gentleman less 
 imbued with orientalism never lived. But like his mad 
 marriage, it was probably one of his eccentric crotch- 
 ets, and he resolved to indulge it. The jewelled East 
 perhaps had charms for his golden thirst. Could he have 
 left his wife behind I have no doubt he would ; why he 
 did not I can scarcely tell. I suppose there were reasons 
 there always are. I wish he had, though I suppose that 
 as accidents will arise in the best-regulated families, and 
 with the best-conducted footmen, the same mishap which 
 befel her afterwards in the royal seraglio would have hap- 
 pened had she been left alone in England. 
 
 We packed up our baggage and departed. This was in 
 1716, when I was not three years old. Of our adventures 
 on the road and during our stay in Stamboul, I can, of 
 course, personally know nothing, nor do I indeed know 
 very much more than all the readers of Lady Mary's 
 letters. Whatever will bear publication appears there ; all 
 that will not bear it is penned, I suppose, in another book, 
 and will be read out in thunders on the last day if such a 
 horrid event should ever happen. It will be rather a start- 
 ling investigation into the high-bred secrets of high-bred 
 sinners. 
 
 My lady corresponded during the whole period with 
 Walpole's mistress, Poll Skerrett ; received the most dis- 
 graceful love-letters from Mr. Pope; sneered at the ugly 
 Austrian dames in paint and whalebone petticoats ; had 
 an offer made to her of his heart and person during her 
 stay in Vienna by a young Count Somebody, which she 
 protested she refused, poor Mr. Wortley having been con- 
 sulted by neither in this little arrangement, and finally 
 visited the seraglio of the Sultan.
 
 36 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 The Ambassador was recalled in ITlf, but out of sullen- 
 ness or fear of scandal and the tongue of the wits, his dear 
 friends, or some other eccentric English crotchet, he did 
 not come back until 1718, when he probably thought my 
 lady's folly had been forgotten in the five hundred similar 
 ones that had. happened in the interval. They were imme- 
 diately surrounded by a gang of flatterers, knaves, authors, 
 and fine ladies corpses covered with pearls who then 
 constituted the finest ornament of fashionable society. 
 Among these choice and faithful friends, two in particular 
 distinguished themselves, Pope and Congreve ; the former 
 laboring with all his might to seduce my mother by his 
 artful tongue, as he had previously laid the basis for it by 
 his flattering pen ; and the latter aiding him to corrupt 
 her mind still more than it previously had been by her 
 association with bishops, courtiers, and courtesans. 
 
 What fine people there were in those days, and how my 
 heart swells as I think of them and their by-gone splendors ! 
 Providence, I suppose, had scarcely ever before collected a 
 greater number of worthless villians, harridans, and scoun- 
 drels, without hanging or transporting more than three- 
 fourths of them. The best deserved to be broken on the 
 wheel. Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham and Normandy, 
 commonly called John of Bucks, was at their head ; an 
 atheist, full of the notions of Hobbes ; a libertine, stuffed 
 with the principles of Rochester ; a cheat in every thing 
 where money was concerned. Prior, vain, sensual, sordid 
 in his intrigues, may be said to have brought up the tail. 
 Congreve, conceited, worthless, and selfish, utterly profli- 
 gate in his private life, and so great a braggart, that 
 scarcely any thing he said could be credited ; Addison, a 
 crawling sycophant, full of envy and spleen ; frantic when 
 a friend prospered ; happy only when misfortune lighted 
 on his associates ; a hypocrite who would take you by the 
 hand, and if he heard you utter a sentiment which in his
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 87 
 
 heart he knew to be erroneous, would labor to confirm you 
 in it with all his zeal, rejoicing in your inexperience, as 
 Satan might exult over the fall of a young novice. Pope, 
 who was all malice, hatred, and uncharitableness ; false as 
 a Jesuit, fickle as a fool, and mercenary as a waiting- worn an. 
 The Duke of Wharton, now in the full glory of his profli- 
 gacy, at the head of his club called " Schemers," who openly 
 avowed that the ruin of women constituted the sole tie 
 that bound them together, and who for that reason alone 
 were sought after, caressed, and hunted by all the silly 
 simpletons in town. Garth, whose entire discourse was 
 dissolute as his manners were profligate, and who laughed 
 at all religion as a sham ; Kneller, gross and vain ; Cooper, 
 afterwards Lord Chancellor, a minister of the law and a 
 keeper of the king's conscience, who set the statutes 
 against bigamy at defiance, and was only liable to death 
 for felony on the prosecution of any one who could bring 
 home the well-known charge. Townsend, the brother-in- 
 law of Walpole, and his brazen countess immortalized to 
 infamy by my cousin Fielding, as Lady Bellaston in Tom 
 Jones with Sunderland, the knave, and Craggs, the stock- 
 jobber, who died just in time to escape the universal infamy 
 which fell upon all connected with the South Sea swindle. 
 But why go through this Newgate Calendar, or enumerate 
 the twelve tribes of villain statesmen and loathsome rakes, 
 with Walpole for their Alpha and Omega, with whom my 
 lady was brought perpetually into contact? Why follow 
 her to the Prince's, where she sought to ingratiate herself 
 with the heir apparent; and when that failed, why pursue 
 her to the court, where she herself became hall' domesticated 
 with Schulenberg and Kilmansegg, and Platen, horrible 
 queans, who would not have been endured in any decent 
 company, but for the protection of the hideous old sover- 
 eign ? A more detestable academy for a young wife to 
 enter cannot be imagined. It set the final seal on my 
 
 428827
 
 38 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 mother's principles and ruined her, and what might before 
 have been accidental was now confirmed vice. 
 
 I have drawn a pleasing picture of aristocratic life in 
 England sixty years ago. The colors are sombre, the tints 
 are dark, it must be owned ; but I write with the pencil 
 of historic truth. I have shown the inside of these men 
 whom biographers, essayists, and historians will doubtless 
 paint with shining colors, bringing out all their prominent 
 virtues with fine gold, and covering the gorgeous canvas 
 with glaze and varnish, and many a parting touch of purest 
 light. I shall be called a misanthropist. "Well ! I do hate 
 mankind, but it is mankind constituted of rogues and 
 rascals. I shall be denounced as a satirist. There is no 
 reproach in the title. Far more disgraceful, it seems to 
 me, to be like Burnet, the panegyrist of vice and corrupt 
 power, than the dread anatomist of its horrors. 
 
 England, at the period of which I now write, was the ape 
 of France, and as almost every crime which Juvenal enu- 
 merates, or Suetonius describes, or man imagines, was prac- 
 tised with open impunity by the Gauls, so it came to pass 
 that in our own country also ever its servile imitator 
 it was thought unfashionable to be decent, and good breed- 
 ing to be impious. Here was a young woman, who might 
 even yet have been virtuous, and certainly was fascinating, 
 flung into a whirlpool from which it was almost impossible 
 to escape, while those her superiors in 3"ears or judgment 
 who might have lent her a helping hand out of it, only 
 sought to thrust her deeper downwards into the abyss.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 39 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NEED I describe our grand house in Cavendish Square ? 
 We had a drawing-room and a library and a billiard-room ; 
 a public dining-room and a private dining-room, and a 
 picture gallery, and a red saloon, and a breakfast-room, 
 and a blue chamber, and I know not how many writing- 
 closets and ante-rooms, and other fine places, all of which, 
 however, looked grim and desolate, and dirty enough 
 vast Saharaa in the heart of London. Wherever you 
 glanced there were family portraits, hard-faced men in 
 periwigs, and brazen-eyed men in helmets and shining 
 breast-plates, and some in ruffs and scarfs and doublets, 
 and horrid monsters in China, and blue jars like those that 
 hid the band of robbers in Ali-Baba, and huge fire-places 
 in which a fire was never lighted, and great sconces in which 
 candles were never lit, and vast mirrors in which a smiling, 
 happy countenance was never seen. Mould and mustiness 
 and solitude combined to make the home a horror. For 
 this mansion was in truth the chosen abode of Misery in 
 the august person of my honored father, and if I were 
 writing an allegorical poem like Ovid, I might describe it 
 with many poetical particulars, which, as I am neither 
 a Naso nor a Spenser, are thus forever lost to the world. 
 The servants were wretched scarecrows, as tall and thin as 
 the poor apothecary in Romeo and Juliet ; the blinds were 
 usually undrawn, so that a dim, cavernous twilight per- 
 vaded the whole house ; there was not even the song of a 
 bird, the friendly footstep of a dog, or the comfortable 
 mew of a cat heard in this great, silent labyrinth, for our 
 ex-Lord of the Treasury was too prudent to invest money 
 or to squander it in such idle, vain accessories as these. I 
 only wonder that lie did not scrape the gold off the frames 
 and sell all the Indian monkeys for whatever they would
 
 40 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 fetch, for I know he hated to look at their distorted fea- 
 tures. I suppose he would have done so if he dared, but 
 my lady, though as musical as any nightingale of Parnas- 
 sus, had a tongue and when she did speak, she could make 
 its music ring like the baying of a pack in full cry. Yet 
 why should she not ? Were not female tongues formed for 
 this purpose ? 
 
 How well I can remember the feeling with which I used 
 to steal about the great staircases, in the wretched twilight, 
 half afraid of the ugly, black, begrimed male savages on 
 canvas, who glowered like ogres of the olden time out of 
 the dusky corners Calibans and demons to my young 
 imagination. Sometimes I stopped and contemplated the 
 female portraits, as if I could receive from them that sweet 
 music of sympathy for which my heart so ardently longed. 
 I have gone up to them when I was unobserved, and kissed 
 their cold red lips, and wondered why they did not open 
 their arms to me, and why their eyes were still and lifeless, 
 when mine flashed with tears, and my heart leaped within 
 me for a kindred heart. But there they were, as impassive 
 as death itself. Then I would retreat into a corner, and 
 cry like a fool, and wonder were all other boys as unhappy 
 and lonely and uncared for as myself, and were all other 
 fathers and mothers such stocks and stones as mine ap- 
 peared to be. There was not a single creature in the whole 
 house with one human sympathy; for whom I cared, or 
 who cared for me, except indeed a black named Jupiter, who 
 often comforted me when he saw me weeping, and in his 
 own wild way made we weep more still, for I knew that he 
 pitied me, and this caused my tears to flow forth afresh. 
 During my whole boyhood, or at least as much of it as I 
 passed in this catacomb, I never remember to have heard 
 an honest, hearty burst of laughter, or one merry song from 
 the lips of our domestics. A cold chain of depression 
 seemed to be thrown over the spirits of all; they went
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 41 
 
 through their work like automata. Perpetual silence 
 reigned. My father, glum, gloomy, taciturn as a marble 
 statue, chilled every one into torpidity ; my mother did not 
 dare to let her natural spirits flow forth, but curbed them 
 until she visited abroad, when they ran loose, and, I fear, 
 turbid. And every night we had prayers but here I must 
 stop. The recollection of this dreary farce, for such it was, 
 makes me perfectly sick at heart. 
 
 What wretched things our breakfasts were ! My father 
 sat with a pile of papers beside him, over which he was 
 busily engaged. There were mortgages, leases, bills, and 
 bonds, and promissory notes, and all sorts of securities for 
 money, wherein he held imprisoned the souls of debtors ; 
 noble lords and mighty commoners. These he contemplated 
 with his pale eyes and yellow smile, as God might contem- 
 plate a Paradise filled with beautiful, happy spirits. They 
 were his all; his world, his belief, his faith, his life, his 
 religion. The stout oak boxes in which they were secured 
 by double and treble locks were duly opened ; the rich 
 securities for gold that increased itself twenty-fold as every 
 year revolved, were drawn forth and contemplated with an 
 ever new feeling of delight; gorgeous visions of money, 
 money, money, arose in the mind of the covetous man; 
 and he seemed like Jupiter seated on Olympus, and revel- 
 ling in the consciousness of strength and power. Lady 
 Mary sat opposite, and served him with his chocolate, 
 herself as silent as her lord ; dreaming, I suppose, of new 
 conquests or new lampoons. Between them was the writer 
 of this, scarcely daring to lift up his eyes. To intrude 
 upon this awful silence would be like the crime of him of 
 old, who broke in upon the Sacred Mysteries, and was torn 
 in pieces for his pains. The bleeding features of Medusa 
 had not a more freezing effect than my father's presence ; 
 if, like Midas, all that he touched was changed into gold, 
 like the head of the Gorgon, all that he looked at was
 
 4:2 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 petrified into cold stone. Yet all this exquisite rapture 
 about his money and its quick increase was not without 
 certain drawbacks. Truly did the wise Saxon of old say, 
 no joy without alloy a sentiment for which I can scarcely 
 suppose that he travelled to pagan Rome to steal it, though 
 the sage Lucretius delivers it to us in other and more 
 poetical language when he says that " even out of the midst 
 of pleasure's fountain, something bitter will arise." This 
 you, my dear sir, have probably yourself experienced, and 
 why should not our Saxon ancestors ? Nor do I suppose 
 that there lives a single man at this moment whose own 
 heart has not taught it to him as a sad truth. I know, 
 indeed, that Miss Jones felt it, when she gave herself, sweet 
 pretty cherub, and sixty thousand pounds to Saltash of the 
 household troops, and found in a little time that the fasci- 
 nating young Phoebus, who had appeared to her dazzled 
 imagination something only just beneath an angel of 
 heaven, was a heavy, stupid, sottish, self-loving fool, who 
 cared for nothing on earth but stuffing his own paunch, 
 and perfuming his own hair, and curling his big whiskers, 
 and making love to all the silly nursery maids he met. 
 And I know also that Lord John Apollo, who flew into the 
 country, disgusted with Mayfair beauty, and sought in a 
 sequestered hamlet in Shropshire for youth, innocence, and 
 virgin purity, and found it, as he thought, under a very 
 plain cottage roof, was rather amazed in a few months to 
 discover that his sweet Amanda, who had appeared the 
 most fairy-like, amiable, and artless of all rustic nymphs, 
 was as cold, vain, selfish, tricky, and false hearted as the 
 finest fashionable siren on the town. No wonder, then, 
 that the Honorable Edward Wortley Montagu was not 
 exempt from trials, and felt, like Alexander the Great, that 
 he was but a mortal man, after all. 
 
 And he had them. Such trials ! alas ! that it should 
 be said of the owner of thirty thousand pounds per annum.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 43 
 
 If rich, miserly men had only money to receive, what a 
 splendid sphere this earth would be for them! But, ah 
 me ! in this world we not only get, but we have to give 
 money. This is the bitter pill the poison in our golden 
 cup. 
 
 My father's life journey, therefore, was by no means 
 amid roses there were several nasty thorns in his path, 
 which bored him immensely. Had he been single, he would 
 have been all right. He could have passed all his days 
 with Addison or Congreve, at Wills' or Button's ; and all 
 his nights with Steele at the theatre, for which he could 
 have got a free admission. But he had a wife, unhappy 
 man ! with a thousand grasping wants, passions, feelings, 
 emotions, pleasures, that must be gratified, or if they were 
 not, why then the world must come to an end, and where 
 would he be ? For my lady never forgot that she was a 
 duke's daughter, and though that was to some extent a 
 feather in his cap, yet did it entail further and greater 
 expenses than if she had been the child of a simple com- 
 moner, a poor unknown devil, whom the Rev. Mr. Jacob 
 would despise. As a bachelor, a pleasant suit of chambers 
 would have suited him admirably ; a slight flirtation with 
 one of Gibber's actresses, that would not have cost very 
 much, would have sufficed when he was melancholy ; but as 
 a husband and father, an equipage, servants, an imposing 
 mansion, and all the other expensive appendages of his 
 position were absolutely needed, and sorely did they all 
 grate against his philosophy. However, as he had com- 
 mitted the egregious folly of marriage, and as he was 
 bothered with these abominable consequences incident to 
 it, he resolved to make the best of his position, and to 
 pinch, starve, screw, and save in every conceivable way, so 
 that he might make the greatest appearance with the least 
 possible expense. And it was this pinching, starving, 
 screwing, and saving which made the rich man's life as
 
 44 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 wretched as a toad's in a hole nay, probably more so, for 
 I believe the toad is content, but Mr. Edward Wortley 
 Montagu, senior, was not content. He had great moments 
 of joy, indeed, and those were when he received money, 
 which he got in bundles and bundles ; but to make up for 
 these Elysian moments, there were others of great unhap- 
 piness, and these were when he had to disburse small 
 portions of these very bundles in the payment of his just 
 debts. 
 
 " Madam," he would say, " here is another milliner's bill 
 am I never to have done with paying for your cursed 
 folly and extravagance? The last was let me see not 
 two months ago, and I had then to pay one hundred and 
 twenty-nine pounds three shillings and fourpence. Here 
 is one to-day in which I find seventeen pounds charged 
 for a ball dress, and six pounds ten for one of those silly 
 turbans that make you look so hideous. Then I paid 
 Flash, the Jew crayon painter, fourteen pounds for a very 
 ugly likeness of yourself, drawn, I think, when you had 
 the jaundice ; and Flimsy, the toy moji, sixty-seven pounds 
 for some frippery, which I suppose you think sets you off 
 like a sovereign queen. Then, madam, you have a dentist 
 though I don't know what for, as he cannot preserve your 
 teeth and a doctor, and an apothecary, and a nurse, and 
 a shoemaker, and a hosier, and a seamstress who never 
 seems to have done with mending and making, and a 
 plumasier though what you want with the peacock's 
 feathers except to cover over your jackdaw appearance, I 
 know not and a glover ; fifteen pounds four in one quarter 
 of a year for gloves, and a perfumer, (I don't think cos- 
 metics become you,) and a couple of lazy trollops who call 
 themselves your maids ; and then you have a stock-broker, 
 and a corn-cutter, and the devil knows what besides, so 
 that I am fairly pillaged by the train of robbers that you 
 feed. You should remember that when you came to me
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 45 
 
 with only your smock, you never hinted that I was to pay 
 so dearly for the pleasure of giving you my name." 
 
 Lady Mary would remain silent. She feared no one in 
 the world but one man, and this was my father. He had 
 thoroughly broken in and cowed her. She was tamer than 
 a cat before him. 
 
 Then he would resume in the old strain 
 
 " Here is Timms, writes up from Twickenham that one 
 of the cows is dead; that is a loss of twenty pounds. 
 What shall I do ? I shall be beggared at this rate among 
 you. And there is a new roof wanted to the stable, and 
 one of the doors has come away from the piggery, and the 
 scoundrels still continue poaching, and one of my best 
 dogs was poisoned last week. But you have no sympathy 
 for all this you have no more feeling than a sow. You 
 think only of your balls and beaux. I thought you 
 were too old for such nonsense. You remind me of the 
 proverb, madam, ' Many a fool have I seen, but an old fool 
 like this never.' And what the deuce good is Lord Hervey 
 to you? And the Duke of Wharton why, he makes you 
 his public laughing-stock. 'Old Moll,' he says, 'thinks I 
 care for her ; I should as soon think of caring for old Noll.' 
 And then he drinks damnation to the Protector, and saj^s, 
 ' The king shall have his own again.' Do you know, 
 madam, that I have not had a tailor's bill myself for the 
 last three years, while you are dressed up every week in 
 new finery? And I could restock my farm for half the 
 money that you spend in Japanese ogres and four-footed 
 demons in porcelain. I shall be beggared by you in the 
 end, I know. Then there is this young scoundrel, a true 
 imp of your own breeding. (This, gentle reader, referred 
 to me.) I find he is perpetually flinging stones and break- 
 ing windows. I have had to pay five glaziers' bills for 
 him in the last three weeks ; this shows your careful 
 training of him. But I suppose he will come to the
 
 46 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 gallows. He has ridden two ponies to death ; he knocked 
 down a pedlar, and spoilt his box of goods, for which I 
 had to pay three and tenpence damages ; he has run up 
 a bill at the baker's for sweet cakes, which will soon bring 
 him under the clutches of one of your blood-sucking 
 apothecaries, and there will be a long account sent in. 
 How the devil, madam, can any fortune stand up against 
 this ? Only that you save three hundred a year out of the 
 five hundred which the Chancellor allows you for keeping 
 your lunatic sister, I don't know where we should be. 
 You look as if you thought my bonds and speculations 
 produced thousands. Well, they certainly do ; but then 
 they ought to produce tens of thousands, and I don't see 
 what benefit I gain, if, while I make money with one hand, 
 you and this imp lavish it away with another. Hencefor- 
 ward, madam, it is my command that you spend only a 
 hundred a year on Lad} r Mar, and save all the rest ; indeed, 
 I don't see why j^ou cannot support her well for a guinea 
 a week, for as she lives in the garret here, there is no house- 
 rent or servant's wages, and surely that is enough to clothe 
 a mad woman." 
 
 Then the house steward would be called, and addressed 
 as follows : 
 
 "Wilkins, I fear you are a regular rogue. I have been 
 overhauling some bills, and I find I am cheated right and 
 left. There is coals thirty-five pounds fourteen shillings 
 and sevenpence. Why the house must be as hot as hell 
 with all these fires. What do you mean, sir, by letting the 
 servants go on in this way ? Do you suppose I am made 
 of money ? I certainly should be so to satisfy such gross 
 extravagance. Then I find a butcher's bill, one hundred 
 and fifteen pounds two shillings and sixpence halfpenny. 
 How is this ? Where, when, why, how, was all this meat 
 eaten ? It is enough to feed a regiment. I suppose all the 
 Vagabonds in the neighborhood dine at my expense. And
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 47 
 
 how much of this goes into your own pocket as percentage ? 
 You're a rogue, sir, and you look like an extravagant one. 
 Have I not told you over and over again that I will not 
 allow the servants to cram and stuff at this rate ? Why, 
 they live on venison, I suppose venison and claret ; noth- 
 ing else will satisfy their nasty bellies. There is a beer 
 bill, forty-seven pounds nine shillings. Is all this gone in 
 beer ? The servants must be always drunk ; and you, sir, 
 look as if you were drunk at this moment. No wonder I 
 am pillaged this way, when the person who ought to over- 
 look these villains is himself guzzling from morning till 
 night. Do you know what the chandler's bill comes to ? 
 seventy-eight pounds thirteen shillings and elevenpence 
 farthing. Soap and candles. I would contract to supply 
 a whole barrack with both for that sum. Leave the room, 
 sir, and go at once to every one of these ruffians and 
 deduct five and twenty per cent, from their bills and pay 
 them, and bring me back the receipt. 
 
 " And now, madam " turning to Lady Mary " what 
 are you going to do for the day ? Intent on gadding, I 
 suppose ? Gad where you like, but don't lay out money. 
 I will stand any of your follies, madam ; but I will not 
 stand this. You know your father will not give us a 
 penny ; he spends it on his mistress. It is j r our duty, then, 
 as .you came to me penniless, to make up for it in thrift. 
 But I may as well preach to a deaf man as to talk to you 
 of saving. Have you considered what I said about your 
 sister? She can live splendidly on a guinea a week. Let 
 her have a mutton-chop or two now and then ; fish is cheap 
 and wholesome; she can occasionally have a pudding. 
 Let her drink water, for this cools the brain. Any fer- 
 mented liquor will only kill her. Now, madam, can you 
 not supply her well with these articles for five or six shil- 
 lings a week? Her clothes, I suppose, will be ten pounds 
 a year ; her washing about as much. What more can she
 
 48 ED1TARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 want ? Oh, a servant. Well, have we not a horde of lazy 
 servants ? What can she require a servant for ? Her 
 apothecary's bill ought not to be more than a guinea or 
 two ; indeed, she will not want any drugs at all, if you feed 
 her on plain, wholesome food. Thus, madam, you might 
 save four hundred and fifty pounds a year, which you could 
 have for your own pleasures I mean your own pin money, 
 without making these everlasting demands on me, which I 
 am resolved I will no longer satisfy. Then why don't you 
 win from Wharton? That is the least you may do to 
 repay yourself for his laughter. I am sure your skill at 
 cards is deep enough; and the fool is spending all his 
 money on worse foibles than these. What good is he to 
 you, unless you win his gold ?" 
 
 These, the reader will say, were wretched scenes. Indeed, 
 they were ; yet they were of daily occurrence. The lessons 
 of thrift perpetually dinned into Lady Mary's ears by a 
 husband who almost denied himself the common necessa- 
 ries of life, produced their effect, and she at length became 
 as miserly and grasping as her tutor. She hated to part 
 with a sixpence. She would hoard and hoard small sums, 
 and though constantly dunned for debts which she ought 
 to have discharged long ago, she could not induce her hand 
 to open her purse strings, but put off the wretched creditor 
 until he was tired of asking, and often gave up the debt in 
 despair or disgust, or forgetfulness, if it were a small sum. 
 This, I believe, is a trick with many fine people ; for trades- 
 men in a large way of business cannot constantly be 
 examining their books for small balances overdue; or if 
 they can, it is not worth their while to send half a dozen 
 times as many miles for these wretched items. Thus they 
 are eventually forgotten or abandoned, and the miser finds 
 himself at the year's end some four or five pounds richer, 
 whereat he hugs himself with joy, and resolves to cheat 
 twenty other tradesmen in the same way for the next
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 49 
 
 twelve months out of small sums. So it goes on, and at 
 the end of twenty or thirty years he has gained by dirty 
 plunder of this kind perhaps four or five hundred pounds, 
 which is carefully stowed away, with all his other ill-got 
 savings, until gaunt Death walks in and bears him off as 
 ruthlessly as a hawk snaps up a sparrow, or the lordly 
 gamecock picks a grub from the dunghill ; and his heir, 
 finding this five hundred among the rest, gives it to some 
 procuress, or spends it on a single cast of faro, and it 
 goes at once to the devil, where its first owner had preceded 
 it, and its new master will probably follow. 
 
 Being thus perpetually tormented about economy, and 
 having dinned daily into her impatient ears the necessity 
 of saving, Lady Mary was obliged to get money for her 
 pleasures how she could ; for she had a truly ducal set of 
 passions, which craved to be fed, and were very indignant 
 when they could not be gratified. She had already half 
 starved poor Lady Mar, and out of the five hundred 
 pounds set apart for her support, at least saved four. This 
 was very well, but ducal appetites need something more 
 than this paltry food. She then took to gambling, and as 
 she did not much care what she did, she won immensely 
 for a short time ; until at last people began to suspect that 
 there was more than met the eye in this uncommon amount 
 of good luck, and the wise declared off accordingly, leaving 
 only the young fools to be her antagonists, who were glad 
 to lose their money to a wit, a fine lady, and a duke's 
 daughter. But this was, after all, only a precarious re- 
 source, so she began to dabble in the stocks, and here her 
 acquaintance with Craggs was of great advantage to her. 
 This fellow's father had been a common pander to the Duke 
 of York or any other great lord who would pay him, and 
 as he did not lack shrewdness, he scraped up a vast deal 
 of money, which he freely expended in the education of his 
 only son, hoping to see him Prime Minister, perhaps ; at
 
 50 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 all events, high in the administration of this happily gov- 
 erned land. And he succeeded in his wish. Young Craggs 
 was handsome, and with a good, porter-like person. Young 
 women about the Court took a liking to him ; he had great 
 calves, a broad back, a body like an Irish chairman, and 
 was, moreover, not very choice about trifles ; and owning 
 a seat in Parliament, he absolutely became one of his Ma- 
 jesty's principal secretaries of state, to the wonder of all 
 who remembered the unhallowed trade of his revered father, 
 but not at all to the astonishment of those who were be- 
 hind the scenes, and knew the pliancy of the young gen- 
 tleman, and his convenient subserviency to such people 
 as Kendal and Kilmansegg. This man my Lady Mary 
 greatly courted. Alas ! do not blame her. Did not Pope, 
 and Swift, and Harley, and the King, and two hundred 
 members of Parliament, and fifty or sixty heaven-born 
 children of the Upper House, with stars, garters, ribbons, 
 and long pedigrees, do the same? Why, then, pour all 
 the vials of wrath upon a weak woman? But I know 
 you will not ; you are too good-natured ; you yourself de- 
 spise a lord and right honorable, but you have mercy on 
 those who adore and kneel before them. Lady Mary 
 courted him, then, and as Craggs was always buying and 
 selling, and scheming and speculating, and possessed, as a 
 Cabinet Minister, means of knowledge such as no other 
 person had, he was usually successful in his stock exchange 
 commerce, and they to whom he gave hints were successful 
 also. Was it wrong? Well, I don't know. The world 
 agrees to say yes, and I suppose the world is right ; but I 
 shall not enter into the question. Suffice it to say, if it 
 was wrong, it was pleasant. Yes, by Plutus ! pleasant in 
 the extreme. For show me the parallel on earth of that 
 ecstatic joy which, like Venus from the ocean, is born out 
 of cent, per cent.; the rapture with which I, who have 
 invested a thousand pounds, suddenly find myself, without
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 51 
 
 any care, or thought, or trouble, or toil, the happy master 
 of five thousand guineas, all bright, golden, shining, beau- 
 tiful as God himself. Talk of the wedding-day and suc- 
 cessful love, and the joy of an heir, and the rational delight 
 felt and experienced at your rich father's sudden death, and 
 the triumph of a successful speech in Parliament, and the 
 rapture of intoxication born out of ambrosial Burgundy, 
 and the joy one feels when his shrew of a wife runs away 
 with a wealthy simpleton who can pay three thousand 
 pounds in damages, and the ecstatic dreams of Quixotism, 
 and the glorious uprising of a blessed spirit into the light 
 of Paradise, and the white-robed seraphs of the celestial. 
 All these, I suppose, are very fine ; but is there one man on 
 earth who would be donkey enough to barter these for the 
 transporting bliss which that happy mortal feels who, 
 having given twenty thousand guineas to his broker, wakes 
 up next day and finds himself owner of a plum yes, a 
 plum value one hundred thousand solid pounds. 
 
 So felt and thought Lady Mary Wortley Montagu so 
 felt and thought that lively Frenchman, Monsieur Achille, 
 Hannibal, Caesar, Charlemagne Ruremonde, my lady's 
 dark-eyed friend and lover. For he was both. What is 
 the good of denying it ? Ruremonde was master of ten 
 thousand pounds ; when, or where, or how acquired, only 
 Heaven knows, and no doubt it was registered above in 
 some awful book. But that he had it was certain ; that he 
 was a vain, volatile, conceited fool was equally matter of 
 mathematical demonstration. He was a small, fiery man, 
 with a big nose, ferocious, flashing eyes, a terrible big 
 moustache ; he dressed with great elegance, had a fine taste 
 in perfumes ; was ringed, curled, ringletted, scented, and 
 even washed to perfection. He fell in love with Lady 
 Mary. He was a Frenchman, and had but to whistle after 
 any woman, and she was his, so he believed but like many 
 another frail mortal, he was deceived by his self-love. My
 
 52 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 lady fooled him to the top of his bent ; she turned him 
 inside-out, like an old glove. She had no serious notion 
 of breaking the seventh commandment with a Frenchman. 
 The thing was absurd. A Frenchman dare to lift his eyes 
 to her ? Ridiculous ! 
 
 She wrote Ruremonde letters that drove him mad. Here 
 was a lovely woman dying for him only she couldn't get 
 away. She sent him notes that almost set fire to the paper ; 
 they certainly burned up the small remnant of brains which 
 poor Ruremonde possessed, and lo ! he was utterly lost 
 and frenzied. Oh, how she loved him ! How she adored, 
 idolized, worshipped his dear image ! But alas ! flight was 
 impossible flight with him, her soul's darling, the treasure 
 of her eyes, the Adonis among mankind, the chevalier sans 
 peur et sans reproche. Ruremonde was distracted. What 
 was to be done ? Should he shoot Montagu ? He meditated 
 it a long time. The fate of Count Konigsmark's friends, 
 who had some time before performed that kind office for 
 Tom Thynne, (Tom o' ten thousand,) butchering him like a 
 pig in Pall Mall, rather deterred our valorous friend. Yet I 
 think he would have risked it, had he been quite certain of 
 my lady ; but, as he was not, why, he trusted to the chapter 
 of accidents. Meanwhile, Lady Mary was all sympathy, all 
 soul, all anxiety about Ruremonde. He occupied her 
 thoughts night and day he was her dream, her passion, 
 &c. How could she serve him ? Oh, lucky thought ! 
 There was Mister Craggs her right honorable acquaint- 
 ance and associate. She would invest his money ; she 
 would make it double, treble, quadruple nay, she would 
 make it reproduce itself twentyfold. Was not Craggs 
 Secretary of State, and did he not know what was what, 
 and did he not make the fortune of Johnny Gay and fifty 
 others who confided in him ? Why should he not do the 
 same for Lady Mary's dearest and most trusted friend ? 
 Aye, indeed, why should he not ?
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 53 
 
 And the Frenchman absolutely gave my mother five 
 thousand pounds, and it was all lost, gone, swallowed up, 
 no one ever knew what became of it gone, though Craggs 
 had advised and counselled, and revealed secrets which by 
 oath he ought not to have revealed. So Ruremonde raved 
 like a madman, there were frightful scenes and frightful 
 letters, and he threatened to show her sweet billets to her 
 husband, and she threatened to have his throat cut by the 
 right honorable Lord Stair, and there was nothing but fire 
 and wrath and fury and revenge between this amiable pair. 
 How it was settled in the end I know not. My father, it 
 was supposed, never bothered his head about it. I believe 
 my lady disgorged two thousand pounds, but the other 
 three were lost irretrievably. Ruremonde, I fancy, went 
 mad. At all events, he was never afterwards heard of. I 
 think it cured him of conceit. One can't make love to a 
 duke's daughter without paying the piper handsomely for 
 such a privilege. The few who were in the secret laughed 
 at him for a dupe, but my lady dreaded to the last moment 
 of her existence that he would some day turn up and tell all 
 to her husband. What if he had ? Was it not that worthy 
 gentleman's own fault ? Was it not the legitimate end of 
 all his screwing, scraping, saving, and pinching ? I sup- 
 pose he must have heard something of it, but he was 
 discreetly silent if he had. What was it to him? His 
 wife had got three thousand pounds clear profit out of this 
 transaction, and only lost what she did not value, nor he 
 regard. Pope, also, who was now one of our dearest friends, 
 heard some tittle tattle about it ; but he was too well bred 
 to mention a syllable of the matter to the profane vulgar 
 at large. It was only in after years he alluded to it in the 
 line "Who starves a sister and denies a debt." Every 
 one then knew who he meant, and everybody laughed and 
 sneered when my lady's back was turned, but when she 
 was present face to face, they all shook hands with her, 
 4
 
 54 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and smiled, and simpered, and flattered, as if she were the 
 sweetest vestal since the days of Rhea Sylvia. 1 Eng- 
 land ! England ! thou art the land of honesty and truth 
 and frankness ; yet have I seen more humbug, falsehood, 
 and hypocrisy practised in one day within thy golden isle, 
 than in a month in France, Spain, or Italy, or even in the 
 subtle Orient itself. But perhaps I ought not to avow this. 
 It looks unpatriotic. I know that it will be called a ras- 
 cally lie. Well, so be it. 
 
 CHAPTER T. 
 
 FROM all these pleasing incidents, it may be seen that 
 my life was horribly wretched. Oh ! how I longed for 
 sympathy for one bright beam of love, for one sweet, 
 fond smile under whose soft and genial influence my heart 
 might bud in flowers. But no smile, though I looked for 
 it morning, noon, and night. I had a vague remembrance 
 of some caresses which my mother gave me while I was yet 
 in petticoats. I could vividly recollect those bright eyes 
 beautified with the maternal gleam of warm affection. Her 
 long and silken hair fell over my cheeks and brow, as she 
 kissed and pressed me to her breast ; her face assumed the 
 likeness of an angel ; her smile dwelt still within my soul, 
 like a faint dream of Paradise. But all this was gone, and 
 gone, I feared, never to return. As I grew up, her demon- 
 strations of love became fainter, and even still more faint, 
 until at last they disappeared forever. How I have lin- 
 gered near her, hoping for some gentle word ; how I have 
 looked into her eyes and yearned for one sweet sunbeam 
 of returning fondness ; how I have sought by every boyish 
 art to win her back once more to olden days when that 
 long and dearly cherished kiss was given, and all the
 
 BDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 55 
 
 mother sparkled in her look ; how I have listened at her 
 bed-room door to hear those tones that even still were 
 melody to my ear, dreaming that they may happily breathe 
 of me; how I have lain awake at night, and wept, and 
 sighed, and thought how intensety I could love her if she 
 only cared for me in the least all these things, God and 
 my own breaking heart knew. The books I thought she 
 loved most, these I sought to master, and was proud and 
 happy when she found me poring over them ; the flowers 
 she regarded best I tended with all the skill that I owned, 
 so that they were ever free from dust or weeds or insects ; 
 and when she walked forth every bright parterre was fault- 
 less to the eye. No rewarding smile or word or token of 
 approval did I get. To Congreve she was all brightness, 
 life, and spirit; her silvery laugh sounded like divinest 
 melody ; but when I stood before her, scarcely daring to 
 look into those eyes for that sacred love after which I 
 pined, she was cold, severe, and silent. When Pope was 
 near, when Wharton was by her side, gazing at her with 
 his large and earnest eyes, how beautiful she appeared ! 
 All her genius shone out of her spirit-face; her features 
 glowed with animation ; her tongue spake in softest accents, 
 and she seemed a something more than earthly. When 
 the visitor departed a magic change came over her she 
 froze, as it were, into marble ; she grew cold, still, selfish, 
 unfeeling, capricious, and exacting. One reads in old 
 romances of a beautiful damsel discovered in a forest by 
 some brave errant knight ; she weeps, she prays, she smiles, 
 she fascinates. The gallant adventurer vows to devote his 
 life to her service ; she leads him to her bower or to some 
 fairie castle. Something in her appearance suddenly awa- 
 kens suspicion, and the noble knight clutches his good 
 sword Excel ibar within his mailed hand, and mayhap as 
 an additional precaution lifts up a prayer to God and the 
 Virgin. Scarcely has he done it, when a transformation is
 
 56 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 seen a mighty transformation indeed ; the virgin disap- 
 pears, and he sees only a venomous serpent looking at him 
 with deadly eyes, as Lucifer looked on Eve, and hissing 
 forth cold poison. Such was the difference between my 
 mother before her visitors, and my mother with her son. 
 
 Ah me, my friend, there are many, many of these snake- 
 women on the earth, and when I see them I know them as 
 if by instinct ; my blood congeals into stone, and I get 
 away as quick as I can, for they awaken gloomy reminis- 
 cences, and I feel as if in the presence of something 
 exceedingly deadly, slimy, and repellant. The depth of 
 ice within their hearts can no man fathom ; the force of 
 energy in carrying out their cold purposes even unto death, 
 cin no man exaggerate. 
 
 You may note them by the firm compressed lip when the 
 face is in repose, and the icicle-light that glazes over their 
 eyes as if with a transparent gauze, and the smile that 
 never blushes out of the heart, or returns again into that 
 impassioned fount, but is born of the external skin, plays 
 over it, and retires back into it, when its mechanical work 
 is done. All these women are poisoners in their hearts. I 
 believe that great numbers of them in reality kill their 
 husbands, or all who stand in their way but they can 
 smile over them even while they murder. The falsehood 
 of men I care not for. I am prepared for it, and I can 
 baffle it ; if I fail it is my own fault. But the falsehood 
 and selfishness and want of feeling in women seems so 
 utterly, so outrageously monstrous and unnatural, that 
 when I find and experience them, I feel like one who has 
 trodden unawares on some pestiferous serpent whose very 
 breath is ruin. I start back aghast and in despair. My 
 limbs quiver ; my face grows pallid ; my hairs stand erect. 
 I am horror-stricken and frightened in my very inmost 
 being. For woman was given to man to soothe, to soften, 
 to refine, to humanize into angelic beauty ; and when she
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 57 
 
 perverts this holy purpose how very dreadful must her 
 spirit appear before her Lord and Maker ! 
 
 I was not at this period able to fathom the secret of this 
 scornful indifference, but I think I can now do so. In the 
 first place all love between Lady Mary and her husband 
 had long since disappeared; with her love for him, or 
 whatever the feeling originally was, vanished also her love 
 of his son. In the second place she was immersed in so 
 many plots, pursuits, and occupations, that she really had 
 no time to give the softer feelings of her heart the least 
 chance of vitality. She was a leader in that heartless game 
 called "fashionable life," and this absorbs a great quantity 
 of a woman's time ; she studied very hard and spent a 
 great portion of every day among her books and papers ; 
 by no other means, I suppose, can a lady obtain and keep 
 the renown of being 
 
 " That dangerous thing, a female wit." 
 
 She was also perpetually devising new schemes and devices 
 to get money and to keep it when got; for my father's 
 wretched avarice was so all-absorbing that I verily believe 
 if he could have fed us on bran and littered us on straw he 
 would have been but too glad to do it ; and as he was 
 perpetually railing at her extravagance she was absolutely 
 forced into a life of meanness, shifts, falsehoods, equivoca- 
 tions, and dirty petty savings in order to preserve the 
 household circle from being a perfect hell upon earth. 
 Finally, she was so fond of admiration that she was per- 
 petually employed in inventing new limes to captivate the 
 wealthy or the witty ; from the first of whom she won their 
 money at the bassette table, and from the second their 
 applause in the journals or in song; so that she had really 
 no leisure to be good or kind or loving; and when a 
 woman's or a man's mind has all these various vanities 
 and employments daily and hourly pressing on it, probably
 
 58 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 you will not be surprised to hear that the result is, littla 
 feeling for any one except themselves. 
 
 If I dread one thing more than another in penning these 
 papers, it is that I may appear unnatural in my delinea- 
 tion of the parents of my being. But after a long and 
 painful meditation I must hazard this charge unless I de- 
 liberately violate the truth. Nothing, of course, could be 
 more easy than for me to avoid all reference to these miser- 
 able transactions ; to smother them up forever in night, 
 and to plunge into the details of my own life without any 
 lengthened reference to either Lady Mary or her husband. 
 By doing this I should avoid great censure and spare 
 my own heart. But would it be honest, just, and fair? 
 Would it even be right to myself, whose character has been 
 moulded, whose career to a great extent has been fashioned 
 by the training which I had at home, by the examples 
 which I there beheld, by the life which I saw there prevail ? 
 I am persuaded that it would not, and that even were there 
 no higher motive, self-defence would require from me this 
 anatomy. But there is a higher motive. Can I for one 
 moment suppose that Lady Mary and her husband were 
 the only parents who ever behaved so to their only son ? 
 It is impossible. On the contrary, have I not the best 
 reason for believing that there are hundreds and hundreds 
 of similar fathers and mothers who look upon their chil- 
 dren as nuisances and enemies ; freeze out of them in their 
 earliest youth every flowing sentiment of beauty and of 
 love, which holy Nature implanted in their souls. Yea, by 
 Allah, they are to be counted in thousands, and to such we 
 may attribute, in a great measure, the sad discordance 
 which prevails in all things; the exaggerated foibles and 
 vices and absurdities for which our young men are noted, 
 and the general tone of affectation, selfishness, and infidelity 
 which pervades every order of society. Therefore do I 
 write these things that parents and guardians may see
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 59 
 
 with their own eyes a vivid picture of themselves; and 
 may be startled by those incidents in the career of others 
 which they themselves daily repeat, but on which their self- 
 love has never let them cast an investigating glance. 
 
 When, therefore, friend and reader, thou censurest me 
 for my misanthropy, bear in mind that all my finest feel- 
 ings were frozen at their source while I was yet a child ; 
 when thou arraignest me for waywardness and wilfulness, 
 remember that from the first I never had a guiding hand, 
 or a loving eye to restrain me in the least; when thou 
 cavillest at my life misused, my talents thrown away, my 
 virtues perverted into vices, my passions let loose in tem- 
 pests on myself and others, pause and ask thyself what 
 right have I to blame this man ? How know I what I also 
 may not have grown to be, had I been nurtured like him ? 
 From the first he was an outcast from the heart and centre 
 of home ; he was thrown among servants ; he was exiled 
 from all affection, from all fond solicitude, from all the 
 melodious influences of sympathy and feeling. The most 
 vagabond order of existence seemed to him, and was, pref- 
 erable to his own home. Within his father's threshold 
 virtue never passed, nor meek-eyed charity, nor soft for- 
 giveness; but every thing he witnessed was hard, cold, 
 severe, and despicable. The guests whom he saw assem- 
 bled were selfish scoundrels or silly coxcombs ; they who 
 should have been purified by learning, or genius, or great 
 and shining talent, were merely intellect without God. His 
 father was a hardened miser, whose whole soul was in his 
 gold and in his guineas ; his mother was a vain woman of 
 fashion, who thought wit, gallantry, and scandal the three 
 sister graces of the earth ; his only sister was a mere idiot, 
 who never soared a thought above the existence of a grub; 
 his tutors were harsh, unfeeling wretches, who tortured 
 him body and soul ; he never heard a noble and generous 
 sentiment, but, on the contrary, was surrounded by a
 
 60 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 motley crew, who laughed at all religion and virtue, and 
 whose sole object was to get on in the world, no matter by 
 what means or by what resources. 
 
 Let me cite, for example, one of these fellows. Con- 
 greve, the colaborer with Pope in that honorable attempt 
 on my mother, which was followed up with so much perti- 
 nacity, and ended with so much wretchedness. Congreve 
 was what many would call a handsome man, but he never 
 seemed to be so in my eyes. There was an insufferable 
 pride in every puppy feature ; not the pride of nobleness, 
 or honor, or self-conscious dignity, but a low, foppish, 
 arrogant pride, founded on his figure, his eyes, his fine 
 dress, his reputation as a wit, his official place, his luxu- 
 rious bachelorhood, and the applause of some score of silly 
 women of high rank, who were half crazy after "darling 
 Will." To see him strut about the theatre was itself a 
 sight; it reminded one of the peacock, the basest of birds, 
 except for its plumage. To hear him lisp finely, and see 
 him look at } r ou with a supercilious, scornful air, as if }^ou 
 were unworthy to be his slave, and note in every word, and 
 look, and gesture, that himself alone was the object of his 
 incessant admiration, was one of the most trying ordeals 
 to which one's temper could be put. He would lounge into 
 a drawing-room, gorgeously dressed, and before a dozen 
 women who ought to be virtuous, and who certainly were 
 in the peerage books, exclaim 
 
 " Oh ! demme, I don't know what I shall do for all you 
 women. You won't give a man a moment's peace. Like 
 Orpheus, I shall be torn into five hundred pieces. There 
 are fifty contending for me at the same moment. By Gad ! 
 I shall retire into a forest, or into an uninhabited island. 
 I once thought the Rape of the Sabines was a true event ; 
 but by Gad I now think that it was the ladies themselves 
 who ran away with the Roman vagabonds." 
 
 After this abominable scene, he would retire and repeat
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 61 
 
 it somewhere else ; the ladies dear creatures being enrap- 
 tured with such high breeding and such choice wit. 
 
 Congreve was "the fashion," and could do almost any 
 thing. That he was an abandoned and dissolute rake, was 
 a matter of course. To be so was one of the main accom- 
 plishments of a fine gentleman of the period ; and the 
 women could not endure a man who lay under the horrid 
 suspicion of being virtuous- He had the run of the green- 
 rooms, and what they were, and are, and always will be, 
 every man about them knows, and everybody not about them 
 may guess. He raked until he got blind ; now with Mrs. 
 Bracegirdle, now with Nan Jallett, now with Madame Ber- 
 engeE, now with Madame Maryborough. His middle age was 
 cursed by the memorials of his excesses. Never shall I forget 
 a scene which once took place at Hampton Court Palace, 
 when I was but a child. It was a beautiful day in August, 
 and Lady Mary took it into her head to conduct me through 
 the gardens. We sauntered about for some time. Con- 
 greve joined us, and was elaborate in his politeness. He 
 made use of all his wit to charm, and finally prevailed on 
 Lady Mary to leave me near one of the fountains and walk 
 with him alone. My heart still burns with the rage I felt 
 when I saw them disappear. Instinct told me, poor boy 
 I was not more than eight years old, I think that he 
 meditated no good to my mother, but I knew nothing 
 farther. Every fibre was alive and hot with fury. I ran 
 in the direction which they had taken, but I could not find 
 them. I called aloud. Echo repeated my words, and yet 
 again I called, "Mamma! mamma!" In a few minutes 
 Lady Mary appeared ; she seemed in haste ; her hair was 
 in a slight disorder, and she hurried towards me. After 
 her followed Congreve, with a quick step, and he seemed 
 apologizing, beseeching, deprecating. She hurried on with- 
 out taking any notice of him, and when she came up to me 
 1 was amazed to find her kiss me; her face was flushed;
 
 62 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 she seemed agitated and feverish. Again I knew that 
 something wrong was meditated, and I looked at Congreve 
 with fury in my looks. He saw it, and gave me a bunch 
 of roses which he had gathered, and had already vainly 
 offered to Lady Mary. I took them and flung them in his 
 face; he affected to smile, but there was rage and the 
 venom of a devil in his false smile. 
 
 He spoke to her in French, a language which I knew 
 not. I scanned him closely, and endeavored to penetrate 
 into his meaning with my eyes. His language was sup- 
 plicating ; his demeanor obsequious in the extreme ; he 
 seemed entreating pardon for some involuntary offence. 
 He spoke earnestly ; she affected for a period not to listen ; 
 but the poison gradually stole into her ears and won her 
 heart. She even answered him, a thing which she had 
 first positively refused to do. I could see a smile of vil- 
 lanous triumph in his eyes. Again he led her away under 
 an avenue of trees, and I was left alone. They had not 
 been out of sight many moments, when I felt as if envel- 
 oped in horror ; my heart again swelled with rage ; lava 
 fire seemed to thrill through me. I was under an unknown 
 fever. I was under the influence of a mighty magnetic 
 spell. A consciousness of evil again smote me, as if with 
 the wing of a whirlwind, and I burst into a torrent of 
 tears. How terribly is all this graven on my memory ; 
 now, after the lapse of more than half a century. My sobs, 
 my loud cries were again re-echoed, and Lady Mary re- 
 turned as before ; but now she was filled with anger. Con- 
 greve again followed, and I could see his face pale with 
 rage, or disappointment, or repulse. Lady Mary addressed 
 me harshly, but I clung to her robe, and kept a firm hold 
 of her. I entwined myself among the folds of her dress ; 
 she sought to loose me, but I would not let her go. Con- 
 greve used entreaties, threats, endearments, and finally, 
 even force, but I kicked at him with all my strength, and
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 63 
 
 the beau's silk stockings bore vestiges of my toes. At 
 length a sudden cloud burst overhead, thunder pealed, and 
 lightning flashed, and rain fell in torrents, and Lady Mary 
 and myself returned home, without Congreve, whose escort 
 she positively declined, and who took his leave evidently 
 chagrined, if not enraged at something that had crossed 
 him. 
 
 This incident is slight, but I never can forget it. I have 
 lived it over again, while I penned the last few pages ; 
 every line and feature of it was reproduced before my 
 mind's 63-6. I can remember even the dripping of the rain 
 on a certain stone which Congreve put aside with his gold- 
 headed cane. I can remember the green leaves of a laurel 
 tree on which the drops flashed, and from which they re- 
 bounded against my face. I can remember the momentary 
 shelter which we took beneath a clump of trees, and my 
 own feeling of delight that the storm had come on, and my 
 ardent hope that the next lightning flash would strike ray 
 enemy dead at my feet. When he came near me I went to 
 the opposite side ; when he edged round again and sought 
 to speak to me, I retreated from his odious presence, and 
 got back to my old place. Why was he thus courting me 
 at this moment ? he who had never before condescended 
 even to look upon me ? My heart asked itself this ques- 
 tion ; and though I can now guess his motive, I was then 
 only a child, and could not fathom it in the least. He 
 offered me some apples, but I flung them into the road ; he 
 presented me with cakes, but I trampled them beneath my 
 feet. At length the temper of the man prevailed, and I 
 think he would have broken out with something savage, 
 but my mother or her presence restrained him. I saw him 
 many times again, at our own house and at the houses of 
 others ; but I always hated him from that day. I could 
 not endure his presence ; I looked at him with loathing, 
 and fled from him with aversion, until at length we grew
 
 64 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 open foes, nor did either mask his hate from the other. 
 When I heard he was dead I regretted it onty for one rea- 
 son, and that was that I had not driven a sword into his 
 heart. The grim envoy seemed to me to have cheated me 
 of that which belonged to me of right. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THOUGH the Rt. Hon. Edward Wortley Montagu grudged 
 every penny that he expended, and parted with a guinea 
 more sorrowfully than if it were his heart's blood, yet was 
 he nevertheless obliged by the abominable laws and cus- 
 toms of society to throw his doors open occasionally for 
 the reception of the most brilliant members of rank and 
 fashion, whom he entertained accordingly, and whom he 
 hated like fiends as they devoured his costly dainties and 
 guzzled his expensive wines. He could not help himself. 
 He and his lady wife were a'sked to various parties, dinners, 
 balls, suppers, breakfasts and masquerades. To refuse the 
 hospitable givers of these splendid entertainments would 
 have been to make them bitter foes ; to accept their invi- 
 tations entailed the dire necessity of a return in kind. Had 
 Mr. Montagu manfully resolved to live like a hermit and 
 do nothing but reside in a wood and accumulate money, 
 all this dreadful folly would have been avoided. But un- 
 happily for himself he could not well do this. He was a 
 member of parliament, and he did not like to give it up ; 
 he was a member of the high fashionable world of wits and 
 fops, and fine gentlemen, and he could not separate him- 
 self from such exalted intercourse without such a struggle 
 as he scarcely cared to endure; he was an aspirant for 
 ministerial dignity, and it was only Cincinnatus who was
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 65 
 
 taken from the plough. Nobody ever heard of any hermit 
 in England being put into the Cabinet, nor would he be so, 
 though he possessed all the virtues of Jesus Christ, all the 
 knowledge of Pythagoras, all the patriotism of Brutus, and 
 all the statesmanship of Solon and Lycurgus. Therefore 
 it was that my honored father still lived in Cavendish 
 Square, still accepted invitations from lords and ladies, 
 and still was forced in compliance with cruel custom to 
 give these lords and ladies what lawyers call a quid pro 
 quo. 
 
 Oh ! what scenes these were ! Horace it is, I think, or 
 some other of those Roman voluptuaries, who speaks of 
 certain debauches with ladies in loose purple robes and 
 golden clasps that were unclasped and rosy garlands, 
 and silver goblets, and soft couches, and I know not what 
 else perhaps it is well I do not know and he irreverently 
 calls them nights and suppers of the gods. But these 
 nights I suppose of my father were nodes csenseque diabo- 
 lorum, for not only were all the noble and right honorable 
 company fairly entitled to that name, but Mr. Montagu 
 himself endured such an agony of hell during the whole 
 entertainment that it might fairly be said that he was in 
 Tartarus itself, and enduring all the torment of that fabled, 
 fabulous or storied region, which ever name the truly Chris- 
 tian reader wishes to give it. Every fresh bottle that was 
 uncorked was a poisoned adder biting his soul ; every fresh 
 pie or pasty that was broken into by fair and delicate 
 hands plunged him into Hades ; every fragrant pine that 
 was sliced was a cup of venom which he was obliged to 
 gulp down with many a hidden grimace. With what a 
 hearty and sincere hatred he detested these odious harpies ; 
 how he wished that every bit and sup might choke them as 
 they sat ; how he cursed and swore at himself, as a fool 
 for yielding to the prevailing fanaticism of society, and 
 blindly following in the wake of an absurd fashion. This
 
 66 EDWAED WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 he did while the Saturnalia were going on. But next 
 morning he was serene again. He was now free for 
 another three months. The thing was over and done with. 
 His mind was at ease. He had performed his duty, and 
 no Englishman is expected to do more. The bills well 
 they must be paid, and they were paid with many a pang, 
 and blasphemy, and deduction ; and all went on as usual 
 until the next necessity of the same kind. 
 
 Let me sketch one of these charming entertainments. 
 I was at one, and only one. All the great people of Lon- 
 don were summoned ; all the fine women, all the battered 
 rakes, dukes, marquisses, earls, viscounts, barons, with 
 pedigrees oh I how long, and bodies oh 1 how diseased, 
 and consciences oh! how black with every kind of sin. 
 Did we descend to the vulgar tribe of baronets ? Well, I 
 believe there were a few, but we asked them simply because 
 we could not help it ; Walpole was there, but he was in- 
 vited not as baronet, but as prime minister. My father, 
 indeed, despised the whole crawling crew of little barons, 
 and as a general rule they are a contemptible body of raga- 
 muffins. However, there were some asked, and of course 
 they came. You will always find a baronet where there is 
 a prime minister. Half the peerage thronged our rooms ; 
 the other half that was in patriotic opposition was not 
 asked. The Duke of Wharton came drunk ; Lord Berke- 
 ley, for a miracle, came sober. Lord and Lady Pomfret 
 descended like a radiant vision of diamonds of the rarest 
 price. Lady Sundon hid her cancer by a fine shawl around 
 her throat. Lords and Ladies A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, 
 K, L, M and N, appeared in various costumes of red, white, 
 black, blue, grey, brown, orange, scarlet, azure, pink, green, 
 and crimson, set off with pearls, rubies, sapphires, ame- 
 thysts, opals, emeralds, and gold and silver. Lords and 
 Ladies 0, P, Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X, Y, Z, flashed and 
 fluttered in silk, satin, velvet, and cloth of gold; they
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 67 
 
 appeared in all the colors of the rainbow, and a great many 
 more that the rainbow never had ; their periwigs breathed 
 the sweetest essences of perfumed powder. Talk of Araby 
 the Blest or Sabaean odors pooh ! pooh ! Their necklaces, 
 buttons, girdles, earrings, rings, stomachers and coronets 
 glittered with all the jewels of the East, and their faces 
 shone with all the pigments and figments of the western 
 world. Nothing could be, indeed, more delightful than 
 the whole assembly ; though I should be very sorry to see 
 and smell the great majority of them just now, rotting in 
 their coffins and half eaten up by worms. I mean, of 
 course, such of them as did not die in the odor of sanctity, 
 and were not embalmed" in spice and frankincense, as all 
 noble and right honorable persons ought to be ; for these 
 earth vermin are odious to think of by all who have aristo- 
 cratic tastes or habits. For my own part I hope to be 
 burned on a pyre like a phoenix, and' so give the elements 
 the benefit of my remains stap my vitals ! 
 
 There they were, and oh ! how brilliant ! Talk of Para- 
 dise, prate of Elysium, brag of Valhalla, expatiate on 
 Yaikoontha, the Hesperides, Hy brazil, the Golden Islands, 
 the heaven of Indra, the gardens of Shedad or Mohammed 
 the whole thing would be absurd. Never was there seen 
 a more grand and gorgeous assembly. Lord Somers, the 
 chancellor, left the lady with whom he was living in open 
 defiance of the seventh commandment and came ; is it not 
 Horry Walpole who calls him " one of those divine men 
 who, like a chapel in a palace, remain unprofaned while all 
 the rest is tyranny, corruption and folly." Well, this 
 "divine man " was there, and the place was redolent of his 
 purity and divinity. His great curly wig flowed over his 
 heavy sensual face and great gloating eyes, and gave one 
 any thing but an idea of divineness. But hath not Horry 
 said it, and did not the king and parliament and twenty 
 writers of that lie called history, proclaim it in highways
 
 68 BDWAED WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and byways, and who shall breathe dissent ? Daniel Finch, 
 Earl of Nottingham, was there ; they called him " Dismal," 
 and a dismal old frog he was. Being too old for politics 
 he was making a sacrifice to God of the devil's leavings, 
 and had taken to theology. Earl of Suffolk was there, but 
 he I think was deranged, as most of the Howards are ; but 
 he did not bring his mad work called " Musarum Deliciae, 
 ideas supposed to be written two thousand years ago by 
 an Asiatic Poet," though I am glad to say he quoted 
 largely from it to all whom he accosted, and thereby added 
 greatly to the hilarity of the evening. In fact this noble 
 bard realized to the full his own frenzied description of a 
 beau, and I think I heard that profane wag Wharton 
 pointing him out to half-a-dozen women, and citing his own 
 grotesque verses descriptive of that wondrous creature 
 called a fop. They ran something in this way, and I print 
 them that they may be preserved, for I fear none of his 
 Lordship's works will ever reach " Prince Posterity." 
 
 Adorned with silks and a huge flaunting wig, 
 He proudly tramps and looks most vastly big; 
 Struts like an actor on the Gallic stage, 
 And boasts himself example of the age, 
 Though by his leave there should a difference be 
 Betwixt rude fops and these of high degree. 
 A lord in rich embroidery may shine, 
 Which for a ninny would be much too fine. 
 Yet let the saucy fop gold laces wear, 
 On him they will but tinsel-like appear. 
 And as the learned Erasmus says, an ape 
 An ape will be, though tissue clothe his shape ; 
 So Hewett for the beau may garments frame, 
 The value of his mind ie still the same. 
 
 Lord Macclesfield came up especially from Staffordshire 
 and figured among the party. He had been found guilty 
 of the grossest corruption, fined 30,000 and his name 
 erased, by the King himself, from the list of Privy Coun- 
 cillors ; but what was that ? It had been popularly said 
 at his trial before the House of Lords, that the county
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 69 
 
 of Stafford had produced the three greatest rogues and 
 scoundrels of the age, Jack Sheppard, Jonathan Wilde, 
 and Lord Macclesfield ; but what was that? A flea bite, 
 nothing more. Did it exclude him from fashionable soci- 
 ety? Oh, dear no! There he was, with plenty of money, 
 a peerage, and I don't know what ; certainly with plenty 
 of people ready and willing to flatter him as another Cato 
 of Utica, a Socrates wrongfully accused by Anytus, an 
 Aristides who was ostracised only because he was so just. 
 Lord Chief Justice Raymond, who was ready to hang any 
 man at the bidding of Walpole or the Bishops, was there 
 also, and a brave and noble magistrate he was. Any one 
 who looked into his eyes could see that they were intense 
 with roguery, sneaking, meanness, and servility; but what 
 of that? He was Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, 
 and so, good reader, if that thou canst read, I have no doubt 
 the wise public thought he was infallible, and he himself 
 believed he was an archangel. But the curse of God fell 
 upon him, as it usually does upon gentlemen of his order, 
 and after accumulating wealth all his life by the basest 
 means, and gaining his title by the most degrading arts, 
 he left both to his son, who dying without issue, the peer- 
 age became extinct, and what remained of the money went 
 to the dogs. 
 
 There was Lord King, the son of a salter in Exeter, who 
 even then exhibited marks of the paralysis under which 
 he subsequently died, and who bored everybody with his 
 absurd notions, which were as shallow as a rain puddle, 
 and not a bit more agreeable ; but he eat and drank on 
 them, as if he thought he could cheat the devil after a 
 life of chicanery, by a finale of fanaticism ; and there was 
 George Granville, Lord Lansdowne, who ran into the oppo- 
 site extreme and was said to have written a poem on the 
 crucifixion, in Hudibrastic verses, in which the narratives 
 of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John were pleasantly traves- 
 5
 
 70 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 tied a la Scarron. This noble lord took especial delight in 
 hunting poor King and Dismal about like their shadows, 
 and disgorging within their hearing some of the gay, licen- 
 tious, airy blasphemies which were so fashionable a sport 
 in the gallant era of Charles Stuart, the second of that 
 name, King of England, France, and Ireland, and strejiuous 
 Defender of the Christian Faith. There was the Earl of 
 Peterborough, who made you think of a comet, or a fire- 
 work, or a quill stuck full of mercury, so wild, erratic, and 
 eccentric' were all his proceedings, and I remember well 
 that one of his jests on this occasion was pinning the wig 
 of His Grace the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury to the 
 wig of that right reverend Father in God, the Lord Bishop 
 of London, as these two holy men sat discussing the ques- 
 tion of a pension on the Irish establishment, for one of the 
 King's cast-off mistresses ; and when they rose and moved 
 in opposite directions great was their dismay at finding 
 that they unwigged each other. 
 
 There was Charles Howard, Earl of Carlisle, Governor 
 and Captain of Windsor Castle, with the cock-up nose and 
 maudlin eye of all that breed ; and Kitty Sedley, Duchess 
 of Buckinghamshire, who fancied herself the off-shoot of 
 King James the Second. There was Tom Paget, who was 
 certainly insane, and Jack Hervey, whom Pope immortal- 
 ized as Fanny, Sporus, and I know not what else. He 
 wore his gold key as Vice Chamberlain to Her Majesty, 
 and talked smut to all the ladies of rank, so that I think 
 the old Duchess of Marlborough was not far from the mark 
 when she called him "the most wretched profligate man 
 that ever was born, besides ridiculous, a painted face, and 
 not a tooth in his head " or a truth in his heart, she 
 might have added. There was the Earl of Gainsborough, 
 who had just won a large wager by riding naked on a cow 
 through a village, to the great edification of his tenantry 
 and acquaintances, but not at all to his damage in high-
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 71 
 
 born society, or with the fair, fine women of the fashion ; 
 and there was Frances Thynne, Duchess of Somerset, a 
 short-nosed, swarthy, ugly woman, who thought herself a 
 poetess, and delighted to be drawn with a basket of flowers, 
 a shepherdess's crook, a crescent like Diana, or any thing 
 else absurd, extravagant, and as she supposed, romantic 
 and ideal. There was the Duke of Newcastle, better known 
 as Tom Empty, and the Earl of Northington, who spoke 
 the language of a costermonger ; and would no more use a 
 decent word when he could find an indecent one to express 
 his thoughts, than he would have gone to prayers on Sun- 
 day, or abstained from any of his usual vices at the request 
 of a parson who wanted a living, and so desired to appear 
 sanctimonious. There was the Duke of St. Albans, one of 
 the weakest of men, and the Duke of Manchester, one of 
 the meanest. That blundering blockhead Lord Falmouth ; 
 Lord Pembroke, who could scarcely write his own name, 
 and could certainly not read anybody else's; and Lady 
 Archibald Hamilton, who had an unmentionable place 
 about the palace, and filled Carlton House with so many 
 Scotch cousins that whenever Lord Chesterfield met any 
 one there whom he did not know, he bowed and said, 
 "Your humble servant, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton." But is 
 it necessary to give a catalogue of these noble and illus- 
 trious persons ? I think not. I leave it to the man who 
 makes up the fashionable column for the Gentleman's Maga- 
 zine, so called in irony, because I believe no gentleman yet 
 ever had any thing to do with it. 
 
 The conversation of these high-bred and accomplished 
 persons of quality had all the wit, humor, and variety which 
 might be expected from their antecedents. The politicians 
 in place got together, and devised traps for the -opposition 
 out of place; the bishops consulted about their next fat 
 dinner and jollification in mulled claret ; the lawyers con- 
 sidered what truckling course was most likely to advance
 
 72 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 them a step in the peerage, or get sinecures for their sons, 
 or commissions in the army or navy for their daughters. 
 The simple noblemen conferred about getting their wives 
 pensioned on the Irish establishment, which was then the 
 general receptacle of all the infamous who were poor, but 
 had blood. 
 
 " By my life," quoth Lord A to the Earl of B , 
 
 "your lordship is looking young again. You seem to 
 have renewed your youth like the eagles, and no one re- 
 joices more than I do at the manifest improvement in your 
 health." 
 
 " I am honored," replied the Earl, " by your lordship's 
 good wishes, and I certainly am glad to say that I have 
 not felt better for the last twenty years. I am pleased also 
 that I can return the compliment, for your lordship never 
 looked more vigorous." 
 
 Now the real thought in Lord A.'s heart was this, though 
 he did not choose to express it, but I could see it, for I 
 read it in his eyes." 
 
 "Here is that loathsome old voluptuary B. How ab- 
 surdly the fellow is dressed up. He apes the fashion of 
 youth, and no doubt fancies that he exhibits all the graces 
 of an Adonis, and is equally irresistible with the women, 
 while he is in fact uglier than Silenus himself. I must tell 
 the old booby I am glad, for his wines are excellent, and 
 his cook one of the best." 
 
 And the real answer that Earl B. ought to have made 
 was this, for no man knew the value and sincerity of Lord 
 A.'s friendship better than he did. 
 
 " This sneaking sponge is scheming for an invitation to 
 one of my little suppers, and I suppose I must ask him, 
 though he has grown so silly and decrepid of late that I 
 half fancy he will go off in a fit at one. Faith I hope he 
 may ; it would be a funny sight to see him kick his last. 
 He makes me think of the skeleton at the Egyptian feast,
 
 EDWARD WOKTLBY MONTAGU. 73 
 
 and if he changes into one at our next meeting, I shall 
 laugh heartHy." 
 
 "Ah! my dear Tom," says Lord C. to the Marquis of 
 D., " how delighted I am to see you. What news ? what 
 news ? How is the little Laura ?" 
 
 "Faith I" says the Marquis, "she was never better. 
 She, and I, and Jack Bellamy, and Fanny Flirtaway had 
 a glorious night of it last Wednesday. We all got drunk 
 as owls. You should have seen how Jack tossed and 
 tumbled like a posture master, till I thought the women 
 would have fallen into fits. For my own part I laughed 
 myself into convulsions." 
 
 "And what became of the harlequin?" 
 
 " Why after going through ten thousand evolutions, the 
 last more absurd than the one preceding it, the wine got 
 so completely the upper hand of him that he tumbled dead 
 drunk under the table ; we emptied all the heel taps over 
 him, and having baptized the fellow in choice Burgundy, 
 left him there." 
 
 "Exquisite exquisite. The spectacle must have been 
 one for gods. And how goes the affair with the For- 
 narina?" 
 
 " Why the unconscionable little Papist asks five thou- 
 sand pounds down, an annuity for her parents, a present 
 to the father confessor, and a commission in the Guards 
 for her youngest brother." 
 
 " Oh ! outrageous ! Was ever heard of such insolence ?" 
 
 " Certainly not, and that is the chief reason why I like 
 her so well. I have consented to all her terms except the 
 last." 
 
 " But if she persists on that point ?" 
 
 " Pooh pooh 1 she can't persist. By-the-by, have you 
 seen that ugly rat Rutland here to-night ? If there is anr 
 man I hate it is that fellow."
 
 74 
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " I have not seen him. I suppose he is your rival with 
 the Fornarina?" 
 
 " Why, yes yes ; the ungainly coxcomb is vain enough 
 to aspire to her ; but she laughs at him in the drollest way, 
 and throws me almost into hysterics by her mimicry of 
 his absurd grimaces. Only fancy, the fellow vows that 
 he will leave his lawful wife and go abroad with the For- 
 narina, offering her a cottage and himself by the Lake of 
 Como. She is willing enough to take the first, but the 
 last is worse than a bolus, and so Rutland is in despair." 
 
 "And what does his wife say?" 
 
 " Why, like a sensible woman, she consoles herself with 
 Lord Strut, and lets her liege lord blazon his folly as 
 widely as he likes." 
 
 Here the object of this amicable conference, Rutland him- 
 self, suddenly appeared a tall, ugly, thin man, resplendent 
 with the blue ribbon of the most noble order of the garter. 
 As he approached our witty acquaintances the faces of 
 both brightened with the most loving expression of refined 
 friendship, and the honorable marquis, who had just called 
 him " a rat," and so cordially avowed his hatred, ran up 
 to him, and shaking him by the hand cried out 
 
 " My dear duke, I am enchanted to see you here. How 
 is the charming duchess ? I cannot tell you how dis- 
 appointed I was at not meeting you t'other day at Court." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BUT I grow tired of this high life. True, it was the 
 Elysian Garden of Lady Mary, as it is of all such people. 
 Her husband used her as he used his parties, simply to 
 advance his own interests ; but what became of either her
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 75 
 
 body or soul did not enter much into his greedy thoughts. 
 He knew well the kind of people with whom he was living ; 
 she knew them also, but she went into this den of serpents 
 without the slightest heed or care as to what she was 
 doing ; and he let her do so without the least compunction 
 in his heart whether she conquered or was crushed in the 
 detestable battle that was waged between good and evil. 
 They met perhaps once a quarter. As a general rule my 
 father lived wholly in town, and my lady was banished to 
 Twickenham to do as she liked ; but when the era of balls, 
 dinners and parties was on, she was then brought to 
 Cavendish Square, to preside over his table, and play the 
 amiable hostess ; after which she was again scornfully dis- 
 missed to the banks of the Thames ; living there on a 
 stated allowance ; saving out of her sister's annuity ; and 
 doing the duty of an obedient drudge ; for resistance or 
 rebellion against Mr. Montagu never once seems to have 
 entered into her thoughts. Not that she wanted the will. 
 No, by the gods I that woman dared not. He held her by 
 some invisible iron chain. He was the master of her soul, 
 the despot of her destiny; and though she absolutely 
 loathed him, she trembled at his very name. He himself 
 vegetated in London on fifty or sixty pounds a year, and 
 never wrote to her, or seemed even to think that such a 
 person existed, except when quarter day came, and then 
 he was painfully reminded of her vitality. I often wonder 
 whether he hated or despised her most ; but I think the 
 latter was his predominant feeling. 
 
 Figure to yourself, this clever, handsome, passionate 
 woman, whom all other mortals of the male sex courted, 
 and all other goddesses of the female sex envied, thus flung 
 carelessly upon the world ; and if you can fancy the boiling 
 pit of Tartarus, with ten million conflicting damned souls, 
 you can then form some idea of the seething cauldron of 
 her heart. I don't say it was right in my father to treat
 
 76 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 his wife so, but he had his own reasons, and he was no 
 fool. I have no doubt he acted on the firmest conviction 
 that he was behaving properly ; and he was one of those 
 snake-blooded people who do not make up their minds to 
 an energetic course until after a long series of dubitations, 
 but who when they are resolved are as inflexible as cold 
 steel. 
 
 These meetings were like the clash of two ice-bergs ; 
 they parted without, on his side, even the decency of a 
 farewell ; though my lady always kept up appearances, and 
 smiled and shook hands with apparent fervor, which did 
 not deceive her lord, though I suppose she vainly hoped 
 it would. He never even affected to look her in the face, 
 but shunned her gaze as if it were something odious and 
 repulsive. Yet she complained not. She did not venture 
 even to remonstrate. In my own opinion he would have 
 acted much more mercifully if he had racked or bowstrung 
 her at once, according to approved Eastern fashion ; but 
 our rascally laws prevent this course and why ? Why, 
 that we may torment our women to death, and make their 
 entire lives a hell upon earth, instead of disposing of them 
 quickly, which is the benevolent Turkish mode. Such 
 favorites are women with the laws of England ; such cruel 
 powers are given to their husbands in that favored land. 
 
 I have described one scene with Congreve, the nature of 
 which the wise may conjecture. We saw little of him after 
 that. He got tired of what appeared to be a vain pursuit, 
 and took up with the mad Duchess of Marlborough, who 
 had her father's hot blood, without one particle of the cool 
 judgment which guided or restrained it. To her he left 
 his fortune, while his near relations starved in Stafford- 
 shire. Let me now paint another, and the last of these 
 meetings which I mean to describe. It was with Pope, who 
 still persisted in his folly, notwithstanding the repulse of 
 his dear friend. The world has often asked itself the
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 77 
 
 cause of these terrible feuds which afterwards raged so 
 violently between Lady Mary and the moral bard ? Many 
 suspected, many invented, none knew. But it shall be no 
 longer ignorant. I was an accidental witness of the thing, 
 and here it is developed and detailed. 
 
 Suppose yourself at Twickenham, reader of a future 
 century, in the golden autumn of 1724. We inhabit a 
 pretty villa by the river side ; the swans are sailing up and 
 down ; the silver clouds float lazily over the blue arch ; the 
 sun is bright with eastern splendor ; the air is balmy with 
 the breath of flowers. My father is, as usual, in London ; 
 he has not seen my mother for I know not how many days, 
 or weeks, or perhaps months, though she has incessantly 
 sought him in Cavendish Square. Pope has written her an 
 enraptured letter, and has promised us the distinguished 
 honor of a visit. My lady is in her best brocade, awaiting 
 him in the garden, and I am playing with some china 
 monsters in a room that overlooks the sparkling river. 
 Suddenly I see a small, distorted man, with a lean, haggard, 
 monkey face, blearing eyes, scarcely any hair, a thin, 
 straight nose, and coarse mouth, striding with a long and 
 splay foot up the walk ; his back is bent, his body crooked, 
 his fingers long and like a vulture's claws, his smile satiri- 
 cal, hollow, and sardonic, and his whole appearance that of 
 an obscene bird of ill omen. He is dressed in a black velvet 
 suit, and leans on a gold-headed cane. This is Alexander 
 Pope, the great laureate of the fashionable world, the 
 Horace of the eighteenth century, the ape-Apollo of the 
 fair and frivolous. 
 
 My lady went to meet him, and received him with an 
 easy grace. He bowed with all the air of a polished cour- 
 tier of the highest fashion ; his hat was in his hand, his 
 head bent, and his eyes expressed respect and deference. 
 A faint smile passed over his pale features, and after a brief 
 parley they approached the room where I was playing.
 
 78 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Suddenly, by some mischance, I tumbled over one of my 
 lady's most beloved monsters ; the image fell, and the head 
 was knocked off. I almost heard the footsteps at the door. 
 Dreading a scene such as I had more than once witnessed, 
 and a well-boxed pair of ears, such as I had more than once 
 felt, I picked up the broken china, and, with a heart beat- 
 ing quickly, took refuge behind a painted screen, which 
 masked one of my lady's favorite corners. Scarcely had I 
 ensconced myself than the door opened, and Lady Mary, 
 accompanied by the cringing, flattering dwarf, whom all 
 England delighted to honor, made her appearance. He 
 had evidently squeezed her hand, or made some other 
 overture, for I could see her face was more suffused than 
 usual. He led her to a sofa, and seated himself beside her. 
 He was silent for a few moments, and then began as fol- 
 lows, in a low and deep voice, which bore at least the sound 
 of earnestness. I could see and hear from my nook ; the 
 scene impressed itself indelibly on my mind. Even then 
 I began to look with hatred on the sickening little troll, 
 with all his rhyming art. 
 
 " Not written, or sent, or visited," says the gentleman. 
 " What can possibly detain him ? Why is he blind to the 
 brightest sun ?" 
 
 " I suppose he is no worse than all your statesmen and 
 politicians," answered my lady. " I scarcely ever yet knew 
 one of them that was not an owl. They are so wrapped up 
 in their own little dark plots that they can see nothing else 
 in the world." 
 
 "Then it is your ladyship's opinion that love has taken 
 refuge with poets alone ?" said Pope, after a brief pause. 
 
 " I have scarcely any opinion," answered she, " about 
 what does not exist." 
 
 " What," cries the other, " do I live to hear the most 
 beautiful woman in England negative the existence of the 
 universal passion ?"
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 79 
 
 " I have found it a universal fable," answered she ; " I 
 have heard much of the thing, but have never seen it in 
 actual life. I have read of it, I have been told of it nay, 
 why should I deny that it has even been professed to my- 
 self, witli many an ardent oath ; but I know that they who 
 were most loud in their declarations sought simply their 
 own amusement, or to indulge their vanity. I could read 
 selfishness in their eyes, and see the hollowness of their 
 false hearts, though they thought I could not." 
 
 " Your ladj'ship should not judge of all mankind," says 
 Pope, "by such specimens of it as you saw at Paris or 
 Vienna. There are men who truly love, and who would 
 devote the whole of their existence to her whom they 
 adore." 
 
 The lying pigmy ! How came he to know this ? Cer- 
 tainly not from within. 
 
 "Are there?" said my lady. "What a pity it is that 
 they are not exhibited! The whole female world would 
 flock to see that wonder of wonders a faithful lover." 
 
 A faint blush passed over the sickly features of the poet. 
 Ho then resumed. I could see my lady play with him as 
 a cat plays with a mouse. 
 
 " I know a man," said he, " who loves, and loves devot- 
 edly. The woman he worships is the pride and glory of 
 her sex. She is more beautiful than this splendid scene of 
 stream and wood on which we now gaze ; she is more 
 bright than the sky lit with sunshine. Her wit is like the 
 diamond ; her manners enchant ; her smile, her thoughts, 
 her words are music. Unfortunately for him, another owns 
 her, who prizes her not at all, and she has never yet given 
 her admirer more than soft words, and, perhaps, at times a 
 look on which he lives. Yet this man will you tell me 
 that he does not love ?" 
 
 My lady looked at the absurd dwarf. She knew well 
 whom and what he meant, but she remembered that she
 
 80 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 was a duke's daughter, and that it was a linen-draper's 
 son who ventured to talk in this mad way. She had 
 amused herself with his folly, and played with him poor 
 wriggling trout until he was fairly hooked, and thought 
 himself secure of the gilded fly. It was a fine thing, a 
 polite thing and this woman was a subtle deviser to have 
 Alexander Pope celebrating her in prose and poetry, dan- 
 gling in her train, and telling the world how beautiful, and 
 great, and wise she was. It was convenient to use him as 
 her flying newsman, to extend her praises, and make her 
 loving friends grow pale with envy. But this was all my 
 lady ever contemplated from him. Had he been a handsome 
 lord ! Well ! She never dreamed the poet was so selfish 
 as to demand a quid pro quo for all this fine sentiment. 
 She now looked at him with the air of a vestal, as if she 
 was unable to comprehend how any man could love a mar- 
 ried woman ; as if she had not that very day penned to 
 Lady Pomfret a letter all profligacy and scandal ; but her 
 air did not deceive her companion, who was as quick and 
 keen as a weasel or a ferret, and, indeed, at this moment 
 he gave me a vivid idea of one or both. For I began to 
 hate him, with a child's passion. I could feel my blood 
 boil, and my veins throb. I longed to rush out- and brain 
 him with the broken monster, which, by the way, seemed 
 much handsomer than this enamored minstrel. 
 
 "How can this wretch," I thought, "dare to talk in this 
 way in my presence ? Am I not her son her guardian ?" 
 
 I forgot that I was an infant, and unseen. 
 
 "And who," inquired my lady, "may this wonderful 
 man be ?" 
 
 " You see him before you," answered the poet, in a low, 
 deep tone, and with an earnest look, that had all the ap- 
 pearance of reality the devil under an angel's sem- 
 blance. 
 
 "Lor! bless me!" she answered, "I never should have
 
 BDWAHD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 81 
 
 thought it. I supposed that Swift and Fermor, your grotto 
 and the muses, were all you cared for." 
 
 " Ah," said he, " you do not know my heart. Would 
 that you did !" 
 
 But Lady Mary knew it well. She had seen into the 
 little dirty nook ; she had probed its inmost depths ; she 
 saw vanity, falsehood, scorn, and selfishness in that deep, 
 hollow cavern, which the poet now pretended was all her 
 own ; she knew that all he was telling or had told her waa 
 a lie, gotten by heart, and repeated to half a score of silly, 
 pretty women by this Devil on Two Sticks of a bard. 
 
 " You talk," said he, " of Swift, as if there could be any 
 real sympathy between that misanthropist and myself. 
 You speak of Fermor, but she thinks only of Lord Petre, 
 who is but half a man ; of the muses, but I care not for 
 them ; of my grotto, but I find no pleasure in it. 
 
 " Ah, friend ! 'tis true, this truth you lovers know, 
 In vain my structures rise, my gardens grow, 
 In vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes, 
 Of hanging mountains and of sloping greens; 
 Joy lives not here ; to happier seats it flies, 
 Ami only dwells where Wortley casts her eyes." 
 
 The hateful little hatter murmured this in a way irre- 
 sistibly comical. I have no doubt he thought it would be 
 pathetic in the extreme ; but Lucretia was not more insen- 
 sible to the name of Tarquin than Lady Mary was to the 
 raptures of her misshapen admirer. She affected to listen 
 with surprise, and still to wonder who he meant. The 
 bard took hope. He had ventured thus far, and had not 
 been brained with her ladyship's fan, or given over to the 
 kicks of John Footman. 
 
 "Charming Lady Mary," he cried, "can you, indeed, be 
 ignorant of her who is the bright morning star of my heart 
 and love ; on whom my thoughts and feelings have dwelled 
 for years; who came before me like a radiant vision of 
 youth in the dark Hades of London life, and filled me with
 
 82 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 her presence like a splendor ? Oh ! how I have loved you, 
 and longed to tell you so dreamed of you when you were 
 afar off; lived upon your image ; panted to behold you once 
 again, and to pour forth the passion of my life. Your por- 
 trait by Kneller, which I have hung up opposite to where I 
 always sit, is but a poor substitute for her whom I adore. 
 Give me but your heart, and believe me to be wholly 
 yours." 
 
 And the writhing imp absolutely fell on his knees before 
 her. 
 
 But here an event happened, the most unromantic pos- 
 sible. The little man was never vigorous ; he was at this 
 time weak in health and feeble about the knees, though he 
 professed love like Hercules himself. As he slipped grace- 
 fully to the fair feet of his princess, he fell on the floor and 
 sprawled before her in the most undignified manner. He 
 even rolled. It was as if Nemesis had knocked the lying 
 little baboon on the head in pure spite. This was too 
 much for Lady Mary. That keen sense of the ludicrous, 
 which no woman ever possessed in greater perfection, was 
 immediately called into play. The contrast between the 
 impassioned poet and the sprawling, rolling manikin on 
 the carpet, who looked all confusion and mortification, 
 appeared so striking, that she burst into a loud fit of un- 
 feeling laughter, which sounded in Alexander's ear like his 
 death-knell. The woman who could thus sport with his 
 deformity he knew at once never could be his. The blood 
 rushed to his very eyes not red, but black, envenomed, 
 yellow, snaky blood. He raged and writhed like a mad- 
 man. He sought to scramble to his legs, in some imp-like 
 fashion, but failed, and his appealing glance to my lady 
 for assistance was answered only by another burst of ring- 
 ing laughter. The bell sounded, a servant entered, and 
 with ill-concealed mockery perhaps he had been listening 
 lifted up the nightingale of Twickenham. No word did
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 83 
 
 he speak I suppose he could not. He did not bow or 
 look farewell ; but hastened out of the room with a fury 
 gnawing his heart. My lady's clear and silvery laugh 
 accompanied his flight, and goaded him like a poisoned 
 arrow. Never was a love scene ended so ridiculously. As 
 he hobbled down the garden, he could hear her singing, 
 
 "Cease, fond shepherd, cease desiring 
 
 What you never can enjoy ; 
 She derides your vain aspiring, 
 
 She to all your sex is coy. 
 Cunning Damon once pursued her. 
 
 Yet she never would incline; 
 Strephon, too, as vainly wooed her, 
 
 Though his flocks are more than thine." 
 
 And here her silvery scornful laughter rang again. 
 
 Pope turned round ; there was a grinning devil in his face. 
 
 " Woman 1" he cried out, " vile, heartless, deceitful ! 
 You shall rue this to the end of time. I will cover your 
 name with ignominy ; I will unmask your profligacy before 
 the world. What! yow, the woman of the seraglio, the 
 jest of Wharton, the deceiver of your husband, the plun- 
 derer of Ruremonde, the gambler on the Exchange, with 
 every foul conceit abiding in your heart, vicious as a 
 Roman empress, corrupt in every thought that passes 
 through your brain think you that I did not know you 
 as you are ? Yea, I did, indeed ; and so shall the world 
 see." And, shaking his fist, he turned round, while Lady 
 Mary still laughed ; but her mirth now seemed hollow and 
 feigned. 
 
 And now all was over between this amiable pair. They 
 never again met as friends, but always as deadly enemies, 
 each bent as if on the ruin of the other. The poet lam- 
 pooned the lady; the angry fair one libelled the poet. 
 Pope invented lies and gave them circulation. My mother 
 was equally fertile in calumny and cunning. Both parties 
 were to blame ; he, for laboring as he had, to withdraw a
 
 84 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 wedded dame from her loyalty ; she for even appearing to 
 encourage his base pursuits. An accident had foiled him, 
 and perhaps preserved her, for the moment, at least, from 
 him. The labors of years had vanished in a trice. For 
 any one who has read his letters to Lady Mary, written 
 while she was abroad, and after her return home, can have 
 but one feeling, and that must be of mingled scorn and 
 disgust for this puling hunch-back, who omitted no art of 
 flattery or insinuation to debauch her heart and poison her 
 mind, and make her an easy prey to his advances. I have 
 read them over and over again, as they have been copied 
 into one of her note-books ; and at each perusal my heart 
 was fire. Had I been able at this moment, pitiless for his 
 discomfiture, I could have torn him in pieces. But I was 
 so thunderstruck at the scene that I was speechless. I 
 suppose I made some noise, for all that I recollect next was 
 seeing my mother stand before me, with rage in her eyes, 
 and flame flashing out of every feature. I was covered 
 with confusion. I pointed to the broken monster, but she 
 evidently believed that I had deliberately concealed myself. 
 From that moment till her death she detested me. She 
 did not speak, she did not pause to think, but with one 
 blow felled me to the floor. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 MY father's house was now no more a home for me. I 
 was sent to school, oh ! terrible reminiscence. Now began 
 my days and nights of misery. For the silvery river, the 
 green leasowe, the garden, wood, or bower, I was immersed 
 in a horrid dungeon, flogged by a detestable wretch, whose 
 name was Casey, and who as he laid the lash over my back,
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 85 
 
 grinned with a fiend's delight, till the fire leaped out of his 
 dark eyes. Every morning regularly I was stripped to my 
 shirt, hoisted on the back of a boy, and belabored with a 
 cane, till my shrieks re-echoed through the long room, and 
 I writhed in bloody agony. When I complained to my 
 mother, I got no sympathy, but a cool assurance that if I 
 were not so great a rascal, dunce and liar, I should fare 
 better. I was not alone, indeed, in my misery. Our school 
 was a field of blood. We suffered like galley-slaves under 
 the whip, and were fiends and tyrants to one another. It 
 was horrible to hear our cries and screams when the hour 
 of torture came ; but we might as well have attempted to 
 melt the marble sphynx of Egypt into sympathy as this 
 hardened cannibal, Casey, whose name I thus preserve in 
 pickle as an example to future pedagogues. 
 
 One day, as I suppose, I had been more indolent than 
 usual, and the master was determined to make an example 
 of me. The fact was I was sick of my life, and I scarcely 
 cared to learn a lesson. When I knew it well, I got no 
 praise; when I knew it indifferently, I was mercilessly 
 flogged. It was a lesson in English Grammar, wholly un- 
 interesting to the mind of a boy. And I had now fed my 
 fancy on works of imagination " The Seven Champions 
 of Christendom," "The History of Prince Arthur," and 
 the marvellous adventures of " Robinson Crusoe ;" so that 
 it required something more entertaining than nouns, pro- 
 nouns, or prepositions, their rise, history and use, to im- 
 press any thing about them upon my memory. Casey 
 prepared himself for the task. He pulled up his coat-cuffs, 
 and exposed his great heavy hands and wrists, which were 
 not very clean. He wielded a large flexible cane, which 
 was four feet long. I was, as usual, commanded to strip. 
 I did so, for resistance was useless, and I was subdued and 
 tamed into a negro's submissiveness. I was then hoisted 
 on the back of the strongest and biggest boy in the school. 
 6
 
 86 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 The first lash shot through my tender frame as I have seen 
 a mighty wave leap upon a small ship, until every plank 
 quivers with the dreadful shock, and she seems to have got 
 her death-blow. So ran that thrill through every muscle, 
 vein and fibre. I quivered beneath it. A fierce delight 
 appeared to animate and nerve Casey's arm. He flogged 
 and flogged apparently forever, until the boy on whose 
 back I was at length flung me down, and saying he would 
 serve no longer, escaped into a corner. I fell on the floor; 
 Casey still struck me savagely. I clung about his legs and 
 knees ; I screamed, I implored mercy ; I made a thousand 
 promises. Frenzy seemed to seize him. He would not, or 
 lie could not cease. The whole demon was upon him. 
 
 At length I fainted ; I foamed at the mouth. I remained 
 senseless for an hour. I was subsequently told that Casey 
 then got frightened, and bathed my head and limbs with 
 cold water and other restoratives, but in vain. I was 
 carried home on a litter and lay in bed for several weeks, 
 not quite sane, as I have since heard certainly with only 
 a dim recollection of what I had endured. Nature took 
 compassion on me, and dipped the horrid scene in Lethe. 
 My mother never came near me after the first day. She 
 said it was only what a dunce and a liar deserved, and I 
 was left wholly to the care of servants. I verily believe 
 she would have sent me back again when I recovered, but 
 one of her sisters, my Aunt Evelyn, interposed ; and I was 
 rescued, almost by chance, from the fangs of this accursed 
 wretch. 
 
 A brief interval now passed before I was again sentenced 
 to hell. Alas! that it should have been so brief. I 
 lingered by the sunny banks and watched the fish disport- 
 ing. I wished to join them. They had no lessons, no 
 grammar, no pedagogues among them. I did not know or 
 think that even they had their tormentors, their Caseys in 
 the shape of pikes. They seemed so happy in the sun that
 
 BDWAKD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 87 
 
 I have often felt tempted to leap in and join in their play. 
 Again I looked up into the sky. The birds sang; every 
 blooming spray danced, to their delight ; their whole hearts 
 seemed bursting with ecstacy. I went over my favorite 
 books of adventure and romance, and from their contrast 
 with the jail from which I had been rescued, derived a 
 novel interest. I fancied myself a hero, a knight, a prince, 
 an enchanted wanderer in enchanted lands. What marvel- 
 lous exploits I performed ; what castles I besieged, what 
 giants I slew ; what royal damsels I delivered from bond- 
 age. The whole earth possessed not such a hero ; the 
 whole of Christendom resounded with my glory. I was 
 the favorite champion of all the feeble. I was the honored 
 guest of kings and emperors ; magicians trembled at my 
 name ; the most fell enchanters owned their weakness when 
 in my golden armor I appeared, and thundered at their 
 brazen forts or battlements of steel. Suddenly these faerie 
 dreams were dispelled, and I was again informed that I 
 must prepare for school. Horror seized me. I felt like 
 Job when that Spirit which made the hair of his flesh 
 stand up passed before his eyes "Fear came upon me 
 and trembling, which made all my bones shake." I had 
 five guineas in my pocket the wealth of Croesus to a boy 
 with which I immediately made a flight to Oxford. 
 This was in 1725. I found myself in the High street. It 
 was fair time. The place was filled with booths, puppet 
 shows and menageries, and seemed to offer an inexhaus- 
 tible source of joy. As I was gazing on these wonders, a 
 tall youth, with a merry eye and lip, a long nose, and an 
 arch smile, came up and said, " Hallo 1 Wortley, what are 
 you doing here ?" dragged me away into one of the pup- 
 pet shows. It was my cousin, Harry Fielding, then a 
 youth, only a little older than myself, who had made a 
 nearly similar escape from Eton, but with not so well filled 
 a purse. We both recounted our adventures to each other,
 
 88 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and laughed heartily at the fancied dismay of our parents. 
 We went from show to show, devouring ginger-bread, nuts 
 and apples, until we were entirely gorged ; Fielding draw- 
 ing on me as if I were old Drummond the goldsmith, and 
 scattering about our silver among the columbines and 
 clowns the former of whom he kissed and cuddled to the 
 immense delight of the populace, while he joked with the 
 latter in the broadest style; which produced peals of 
 laughter from the chawbacons and their sweethearts. I 
 think we passed the night in a round house, but we both 
 drank so much wine that I can scarcely say with certainty. 
 The debauch, however, was unlucky, for the constables 
 having discovered who we were, communicated the fact to 
 some of the dons, and we were both next day packed back 
 to our respective houses, under the guardianship of one of 
 the preservers of the peace, who gave us many a sage ad- 
 monition on the road, to which I fear we paid no attention. 
 My Lady Mary received me with her usual demonstration 
 of love a hearty flogging I was now eleven years old 
 and confined me to my room on bread and water for three 
 days, when I was removed in custody, only not handcuffed 
 or chained, to another physician of the mind. 
 
 My new master was one Porter ; he was LL.D. of some 
 university, but I think it was Satan conferred on him his 
 degree. He was tall, thin, and slightly gray -haired. His 
 eye was like a piece of stone ; there was a frigid light in 
 the lower part of it which made one shudder. His mouth 
 was hard and firm ; his forehead showed self-conceit ; his 
 bearing was quick, despotic, and unfeeling. He was an 
 accomplished manj but a most hardened scoundrel. His 
 torture was refined ; it was wholly different from Casey's. 
 The latter was a vulgar brute, who merely tormented the 
 body ; but Porter was a subtle inquisitor ; he spared your 
 flesh, but made your heart and spirit writhe. He filled you 
 with self-contempt, self-loathing ; he looked at you as if
 
 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 89 
 
 you W3re some misshapen beast ; he grinned, he sneered, 
 he curled his lip in scorn, until you felt disposed to fall on 
 your knees, and ask the rod in mercy. Never was any 
 wretchedness greater than that which we endured under 
 this miscreant. We hated him, we detested ourselves ; the 
 whole world seemed one vast theatre of horror. This 
 mental slavery was perfect in its way. I have read of a 
 man who was put into a hollow pillar, which was gradually 
 heated to a white glow, and the wretch expired piecemeal. In 
 such a pillar I seemed to move and abide under this odious 
 villain, until I quivered with affright when I heard his foot 
 ascend the stairs, or listened to his harsh voice echo through 
 the house. It gave me the notion of the links of a chain 
 used only to fetter criminals, and lead them to execution. 
 This was our classical teacher; in mathematics we were 
 under the tuition of a fellow named Douglas, a vulpine 
 colored knave. I hated him the moment I saw him. You 
 will ask me why ? It was not merely from a boy's impul- 
 sive instinct, but his breath stunk horribly ; it was some- 
 thing rank, putrid, most offensive. My nerves and organs 
 were finely constituted ; this defect disgusted their delicacy, 
 and I never could bear to go near him. Yet near him I 
 was forced to go, and this also constituted a new and most 
 dreadful punishment. Mathematics I hated ; Euclid, alge- 
 bra, arithmetic all the horrid jargon of science were odious 
 to me. I failed and failed, and utterly failed, until Douglas 
 gave me up ; he treated me with contempt, and telling me 
 " I should never set the Thames on fire," he gave his worst 
 mark, with a satirical and contumelious grin that entered 
 into my soul. Why did he not honestly tell me that I 
 could not learn the rubbish? Because he revelled so 
 heartily in the suffering of others, and took such a dislike 
 to me, from the antipathy of our two natures, that he could 
 not bear to relinquish the power of punishment which his 
 tutelage over me gave ; and he took vengeance on me be-
 
 90 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 cause he saw me turn away my face every time he came 
 near and breathed balefully upon me. I would rather have 
 borne the hardest blow at any time than have inhaled this 
 serpent's odor. I shrank from it. He saw this. If he 
 knew why I did so, I suppose he hated me the more ; a 
 personal defect discovered inflicts pain on the possessor of 
 it, which he repays with an und}dng thirst of vengeance. 
 
 Five days in every week we were subjected to these 
 dreadful ordeals. On the sixth day (Saturday) was our 
 day of judgment ; the marks of the whole week were then 
 added up. We had what were called judgment books, in 
 which all our shortcomings for all the preceding days were 
 noted under separate heads. These were computed, and 
 according to our approach to or retrocession from a fixed 
 number, which was the perfect one I think it was thirty 
 was our corporeal chastisement. For fancy not, won- 
 dering reader, that bodily correction was banished from 
 this academic grove. By no means, but it was in a different 
 department. A man named Hamblin, who was Porter's 
 partner in the establishment, was the executioner. Porter 
 and Douglas, having wasted all their spite, and tormented 
 your mind till it could endure no more, then handed you 
 over to the hangman, who was to finish you off and dismiss 
 you to the Sabbath-day, with a temper beautifully attuned 
 for the Sunday lesson of charity, mildness, peace, and 
 good-will to all men. We were paraded in a long line 
 before Hamblin ; each trembling truant with his judgment 
 book in his hand ; the minister of punishment at our head, 
 with his long whip. Each was examined in turn, each was 
 flogged according to his book, and then sent off with a 
 satirical courage, mon ami, from the hangman, which seemed 
 the bitterest of all. Why we did not drown, or hang, or 
 shoot ourselves seems now a mysteiy to me ; but it is won- 
 derful what an amount of suffering boys will endure before 
 they finally rebel.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 91 
 
 All my days during this period were days of misery. 
 Night brought me no repose. I slept in a long attic all 
 alone, and soon discovered from the servants' talk that the 
 house was haunted. They had the most curious tales of 
 horror. I listened to these till my blood ran cold, and I 
 could feel it like a frozen rivulet in my heart. Hamblin's 
 wife had a mark under her left eye, a slight mark, like a 
 scar, and when you looked at it but for a second, she winced 
 under your glance as if in dread. I once asked the girl 
 who most usually attended me what it was, and heard as 
 follows : 
 
 " Misses's father was, they say, a parson somewhere in 
 the north, and though one of the cloth, was as bad a man 
 as the country held. He was covetous, too, like all parsons, 
 and always greedy after money ; so that some folks did 
 say he was ready to sell his soul to the devil for pelf; but 
 for my part, I do not believe that the devil is fool enough 
 to give money for any mortal souls, when he can get so 
 many on 'em for nothing. However this may be, there 
 was a kitchen garden attached to his glebe house, and this 
 garden, like a grasping old huncks as he was, he began to 
 extend from time to time into the churchyard, which was 
 one of great extent, and when the horses were ploughing 
 it up they disturbed the bones, and smashed in the coffins, 
 and broke the skulls, and knocked the dead about in the 
 most shameful manner. And his wife, misses's mother, 
 wept sorely, and did all she could to change the avaricious 
 old brute; but he went on, heedless of God or man, en- 
 croaching more and more every year on the place devoted 
 to the dead, and his eldest daughter, Mrs. Hamblin, who 
 was most like himself, backed him up, and abused her 
 mother, who died at last of vexation and affright. Well, 
 when the turnips or parsnips were brought to table, they 
 used to be full of human teeth and bits of bones, and they 
 say the celery and cucumbers dropped blood ; and at last
 
 92 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 no one would eat, nor would any neighbor buy any thing 
 grown in the field, and the parson got almost mad, and his 
 daughter told him to gather up all the bones and fragments, 
 and have them burned t>r thrown into the river, and then 
 all would go well. So the parson employed a lot of men 
 to grub 'em up, and they were cast, without a sigh, or 
 prayer, or blessing, into the river ; and that very night, as 
 the daughter was lying in bed, an old lady rustling all in 
 rich silks came into her bedroom, and looking proudly and 
 fiercely at her, flung something which hit her straight under 
 the eye. Then the old lady laughed, and misses imme- 
 diately jumped up and screamed out, and the whole house 
 was alarmed ; and she told them what had happened, and 
 the parson began to curse and swear, and said he would 
 send the old lady to the Red Sea, and he ordered every one 
 out of the bedroom. But from that night to the present 
 time misses has lost the sight of that very eye, and they 
 say wherever she goes the spirits follow her, and don't let 
 her sleep in her bed, but are always worrying her ; but how 
 that may be no one but herself and her husband knows ; 
 but for my part I believe that nothing goes right here after 
 midnight, and I have often thought of running away and 
 drowning myself at the things I hear and see." 
 
 This story set me half mad. I remember well the day 
 after the first night I heard it. I ran home in a frenzy; I 
 rushed into my mother's presence, I fell on my knees, and 
 pathetically implored her to take me home, or send me to 
 another school, before I should go wholly mad, or fling 
 away my life in disgust. My lady coolly rang for a ser- 
 vant, and I was conveyed back in disgrace and bondage, 
 where a hearty thrashing awaited and rewarded me. I was 
 then paraded before the boys, and crowned with a large 
 goat's head and horns; on my back was pinned a paper 
 with these words, "Liar! Coward!" and was stuck upon a 
 stool in the most conspicuous corner of the school-room,
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 93 
 
 and remained the centre-piece of mockery and laughter, 
 and I suppose contempt, for the remainder of the day. 
 My heart was almost throbless, but my brain burned like 
 red hot embers, and a flood of hatred of life, mankind, 
 God, my parents, my country, and every conceivable object, 
 rushed through my entire being, drenching it with livid 
 bitterness. I remember that day still. It was the first of 
 disgrace I had endured. Torture and punishment I had 
 hitherto bore without repining ; indeed, I had grown vain 
 of my back, which was perfectly callous and horny from 
 repeated floggings, and half defied the cane of Hamblin. 
 But this stigma now branded on me seemed indelible, and 
 I was mad with rage and suffering. 
 
 The night that followed that day shall it ever pass out 
 of my mind ? I was locked up in my attic, supperless and 
 wretched. As I lay on my hard bed, I heard two deep- 
 drawn sighs that sounded quite close to my pillow. An 
 electric chill passed through me ; I felt as if a hand of 
 death, cold, colder than ice, was drawn over my face. I 
 covered my head up in the quilt, I trembled, I screamed in 
 agony; but my screams were inaudible. I seemed as if 
 enveloped in a cloud, out of which no sound could pene- 
 trate. Darkness palpable was around me, but I could see 
 it illuminated as if by pale light. Then a gaunt shape, 
 all bones, with an enormous head, stood right over me, 
 and looked out of the threatening eyes with all the force 
 of hell and hate. I swooned, and when I woke to con- 
 sciousness, found myself in the arms of the friendly domes- 
 tic, who had already narrated to me some of her own 
 experiences of this loathed mansion. She bathed my head, 
 she soothed me with her hand, she spoke words of comfort, 
 but I heard them not. Only a confused vision of home, 
 and grinning eyes, and bloodless phantoms, seemed to roll 
 in clouds before my mind's vision ; but at last she lulled 
 me into forgetful ness by a low, wild plaintive song ; the
 
 94 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 lament of a young girl hanged for child murder, and of 
 which I only remember these words, whose melancholy 
 music still haunts me 
 
 " But his whispered words, and his soft blue eyes, 
 And the drinking of strong wine, 
 "Were the fatal spells that did me betray, 
 And broke this heart of mine ; 
 
 Mine, 
 And broke toll heart of mine." 
 
 Next day I fled from Porter's, never to return. 
 
 Away, away down by the green fields, beside the spark- 
 ling, open river, glorious, golden in the laughing sunshine, 
 inhaling the perfumed winds that stole their fragrance from 
 the flowers, by the high road through vales and villages, 
 anywhere, anywhere so as not to school, or equally detested 
 home. I found myself hungry and exhausted in a great 
 city, which I soon knew was London. I was finely dressed, 
 but I had not a penny in my pocket, and I had not tasted 
 food all day. Still, my heart failed not, for I fled from 
 worse than death, and threw myself into the whirlpool of 
 life, hopeful, confident, brimful of bright expectations. 1 
 knew not whither I was going, or how I was to live. I 
 cared not what became of me, until my escape was secured, 
 so I wandered on and on, not even staying to look into the 
 brilliant shops, that flashed with gold and silver, and all 
 the treasures of a great capital. At length darkness rushed 
 on me, but in a brief space the streets were lighted up, 
 carriages rattled by, preceded by link-boys ; the vivid life 
 of the day seemed still to extend into the night, and all 
 was glitter, gayety, and splendor. As I stood in a dark 
 recess and watched the noisy crowd of equipages whirled 
 by, I noted a chariot bearing the Montagu arms ; and lean- 
 ing back on the soft cushions I saw my mother superbly 
 dressed, and looking haughtily on the humble pedestrians. 
 Beside her was a man whom I afterwards knew to be Lord
 
 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 95 
 
 Hervey, but I did not then have the honor of his acquaint- 
 ance. She looked, methought, into the very place where I 
 was hiding; if she saw me, she took no notice of the 
 runaway, but laughed and smiled upon her companion, who 
 was blazing with finery, but had a languid, effeminate air, 
 which filled me with utter scorn for the fopling. My tongue 
 was silent, but I could feel as if my heart grew ice in her 
 presence ; I did not curse her, but I felt hatred. As to my 
 father, I thought of him not. He had never treated or 
 even looked at me as his son ; to me his face was cold and 
 hard ; he had invariably repelled me whenever I approached 
 him. From the first moment that I can remember we have 
 been strangers, perhaps foes. What was there between 
 him and me that I should seek him now ? 
 
 Hitherto I had not once faltered. I now grew very faint 
 with hunger. I looked around me and began to feel afraid. 
 I was alone in wide London. There was no friendly home 
 to welcome me ; no warm hand to clasp mine and lead me 
 to a shelter. Every one I saw pass by seemed to scrutinize 
 me with curious gaze. I looked up to heaven and saw the 
 stars, and wished to be among them. " They," I thought, 
 " would be my friends. They are so bright, so glorious, 
 so beneficent, they would receive and shelter me. Oh ! that 
 I could fly away to them forever. How shall I get food ? 
 I have no money to buy it nobody seems to offer it me ? 
 Any one can see that I am hungry, and almost dead, yet no 
 one offers to take me in. Yet one thing is clear I shall 
 see no ghost to-night ; I shall hear no whisper from hell 
 murmured into my ear; I shall feel no hand of Satan laid 
 across my heart. If I wake in the morning somewhere 
 if ever I do wake, I shall escape a flogging and a fool's 
 cap, and the jeers and gibes of Lane and Bennett." These 
 were two wretches in the school who had singled me out 
 for persecution ; and added to my other torments by per- 
 petual irritation and petty annoyance. I often felt as if I
 
 96 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 could poignard them, but they were big, coarse boys, and 
 a blow from either has frequently stunned me for even 
 minutes. 
 
 While I was thus musing, a sigh or two, I suppose, 
 escaped me. I certainly felt sorrowful enough. A hundred 
 anxious thoughts ran through my soul. The full danger 
 of my situation now for the first time occurred to me. I 
 was accosted by a short, stout man, with a very square, 
 full face, a round chin, deep, dark eyes of the most earnest 
 expression, his own black hair, a plain brown suit, and a 
 fine cravat, tied very loosely round his neck. He leaned 
 on a thick walking-stick with a massive gold head. His 
 presence was assuring, and his smile had something of a 
 charm in it the magic of a quick benevolence. He looked 
 at me for some time before he spoke, as if meditating how 
 he should begin, but he finally came up to me, and with a 
 rich Irish accent, that was not destitute of soft melody, 
 thus addressed me : 
 
 " How now, youngster, in the fine coat what are you 
 doing here at this time of night ? Waiting for your mis- 
 tress, eh ?" 
 
 I was startled, but I had plenty of courage, so I said : 
 " Not waiting for a mistress, for here is no need to wait, 
 when they pass up and down in such numbers ; but won- 
 dering what I shall do with myself." 
 
 " You are very difficult to please, I suppose, that you 
 hesitate so much. But if you take my counsel, you will go 
 home to your mother, and get your supper, unless, indeed, 
 you prefer a rheumatism." 
 
 " I like one part of your counsel, but not the other." 
 "And pra} r which part, young gentleman, may that be?" 
 " That which counsels a supper, I approve ; that which 
 recommends home, I disapprove." 
 
 " Upon my word you are a pretty youth, and I suppose
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 97 
 
 you are now hesitating between Burgundy or Champagne, 
 Will's or Button's ? 
 
 " I never heard of either, old gentleman, but I feel 
 hungry." 
 
 " Then step with me to the next tavern, and order what 
 you will. I should like to sup with a youngster of your 
 spirit." 
 
 " And pray, sir, who may you be that thus accost me, 
 and invite yourself so freely ?" 
 
 " Well, I am called by my friends Dick Steele, by my 
 creditors Sir Richard Steele, by the literary world Steele 
 the Scribbler. Which do you like best ?" 
 
 " The first, certainly ; so let us go." 
 
 " And now, sir, that I have answered your bold question, 
 may I take the respectful liberty of asking from which of 
 the planets you have dropped ? You don't seem to know 
 much of London, to be ignorant of Will's and Button's." 
 
 " Sir Richard Steele, that is a question I won't answer ; 
 so go your ways." 
 
 "Well, I shan't press you; but come with me; you 
 seem a rare lad, and I should like half-an-hour's chat with 
 you." 
 
 We entered the first tavern we saw. My host, for so he 
 appeared to be, ordered a splendid supper, but asked me 
 no more questions, for he saw that I was not disposed to 
 be communicative, and he was too fine a gentleman to 
 press me for my secret. He enjoyed the relish with which 
 I evidently discussed the various delicacies, and entertained 
 me with agreeable discourse, speaking to me all the time 
 as if I were his equal in every respect, and making me 
 laugh by his whimsical, deep, yet witty observations on 
 all around us. He quickly put me into the most perfect 
 good humor with myself and all the world, and I felt half 
 tempted to tell who I was. An accident saved me. Just
 
 98 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 as I -was on the point of opening my heart, one of the 
 drawers came up, and said : 
 
 "Sir Richard, here is a note from Mr. Montagu; he 
 wishes to see you as soon as possible." 
 
 "Ah! Ned Montagu," says Sir Richard; "I wonder 
 what mare's nest he has now found that he wants me so 
 speedily. But I shall see him to-morrow. Meanwhile, 
 young gentleman, what ails you ?" 
 
 " Nothing ; I was only thinking where I should get a 
 bed." 
 
 " Now, by all the gods and goddesses of Olympus, thou 
 art a perfectly unaccountable and mysterious youth. Why 
 can you not sleep here, if you won't go home ? Or why 
 can't you fly back to Mercury, from which I suppose you 
 fell ?" 
 
 " Simply because the inns in Mercury are closed for the 
 night, and I don't possess a farthing to pay for one here." 
 
 " Then, my boy, you shall come home to my house, and 
 stay with me as long as you please ; or at all events until 
 you go back to your mother, or Mercury, or wherever else 
 you have escaped from." 
 
 " Then I fear I shall remain for some time, as I don't 
 feel inclined to go back at all." 
 
 "With all my heart, with all my heart; and, boy, you 
 shall be welcome to all I can supply welcome as my own 
 flesh and blood. Here, drawer, discharge the reckoning." 
 
 And flinging a guinea to the man, he rose up. When he 
 had received his change, we got into the street. Two 
 dogged-looking fellows were lurking outside the door, and 
 immediately came up. 
 
 " Sir Richard, I beg your pardon, but you are wanted." 
 
 "Am I, indeed ? Tell your master I can't come." 
 
 " My master is the sheriff, Sir Richard, and he will take 
 no refusal." 
 
 " At whose suit is this new invitation?"
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 99 
 
 a Flounce, your tailor, Sir Richard. The debt is " 
 
 " Pooh, never mind." And he sighed. " Well, I sup- 
 pose I must go. But, young gentleman, as you can't go 
 home with me, for the sheriff of Middlesex wants me on 
 pressing business, I suppose you need a couple of guineas. 
 Would that they were twenty." 
 
 And he gave them to me, while they took him away. 
 
 I scarcely now remember whether I then knew the full 
 meaning of all this. The impression at the time on my mind 
 was one of deep gratitude to this unknown friend, who had 
 thus, almost by miracle, dropped on me from Heaven, and 
 saved me from famishing. Why was he thus compelled to 
 leave me? to depart in the company of those two bold, 
 shabby-looking fellows, who seemed strange lacqueys from 
 the sheriff of Middlesex. A couple of link boys standing 
 near, and who had seen the occurrence, soon enlightened me. 
 
 "Ah, there he goes," says one, "for the five hundredth 
 time nabbed by the bloodhounds the merriest man in 
 England, and the most open-hearted. His wife will miss 
 him for some days." 
 
 "Aye," says the other, "and I am sure he regrets it 
 more for her sake than his own. He is a noble fellow. 
 You remember Jack Hall. Well, when he was run over by 
 that infernal old rogue Montagu, who has twenty millions 
 of gold in the Bank of England, Sir Richard never ceased, 
 night nor day, till he made him give twenty pounds to his 
 mother, and got a promise from him that when the boy was 
 well he would apprentice him to some trade where his hurt 
 limb would not interfere with his calling, for he could flash 
 a link no more." 
 
 "Aye, and that was not the only fine thing he did. 
 There was Tom Brown " 
 
 But here they walked on, and I heard no more. I could 
 almost cry ; but where was the good of that ? I returned
 
 100 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 to the inn and ordered a bed. But I never saw Sir Richard 
 Steele again. He died soon after. 
 
 When I rose in the morning I scarcely knew how I 
 should act. I was determined to seek my fortune, and go 
 in quest of adventures. I had read " Gil Bias " in French 
 at school, and thought I should do as well as him. The 
 shifting variety of scenes, and circumstances, and charac- 
 ters; the independence, the wild gayety, the change of 
 place and condition, fascinated me. Why should not my 
 life also be a romance ? Why should it not be narrated by 
 some future Le Sage ? Or should I go to sea, and like 
 Robinson Crusoe find myself the monarch of some Para- 
 dise Island in the Southern Ocean, where all was sunshine 
 and repose? Any thing was preferable to home, and 
 school, and the cane, and the sneers and sarcasms, and the 
 phantoms. Now that they had begun, I felt certain if I 
 once got back again, they would haunt me forever perhaps 
 bear me away body and soul into perdition, and leave no 
 trace of me behind. But whatever I did, I must resolve on 
 straight. I was only twenty miles from my tyrants; I 
 was not quite twelve from my mother and her myrmidons. 
 Both would soon, no doubt, be after me, and further and 
 more extended flight was absolutely necessary. After 
 breakfast I left the tavern, and proceeded along the streets 
 until I got into the high road at the other side of the 
 Thames. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 I NOW discovered that I could do nothing until I got rid 
 of my fine clothes. I had a predilection for a vagrant life, 
 and I resolved to gratify it. A hundred different projects 
 crossed my mind. Should I be a soldier ? for that I was
 
 EDWARD WORTLKY MONTAGU. 101 
 
 too young; a sailor? for that I was not big or strong 
 enough ; and though I canvassed the advantages of being 
 a cabin boy, the ills and necessities to w,hich it wouM sub- 
 ject me seemed to more than cotmtetipftlaijce the'4t>ilicking 
 freedom which it promised. J did not nwjoh -care 'fpr.-lhe 
 toil or hardship, and I was Oharatert .tty the' quick Variety 
 and change of scene into which it would lead me ; but I 
 did not like the notion of cleaning the sailors' shoes or 
 washing up their dirty dishes. An errand boy did not 
 promise variety enough, nor a link boy present security ; 
 for though I had half made up my mind to figure in this 
 last-named disguise, I luckily recollected in time that as 
 my avocations would necessarily lead me into fashionable 
 society, I should there run the most extreme daily risk of 
 being discovered and dragged home with ignominy. 1 
 never asked myself why it was absolutely necessary that I 
 should be any thing but what I was ; but took it for granted 
 that it was my kismet or destiny, as the orientals call it, 
 and obeyed unerring instinct. Of one thing I was sure, 
 that as at home I was detested and despised, and at school 
 flogged into fits, any condition of life was better than 
 either of these; and as I had too much of my father's 
 practical prosaic spirit to fling myself into the Thames, so 
 I had enough of my mother's errant blood to drive me into 
 odd adventures, which had, in the distance, a vague, indis- 
 tinct, shadowy charm for my wandering imagination. 
 
 I once meditated a good deal upon the advisability of 
 joining some strolling players. Here would be a variety 
 of adventure, quite enough, I thought, to gratify my ardent 
 longings. But on reflection I dismissed the notion. I 
 saw no prospect of the pleasure that I desired. I was a 
 mere stripling, and could, of course, be of histrionic use 
 only on the rarest occasions. The fine gilded dresses and 
 waving feathers which appeared so captivating in the dis- 
 tance would be forbidden fruit to me until I was some 
 7
 
 102 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 years older, and I should also be a dependent, and whollj 
 devoid of that wild freedom for which I panted. On full 
 consideration it seemed to. me that the business of a chim- 
 ney sweep was. that- toi> which I was best suited, and which 
 also promised the, mpst agreeable incidents. I thought 
 what -a fine thing it would -be to go from house to house, 
 and from room to room; to-day in a nobleman's palace, 
 to-morrow in a cobbler's lodging; this hour penetrating 
 the interior of some old manor house, full of quaint pas- 
 sages and secret recesses, every one of which concealed a 
 romance; and the next strolling into the country, and 
 diving through the ivied walls of some rustic cot, sur- 
 rounded by trees and green fields, or gazing over the wide 
 expanse from the highest summit of some lordly castle of 
 the feudal time. The curious in metaphysics may inquire 
 how or why it was that I, with all my patrician blood, had 
 these vulgar notions? I have never examined into the 
 reason myself. It was odd, but it is true. If I were dis- 
 posed to search into it, vanity would no doubt come to my 
 aid, and I should liken myself to the glorious Caliph Harun 
 al Raschid, who, though commander of the East, and lord 
 of all the beauty and the splendor of his imperial post, was 
 never more happy than when, disguised as a merchant or 
 a slave, he strolled with his faithful Giaflar through the 
 streets of Bagdad, and in its manifold phases of human 
 existence forgot the cares of empire, the demands of domes- 
 tic duty, and the supposed instincts of royal blood. But 
 the truth is that these same notions about royal or noble 
 blood are all arrant nonsense. There is no instinct after 
 truly great or noble things necessarily among people of high 
 descent. On the contrary, my observation of them, and I 
 have seen them all intus et in curte, has convinced me that, 
 as a general rule, the higher we ascend in the social scale 
 the more base and ignoble is the taste. " The only steps 
 to the favor of the Great," writes Pope to Gay, (and the
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 103 
 
 little monkey well knew it, having passed through all,) 
 "are such complacencies, such compliances, such distant 
 decorums, as delude them in their vanities, or engage them 
 in their passions. He is their greatest favorite who is the 
 falsest ; and when a man by such vile gradations arrives 
 at the height of grandeur and power, he is then at best but 
 in a circumstance to be hated, and in a condition to be 
 hanged for serving their ends." So many a minister has 
 found it ! I know half a dozen dukes and marquises, who 
 spend all their lives in the cock-pit ; and in bear-baiting, 
 bull-dog fighting, boxing, and rat-catching, find the true 
 Elysium of existence. I know a dozen earls and lords 
 who roam from gaming-table to gaming-table, cursing, 
 drinking, swearing, and talking smut with infinitely more 
 gusto than I ever heard among the lowest members of the 
 mob. I know scores and scores of viscounts, barons, and 
 members of Parliament, who have no ideas beyond ale 
 tankards and pipes, and who spend their lives in dirty 
 little amours, and fancy that Paradise means this and 
 nothing more. All these people are of ancient descent, 
 and baronial pedigree, and have genealogies and rent-rolls, 
 picture galleries, and muniment rooms, and are "gracious," 
 " most noble," " right honorable," and so forth ; but if you 
 could see their souls, you would only behold some mean 
 and frog-like little abortions, squatting over a pool of dirt, 
 and wholly incapable of one generous sentiment. And so 
 it is with their lady wives, and mothers, and daughters, 
 whose tastes are quite as low, base, and despicable (with 
 all their grand blood) as those that belong to their noble 
 lords and masters. 
 
 The picture of English life and manners which I draw 
 may appear to the inexperienced unreal, tinctured with 
 misanthropy, and over-colored by a satirical spleen. In 
 truth it is not so ; it is in all things literally accurate, his- 
 torically true. Any one who will consult the memoirs of
 
 104 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 the period can ascertain this. My mother's own Letters 
 and Works will themselves prove all that I have written. 
 Before my volume be condemned let those be studied, and 
 then let who will, throw stones upon my grave. To the 
 ignorant or weak this memoir may appear parricidal , to 
 the base and time-serving, who know nothing of the facts, 
 my delineation of Lady Mary may appear to be that of a 
 matricide. In future days the partisans of Bute (who 
 having married my sister, is now revelling in my father's 
 ill-gotten money) will halloo against my name, and cover 
 it with obloquy. Let them read and understand before 
 they do so. What respect could I have for either father 
 or mother when I knew their inner lives and odious asso- 
 ciates ? My mother herself has left Memoirs and Diaries 
 descriptive of them ; and if these should ever be seen, what 
 will they not reveal? But that Scotch minion of the 
 Princess and his wife will take care of that ; they will 
 burn them with zealous care. Though of high descent, 
 my mother there confesses that she was on the most inti- 
 mate terms with the infamous Kilmanseg one of the old 
 King's mistresses ; and with Craggs, who she tells us was 
 "in the closest engagement" with another, namely, Ma- 
 dame Platen. This horrid woman left her husband, and 
 voluntarily presented herself to the doting old King to be 
 his paramour. Her own mother had been mistress to the 
 King's father. " She was naturally gallant," says Lady 
 Mary, writing of Platen, and as the King could only " cut 
 paper" in his mistress's apartments, she "pursued her 
 warmer inclinations," and intrigued with Craggs, who was 
 recommended by her to Majesty, and became Secretary of 
 State for this kingdom of ours. He got engaged in the 
 South Sea Swindle, by which he gained enormous sums, 
 and was mixed up with Lady Mary's dabbling in lotteries, 
 and in that odious scheme by which so many innocent 
 thousands widows and orphans were reduced to ruin.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 105 
 
 Cragg's father was originally footman to the Duchess of 
 Norfolk. He was engaged in the same honorable employ- 
 ment by King James II, and the Duke of Marlborough. 
 
 In this way Craggs, senior, amassed a large fortune; 
 got into Parliament, and was in the South Sea robbery, 
 with his son, the Secretary ; was made Postmaster-general 
 by his infamous employer, to whom he continued to pander 
 to the last, and, dying after his right honorable son, gave 
 occasion to old Le Neve, the herald, to make this epitaph 
 on him "Here lies the last who died before the first of his 
 family." All this my mother knew and has herself re- 
 lated. 
 
 Yet of this man Pope had the ineffable baseness to write 
 an epitaph, which still disgraces and pollutes Westminster 
 Abbey, whose Dean has not the courage or decency to 
 erase it ; and where all well-bred people are compelled to 
 read an apotheosis of a scoundrel. 
 
 Another of our intimate friends at this time was Methuen, 
 afterwards Sir Paul, who, seeing the means by which power 
 was to be obtained, and finding Platen pre-engaged, be- 
 came the favorite of old Madame Kilmanseg. Methuen 
 was not ashamed to be taken into the protection of this 
 hag; by which debasement he became a Lord of the 
 Treasury, Secretary of State, and finally Treasurer of the 
 Household. He was one of Pope's virtuous allies; and 
 notwithstanding his infamy, was a member of the highest 
 circles, as the lowest wretches are commonly called. Schu- 
 henberg, another of my mother's friends, finding that her 
 own day had gone by, and that the King no longer cared 
 for her, (she being now three score,) actually brought over 
 her own niece or daughter from Hanover, and offered her 
 to the Prince of Wales afterwards George the Second 
 in which she was supported by Bernstoff, "artful, avari- 
 cious, and designing, who had got his share in the King's 
 councils by bribing his women." This fellow, intending
 
 106 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 to keep his master wholly in his own and Schulenberg's 
 hands, dissuaded Platen from coming to England, telling 
 her that the English would cut her head off; but Platen 
 was too cunning to believe him, and so she came. 
 
 Nor was it footmen only like Craggs and Stephen Fox, 
 or their ignoble breed, who rose to power and peerages by 
 che most ignoble means. The stream of morals flowing 
 from the Court, ran into Leicester Fields to the Prince of 
 Wales, whom my mother condemns for not reflecting that 
 a high rank carries along with it a necessity of a more 
 decent and regular behavior than is expected from those 
 who are not set in so conspicuous a light. He was so far 
 from being of that opinion, that he looked on all the men 
 and women he saw as creatures he might kick or kiss for 
 his diversion ; and whenever he met with any opposition 
 in these designs he thought his opponents insolent rebels 
 to the will of God, who created them for his use, and 
 judged of the merit of all people by their ready submission 
 to his orders. He was equally well mated, his Princess 
 having, according to the same authorit}^ "that genius 
 which qualified her for the government of a fool, and made 
 her despicable in the eyes of men of sense ; I mean a low 
 cunning, which gave her an inclination to cheat all the 
 people she conversed with, and often cheated herself in 
 the first place, by showing her the wrong side of her in- 
 terest ; not having understanding enough to observe that 
 falsehoods in conversation, like the red on the face, should 
 be used very sparingly, or they destroy that interest and 
 beauty which they are designed to heighten. Her first 
 thought on her marriage was to secure to herself the sole 
 and whole direction of her spouse ; and to that purpose 
 she counterfeited the most extravagant fondness for his 
 person." And the highest people in the land, seeing what 
 prevailed both with the king and his son, shaped their 
 morals accordingly. Hence every form of corruption,
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 107 
 
 political and moral, was universal. Of the whole crew 
 whom we were in the habit of meeting, there was only one 
 for whom I really felt sorry ; poor Sophia Howe, one of 
 the maids of honor a laughing, happy, charming girl, 
 with whom I went to Farnham Church when I was a little 
 boy. I remember well her childlike gayety, that seemed to 
 radiate from eyes, and face, and mouth like a sunbeam. 
 It was in answer to this poor soul's question " What is> 
 prudery ?" that Pope wrote : 
 
 ** What is prudery T 'Tis a beldam 
 Seen with wit and beauty seldom ; 
 'Tis a fear that starts at shadows; 
 'Tis, no 'tlsn't like Miss Meadows, 
 'Tis a virgin hard of feature, 
 Old and void of all good nature, 
 Lean and fretful, would seem wiso, 
 Yet plays the fool before she dies ; 
 'Tis an ugly, envious shrew 
 That rails at dear Lepel and you. n 
 
 lines that I feel sure did our poor Maid no good. 
 
 My good friend, you who feel inclined to censure me, 
 what sayest thou to this picture ? Can you wonder that it 
 changed my blood to poison, when I think that such was 
 the society in which I found myself, and to which I was 
 expected to conform ? You may ask, cui bono all this ex- 
 posure ? I answer, cui bono all history, if it is not to illu- 
 minate us with knowledge of the past, and of the real 
 characters of those who are set before us as the great of 
 the earth? Can any thing help more to make the mind 
 philosophic, or to imbue it with content, if it should be 
 fired by ambition, than to see how wealth and power are 
 acquired ; and that a man to get the world or its goods, 
 must lose his own soul in the pursuit ? What homily or 
 pulpit can give me a nobler scorn of vice, by general dis- 
 quisitions on the subject, than those pictures of the actual 
 living men and women who ruled the destinies of England 
 for a period, and who, if they dazzle us while we are igno-
 
 108 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 rant, disgust us when the domino is removed ? It may be 
 said " But you should not do it." Well, perhaps there is 
 something in this. I can only answer that no man is capa 
 Me of forming a true opinion of that, unless he has passed 
 through the hells which I have passed, and found himself, 
 from his childhood, an object of hatred, scorn and persecu- 
 tion ; in his manhood, a mark of contempt and poverty ; 
 in his old age a wanderer and outcast, while a hideous 
 Scotchman was revelling in the treasure which, by all the 
 laws of God and man, he only should possess. And his 
 lady mother, spiteful to the last, bequeathed him, on her 
 death-bed, a guinea, which proved to be real gold unlike 
 the emerald ring which she once gave as her passage-money 
 to a sea captain, and which proved to be glass. Yet think 
 not that I believe that all are vicious, and that decency is 
 not to be found among the high as well as the humble. I 
 hold no such vain opinion. There are exceptions, but 
 these exceptions prove the rule ; and if we examine the 
 annals of mankind, from Julius Ca?sar and Tiberius, 
 down to Philip of Orleans and Frederick of Wales, we 
 shall find that persons of high descent are generally the 
 most mean, and dirty, and small-minded animals, with low 
 tastes, and habits, and notions, seldom rising above the 
 meanest trifles or the grossest filth. 
 
 In saying this, I expose mj'self, of course, to the retort 
 " tu quoque." Well ! I can't help that. I have said what 
 I believe to be God's truth, so let it remain, despite all 
 cavil or censure. If I wrote to please I should pen very 
 different things ; but I write to teach and exhibit, at all 
 events, my own notions, such as they are. I have no 
 doubt a great deal can and will be said on the other side, 
 and I shall hear of "chivalry," "knighthood," "gallantry," 
 " the Norman blood," " the line of Plantagenet," and so 
 on. But I never denied that these things exist, and have 
 existed among those who call themselves the " aristocracy."
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 109 
 
 Heaven forfend that I should say that all were like those 
 dukes and marquises whom I have seen and despised. I 
 only illustrate by facts, that nobility of mind, though 
 usually supposed to attend nobility of birth, is by no 
 means a usual concomitant of that happy accident ; and 
 I do not hesitate to put n^-self forward as an example 
 of the doctrine which I propound; for all my tastes 
 have been to some extent what is called "low." Like 
 Diogenes, I have preferred my tub to a palace, and the 
 presence of a sunbeam to the shadow of a king. I could 
 have rolled and revelled in wealth and pleasure if I had 
 been a living lie. I could have eaten and drunk gold and 
 pearls, if I had worn a mask on my face, and humored my 
 father in his avarice, and been an assentator to my mother 
 in her coquetries. But I was so low and vulgar a fellow 
 that I could not do so. I preferred being a sweep or a 
 gipsy, and I don't regret the preference. It is not the 
 calling or the trade that is " low," but the man who is in 
 it; and a sweep may have as high and noble a soul, and 
 as truly gallant a spirit, as the greatest nobleman in the 
 land. Nay, I have known sweeps who were the truly noble 
 of nature, and noblemen who were far more vulgar than 
 sweeps. 
 
 But let me leave all reveries of this kind to speculatists ; 
 and descending from the sphere of philosophy, let me 
 alight again on sober facts. 
 
 A sweep, therefore, I determined to become a falling 
 off this from the Embassy, or the Treasury, from Carlton 
 House and Cavendish Square nevertheless it was so, and 
 I lost no time in carrying out my project. I went early 
 towards the city, resolved to change clothes with the first 
 sweep I met. But though he was a very little one, and 
 had never read Lilty's Latin Grammar, he had more 
 shrewdness than myself; and he soon convinced me that 
 as my fine clothes would be of no use to him, and his raga
 
 110 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 would probably not fit me, our best plan was to go to Mon- 
 mouth street, and equip at some Jew's shop, who would 
 probably give us a guinea into the bargain, for my clothes 
 were rich with lace and fine work, and were very nearly 
 new. I readily embraced this proposal, and he showed me 
 the way to that famous emporium of old-new garments. 
 We soon found a Jew, to whom I mentioned my desire to 
 see a sweep's dress. 
 
 "Ach ! mein Cott," he said, " I does 'ave de finest sveep's 
 dress dat ever vas in Engeltree, and you shall see it, and 
 you shall vear it, and you shall be like von noble in de 
 dress. Mein Cott, it is made exack for you, mein herr ; 
 it is." 
 
 I was soon disarrayed, and clothed anew in the honor- 
 able costume of a sweep ; indeed it was only an old blanket 
 (worth sixpence) and a cap value one penny. 
 
 " Ach ! mein Cott," exclaimed the Jew, " nevare, nevare 
 did I see von so fine a fit. Mein Cot, you do look like von 
 fine young prince in dat fine dress. Look here, Rebecca ; 
 look at dis young gentleman sveep." And he called in his 
 wife. 
 
 Rebecca was, of course, equally in love with " dis young 
 gentleman sveep." In the meantime, while I was absorbed 
 about my new raiment, the good woman very carefully put 
 aside my old dress, and fell into fresh raptures about my 
 blanket. At length, when I was tired of being worshipped, 
 I asked him what he was going to give me for my clothes. 
 The Jew's face instantly fell. 
 
 "Ach, mein Cott," he said, "vhat do I hear? vhat do I 
 hear from you ? Mein> Rebecca, mein vife, vhat is dis do 
 I hear?" 
 
 Rebecca was evidently struck dumb with surprise. She 
 spoke, however : 
 
 " Vy, my pretty gentleman, vhat vurdher do you vhant ? 
 Is not. you have de sveep's dress, and is not ve have your
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. Ill 
 
 old dress ? A bargain is a bargain, and dis vas de bar- 
 gain, my tear." 
 
 "Oh dear, no," I answered, "my good lady; there was 
 no bargain at all of the kind ; you are under a mistake. 
 Come, hand me over the difference." 
 
 "De difference? de difference? That is de difference? 
 Me understand not dat vord." 
 
 "Why, seeing that my clothes are worth about ten 
 guineas, I think you ought to give me at least five on the 
 exchange." 
 
 " Ach, mein Cott," cried the Jew, lifting up his hands 
 and eyes to heaven. " Hear him, hear him ; de exchange. 
 Ve have exchange ; vhat more do you vant?" 
 
 "I want the difference, I tell you. I will take four 
 guineas." 
 
 ** Five guineas, four guineas, de difference, de exchange, 
 vhat is all dis ? vhat is de meaning of all dis ? Ah, my 
 pretty gentleman, you laugh ; you mock de poor Jew man." 
 
 I now began to get into a rage. I could not believe that 
 the fellow's ignorance of my meaning was sincere. I saw, 
 indeed, it was a device to cheat me. 
 
 " I tell you what, Mister Solomon," I said, " if you don't 
 give four guineas, I shall give you back your old blanket, 
 and put on my clothes again." 
 
 "Oh, mein Cott! mein Cott! here be one damn devil 
 trick of dis young gentlemans. First of all you ax for 
 de difference, den you ax for de five guineas, den you ax 
 for de four guineas, den you ax for de exchange, den 
 you ax to have you clothes back again, after you have 
 changed dem vid me for dat beautiful sveep's dress. 
 No, no, young gentleman; I am an old man, and you 
 must not play tricks vid de old. Go your vays, go 
 your vays." And he began to push me out of the 
 shop. 
 
 This was a catastrophe for which I was not quite pre-
 
 112 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 pared. I determined to resist so gross an imposition, but 
 Rebecca now came to her husband's assistance. 
 
 " Ah, you pretty young gentlemans," she said, " go your 
 vays quietly ; go your vays, and here is a ha'penny." And 
 she tendered me this splendid coin, still urging me towards 
 the door. Her husband also gently impelled me. I strug- 
 gled, but what could I do ? I was fairly, or rather foully, 
 thrust into the street, the old robber still crying out, " Go 
 your vays, vagabone ; go your vays, vagabone ; von damn 
 vagabone, you be ; you vant to cheat poor man vid your 
 guineas, and your four and your five, and your difference, 
 and your exchange. I never saw so young a rogue; so 
 deep, so deep as de river Thames. Go your vays, go your 
 vays ; you must not stay in de vay." And he slapped the 
 door in my face, leaving me half frantic with passion. 
 
 This was a sorry prelude to the honorable profession on 
 which I was entering. My poor little sweep companion 
 seemed thunderstruck, but we both felt that we were power- 
 less. With heavy hearts we departed, and I accompanied 
 him to his master, who soon enrolled me as one of his 
 supernumeraries without asking any disagreeable questions. 
 There were five of us, all young sweeps with dark eyes, like 
 Spaniards, and white teeth, and merry features, and in truth 
 we were as gamesome as so many trout in a pond. I soon 
 formed a friendship for them, and many were the pranks 
 we played. I was ten times happier than I ever had been 
 at Cavendish Squai-e or Twickenham. Aye, I was happier 
 than the Prince of Wales in Carleton House, or Leicester 
 Fields, with all his Dodingtons around him. 
 
 I continued this life for some months. Many of my 
 adventures were absurd. I had from the first made it a 
 rule to do exactly as I pleased, and when I was sent up 
 into one chimney I very often descended down another. 
 Many, consequently, were the discoveries which I made. 
 1 have stolen into a room where a miser was counting his
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 113 
 
 gold, and a married woman was reading the love letters of 
 not her husband. I have seen the clerk making up the false 
 ledgers which were to defraud his master, and heard the 
 thief-catchers plotting with the ladies of Hockley-in-the- 
 Hole to betray this or that amorous highwayman to the 
 gallows. I have seen the vintner mixing drugs with his 
 wines, and the grocer putting Epsom salts (deprived by 
 fire of its medicinal qualities) into his sugar, to give it the 
 semblance of crystallization. I have come upon a gang of 
 coiners, (but here I narrowly escaped with life,) and have 
 heard a bevy of ladies' maids scandalizing their mistresses 
 with several members of the peerage. 
 
 One night, or rather morning, about four o'clock, my 
 master sent me up a chimney at a large hotel at the West 
 End of the town. We were thus early because it was 
 requisite that the work should be done betimes, to give 
 sufficient opportunity to prepare for a grand wedding- 
 breakfast. When I had completed my chimney, I listened, 
 and heard oaths, blasphemies, and the sound of alterca- 
 tions ; ascending an adjacent flue, I immediately got into 
 the chimney which led out of the adjoining room whence 
 the sounds proceeded, and was at once cognizant of what 
 was going on. A young and silly goose, who had just 
 come into a large fortune, had been decoyed by some dear 
 friends into the hotel for the purpose of spending a pleas- 
 ant evening. When he was half fuddled with Burgundy, 
 dice and cards were introduced, and with the assistance of 
 a few kind associates he was plucked to a terrible extent. 
 All his ready money, consisting of bank notes to the 
 amount of nine or ten thousand pounds, had been already 
 secured, and as he had lost about twenty more I mean in' 
 hundreds his companions were now getting him to put 
 his name to bills or bonds, or some other kind of devilish 
 security, such as my father would have understood, for the 
 amount. But with the dawn of day the silly coxcomb
 
 114 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 seemed to have grown sober, and was gravely protesting 
 that he had been cheated. His companions, who had 
 swallowed large quantities of wine when their purpose was 
 accomplished, and who were infinitely more drunk than 
 gentlemen of their profession usually are, were denouncing 
 vengeance against themselves from hell and Satan, if all 
 had not been as honorable and fair as it was possible that 
 play could be. 
 
 Cried one, "Do you suspect our honor? May the 
 devil," &c. 
 
 " By heaven," cried another, " I was never before so 
 insulted as by our excellent friend here. Only that I love 
 him as my own soul, I would wish the devil," &c. 
 
 " Nay," cried a third, " may the devil come and fetch us 
 all if any thing could be more strictly honorable than 
 every game we played." 
 
 At this moment a sudden thought seized me. I meant 
 only a freak, but it ended differently. I suddenly popped 
 down the chimney and into the room. Flinging a cloud 
 of soot from my dress and face, I said : 
 
 " Very well ; here I am, come to fetch you with me to 
 hell; so prepare." 
 
 The scene that I now beheld was perfectly appalling. 
 The drunken, cowardly cheats, seeing me but indistinctly 
 in the waning candle-light, conscious of their guilt, and 
 with nerves highly excited, rushed all together into a dis- 
 tant corner, and huddled into a mass. One groaned out, 
 another cried, " It is the devil himself," a third fell down 
 into a swoon, the others who were able made for the door, 
 and burst out of the chamber screaming with alarm. See- 
 ing the coast clear, I went up to the table and the cheated 
 sot. I coolly pocketed all the bank notes, and tearing into 
 a thousand pieces the bills and promissory notes which the 
 deluded ninny had been asked to sign, I vanished up the 
 chimney as suddenly as I arrived. And it was well I lost
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 115 
 
 no time, for some of the gang, having fortified themselves 
 with brandy, immediately returned ; but the coast was 
 clear the devil was no longer visible, neither were their 
 notes. I escaped without difficulty ; nor did I ever again 
 return to my old master. By means of an indorsement on 
 one of the notes, I was enabled to discover the wretched 
 fool who had well nigh gambled himself into ruin. I 
 called on him in a few days, and restored his lost property. 
 I informed him of my absurd freak, and told him my sus- 
 picions that he had been robbed. He thanked me, and 
 offered me a hundred pounds, which I refused. The next 
 night I was at home. 
 
 How this came to pass was accomplished in the following 
 wise: As I was leaving the young gentleman's house, a 
 greengrocer who was in the habit of serving some of my 
 father's servants in town came straight up to me. He 
 looked with great earnestness at me, and I saw that I was 
 recognized. I ran off as fast as I could, but he pursued 
 and collared me. 
 
 " Hallo, young master," he said, " where are you going ? 
 You must come home with me." 
 
 I was thunderstruck, and could not utter a word. He 
 called a hackney coach, into which he thrust me almost 
 before I knew where I was. I kicked, and struggled, and 
 pushed ; but I was brought home disgracefully in captivity, 
 and again consigned to my old jail, where I lay for some 
 weeks. I was then sent to Westminster School, of which 
 I entertain any but pleasing recollections. What a shame 
 it is that in childhood, when we might all be happy as 
 sweeps or link boys, we should be consigned over to those 
 pedantic old scoundrels who make that period of our live* 
 as wretched as any subsequent portion of it can ever be !
 
 116 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 How well do I remember my first dreams of love and 
 beauty; with what divine sweetness and delight they re- 
 vive within my withered heart ! So have I seen the rose 
 tree blooming out of the granite, and the golden hyacinth 
 raise her head out of the broken fragments of the past. 
 But they are nought but dreams wild and half-forgotten 
 dreams glimpses of a Paradise that is gone forever. I 
 find myself old hackneyed, hardened vagrant as I am 
 'sometimes weeping over them, weeping as if I were a child 
 or a weak woman ; feeling as a boy once more, and wafted 
 back into that summer sunshine which is in the heart of 
 all when they revert to childhood. For I was only a 
 child, indeed, when these dreams began alas ! that I can- 
 not be a child again and feel as then. And thus it was 
 that these emotions had their birth. 
 
 Among the pictures which my mother had brought with 
 her from the East was one that the moment I began to per- 
 ceive and feel moved me with a strange fascination. It 
 was only a sketch, but oh, how lovely was that sketch ! It 
 was a profile likeness of a young girl of twenty. The 
 complexion was delicate and pure as the rainbow tint that 
 is on an Indian shell; only that it was softer, fairer, more 
 exquisitely bloom-like. The eyes were dark and bright, 
 the lashes- long, and like a silken vail over those crystal 
 fountains of thought. The hair fell in loose clouds of 
 shining brown over the neck and bosom, and one of the 
 hands held a bunch of flowers ; but these were indistinct, 
 and had been but half touched by the artist. The eye- 
 brows were delicately limned, and were a perfect study to 
 contemplate. The mouth was beautiful when you viewed 
 it closely, but when you scanned the picture at a distance 
 there was a severe dignity about it that impressed you
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 117 
 
 with a sacred awe of her who was portrayed, and effectually 
 checked any feeling but that of respectful admiration. It 
 was a face to look upon and love ; but it enshrined a spirit 
 that you might also worship, nor deem that you dishonored 
 Heaven by paying homage to one of its choicest works. 
 No frivolity was there ; all was pure, holy, refined. The 
 thoughtful brow, the marble stillness of the features, which 
 yet were flesh and blood, and belonged to one who had a 
 thorough woman's heart within her, and could die for him 
 she loved ; the firm mouth, the liquid eyes that gave the 
 face its sweetest, softest charm never shall I forget them ; 
 and though it is sixty years since first I saw that charming 
 portrait, still it shines fair over my memory, and flowers in 
 beauty out of the ashes of my soul. 
 
 Well ! it became my passion. I could not tear myself 
 away from it. I was but six years old indeed I do not 
 think I was quite six but in feeling I was six-aud-twenty. 
 I stole away every hour to look at it ; to gaze upon it as 
 the Guebre gazes on the sun ; to worship it ; to take it 
 into my heart of hearts as if it were some holy spirit 
 whom I longed to enshrine within. I had heard of the 
 Guardian Angel, who with heavenly love accompanies 
 every human being, and guards him from temptation 
 this, one of the most beautiful of the Popish legends, is 
 now rejected by the priests, and laughed at as a myth. It 
 served them in the dark ages, and now is flung aside with 
 scorn. Yet there were moments when I half believed it, 
 and said to my heart, " Even such as this is the Guardian 
 Angel that watches over me." I have caught myself bend- 
 ing over my shoulder, or rushing in front of a looking- 
 glass to see whether I could not by chance get a glimpse 
 of that invisible one of the celestials who was my appointed 
 guide and guardian on the earth. I will see if they are 
 alike, I said ; but I never could catch the heavenly sprite. 
 She eluded me she would not be beheld. Yet I had no
 
 118 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 doubt in beauty she was the counterpart of that divine 
 portrait on which I so loved to look. Morning, noon, and 
 night I gazed upon it ; I could not tear myself away. I 
 was a devotee. My mother saw it, knew it, and scolded 
 me ; but I did not care for this. I neglected the few ele- 
 mentary books that were placed before me; I cared for 
 nothing but my picture. Thus time passed until I was at 
 Westminster school, and sick of its restraints and rods. 
 
 One day as I was sauntering listlessly through one of 
 the parks, looking at the sky, and wondering what fantastic 
 form the clouds would next assume, I heard a merry laugh, 
 which made every nerve within me quiver. It went into 
 my very soul, and seemed to meet its echo there. I turned 
 round, and saw a young girl with a middle-aged man. He 
 was short, sturdy, common-place ; and evidently belonged 
 to the lower classes, as we who are so sublimety raised upon 
 Olympian heights above them condescend to call the work- 
 ing members of society. I did not give him more than one 
 glance ; all my gaze was concentrated on the young girl. 
 She seemed in beauty like my picture ; only hers was of a 
 more youthful type ; for she was not more, I think, than 
 sixteen or seventeen probably not quite so much. She 
 was dressed simply, but simplicity accorded with her pure, 
 innocent, and open face ; there was a frank, cheerful look 
 about her, like a sunshiny day, that at once flashed glad- 
 ness on the soul, and made you happy, you knew not why. 
 She did not see me she did not mark those dark and fiery 
 eyes that gazed intensely on her if she had, she would 
 have burned beneath them. She continued her conversa- 
 tion and merry laugh, and passed on. A powerful spell 
 moved me. I followed her ; I never once lost sight of her 
 all that day. I knew not whither they went, or what they 
 did, or whether they sat or walked ; I only saw one bright 
 form, and that I followed mechanically. She entered a 
 house, the door closed, and I was in darkness. Now for
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 119 
 
 the first time I looked about me. I was in a strange, un- 
 known land. The houses were old and wretched; the 
 locality exhibited all the symptoms of poverty. The very 
 house into which the girl and her companion instinct 
 said, " He is her father " had gone, seemed mean enough. 
 I was bewildered frightened ; I began to wonder, for the 
 first time, how I should get home. I was tired, also; I 
 saw an old woman hobbling along, and asked her what 
 place this was. She looked at me with a drunken, fixed 
 stare ; surveying my fine clothes, as if she had a mind to 
 strip me ; then seeing one or two persons approaching, she 
 said, " This is Blackwall, my pretty dear. What brings 
 you so far from home ?" I had no mind to answer her, 
 but calling a coach, I was driven back to Westminster, and 
 alighted just outside the school. When I got into our 
 dormitory that night, I could think of nothing but this 
 lovely girl. Now for the first time occurred to me the 
 thought, how like the picture she appeared ! " This is but 
 an image," I said; "here is the living reality. Oh! that I 
 could gaze on her forever." I tossed and tumbled about; 
 sleep was banished from my eyes. In the morning I at- 
 tempted to get my lessons; I might as well have attempted 
 to fly. The thing was impossible. I was flogged, but my 
 dreams consoled me. The next day I tried, and again 
 failed ; I could not remember a single word. I was flogged 
 again. No matter, I did not feel it. I did not care for it. 
 Again a third clay came, and I was dunce as before. I was 
 flogged, sorely flogged on this occasion. " Why should I 
 endure this," I asked myself, " when I am free and can go 
 away if I like ?" That night I disappeared. I scarcely 
 know how I got to Blackwall, but I found myself there 
 next day. I had some difficulty in discovering the house, 
 for now all the shops were open, and when I had last been 
 there they were all closed. At length I found it. The father 
 was behind the counter. He was a fishmonger. I had
 
 120 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 taken the precaution of coming away in some old clothes ; I 
 now boldly went in and said : 
 
 " Master, do you want a boy ?" 
 
 He looked at me with some surprise ; I suppose he saw I 
 was not designed to be a fishmonger's apprentice. He was 
 silent for some time, as if he thought I was but making 
 game of him, and would go away when I had my jest. I 
 repeated, " Master, do you want a boy ?" 
 
 "Get away, you young jackanapes," said he, "and let 
 me mind my business." 
 
 " Master," I answered, " this is business ; if you want a 
 boy, take me ; I want a place, and I will serve you faith- 
 fully." 
 
 He looked at me again. 
 
 " What can you do ?" said he. 
 
 " Any thing you ask me to do in the way of your trade," 
 I replied. " I will sweep your shop, sell your fish, and go 
 your errands. I have no home, and I should like to stay 
 with you." 
 
 The old man mused again he was evidently surprised. 
 
 " Well," he said, " I'll try you. Who are you ? Where 
 do you come from ?" 
 
 " My name is John Smith ; my parents are dead, and I 
 have just come up to London from the country to seek my 
 fortune." 
 
 " Poor boy," says the old man, "if what you say be true, 
 I'm sorry for you. I suppose you're hungry ; come in." 
 
 I went in ; he led me to a back parlor. I expected to 
 see the radiant being there for whom I was undergoing 
 this degradation. There was only an elderly female she 
 proved to be the fishmonger's wife. She was knitting with 
 great deliberation. The fishmonger introduced me in a few 
 words. They gave me food, sympathized with me, and 
 took me into their employ. I was to go errands, to hir.vk 
 and cry fish but they did not know that I was sometimes
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 121 
 
 to catch a glimpse of her who was like the Angel of God 
 to my heart. I lived with them for a year. Never man 
 had more faithful servant. 
 
 Once or twice a-day, I saw the fair Elizabeth such was 
 her name. These stolen views of heaven repaid me for all. 
 Yet I was nothing to her. I was only an errand boy 
 crying fish and cleaning knives. Her thoughts were far 
 away. Was she in love ? She sometimes gave me a letter 
 to deliver, and the man to whom I delivered it was a foot- 
 man, finely powdered, gilt and dressed, who waited for it 
 at a public house near. With what trembling innocence 
 she placed it in my hand ! Her sweet eye seemed conscious 
 of a something which showed that her heart was ill at ease. 
 She offered no caution as to secrecy, but instinct told me 
 that I must not mention it ; and I feared that if I did, I 
 should lose those momentary intercourses with her, so full 
 of rapture to my soul. She must have known that I loved 
 her, I looked at her with such an earnest and enamoured 
 gaze, during which I felt my face flush. I quivered in my 
 every nerve, and trembled with a wild delight, until I 
 almost fainted away before her. But she never gave me 
 any token of sympathy. Poor girl ! Her whole heart was 
 doubtless fixed upon one, and I was but an orphan fed by 
 her father's bounty, and condemned to slavery all my life. 
 There were moments when I thought I should fall before 
 her, take her by the hand and confess all my name, my 
 rank, my prospects, declaring my passion with that wild 
 eloquence which flowed from my lips, when I found myself 
 alone, and beseeching her to wait a little longer and become 
 wholly mine. But I was only fourteen. She was some 
 years older, and was a woman in appearance and in feeling. 
 The hazard was greater than I chose to risk. I said to 
 myself, " I shall be immediately expelled from her presence 
 as an impostor, and shall never see her again. She will be
 
 122 EDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 
 
 lost to me forever. Let me wait yet wait and work ;" and 
 so I did. 
 
 There was a fellow named Matthews Henry Matthews 
 who had been introduced into our house as accountant 
 by Dr. Young, the author of the " Night Thoughts." The 
 man was worthy of the master ; they were birds of a feather. 
 Young was a sneaking, lying, dirty sycophant, who would 
 any day have licked the mud off the boots of any noble lord 
 or lady who could get him a place, or give him a purse. 
 All sense of self-respect was extinct within him. This 
 Matthews was an animal of the same class. He was not 
 destitute of talent ; but I detested him for his falsehood, 
 hollowness, and selfish rascality. This miserable creature 
 was brought up in a Jesuit school. He was a tall, awkward 
 man, of scorbutic habit the poisoned eruptions of disease, 
 with a large hyena eye, a square forehead, a hideous mouth, 
 hands, or rather talons, exactly like a vulture's or a kite's 
 claws, and he had all the qualities of those fine birds; 
 being secretive, foul, gluttonous, sensual, cunning, and 
 grasping. Yet he was smooth, pliant, smiling ; and the 
 general mob of mankind, who are as blind as moles, would 
 think him any thing but the knave he was. Mr. Wortley 
 Montagu highly regarded him, and used him for many 
 purposes ; and under the tutelage of this individual it hap 
 pened that I spent a good deal of time. What exact duty 
 he filled in our house I can scarcely tell. He got up statis- 
 tics, and was a sort of secretary and deputy liar when ugly 
 questions had to be answered ; kept accounts for my father, 
 and aired my lady's chemises and combed her lap-dogs. 
 
 I was on one of my usual errands for my master, and 
 crying "fresh fish! fresh fish!" with all the force of my 
 lungs, when a sailor came up to me, and saying, " Master, 
 let me see your wares," detained me for some time. I 
 showed him my goods and chattels plaice, flounders,
 
 BDWAED WORTLEY MONTAGU. 123 
 
 lobsters, crabs, and soles, and had nearly concluded my 
 bargain, when he suddenly said 
 
 "Wait, wait till I ask this old gentleman about them;" 
 and he pointed to two persons who stood close by, and 
 whom in my eagerness to sell I had not observed before. 
 I looked at them. In the first I at once recognized Mat- 
 thews ; the second was our old domestic, Jupiter, who had 
 carried me in his arms when I was a baby, and with whom 
 I had alwaj^s been a favorite. These two had been to 
 Blackwall on some business for Mr. Montagu, and hearing 
 me cry out as I have above mentioned, immediately knew 
 my voice ; they saw me pass, and employed the sailor to 
 detain me in conversation, that they might make them- 
 selves more certain. The instant I saw them I guessed 
 their object. I left my basket and fled home. But I had 
 scarcely got housed, when they entered ; the name of my 
 master painted on the basket had led them to his house, 
 and there was a discovery and a row. The honest fisher- 
 man was faultless. He had behaved with humanity; nay, 
 with great generosity. I told them so; I narrated all; 
 but not the true cause of my flight. He gave me the best 
 of characters, and I was again dragged home, leaving the 
 whole family in tears for my loss, in which I also joined 
 them with flowing eyes. 
 
 But though they brought me back to Westminster, and 
 placed me under my former taskmasters, with the most 
 positive orders as to close custody and strict vigilance, 
 they forgot that I also had a will of my own, and had 
 already evinced a resolution to carry out that will when 
 I pleased. I now indeed began to pride myself on my 
 numerous flights, as Jack Sheppard did of the many jails 
 he had escaped from, aud I began to find a wild charm in 
 this varied vagabond species of existence, such as I cannot 
 describe. The main one, I suppose, was a sense of thorough 
 independence; there was also, perhaps, a hidden delight in
 
 124 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 feeling that I was walking the world under a species of 
 mask, and that I could at any time change a position appa- 
 rently most lowly for that of the heir of the richest man in 
 London. I saw, too, a most odd and diversified mode of 
 life ; and learned the ways and manners of the poor, their 
 thoughtless follies, their improvident luxury ; their exist- 
 ence wholly in the present, with utter heedlessness of the 
 morrow, which are the three main sources of all their wants 
 and miseries. The English character presents a greater 
 mixture of eccentricity and humor than any other that I 
 have ever examined ; and I seemed to myself a sort of 
 spectator of a real drama of life, sometimes comic, some- 
 times deeply tragical, but on all occasions interesting, and 
 played, as it were, on the breathing stage of the actual 
 world for my own particular amusement and instruction. 
 As to Mr. Montagu, when his first rage at my disappear- 
 ance had exploded, he cared very little to make any further 
 inquiry whether I was dead or alive ; and he thenceforward 
 behaved as I always knew instinctively he would, with the 
 most sublime indifference as to what became of me. From 
 Matthews I, of course, received several lessons in deceit, 
 which, though intended apparently for my benefit, operated 
 still more in increasing the aversion in which I held that 
 smooth-tongued schemer. In vain he suggested to me that 
 my true policy was to humor Mr. Montagu; to attend 
 regularly at church ; to give in to his ways and crotchets 
 in all particulars ; and to be a dutiful and obedient son. 
 " Humbug the old fool," he said ; " humbug, as the grand 
 winner of all things, and the great conqueror of men !" 
 But I would not humbug. What is the good of doing so, 
 if, when you have won all things, you scorn yourself? 
 Matthews could not understand this. The glittering pros- 
 pect of gold and power which he held forth before me as 
 the reward and price of my subservience, had no influence 
 whatever on my mind. That there might be a payment
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 125 
 
 for suc-i degradation was one of the main reasons why I 
 was always resolute in following out my own purposes. 
 Had I been lured only by the moral beauty of filial submis- 
 sion to a father who had at least no active vice, as against 
 myself, but was merely the basest of mankind in grubbing 
 and hoarding gold from the most filthy sources, I might 
 possibly have sunk into the level of the other honorable 
 Toms, and Jacks, and Freds who went about the metropo- 
 lis, heaping upon their absent fathers' heads all the scorn 
 and contempt they could accumulate ; while in the parental 
 presence and in their letters home they were the most affec- 
 tionate, dutiful, and obedient of sons ; a little gay perhaps, 
 but wanting in respect to their honored sires never, oh, 
 never. 
 
 But this course I did not choose to take. My father and 
 mother did not care for me, nor did I feel one atom of love 
 for them. My mother in truth hated me virulently, and 
 made no secret of that hate ; but I almost fancy my father's 
 silent scorn was even still more biting. Matthews would 
 not or could not understand my notions. To him the hope 
 of a million of money would have been quite enough to 
 make him devote a whole life to every species of infamy. 
 In this view I do not say he was singular, for there are 
 but few men who would not imitate him. But nature made 
 me one of these few, and all Jesuit counsels were wasted 
 on me. On the whole, I am not sorry that they were. I 
 would rather be the wanderer I am than Bute, with all my 
 father's money in his coffers ; und a transmigration after 
 death into the form of a rat, cockroach, a dog, fish, or 
 something equally noisome and detestable. 
 
 Three months longer at Westminster sickened me of it 
 for life. I resolved to fly at the first opportunity, and I 
 did so. My first visit was to my old master at Blackwall. 
 But he was a changed man changed and altered for the 
 worse. The sturdy frame was bent, the once keen eye was
 
 126 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 dim ; the fire within the man had burned out, and he was but 
 the cinders of a human being. A revolution of twenty years 
 seemed to have done its work upon him. His hair was 
 white, his voice tremulous, his step once so sturdy, so 
 bold, so freeman-like was transformed into a slipshod 
 creep. When he saw me he burst into tears ; he could not 
 speak, but led me in silence into the little room behind the 
 shop, which had been once his parlor. I asked for his 
 good woman. This question renewed his grief. I looked 
 round, but saw her not. "She is dead," he muttered. 
 "And Miss Elizabeth?" I asked. 
 
 "Gone, gone," said the old man, "gone, and left me 
 desolate and heart-broken." 
 
 I was stricken with horror. Could it be possible that 
 both were dead both in so short a period? My eyes, 
 I suppose, questioned him, for my tongue was incapable of 
 doing so. He shook his head ; his tears broke out afresh. 
 " No," he said, " not dead ; worse, worse, worse !" 
 I now began to suspect the truth. My unlucky letter- 
 carrying was beginning to rise up in judgment against me. 
 I learned it at length from the old man. 
 
 After I left, she had grown melancholy and silent ; she 
 was absent often from her meals ; she was not communi- 
 cative as of old ; the frank smile vanished ; the sweet, 
 musical laugh was unheard. One night she disappeared. 
 She left a letter on the table, saying she was gone to be 
 married to a gentleman with whom she had long corre- 
 sponded, and who loved her. In a little time she would 
 return, and all would be well. She blessed her parents for 
 all their love and kindness ; she would be.their most dutiful 
 and affectionate daughter in her new state. In vain they 
 made inquiry after her. No tidings could they learn. At 
 length a letter came in a distracted handwriting it was 
 their daughter's. She had been deceived, betrayed, dis- 
 honored. The person with whom she fled proved to be a
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 127 
 
 married man. He was of high rank, a senator and privy 
 councillor, and when the discovery was made he proposed 
 to her to continue as his mistress, citing high and royal 
 example for the iniquity. But this she spurned. She had 
 now abandoned him, but dared not face her home. What 
 she was to do she knew not, but she craved forgiveness of 
 God and them. They must forget that she had ever lived. 
 To all her kindred she was dead forever. Thus ran the 
 wild epistle. The mother sickened and died ; the old father 
 was dying. But he wished once again to hear that voice 
 of melody, and listen to one silvery note of love. And his 
 tears again fell thick and fast upon his pale cheek. 
 
 I was myself also in an agony of grief and rage. But I 
 will not venture to describe it. This incident gave me a 
 new horror of civilized life. Thus, I said, it is, the rich 
 are ever pre} T ing on the poor ; the powerful are crushing 
 the feeble. The coronet of my lord is glorified by the 
 number of his victims ; the chariot of the great rolls over 
 broken hearts. Let me fly forever from these haunts of 
 villany. What have I seen in all my life hitherto but 
 wickedness? And what is worst of all, wickedness tri- 
 umphant ! Why is this good man for good and honest 
 he was made miserable in his old age, his household 
 desolated and disgraced, his wife killed, his daughter torn 
 from him to gratify the momentary whim of some gilded 
 coxcomb, who now probably moves in courts or senates, 
 the observed of all observers ? Let me abandon such 
 haunts forever. Let me seek nature in the woods, the 
 mountains, or on the ocean. Let me separate myself from 
 those with whom vice is the daily business, and dwell apart 
 from human kind, or at all events seek them where they 
 are uncontaniinated. Let me become a pirate on the glo- 
 rious sea; a brigand in the wild green forest; an Ishmael 
 among men ; nay, a very beggar on the wayside ; a tramp 
 under the splendid arch of heaven, with the winds and
 
 128 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 sunbeams for my friends ; rather than be one among this 
 wealthy wicked rabblement. Now know I what that Ro- 
 man Kaisar meant when he wished that mankind had but 
 one neck, that he might decapitate them all at a single 
 stroke. It was not blood-thirstiness made him thus cry 
 out, but that "fierce indignation," against human vice, 
 which ate up the fiery heart of Swift, and which must have 
 appeared to this sated wearer of the purple in its most 
 odious and terrible aspect surrounded as he was every 
 moment by all the subserviency, falsehood and meanness 
 of an imperial court. But was it more degraded than our 
 own, as I saw it ? No, no ; a thousand times no ! With 
 an aching heart, I left the old man. I came back to Lon- 
 don. By accident I found myself close by the Sussex 
 wagon; a great lumbering affair, like a farmhouse on 
 wheels, and drawn by four fat punches. It was going to 
 Bredhemston, but where Bredhemston was I neither knew 
 nor cared. I only knew that I was about to abandon 
 civilization and its rascalities. I easily bargained with the 
 driver for a seat as far as Bredhemston, and lost no time 
 in getting into my berth. Of my adventures in this won- 
 derful machine, I have nothing to relate. We rode for 
 some days, stopping at queer inns with great fireplaces, 
 and public houses at night. We took in and let out several 
 odd characters. As we got deeper into Sussex, and near 
 the seacoast, I heard a good deal of the gypsies who were 
 encamped about the Downs of Brighthelmstone, for such I 
 afterwards found was the original of that which our wag- 
 oner had so curiously abbreviated. And when I was at 
 length shot out of this Noah's ark I determined to seek 
 my fortune among those wandering people, and if that 
 failed, to scramble on in some way to Portsmouth, and go 
 on board ship, careless whither I was borne, so that I was 
 wafted from home, and kindred, and companions, and the 
 debasing influence of wealth, rank, state, and civilized
 
 BDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 129 
 
 society. I looked forward with considerable curiosity to 
 the new drama of events which I thought was opening 
 before me; and doubted not that I should achieve rare 
 exploits among the people of that most poetical of all gyp- 
 sies glorious John Banyan. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IT was a lovely afternoon in rosy summer when I got to 
 Portslade, a little hamlet just outside of Brighthelmstone. 
 At the side of a green lane I saw something like an en- 
 campment. A thin cloud of azure smoke rose up in waving 
 column against a clump of elm trees, and a dog barked 
 quick and sharp as my footstep beat against the short 
 emerald sward. There were about a dozen tents in all, of 
 various colors and sizes. A crowd of wagons and a troop 
 of horses were scattered about in the adjacent open fields. 
 As I advanced, a young girl came towards me ; her eyes 
 were jet black, with a fixed fiery star in the centre, which 
 gazed upon you with a lurid light that seemed to petrify 
 the very heart. She was clothed in scarlet and black, 
 bordered with Asiatic flowers, and was crowned with a 
 vivid red headdress, fringed with golden ornaments, set 
 with blue stones ; she wore a gold chain in triple folds 
 around her neck, massive as a king's collar, but dark and 
 tawny colored, from long exposure to the air. Her lips 
 were thick, but not coarse such as I have since seen in 
 the mighty Indo-Egyptian idols of the past ; and the nose 
 was hooked, like that of the Memnon on the banks of the 
 Nile. Many and many a time since have I beheld her type 
 in Nubia, and in the mighty awful depths of the Himma- 
 layas. Her tread was light and bounding, like that which
 
 130 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 characterizes all the wandering tribe ; she was close upon 
 you, like some wild dweller of the forest, almost as sud- 
 denly as she appeared, and ere you were aware. Seen thus, 
 she gave me the notion of a leopardess, though at that time 
 I had never seen one. I afterwards found I was not mis- 
 taken. 
 
 As I had determined, if possible, to dwell among these 
 people, and make their tents my tents, their home my home 
 for the rest of my life, I had before carefully meditated in 
 what manner I should best make my entrance among them. 
 The only valuable I possessed, in addition to my fine 
 clothes, and one of the guineas which poor Steele had given 
 me, and which I had never parted with during this long 
 interval, was a gold watch, of curious antique workman- 
 ship, which my mother had brought from the East, and in 
 some capricious mood, ere yet I had been witness of her 
 shame, had hung around my neck, from which it had never 
 parted since. On the back was chased the arms of the 
 Montagus ; the eagle displayed. The border was quaintly 
 painted, and had about a dozen oriental characters graven 
 on it, which no one had been able to decipher; and on 
 which I myself set a strange value, as if it were some won- 
 drous talisman on which my fate depended. I had often, 
 while at school, amused myself with my fellows by pre- 
 tending to accomplish various puzzling tricks through the 
 operation of this talisman, and I had half persuaded many 
 of them that I was the only person living who understood 
 and could explain this mystic tablet. The chain that hung 
 to it was of lion's hair, twisted into a thick cable of endur- 
 ing strength, and there was a key, and two or three seals 
 of agate, or some other Indian stone, on which were also 
 cut some strange devices of far-off lands. 
 
 I now resolved to astonish the gypsy it was a schoolboy 
 trick, grave reader and as she came close to me, and be- 
 fore she spoke, I pulled out my watch, and putting it to
 
 . EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 131 
 
 my ear, I suddenly cried out, "Ziga zi." The gypsy 
 started at the strange, unusual sound. Whether it really 
 conveyed any idea to her mind I know not ; but I could 
 see that she marked the watch and its graven border, and 
 scanned me with a curious eye of fear or wonder. She 
 called out in a shrill voice, and immediately an old hag, 
 wrinkled, dwarf-like, black, but fierce-ej'ed as a panther, 
 came out of one of the tents. Her hair was dark as jet, 
 and she wore an ebon-colored robe, girdled by a broad belt, 
 on which I could plainly see, worked in gold thread, some- 
 what tarnished, three or four characters similar in forma- 
 tion to those on my watch and seals. Her step was slow, 
 her glance fixed and full of surprise for I still held my 
 watch to my ear, and the seals, glittering in the sun and 
 dangling about, probably made manifest to both that the 
 bauble before them was also from the Lord of the Sun. 
 She stood gazing fixedly at me for, I think, three or four 
 minutes, leaning all the while on a stout staff with a 
 quaintly fashioned head. At length she spake, but in a 
 language which I could not understand. I shook my head 
 to her to intimate that I did not know what she meant 
 and I looked at my watch, as if reading in its page some 
 deep revelations of the future. She mused again, and 
 whispered to the younger one. At length she said: 
 " Come you here, little one, on business of Egypt ?" 
 " Aye, indeed," said I, " mother, on business of Egypt 
 do I come." 
 
 There was something so weird, mysterious and witch-like 
 in all these proceedings that I resolved on the instant, as 
 if instinctively, to adapt myself to all the}' did and said, 
 like an adept of their own ; and this subsequently proved 
 to be the most sagacious policy I could have devised, for 
 my sudden apparition, as it afterwards proved, filled their 
 wild brains with an idea that I was somehow mysteriously 
 sent among them, and my fearlessness and cool manner
 
 132 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 confirmed 4hem in the thought. Had they known from 
 what a pair of accomplished diplomatists I had descended, 
 their surprise, perhaps, would not have been so great. 
 
 " And what business of Egypt came you upon ?" asked 
 the aged crone, regarding me with the same keen, and 
 searching, and lightning-like glance that her companion 
 had before bestowed upon me. 
 
 " Behold," said I, extending the watch before her, " it is 
 written here." And pointing to the seals, " Here you, 
 wise queen, can doubtless read both." 
 
 The hag took the watch out of my hand ; her eyes spar- 
 kled as she held the golden toy ; she peered closely into 
 both it and the seals, but she could evidently make nothing 
 of either; I could see, however, that she was favorably 
 impressed with my credentials, and somehow began to 
 regard me as one of themselves, though how or wherefore 
 sent was a puzzle that did not seem likely to be solved. 
 This was just what I desired. I knew that a secret was 
 the very thing to serve me with the fair. Seeing their per- 
 plexit3 r , I asked : 
 
 " Hast thou read what is herein written, mother ?" 
 
 She shook her head, as if admitting her inability to do so. 
 
 "Then," said I, "I will do so;" and taking the watch 
 again from her hand, 1 muttered some unintelligible jargon, 
 to which they both listened with perplexed wonder ; they 
 were unable, however, to comprehend it. 
 
 It would have been much more wonderful still, if they 
 could have done so, for it was a hash of Greek and Latin, 
 mixed up at the moment, and which meant just nothing at 
 all something like our school incantation, oxus, doxus, 
 glorioxus, &c., &c. 
 
 "And what, little one of Egypt, means this message ?" 
 again asked the elder of the two women. 
 
 " This," I replied ; and in a deep, solemn voice repeated, 
 " The heir of the Stars, the foster-child of the Queen Ser-
 
 EDWAKD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 133 
 
 pent, the beloved of the dark Goddess of the Woods, seeks a 
 hospitable tent and soft pillow. 1 ' 
 
 They scanned me again for some moments with their 
 glittering eyes. I bore their scrutiny without flinching. 
 The crone again took the watch out of my hand; she 
 breathed over it, and smelled at the lion-hair guard chain. 
 The whole thing seemed to her to be if I might judge by 
 appearance the most extraordinary incident in her life. 
 Then coming towards me, she took me by the hand, and 
 turned the palm up, minutely inspecting the lines and in- 
 tersections ; occasionally, also, gazing with an inquisitive 
 search into my eyes ; and flashing out of her own the clear- 
 est light, that seemed full of a divining spirit. At length 
 she seemed satisfied. She led me into her tent, and seated 
 me at her right hand ; she hung the watch around my neck, 
 and stroked my hair, and head, and cheeks ; her hand was 
 soft as down, though seventy winters had revolved since 
 first it pressed the mother's nipple. She set before me 
 choice food, and preserved fruits of rare delicacy; she 
 poured out of an earthen pitcher water, cool, clear, and 
 bright as crystal ; and of so sweet and pure a flavor to the 
 palate, that it seemed to taste like ethereal wine. 
 
 As the evening gathered in and the violet-colored clouds 
 folded over the distant hills, and the glittering stars, one 
 by one, peered out of the transcendent arch of heaven, the 
 men and women of the tribe gradually came in, and re- 
 counted, with many a wild sign and gesture, the varied 
 chances of the day. I found they were exiles, or wanderers 
 from many lands ; the gipsy of England, the Bohemian of 
 France, the Gitano of Italy, the Zingari of Spain ; and that 
 their trades or callings were even more numerous than the 
 countries from which they came. Some forged nails and 
 horse-shoes; some were farriers, tinkers, and braziers; 
 others musicians, others basket-makers ; all the women 
 told fortunes, and exhibited with glee the silver fruits of 
 9
 
 134 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 their day's adventure. When they had supped, but not 
 until then, the old woman, who appeared to be a person in 
 authority, presented me and my watch before the assembled 
 group. In a few words she explained the mystery of my 
 appearance, my words of introduction, my missive from 
 some unknown power to their tents and households. She 
 exhibited, with seeming awe, to some of the oldest men, the 
 mystic watch and seals, and I could see that these made a 
 powerful impression. After a long consultation, carried 
 on more by signs than words, and when words were 
 necessary, in a language which I could not understand, it 
 appeared to be finally agreed that I was to be received 
 among their number ; and the men shook me by the hand 
 in rotation, beginning with the oldest ; and the women 
 kissed me, ending with the youngest. This latter portion 
 of the feast pleased me most. 
 
 It was determined that I should be solemnly initiated 
 among the brotherhood, and a day was fixed for the cere- 
 mony. Gitanos came from all parts of the country ; the 
 soft and sunny Downs were thick with tents. There was a 
 ruined old chapel of the bygone Papal daj T s, close by the 
 green lane, and in view of the blue sea ; and though only 
 the gray gable ends, and half a tower remained, still it fur- 
 nished a sort of rude accommodation, well adapted for the 
 sight that was to take place. On the twelfth day from my 
 first visit to these strange people, the mj-stery began. My 
 skin was darkly dyed all over with walnut juice, so that in 
 appearance, at least, I was a perfect African. A new suit 
 of clothes, half Oriental, half Spanish, was supplied by the 
 quick fingers of the younger gypsies, who seemed to take 
 a wild maternal glee in arraying me in this new finery. 
 When I was brought into the chapel I was amazed to see 
 a large idol, three-headed, black, and cross-legged, but 
 whether of stone, metal, or wood, I do not now remember. 
 A chain of ivory, Carved into the likeness of human skulls,
 
 EDWARD WOETLBY MONTAGU. 135 
 
 surrounded the waist and neck of the idol ; and in its hand 
 it held a bunch of flowers. But no prayer was offered up, 
 no adoration was gone through ; it appeared to have been 
 brought there merely to be present, as if nothing of so im- 
 portant a nature could be transacted in its absence, or 
 without its knowledge or permission. I was led around 
 the chapel twelve times ; at the last I stood before the idol, 
 the bunch of flowers was taken out of its hand, and placed 
 over my heart; some strange mystical signs were then 
 made about my head, chest, and back ; my eyes and mouth 
 were kissed, and I was dubbed by a new name, which I 
 always thenceforth bore namely, Zala Mayna. 
 
 After these things were done, the}' carried me far away, 
 into the very heart of the Downs ; we got there when the 
 moon and stars were in their full splendor of light. It was 
 midnight ; and such a glorious midnight of blue skies, and 
 transparent silvery brightness. I have seen such often in 
 the east, or in the Hesperian land, or over the golden 
 sierras of Hispania, or iu the Mexican steppes ; but seldom 
 in our own clime of fogs, shop-keepers, and clouds. There 
 was an immense tent erected, and blazing with light from 
 brightly polished lamps; the oil was perfumed, for the 
 fragrance was rich and exquisite. There was no table, but 
 the supper was served on the green carpet, in plates of 
 China, painted with a brilliancy and fire of fancy such as 
 I had never seen, and which was worthy of the halls of 
 kings. It was probably two hundred years old. Had it 
 been ransacked from some royal palace ? from Samarkand 
 or Delhi ? or had it travelled further still by some unex- 
 plained method of pillage or contraband from the imperial 
 gardens of Cathay ? Goblets of Venetian glass, bottles, 
 and curiously shaped decanters, filled with Oriental wines, 
 cool, sweet, and not intoxicating, were served round ; and 
 when the repast was over, silver ewers, of the most quaint 
 and ancient form probably the work of four or five hun-
 
 136 EDWAKD WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 dred years before were brought in, filled with perfumed 
 waters, in which we dipped our fingers. Then one of the 
 most aged gypsies, rising up, commanded silence. All was 
 still as death. He held in my hand the watch and seals, 
 and looking on me steadily, spoke as follows : 
 
 " Blessed are the true Galore the true Galore, who are 
 the Sons of the Gods. There is no other race or people, 
 equally the favored of the Powers, as the true Galore of the 
 east. From the Sun and Moon we came ; the spheres of 
 golden fields and silver mountains ; there the trees have 
 leaves of pure emerald ; diamonds, amethysts and sapphire 
 are their priceless fruit. And ever}' stream is pebbled with 
 the finest gold, and every drop of dew is silver, and every 
 blade of grass is finer than the Cashmere fleece. And these, 
 indeed, once were ours, and ours alone once, alas ! in the 
 daj-s gone by, for we are the true Galore, the blessed Sons 
 of the Gods, and the wanderers from the Sun and Moon. 
 But when the Mighty Powers stood asunder, and discussion 
 rose, and there was discord in the Spheres and Cycles, 
 then the true Galore were in trouble ; and they no longer 
 dwelled in happiness ; and the Sun cast them forth ; and 
 the Moon no longer embraced them in her silver hills ; and 
 we were exiles, and deep was our sorrow, and sad the pain 
 and misery of exile. Then came an Eagle unto the true 
 Galore, saying unto them, ' O, Galore, why do ye lament?' 
 And the Galore said, ' We lament because we are in dark- 
 ness ; and the Sun gives us not his golden light, nor does 
 the Moon shed her silver beam over us.' And the Eagle 
 said, ' It is fated this is destiny ; but it shall not be always 
 so. For ye, the true Galore, are the Sons of the Gods, and 
 your powers are above those of all other existences.' " 
 
 The old man ceased, and the assembled gypsies clapped 
 their hands, and joy sparkled in their eyes, and they cried 
 out 
 
 "Good! good!"
 
 EDWARD WOR I'L BY MONTAGU. 137 
 
 Then the old man resumed 
 
 "And when the Eagle spake these words, he said unto 
 the King of the Galore, ' Take these wings and fly and seek 
 another place, for the Sun and Moon will receive ye no 
 longer.' And the King of the Galore took the wings, and 
 he fled nine days ; and at length he came unto a great land 
 a land of lofty mountains and green plains, and mighty 
 forests, and vast rivers and lakes, beautiful as crystal. And 
 the King of the Galore said : 'This land is good ; behold I 
 will bring my people unto this land.' And he again took 
 the Eagle's wings, and he flew nine days, and he came back 
 unto his own people, and he said, ' I have found a land, and 
 a fair land, and there are rich plains and noble mountains, 
 and far extending forests, and flowing rivers, and lakes 
 bordered with trees and flowers, and there may the Galore 
 abide.' And they were glad; and they said, 'Be it so.' 
 And he flew, and the Galore followed the King ; and they 
 sang joyfully, nor did their hearts once fail them. And 
 this was the burden of their song ' Happy are the true 
 Galore the true Galore, who are the Sons of the Gods !' " 
 
 Again the gypsies- clapped their hands, crying out, 
 "Good! good!" 
 
 "And when the Galore came unto this new land, they 
 were a great and happy people, and they begat sons and 
 daughters, and they feasted merrily, and they sang and 
 played sweet music, and they danced beneath the sun and 
 moon, and abided in the green forest, and clothed them- 
 selves in gold and jewels, and lived from year to year, as 
 they had lived in the golden fields and silver mountains. 
 And thus they passed ten thousand years, and there was 
 no trouble known among the true Galore. And when ten 
 thousand years were passed and gone, a new sect sprang 
 up among the true Galore ; but these, indeed, must have 
 been the sons of devils, for they began to live according to 
 new and strange customs, wholly different from those of
 
 138 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 the true Galore the sons and favorites of the Gods of 
 Splendor ; for they builded houses and hewed stones, and 
 burned earth, and cut down trees, the happy everlasting 
 homes of us, the true Galore ; but these, indeed, must have 
 been the sons of devils for they burdened the green and 
 beautiful earth with their abominations. And they in- 
 creased, and waxed proud and fierce, and they drove the true 
 Galore out of their much-loved forests, and hunted them 
 like wild foxes, and killed them, and robbed them of thWr 
 gold, and despoiled them of their daughters, and made 
 them slaves and beasts of burden. And the true Galore 
 wept, and were in great sorrow, and knew not what to do." 
 Then the gypsies hung down their heads, and cried, "Ah, 
 me ! ah, me 1" 
 
 " Then the King of the true Galore said, ' Oh, golden 
 Eagle, where art thou ? Come again unto the true Galore, 
 and counsel them what they shall do.' And the Eagle came, 
 and he said, ' What seek ye ?' And they said, l We are 
 wanderers, and were despoiled by these, the sons of devils ; 
 and we know not what to do.' And the Eagle said, ' Why 
 will ye not live with them, and abide in houses, even as they 
 abide ?' And the true Galore said, ' We will not hide our 
 heads in shame, beneath the dark screen that veils us from 
 the Sun, and Moon, and Stars ; for the Sun and Moon were 
 once our homes, and we love to look upon them in the day, 
 and on the Stars by night. Peradventure, if we dwell in 
 covered places with the sons of devils, and keep not these 
 glorious spheres ever before us, we shall forget and be for- 
 gotten by them, and shall no more return to our primal 
 homes. Wherefore we have vowed a vow never to put a 
 screen of wood, or stone, or tile between ourselves and these 
 glorious organizations. And this vow we will never 
 break no, not though earth and heaven should clash to- 
 gether. But the sons of devils persecute and drive us out, 
 and rob us of our woods and forests. Therefore is our cry
 
 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 139 
 
 made to thee.' Then the Eagle said, * Follow me.' And he 
 led theia into a new and fruitful land, where there were 
 other forests, and fair hills, and fertile rivers ; and the true 
 Galore were again happy." Then the gypsies clapped their 
 hands again, saying, " Good ! good !" 
 
 " And the true Galore, the Sons of the Gods, dwelled in 
 this new land for ten thousand years ; and though it equalled 
 not their recent country, still it was a fair dominion. And 
 they passed their days in fields and forests, and their only 
 roof-tree was the leafy bower of the living oak and elm and 
 walnut, and the everlasting ceiling of the banyan, through 
 whose blooming branches the sun glittered ; and the 
 emerald bright stars of heaven shone over them in the soft 
 night ; and their sons and daughters increased wonderfully, 
 and their days were happiness and peace. And it came to 
 pass that the sons of devils extended their dominion unto 
 this fair land also, and they said unto the true Galore, 
 * Live ye in houses and under roof-trees even as we do, or 
 ye shall not abide with us, neither shall ye any longer pol- 
 lute this land.' But the true Galore said, ' We are the Sons 
 of the Gods ; we love to look upon the Sun and Stars ; we 
 love to feel them shining, smiling, watching over us, and 
 we will not bar them out with lattice of stone.' And the 
 sons of devils said, ' Depart ye, therefore ; this land is no 
 more a land for ye.' And they drove out the true Galore 
 with fire and sword ; and they devastated their peaceful 
 bands, and slew them wheresoever they found any, and 
 bore away their wives and daughters into slavery, and 
 feasted in their desolated homes." 
 
 The gypsies hung down their heads, saying, " May their 
 mothers be accursed forever ; may their graves be defiled : 
 may the faces of their fathers blacken in hell 1" 
 
 " And the true Galore called again unto the Eagle ; and the 
 Eagle came at their call, and he said, ' What want ye now, 
 O Sons of the Gods ?' And the true Galore answering said,
 
 140 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU* 
 
 * Behold we are again exiles ; the sons of devils have again 
 despoiled us nor is there any longer a resting-place on 
 this earth for the true Galore. Wherefore have we called 
 aloud unto thee, Golden Eagle, for thou hast rescued us 
 from our tribulation.' And the Eagle said, ' In this land 
 there is no longer a home ; but the true Calore must cross 
 the seas.' And the true Calore cried out, ' Golden Eagle, 
 command us not to cross the seas.' But the Eagle said. 
 ' It is fated this is destiny. But this ye shall receive for 
 recompense: knowledge of the past, knowledge of the 
 present, knowledge of the future. In the eyes, the face, the 
 mouth, and hands; in the form and the presence of the 
 stranger and the friend ; in the tone of the voice, in the 
 manner of the gait shall ye read him, as if all his heart were 
 laid before ye bare, and the tablet of his spirit opened wide 
 before your eyes. And this shall be the gift of the true 
 Calore, above all other dwellers of the earth ; and the sons 
 of devils shall fear ye, and be your suitors, nay, your very 
 slaves for these things, until the end of time." 
 
 And the gypsies clapped their hands, and sprang upon 
 their feet, and shouted with great joy, " Good ! good ! 
 Blessed be the Golden Eagle of Heaven!" 
 
 " Then the true Calore sailed over the seas, and the Sun 
 led them in the day, and the Moon and Stars guided them 
 in the night, and the Eagle sailed before them over the blue 
 waters ; and they came into Europe and dwelled therein ; 
 and abided there ten thousand years, until the sons of devils 
 again followed them, and took possession of their lands and 
 leafy homes, and drove them out. Then they became wan- 
 derers, and were broken up into tribes, and some went here, 
 and some went there, and they dwelled beneath tents in this 
 cold clime, but excluded not the Moon or Stars, for these 
 indeed gleamed still through their transparent roofs. And 
 they exercised their knowledge with wisdom, and the sons 
 of devils came to them, and gave them gold and silver in
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 141 
 
 exchange for mystic lore ; and were their suitors and their 
 slaves unto this end ; even as the Eagle foretold. Where- 
 fore rejoice ye, true Galore, and be not dispirited ; for the 
 promise of the Eagle hath now been fulfilled for thousands, 
 and yet many thousands of years ; and with us the divine 
 gift shall ever abide ; so that in the eyes and the face, and 
 the mouth and hands of the stranger, and in his voice, and 
 in his walk ye shall read his present, past, and future unto 
 the end of time." 
 
 Then all the gypsies rose up again, and some clapped 
 their hands, and others clashed silver cymbals, and they 
 cried out, " Good ! good ! all this is good." 
 
 Then the old man resumed 
 
 " All this have I expounded, because one is now amongst 
 us who hath brought a mystic message from the Eagle ; and 
 behold the Signet of the Eagle is on his watch and seals ; 
 and the Eagle hath sent him unto the true Galore the Sons 
 and favorites of the Gods. And the Sent of the Eagle 
 hath delivered this message unto the true Galore : ' The 
 heir of the Stars, the foster-child of the Queen- Serpent, the 
 beloved of the dark Goddess of the Woods, seeks a hospitable 
 tent and soft pillow.' These words he hath spoken, but 
 these words are not the words which the Eagle himself hath 
 written on the watch though this lad in ignorance or for- 
 getfulness of his true message hath said it. But the words 
 upon the watch are sacred words and are a talisman from 
 our most holy books. These I have deciphered, and thus 
 do they proclaim 
 
 'Who know, 1 !, and who shall declare 
 Whence and why creation took placet 
 He who Is In the highest heaven of light 
 Knows this no other.' 
 
 Blessed is he who beareth these words among us, and glad 
 shall be his welcome among the true Galore ; for he hath 
 come no doubt on business of Egypt, though as yet we know
 
 142 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 it not. Wherefore it is for this we have paid him honor 
 for no other than one truly the favorite of the Gods could 
 he be who beareth these words. And we have given unto 
 him a new name Zala-Mayna, or the Eagle-sent. 
 
 " But thou, Zala-Mayna, shalt henceforth be welcome 
 among our people; and whithersoever thou goest, there 
 shall be a tent open to receive thee. I see in thine eyes and 
 nrow many tokens of the future. Thou shalt wander among 
 many lands and achieve many adventures ; thou shalt seek 
 repose, and shalt not find it ever. Thy life will be a dim 
 perplexity, but thou shalt discover truth and abjure error. 
 Thou shalt be hated and loved of many ; thou shalt smite 
 and slay thine adversary, and be the sport of fierce whirl- 
 winds ; but the Eternal shall still shine before thy spirit ; 
 and thou shalt not mingle with the common herd ; nor shall 
 the sons of devils have power over thee ; though many and 
 great will be their arts of fascination. A great grief, and a 
 dark sorrow shall steal over thee, and shall be the eclipse of 
 thy life's sun ; it shall cling to thee, and fasten itself round 
 about thee ; it shall abide by thee unto death ; it shall be the 
 evil curse bestowed upon thee by those who gave thee birth ; 
 but thou shalt not quail or perish beneath it. Happier shalt 
 thou be in the desert, or on the mountain, alone with Him 
 unto whom thy spirit rises, than if thou didst tread the halls 
 of kings, and didst behold a thousand parasites in thy train. 
 But thine ending shall be quick and sudden yet shall thy 
 name not perish, nor thy wrongs be unavenged." 
 
 Thus terminated this strange scene, enacted in the soli- 
 tary heart of those, silent Downs, when all the dwellers of 
 the hamlet were buried in sleep or dream ; unconscious of 
 the drama that was being played within so short a distance. 
 The lights were now extinguished; there was bustle and 
 hurry; the dogs were called together; the horses were 
 gathered in ; the wagons were harnessed ; the visitors 
 departed. The stars alone saw us and them the silent,
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 143 
 
 holy stars of heaven to which I lifted up my soul, and felt 
 as if they were my kindred. So real, so profound, so sacred 
 seemed the conviction that I was indeed Eagle-sent, upon 
 the wild minds of these people, that I was in my own heart 
 heartily ashamed of what I now felt for the first time was 
 a species of imposture; an abuse of hospitality, an unhal- 
 lowed intrusion upon the privacy of an isolated race. But 
 what was I to do ? Was I to confess all, and be driven with 
 curses from out their circle ? Nay, was I quite sure that 
 with these passionate Children of the Sun, my life itself 
 would be safe one moment after I had avowed the cheat ? 
 Self-preservation imperatively required that I should not 
 follow this course. But again other thoughts succeeded, 
 and I began perhaps to deceive myself, as most of us poor 
 erring creatures are but too much inclined to do. Was it 
 then quite certain that I was an impostor ? Was it beyond 
 all dispute clear that I was not divinely led among these 
 people conducted by some mysterious and superior in- 
 fluence ? Was the possession of this watch, which seemed 
 the talisman of my fate, a mere accident such as might 
 have happened to any one else ? Was my exile from my 
 father's home, my mother's hatred, my school-boy suffering, 
 my flight so auspiciously untracked to the present time, all 
 mere accident ; or were they not all rather links of a chain 
 woven by destiny itself to lead me into that future life of 
 change by land and sea, which this adventure seemed to 
 offer ? How could I tell ? At all events, this was not the 
 time, nor the most favorable opportunity for inquiring too 
 nicely into the matter. I contented myself therefore with 
 the present, secure at least in a home, and safety and pro- 
 tection among these strange dwellers of the Downs. I was 
 given over to the especial care of one whom they called Man- 
 asam, and in his tent I was to abide thenceforth, until I was 
 thoroughly indoctrinated in all the lore of the tribe. He 
 was a young man, eminently handsome, and might have
 
 144 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 served for a model of Apollo. His eyes were bright as 
 running streams, that dance and glitter in the sun ; his 
 tongue was sweet and musical. Well have the ancients 
 called the voice the image of the soul, and well did the sage 
 of old say to the silent man, " Speak, that I may know 
 thee !" Never have I been deceived in this infallible test of 
 man and woman ; nor was I deceived in that of Manasam. 
 A strange affinity seemed to spring up between us ; he led 
 me to his tent, and showed me a separate bed. I undressed 
 myself, and with a parting glance at the golden lights of 
 heaven, all resplendent in the violet arch above me, threw 
 myself upon my heathery couch, and soon was wrapped in 
 sleep. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 I WAS now comparatively happy. Existence under can- 
 vas was novel; it was a delightful contrast to that from 
 which I had so recently escaped. Like all boys, I was an 
 intense lover of the open air. Solitary confinement at a 
 desk or lesson had become odious to me. I had been 
 flogged so hard under Casey and Porter, and fagged so 
 hard at Westminster torture house, that the transition to 
 indolence in the open country was like emerging out of 
 purgatory into paradise. I had made a certain progress 
 under these classic savages. If I was flogged, and kicked, 
 and trampled on, I had, at all events, the pleasure of not 
 having suffered for nothing. I was master of Latin and 
 French ; I knew Greek pretty well ; I had a sort of smat 
 tering of Italian. I had a general knowledge of history 
 and literature; not deep, but sufficient for all ordinary 
 purposes. I had, besides, what is better than all, a love 
 of books ; and though I panted for a life of adventure, I
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 145 
 
 was not insensible to the exquisite enjoyment which flows 
 from the acquisition of new truths, new information, new 
 acquirements in the arts or sciences. May I confess that 
 I had even scribbled poetry ? But that is one of my accom- 
 plishments of which I do not intend to present my reader 
 with a single specimen in this work. I believe I am the 
 only rhymer that ever lived who had the modesty or de- 
 cency to practice so much self-denial. 
 
 Oh ! how I revelled in this new scene. I was drunken 
 with delight. There were no bounds or limits to my joy. 
 I sent my soul loose upon the free winds of heaven, 
 that swept across the Downs redolent of the sea, the 
 violet and wild thyme ; the dewy breath of fragrant fields, 
 the balm of an ethereal unknown beauty. I jumped, I 
 skipped about, I was never tired of leaping over hedge 
 or fence. I sang, I shouted aloud ; I no longer envied the 
 birds, for my heart was as joyous as the happiest songster 
 of them all. The earliest beam of sunshine found me at 
 my tent door, ready dressed ; almost before a dog awoke I 
 was out upon the hills, crossing over the valleys, vaulting 
 over brush, and briar, and gorse, giving loose to the gush- 
 ing ecstacy of my enfranchised spirit. A cold-blooded 
 spectator, who had seen me, must have thought me mad, 
 and in truth I was mad with the new feeling of freedom. 
 I ran down the hares which I saw gliding through the 
 thick fern and underwood. I rushed into the open sea, 
 and breasted the green billows that dashed in living emerald 
 upon the sounding beach, and seemed to speak the words 
 of one Eternal. I stood and filled my lungs with the sweet 
 breezes; I opened my hand and sought to grasp it, and 
 make it all mine own. The glorious sunshine filled me 
 with a divine feeling. I was like an immortal God, im- 
 bued with the nectar and ambrosia of the heavens. Wo 
 did not alwa3 r s confine ourselves to one place, but wandered 
 away far and far, making this lonely silent slade our head*
 
 146 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 quarters, to which we generally returned after scouring all 
 the seacoast country ; sleeping in rich corn-fields, or on the 
 warm beach when the summer sun gleamed over us with 
 Italian glow and brilliancy; now on the Bexhill down, and 
 Hastings, and chivalric Battle ; now pursuing our course 
 westward, and wandering like Bedoweens over the South 
 Downs, to Arundel and Chichester, and Salisbury Plain, 
 where amid our fathers' temples, Stonehenge and Ames- 
 bury, we camped, and heard traditionary tales of the en- 
 chanted past ere yet a Druid dwelt in Britain, ere yet a 
 Hebrew emerged from Oude. And mark how grandly still 
 do they survive these Boodhist fanes of vast gigantic 
 architecture. They seem and are the works of a colossal 
 race, before whom our puny modern men are but as elves. 
 For what are all the palaces and crumbling churches of the 
 Pagan ; what are the marble fragments of Greece, or Rome, 
 or Gaul, when compai'ed with the stupendous reliques of our 
 great forefathers ? They are but children's to} r s they are 
 but dolls' houses utterly mean and miserable. The Par- 
 thenon, the Pantheon, even the great Colosseum itself oh, 
 name them not ; they are but poor, contemptible, and pigmy 
 dust holes, if contrasted with these sublime memorials. 
 These defy time itself; they are more ancient than the 
 Pyramids, and will outlive them. They give a grander 
 notion of the men who reared them by arts unknown to 
 Euclid or Newton than all the epic strains of Hellas or 
 Hesperia. 
 
 My companion, guide, or tutor, whichever he might be 
 called, sympathized with my new-born rapture, and gave 
 me golden glimpses of the Past. He repressed me not in 
 the least degree ; but himself, when he was not occupied in 
 other pursuits, shared with me in all my sports, with the 
 wild and savage freedom of a boy. While others poured 
 their ancient lore into my heart, he taught me a variety of 
 arts to snare the rabbit or pheasant ; to steal upon the
 
 BDWABD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 147 
 
 partridge in her nest; to surprise the nimble hare; and 
 catch the silver tenants of the streams. Under his instruc- 
 tion I became a first-rate marksman with the arrow, the 
 pistol, or the sling ; I could hit a cherry with a stone from 
 the last at a distance of a hundred yards. I had before 
 some skill in swimming ; but he instructed me in a variety of 
 tricks, so that I could manage myself almost as skilfully as 
 a fish in the water ; nor did any feat seem too difficult for 
 me to accomplish. He made me also a master of fence ; 
 he showed me how to wrestle and box ; in a word I became 
 an adept in all athletic sports. Two years thus pleasantly 
 passed, and I was now seventeen. I was well-grown, tall, 
 active, bold, quick, and daring. I feared no man; I 
 blenched at no danger ; and I had already distinguished 
 myself by a variety of encounters with the myrmidons of 
 the law, in which we usually came off victorious. I had 
 become likewise a curious and keen observer of nature, and 
 of the habits of the birds, the beasts, even the insects of 
 the fields. I saw that they also were like human beings, 
 with passions, feelings, emotions, vices, and virtues. I 
 saw the strong oppress the weak ; I saw the powerful de- 
 stroy the feeble. Alas I when I went into the great world, 
 I beheld the same ; and could find no difference between 
 the policy of the scorpions and the rats, and that of men 
 and women ; except that the latter were more refined and 
 cruel in their love of power, or their lust of evil. I re- 
 member an incident which happened about this period, and 
 which gave me a lesson not unuseful to me afterwards in 
 my varied career. 
 
 Two swallows began to build a nest under a projecting 
 stone of one of the old gable ends of the ruin that stood 
 adjacent to our encampment. Every day the work ad- 
 vanced. At length it was complete; all that feathers, 
 wool, and fine grass could do to make the tenement com- 
 fortable and compact had been supplied. While this labor
 
 148 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 was proceeding, two sparrows, perched on a corn-rick close 
 by, watched the swallows with eager, anxious e3'es. When 
 all was finished, the swallows disappeared into a garden 
 some way off, and the sparrows quietly took possession of 
 the nest. Conscious, however, of their guilt, they never 
 dared to quit it together ; but when one was absent gather- 
 ing food, the other kept watch within, and, with beak pro- 
 truded like a soldier's pike, seemed ready to do battle with 
 all the world in defence of its ill-gotten citadel. The Duke 
 of Austria could not be more alert in guarding one of his 
 felonious acquisitions. Our late King William did not 
 more vigilantly secure the crown which " he received, but 
 did not steal." 
 
 At length the swallows re-appeared. They came as they 
 supposed to a warm cottage ready prepared for their ex 
 pected brood. But great was their dismay at finding the 
 felons in possession. The male bird flew at the nest and 
 attempted to expel the robber; but the stronger-beaked 
 knave repelled him easily, and he retreated to his bride, 
 bleeding and confused. A hasty and anxious discussion 
 took place between them; they flew off, and all seemed 
 tranquil. 
 
 And now a quick, sharp twitter from the triumphant 
 sparrow recalled his mate ; a consultation took place ; 
 sudden measures and precautions seemed requisite. They 
 both flew off for a short period, and returned, laden with 
 food. The garrison having been thus supplied, they both 
 put themselves on their defence, and with javelins extended, 
 made rather a formidable appearance. Their two sharp 
 pikes stretched out beyond the nest seemed to oppose an 
 impregnable barrier. I trembled for the luckless swallows 
 who had thus fallen victims to these king-like spoliators. 
 But soon the scene was altered. A shrill cry was heard in 
 the air : I looked up and saw about thirty or forty swal- 
 lows flying rapidly to the spot. I had no difficulty in
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 149 
 
 recognizing as their leaders the two outraged exiles, who 
 like the sons of TEneas conducted this avenging army to 
 this second Troy. They planted themselves on the corn- 
 rick and surveyed the enemy. There was a coolness and 
 intrepidity about their appearance that gave me great hope 
 that poetical justice was about to be done, and that the 
 ravishers must share the fate of their prototype, Paris. 
 Nor was I deceived. The sparrows, indeed, remained 
 watchful; their eyes were bold and fierce, as became a 
 besieged party. They did not, of course, venture on a 
 sally ; but they seemed determined to die in their strong- 
 hold. And their determination was fulfilled, but in a man- 
 ner on which they had scarcely reckoned. Suddenly about 
 a dozen swallows, each laden with a pellet of mud, flew 
 against the nest and discharged it with unerring aim. 
 They then retreated, and made way for a fresh party, who 
 renewed the attack; these in turn gave place to a third, 
 who likewise fired their shot. The first battalion now re- 
 turned with a fresh supply of mud, which they pierced into 
 the very eyes of the besieged, blinding and confusing them ; 
 and the attack thus continued until the luckless sparrows 
 were completely embedded in the soft compact, and stifled 
 to death. All their struggles to escape with wing and beak 
 were ineffectual. A reserve corps of swallows kept watch 
 just over the nest, and while the others were absent, effect- 
 ually plastered in the mud over the sallyport, so that flight 
 was impossible, and the ravishers were bricked up alive. 
 And now, how great and glorious was their triumph ! As 
 flocks of winged cranes, or long-necked swans in Asian 
 meadows, by the fair flowing streams of Cayster, fly here 
 and there, exulting in their wings, and settling down with 
 noise and glee triumphant, so raised their paeans, the vic- 
 torious band of swallows; as mighty eagles but let me 
 drop the Homeric strain, and simply say that, in a few 
 short hours, by the united labors of all, a new nest was 
 10
 
 150 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 constructed just over that which had been blocked up, and 
 the reinstated birds were next day in quiet and contented 
 possession. 
 
 Among the dwellers of our tents was an aged Indian, 
 who, I think, must have been at least a hundred years old ; 
 yet he was not bent, nor bald, nor white haired. His eye 
 retained its fire; his step was firm, but slow; his hand 
 shook not, nor did his head wag. He went by the name of 
 Akiba. He had travelled over nearly all the earth ; he had 
 sojourned among the Boodhist talapoins, and the Brahmin 
 priests ; he had visited the sacred temples of the Lama ; 
 and had penetrated the enigmas of the holy city of Benares 
 and the more ancient fanes of Samarkand. He had been 
 initiated into the profound philosophy of the sages of 
 Mecca, and the hidden rites of the sect of Lao-Tseu. He 
 had searched the mystic treasures of the Vatican all as 
 yet in manuscript, and carefully hidden away from profane 
 eyes ; unrevealed to the world, and never to be revealed ; 
 consulted, like the Sibylline books, by the highest order of 
 the priests alone, and by them sought only on the most 
 difficult occasions and emergencies. There the wealth of 
 human wisdom and experience is hoarded up; the secret 
 engines that moved empires; the dark intrigues that to 
 mankind appeared so specious ; the hidden causes of ruins 
 and revolutions are laid bare ; and no complication of cir- 
 cumstances can arise too difficult to be solved by those 
 profound oracles of thought. This aged man became my 
 Gooroo, or spiritual teacher. He showed me the insignifi- 
 cance of that knowledge which is to be derived from what 
 we call the classical writers of Greece or Italy the Platos, 
 Ciceros, and other dotards who knew nothing; the mad, 
 fantastic and degrading nonsense of their mythology 
 originally sublime and heaven-sent, but transformed by 
 the accursed tribes of sophists and poets into a medley 
 BO trifling and contemptible that only children could bo
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 151 
 
 amused by it, while all men of sense must laugh it to 
 scorn. He demonstrated that the Greeks, whom we in 
 Europe absurdly venerate as the patriarchs of all philoso- 
 phy, were despicable dreamers, without even the merit of 
 originality in their shallow speculations ; all of which were 
 borrowed from an older and a greater people ; but so tra- 
 vestied in the copy that what was primarily so sublime 
 became, in their hands, utterly ridiculous. He enumerated 
 their subtle distinctions and puerile definitions of God, the 
 Soul, the Kosmos, and eternity ; and distinguished between 
 that exalted wisdom which consists in ideas as opposed to 
 that which is made up only of words. The Greeks were, 
 in fact, always babblers. Their taste in art was fine and 
 pure, though delicate and small ; but they were a nation of 
 coxcombs, without any real or solid grandeur. To one 
 who has really mastered Indian lore, Plato is the vainest 
 prater of the Schools. The Romans were too much im- 
 mersed in wars and politics, and the extension of their 
 sway, to devote any lengthened period to the study of 
 philosophy or of true religion. They were, like ourselves, 
 a practical, money-getting race. Those of them who did 
 think, drew from Greek fountains ; which, originally shal- 
 low, would, of course, offer nothing greatly worthy of 
 acceptance. Cicero was a pedant, who knew scarcely any 
 tiling of the subjects on which he professed to write. His 
 Nature of the Gods reads like a burlesque. Seneca was a 
 dabbler or a driveller a dreary copyist of other men ; 
 Lucretius versified the pamphlets of Epicurus. 
 
 From the East all true science came ; in the East only 
 was it to be found. Thales and Pythagoras knew this, for 
 they travelled thither and explored. The knowledge which 
 they brought back they developed among their fellows ; 
 but the Grecian intellect, like that of Gaul, was too puny 
 to comprehend its simple grandeur. It became diluted, 
 weakened and effeminated, go that^pnly a small remnant
 
 152 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 of true Orientalism remained; but it was that remnant 
 which gave vitality to their speculations. True science 
 was, indeed, hoarded among the Wise, as a secret which 
 ought not to be expounded to the common herd ; and it 
 may at least be said in defence of both Thales and his dis- 
 ciples, that they each had followers whom they initiated 
 into the higher branches of the highest knowledge. But 
 this policy defeated itself in the end. The great Monarchs 
 of Wisdom, who committed to mere memory the vast treas- 
 ures which they had acquired, the mighty conquests in the 
 realms of thought which they had gained, trusted all to a 
 most frail vehicle ; and hence it came to pass that in the 
 course of time, a great deal was forgotten, and, conse- 
 quently, lost forever. To this may be attributed the pres- 
 ent extension of Ignorance, and the vast twilight in which 
 mortals wander. Had the Wise from the beginning, instead 
 of confiding to each other, or to undecipherable tablets, 
 their vast researches and great discoveries, committed them 
 to writing, and published them to all the earth, the world 
 would be ten thousand years in advance of what it is. There 
 would be but One Religion and One System of Philosophy 
 known among mankind ; wars the dice of hell would 
 cease, and.confraternity universally prevail. But they kept 
 their knowledge to a few, and hence the present wreck of 
 all things. 
 
 Thus the old man taught me. We began at the rudi- 
 ments of philosophy; we extended our iuquiz-ies into the 
 most august speculations. He showed me how the earth 
 of man was formed in the beginning ; how it and all the 
 planets of this solar sphere were originally thrown off, like 
 bubbles from the sun. These bubbles condensing, became 
 vast globes of water ; a few living seeds germinated ; the 
 result gradually produced solid matter ; this solid substance 
 sank, and was attracted into one centre from all the vast 
 circumference of waters. Hence deposits of mud, which
 
 EDWAED W OUTLET MONTAGU. 153 
 
 grew into sand ; from sand to stone, from stone to all that 
 we behold. God sent forth Vital Essences, which we call 
 Spirits. He commanded them to animate existence, and 
 gave them power to develop themselves as they thought 
 proper. This, in the lower creatures, man calls instinct ; 
 but it is by this that man himself is formed. God says, " Go 
 forth, appear in any shape that pleases thee." The spirit 
 assumes that shape which is in harmony with its desires. 
 If the spirit be inclined to evil, it assumes an evil shape, 
 like that of a wolf, or tiger, or rat, with propensities cruel 
 and cunning. If it be inclined to good, it assumes a noble 
 development, such as the spirit of Pythagoras or Socrates 
 assumed. God did not make Plato and Thersites. He 
 was not, could not, and would not be so unjust. Each made 
 himself; exactly as an insect makes its wonder-causing 
 cells, which all the art of man could not imitate. 
 
 I asked him how it came to pass that spirits should have 
 these propensities to good or evil, if God did not make 
 them so inclined. And I argued that there could be no 
 difference in the Creator making a man to be a Plato or 
 Thersites, and making the spirit which so developed itself 
 in Plato or Thersites, to have a propensity for the good or 
 the evil which afterwards existed in thdse men. He said 
 God not make Plato or Thersites ; neither did He cause the 
 spirits which assumed these forms to have a propensity, 
 the one for a noble, the other for an ignoble development. 
 God made all spirits equal in the beginning of creation, but 
 He left them free to do as they thought fit. Hence arose a 
 difference at once between them ; for free will must ever 
 produce variety of desire, and this variety of desire will 
 develop itself in ten hundred thousand different ways. 
 Remember, we are speaking of millions and millions of 
 years that have gone by, since first our actual spirits were 
 emaned from God ; during which every spirit which is now 
 on earth for all living creatures arg only spirits veiled in
 
 154 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 flesh, or body of some sort must have plaj-ed innumerable 
 parts, and passed through uncounted stages of existence. 
 Some men now living have been archangels, and might 
 have ever continued so, but the spirit is ever changing; 
 confine it in one place, restrain its ever-growing desire for 
 novelty, and it immediately becomes unhappy. God would 
 not so restrain it ; the consequence of which was, it sought 
 some other form of being, and left its archangelic manifes- 
 tation. Thus a spirit that desires to develop itself in a 
 tree, or a rose, or a bird, three exquisite bodies, capable of 
 great enjoyment, is permitted to do so ; and this was what 
 the Greeks meant when they filled the forests with Dryads, 
 and gave to each particular tree a living nymph, whose ex- 
 istence terminated with the tree itself. If these things 
 were not animated by an immortal essence of spirit, they 
 could not survive a 3 T ear. Cut down a tree ; its life is gone, 
 its spirit is departed, it decays and rots, and is no more. 
 So it is with all things. Yet men see this, and deny a 
 spirit-life to these substances, because they say they are 
 devoid of reason, instinct, or intelligence. How know they 
 that? Who would not rather be a tree or rose than one of 
 the great herd of humankind who toil and drudge, and 
 have no thought higher than that of animal existence, and 
 the support of the gross body ? In the eyes of a Supreme 
 Being, is not the life of the tree more beautiful in all re- 
 spects ? It is innocent, pure and sacred. But what is the 
 life of such a man as I have named ? And what is his in- 
 telligence ? and who from heaven told him that the tree has 
 not great and noble aspirations ; and that when it lifts its 
 head beneath the sun and stars it does not see God, in and 
 through them, and does not feel His being in its every 
 fibre? 
 
 The reader may judge how all this entered into my soul 
 soured and saddened as it had been by the sensualisms 
 and abominations which I had seen around me !
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 155 
 
 "You assume then," said I, "that the soul pre-exists; 
 that it was an immortal essence before it animated the 
 body f 
 
 " I assume nothing," he answered, " I merely say what 
 must be the fact. I do not assume that the sun shines. I 
 see it, I feel it, I know it. In the same way I know that 
 my father and mother did not make my soul. God made 
 it. But when ? Why millions of years ago. Then He 
 made it, and it was worthy of His hands ; then it was a 
 great, a splendid, a divine thing, as all the works immedi- 
 ately proceeding from God are. Taunt not Him with creat- 
 ing such frail, miserable, and paltry things as human souls 
 now be. It is they themselves, who, sinking from their 
 primal majesty, have degenerated into their present lowli- 
 ness. But mankind will not believe this. Their wretched 
 self-love will not be satisfied with any thing but an imme- 
 diate creation from the hand of the Supreme. Thus they 
 are enabled to father on Him, the Pure and Just, all their 
 shortcomings, sins and imperfections. God made me so, 
 says the thief and drunkard ; I can't help it ; I did not 
 make myself. Miscreant! thou liest. Thou didst make 
 thyself. When God made thee, He formed thee all pure ; 
 but when abandoning Him, thou gavest thyself up to thine 
 own will, then began that change in thee, which finally 
 flowers forth in robbery and intemperance. But man, you 
 will say, is unconscious of this pre-existence. It is not 
 possible but that if he lived in other stages of being he 
 must have some memory of them. This is not a sound 
 argument. All memory is seated in the brain ; destroy the 
 brain, and though the man survives he loses all recollection 
 of the past. The greatest philosopher of the day becomes 
 insane ; his brain softens ; his memory is past and gone. 
 Tell him that he existed twenty years ago, and he will be- 
 tray no recollection of the fact. Does this prove he did 
 not exist ? You yourself, who now hear me, where were
 
 156 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 you this clay ten years ? What were your thoughts, your 
 words, your actions ? You cannot tell. Does this prove 
 you did not exist ? Yet j r our brain is the same now as 
 then, and I am assuming that your memory is as sound ns 
 that of ordinary men. If then the brain, and the brain 
 alone, be the seat of memory, how can your spirit possibly 
 recollect what happened in some prior stage, when it is 
 separated from the brain, where all traces of that existence 
 would be treasured up ? I have shown you that even with 
 your present brain you cannot recollect what took place 
 ten or fifteen years since. How then is it possible that 3 r ou 
 could remember what took place ten thousand years since, 
 unless you had the same brain now as you had then ; or 
 even if you had the same brain now as then, which of 
 course it would be impossible you could have. 
 
 " Moreover, is it beyond all cavil established that we have 
 no memory of the past ? What is imagination that power 
 of building splendid castles in the air ; of soaring into new 
 regions and spheres ; of clothing incidents with a golden 
 brilliancy that gives to them the hues of fairy land ? How 
 know you that this enchanting fancy is not a dim recollec- 
 tion of other and more lovely spheres ? You hear sweet 
 music ; you are fascinated ; the tears roll from your e3 r es ; 
 your heart melts away in heavenly feeling. How know you 
 that this also is not memory awakened by the song of 
 happier days and times ? Can the concurrence of a few 
 notes alone produce so powerful an effect as that which I 
 have described ? I once travelled with a Dutchman through 
 the Vale of Cashmere ; at the close of a long day's march, 
 we rested in a beautiful plain, rich with silver rills, and 
 flowers, and lovely trees, and sleeping as it were under a 
 distant mountain, with varied tints of azure, pink, and 
 violet. ' Good God !' said the Dutchman, ' I have seen all 
 this before. How well I recollect it ! Every foot of ground 
 is familiar to me,' and he mentioned several remarkable
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 157 
 
 beauties of the place, which had not then disclosed them- 
 selves, but which we subsequently discovered. Was not this 
 memory ? What else could it be ? This dull fool had never 
 been out of Europe before ; or left his stagnant pool of mud 
 and mammon ; had never before trodden that bewitching 
 valley. Yet he knew every feature of this identical spot as 
 well as any native." 
 
 These doctrines opened to my mind an entirely new view 
 of Providence, and the Divine Laws, and proved incontro- 
 vertibly the necessity of human responsibility for sin. It 
 is clear beyond all dispute, that if God made my soul as it 
 is at present, He, not I, it is, who should be adjudged 
 responsible for all I do. I am no free agent, for how can 
 I go against that inclination which God himself has given 
 me? But this in fact is blasphemy against His good- 
 ness. To preach that God makes men predisposed to evil 
 and damns them because they commit evil, is to make 
 him a demon, not a Divine Principle. Yet how many mil- 
 lions of people there are who honestly, but unthinkingly, 
 hold this atheistical notion ; and never once meditate on the 
 awful consequence to which it leads. If, therefore, God did 
 not make me as I am, it follows that I made myself so ; and 
 as a natural consequence I must pay the penalty of my own 
 misdoings. This at once vindicates the ways of God to 
 man. Milton sought, or fancied that he sought, to do this ; 
 but his notions of God were altogether mean, despicable, 
 and grovelling ; and the Almighty Ruler of the Heavens 
 appears in his pages as a sort of creature with all the errors 
 of a man, and none of the sublime majesty of a God. The 
 devil is his true hero ; and while he represents him as some- 
 thing above spirit, he makes God infinitely below it. 
 
 Then the old man taught me the true age of the earth, or 
 rather, of man's existence on the earth ; which he said had 
 been considerably lessened from its real period, for the 
 purpose of propping up certain systems. He detailed the
 
 158 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 wonderful discoveries which the old astronomers had made, 
 and which furnished conclusive proof that science at an 
 early period had made gigantic progress, and that the true 
 solar system, which we vain puppets suppose to have 
 been a recent discovery, was perfectly well known to the 
 most ancient men. In proof of this he mentioned the Cycle 
 of the Naros, which was known thousands of years before 
 what are called the postdiluvian ages. This cycle consists 
 of 31 periods of 19, and one of 11 years, and is the most 
 perfect of the astronomical cycles. It consists of 600 years 
 of 7,200 solar months, or 219,146^ days; and this same 
 number of 219,146^ gives years consisting each of 365 days, 
 5 hours, 51 minutes and 36 seconds, which differs less than 
 3 minutes from what its length is observed to be at this day. 
 Supposing this cycle were correct to a second, if on the 1st 
 of January at noon, a new moon took place, it would take 
 place again in exactly 600 years, at the same moment of the 
 day, and under all the circumstances. This is the most 
 perfect cycle ever known ; and how many hundreds of 
 years must it not have taken before the first astronomers 
 could have observed and recorded the heavenly movements 
 so as to be able to note the time that made it up ! 
 
 Next he showed me the reasonableness of the Indian 
 Metempsychosis, which is erroneously called the trans- 
 migration of souls. Souls do not change their bodies on 
 this earth. If a beggar dies to-morrow he is not found next 
 day animating a dog. This is the vulgar notion, which 
 those who get their bread by error desire to propagate. 
 But the true Metempsychosis is this : A man has passed 
 his whole life like Timur or Aureng-Zebe, in shedding blood ; 
 in cruel savage thoughts ; in devising cunning schemes and 
 plots. In what condition does his soul present itself before 
 God when he dies ? It bears upon it all the marks of those 
 hideous vices. As cruelty and tyrannic power give a man's 
 appearance, his eyes, mouth, and look, all the dread tokens
 
 EDWARD WOBTLET MONTAQU. 159 
 
 of his savage nature, so also do they imprint themselves 
 upon his soul ; so that God when He beholds it immediately 
 knows its nature. He casts it forth from Him ; for it can- 
 not enter into the spheres of Purity. It wanders away in 
 darkness ; light is hateful to its black and gloomy nature. 
 Here it gradually suffers until its period is expired ; when 
 it is again permitted to assume a corporeal development in 
 accordance with its nature and propensities. This would 
 be probably that of a hyena, or a wild cat, or a tiger, if its 
 intellect was large ; of a weasel or a rat if its intellect was 
 small and weak. And this truth is shadowed forth in the 
 Hebrew Scriptures by the Storj- of Nebuchadnezzar, who 
 worshipped the Bull Idol, and was changed into a wild 
 beast of the same order. 
 
 Thus did we discourse thus did he teach me. We 
 traced man from his first appearance on the earth, down 
 gradually to his present state ; we saw the various forms 
 of existence through which successive races passed ; hunt- 
 ing, nomadic, warlike, agricultural, commercial. The scien- 
 tific next remains. What it will develop mankind into 
 is to be seen but it is as yet a great way distant. We 
 traced the various forms of religion, and identified those 
 general features of a sublime original which all creeds pos- 
 sess in common. The various systems of philosophy we 
 next examined, and found that nearly all were hollow and 
 fantastical. The old man felt for me a paternal instinct. 
 I suppose he was proud of the progress I made ; he was 
 evidently gratified with the devotion which I displayed 
 towards him, and the unmistakable zeal with which I exe- 
 cuted his slightest wish. Those were pleasant days ! How 
 different from the gin-horse curriculum of the schools! 
 Nature was our school-room ; the stars our monitors. We 
 wandered by the mighty sea ; and in the majesty of the 
 splendor around, before, and over us, more fully learned to 
 appreciate the mystery that is in all things.
 
 160 EDWAED WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Nature ! thou Supreme Heaven ! How I thank thee 
 that my soul had nerve enough to fly from man and mam- 
 mon ! What might I not have been had I remained forever 
 the serf of civilization, and all its accursed crimes ! I 
 might have been like Walpole, Pelham, or Bute, Ministers 
 of England, surrounded by the wickedest of the human 
 race ; obliged by force of circumstances to lie and fawn and 
 flatter ; to cringe to him who had six votes ; to be the 
 minion of the man who commanded twelve. I might have 
 been forced to lie to every fool I met ; to bow down to the 
 most detestable of creatures, because they could command 
 the ear of the many; to the most loathsome of women, 
 because they could dispose of the passions of the King. 
 I might have been tempted to make the most false and 
 evil hypocrite a bishop, because he had votes and influence ; 
 and to have placed upon the bench, as administrators of 
 law, men whose whole lives were meanness, falsehood, vil- 
 lany, and chicanery. And all these crimes for what ? A 
 few thousands of money ; a few years of patronage to fel- 
 lows whom I loathed ; a few years of worship by creatures 
 whom I scorned ; a brief period of homage as false as the 
 empty soap-bubble. Many and many a day have I wanted 
 bread, and many a night have I asked myself where I 
 should lie down, but never once have I regretted that I 
 was not heir to my father's millions, or envied the lord 
 and master of Houghton. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ONE summer evening, after one of our disquisitions on 
 these subjects, Manasam suggested to me that I should ask 
 Akiba to narrate his history for us. The old man had a
 
 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 161 
 
 parental alas ! what was I going to say ? I mean a truly 
 patriarchal feeling for me, and he indulged me as a spoiled 
 child. Indeed, I do not remember that he ever refused me 
 a reasonable request. I was myself not a little inquisitive 
 about what must at all events have been a varied experi- 
 ence. I asked him to oblige me ; the old man paused for 
 a few moments, and entering his tent, returned with a small 
 parcel ; he then resumed his seat beneath a branching tree, 
 and began as follows : 
 
 " You ask me for a narrative of my life, and you shall 
 have it briefly, for I am old, and my lamp is nearly 
 quenched ; the river of my days is exhausted. My earliest 
 recollections are of tents and plains. I was born in the 
 desert ; I am a child of the mountain and the forest ; the 
 rapid stream and the tempest-footed steed were my first 
 companions. My father was a robber so, indeed, were 
 all our tribe; Belochees whose boy dreams are tinged 
 with blood and pillage, and terrible adventure. Strange 
 that I, who drew my primal breath far away in the hills of 
 the Orient, under a hot sun and fiery heaven, and in the 
 parched and beam-reflecting desert, should sink into the 
 earth in this cold English land, and beneath its varying 
 skies of cloud, mist and azure ; with no kindred hand to 
 smooth my pillow, or draw the curtains of my tent when 
 the wind blows cold and raw ; and in its melancholy wail I 
 seem to hear the spirits of my sires calling to their last 
 descendant. 
 
 " We led a wild life, and many a village owned our sway. 
 Our swords were sceptres ; where they waved we were as 
 kings. The flash of our turbans was like the coming of light- 
 ning; their glittering was death. Often were we hunted 
 over the plains by omrahs fierce and bloody as ourselves 
 the legalized banditti of the land ; but our fleet Khorassan 
 steeds bore us safely from their fangs, and we avenged our- 
 selves in smoking huts and rifled harems. Had we been
 
 162 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 ten thousand strong we might have founded a dynasty, and 
 been kings by all the laws that regulate and delude man- 
 kind, but we were never more than a few hundreds ; and 
 so we were marauders and public enemies, against whom 
 every man's dagger was uplifted, and those lies called laws 
 were put in force. 
 
 " We were only conquerors on a small scale, and we had 
 not killed or robbed enough to take our place in histories^ 
 though we were celebrated by many a bard. 
 
 " It was a wild life, and yet a glorious, happy one ! We 
 were here to-day, and sixty miles away to-morrow. We 
 spared the very poor, but had no mercy on the rich, who 
 lorded it over slaves ; and though they usually sprang from 
 nothing, were far more proud and cruel than the hereditary 
 nobles of the kingdom. In one night we often captured as 
 many as sixty camels, and drove them over the plain in 
 one long file. Oh ! how we scorned the mean-eyed dwellers 
 in cities, whose sneaking walk and fawning looks, and winc- 
 ing tones of sham humility were so widely different from 
 ours ; for even the least of us when fettered, wore the inde- 
 pendent air of a prince ; and even in his dungeon flashed 
 around the splendid fire of freedom. With our swords, 
 shields and matchlocks, we thought ourselves a match for 
 any equal number of men in the world ; and who shall say 
 that we were not so ? Our chief was a tall, fierce fellow, 
 with black matted hair, like so many clustering vipers be- 
 neath a ponderous turban ; his eyes were strong and flaming 
 as an eagle's ; his breath was fiery, like a lion's breath. I 
 would you could have seen him. He was of that mighty 
 race of men who raised Carnac, Stonehenge, and the mys- 
 terious wonders of Elora ; who built the Babylonian Tower, 
 and reared the sunken splendors of Maha Bali Puram. 
 These heroic sons of gods, or demi-gods, are departed, and 
 in their place subsists a weak, degenerate tribe of pale-eyed, 
 craven-hearted drudges, who love to compass gold by
 
 EDWARD WOETLKY MONTAGU. 163 
 
 trickery and deceit, rather than by the daring of the strong 
 right hand. And they win it, but are not worthy of the 
 prize. My soul spits at them ; my heart loathes their very 
 name. I hate to think of them so I have betaken myself 
 away to die amid the green hills and silent dales, where I 
 feel freedom, and see not knaves or cowards. This was 
 my sword," and here the old man produced a Belochee 
 blade of the most exquisite temper. It was folded rev- 
 erently in silk and velvet, and when he bared it to the 
 setting sun, he kissed its glittering point as if it were some 
 cherished relic of a fakir or saint, or holy Yogee of the 
 fanes. On the upper part, and just beneath the hilt, was 
 graven a sacred motto " God gave the sword to man to 
 save his spirit from dishonor." And as he deciphered for 
 me this warrior text, his eyes shone with some of their 
 ancient lightning ; and I could see that his heart beat with 
 a stronger pulse than usual. He handed the sword to 
 myself first, and afterwards to Manasam ; and evidently 
 enjoyed the feeling of respect which we appeared to evince as 
 we touched this cherished memorial of past achievements. 
 
 "With that sword," said he, "I have slain fifty men. I 
 speak not figuratively, but an actual fact. When the 
 fiftieth head had rolled upon the dust, then, and not till 
 then, did I relinquish the loved companion of my } r outh." 
 
 And kissing it again, he enveloped it within its gorgeous 
 covering, and laid it by his side. 
 
 " Our robber chief was wedded well, I suppose I must 
 say wedded to a daughter of Sindhia. Where he got her, 
 no one knew. Whether she had been torn from a forest 
 cot, or from a royal harem, was a secret. Enough for us 
 was it that she was our Chieftain's wife, and that her word, 
 or even nod, was law absolute. Dark she was as starry 
 night ; dark, yet gloriously bright and lovely. When you 
 looked into her black eyes, rolling spheres of flame beneath 
 her white and queen-like brow ; when you watched her long
 
 164 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 raven hair, floating loosely over her neck of pure snow, as 
 I have seen the sable clouds flying in wild disorder over 
 the crystal heaven, or viewed her rose-like mouth, or, 
 sweeter still, listened to the deep music of her voice, you 
 knew that a woman of superior order was before you, and 
 that she was made for the greatest hero in the world. She 
 was a splendid savage wild as a tigress, and equally un- 
 tamable. You loved, yet dreaded to look upon her. Her 
 motions were as quick as lightning flashes. She was never 
 still ; you could as easily chain the winds of heaven, of 
 the green and ever-gliding ocean. Rest was wholly foreign 
 to her nature. She was one of those spirits of flame that 
 if they are still, die and are forgotten. Her lord was an 
 uncultivated brute strong as an elephant, bloody as a 
 hyena, subtle as a lion, but wholly rude and ignorant. He 
 was a mere animal. As an animal, he was perfect ; for no 
 one member of the brute creation could be compared with 
 him ; but as a man, he was inferior to many of our tribe. 
 I have seen at Athens and Rome statues of demi-gods or 
 heroes, Hercules, Theseus, and Moses. Well, such in 
 outline was Beloli. He had their mighty limbs and muscles 
 of steel ; but he had no informing soul within to give re- 
 finement or perfection to this gorgeous mass of bone and 
 flesh, and symmetry. What sympathy could there be be- 
 tween him and Hamida? There was none. It was the 
 living wedded to the dead. It was the star Yenusi bound 
 to the dark and gloomy Saturn. It was a spirit of light, 
 chained to one of the dark spirits of clay, chafing the chain, 
 restless and ever more unhappy. 
 
 " Upon a time it happened that she fell ill. There was 
 no leech among our tribe. Beloli called two or three 
 enchanters to his aid, but their nostrums were of no avail ; 
 Hamida was evidently dying. Beloli's rage knew no 
 bounds. The baffled magi were scourged out of the tents ; 
 they were dismissed with every mark of ignominy. In vain
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAQU. 165 
 
 they denounced curses and revenge ; he heaped dirt upon 
 them, and hunted them out of our bounds with his dogs. 
 All was now confusion and despair. At this moment I 
 came forward. I had always been a seeker after knowl- 
 edge ; though a robber and the son of robbers, I had gained 
 many a hidden gem of science. I had been singularly for- 
 tunate also ; for I had once rendered a service to an old 
 crone on the hills, by saving her idiot son from a flogging 
 in our tents, and she had repaid the obligation by impart- 
 ing to me the secret virtues of many a lowly herb. I 
 pledged my life for Hamida's recovery. Beloli scanned me 
 for some time with a suspicious eye, but at length accepted 
 my offer. " Villain," he said ; " what knowest thou of the 
 healing art ? But if thou failest, thou shalt die the death." 
 I willingly consented, and he introduced me into the tent. 
 Hamida was there oh, how beautiful ! how glowingly 
 beautiful even in the flush of fever 1 With a simple decoc- 
 tion I at once produced a change ; her recovery was rapid j 
 she was well almost before it could be hoped she was con- 
 valescent. I had indeed snatched her from the jaws of 
 death. The means were not profound, but Hamida knew 
 that I had saved her life. This was all the reward I 
 sought. Beloli dismissed me with thanks. He gave me a 
 suit of armor, all gold it had been plundered from a 
 palace. But I cared not for it, and never wore it. Six 
 months passed away, and I had almost forgotten what had 
 taken place ; when, as I was lying one night, alone by the 
 river, looking at the moonbeams playing over its surface, 
 I heard a slight noise ; I started up, thinking it was a wild 
 beast that stole upon me. I pulled out an arrow, and 
 began to fit it to the string ; when suddenly a low, sweet 
 laugh was heard, and I was struck on the face by a piece 
 of jasmine. I dropped my arrow and waited; no one ap- 
 peared, and I lay down again. I knew that the lady if it 
 
 was a lady would not take all this trouble for nothing ; 
 11
 
 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and I determined that she should seek until she found me. 
 All, however, remained still ; I lingered there for an hour, 
 and the moon sank, and all was darkness, and I went home 
 to my tent, angry with n^self that I had not followed up 
 what seemed a lucky adventure. The next night, and many 
 nights after, I sought the same retreat, but no one came. 
 I cursed myself for a fool. I stamped with rage, and was 
 almost tempted to destroy myself. Thus three or four 
 weeks fled fled, did I say? no, crawled, crawled with 
 leaden feet, till I was in despair and almost mad. A thou- 
 sand wild, conflicting thoughts made chaos of my bosom, 
 and I grew weak, timid, desperate and savage by turns. I 
 no longer entered with anxiety into -the measures of my 
 companions. Many laughed at me as a poltroon, but I 
 cared not. Yet one eye watched me during all the time. 
 
 " Well, let me come to the point. What is the use of 
 spinning out an old man's legend ? We met, Hamida and 
 I how, when, or where it matters not. She it was who 
 had stolen upon me but she dared not follow it up then. 
 She retreated, half frightened at what she did. But her 
 fiery nature could not rest. Love occupied her whole being ; 
 she was wild, mad, fevered with her passion. We met 
 we loved what more is needed to be said ? Oh, the wild 
 delirium of that passionate embrace ! We were young 
 wild dreamers lovers. These phrases comprise every 
 thing they embody a whole world of romance, sentiment 
 and recklessness. But it lasted not. Those stolen inter- 
 views were sweet, but full of danger. Beloli heard of our 
 meetings ; some of his numerous spies whispered into his 
 ear. He dissembled well. No look or word betrayed his 
 knowledge. One day he called me to him. 'Akiba,' he 
 said, ' great is my faith in you. I am upon an expedition 
 to the far off hills I shall be absent for a week. Assume 
 my place of command, and in my absence let your word be 
 a law unto the brethren that remain.' He called them be*
 
 BDWABD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 167 
 
 fore him, and thus he spake, ' Brother, I depart I go with 
 fifty men upon an expedition. All ye who remain obey 
 Akiba; he is my lieutenant; obey him as myself.' And 
 they promised to do so. That evening he departed; his 
 fifty chosen companions were with him. The watch-fires 
 were lighted ; I posted sentinels, and stole into the tent of 
 Beloli. Hamida was there. The hours passed on golden 
 wings; the stars rose one after the other, and walked in 
 luminous paths across the purple heaven, and we looked 
 out into that luminous arch of fiery beauty ; and she lay 
 upon my breast; for deeply, passionately did I love Ha- 
 mida; and when the night was at its middle course, we 
 retired into the inner tent and fell asleep. I was awakened 
 by a strange noise. Methought I heard the distant tramp 
 of feet, yet it was a still and stealthy tramp. I rose to 
 look forth into the gloom. Hamida was instantly beside 
 me. There was a magnetic sympathy between us; when 
 she slept, I slept ; when either woke, slumber fled from the 
 brain of the other. She folded her arms around me and 
 said, 'Dear Akiba, what is it?' I whispered to her to be 
 still, and making a slit in the tent, we peered outwards. 
 My heart beat was still and beat again. She folded her 
 long, white, loving arms around me, saying, ' It is a dream, 
 Akiba; be not alarmed, come.' And she half pulled me 
 backwards. But I felt an inward monitor, more powerful 
 even than Hamida to my heart and spirit, and the monitor 
 said, 'Watch!' Suddenly, quicker than I can speak the 
 words, the tent was surrounded. I saw a body of armed 
 men gather about us. All was darkness, all was silence ; 
 but there was a cool resolve about their movements that 
 seemed the prelude to a dreadful deed. Then a loud voice 
 spake, ' Akiba, come forth!' It was the voice of Beloli. It 
 shot through me like an arrow of death ; not for my own 
 sake, but for the sake of Hamida. I knew not what to do, 
 but silence seemed the wisest course I could adopt. Beloli
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 waited for some moments; at length, finding that there 
 was no answer, he advanced, armed, towards the tent. His 
 men followed him. 'Stand back!' he cried, in a voice of 
 thunder. I feared him not. Why should I? He was a 
 ravisher of this fair woman. He had dragged her from 
 her home; he had forced her to be his. Her heart she 
 never gave him nay, she loathed his very presence. In 
 giving herself up to me she had broken no pledge, she had 
 committed no breach of faith; she had violated no vow. 
 Beloli had destroyed I had saved her. Towards him all 
 her feelings were those of hatred ; to me she felt gratitude, 
 and where a woman gives her grateful heart we know that 
 she gives all. Therefore did I fear him not. I knew that 
 I had done him no wrong. I blushed not in the least. I 
 trembled not before him. I advanced and pulled open the 
 tent. I had drawn my sword. ' Here I am,' I said, ' what 
 wantest thou with me, Beloli?' He started back; terrible 
 in his strength though he was, he did not hope that I should 
 confront him. 'Yillain!' he said, 'thou shalt die, and thou 
 shalt not die alone!" Then he turned to his men and 
 cried, ' Fire !' but before they could do so Hamida was at 
 my side. Her eyes flashed ; she flung herself before me ; 
 the stars gleamed over her with their splendid light ; never 
 had she looked so beautiful. Her night robe only was on 
 her, and half her magnificent form could be seen. The 
 robbers started back ; the majesty of her appearance, the 
 glorious spirit which she evinced, abashed, appalled, trans- 
 fixed them with a mighty awe. 'Fire!' she said, 'fire, oh, 
 friends ! but let every shot be aimed at me, for I alone am 
 guilt} r if guilt there be. This youth is innocent of wrong.' 
 And she again presented herself like a buckler in my front, 
 so that if they discharged their pieces, they must have 
 destroyed her. I was so utterly confused and paralyzed 
 with fear for her that I knew not what to do otherwise I 
 believe I should have rushed forward upon Beloli's sword.
 
 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 169 
 
 ' Fire !' he said again, with a ferocious cry, but they would 
 not fire. Beloli himself moved not. In a moment the tent 
 pole was removed, and we were enveloped in its folds. 
 4 Fly,' said she, ' fly to the hills, the hills, and I will follow.' 
 I easily escaped ; but when I looked she was not near me. 
 I hid myself under a hillock where a clump of bushes grew, 
 and waited for her with a beating heart ; but she came not. 
 I stole down towards the camp again. Before I had gone 
 half way, a fierce light rose up around the fallen tent ; the 
 thick black felt ignited rapidly ; a fearful blaze was seen of 
 dry and green wood, and round the burning centre were 
 the robbers and Beloli, making a horrible outcry to the 
 noise of tom-toms and sitarrs. My blood ran cold ; Ha- 
 mida had died to save me ; she had sacrificed herself for 
 me most worthless. In that moment, in that humiliating 
 thought, I died a hundred times. Yet was my heart filled 
 with admiration for this noble woman. I had still my 
 matchlock in my hand, that trusted tube, whose aim had 
 never failed. The flame, and smoke, and sparks of death 
 now rose higher and higher. No cry was heard from be- 
 neath the blazing tent. She had either perished instantly, 
 or else that haughty heart disdained to weep. Beloli 
 laughed ; he ran round the fire with fierce exultation ; his 
 companions seemed pleased that at all events they had not 
 shed the blood of their mistress. The distinction between 
 shooting and burning her to death was a nice one ; I sup- 
 pose it satisfied the casuists among them. At all events, 
 they looked on and did not interpose, while Beloli heaped 
 thicker and thicker the blazing brands. Then he raised 
 his sword and waved it over his head, but "in that instant 
 he fell dead into the very fire himself had raised, and the 
 echo of my matchlock rang among the hills." 
 
 Here the old man was silent he remained so for a con- 
 siderable interval. Suddenly he flung himself upon the 
 ground he moaned aloud; his agony was dreadful to behold.
 
 170 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 The big tears coursed each other down his cheek and beard ; 
 his bosom shook with an internal agony too great for words. 
 He moaned, he cried, he beat his breast ; he struck his head 
 against the earth. I almost feared that he was about to 
 destroy himself. Never have I seen grief more violent. It 
 was dreadful in so old a man. "O Hamida," he exclaimed, 
 " form and beautiful spirit of my first, my last, my only love, 
 look upon me from the sphere of light and beauty, where I 
 know thou art enthroned look upon me with thy sweet fond 
 eyes, and know by all the agonies I have endured and still 
 endure, that none but thou hast had my heart. Thou hast 
 gone before me for me indeed hast thou sacrificed thy life ; 
 yet was not thy love greater than mine, and could I by ten 
 thousand deaths bring thee back once more to earth and life, 
 ten thousand deaths would I endure in proof of what I feel. 
 Fair woman ! noble heart ! oh, hear me ! A wanderer have 
 I been a wild and wayward sinner ; unworthy of a love so 
 great, so high, so holy and exalted, as thine. Oh ! what am 
 I that thou shouldst die for me ? a weak, wretched worm. 
 Yet do I love thee I dare to love thee who art all splendor 
 and beauty. Pray for me, O Hamida pray for me to the 
 Supreme to thee will Alia hearken, for thou art of the 
 spirits whom He loves ; but as for me, poor miserable out- 
 cast, I dare not lift my voice to Him. O God, Father, 
 for her sake grant that we may meet again Thy heaven 
 were a void to me if I had not Hamida." 
 
 We did all we could to soothe the old man, but success 
 was impossible. He would not listen perhaps he did not 
 hear. He lay in terrible suffering, and would not be com- 
 forted. We commended him to the care of one of the women, 
 and took our leave. W T e did not see him for several days. 
 When we met, it was by chance amid the hills. The old 
 man seemed to have grown older ; the lapse of a week had 
 apparently added twenty years to his head. He did not 
 seem to notice us; he was absorbed in deep meditation.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 171 
 
 We did not obtrude upon him ; his grief was too sacred to 
 be disturbed. A month elapsed, and we again met. He 
 introduced the subject himself. We sat under the ruined 
 church. The sun was sinking, and there was a golden 
 valley of light in the west. 
 
 " Zala-Mayna," said Akiba, " look upon yonder sunset. 
 Like it are the dreams and hopes of youth. You see a 
 gorgeous valley, a castle of pure gold, with battlements of 
 silver, and a purple lake of waters. It seems the abode of 
 heavenly spirits. The green waters smile in sunny bright- 
 ness beneath ; the East is darkened as if with violet lines ; 
 but they are tinged with golden brilliancy. If any earthly 
 scene can give you an idea of celestial beauty, now you may 
 behold it. But like all terrestrial things, this is an unreal 
 spectacle. Even while you gaze upon it, the valley darkens, 
 the castle melts away into an orange colored mist, the silver 
 battlements fade into a dim twilight, and the lake of purple 
 water grows into dim cloud. So it is with all that is on 
 earth. Every thing we see is Maya ; a faint and transitory 
 illusion. The skeptical in my country say that God also is 
 Maya ; but the truly sage know that He alone is real, but 
 that all else is the Maya of the fancy. Follow and adore 
 Him, therefore, through all vicissitudes ; all else but He is 
 vapor." 
 
 We conversed until the Evening Star arose. Our themes 
 were high and holy. When we were wrapped in darkness, 
 Akiba said, 
 
 " Let me resume my story where I broke off ; yet all the 
 rest is plain prose. This was the epic of my life, and no 
 man has two epics. You must be content for the remainder 
 with the dull lees. I vowed revenge, and fulfilled my vow. 
 There was not one of those fifty bandits who thus sur- 
 rounded the tent and destroyed Hamida, that I did not 
 follow up, and, in the course of time, destroy. It took me 
 nearly six years before I had completed my purpose, but at
 
 172 EDWARD WOKTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 the end of that time I had fifty dried scalps of my com- 
 panions. No man can ever know what pains, what toils, 
 what strange disguises it required before I could accomplish 
 this glorious vengeance. But at the end of that time the 
 great object of my life had been gained. I was at peace. 
 I carried the scalps to the place where we encamped on that 
 fatal night ; and on the very spot where stood Beloli's tent, 
 and the remains of Hamicla reposed, I made a funeral pile, 
 and sacrificed them to her manes. I then fled into a distant 
 part of the country, and for a while sojourned in the woods. 
 I lived with nature, and gave a respite to my passions. But 
 after a year all the ardor of my nature again broke forth. 
 I longed for action. I panted once again to mingle in the 
 fiery struggles of life. Shah Jehan was now involved in 
 troubles ; the sceptre of Hindoostan trembled in his feeble 
 grasp. Addicted to his pleasures he was unable to reduce 
 his sons to order ; he lived only in his past glories ; luxury 
 and magnificence were all his care. But his four sons they 
 were perpetually fomenting strife and discord. The fiercest 
 hatred burned in their hearts. Dara, the oldest and noblest, 
 had been invested by his father with a share of the sovereign 
 power ; but Aureng Zebe had long marked out the gorgeous 
 crown of India for himself, and the better to assure success, 
 ke had assumed the mask of religious zeal and holiness. 
 His austerities were the themes of applause, but only a few 
 were cognizant of the ambition of his soul. He gathered 
 partizans from all sides ; he was profuse in promises ; he was 
 lavish also in rewards. Inferior in figure and manner to 
 his two elder brothers, Dara and Sooja, and in true nobility 
 of heart tp his younger brother Morad, he outshone them 
 fey an appearance of solidity and gravit}^, which gave weight 
 to all he said and did. He was plausible, false, and dis- 
 simulating; and could sow dissension among the most 
 intimate friends, without himself appearing to be aught 
 except the mutual confidant of both. When the Mogul fell
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 173 
 
 ill, and Para had half assumed the sovereignty, Soojah 
 rebelled, but was speedily overthrown. Morad, the youngest 
 son, now took the field. He wrote to Aureng Zebe, and 
 solicited his assistance. This crafty prince was delighted 
 at the proposal. He well knew that if with Morad's help he 
 could destroy the predominant power of Dara, he would 
 have no difficulty of getting rid of Morad himself, as soon 
 as he had served his purpose. He sent an answer, accusing 
 Dara of weakness, and Soojah of infidelity ; both were 
 consequently unworthy of the crown. ' As for me,' said 
 he, ' I have long since dedicated myself to the service of 
 God ; I desire only that safety and tranquillity which suit 
 the fervency of my devotion. But I will, with my poor 
 abilities, assist Morad to take possession of a sceptre which 
 the united wishes of the people of Hindoostan have already 
 placed in his hands. Morad may then think of his faithful 
 Aureng Zebe, and assign him a quiet retreat, that he may 
 pass the remainder of his life in the austerities of religion, 
 and in communion with God.' Morad was utterly deceived ; 
 he levied troops, and among his new recruits I was one. 
 We crossed the Nerbudda, and having joined the forces of 
 Aureng Zebe, tried our strength against the Maha Rajah. 
 A terrible battle ensued. We were on the right flank; 
 Aureng Zebe occupied the left. After a bloody conflict we 
 succeeded. The Maha Rajah fled, and we entered Ugein in 
 triumph. Great was the consternation now at the Court of 
 Shah Jehan. The Emperor himself resolved to take the 
 field ; a step that would have destroyed the power of Aureng 
 Zebe in one day, so greatly was Shah Jehan still adored by 
 all the soldiers ; but Darah dissuaded him and went in 
 person against the two rebel leaders. We met in the plains 
 of Guzerat. Darah himself led on the troops. Never was 
 there a more desperate fight, but the fall of Rustum in the 
 beginning of the battle destroyed the expectations of Darah. 
 With the life of his bravest general ended all further chance
 
 174 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 of victory. His troops fought like lions, but his evil star 
 prevailed. A variety of untoward accidents intervened ; 
 and at the very moment when he should have led his soldiers 
 against the wearied forces of his brothers, his elephant 
 driver retreated in a panic, and all was lost. Aureng Zebe 
 succeeded almost by a miracle. Never was a more extra- 
 ordinary combination of lucky accidents than those that 
 won for him that eventful battle. 
 
 " Of the subsequent fate and fall of Morad, why need I 
 speak ? That brave prince became a victim to the treach- 
 ery of his brother. Aureng Zebe assumed the imperial 
 crown at Delhi, and Shah Jehan became his prisoner. With 
 the fall of Morad, his soldiers were transferred to the new 
 monarch, and I now swore fealty to Aureng Zebe. But he 
 was not destined to sit beneath the imperial umbrella with- 
 out perpetrating other crimes. Soliman, the son of Dara, 
 was 3 7 et in arms. Dara himself was at the head of a large 
 army. Aureng Zebe marched forth to meet him. We ar- 
 rived on the banks of the Suttuluz, but there was no oppos- 
 ing foe. Disunion was in the councils of Dara ; his camp 
 was full of spies sent by the usurping emperor, who sowed 
 suspicion and dissension. In the night preceding our arri- 
 val he fled. We pursued him rapidly. Our scouts informed 
 us that he had taken the direction of Moultan, and thither 
 we advanced. But news was brought to Aureng Zebe 
 that Sooja now was in the field, and was marching on 
 Delhi. The emperor left the main army with some chosen 
 troops, and went to meet his brother. We, in the mean- 
 time, followed. Dara again fled. He pursued various 
 routes, but at length made a final stand at Ajmere, where 
 he fortified his camp. Aureng Zebe having, in the mean- 
 time, destroyed the forces of Sooja, now rejoined us with 
 his victorious troops. But the ramparts of his brother dis- 
 mayed him. He prepared to outwit him. When the rigor 
 of the lion availed not, he knew how to put forth the subt-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 175 
 
 lety of the fox. Two of his generals had formerty served 
 under Dara, but had fled from him as his star began to 
 wane. These Aureng Zebe now employed in one of those 
 crafty devices which never fail pretenders to religion. 
 They sent a letter to Dara, craving forgiveness, and offer- 
 ing assistance, provided he would leave the gates of his 
 camp open for their reception. Dara fell into the snare. 
 Before the day dawned all our troops were in arms ; we 
 were drawn np behind the tents, and hidden from the view 
 of Dara. The pretended fugitives issued forth in a large 
 body ; we pursued them, and fired our cannon on their rear, 
 but it was only blank cartridge. Dara was wholly deceived. 
 He came forth himself to welcome his repentant friends. 
 They bore down all before them, and took possession of 
 his camp. We followed, and the fate of India was decided 
 in half an hour. Dara now fled with his family into the 
 burning deserts. Every one deserted him ; his own soldiers 
 plundered and robbed him. The petty nobles hunted him 
 from among them. At length he was betrayed by Sooja, 
 whose life he had twice saved, but who now received an im- 
 mense bribe from Aureng Zebe, the price of his brother's 
 blood. 
 
 " We brought him to Delhi ; even we, when we saw him 
 meanly dressed, and bound in chains, pitied the eldest son 
 of Shah Jehan. But it was Fate and who can resist f 
 He was carried through the city, which he had so often 
 paraded with royal pomp, on an old decrepit elephant, with 
 tattered housings ; he was clothed in coarse linen ; his tur- 
 ban was ragged ; his hair had grown gray during his mis- 
 fortunes. The lowest among the rabble pitied when they 
 saw him ; the women burst into tears. Dara retained his dig- 
 nity, but his young son was weeping by his side. He was 
 conducted to Chizarabad, and his death decreed. In the 
 dead of the night Aureng Zebe despatched the assassins. 
 They rushed into the cell where Dara and his son were
 
 176 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 prisoned. They tore them asunder and prepared to stran- 
 gle him. But the blood of the descendant of Timour arose 
 against this infamous death. Dara stabbed one of the vil- 
 lains with his penknife. They immediately fell upon him 
 with their swords. His son, though in chains, rushed into 
 the cell, and saw them in the act of beheading his father. 
 T he assassins left him with the decapitated trunk, and car- 
 ried the bloody memorial to Aureng Zebe. That monarch 
 had been in dreary expectation all the night for their re- 
 turn. When the murderers arrived, they were immediately 
 admitted to his presence. The bloody head was presented, 
 but the features could not be recognized. He ordered a 
 charger of water to be brought, and when he had wiped 
 away the clotted gore with his handkerchief, he saw that it 
 was indeed his brother's head. ' Alas ! unfortunate man,' 
 he exclaimed ; but Aureng Zebe was more to be pitied than 
 his victim. For a few short years of grandeur he bartered 
 his everlasting hopes of heaven. Where is he now ? And 
 what avails his villany ? 
 
 "I saw him sit upon the peacock throne, the greatest 
 wonder of art that man has ever seen ; before which the 
 pageantry of Alexander, Xerxes, or Cambyses fade into 
 dirt. The ceiling of the Dewann Khan, in which it was 
 set, and which was the chamber set apart for royal audience, 
 was incrusted with silver foliage, massive, rich, and shining; 
 columns of white marble, adorned with inlaid flower-work 
 of beautiful stones, supported the roof. Around the cor- 
 nice, in Persian letters of gold, was written, ' If there be a 
 paradise upon earth, this is it 'tis this, 'tis this.' The 
 pillars themselves were hung with tapestries of purified 
 gold, having the ground of gold, and for the roof of the 
 hall there was nothing but great canopies of flowered satin, 
 fastened with red silken cords that had big tufts of silk, 
 mixed with threads of gold, hanging on them. The throne 
 was formed of solid gold, incrusted over with diamonds,
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 177 
 
 rubies, sapphires, and emeralds. Two peacocks stood upon 
 it, with their tales expanded, which were studded with 
 various jewels to represent the life. Between the peacocks 
 stood a parrot, of the ordinary size, cut out of one emerald. 
 There were also two nosegays, consisting of various sorts 
 of flowers, all of beaten gold enamelled. The twelve columns 
 that upheld the canopy were set round by rows of pearl ; 
 and at each side of the throne were two umbrellas, the han- 
 dles of which were eight feet high, covered with diamonds ; 
 the umbrellas themselves were of crimson velvet, embroi- 
 dered and fringed with pearl. And I saw Aureng Zebe 
 sitting on this throne, splendidly apparelled in white satin, 
 flowered with the finest gold. His turban was of cloth of 
 gold, having a bird wrought upon it like a heron, whose 
 feet were covered with diamonds of an extraordinary big- 
 ness and price, with a great Oriental topaz which may be 
 said to be matchless, shining like a little sun. A collar of 
 large pearls hung about his neck to his stomach, and a 
 transparent jewel, with a diamond appendant to it, as large 
 as an egg, encompassed with rubies and emeralds, was so 
 suspended from the canopy that it always met his eye 
 wheresoever he looked. Around him were his Omrahs, 
 glittering with jewels innumerable, offering presents of fine 
 golden vessels set with precious stones, or basins filled 
 with pearls, diamonds, emeralds, or rubies. And I said 
 unto myself, ' Verily, these are fine hours with thee, King ; 
 but behind thy majesty and magnificence I see death and 
 dim corruption ; and even at this moment before thine eye, 
 in place of yon diamond, it is thy brother's bloody head 
 thou seest ; and in thine ear, in place of all these sounding 
 flatteries, it is thy prisoned father's sighs and groans that 
 ring. And in a few years all shall pass away, and thou 
 shalt be carried forth a stiff corse, and in the hour of death 
 thou shalt curse the energy that raised thee to command, 
 through heaps of murdered men, and over heaps of broken
 
 178 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 oaths. Then shalt thou know that all these scenes are hol- 
 low as a human skull, and thou shall sup full on sorrow and 
 despair. Thou shall cast thine eye backward, and it shall 
 be met with blood ; thou shalt cast thine eye forward, and 
 thou shalt perceive darkness and despair. And they who 
 now surround thee would not give a moment of their own 
 days to protract thine ; albeit they now profess entire sub- 
 mission, and are ready with their lives to prove their fealty 
 to thy person.' And as I thought these things a mist came 
 over my eyes." 
 
 Here Akiba was again silent ; his gaze was fixed on va- 
 cancy ; the expression of his features was rapt, and as if 
 inspired. A wild. gleam glittered in his eyes; he seemed 
 awed and daimon-moved. 
 
 " Yes," he cried, " I see it all. This gorgeous glittering 
 villany hath within it the essence of its own ruin. Yet a 
 few years more, and all will be overwhelmed. Thou also, 
 Delhi, which now towerest royally over the plains, shalt 
 be destroyed ; and the peacock throne of Shah Jehan shall 
 be broken into fragments. The gardens of Shalimar, now 
 splendid with their cypress avenues and sparkling foun- 
 tains, their rose-bowers thick with nightingales, their jewel- 
 crusted caves that shelter from the heat, their cedars 
 shielding out the sun, shall be a waste and a desert, and 
 their owner shall recognize them no longer. Methinks I 
 stand upon the lofty summit of Mejnoon, and gaze down- 
 ward over that dazzling city; its thousand minarets of 
 marble, its thousand cupolas of polished metal, mirrored in 
 the shining waters of the Jumna, and by the grand canal 
 on which King Feroze squandered millions. I see the gay 
 procession pass of princes and rajahs, followed by corsleted 
 and bucklered crowds that glow in polished steel and gold, 
 while camels, elephants, and horses move in all the pride 
 of purple housings and silver knots. But a cloud arises, 
 and all is tempest tempest, lightning, and tfie voice of
 
 BDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 179 
 
 thunders. The stately tower of Kootoob is wrapped in 
 night, and the marble resting home of Humaj^oon is 
 gathered in the thick folds of many mists. Midnight 
 wreathes the Jumna Musjid which Aureng Zebe himself 
 erected, to diffuse through Ind and Europe his sanctified 
 renown ; and to purge himself from shame or sin, for an 
 aged father prisoned in his palace, and a gallant brother 
 butchered like a wolf. Within it kneels the king himself, 
 clothed in rags his purple robes are laid aside, and thus 
 he prays to heaven for forgiveness. But a bolt smites him, 
 and he is no more; his palace passes, his family is de- 
 stroyed ; the crown obtained with so much treachery and 
 blood is transferred into another's hand ; and all that re- 
 mains of Aureng Zebe is the memory of his crimes, and 
 the lesson of his retribution ; the folly of the guilty, and 
 the unerring justice of the Supreme. 
 
 " The fate and fall of Dara worked a wonderful change 
 in my temper. I said to myself, ' This life suits me not.' 
 Years began to exercise their humanizing effect on me. I 
 left the ranks when I was not yet thirty years old, and 
 became a pilgrim. I visited all the sacred shrines of India ; 
 I cared not whether they were dedicated to Brahm, to Alia, 
 or to Hormuzd so long as they were consecrated to God, 
 I paid them veneration. Soumanth and Benares, Sri Saila 
 and Maha Kala, Om-Kara and Tryambaka, had equal 
 claims for me ; and I became gradually initiated into sacred 
 lore, learning equally from Buddhist and from Brahmin, 
 the most recondite mysteries of their respective creeds. 
 At length, having traversed India, I penetrated China, and 
 made the pilgrimage of that most wonderful land, seeing 
 all that could be seen, and learning the theology of that 
 most ancient people, who are the lineal descendants of Xuh, 
 whom Europeans call Noah, and the Chinese call Folii, the 
 former name being unpronounceable in their language. 
 From China I passed into Russia, and so into European
 
 180 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Turkey, from which I descended into Italy and Spain, and, 
 traversing France, crossed the sea and joined myself to the 
 gypsies, whom I found to be of our people the same in 
 blood, in language, and in affinity and with them I mean 
 to pass the brief remnant of my days. I have given orders 
 for my body to be laid in Stonehenge, that Cyclopean 
 monument of the Cuthite priests of India ; and there shall 
 it repose until the world is renewed, and all things are 
 restored to their primal condition. The summary of my 
 life may be comprised in one sentence : Mankind is every- 
 where the same, a mixture of good and evil. God is every- 
 where the same; the rewarder of the virtuous, and the 
 punisher of the wicked. Truth is everywhere the same ; 
 one and unmixed, and wholly different from the popular 
 belief. Life is everywhere the same ; a toilsome pilgrimage 
 which conducts to heaven or hell, according to the way in 
 which it is passed." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 FAIR and beautiful art thou, 0, Morning Star! Thou 
 gleamest high in the blue heaven ; the purple waves awaken 
 into light, and watch thy golden brightness on their crests. 
 I sit within my moveless gondola, and gaze aloft ; I think 
 me of the olden days when she also shone ; when she, who 
 was fairer to my soul than all the host of heaven, lived and 
 beamed, and shed her lustre on my heart. 0, days ! 0, 
 long lost days ! never once to be forgotten limned in 
 splendor, yet in darkness and in grief upon my spirit, to 
 perish only when that spirit perishes, if die it ever should. 
 How shall I recall ye ? How shall I endure to live again 
 in the blank past, and awaken memories that should repose 
 for aye ? How shall I retrace the bitter woe, the agony of
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAOU. 181 
 
 recollection, the frenzy of my love, despair and madness; 
 and yet survive to pen them dowm on paper, and calmly 
 read them in my solitude ? Yet must the effort be made 
 a pang, and resolution comes ; the iron-cased and conquer- 
 ing resolution that never yet forsook me in my need ; and 
 my hand and heart are nerved alike, and cold and firm as 
 steel. 0, star of beauty, shine upon me with propitious 
 light ! For well I know that in thy luminous sphere she 
 now abides and looks upon the lone recluse, the weary 
 wanderer the Ishmael of men, whom once she loved. And 
 often in the dawn she visits me in dream visits me, and 
 fills me with the music of the spheres. She comes to me 
 from thee ; she descends from thy silver orb ; she presses 
 my lips and whispers hope into my heart. She says, " I 
 am not dead ; I am but gone before. In the Morning Star 
 we yet shall meet, and in our union, think not of the melan- 
 choly earth." 
 
 Thou art gone, mine own ; thou art lost to me indeed. 
 For a brief space only didst thou gild my darkness. We 
 heard the songs of Paradise; we heard them but for a 
 moment, and all was chaos. Yet, oh how vividly that 
 moment lives within, around, and through me. Other 
 wandering lights have flitted on my path other false fires 
 have dazzled and misled the pilgrim of misfortune. But 
 never once wert thou erased from my soul ; never once 
 was thy celestial image hurled from the altar on which, as 
 in some sacred temple, thou wert all enshrined. 0, Fran- 
 cesca, angel of my life, this at least is true, that never once 
 wert thou forgotten. In the burning conflict, when foe 
 clashed with foe, in the tumult of the tempest, in the tur- 
 moil of ambition, in the corrupt war of courts and senates, 
 in the whirlpool of fashionable madness, in the far and 
 silent wilderness, in the thought-uplifting mountains of 
 the Orient, and on the whirling billows of the ocean, still, 
 still was I thine own ; and when the last moment of my 
 12
 
 182 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 life draws near, and the death pang quivers through my 
 frame, and my heart throbs again faintly in the mortal 
 agony, still, still, shall one image beam before me, con- 
 joined with that of God ; and that image shall be thine. 
 Do I rave, or do I see thee now ? The Morning Star opens 
 her golden gates ; she sends thee forth a beautiful winged 
 spirit ; thou glidest downwards over the silver tracks, over 
 the blue waters. I see thee, and now thou art beside me. 
 An ethereal light overshadows me. I feel thy presence ; 
 my heart is in an ecstacy. It is thou it is thou, my Fran- 
 cesca, who art come again, who art come again to cheer me 
 in my desolation ; to whisper happiness, and breathe en- 
 durance and content. 
 
 Yes, she was indeed most beautiful! The pencil of 
 Raffaele I have seen its masterpieces but none was fair 
 as she. The forms of Titian and Giorgione, the bright 
 creations of Rubens and Lety, the life-like women of Van- 
 dyke, ah ! they please, indeed, the passing eye ; but to me 
 they typify a loveliness far inferior to that of Francesca. 
 She was but thirteen when first I sought protection among 
 the Gitanos. I saw her not for upwards of a year after. 
 She was secluded from all vulgar observation ; the sun was 
 not permitted to shine upon her. Some strange, dark 
 mystery seemed to hang around her very tent. My friend 
 and tutor knew nothing of her ; the old Queen of the En- 
 campment was silent as the grave on all that appertained 
 to the lone recluse. She was guarded like the apple of the 
 eye. Accident alone revealed her to me, and it happened 
 in this way. 
 
 We were encamped on Salisbury Plain. The night was 
 fair and beautiful, ten thousand glittering stars shone in 
 the broad heaven ; shone above those sacred ruins of our 
 grand ancestors, who brought the true and holy faith of 
 God into England, and reared those solemn arches to His 
 honor. I wandered away at some distance from the tent
 
 EDWABD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 183 
 
 alone with my thoughts ; alone and far removed from 
 the homely sights that ever appertain to mere prosaic life. 
 I lifted up my heart to the Stars. I singled out the golden 
 beaming Jupiter, and thought my fate identified with him 
 bright, when he was glorious ; dark when he was dimmed. 
 The distant bark of the watch-dog alone reminded me that 
 I was in the neighborhood of life. I wandered farther and 
 farther until even this was but faintly echoed. Then did I 
 give myself wholly up to reverie. My musings probably 
 were not highly philosophic or profound ; what musings of 
 a boy ever were so ? but I can now feel that they were 
 sublime and pure ; that they were wholly disconnected with 
 earth, and all the base and wretched properties of that the- 
 atrical and tinsel puppet show which we call existence. At 
 length I retraced my steps, and had nearly reached the 
 place of encampment, when I beheld a tall figure gliding 
 noiselessly about the great pillars, like the spectre of some 
 ancient priest of Boodh, or Brahm for are not both the 
 names of the One God ? I was myself at the moment in 
 such a position that I must have been invisible ; but the 
 form of the stranger stood out distinctly against the gleam- 
 ing purple. A wanderer or a watcher at that late hour was 
 a mystery, perhaps a danger in disguise. He presented all 
 the tokens of a spy, and it became my duty to observe him. 
 I stole with panther-like tread through the prostrate ruins ; 
 I glided like a serpent to the very monolith beside which 
 the stranger stood, and yet he knew not that I was near. 
 He seemed gazing with the most fixed earnestness in the di- 
 rection of our tents ; all the energies and faculties of his 
 mind seemed concentrated into his eyes. As a sentinel on 
 the eve of some long-expected battle, when all before him 
 is wrapped in darkness, and even the bivouac fires smoul- 
 der in the gloom, peers into the obscure to catch the least 
 glimpse of an advancing foe, for well he knows his life de- 
 pends upon his vigilance even so was the anxious gaze of
 
 184 BDWABD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 this man upon the far-off tents of my companions. He 
 seemed fixed to the spot, and thus he stood motionless for 
 half an hour. At length I heard a light and cautious foot- 
 step, then a low and quick whistle, and one emerged sud- 
 denly, though from what quarter it was impossible for me 
 to see ; nor could I at first distinguish whether it was a 
 man or woman. But all doubt was soon dispelled. It was 
 a man, and one of the Gitanos. He was called Antonio. 
 He came up right to the very side of the watcher, and I 
 could see him plainly by the starlight. Nay, I think my 
 boding heart had divined who he was, even before it be- 
 held him so near to me. I crouched closer beneath the 
 shade and ruin, and felt certain that no one but with lion 
 C3 T es would be able to detect me in the gloom. Luckily I 
 was right. Both were probably too much wrapped up in 
 their own thoughts to notice any thing around them. Their 
 faculties were concentrated only on one point, and in this 
 I felt was my chief security. For this Antonio was no or- 
 dinary man. He was no unobservant drudge. He was 
 short and thick, low in the forehead, like Fox ; large in the 
 back of his head, like Bute ; his dark eyes peered out from 
 underneath hanging brows, like ferret's out of a cage; 
 they were restless and ever changing, as you must have 
 seen a rat's eyes are. I have seen plenty of such fellows 
 in Westminster Hall. Wherever you turned he seemed to 
 be watching you. There was an ever-moving, glittering ex- 
 pression about them. They seemed as volatile as quicksil- 
 ver. You never could fix or catch them in the same position 
 for more than an instant. They gave you a most unpleas- 
 ant feeling. I had always disliked this fellow. Believing 
 faithfully in the Indian doctrine of metempsychosis, I was 
 convinced that his next phase of being would be that of a 
 rat, or some such hideous creature, and I kept out of his 
 path as carefully as I could. 
 
 This vagabond now accosted the watcher.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 185 
 
 " Have I kept your lordship waiting ?" he said. " I fear 
 that I have, but I made all the haste I could. I half sus- 
 pect that I am watched 1" 
 
 " Pooh !" answered the other, " that is impossible. What 
 news ?" 
 
 " She would have been out to-night as usual, my lord, but 
 her attendant was unwell, so she stayed within to nurse 
 her." 
 
 " And how long will this illness last ?" 
 
 " Oh ! no time she will doubtless take her accustomed 
 walk to-morrow night. Let your lordship then be ready." 
 
 " At what hour ?" 
 
 " Nine." 
 
 " 'Tis well, till then take this !" and he flung him a 
 purse, and turned away. The gipsy stole towards our 
 watch-fires. I waited until he was out of sight, and then 
 taking a circuitous route, I ran as if I were winged and 
 got to the encampment before him. When he arrived there, 
 I was quietly seated in front of my own tent with Manasam. 
 Antonio passed and wished us good night. We returned 
 it, and he went on. As he disappeared I heard a death- 
 shot ringing in my ears ; I saw a conflict, and it was for life 
 or death ; a mortal struggle, a weeping female, a finely- 
 dressed man and then I heard the whizzing bullet and the 
 last scream of guilty horror. A red film of gore seemed to 
 pass before my eyes, and all was bright and clear again. 
 Satanas had got another subject. 
 
 " Well," I uttered, " so be it." 
 
 When I turned to my companion I was startled to see 
 his fixed gaze upon me. He seemed stricken with a strange 
 awe ; his eyes penetrated my heart and spirit. 
 
 " Zala-Mayna," said he, " Zala-Mayna what means this ? 
 Are you mad or dreaming?" 
 
 "How now," I answered, "what's the matter? who 
 fired ?
 
 186 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " My poor boy," said he, " you have fatigued yourself 
 with this wild ramble, go to bed go to bed." 
 
 " Who fired ?" said I, " who is shot ?" 
 
 " No one that I know of," he answered, " but speak." 
 
 I then recounted to him in a low whisper what I had 
 witnessed and heard beside the giant pillar of the plain, and 
 told him also what had just passed before my eyes. He 
 was silent for a time. He then said 
 
 " Come, let us go into our tent." 
 
 When we got there, and had interchanged thought for 
 half an hour, we concerted measures for the following night 
 These were soon arranged. I flung myself on my bed, and 
 slept. And I had a dream, and my dream was beautiful. 
 For the Morning Star descended from his throne in heaven 
 and came into my presence glorious, like a youth of God, 
 and kissed my lips, and left celestial fire upon them, and 
 then departed with a smile, which seemed to say, "Be 
 prosperous, Son of Fate !" And when I woke, the early 
 sun shone full upon me, and the larks made sweet melody, 
 and I felt secure and strong. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " Were they indeed gods who built Stonehenge, nurse ?" 
 
 " Aye, little one, the gods of India, from whom we are 
 descended, and who guard us still." 
 
 " Why did not the guards preserve their beautiful temple 
 until now ? Methinks that having brought these huge 
 stones so far from heaven they might have kept them ever 
 in perfection." 
 
 "Ah! little one, these are questions that no mortal can 
 solve." 
 
 " Shall we ever see those glorious, mighty gods ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed, let us hope so, and that soon." 
 
 " Are they as beautiful as you said ?" 
 
 " Beautiful 1 they are more beautiful than the sun. Each 
 one is twelve feet high, splendid as light, and pure as dia-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 187 
 
 mond. Their wings are silver white as moonbeams. Their 
 diadems are living fire ; their words are like sweet harps." 
 
 " Oh, how I long to see these splendid gods. Will you 
 not take me soon to their country ? It is India is India 
 far away ?" i< -& 
 
 " Many a day's sail and many a night's journey is India ; 
 but when we get there we shall see the gods." 
 
 There was a shrill whistle, at which the young damsel 
 and her nurse startled. We crouched closer beneath our 
 column. All around was clear moonlight, but we were in 
 shadow. Two figures suddenly rushed upon them they 
 were Antonio and the man he called " my lord." 
 
 " You must come with us," said the latter. And he laid 
 hold of the young girL In doing so, her face became re- 
 vealed in the moonlight ; her hood had fallen off. It was 
 the face of an angel. All heaven seemed open in that 
 innocent countenance. The eyes were soft, darkly blue; 
 the hair was golden and lustrous, like the Evening Star 
 reflected on a lake ; the skin was whiter than Italian mar- 
 ble. No sculptor ever carved a form so transcendent ; no 
 painter ever drew one. I could have fallen before her on 
 my knees as if she were the Holy Spirit. 
 
 She did not scream, but stood as if surprised. She 
 seemed puzzled to know what this man could want with 
 her. She merely said 
 
 " Oh, no, sir ! I must go home ; it is now time. This is 
 my nurse ; yonder are our tents." 
 
 " You must come with me," said my lord ; and he began 
 to pull her away. But now the nurse interposed. She de- 
 manded fiercely what they wanted. My lord made no reply. 
 Antonio, who was masked, swore at her, and told her to be 
 etill. 
 
 " Ah!" said she, " I know your voice." And she tore off 
 his mask. She had scarcely done so when he stabbed her. 
 She felL
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " Now, my lord," said he, " lose no time." And he caught 
 the little maid and began to gag her. But scarcely had he 
 laid hig rude hand upon her when he fell dead ; a shot from 
 my pistol had done the work. My last night's vision was 
 fulfilled. My lord trembled; he looked round, but saw no 
 one. Dropping the child's hand, he fled with the rapidity 
 of guilt. Manasam pursued him. I went up to the girl. 
 She was firm, but pale as death. I accosted her in softest 
 words, but she seemed to hear me or heed me not. She 
 said, " Nurse, nurse, where are you ? Come, let us go home." 
 
 A faint voice answered, "The villain has stabbed me. 
 Help, or I shall die." 
 
 I tore off my coat, I bound up her wound, I tended her, 
 and gave her a restorative from a flask. This revived her, 
 and after some delay she stood up, but her tread was feeble 
 in the extreme. " Good mother," said I, " lean on me." 
 And I helped her forward. The damsel said not a word, 
 but clung to her in speechless silence. We went slowly 
 homeward. Before we got there Manasam overtook us. 
 "He has escaped," he said. 
 
 I was summoned next day to the nurse's tent, and went 
 with Manasam. She was evidently dying; the seal of 
 death was on her pale features. When we entered, a faint 
 smile of gratitude or welcome stole over her countenance, 
 but it soon passed away. She motioned to us to sit down, 
 and we did so. 
 
 " Zala-Mayna," said she, " I have sent for you ; I have 
 much to say, and my time is short. She whom you have 
 saved is yours by right; from this day forth she is your 
 betrothed. You have given her her life ; that life should 
 be henceforth given unto you. And it will be so. I have 
 already spoken unto her, and she says it is but just. Will 
 you pledge yourself to the dying woman to receive, to cher- 
 ish, to defend her against all ?" 
 
 I willingly promised. It was like the realization of a
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 189 
 
 wild celestial dream. Manasam witnessed it. The dying 
 woman seemed content. " Now," said she, " let me tell all." 
 
 " The man from whom I have got my death-blow was my 
 second husband. His name is Antonio ; let him be seized 
 and brought to justice." 
 
 I told her he was dead. She expressed no surprise. 
 "Ah," said she, "that is right; he has got his reward; I 
 shall die content." 
 
 " My first husband," she continued, " was equally wicked. 
 He stole this beautiful one while she was yet an infant. 
 She was the sole heiress to a great estate. Her father and 
 mother doted on her. The child of their old age, when 
 there was no further hope of male offspring to supplant her 
 in her fortune, she became the very light of their eyes. 
 They worshipped her, and Devee stepped in to punish them. 
 The father had a younger brother the man whom you saw 
 last night. He is now a great lord, and holds Francesca's 
 rightful estate ; but justice shall be done, and she shall put 
 the false usurper out. He came to our tents some nine or 
 ten years since. My husband and he had some former 
 dealings together, and he sought him out and found him. 
 For an immense bribe immense I mean to my husband, 
 but to this fellow it was as nothing he employed him to 
 steal this infant, the sole obstacle between himself, a peer- 
 age, and ten thousand acres. My husband did so. He 
 brought her to me. We were then childless. ' See,' said 
 he, ' what a pretty babe I have found for you ; she lay on 
 the roadside; she was deserted; she had no father, no 
 mother. The gods have sent her to us, as we have none 
 ourselves.' I believed him. I brought her up. You have 
 seen her. Does she cast discredit on me ? Your eyes say 
 no. Well, you could not say otherwise with truth. When 
 she was twelve years old, my husband fell sick; he was 
 dying, he was afraid. He said that he had had a dreadful 
 dream ; that he could not die until he told all ; and then,
 
 190 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 for the first time, he confessed the truth and what a truth 
 it was ! The father and mother had searched the whole 
 country for their child, but could get no tidings of her. 
 The mother died broken-hearted in six months. The father 
 lingered yet a little longer, but he soon followed her to the 
 grave. The brother became my lord ; he jumped into the 
 estate, and keeps it still. My husband said, ' Nana, I can- 
 not die until you swear to me to restore her to her rights. 
 I cannot rest in my grave as long as she is defrauded. Go 
 at once to the uncle, proclaim the robbery, restore her to 
 her own, and my spirit will rest ; now it is on fire.' I made 
 the promise he demanded. He seemed more easy, but in 
 an hour he died in dreadful agony. Never shall I forget 
 his cries, his imprecations, his convulsive madness. Well, 
 he is no more." 
 
 Here she stopped. She was growing fainter and fainter. 
 The thick damps of death stood in large drops upon her 
 face. After a time she recommenced. 
 
 "Antonio became my second husband. I told him all. 
 Could I do otherwise ? We were then in a distant part of 
 the country. We came here about a year ago, and kept 
 her close. He went to my lord and demanded a great 
 sum to hide his infamy from the world. My lord refused. 
 He then threatened an exposure. Several interviews passed, 
 but little of their plans he told to me. Doubtless they at 
 length agreed, and last night's treachery disclosed their 
 compact. My lord had always said he would pay no more 
 money because he could not trust him. ' Give me up the 
 girl,' he said, 'and name your own reward; she shall be 
 safe, but in a foreign land; without this you shall have 
 nothing.' Antonio proposed it to me, but I refused. It 
 was in the night. My husband's ghost stood before me. 
 He was covered in blood; he was wrapped in fire. He 
 wept, he screamed, he cursed at me. He gave me no rest 
 night or day. I refused to come in to Antonio's plans. I
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 191 
 
 eaid if you restore her not I will call the whole tribe to- 
 gether ; I will expose you, I will expose the dead, but she 
 shall have her rights. He pretended to agree with all I 
 said, but now I know that it was a snare. He acted but to 
 lull me. He knew that we walked out at night; he pre- 
 pared this plot, doubtless, for an immense price, but he 
 was deceived. He betrayed himself he fell into his own 
 pit. Well, it is right and just ; but I also am punished for 
 my weakness. I also suffer this because I reinstated her 
 not myself, but intrusted that sacred duty to a knave. Ha I 
 what see I ? It is my husband's phantom. He comes to 
 drag me with him into ruin. Now, he approaches keep 
 him away, keep him away God ! O good friends, keep 
 him away. Ah ! he is upon me. He will not be removed. 
 He will not pardon. He will not forgive me for my broken 
 oath. Yet I was not wholly guilty ; all my intentions 
 were good. friends, save me save me from this appal- 
 ling vision. He seizes me by the throat he chokes he 
 strangles he slays me. Oh !" 
 
 She died in agony. We were affrighted with a wild 
 horror. Alas ! she took the secret of Francesca's birth 
 with her. It was lost forever. 
 
 We buried both next day in the same grave; the de- 
 ceived wife, the treacherous husband. We piled a small 
 mound of stones over them, and left the place of blood. 
 No one inquired how Antonio perished; but Manasam 
 called the tribe together. He recounted all, even from the 
 beginning. We were betrothed the same day ; I and Fran- 
 cesca. No one lifted up a murmur for the death of this 
 accursed scoundrel; every heart felt, confessed, and knew 
 that it was his fate his merited fate. 
 
 Among the Gitanos, when a couple are betrothed, they 
 wander not together alone. This were infamy for their 
 women must not even be suspected. They are all chaste. 
 The highest-born princess of Europe is not so modest in
 
 192 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 every thought and word as the poor Gitana who sleeps 
 under the tent, with only the bright stars to be her sen- 
 tinels. But the Queen gipsy took compassion on our 
 youth. Francesca, too, was not a Gitana, and I was sent 
 of the Eagle. She said, "These must not abide in all 
 things by our laws. Let them be together ; let them pass 
 the next year in sweet communion, side by side. He will 
 not harm her. I know it by his eyes. Even if he tried, 
 the Gods of Brightness would defend her. Let it be;" 
 and so it was. We walked thenceforth together ; we went 
 wherever we pleased. The Gipsy-queen received her into 
 her tent, and in a year our nuptials were to take place. 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 WHAT a year was that ! Nature herself seemed all pro- 
 pitious. Never shone the sun more beautifully over the 
 earth ; never bloomed the flowers and the trees with more 
 vernant brightness ; never gleamed the stars with lustre 
 more divine. Ye fair and pastoral hills, how sacred ye 
 are! ye are dedicated to an everlasting holiness in my 
 heart. We strayed over their smooth undulations, and 
 gazed upon the distant ocean, blue and sparkling, like the 
 seas in heaven ; we descended to the dappled beach, white 
 with many a shell, and, hand in hand, wandered by its re- 
 sounding margin ; now watching the great waves as they 
 rolled and boomed, and broke in glittering fragments upon 
 the beach ; now gazing upon the transparent fall of emerald 
 which they mimicked when the evening sun shone through 
 their curling depths ; now hearkening to their wild chorus 
 when they hoarsely broke upon the strand; and now 
 charmed with the soft and fairy-like whisper with which
 
 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 193 
 
 they glided over the soft sand, and melted away within its 
 bosom, as if too gentle to do ought but touch it with their 
 slightest kiss. We looked upon the West, and saw the 
 Golden Palaces of the Sun ; we lingered until the Evening 
 Star arose, and roved in fancy amid the lakes, the gardens, 
 the deeply purple glens, and castellated halls that seemed 
 to live and glitter in the sky, and offer us a home of peace 
 within that far-off Paradise. 
 
 Francesca, though now fifteen, was a perfect child. The 
 calm seclusion in which she had been brought up had made 
 her wholly ignorant of the world or its ways. She was so 
 fair that to her nurse it seemed a profanation to dye that 
 lily skin ; she was so gentle and so pure that she had not 
 the heart to expose her to the rude gaze even of her own 
 people. She guarded . her as they guard the sacred Caaba 
 in the fane of Mecca. No profane eye had ever shed its evil 
 light upon her loveliness. The gypsy who had stolen her 
 had alwa3 T s impressed upon his wife the necessity of keep- 
 ing her away from view. When he was dying, and the 
 terrible secret of his heart was at length revealed, solitude 
 had become so much her habit, that she and her nurse con- 
 tinued it from choice. The Queen of the Encampment was 
 the only person to whom the latter disclosed the circum- 
 stances under which she had become possessed of her ; and 
 it was principally under the guidance of the Queen that the 
 nurse had urged Antonio to seek the usurping lord, and 
 extort from his fears, if not from his justice, the tardy 
 recognition of Francesco's rights. How both were disap- 
 pointed has been seen. 
 
 Thus brought up in solitude and silence, seldom coming 
 forth into the world, except when the moon and stars were 
 in their glory, and wholly kept apart from aught that 
 could stain her pure mind, her character was in a great 
 measure wholly different from that of other females, and 
 she seemed to be the denizen of a different sphere. When
 
 194 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 I first knew her, she could neither read nor write; her 
 mind was that of a young mountaineer ; a crystal tablet all 
 unmarked, but yet as beautiful as a seraph's soul. In a 
 little time she learned both accomplishments, and when 
 I opened to her this world of wonders, sweet and boundless 
 was her gratitude. This task was exquisitely delightful ; 
 her innocent surprise at all she heard was the most raptur- 
 ous reward I could have received. I told her all the faery 
 lore I knew myself; of the little hill men who dwell in 
 topaz palaces beneath the earth, and the nymphs that fill 
 the shell and coral caves of ocean ; of the elves and water- 
 necks, the trolls and dwarfs ; the fair invisible existences 
 that connect the race of mortals with the angelic choir 
 above them, and the glorious Essences that dwell in light. 
 From these I lifted up her mind to the celestial tenants of 
 the stars, and taught her how in ancient ages they stood 
 before the Throne of God, each a sun in brightness and mag- 
 nificence, until the schism rose which first divided the sons 
 of Heaven, and separated Light from Darkness. 
 
 I told her of the soul and its immortal splendor, its 
 heavenly origin, and final hope ; how it became a wanderer 
 from the Gardens of Eden, that have their place high with 
 God ; how it suffered, and wept, and ever longed to return 
 to its primal home ; how it was clogged and fettered by the 
 flesh, the world, and temptation, but how it finally should 
 triumph over all obstacles, and be numbered once again 
 among the golden, shining bands of the Father and the 
 King. I spoke to her of the innumerable spheres of light 
 which rolled in silence over our heads each one a world 
 inhabited by splendid Existences, entirely different from 
 men, as men differ from birds and insects, fishes or flowers ; 
 and taught her how these Star-dwellers lifted up their 
 thoughts to the All-Father, and were filled with reverence 
 and love, even as all created beings should be. I gave my 
 fancy wings, and endeavored to depicture the many grades
 
 EDWABD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 195 
 
 and orders of happiness which in perpetual Cycles revolve 
 around the Divine Centre ; and thus, with truth and imagi- 
 nation intermingled, I sought to color her soul with those 
 tints of beauty which make it wholly perfect. Why did I 
 not confine myself to plain matter of fact ? Because I hate 
 it, because it is detestable, because it is false, because it is 
 lowering and degrading. When we soar in fancy above 
 this clay, we are near to God ; when we chain ourselves 
 down to one, two, three, and carry nought, we are very 
 sober, decent, tradesmanlike persons, but are only earthly, 
 carnal, grubbing moles. 
 
 " Oh ! Zala-Mayna," she would say, " how thankful ought 
 I to be to the good God that he has sent you here to us. 
 The old Queen calls you Eagle-sent. Are you indeed so ?" 
 
 " I believe, indeed, I am Heaven-sent to you, my sweet 
 Francesca." 
 
 " Whether Heaven or an Eagle sent you, I know not ; 
 but however it may have happened, it was a happy hour 
 for both." 
 
 "Nay, it was more happy still for me than you, for have 
 I not j'our love ?" 
 
 She hung down her head in silence ; but I looked into 
 her violet blue eyes, and saw her heart imaged in their light. 
 
 " How came it that you have learned all these wonderful 
 things ? You are not much older than myself." 
 
 " I have always been a hard worker, Francesca ; and I 
 have had hard teachers, too, and of late a sage one ; but 
 best of all are you." 
 
 " Why what could I teach you, Zala-Mayna ?" 
 
 " The flower and fruit of knowledge endurance of life, 
 of man. Until I knew you I hated myself I hated almost 
 every one in the world. I disbelieved in virtue, for I had 
 never seen any ; I had no faith in truth, or honesty, or 
 chastity. My whole existence was poisoned. I believe I 
 cursed God for letting me come into being. But now I
 
 196 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 bless Him, and I begin to feel that love, and charity, and 
 soft-eyed gentleness are germinating in my heart ; and I 
 could even forgive my enemies their crimes." 
 
 " What crimes have they committed against you, Zala- 
 
 Mayna?" 
 
 '* The worst the crimes of blind, unreasoning hatred, 
 for no cause ; a mother's detestation a father's cold for- 
 getfulness a sister's enmity. Why am I an exile and a 
 wanderer ? Why am I the associate of these wild people ? 
 For I am not of their breed, or blood, or kindred. Why ? 
 but because I have been wronged, like Ishmael, and like 
 Ishmael's glorious children may I have revenge." 
 
 " Oh Zala-Mayna, you frighten me. Said you not but 
 now that love and gentleness were in your heart ? Whither 
 are they gone ?" 
 
 " One word of thine, Francesca, brings them back. When 
 I have wedded thee, I will put reins over my proud heart. 
 I will go home and seek my father ; I will fall on my knees 
 before him. I will present my angel to him. He will see 
 and love thee ; he will forgive the past ; he will embrace 
 his son; he will take us to his heart and home. Then shall 
 my Francesca assume her proper place ; then shall we un- 
 veil the treacherous kinsman who has robbed her." 
 
 The sun grew faint and dark as I spake these words ; 
 his disk was covered with a dim cloud ; a chill a forebod- 
 ing crept over my spirit. What ! was this blessing then to 
 be denied ? I shuddered ; I dared not think it would be so. 
 Had God wholly left me ? 
 
 " That will be indeed pleasant, Zala-Mayna. But I would 
 not have thee count upon success in restoring me to that 
 which I have lost. It will not weaken thy love, dearest, if 
 it fail." 
 
 " No, Francesca, my love is forever, as I hope thine is >r 
 
 " So is my love, also, Zala-Mayna ; for you are all the 
 world to me. Before I knew thee, I was dead. Now I am
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 197 
 
 alive and happy. If my life could serve thee, I would give 
 it. For you have given me more than life ; you have given 
 me a soul, which I had not until I knew and learned from 
 thee." 
 
 Thus we talked and speculated and Nemesis, I suppose, 
 heard us, and laughed behind that dun cloud. What is 
 Nemesis ? Have you ever thought, wise student ? 
 
 Much of our time was spent on the water. I had put 
 together a rude boat, which was just capable of containing 
 three persons myself, Francesca, and a young Gitana, who 
 sometimes accompanied us. The boat carried a small sail, 
 and from long practice I had grown fearless, and cared not 
 what winds blow, or waves rolled ; secure in a sort of con- 
 sciousness of invulnerability which has always accompanied 
 me, and I believe preserved me through the greatest dangers. 
 I have never yet been wounded, and I know I never shall. 
 Yet I have passed through war and terror more than most 
 men, and have wrestled for life in dreadful conflict on the 
 land and sea. What life can be compared to this ? life in 
 the free open beam of Nature, amid her hills, and by her 
 waters, beneath her blue and smiling skies, and her stars of 
 lights ? The very atmosphere seemed loaded with purity ; 
 the whole aspect of all that was around us seemed ineffably 
 sacred. Our tent existence was a dark, prosaic spot, 
 indeed, in this delicious picture, for there we came in contact 
 with strange and wild characters, now homely, now earth- 
 born in the extreme ; but when we were away in the silent, 
 green, and lonely Downs, on which the sun glittered with 
 resplendent softness, and over which the choir of larks, and 
 blackbirds, and thrushes warbled with the wildest melody, 
 aud in strains that poured gladness through the vital being ; 
 when we reclined among the wild thyme, or amid beds of 
 violets, and heath, and clover with which the place was 
 filled, and gazed upon the solemn, grand, majestic wall of 
 ocean in the sapphire distance, over which the silver sea- 
 13
 
 198 BDWABD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 gull twinkled, or some solitary ship moved in full sail ; or 
 when we looked aloft into the purple heaven above us, and 
 fashioned to ourselves the fancy of some lovely sphere to 
 which our spirits might ascend, and go through scenes of 
 wonder, and delight, and rare achievement then, indeed, 
 we were most happy ; for we were far removed from all that 
 makes actual life a thing of dulness and routine, except in 
 those fiery passages of war, or travel, or adventure, which 
 are so rare, and so exciting. To pass one's time with 
 Nature is always sweet ; this the anchorites of old felt ; her 
 heavenly calm penetrates our essence and makes us like 
 herself; but when love like ours becomes a portion of the 
 life so passed, there is no dweller in a palace, or wearer of 
 a crown whom I would envy for a moment. 
 
 We sailed along a little lagune which flows up just below 
 the green meadows, where, under the arch of a few old trees, 
 our camp was pitched ; we bore our light skiff over the 
 barrier of beach which divided this from the open sea, and 
 launched it on its purple bosom. The gentle winds filled the 
 white sail, and wafted us smoothly into the full ocean ; there 
 we cast our nets and snared the fish, or mused over some 
 favorite volume, for I had now procured a few books ; and 
 Taso, Ariosto, and Dante became alike companions of our 
 love-winged hours. We lived again in the days of knight- 
 hood and enchantment. We meditated on the spirit-secrets 
 of the Dark Unknown, to which the lonely Florentine led 
 us as it were in a dream. I told her of my past life, its 
 follies, failings, and aspirations. I recounted the odd 
 scenes into which chance had thrown me, and contrasted the 
 drawing-room, or the assembly, their artificial lights and 
 poison-breathing flowers, and hollow habitants, with that in 
 which we now moved. As we both reflected more and more 
 on the falseness that is the distinguishing characteristic of 
 towns and polite people, we turned to each other with 
 renewed happiness; and feeling all the rapture of our
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 199 
 
 situation, on which no evil eye intruded, on which no female 
 tongue vented its venom, on which no snake-like heart 
 effused its malice, we thanked the errant chance that had 
 thus brought together two spirits so congenial, fervent, and 
 united. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 HE who hath not known love, let him die. To him the 
 great Mysteries of Life are a sealed volume. He is but half 
 a man, and when he passes away from earth he passes as 
 an incomplete being, whose mission among his brethren 
 has been unfulfilled. For there is no passion that awakens 
 the heart and evokes its mystic faculties but this. Ambi- 
 tion I have felt it, but it is a base and selfish feeling ; its 
 every energy is concentrated into one focus, for the indi- 
 vidual advancement of the laborer, the two-legged mite who 
 wishes to be worshipped by other mites. Avarice is the 
 same; the pride of knowledge is also a poor selfish thing; 
 but love alone is a dual divinity; its hopes, efforts, and 
 objects are all shared with another, and that other is the 
 better and purer half of our own nature. O woman ! how 
 true, how noble, how heavenly a being thou art 1 I have 
 read and heard of men at whose name the world bows the 
 knee, and have been taught to think in honor of their hero- 
 ism ; but the true, the sole, the great and perfect heroic, 
 exists in Woman only or if there be an exception among 
 Men, it is only that it may prove the rule to be true which 
 I have first enunciated. There have been moments when I 
 would have curled the lip at any man who spake this truth, 
 and sneered him down as most unworthy of his race ; when 
 I would have smitten him to the dust with a mocking glance 
 and a satirical smile, as one but fitted to comb a lap-dog or
 
 200 BDWAED WORTLBY MOKTA<JU. 
 
 be " brained by my lady's fan ;" but in the confessions of 
 my heart I will not lie, nor deceive myself or others. I will 
 put forth the broadly honest opinions of my soul, founded 
 upon experience and reflections. Man is intellectually 
 superior, but morally inferior to Woman ; and all the great 
 things of the earth will be found on examination to have 
 been inspired, fostered, and fed under the sunshine of 
 female auspices. 
 
 It would be easy to prove this by reference to history and 
 biography, but this is not a disquisition. Let him who 
 questions it inquire with an honest spirit, and he will find 
 that I am right. He will trace back every noble discovery, 
 either in art or science ; every holy principle of philanthropy 
 that has been reduced into practical action ; every institu- 
 tion that redeems earth from ignominy, and gives a glimpse 
 of the Paradise Gardens from which we are hapless exiles, 
 to the guiding influence of sacred Woman. From her the 
 philosopher has learned the truest love; the soldier the 
 most lofty courage ; the navigator the rarest patience ; the 
 poet the purest sentiment. Open the historic page, and 
 every line is full of feminine devotion and grandeur of soul, 
 faithfulness in affliction, courage in misfortune, wisdom in 
 the midst of danger, hope when whirled in the eddies of 
 despair. 
 
 Think not, O grave and stolid man, that I am an enthu- 
 siast because I have known and loved one perfect woman. 
 I know the sanity of that species of philosophy which 
 judges generally from units. I know how wild would be 
 the delusion of supposing that all women are alike great 
 and holy, because I happen to be acquainted with one who 
 combined within herself greatness and holiness. I have 
 not said all women are alike ; I should be mad if I were to 
 say it. I have met women that were baser than wolves. I 
 have not compared all women with my Francesca. I should 
 be a dupe or a liar if I had done so, for I have seen some
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 201 
 
 that were as fiends. All that I have said implies this, and 
 no more, that comparing Woman with Man, the former is 
 immeasurably his superior in all that elevates our race 
 above mere earthliness ; and that Men would be a horde of 
 savages, or worse, if they were not humanized or even 
 etherealized by the benign influence of Women. I know 
 that men have become effeminate and women have become 
 detestable when female power was in the ascendant over 
 the male, as it is in France at this moment ; but I speak 
 not of a state of things which is the result of vice, but that 
 which is the inevitable consequence of virtue. 
 
 Let me have done, however, with moralizing. It is at all 
 times dull work, and never more so than when introduced 
 into a Life Story, which must depend upon facts for its 
 value. This book is a record of things that actually took 
 place. Let those who will, draw their own lessons from 
 the circumstances narrated ; and if they do not like my 
 conclusions, let them adopt their own as better. 
 
 The sun shines sweetly in the heaven ; I see the sparkling 
 distant sea, lit by ten million glittering splendors. The 
 rich blue sky canopies the deep water ; all is peace, beauty, 
 and divineness. I lean back in my chair and let my 
 thoughts wander back into the Past. I dream a dream of 
 exquisite fancy. A series of pictures rises up before my 
 memory like those that gleam upon us as we muse over 
 Spenser's Faerie Queen ; but they are indescribable. Their 
 evanescent tints are gone before I can commit them to the 
 dull paper. I cast my eyes backwards, far, far over my 
 whole pilgrimage, and it is a varied one ; but is at times 
 brightened by sweet scenes. Those of early youth are 
 perhaps alone the pleasantest yet are not they wholly 
 without a cloud ? 
 
 Francesca! my own, my loved, my fond twin-heart I 
 where art thou now ? Shinest thou upon me from the 
 heaven of light, where alone thy dwelling-place can be?
 
 202 EDWARD WOETLBT MONTAGU. 
 
 Hast thou revisited earth to bring me comfort in my loneli- 
 ness? Where art thou? Thou seest how I love thee 
 albeit, thou art lost to mine embrace ; yet in thy pure spirit 
 must abide one strong conviction, that thou alone wert as 
 my soul's second self, and that losing thee I lost all. I 
 dream of thee on my lonely couch ; in the day when I 
 walk forth I see and feel thee in the surrounding sunshine. 
 When the bright and warm rays play around me, methinks 
 it is thy clasp I feel ; when the stars glitter over me at 
 midnight methinks it is thy smile, thy vigilant eye of love 
 that effuses its beam above my form, and beckons me to 
 yonder glowing spheres. I move upon the ocean, and I 
 am conscious of thy presence ; I wander into the mountain, 
 and I know that thou art there ; a magnetic effluence from 
 all surrounding beautiful objects glides through me, and 
 speaks to me of thee. Music ; when I hearken to it, it is 
 thy witching speech I hear; the rainbow; when I look 
 upon it, it is thy softening presence ; the breath of flowers, 
 when they charm me ; it is thy breath I feel ; the wind 
 whispers amid the pine trees, and lo ! it is thy voice that 
 calls to me from heaven. When I recall those bygone 
 days, how beautifully they revive in heavenly brightness. 
 Methinks I was a spirit then now I am a man ; a mere 
 man of base, muddy flesh and blood all over animal, all 
 over earthliness, unetherealized, disenchanted. I have 
 grown so thoroughly worldly and animal-like that I can 
 almost believe the wild theory of those who tell us every 
 man is twofold half an angel, half a demon ; and that as 
 the influence of each predominates, so is his life shaped. 
 In those days I feel that I was pure. In her presence I 
 was a spirit worthy of the Divine Presence. All my 
 thoughts were high and august. I could no more have 
 conceived an impure idea when my loved Francesca was 
 beside me than I could have risen up and blasphemed God ; 
 for she was purity itself.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 203 
 
 We were entirely isolated from all the world. Over the 
 gypsies she seemed silently to hold some wondrous spell. 
 She was among them, but not of them. Generally speak- 
 ing, they are not much inclined to yield submission to the 
 stranger but Francesca appeared to exercise even over 
 the rudest, some mysterious mighty influence. They did 
 not accost her as they were used to accost others ; to me 
 also they manifested a sort of savage deference ; and as it 
 were by common consent, we were unmolested in all things. 
 The lonely Downs were ever ours ; the green dales, in which 
 only were a few wandering sheep, formed our favorite walk. 
 When the sun was bright, we crept into a shepherd's hut, 
 and looked upon the distant sea, which seemed to rear its 
 sapphire sparkling wall against the land. But for some 
 wandering barque, it would have resembled a solid barrier 
 of glittering gems. Here also was our shelter when the 
 rain fell but this is a rare event in this southern clime. 
 What was our employment in those hours, it may be asked ? 
 In truth we had none. We sat silent ; we sat entranced. 
 For both it was delight enough to hold the hand within 
 the hand ; to look into the eyes, and give utterance to the 
 heart in a sigh ; to breathe some simple vow of love into the 
 ear ; to watch the light that beamed in the happy smile, or 
 the lustre that played over the rosy lip, and then fell back 
 into mute reverie. 
 
 There was one feeling, which above all others was deeply 
 impressed upon the heart of this sweet and dreaming child 
 of beauty the feeling of Religion let me add, without 
 presumption, that I labored all I could to foster it; for 
 without dependence and belief in God, what is man, and 
 what is life? Heaven knows I am no puritan, and my 
 career has been wild, wayward and eccentric, but never 
 have I forgot Him who is above all ; nor ever have I ceased 
 to breathe this name into the heart of any who would listen. 
 My Francesca was naturally pious and good. Her pure
 
 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and heavenly heart was in harmony with pure and heavenly 
 things. Akiba had given a solemn tinge to my own mind ; 
 the old man had so long outlived the vanities of earth, and 
 tad so fully experienced that in life there is, after all, noth- 
 ing certain but the Future, and the Lord of the Future, 
 that he had often checked my youthful folly, and brought 
 me back from mere earthliness to themes of heaven and 
 immortal life. I was a boy, indeed yet I hope with feel- 
 ings that were not wholly boyish ; and though I could not 
 venture to dictate to her, yet I could direct her thoughts 
 where they needed it. But they flowed naturally into re- 
 ligion, holiness and purity. She was unperplexed by 
 schools or systems; her religion was the outpouring of 
 the heart to God in gratitude, in veneration, in faith ; the 
 three essentials which, as it seems to me, constitute the 
 whole secret of the truly religious spirit. She loved Him 
 not because of liturgies or theories, but because she felt He 
 deserved her love and the love of all His creatures, no 
 matter how lowly they may be. 
 
 She lifted up her sweet eyes to Heaven, and saw the Su 
 preme everywhere in His golden, beaming stars, peopled 
 with eve rlasing existences ; in His rainbow, which we are 
 told is the canopy of His everlasting throne of splendor 
 in His moon, the nearest of all His spheres to this our 
 wandering earth bright luminary of the blue heaven, 
 whose presence is like soft music to the contemplative 
 heart ; in His sun, that emblem of himself, which ever and 
 ever revolves in light and beauty, and brings happiness and 
 health whenever he appears. Nor did she recognize the 
 Holy One in these only they are such vast and wondrous 
 evidences that they flash conviction even upon the dullest. 
 In tne minutest of His works she saw Him not less clearly 
 manifested. The mountain towering in sublime grandeur 
 was not more clearly indicative of His power, than the 
 little mite which ran over the leaf, and which in the minu-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 205 
 
 test form presented all the functions of a living being, with 
 heart, brain, eyes, veins and muscles may I add a soul ? 
 For who can doubt every living thing is immortal and can 
 never die ? The blue and silver arch of heaven every mo- 
 ment presenting new and glorious aspects, was not a more 
 certain demonstration of the Eternal One, than the leaf of 
 the rose tree, which showed in its minute ramifications of 
 veins, and nerves, and arteries, the astonishing benevolence 
 of God, who wills not that even a bit of herbage shall be 
 without its happiness ; and who provides for that happi- 
 ness by giving it all those fine and delicate fibres of organi- 
 zation which are of the same nature as those that pervade 
 the brain and heart of man, and lift him from the earth to 
 God. 
 
 One day she fell on her knees before me. I had been 
 wayward, foolish, inconsiderate, importunate. Methinks I 
 see her now. Her hat was half suspended on her shoulders ; 
 her hair in wild ringlets hung down her snowy neck ; her 
 white robe shone like the raiment of some celestial spirit. 
 But her eyes who can paint their heavenly expression of 
 sadness, passion and undying fondness ? She wept ; she 
 held my hands in hers ; she kissed them a thousand times ; 
 she hung her head on my lap. Her look, so full of loveli- 
 ness, besought love, sj'mpathy, protection. The sunshine 
 fell around us in golden showers; the birds sang; the 
 heaven rejoiced in light ; the distant ocean sparkled like 
 one of the rivers of Indra ; the wind bore the fragrance of 
 the violets that were thickly bedded on the adjoining hill- 
 ock. I raised her to my heart ; I folded her as if I should 
 never loose her again. What mighty passion then convulsed 
 our souls ? Either would at that moment have sacrificed 
 life for the welfare of each other. 
 
 " My own darling Edward," she said, " say again, and 
 again, that you will never leave me ?"
 
 206 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 "Never, Francesco never will I leave thee while life 
 lasts." 
 
 " Yet I feel a sad presentiment of evil. Do you believe 
 in presentiments ?" 
 
 " Why do you ask me, dearest, if you are certain of my 
 love?" 
 
 "Yes I am certain of your love, but this condition 
 seems too heavenly to last, and my heart is sad, and my 
 hopes are clouded." 
 
 " Love me, and then you will not be sad." 
 
 " Oh ! I cannot love you more than I now do. It is the 
 very force of my love that makes me fear we shall be 
 parted." 
 
 " Fear not, Francesca but even if we are, know that it 
 will be but for a time. Your soul and mine are one. 
 Nothing can disunite them. Death may separate, but after 
 death there is God " 
 
 " Well then, I shall hope on convinced that death, if 
 nothing else, will make us one." 
 
 " In that hope abide, my own love, and then nothing can 
 make you sad." 
 
 Hand in hand we descended from the Downs, and launched 
 our little boat. The wind blew freshly ; we sped along the 
 lagune, and watched the wavering sail and flitting clouds, 
 and she nestled by my side, as with a guiding hand I man- 
 aged sheet and rudder. We passed oat into the deep waters. 
 The waves rose in azure light above our prow ; there was 
 an emerald track behind us where we had cut the green and 
 yielding sea. We went out into the deep waters. It was 
 little more than noon. All was still, sunny, heavenly, 
 bright. The ocean was like a sleeping child. The sun 
 gleamed on the verdant laughing hills ; the far-off cottages 
 and villas sparkled like snow on the distant shore. Every 
 feature of the scene was placid and delightful. We saw 
 the sauntering horseman glide along the inland highway ;
 
 EDWARD WOKTLBT MONTAGU. 207 
 
 we watched the sea-birds skimming over the marble-like 
 face of ocean ; we leaned back in the boat and were happy, 
 if ever children of the earth were happy. 
 
 Thus the lazy hours passed, and thus it was for months. 
 On land, we chased the butterfly, or gathered thyme ; on 
 sea we cast our nets, and captured the many-colored fish. 
 Books also were our companions ; and when books tired, 
 Francesca sang, and sweetly rolled her voice over those 
 blue waters. The echo entered my soul ; it melted my very 
 heart. It was like a spirit of love embodied in humau form. 
 At times, too, we brought a flute with us, and as I had ac- 
 quired some skill in playing, I often made the distant 
 Downs re-echo the soft melody, that floated along the sea 
 like some water-nymph. Meanwhile our wandering boat 
 skimmed listlessly about, we cared not how or whither. 
 When we got into deep water, I furled the sail, and gave 
 her up to chance to waft her as it willed. There was a wild 
 excitement in thus surrendering our souls to the present, 
 and living in the summer-day sunshine without a thought 
 or care. When we woke out of our ecstatic dreams, it 
 often happened that we found ourselves far and far away 
 from land, and reached the shore at night with difficulty. 
 
 On one of these excursions the sun had been particularly 
 powerful ; not a breath stirred the sea. Our boat lay still 
 as if she had been fastened into the solid emerald ; there 
 was not wind enough even to lift the light vane that she 
 carried at her mast-head. We were weary. I pulled the 
 sail over our heads, and we lay down in each other's arms. 
 We mused a while, and then fell asleep. A dream appeared 
 above us. A fair woman, but her eyes were sad, and there 
 was sorrow painted in her face ; she gazed on us for a long 
 time with an indescribable look of love and hope, and 
 tenderness, and light. A whole eventful life was written 
 in her clear brown eyes ; my heart yearned towards her 
 with a strange sympathy. She was richly dressed, but
 
 208 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 with a simple air, devoid of art. After contemplating na 
 in silence, she beckoned as it were upwards, and I heard in 
 soft voice, the words : " Come and see." And suddenly 
 beside her stood a man, not very tall, but with a command- 
 ing presence, and noble bearing. She cast her eyes down- 
 wards upon us and smiled ; he also did the same, and each 
 looked upon the other, and a heavenly ray played over 
 their features. They now stood by my side, and my heart 
 seemed gladdened. I felt an invisible energy within that 
 seemed to uplift me from the sea, and to transport me into 
 a distant sphere. Then Francesca rose up, I knew not 
 whence, for I had not before seen her, and she stood be- 
 tween them, and they kissed her with a holy fondness, and 
 each taking a hand, they led her towards me, and placed 
 her in my arms, and I thought I heard these words, " Take 
 her, she is thine, guard her as the apple of thine eye, for 
 no purer, fairer being breathes the breath of life. We give 
 her to thee for thine own, for thou hast saved her, and we 
 know that in thy heart she is the shrined and loved one." 
 And the dream was gone and we awoke, both in the same 
 instant, and I told her what I had seen, and we knew that 
 it was a vision of those who had given her birth, and of 
 whom we yet knew nothing. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Now I became filled with an intense desire to know the 
 secret of her birth and history. Francesca remembered 
 nothing herself; she had been stolen away at a period when 
 memory can scarcely be said to exist. I often questioned 
 her, but she strove in vain to recall a glimpse of her early
 
 ED WARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 209 
 
 life. At length I mentioned my perplexity to Akiba. He 
 listened and made answer 
 
 " To me this is not difficult. Bring her hither." 
 It was with some difficulty that I could persuade this 
 sweet child to a meeting with the old man. During her 
 sojourn with the nurse, she had heard so much of his weird 
 and eldritch powers, exaggerated as all such things are by 
 common report, that she dreaded even to hear him named. 
 What will not a lover's lips persuade his beloved to do ? 
 She consented at length, and we went to the old man's tent. 
 It was on the new moon eve ; no one else was present. We 
 found him sitting in a corner apparently in reverie. A 
 small mukhooroo or tabernacle stood in the centre made 
 of wicker-work, and over it was placed a brass image of 
 some Indian deity, and half a dozen ancient looking amu- 
 lets. There was also an earthen vessel of curious shape, 
 in which frankincense, camphor, and other precious per- 
 fumes were alight and burning. The old man having a 
 twisted silken sash of man3 r colors, fumed it over the 
 smoking fire, and bound it round his head, and then after 
 a considerable pause chanted words somewhat in the fol- 
 lowing fashion : 
 
 My being Is filled with the wnren of the Supreme, 
 I gee nought else but the All-knowing. 
 
 wielder of the all-beaming light, 
 
 Let thy Splendor illuminate thy servant. 
 
 Let my whole form be made luminous, 
 
 My heart, my soul, my brain, my spirit. 
 
 My being is filled with the waren of the Supreme, 
 
 1 see nought else but the All-knower. 
 As the sun puts the darkness to flight, 
 Even so let thy Wisdom dispel Ignorance. 
 
 That I may penetrate the dim Past, 
 
 That I may behold the secrets of former days. 
 
 That I may view imaged the hidden deeds, 
 That were done in defiance of Thee. 
 
 My being is filled with the waren of the Supremo, 
 I Bee nought else but the All-knowcr.
 
 210 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Then concentrating his gaze with a fixed stare upon 
 Francesca, he regarded her for about five minutes. A 
 strange, unearthly, greenish light glittered in his eyes. He 
 seemed possessed. His color came and went; now his 
 cheeks were icy pale, and now suffused with fire But his 
 eyes never lost that fixed and flaming emerald-colored 
 splendor which I have since seen only in the eyes of a hyena 
 in the midnight hour. Then in a hollow voice the old man 
 spake these words 
 
 " I see a noble-looking man in the flower of life, and by 
 his side is a fair bride. They pass from the gray old 
 church ; they are borne through a vast park, into a mansion 
 of great extent ; a double line of servants greets them with 
 many a blessing. They are followed by a younger man, who 
 bears a strong resemblance to the first a brother, or some 
 near relative. He smiles upon the newly-married pair, and 
 offers them his warm wishes. I see into his heart ; there is 
 a chalice of poison hidden there, and under the chalice there 
 is the symbol of a serpent. Happy are the days and years 
 of the young couple. But one blessing only is denied. 
 They have no child to be the heir of their vast possessions. 
 They have every wish gratified but this. At length a child 
 is born, but it is a daughter. Great, nevertheless, is the 
 rejoicing ; the brother comes and is glad, but I see into his 
 heart, and he meditates death or some other evil. Friends 
 are summoned from all parts of the country to celebrate the 
 auspicious birth, and there are young heads crowned with 
 flowers, and old temples mantled with joy, and the ancient 
 mansion is lit up, and all is splendor and festivity, and 
 happiness, for another scion of that noble family is born, 
 and its great possessions shall not pass out of the direct 
 line. The husband smiles upon his wife, and they look 
 forward to years of happiness, and anticipate the career 
 that opens for the lovely stranger who has come to them 
 from God.
 
 BDWABD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 211 
 
 " Some years pass, and the babe is grown, and is the beauty 
 of the whole country ; golden are her flowing locks, and blue 
 her eyes, and her skin is like the water-lotus in its sunny 
 brightness ; her complexion is the rainbow's pink. And 
 proud and happy are the parents of so fair a flower. She 
 wanders in her father's garden a lovely place, with balus- 
 trades of marble, and terraces with flowers, and fountains 
 launching their silver waters into the sunny air ; and her 
 father's brother is by her side ; her nurse also is there. 
 
 " It is night, and there is a gipsy tent, and the brother 
 comes into the tent, and there is a Calero waiting for him, 
 and him he bribes with gold, and the Galero gives him a 
 drug, and the two men look at each other and laugh, and 
 the stranger goes away smiling, but I can see into his heart, 
 and I do not like the root from which that smile springs. 
 
 " I see the garden once again, and the little one is crowned 
 with flowers, and the female attendant who is always with 
 her has played on a mandoline, and sang a sweet song for 
 the little one ; and she rests on her knee, and the nurse pulls 
 a silver flask out of her pocket she knows not that it has 
 been drugged and she tastes it, and instantly she is 
 wrapped in a deep and death-like slumber. From behind a 
 large tree the Calero comes, and he muffles up the little one, 
 and disappears ; and in the night he strikes his tent, and is 
 away at a great distance. 
 
 " On the day after a letter comes to the parents of the lit- 
 tle one ; it bears a foreign postmark, France or Italy, I see 
 not which, and it announces the return home of the brother, 
 who has been absent for many weeks. No one suspects him 
 to be in league with the Calero to rob his brother of the 
 child who stands between himself and the estate. 
 
 "Bu*. they I see them stricken with a mighty grief; and 
 first the mother pines away. Messengers have gone into 
 all places, but no tidings of the lost one are heard. The 
 nurse is questioned ; she knows only of the death-like slum-
 
 212 EDWARD WORT LEY MONTAGU. 
 
 ber, during which her charge was stolen, or wandered, and 
 was lost. The child's hat is found on the banks of the river, 
 and this gives rise to a report of drowning, and the river 
 is searched even to the mouth of the sea, but no body is 
 discovered, nor any trace or rumor of the lost one. The 
 brother arrives from a foreign land, and he gives way to 
 loud lamentation but I look into his heart, and I can see 
 at the bottom of it the chalice of poison bubbling high, 
 and the symbol of the serpent coiling itself around in glee. 
 
 " There is an open tomb, a hearse drawn by four horses, 
 and a coffin covered with black velvet, and the mother's 
 body is brought forth and deposited in the ancestral vault. 
 She is followed by a gray and stricken man. Can this be 
 he who but within a few short years was the brave and 
 noble-looking bridegroom in the flower of life ? Alas ! it 
 is. Six months passed, and he also is borne forth in death. 
 Desolation sits upon his house. 
 
 " The brother has become the lord of the estate. The 
 Calero is departed ; he is troubled in mind lest the Calero 
 may restore her again, and blast his prospects and his 
 place. But years pass and the Calero comes not. He feels 
 contented. Suddenly he receives a letter. A new Calero 
 comes and threatens him with disgrace. He bargains with 
 him for gold to deliver up the girl. The compact is made. 
 They meet ; the meeting fails ; the Calero is in death ; the 
 usurping lord flies away in terror. I see the semblance of 
 two whom I know." 
 
 Here he stopped. But I had grown impatient. 
 
 " O venerable sage," I asked, " canst thou not give us 
 any clue to the parentage of Francesca ? She is my be- 
 trothed; she is the rightful owner of large possessions. 
 What avails all, if we know not this F" 
 
 He paused, and answered, " I cannot tell names. The 
 personages whom I see speak not audibly. I can see their 
 lips move ; I can behold their dresses and appearance ; the
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 213 
 
 localities in which they act and dwell ; but I cannot go be- 
 yond this. The castle that should be hers is a great and 
 noble baronial pile ; the park is vast, and crowned with 
 beauty. It is in England, but where, I know not. This 
 must be for thee to discover." 
 
 Then I said, " venerable sir and teacher, where now is 
 this false lord ?" 
 
 Again he meditated, and the emerald fire flashed out of 
 his eyes ; he seemed exhausted, but seeing my importunity, 
 he nerved himself to a great effort. 
 
 " I see him in a drawing-room in a great house. A fair 
 lady is reclining on a sofa ; she wears a loose robe, and on 
 her brow the crescent emblem of Diana ; she has a writing- 
 desk near her, and looks as if she had but just parted with 
 the pen. She seems to have written something that gives 
 her pleasure. There is a case of scarlet-covered books, 
 finely gilt ; there is a full-length portrait of a man in ducal 
 dress ; he wears a star and garter, and has a plumed hat in 
 his hand." 
 
 I started this was the exact description of our drawing- 
 room in Cavendish Square, and of the likeness of my ducal 
 grandfather. 
 
 " Look closer," I said, " look and see what is in one of 
 the corners of the room." 
 
 The old man looked, and said 
 
 " I see only a marble bust ; it wears the semblance of a 
 crown ; but whether gold or laurel I cannot say." 
 
 I had now no doubt it was Lady Mary's own room ; this 
 was a bust which she had brought from Vienna, having re- 
 ceived it there from one of the royal archdukes. 
 
 Akiba resumed 
 
 " The door opens, and a tall man enters deadly pale and 
 
 cadaverous, but finely dressed, with a courtly badge. It is 
 
 the brother. His crimes write themselves in his face. He 
 
 smiles, but it is a corpse-like grin. He seats himself by the 
 
 14
 
 214 BDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 lady ; he takes her by the hand ; he appears to make an 
 ardent declaration of love. She shows him what she has 
 written. He now falls on his knee before her. Shall I go 
 on ? Let me draw the curtain." 
 
 I needed no more. The usurper was then known to Lady 
 Mary intimate with her, as it would seem, beyond even 
 common friendship. Why should I not discover him ? But 
 even when I had done so, how could I prove his guilt ? 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 
 
 ABOUT this time we were visited by a noisy, swearing, 
 swaggering, roystering fellow, who called himself Dom Bal- 
 thazar, and who looked a knave and a villain, if any one of 
 that honorable and wide-spread confraternity ever did. 
 There is an old maxim that "an open countenance is a 
 letter of recommendation;" and if this be true, it may 
 fairly be concluded that from a face on which roguery is 
 written, it is the duty of honest men to fly. This piece of 
 advice, indeed, I ventured to give Manasam when first this 
 stranger who certainly did not descend from heaven 
 condescended to make one among us ; but my remonstrance 
 was wholly lost upon my friend ; and Dom Balthazar seemed 
 to have made a firm footing among the tribe almost as soon 
 as he appeared. The Zingari are generally sober and 
 temperate ; decent in discourse, and modest in recounting 
 their exploits ; but this new-comer was a swill-pot and a 
 glutton, who never seemed satisfied ; and if you were to 
 believe his own story, he had stormed every fort, succeeded 
 in eVery battle, and carried every woman, whether maid, 
 Wife, or widow, that he had ever adventured upon. If you 
 looked incredulous, or even doubtful upon any one of these
 
 EDWABD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 215 
 
 golden legends, he swore so dreadfully and twirled his 
 moustache with such an overbearing fierceness, and stamped 
 his foot, and flashed so much fire, smoke, and fa'tid vapor 
 all about, that for the sake of peace and quiet, it seemed 
 better to submit, and swallow any amount of lying and 
 braggadocio than to be dragged into a war of words or 
 blows with so redoubtable an antagonist, who would proba- 
 bly kill you first and gulp you down afterwards. I remem- 
 ber the very first visit he made to us, as well as if it were 
 only yesterday. He walked boldly up to the chief tent of 
 our encampment, whistling loudly, with a long Toledo trail- 
 ing and clanking after him, a military cloak, which had 
 seen some service, if one might judge from its stains and 
 patches, a faded feather in his hat, a pair of pistols in his 
 belt, a cigaret stuck in his mouth, and an easy, deuce-may- 
 care expression of recklessness about him which took the 
 most experienced by surprise. One of the fierce dogs 
 which usually acted as our sentinels having run out to meet 
 him, and raised a desperate howl putting forth a hand of 
 iron, the new-comer coolly seized him by the throat, and 
 dashing him against the ground, left the animal half dead ; 
 muttering all the while, " Holy Jesus ! What a savage 
 beast!" So unusual a prelude would have disconcerted 
 most persons ; but Dom Balthazar took no notice of the 
 accident, but walking up to where we all sat at supper, he 
 took his seat uninvited, stared down the company when 
 they examined him rather inquiringly, and began to eat 
 away ravenously before we had recovered from our sur- 
 prise. At length the elder of the feast, looking steadfastly 
 at him, was about to speak, when our self-invited guest, 
 anticipating his words, cried out 
 
 "Bah, Jacomo, bah! my brother, thou knowest me, and 
 I know thee. Let there be no nonsense between us," and 
 he whispered into his ear, and made him a sign at the same
 
 216 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 instant, whereat the other bent in reverence, and the new- 
 comer continued 
 
 "Hare, rabbit, pheasant, wild duck, fish in truth a 
 goodly show, and hungry I am after many a weary mile 
 and broiling day of travel and adventure. Look sharp, 
 Jacomo, and let me have of the best, and that speedily;" 
 and then, without waiting for reply, he helped himself to 
 nearly half a hare, which he flung in great mouthfuls down 
 his throat, that, like the wide-expanded gullet of Poly- 
 phemus, ever and ever gaped for more. 
 
 "Ho!" said he, "Ho! what news? what news? Any 
 bloodshed in these parts ? any forts to be attacked, or 
 garrisons to be plundered ? I have just come from Spain, 
 my brothers, where the blessed little children learn to stab 
 before they can say the Ave Maria, and the highest feather 
 in the cap is to draw the life-blood from the heart. This I 
 saw, my brothers, not a month ago on the French frontier, 
 and a fine and gallant sight, my brothers, for a brave man's 
 eyes to witness. We were a stout and bold party of con- 
 trabandistas, and as we crossed the mountains, we came up 
 with a negro and a young girl, who was a half-breed, a 
 Creole, and faith a pretty brisk and lovely damsel enough ; 
 but how she got into the company of this accursed son of 
 the accursed Ham was then wholly unknown to all of us. 
 Not like your sly, mincing maids was she ; no prim, demure, 
 perfidious prude, with eyes half veiled, who seems so modest 
 that butter won't melt in her mouth ; mild as she-cats when 
 you and the priest are looking on ; but when the charming 
 pusses are shut up alone with their spouses, or wrangling 
 with other she-cats for his favor, ye gods ! how frightfully 
 they scratch and howl, and tear, and come to fisticuffs. 
 They wear their petticoats so long, and slouch their bonnets 
 so over the face, that if a Roman could come back from hell, 
 he'd fancy they were vestals ; but quickly would he change 
 his mind, my brothers, if he saw them in their homes, when
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 217 
 
 the domino is laid aside, and the female fiend steps forth in 
 all her brimstone. But this little one looked indeed a 
 dainty morsel, and was a banquet for a prince. For her 
 eyes were full and dark, and like the purple grapes that 
 glow beneath the clustering vine-leaves; and her ringlets 
 were like the deep, violet-colored hyacinths, that curl in a 
 thousand tendrils ; and her foot ah ! my sisters, you should 
 have seen that pretty foot twinkling, glancing, like a firefly 
 under her scarlet petticoat then would the loveliest here de- 
 clare that she had never before seen in any other woman a foot 
 and ankle in perfection, and confess that except her own 
 there was nothing to be compared to it on earth." Here the 
 fellow looked at all the younger women, and winking, burst 
 into a roar of hideous laughter, which resounded through 
 the hills more like the growl of a wild beast than any human 
 utterance of satisfaction. 
 
 " Poison, my dears, poison, is not the merchandise which 
 these modest little ones buy from us ; but lace, and trinkets, 
 and a pair of earrings, or, mayhap, a set of gilded buttons 
 for their sweethearts. There are she-cats that I could name 
 in pleasant France and sunny Italy, and tawny-colored 
 Spain, that if I offer them gems or golden finery, will smirk, 
 and smile, and pout, and ask me in an undertone ' Not 
 these, good friend, but poison poison is the ware I want ;' 
 and so I sell them poisons to their hearts' and livers' con- 
 tent. If in days or weeks some faithless lover perishes, or 
 some too watchful father kicks the bucket, or some confid- 
 ing husband is borne out feet foremost to his ancestral 
 grave, followed by a weeping spouse, who holds an onion 
 to her eyes why what is that to you or me, my brothers ? 
 We do but trade ; we are not reverend confessors. Ah ! I 
 could many a tale unfold, of rich and poor, great and mean ; 
 but silent, sure, discreet am I ; faithful to his trust and all 
 his goodly customers is Dom Balthazar ; faithful also to 
 his foes, for them he follows to the death."
 
 218 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 "But ho! Jacomo, ho! let me have that rabbit! and 
 hark ye, bring forth that jar of red wine, which well I know 
 is in the innermost corner of thy tent, for thirsty am I, my 
 brother, after many a weary mile of broiling sun, of travel 
 and adventure." As the huge jar was brought forth for 
 his commands seemed to meet with ready obedience he 
 lifted it to his lips, and took a hearty draught, swallowing 
 methought a whole quart in a single gulp. Then attacking 
 the rabbit, it began to disappear in that capacious cavern 
 which had already engorged the greater part of a whole 
 hare, and still seemed void enough to contain half a dozen 
 more. 
 
 " Well, my brothers, the little girl pleased our fancy, and 
 we thought it a shame that this detested negro should be 
 her sole companion, so we cast lots who should take her 
 from him, and the lot fell on Pedro thou didst know him 
 once, Jacomo thou didst know and love him, my brother ! 
 but thou shalt never see thy friend again. Pedro glad 
 was he. He went up to the child, and with his usual gal- 
 lantry requested her to leave the negro, and take him for her 
 companion ; but the little fool began to cry, and she clung 
 to the negro, and the knave declared I could have stabbed 
 him for the lie, for was it not a lie, my brothers ? that she 
 was his master's only daughter, aud he was under solemn 
 bond and oath to take her safely to a certain convent. At 
 this we all laughed, and we cheered on Pedro, who nothing 
 loth, seized the girl in his arms. Then the negro curse on 
 him, my brothers rose up, and drawing a sharp dagger, 
 which none of us had seen, before the quickest could cry 
 hold ! he stabbed our poor friend Pedro to the heart, and 
 instead of a blooming young lass, he had only cold steel. 
 But ho 1 Jocomo, ho ! reach me that pheasant in truth it 
 seems a fat and comely bird and give me again of thy red 
 wine, for well the wine and bird agree with one who hath 
 journeyed many a weary mile, and sweltered under the
 
 BDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 219 
 
 broiling sun of travel and adventure." Thus saying, he 
 helped himself to a whole pheasant, of which he seemed to 
 swallow even the bones, for he crunched them beneath his 
 huge and boar-like tusks, making all the while the most 
 horrible grimaces ; and when the pheasant also had disap- 
 peared, he again lifted the heavy jar to his lips, and con- 
 tinued drinking until we thought he should burst. Smack- 
 ing his lips, he laid down the jar beside him, and then re- 
 sumed, " Ho ! Jacomo, ho 1 where was I in my story ? 
 Let me see, brother let me see, I pray thee. Aye, now I 
 remember our friend Pedro tumbled dead down one of the 
 precipices, and the negro looked after him and laughed, and 
 horrible it was, the sound of that accursed wretch's laugh- 
 ter. Then came I up to him, and whispered in his ear, ' My 
 friend, thou art a dead man ; thou shalt never escape hence 
 with life for this deed, for we are all like sworn brothers, 
 and are bent on thy destruction, wherefore I counsel thee to 
 blood and more blood.' When the negro heard me, great 
 indeed was his rage. And now, my brothers, hearken with 
 attention. For the negro believing well that what I said 
 was truth, and looking about him, could see no loophole 
 for escape, so he looked imploringly at the young girl, 
 and she at him, and she said, 4 O, Domingo, kill me rather,' 
 and we fearing that she would thus escape, advanced like 
 brave and gallant knights of old to her delivery ; when just 
 as we were near, this thrice-accursed black fiend plunged 
 his dagger into her side ; and when he saw that she was in- 
 deed dead, he turned upon us and charged as if ten thou- 
 sand devilkins were in his soul. Greatly did I rejoice, my 
 brothers, when I saw this ; but not much did I exult when 
 I saw my loved companions, who were wholly taken by sur- 
 prise, and had scarcely time to draw their faithful knives 
 when I say I saw them fall one by one, by his detested 
 hand ; until four more as brave and noble contrabandistas 
 as ever Spain sent forth were food for dogs and birds upon
 
 220 EDWAED WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 the hill. Now the negro seemed exhausted, when we rushed 
 upon him, and with our knives cut him into five hundred 
 pieces, and we gathered up all the dead, and made a mighty 
 pyre, and burned them there that night ; and a finer p} r re 
 was never reflected upon the snowy mountains than that 
 which we raised then and there in honor of our slain com- 
 panions. And now my brothers, did I not say truly that a 
 fine and gallant sight I saw upon the frontier ; a fine and 
 gallant sight for a brave man's eye to witness ?" 
 
 We were all silent and horror-stricken. But Dom Bal- 
 thazar did not notice our foolishness ; but again lifting the 
 jar, he drained another mighty draught, and laid it down 
 exulting in his strength. Then turning to the women, he 
 said, while he fiercely twisted his moustache 
 
 " This tale have I told, my sisters, for men, brave men ; 
 but now, beautiful ones ! hearken ye also, for I will ex- 
 pound rare wisdom, and freely give the wealth of long 
 experience. When married women ask ye for their fate be 
 sure and let the man be far removed; whisper not into 
 their souls until the sneaking cully be out of earshot. 
 Then may ye safely tell them, one and all, old and } r oung, 
 rich and poor, halt and blind, fair and frail, that they have 
 broken their nuptial promise ; and ye shall demand gold, 
 and it shall be given ye, as the price of secrecy. And 
 when their husbands come and ask their fate assure them 
 that their sainted wives love only them alone, and are 
 more pure than the snows of Ararat. 
 
 " And next ye may predict handsome children ; and be 
 most lavish in your prophecies of this kind, for they cost 
 ye nothing, and always give delight. 
 
 "Next ye may foretell a journey, soon to be undertaken; 
 a letter to be received which Avill convey pleasant tidings ; 
 and a present on the road which will be gladly welcomed. 
 So that if the silly dame shall but go to church on Sunday, 
 or gets a note containing nothing but ' how are you,' or
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 221 
 
 receives an apple or an orange from some fool as stupid as 
 herself, each and all your prophecies will be fulfilled ; and 
 you will be thenceforth regarded as sibyls in sagacity, who 
 may demand gold, and spurn silver if presented. 
 
 "But to the single, every foolish speech sounds like 
 heavenly wisdom. Tell them that a hundred youths are 
 going distracted for them ; they believe it all and go away 
 in happiness. Predict marriage marriage with the man 
 they love most let him be black if the postulant be fair; 
 if she black the husband must be fair, with blue ayes. 
 Children, happiness, love in abundance, letters breathing 
 fidelity all this is the trash for them." 
 
 All this the wretch delivered in a sing-song voice, which 
 made me loathe him. There seemed such savage cruelty 
 and mocking hate in all he spoke that a strong and fierce 
 antipathy against him burst out of my heart. I felt it like 
 volcanic fire within me. I could not and I would not con- 
 tain it. We both felt it at the same moment. We looked 
 into each other's eyes. He hated me he saw that I ab- 
 horred him. There was a murderous light in his eye, but 
 he could not well stab me unprovoked. I knew he would 
 seek his opportunity ; but relying on myself and Fate, I 
 scorned him. 
 
 " Ho, Jacomo, ho," said he, " who may this gallant be ? 
 Methinks I see not often sparks of his quality among 
 the Gitanos. One of us, you would say. Yes, I see it by 
 his well-dyed skin, and hands that show the walnut juice. 
 No, Jacomo, no, brother, he is not one of our race he is 
 not one of the true Galore whatever he may pretend, 
 or however loudly he may claim our royal blood. Black 
 his eyes and dark his hair may be, but he has the juice of 
 devils in him not the blood of the favorite of the gods. 
 But come, let us drink around. If ye are well content, why 
 so am I." Saying this he drained another draught, and 
 leered horribly at some of the younger gypsies. " Well
 
 222 EDWARD WOETLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 thou knowest, Jacomo," he continued, " that I of all men 
 living know the royal blood. I have seen it bubbling into 
 light though it was rather black and dirty blood, I own 
 but was it not of the true royal stock ? Ah ! Count Ko- 
 ningsmark, thy bones are rotting beneath the bedchamber 
 of the pretty Sophy of Halle ; but thou wert once a roaring 
 blade, only thou didst fly into the fire more heedlessly than 
 any moth that I ever knew. For when our late royal 
 master, George the First, (who is now a black raven if her 
 grace of Kendal can be believed,) was away in the wars, 
 and his young wife was at the old Elector's court, she 
 laughed at some of the frowsy queans who shared the 
 favors of that gallant old booby. But it is dangerous play- 
 ing with such edged tools as court ladies be ; they are more 
 cruel than lynxes when their passions are aroused. So 
 they filled the doting old scoundrel with all sorts of tales 
 about his pretty daughter-in-law and the gallant Swede; 
 and he was decoyed one night by a page who came with a 
 pretended message from the princess to meet him in her 
 bed-chamber ; but the little simpleton sent no such invita- 
 tion ; and when he got there, instead of a beautiful lady, 
 he found half a dozen grim Hanoverians, who stifled him 
 in five minutes, and thrust his body into a grave ready dug 
 beneath the floor. And when her valiant lord came back 
 from his campaign, the lynxes got around him and told 
 him all they pleased ; so the pretty fool was locked up for 
 life in the castle of Ahlen, where she lived on bread and water 
 for two-and-thirty years. Two-and-thirty long years she 
 lingered there, until her heart froze into ice ; a sad price 
 for a thoughtless laugh, my brothers ; a heavy penalty to 
 pay, my sisters, for the outburst of a young heart. But 
 this is the way of the world. Well, I was a soldier then 
 on business of Egypt, my brothers in the grim old 
 barrack, and was on guard outside her door just before she 
 died. So I was called in, and a purse of gold was put into
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 223 
 
 my pouch, and I saw the dying woman, and she said, 
 * Gypsy, for I know yon to be such, I once served your 
 people, and they gave me this as a token that if ever I 
 should want the aid of one I should show him this medal 
 and I could command it. Now I am in need of a trusty 
 messenger ; behold this, and if there is faith in thy people 
 swear that thou wilt obey.' And she showed me the silver 
 medal that thou wottest of, which all our tribe are bound 
 to worship. Then I kissed the medal, and I said : ' Com- 
 mand me, and I will do it with my life ;' and she looked at 
 me with a dj r ing look, and I knew that she believed my 
 oath. So she said, ' Take this letter ; give it to the King 
 of England.' And she read it thus 
 
 ***! am dying. In a few hours I shall be before God. 
 But I cite thee, George of Hanover and England, to meet 
 me before the Judgment Throne of Heaven within the 
 year ; and if thou convict not me I will convict thee. Fail 
 not, for it shall be a solemn trial, and may God adjudge 
 the guilty to eternal fire and torture. 
 
 "'SOPHIA DOROTHEA OF HALLE.' 
 
 " I took the letter from her hand and went my way ; and 
 she died in five minutes. Right glad was I to have such a 
 message to the old vagabond. Days and weeks elapsed, and 
 I was detained still on business of Egypt, and I could not 
 go away, nor knew how I could cross the seas. My oath 
 troubled me, but I knew I must fulfil it, though all the 
 strength of hell should interpose. At length I was free 
 from Ahlen, and I began my journey to England, but sud- 
 denly for I had prayed to ten thousand fiends to aid me 
 the news was brought that George was on his way to 
 Hanover ; so I struck out of my path, and met the royal 
 carriage on the road to Osnaburg, and right glad was I, for 
 now my oath would be fulfilled. And as the heavy coaoh
 
 224 EDWAKD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 lumbered along, with guards and dust and noise, and all the 
 clatter that attends these kings, I could see the old villain 
 within. So I called aloud to the coachman Halt ! and the 
 coachman was one of us and I made the sign, and he halted ; 
 and I said 4 This letter of importance is for your Majest} 7 .' 
 The king took it and frowned, for he was enraged at the 
 stoppage, and he tore it open. But the moment he read it 
 he grew black in the face and fell back ; his eyes and mouth 
 moved strangely; his hands fell down as if lifeless; his 
 tongue hung half a yard out of his mouth. I never saw so 
 pretty a sight before ; but I knew now that all was over with 
 him. He died in a few hours ; but how he stood the terrible 
 trial above, the best historians of the Kings of England 
 have not announced ; though I suppose if he were acquitted 
 we should have certainly heard." 
 
 And now I thought the wretch had done, but I was mis- 
 taken, for he suddenly pulled off his cloak, and unbuttoning 
 his jerkin disclosed a shagged black breast; and tearing the 
 lappels aside, he said 
 
 " Ho ! Jacomo, my brother, look here this wound I got 
 in the Morisco land," and he pointed to a huge scar in which 
 you might have hidden your forefinger. Then he grinned 
 at me and went on. " Thus it happed, my brothers thus 
 it came to pass, my little sisters of Egypt, pure gitanas by 
 the four sides. He and I loved the same one she was a 
 black Galore, and she favored him more than me. So I 
 watched them both one night under an old battlement, and 
 fond indeed were they, the unconscious fools. Then I stood 
 before them and laughed, and I seized her from his arms, 
 but he rushed against me, and with a great Manchegan 
 knife inflicted this wound, and I fell and they both grap- 
 pled with me, and I was well nigh death, my brothers; 
 and I thought never again shall I go forth on business of 
 Egypt, and see my brothers of the wood, and my dark- 
 eyed sisters of the forest pure Zincali of the four bloods.
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 225 
 
 But this thought gave me courage rather than despair; 
 and exerting all my strength, I suddenly flung them from me, 
 and wresting the knife out of the villain's hand, I plunged 
 it in his throat, and left the gipsy bright with her betrothed. 
 But this wound, my brothers, laid me prostrate for many a 
 long day afterwards. 
 
 " Jacomo, ho ! what, my brother, and hast thou no cheese, 
 no delicate fruits, no sweetmeats after this rough repast ? 
 Bring forth that mighty orb of Cheshire, and give thy half- 
 starved brother of the best," and strange to say Jacomo 
 brought it ; and the bravo, cutting a slice, crammed it down 
 his throat, grinning, laughing, coughing all the while, 
 until he seemed more like a demon than a human being ; 
 and I half expected to see him seize the one who sat next 
 him, and swallow him down body and bones at a single 
 gulp. For this feat, however, he was probably too full, and 
 the adventure seemed only deferred. Now for the sixth 
 time he lifted up the jar, no longer heavy as it had been, 
 but easily wielded, and containing but a small modicum for 
 so accomplished a drinker as this new friend of ours proved 
 to be. He raised it, and in a trice, we saw the bottom up- 
 turned to the skies. The whole jar had been drained to the 
 dregs the mighty stomach was at length appeased. Then 
 tossing it from him with a disdainful oath, the fellow looked 
 again at me, and said, " Thou of the true Calore I thou, a 
 son of devils. But I will soon ferret thee out ; soon will I 
 end this mumming." He shook his fist, he grinned again 
 most horribly ; he half rose up as if to strike me probably 
 he would have done so if he came near ; for no one inter- 
 fered ; all seemed awe-stricken ; but the effort was too much 
 for the swollen drunkard, and he fell helpless on the grass.
 
 226 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Ah ! those were wild days. I recall them now as one re- 
 calls the memory of some feverish dream. You are lying 
 in your bed, in the cool vesper hour ; the soft evening sun- 
 light gently streams in upon your chamber ; the breath of 
 flowers is wafted from the trellis beneath ; the sweet chirp 
 of the birds is heard, as they hop among the tree branches 
 that overshadow your bedroom window ; you raise yourself 
 up occasionally to catch a glimpse of the azure heaven out- 
 side, and you see the silver clouds travel over the blue hills, 
 or the distant sea, orange-colored in the descending sun- 
 light. You think how happy they must be who can wan- 
 der about in that open Paradise, like the birds, or sail over 
 that celestial sea, with sharply cutting keel, and bellj'ing fore- 
 sail, or mount those happy hills with gay elastic footstep. 
 You contrast your own pale, weak, nerveless limbs, with 
 those which you assign in fancy to the wanderers outside, 
 and you are unhappy. After many a hard struggle with 
 these purple thoughts, you sink into an uneasy slumber, 
 and you are a corsair battling with a desperate foe, on an 
 ensanguined ocean ; or a general urging on your wild and 
 fire-eyed followers into an opposing camp, and yourself 
 proudly bearing aloft a banner, or a sword, on which vic- 
 tory is seated ; or you are a toiling traveller mounting up 
 hill after hill, until you sigh sorely for the glorious summit, 
 which is to reveal to you some splendid glimpse of seas or 
 lands unknown, and to herald in the day which is to crown 
 your name with the splendid diadem of immortality. 
 
 Suddenly you are hurled from the midst of all these 
 bright and shining scenes into utter darkness ; you are 
 flung into the Tartarus of Hell. Now it is an iceberg bear- 
 ing down upon you, big and black with fate, and crushing 
 yourself, your galley, and your horror-stricken crew into
 
 EDWABD WOBTLEY MONTAQT7. 227 
 
 the abyss of boiling waters, while ten thousand blue sharks 
 leap upon you, and tear you into as many -pieces. Now it 
 is a thunderstorm, a very simoom that, ere you are aware, 
 folds you in its black wings, and in a moment, camp and 
 foeman disappear, and you and yours collapse into baneful 
 death, and all is silence and despair. Now it is a fierce, 
 volcanic fire that shatters the mountain; at your feet a 
 fearful crater yawns ; a crater filled with fire and poison, 
 and in an instant you are devoured with all your brilliant 
 hopes, and nothing remains but a swollen corpse upon a 
 barren mound of ashes. O reader, if thou hast felt and 
 experienced these things, know that those dreams of the 
 past are like unto them. If thou art young, as I once was, 
 be happy while you may, and strive to make the best of 
 that enchanted period ; and if thou art old, as I, alas ! now 
 am, then seek to stifle all remembrance of them, for bitterly 
 will they contrast with that which now thou dost experience. 
 Ah, me! thine eye is dim; thy hand shakes, thy limbs are 
 not the steel-cased limbs they were of yore ; thy blood is 
 cold and sluggish, and thy thoughts are dull and dreamless. 
 What remains for thee and me, but Lethe the oblivion of 
 the dark and silent stream ? For memory but enhances 
 present misery. We are like the sleeper, who dreamed he 
 dwelled in gardens, and waked and found himself on a dung- 
 heap, and was unhappy as how could he be otherwise ! 
 
 Akiba had taken a strange fancy to me. He was never 
 tired of showing me new sights, or introducing me into new 
 scenes. One evening as we were parting, he said 
 
 " Zala-Mayna, you must set out with us to-morrow. We 
 are going to Norwood to see Margaret Finch, the Gypsy 
 Queen. Our tribe have business with her." He said no 
 more, but I knew that I should go. 
 
 Early in the morning we were all astir; horses were 
 saddled ; packs were opened and filled ; the dukes, counts 
 and knights of our encampment equipped themselves in
 
 228 EDWAKD WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 t 
 
 their best attire, and we formed a brilliant cavalcade. We 
 rode hard all that day, and at night slept in a fine planta- 
 tion, more than midway; the next day saw us in the 
 midst of the Norwood camp, then the largest in England. 
 Great was the joy with which we were received. The Zin- 
 gari, young and old, gathered around us with a hearty wel- 
 come. Their tents were pitched amid the old forest trees ; 
 and beautiful was the carpet which the old forest turf 
 spread beneath their feet. Scarlet and blue cloaks flashed 
 around the green, with a picturesque effect, on which a 
 painter's eye would have lingered with rapture ; it was a 
 scene for Salvator Rosa. Had he been alive, he might 
 have left the bandits among whom, it is said, he loved to 
 sojourn, that he might study the wild and beautiful, and 
 pitched his canvas under the auspices of old Mother Finch, 
 who was herself not the least remarkable of her tribe. For 
 she was bent almost double with years ; her age, indeed, 
 was more than a hundred; and with her red cloak and 
 hood, her shining black e3'es, and aquiline nose, the deep, 
 shrewd, thoughtful, yet cunning expression of her mouth, 
 such as I have seen in some of the Indian princes, and the 
 incessant pipe which she puffed, under the shadow of a 
 venerable oak tree, she presented all the appearances of the 
 wild and picturesque, sufficient to satisfy the most fastid- 
 ious artist. 
 
 Into the secret conclave which was held, I was not, of 
 course, permitted to enter. Of our tribe, only Akiba, Man- 
 asam, and the old gypsy Jacomo, were taken into counsel ; 
 the rest seemed bent on enjoyment, and they indulged 
 themselves to the full. And quick and pleasant were the 
 hours. Robin Hood in merry Sherwood was not more 
 free, more independent, or more happy. How delightful 
 were those vagabond days and nights ! indolent as sloths 
 we seemed, but the mere sensation that we lived was in it- 
 self a rapture ; for we were all in perfect health, and when
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 229 
 
 the stomach is good, and the skin clear, when the blood 
 circulates freely, and the sun shines, what is like existence ? 
 I have lived since then in courts and drawing-rooms and 
 palaces, and tasted all that is delicious in the jewelled cups 
 of pomp and pride, but give me one hour of the past when 
 I was a boy, and a gypsy, and for such an hour would I 
 barter a whole year of fine and fashionable vegetation. 
 Young and old, we all seemed to have but one aim and 
 object, and that was happiness. We lay upon the velvet 
 sward, soft and warm in the sunlight, or under the spread- 
 ing boughs of ancient trees, which might have sheltered 
 the Druids, or the centurions of the Romans ; the younger 
 ones of the male gypsies sang and played for us, while the 
 females danced and chanted like the wild Almas of the 
 Oriental Princes. Here, as among us, but on a larger 
 scale, were seen artizans of all the trades which the Zin- 
 gari follow; tinkers, horn spoon makers, potters, besom 
 binders, net weavers, hop pickers, horse dealers, coiners, (I 
 fear,) chain and basket weavers, bird catchers, and the 
 dark eyed archimages, male and female, skilled in palm- 
 istry, and in deciphering the mystic tablets of the Future. 
 And here amid many a wild tradition, I heard first of 
 Hather, the first King, and Calot, the first Queen of the 
 English gypsies ; and of the dark, mysterious sovereign 
 Zandahlo, of whose marvels so many of their legends are 
 full. 
 
 " A great king was Zandahlo," said one of the elder 
 gypsies to us, as we sat beneath the stars ; " there are no 
 such kings now, my brother no, no ; they are all departed 
 they perished in the flood of waters. For he was tall as 
 any tree, and his eyes were bright like the star Aldebaran, 
 and his long hairs were like the spreading branches of the 
 cedars of Lebanon ; you might shield yourself from sun 
 and tempest beneath his royal shadow. But he is gone, 
 my brother, and with him sank the glory of the Galore 
 15
 
 230 EDWABD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 the true sons of the Gods of Fire. Once upon a time, long, 
 long ago, when the true Galore were the lords of the earth, 
 and King Zandahlo was the master of the world, and there 
 were no pale faces, or pale eyes among the Children of 
 Fire, then indeed it came to pass that King Zandahlo 
 walked amid his gardens his gardens that were the won- 
 der of all men. And as King Zandahlo walked amid his 
 gardens, behold he saw two Angels descend from heaven, 
 and they disported themselves in a fountain of crystal 
 waters, and the sun shone upon them, and their white 
 wings flashing more beautifully than silver in the sparkling 
 waters, dazzled the eye ; but their resplendent forms were 
 still more bright and lovely, and King Zandahlo looked 
 and fell in love with these Celestial Ones. And it came to 
 pass, brother, that King Zandahlo did accost these fair 
 spirits ; and the beauty of the King was pleasant to their 
 eyes, and they abided near the fountain, and loved King 
 Zandahlo, and told him certain magical secrets of the 
 flashing spheres of fire, and cloud, and water, such as no 
 man ever knew before, nor was any one among mankind 
 worthy that he should know them, but King Zandahlo 
 himself. And the mystic measures of the moon, and the 
 magnetic essence of the stars, and the chain of sympathy 
 that runs through all existences, and the force of the 
 Monad, the Duad, the Triad, and the Tetractys; all these 
 the heavenly ones revealed to our noble King Zandahlo. 
 
 " It came to pass that on a certain night, when all the 
 purple arch was burnished with stars, and the heaven 
 seemed one shining mass of burning fires, as if all the 
 angels were assembling before the Throne of the Unnamed 
 One, King Zandahlo also was in his garden, and he heark- 
 ened to mystic secrets of the fair spirits. He said unto 
 them, ' O spirits, will ye not uplift me into heaven, that I 
 may see some of these things ?' But the spirits answered, 
 'Nay, it is forbidden!' King Zandahlo besought them, and
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 231 
 
 yet again besought them, but they would not. They strove 
 to comfort him, but King Zandahlo would not be comforted, 
 but still he looked upward into the blue and beaming arch, 
 and he entreated them, l spirits, will ye not uplift me 
 unto heaven, that I may see some of these things?' And 
 the spirits wept, but they would not ; so King Zandahlo 
 rose up in rage, and he cried out, ' Begone, deceitful spirits ! 
 begone ! nor trouble me any longer. Behold, ye are of the 
 tribe of the faithless ones.' The spirits wept; but they left 
 King Zandahlo, though they often looked back upon him 
 as they faded away. It was deep night, and King Zandahlo 
 was alone, and he was sore grieved in his spirit, and he 
 had repented him of what he had done ; and he called unto 
 the spirits to comfort him, but they came not. It was now 
 dark midnight, and he still lingered by the fountain, and 
 was unhappy. And he heard a voice saying, ' King, 
 why art thou unhappy ?' King Zandahlo turned him to- 
 wards the place from which the voice came, and behold he 
 saw a Spirit shining also like the fair spirits in outer sem- 
 blance ; but he marked not the dark drao in his deep eyes, 
 nor the snake that was hidden in his tongue. Neither did 
 he note that the voice of this Spirit was sharp, harsh, and 
 hollow unlike the melodious voices in which the fair 
 spirits spake. So King Zandahlo told the Spirit why he 
 was unhappy, and he said unto him, ' Thou, Spirit, canst 
 thou uplift me into Heaven, that I may see some of these 
 things?' And the Spirit answered, 'This will I do for 
 thee, King.' And he raised him in his arms, and he 
 bare him aloft into a splendid place and it seemed a palace 
 of the finest art, and King Zandahlo looked upon the pal- 
 ace, and he said unto his heart, ' Never knew I any thing 
 until this day.' And when the Spirit had shown him the 
 palace, ho took him into the gardens of the palace, and 
 pointed out to him the manifold appearances of beauty. 
 King Zandahlo again said, ' Never knew I any thing until
 
 232 EDWARD WORTLEY MOXTAGU. 
 
 this day.' The Spirit brought him back into his own pal- 
 ace, and left him. King Zandahlo was unhappy because 
 he could not own that mighty palace and those splendid 
 gardens. He grew thin and refused food, and was well 
 nigh come unto death. And the Spirit came unto him and 
 said, ' Rise up ! be bold and strong, and make thy people 
 build for thee a palace like unto that palace, and gardens 
 like unto those gardens.' King Zandahlo rose up, as the 
 Spirit had commanded him, and he sent forth his edicts, 
 and he summoned all his people, and compelled all his 
 artificers to come in and build a new palace and new gar- 
 dens. When they were completed, and a million men had 
 perished, the sea broke in and swept them all away in one 
 night, and in their mire was King Zandahlo buried. And 
 over the deluge of waters there was seen a dark spirit 
 brooding, and the spirit cried aloud before all the people, 
 'This is the reward of folly and discontent. Zaudahlo 
 might have been the happiest of men had he not emulated 
 the Palace of the Gods ; and lo, where is he?' " 
 
 A week thus passed a pleasant week of free agrestic 
 sports. I might have easily attached myself to one of the 
 franksome young gypsies who were about me, and who put 
 forth many a lure, but my heart was unalterably wedded 
 to Francesca ; and I looked upon the glittering bevy of 
 dark-eyed singers and dancers with no more passion than 
 I should have gazed upon a picture by the hand of Rubens. 
 At the end of this period Dom Balthazar appeared, greatly 
 to my disgust and disappointment. I could not imagine 
 what had brought the fellow hither, but he boldly entered 
 the Queen's presence, and whenever he pleased went into 
 her tent, as if he were a privileged person, and indeed he 
 was so without any question. He seemed well known to 
 all the noisy crowd, and he strutted and swaggered among 
 them like a cock upon a dunghill, just as he had done 
 among our quiet little community in Sussex, being ever the
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 233 
 
 loudest, noisiest, and most gluttonous. Akiba and Mana- 
 sam did not much associate with him ; there was an utter 
 disparity in their tastes and habits ; and the years of the 
 elder man made him as indisposed to mingle in such rude 
 revelry, as always followed wherever Dom Balthazar was 
 present, as the silent student habits of Manasam kept him 
 aloof from the bacchanalian roystering in which our new 
 companion delighted to indulge. But Dom Balthazar 
 heeded, or appeared not to heed in the least, the feelings 
 of either. He followed his own course as if no such person 
 existed, and set the whole assembly in a bacchanalian mood. 
 Before he came, we were like peaceful foresters, disporting 
 in holiday after some long-continued labor; our amuse- 
 ments were simple and rustic ; we pleased ourselves with 
 country sports and country sobriety ; but Dom Balthazar 
 turned all things topsy turvy. Midnight excursions were 
 made into many a choice preserve ; and at the dawn he re- 
 turned with his wearied followers laden with spoil hares, 
 rabbits, pheasants, fawns, peacocks, salmon, swans, and 
 even herons. Then the fires were lighted, fresh casks or 
 jars were broached, and tipsy jollity and feasting followed, 
 worthy of a city banquet or an election dinner. 
 
 Perhaps these revels were more in accordance with the 
 rude nature of the gypsies themselves, than the more staid 
 and sober pleasures in which we had previously sought 
 and found content. At all events I have always observed 
 that men generally will find amusement in simple sports, 
 and unless some incident intervenes to arrest them, will go 
 on to the end as they began. But let some knavish, disso- 
 lute scoundrel interpose, and by word or example lead 
 them into other and worse enjoyments; let him propose 
 something desperately foolish, wild, or wicked, and there 
 is such a contagion in vice that it will suddenly seize every 
 one of them, as if by a spell of magic ; and they who five 
 minutes since played with all the simple zest of boys, will
 
 234 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 suddenly rage as if impelled by the fiery nature of demons. 
 There is a natural devil-may-care spirit about multitudes 
 which drives them in a m ment into the wildest and most 
 unthought of excesses ; and I have often felt convinced that 
 no men were more astonished at themselves next morning 
 than those who have figured prominently in history, in 
 outbreaks that have had the greatest influence on times 
 and empires. Thus has it ever been, and thus I suppose 
 it ever will be. A single word applied at the fitting mo- 
 ment, like a spark of gunpowder, will produce an explosion, 
 with whose echo the world will ring until the aniials of the 
 world be no more. 
 
 Nor was our little kingdom exempt from this feeling. 
 Dom Balthazar, as I have before hinted, delighted in vi- 
 ciousness for its own sake ; his example stirred up others ; 
 and as there were many among us who I have no doubt 
 deserved death a hundred times, if such could be inflicted, 
 men and women were now found to boast of exploits, and 
 give revelations of their inner life which they would not 
 have dared to confess a few days before ; and which if they 
 had been confessed, would have been heard with a feeling 
 very different from that which now awaited them. 
 
 " Ho, ho ! Meg Finch," he cried, " ho ho I Meg, my 
 Queen, my beaut}', my bright and splendid star of Venus, 
 verily thou hast a goodly crew of men and women ; and 
 some I think would take the devil by the horns, nor would 
 my pretty lasses fear to catch him by the tail ; but brave 
 and gallant though they be, they equal not in gorgeous 
 devilry the fine Galore of Granada and its mountains, 
 whom I left some moons ago, and whom I hope speedily to 
 meet again. One fellow have we among us by heaven he 
 is a trump card, and I would not give his little finger for 
 the souls or bodies of all the kings, queens, and popes 
 (male or female) in Christendom. Why what think ye he 
 did ? fill ye bumpers to his health, my brothers, and then
 
 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 235 
 
 ye shall hear fill ye purple bumpers to his welfare, ray 
 sisters, and then shall your ears be gladdened by tidings 
 of a brave and gallant man. He was a monk uay, shrink 
 not for though in cowl and cassock, and with a shaven 
 pate, a true son of Egypt was he no truer lives in whom 
 the red blood does roll. From, the hill he came but my 
 lord abbot knew it not, so he was enrolled a monk ; and 
 would, had he lived, been prior and perhaps cardinal, if not 
 Holy Father of the Faithful; but the monks offended him, 
 and as he had the molten, fiery blood of all the true Galore, 
 he answered roundly, and gave the lazy scoundrels tit for 
 tat. Tit for tat is not in convent laws ; so they shut him 
 up in a cell, and exhorted him to patience, and let him fast 
 on dry bread and cold water for three weary months, until 
 my brother was well nigh dead. Well, at the end of that 
 time he vowed repentance, and confessed his sins, and was 
 released ; and when the next feast was held,* he prayed hard 
 to be allowed to serve the wine to all his kind, good, par- 
 doning brethren. So the holy men consented, and my 
 brother fetched the wine from the cellars in many a brim- 
 ming flagon; and when the morning stars arose in heaven, 
 there were forty monks lying dead beneath the festal table, 
 and the goodly abbot at their head. The matter was in- 
 quired into, and my brother wept indeed in true sorrow for 
 the departure of all his pious comrades; and when the 
 hogshead was examined behold a viper of the most poison- 
 ous quality was found in the bottom of the cask, dead and 
 swollen ; but how it entered no man ever knew So my 
 brother was acquitted from all blame; but he soon after 
 joined our sacred band, for he had heard that the Holy 
 Inquisitors liked not much the manner of his acquittal, 
 and were preparing for him a charge of heresy, which 
 would have ravished him from us forever. So he fled to 
 us, and now he is one of our firmest, fastest friends ; and 
 he often laughs when he recounts the story of the forty
 
 236 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 dead and swollen rats I mean monks on the marble 
 pavement ; and he bids them God-speed, and he drains his 
 flagon to their memory. So now, my brothers, and ye 
 also, my sisters dear, a bumper, a bumper, and yet another 
 flowing bumper to the health of the ex-monk of Cordova. 
 
 My brother -went Into the wood, 
 His heart athirst for monkish blood ; 
 
 My brother sought a viper's nest 
 He hid the viper in his breast. 
 
 He charmed the pretty poisoned elf 
 By secrets known best to himself; 
 
 He put the viper in the cask, 
 
 And grinned beneath his pious mask. 
 
 'Ho, ho,' quoth he, 'these knaves shall find 
 That gypsy skill their eyes shall blind.' 
 
 They drunk the viper wine, and woke 
 In fire of hell when morning broke." 
 
 Whether there were any internal shudders at this recital 
 I cannot say ; I only know there would have been a week 
 before; but Dom Balthazar seemed to magnetize all by his 
 own evil nature. And after a pause he continued 
 
 " And now, my brothers, hearken ye unto me, and I will 
 reveal the Ten Commandments of Gypsydom, which whoso 
 folio weth he shall grow rich and happy ; but he who fol- 
 loweth them not shall be as a church mouse lean, scraggy, 
 and a coward. 
 
 " First All charity is humbug and pretence. No man 
 would give a farthing to another did he not hope to gain 
 something for himself by it ; but the great source of the 
 thing is to be found in the vaingloriousness of men and 
 women who love to appear better than they really are. 
 Wherefore, when thou beggest an alms, always seek it where 
 two or three are gathered together, for shame or vanity 
 will get thee something. 
 
 " Second It is in vain to ask a charity from a wedded 
 pair, for they know each other too well the humbug mask
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 237 
 
 is off, and so they will give you nothing ; but from a poor 
 man sneaking attendance on a rich one, seek it, or from a 
 lover, dangling, like a hungry dog, after his mistress. For 
 these suitors always love to appear other than they really 
 are ; and they who would not give thee a maravedi to save 
 thy soul from damnation, will give it that they may get a 
 smile from the patron, or a kiss from the flirting quean. 
 
 " Third If there be any man of good estate in the neigh- 
 borhood who hath lost a favorite child, go to him, attired 
 in robes of woe, and tell him as if thou wert ignorant of 
 his misfortune that thou hast lost a blind boy or girl, and 
 make the resemblance of thy fancied loss as like to his as 
 possible. Then with many a sigh and tear, and supplica- 
 tion, cant to the feeling booby, until he melts and well 
 rewards thee for thy pains. 
 
 " Fourth If any tender fool hath a husband sick, accost 
 her as she walks the streets, and say thou prayest hard for 
 his recovery, and add that Heaven hearkeneth to the poor 
 man's prayer ; but if the wife be very young and the hus- 
 band very old, pretend not that thou knowest of my lord's 
 illness, but say to her ' God grant thee, beauteous lady, a 
 young and bouncing husband.' 
 
 " Fifth But if the husband dies, then let your wife or 
 sister go unto the widowed dame, and, dressed in sable 
 weeds, recount a loss which she herself has first ex- 
 perienced, pretending that a husband has been snatched 
 from her by untimely death, and weeping hard until the 
 rich one sighs in sympathy, and gives thee of her purse, 
 without at all considering whether thy tale be true or not. 
 
 " Sixth But most of all rely on wives or widows with 
 small children ; for if thou goest unto these with a pitiful 
 tale of thine own seven starving babes, without food or 
 raiment, or a roof, never yet knew I the one who could 
 resist, or who did not weep in heart over the dismal fate of 
 those helpless ones.
 
 238 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " Seventh The dandy loves to hear his person praised ; 
 the dainty dame to hear her eyes and fair complexion ex- 
 tolled ; the strutting mamma is pleased to learn that no 
 one's children equal hers in beauty ; the military monkey 
 thinks himself a Charles XII., and 'noble captain' will 
 draw forth his purse, particularly if thou celebratest his 
 bravery in the presence of some woman just as brainless 
 as himself ; and so the priest is glad when thou speakest of 
 his piety ; but I hardly counsel thee to beg of such, for they 
 dread to part with even a half-farthing. 
 
 " Eighth If a pretty woman pass thee by and looks 
 dejected, be sure her husband or her lover is unkind, and 
 soap thy tongue accordingly. 
 
 "Ninth The ugliest woman thinks herself a beauty, un- 
 less she has a large and broad forehead, and then mayhap 
 she despises outward charms ; but in mind she thinks her- 
 self a Plato or a Dante, and therefore praise her as thou 
 wilt, she never will be satisfied with the feast. 
 
 " Tenth But this, the tenth commandment, is the crown- 
 ing one. If ever thou seest a tender husband with a preg- 
 nant wife, take with thee one who is blind or halt, and 
 press him with thy prayers for alms. Fear will extort 
 them amply ; and thou and thy companion shall exult at 
 having terrified the fool out of gold or silver." 
 
 Let me drop this hateful fellow ; I cannot bear to think 
 of him. I only lament there should be so many of his 
 odious type on earth. 
 
 Another week passed, and we had completed the pur- 
 pose for which we came. Akiba, Giacomo, and Manasam 
 gave the word, and all was ready for departure. We had 
 a glorious parting feast by moonlight ; the stars were also 
 in the heaven, and we needed not lamp or watch-fire, for it 
 was in the delicious month of August, when all is balm and 
 beautifulness. 
 
 "My brothers," said Akiba, "I go from among you.
 
 BDW.AED WOBTLEY MONTAOU. 239 
 
 Never again shall we meet on earth. My sands of life are 
 nearly run ; I and your Queen are the two oldest of the 
 tribes that now exist in England. We cannot hope that 
 we shall look into each other's eyes after this night ; but 
 such is the way of human beings. Let me exhort each 
 and all to be true as steel to their native tents and to one 
 another thus only can they prevail against the common 
 enemy." 
 
 " Thou speakest wisely, O Bazecgur," answered one of 
 the most aged and venerable of the Norwood companions. 
 " Hearken unto it, my brothers ; hearken, and be ad- 
 vised." 
 
 "Nevertheless," continued Akiba, "though we shall 
 never meet again on earth, there is another land of life 
 where we may all assemble ; thither shall the true Galore, 
 the Sons of Fire, the beloved of the Gods, go, and joyful 
 shall be their union under one tent. For what says Ku- 
 bcer ? Verily his words are pearls of great price. ' The 
 spirit that is in man dieth not ; it is a spirit of life and 
 love, it shall exist in another form, and in a different orb.' 
 They who know us not, say that we are infidels as to a 
 future being ; that we have neither gods nor demons. But 
 ye, my brothers, know better : ye are all persuaded that 
 ye shall not perish like the beasts of the field, but that ye 
 shall survive, and be whatever ye have deserved to be. Be 
 ye, therefore, true and faithful to one another in all right 
 things unto the end. So shall ye prosper and rejoice." 
 
 After this we struck our tents, and departed.
 
 240 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 ONE day as Manasain and myself were out fishing, our 
 conversation turned upon the past, and from those learned 
 stores which he possessed he displayed an amount of vast 
 and varied knowledge, greater than he had ever yet shown 
 me. He was in sooth a man of wonderful accomplishments, 
 and to me it was then matter of surprise to find such a one 
 leading a vagrant life with gypsies ; but of such incidents 
 I have since found life is full, and nothing amazes me now. 
 He knew seven or eight languages, which he spoke per- 
 fectly ; he had read also, and mastered a great number of 
 books, and he was not destitute of eloquence ; he was at 
 all times witty, wise and moral. He was fond of meta- 
 physical speculation, and infused into my mind the primary 
 seeds of many an odd notion, which I have since made my 
 own, and which have put forth strange blossoms, and still 
 stranger fruit. For age, he was about eight-and-twenty ; 
 his appearance was dark, but noble ; there was a haughty 
 flash in his eye, which only occasionally shone out, but 
 when it did it told a tale of fiery and romantic passion. I 
 had attached myself to him. with so much boyish trust, and 
 he saw that my liking was so genuine and unfeigned, that 
 he reciprocated my regard with the sincerest friendship, 
 and I loved him with more than fraternal fondness. He 
 delighted in softening that fierce pride and unsocial temper 
 which from the first were mine ; and humanizing me, not 
 so much by counsel which seldom succeeds as by ex- 
 ample, which almost always vanquishes. 
 
 " Manasam," I said, " how comes it to pass that you live 
 with my brothers of Egypt ? You are not of them." 
 
 " I scarcely know," he answered, " but the Zingari reject 
 no one, and I feel a vague sort of happiness among them,
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 241 
 
 such as I cannot describe, but which contents me more 
 than any thing in my former life." 
 
 "And what may your former life have been, Man- 
 asam ?" 
 
 " Well, it is not remarkable for any telling incidents, but 
 if you would like to hear it you shall. My father was a 
 gentleman of large fortune in one of the western counties ; 
 he had two sons ; I am the second. Our home was an 
 ancient mansion that had been in our family for centuries, 
 and we possessed all that heart could desire. Thus time 
 flowed pleasantly on until my sixteenth year, when I was 
 to be sent to Oxford. I had a little cousin, a sweet, inno- 
 cent girl,jvhose father and mother dying early, had left 
 her to the guardianship of my father, and she lived with 
 us. As her fortune when she came of age would be con- 
 siderable, my father was not disinclined to secure it if he 
 could, so he placed her with us, and she was our playmate 
 in all youthful pranks. I soon noticed that she was par- 
 ticularly fond of me ; and I suppose I let her and others 
 see that I was not insensible of it ; for one day my father 
 called me into the library and spoke thus : 
 
 " ' George, you must go to Oxford in a day or two. It 
 will not do for you to remain here making love to Sophy. 
 She is to be your brother's wife, so you had better put 
 away all nonsense out of your head.' 
 
 " ' But, sir,' I said, ' is it not enough for Will to have the 
 estate? He is my eldest brother, and I don't grumble 
 about that. Why should he have my cousin ?' 
 
 " ' My dear George,' he replied, ' the estate is mortgaged 
 so heavily that unless your cousin's money redeems it, 
 there will be no estate at all, and we must all turn out and 
 seek our fortune as we can.' 
 
 " I bowed and was silent. What could I say ? I had no 
 doubt it was true, and I supposed all was for the best 
 16
 
 242 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 That evening I strolled into the old park. It looked beau- 
 tiful. There was not an ancient mossgrown tree that I did 
 not love as an old friend. ' Yes,' I said, ' I will sacrifice 
 myself; this noble old place shall never pass to strangers 
 if I can help it. How are Sophy's feelings ? Is she also 
 to be sacrificed ? Yet will it be a sacrifice ? My brother 
 is a finer and bigger fellow than I am. Perhaps she will 
 love him in time, and all will go well.' While I mused in 
 this way I saw her in one of the distant walks. How sweet, 
 how beautiful, how innocent she looked ! She was twining 
 some wild flowers about her little straw hat, and singing 
 merrily all the while. She does not know that I am leaving 
 her, I thought. Alas ! she will be sorry when she does. I 
 went to meet her, and as gently as I could told her I was 
 going in a day or two. She struggled hard with her feel- 
 ings, but she fainted in my arms. 
 
 "I went to Oxford and remained there four years. I 
 was then, for the first time since my departure, invited 
 home. My cousin had grown into a beautiful young 
 woman. The moment I saw her I knew that she loved me 
 still. She had been betrothed to my brother during my 
 absence, and I suppose she had not thought very seriously 
 about the matter, or about poor absent George, but when 
 she saw me it was evident that she felt for the first time 
 the ordeal through which she must pass. My father did 
 not notice, or if he did he affected not to do so. However, 
 he took care that we should have no interview, for he stuck 
 close to me all the while I was there, and in a week he sent 
 me on the Grand Tour. My allowance was liberal, but I 
 would rather have stayed at home ; this, however, was not 
 to be, so I went: I did all I could to have but one short 
 private meeting with my cousin ; but every device failed, 
 and I was obliged to leave without unburthening my soul 
 of its secret passionate love. For I did indeed love her, 
 with all the intense feeling of a man, and I struggled hard
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 243 
 
 with all my emotions in her presence. My father's grave 
 look/however, awed me, and I departed. ' George,' he said, 
 ' your cousin is dead to you ; she is your brother's affianced 
 bride. It would be dishonorable in the extreme, if even by 
 a look you made that faith to waver which now belongs to 
 another. I have brought you up as a gentleman and man 
 of honor. Remember the obligations which these sacred 
 words impose, and be worthy of them.' So I went my way. 
 " Three years passed, during which I heard only from 
 my father, and he wrote about every thing but her of whom 
 I longed most to hear. One day I was at Milan admiring 
 the beauty of that famous capital. I had sauntered from 
 gallery to gallery, from palace to palace, but I could not 
 rest. I was wretched and most unhappy. I strolled into 
 the open country ; then a strange feeling came over me, 
 and I fell into a species of reverie, in which I thought I 
 could see what was actually going on at that instant. Have 
 you ever had this feeling ? If not, you cannot understand 
 me. I walked along, but I saw nothing of the things be- 
 fore me. I was in England; I was in my father's house. 
 I went into the old parish church; I saw her stand in 
 bridal veil beside the altar ; I heard her utter irrevocable 
 vows. I was in a magnetic stupor, but every thing passed 
 vividly, not before my eye indeed, but in my mind within. 
 I felt the holy magic of her presence, yet I knew that seas 
 and lands divided us ; I could perceive the divine effluence 
 that seemed to flow from her being into mine ; yet I knew 
 that we were separated by thousands of miles. It was not 
 a dream, it was not a vision, it was not a jealous man's 
 ideal torture ; but it was the strong conviction of my soul 
 that at that moment her nuptials were being celebrated ; 
 that our hearts were one though far apart ; that her soul 
 was blended into mine, as mine appeared to be with hers ; 
 and that she was probably experiencing the very same sort 
 of sensation herself, and though corporeally present in the
 
 244 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 church, yet was she spiritually far away in some old Italian 
 haunt with him she loved. 
 
 " Three months passed, and still I heard no tidings from 
 England. I was at Naples one night, at the theatre ; the 
 play had already begun, and I was rapt in the scene. 
 Suddenly I heard a door open the door of a distant box, 
 and I heard it close again. By heaven, I said, it is she 
 my cousin is in the theatre. My heart knew it at once ; 
 a magnetic, fiery thrill ran through it. It came from her 
 and entered into me. I dared not look around, for I dreaded 
 to see her with her husband. My heart was swollen and 
 almost bursting. At last I could bear it no longer. I 
 turned my eyes from the stage, and cast them backwards 
 towards one of the central boxes. She was there. My 
 brother Will was with her. How beautiful she looked! 
 She outshone the princesses of the land ; but not like them 
 was she arrayed in costly pearls. She was dressed simply 
 in a white robe. How I loved to look upon her ! Yet the 
 sight made me unhappy. There she was, hopelessly lost to 
 me the property of another ; so young, so beautiful, so 
 heavenly good, and lost to me forever. I retired into the 
 further corner of my box and contemplated her face. Her 
 ej'e was restless ; she seemed to me not happy. Methought 
 her mind was far away. She looked about in various 
 quarters, eagerly, as if hoping to see some one; but re- 
 curred again to the stage, and ever with a disappointed 
 expression. At length I mustered courage to approach 
 her. She was agitated for a moment she grew deadly pale 
 but it passed off, and our greetings were cordial. My 
 brother was, as usual, good humored, and he manifested no 
 jealousy. 
 
 " I stayed with them a month. One night as I wandered 
 by that glorious bay, and sent my thoughts aloft among the 
 moon and stars, then shining splendidly in that intensely 
 azure arch, I perceived that I was followed. The figure was
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 245 
 
 muffled. I was not afraid of the stiletto, for I had injured no 
 man ; but I tlio ught it well to be on my guard. I stood beside 
 a fallen column, and still gazed aloft, occasionally looking at 
 the distant figure ; it came nearer and was at length beside 
 me. The dark hood was then thrown aside ; the stars of 
 heaven then shone upon that heavenly face it was my 
 cousin, my first, my last, my only love on earth alas ! my 
 brother's wife. Upon no fairer, sweeter face or form did 
 that moon ever shine, since God commanded it to take its 
 place in the firmament, and to give brightness to the sons 
 of men. 
 
 " ' George,' she said, ' I have followed you here this night, 
 for the first and last time, becaxise I see that you have 
 shunned me since we have met ; and I can bear this silence 
 no longer. Why am I your brother's wife ? Why have 
 you forgotten me ?' 
 
 " I groaned aloud, but could not answer. 
 
 " ' They told me that you were married,' she resumed, 
 ' married to an Italian lady ; and now I find that I was de- 
 ceived. Until this falsehood had been urged, I still refused 
 to name a day for my marriage ; after that I resisted no 
 longer. Why should I ? He alone whom I loved was 
 another's, and I should never again see him. George, can 
 you forgive me ?' 
 
 " I flung myself at her feet. 
 
 " * Oh ! spare me,' I cried. 
 
 " * Yes, you do forgive me, my cousin ; but I can never 
 forgive myself. Your brother I accuse him not. He is 
 my husband but only in name. I have tried to love him ; 
 but I cannot. My heart is broken in the struggle. Yet a 
 little while and it will beat no more. But while it does, it 
 beats only for you. Tell me tell me once before we part 
 forever, that you love me still.' 
 
 " My tears answered for me tears of blood from my 
 heart. 
 
 16
 
 246 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " ' Sophy,' I said, ' I love you more than God.' I 
 could say no more. 
 
 " ' Now,' she said, ' I am content. We part forever. 
 Kiss me, dear, dearest George ; obey my command. Go 
 and never let us meet again, until we meet in heaven above, 
 and shall be no more separated by deceit.' 
 
 " I obeyed her. I was passive as a bird in her hands. 
 I pressed her to my heart beside that silver sea, and then I 
 tore myself away. I never again saw her living, but I have 
 wept for nights over the cold grave at M , where she 
 sleeps her final sleep. She died in three months, but my 
 brother soon forgot her, and consoled himself with another 
 wealthy bride. I followed her coffin home to England in 
 disguise. I watched it until it was conveyed to earth ; then 
 I knew that I was alone and woe-stricken forever; and 
 I cursed my fate, and lifted up my tongue even against 
 God. I became like Cain, a vagabond and a wanderer. I 
 could not bear a settled home ; I shunned the daylight ; I 
 loathed to look upon the sun. At night only I roamed 
 abroad and fed my soul on melancholy meditation. In the 
 course of these midnight rambles I found myself in a gypsy 
 encampment in a distant county. I had money now in 
 abundance, for our fortunes were now secured, and my 
 father atoned to me as far as he could for the one great 
 wrong by giving me an ample income. I shared it with 
 these wild people, and became one of themselves. I con- 
 cealed my name, and was adopted into their community, 
 receiving the surname which I now bear. From them, after 
 a stay of two or three years, I came among these attracted 
 hither by Akiba, with whom I had formed an acquaintance 
 among my first gypsy friends ; but who left them for some 
 reason and persuaded me to accompany him. Since then 
 we have lived like brothers, and in his company I have for- 
 gotten or have striven to forget the Past. He has taught 
 me many things more indeed than all the books I ever
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 read have taught ; and I believe his friendship for me is 
 sincere. That we both regard you, I need not say, and 
 since you have made us acquainted with your story, our re- 
 gard has increased. But you must not abide with us much 
 longer. It is a species of deception. You must not do it. 
 Besides, you are but beginning life, and you have fair pros- 
 pects. I, on the contrary, am an old and broken-hearted 
 man. When you have been tried like me, then you may se- 
 clude yourself forever from the busy world but not till 
 then. Meanwhile, rely implicitly on us, and prepare to 
 remove Francesca, for in this place is no longer a safe 
 abiding for her. This is the counsel of your friend, who, 
 when he loses you, will lose a part of himself; but who 
 would not be your friend if he counselled otherwise." 
 
 I strove to dissuade Manasam from this view of my 
 affairs, but in vain. He and the Indian it seemed had 
 talked them over, and they had both decided that I must 
 depart soon. Money, as much as I required, was to be at 
 my disposal, and every thing that friendly wisdom could 
 suggest was prepared for my departure but as to the de- 
 parture itself they were inflexible. I was scarcely pleased 
 with this symbol of their friendship ; but where I could 
 not win, I had learned not to murmur, and I hoped to gain 
 time, and trusted to the chapter of accidents. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DOM BALTHAZAR had now abided with us nearty three 
 months. During the whole of this period, with the excep- 
 tion, perhaps, of the first week I passed at Norwood, I felt 
 uneasy, restless, agitated by a dim uncertain fear of an im- 
 pending danger. Wherever I went his eye was upon me.
 
 248 EDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 
 
 He seemed to watch my every movement. I could have no 
 interview with Francesca, nor was it possible for me to 
 have. Manasam was gone away to a distant part of the 
 country; Akiba was laid up with illness; the journey to 
 Norwood having proved too much for one of his advanced 
 years. Every thing seemed to conspire against me. I knew 
 not what was the matter yet was I sure that something 
 evil was lowering above my head. Meanwhile Dom Bal- 
 thazar was swaggering about in his usual style ; he did not 
 seek to come into any open collision with me. We both 
 shunned each other as if by mutual consent yet were both 
 perpetually thrown together and clashing in some odd, un- 
 accountable way, that between friends would have been 
 awkward, but between sworn enemies like us was particu- 
 larly disagreeable. There was a mocking sneer about his 
 lip whenever he saw me. What could I do? He could 
 have crushed me like a bird or a smelt, within his iron 
 grasp his thews and muscles were like cords of steel, and 
 his resolution was equal to his strength. 
 
 He seemed to have no occupation. He lived among the 
 tribe like an independent nobleman. He had plenty of 
 gold, which he exhibited with a careless improvidence ; he 
 had but to put his hand in his pocket, and it immediately 
 appeared laden with guineas. These he distributed fre -ly 
 among the Gitanos as freely, indeed, as if his resources 
 were inexhaustible. Yet it was not this lavish profusion 
 so much as some mysterious influence about him, which 
 seemed to consolidate his power. Despite his roughness, 
 blasphemy, contempt of all things sacred and divine ; his 
 mockery of the women, and his assumption that they were 
 all detestable, and the audacious arrogance with which he 
 recounted his own personal admixture among the most de- 
 grading And infamous exploits, all of which would have 
 been quite enough to destroy any ordinary adventurer, and 
 certainly tended to make him odious to all the gypsies,
 
 EDWARD WOKTLET MONTAGU. 249 
 
 there was an indefinable something about him which spoke 
 of force, and the consciousness of an importance among 
 his people which produced its effect upon the mind ; and 
 the Queen herself and her chief councillors acknowledged 
 his sway, or, at all events, did not disdain to play a sub- 
 ordinate part while he was present. He issued commands 
 and they were obeyed ; he advised measures and they were 
 adopted ; he prescribed routes and they were followed ; he 
 organized expeditions and they were carried out. In a 
 word he seemed suddenly to have usurped the part of a 
 prime minister, nor was his adoption of the character dis- 
 puted or denied. 
 
 All this was particularly odious to me. I knew the 
 frailty of my hold on these people ; my tenure in fact de- 
 pended more on their caprice than on any other basis. I 
 had now lived for two years with them, during which I had 
 certainly made many friends, but the Calero character is 
 fickle in the extreme ; the revolutions of a second overset 
 it from its whole foundation. Indians in descent, they have 
 all the qualities of that mercurial race ; easily impressible 
 by the fancy of the moment, they will be ready to die for 
 you to day, and destroy you to-morrow, just as you happen 
 to appear to their excitable imaginations. I was well 
 aware that I had done nothing for these people in return 
 for the amount of hospitable kindness which the3 r had shown 
 to me ; they had fed and clothed me for a long time ; nor 
 did there seem to be the remotest possibility that I should 
 be ever able to remunerate them. They had sheltered me 
 when I was a houseless wanderer. All fealty was due to 
 me from them. I was conscious of the most ardent desire 
 to prove my gratitude and display my loyalty ; but what 
 availed the gratitude and loyalty of a stripling of seventeen, 
 if either or both were to be balanced against the strength 
 of gold, or the mysterious influence of a man like Dom 
 Balthazar, who evidently had immense resources at his
 
 250 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 command, had a profound and horrible antipathy to my- 
 self, and was by no means likely to falter in gratifying it 
 by any scruples of conscience or suggestions of fear ? 
 
 But whence originated this fiery hate which it was now 
 obvious raged in both our hearts ? This, reader, is one 
 of the mysteries of mankind which never have been and 
 never can be solved, unless by the doctrine of our pre-ex- 
 istence in some former condition of being, before we breathed 
 the air of earth. For how else can that dread hostility 
 which at the first view exists between two men arise and 
 be explained, except on the supposition that they were 
 deadly foes in some other sphere of existence ? I go into 
 a theati-e or drawing-room, whose carpet I have never 
 crossed until this night ; I see a man or woman there whom 
 I never saw before, to the best of my belief. We look on 
 each other, and vivid hate is seen in the eyes of each ; a 
 cold chill creeps over the frame; some nerve within the 
 heart seems to quiver; a nameless weight and oppression, 
 a feeling of disgust, or fear, or antipathy, arises between 
 us ; each views the other with scorn, or with an icy glare 
 that fills one for the moment with a tormenting sensation. 
 This cannot be mere accident ; it must be something more 
 than want of harmony ; neither does it always arise from 
 a mutual repulsion ; I have myself been seized by this feel- 
 ing against a man who exhibited no similar dislike to my- 
 self; I have myself been an object of virulent hatred and 
 persecution by persons to whom I had no distaste at all, 
 whom I was not conscious of having offended, and whom I 
 really would not injure, even though the most favorable 
 opportunity for doing so were presented to my very hand. 
 
 How, then, can it be rationally explained? In no way 
 except as my' Gooroo explained it we were foes in a for- 
 mer life ; we lived and hated, and one of us probably be- 
 came the victim of the other. I know a man at this present 
 moment, who stands high in the world, a fine scholar, a
 
 EDWAED WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 251 
 
 civil gentleman, and so forth yet I never by accident find 
 myself in his presence without feeling satisfied that he 
 once deprived me of life. His company becomes odious, 
 hateful, fearful to me; my blood runs cold as ice, from 
 brain to heel ; I have the idea all through of blood, blood, 
 blood ; of fierce tusks or claws ; of something ferocious, 
 savage, and sanguinary. My flesh creeps ; my blood cur- 
 dles ; if I were to be beside that man for an hour, I should 
 swoon ; if I were to be near him for a month, I should die. 
 This is not mere antipathy, for I have none towards him. 
 I have labored hard to divest myself of the feeling ; I have 
 accosted him in friendly spirit but all is useless. I never 
 can get over this fixed idea ; or fail to associate him with 
 death in my own mind. Probably, it may be said, he is 
 destined to murder me ; and perhaps this would be a fair 
 answer to my argument while we both live. I can only 
 remark, however, that at present there seems no possible 
 chance of such a contingency ; it seems, in sooth, the most 
 unlikely event that could occur. But whether I have at 
 one time been his victim, or whether he is destined at some 
 future period to destroy me, I never can get rid of the 
 strong and powerful idea that he has revelled in my blood, 
 and drank it hot as it flowed out of my heart. I believe 
 he has. 
 
 This, however, was not precisely the feeling which I en- 
 tertained towards Dom Balthazar. Towards him there 
 was fierce and burning hatred ; but no fear mingled with 
 my sensation. On the contrary, while I detested, I felt 
 myself in spirit at least his master. As boy to man, I 
 was of course no match for him ; he could have crushed me 
 at a blow ; but as spirit marshalled against spirit, I felt 
 that mine was the superior, and that I either conquered 
 him in some other place, or would eventually do so here. 
 Even in his sternest moods, and when his hard eye was 
 fixed on me with a concentrated glare like that of Medusa,
 
 252 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 % 
 
 I confronted him with an unquailing gaze, and stared him 
 down ; his shagg}- lashes were lowered, and his dark glance 
 was arrested, as if in fear ; he could not bear my fixed and 
 lion look. At these periods I could see that he shook all 
 over; but whether with rancor or apprehension, I could 
 not of course guess. But it invariably happened that after 
 a conflict of this kind, he sought to tempt me into open 
 quarrel, by taunts, or hints, or shrugs, or insinuations of 
 my falsehood, cowardice or treachery. I bore all, however, 
 for it would have been insanity to have entered into a fray 
 with this strong and deadly man, who, if he failed in bodily 
 vigor a most unlikely chance would not have scrupled 
 to resort to one of his Spanish arguments with the dagger, 
 and would have deprived me of life with no more scruple 
 than a cat exhibits to an unhappy mouse. If so taken off, 
 what motive could there be in any one of the tribe to exert 
 themselves to bring a brother to justice for the sake of a 
 wandering stranger like myself ? 
 
 " Zala-Mayna," said he to me, one day, "why do you 
 linger here among these people ? you are not of their 
 blood ; you never can be reconciled wholly to their customs. 
 You are young, bold, brave, handsome ; why chain your- 
 self down to the career of a vagabond, when you might be 
 a soldier and a hero ? 
 
 "Dom Balthazar," I answered, "when I am sure that 
 you take sufficient interest in my welfare to justify you in 
 questioning me, then I will answer you, but not till then." 
 
 His eye quailed ; his lip quivered ; his liver grew white 
 within him. He affected then to be in a most companion- 
 able mood. 
 
 " Naj 7 ," said he, " I know not why you should repel me, 
 or why you should suspect that any but a friendly feeling 
 has prompted my question. You are young. I am a man 
 who has travelled much, observed much, and suffered much. 
 I have traversed nearly the whole habitable earth, and can
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 253 
 
 put you in the way of great adventure. I see that this is 
 your desire ; more than that, it is your destiny ; you can- 
 not avoid ; you must fulfil it. Why, then, should you spurn 
 a man who could put you in the way of achieving that very 
 end for which Fate has marked you ?" 
 
 "What may that be, most excellent Dom Balthazar? 
 Stabbing negroes in the Pyrenees? Keeping guard at 
 Ahlen ? carrying messages to devil-kings ? selling poisons 
 to unfaithful wives ? None of these will suit me." 
 
 " No," he said, " not these, nor such as these. In the 
 vast deserts of Arabia there are tribes who make the bravest 
 to be their king. Follow me, and I will lead you to them ; 
 with your knowledge and your right arm, you may be a 
 second Ahmed, at the head of a new faith, and extending 
 your conquering banner from Stamboul to Rome or Lon- 
 don. Again, there are princes in India who require the 
 arts, the sciences, the skill of Europe, and will repay their 
 owner with kingdoms and with peoples. All these are 
 yours, or may be yours what hinders Zala-Mayna from 
 wearing the crown of Aureng Zebe, or following in the 
 triumphant path of Tamerlane, or Chengiz?" 
 
 " I answer your question by putting another what 
 hinders you from doing all these fine things, which you 
 kindly reserve for me ?" 
 
 " Many obstacles interpose the first and greatest is my 
 age. I am no longer young like you. I am fifty what 
 man of fifty could achieve what I have marked out unless 
 he had passed his youth in laying the foundation for it? 
 A gain, I am not learned as you are ; and it is now too late 
 for me to go to school. Finally, I am no longer ambitious. 
 I have gained all I need ; and my years require repose. 
 But you have a future before you. All mine is in the 
 Past." 
 
 " Nevertheless, Dom Balthazar, I am content, and will
 
 254 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 not seek my fortune in the way you point out. My fortune 
 is with " 
 
 I was about to add, " Francesca," but I stopped myself 
 in time. I had never breathed her name to this villain. It 
 would have been a sacrilege. 
 
 " Ah," said he, " I know what you would say but you 
 are wrong, you will fail. Poor youth you are, indeed, 
 infatuated." And he left me with a scornful sneer, more 
 burning than Alecto's torch unto my heart. 
 
 Oh ! how I wished for wings to bear her off from this 
 hateful bully's presence; from his machinations against 
 both ; for now I felt convinced that he was devising evil ; 
 and how I longed to possess some magic art whereby I 
 could dive into his heart, detect his secret, whatever it was, 
 and meet him with his own artifices ! Lose her ! lose my 
 Francesca ! the very thought was death. But how secure 
 her ? I was alone, helpless, a boy, a beggar, living almost 
 on the alms of the Gitanos. I was in the centre of a tribe 
 with fierce passions, watched, probably, by a hundred eyes, 
 each quick and keen as that of a serpent; for now it 
 flashed on my mind like lightning that of late wherever I 
 had been, I always saw a gypsy boy or girl loitering near ; 
 sometimes peering into the grass, sometimes rifling the 
 bushes, sometimes lingering about the hedges, as if in 
 search of bird's nests. I had not noticed it before, but now 
 it ran through my whole being like an illuminating flood. 
 
 " Yes," I cried, " doubtless there is truth in the man's 
 words. Manasam is away ; Akiba is ill, experimented upon, 
 doubtless, by some of Balthazar's potions. Why suffers 
 the old man now for a whole month ? Such a thing never 
 happened before. I must watch ; I must spy. I must dis- 
 cover what is going on, or I am undone." 
 
 I went home to my tent, I flung myself on my bed, 
 dressed as I was, but I could not sleep ; I was restless ; I 
 turned from side to side ; my brain worked incessantly, it went
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 255 
 
 round and round like a revolving water-wheel ; an uneasy 
 passion convulsed me ; in vain I closed my eyes and sought 
 repose ; in vain I tried to lull my quick-growing thoughts. 
 I seemed to lie in a bed of torture ; sleep was wholly 
 banished from my lids. The hours marched on; all was 
 still ; the watch-dogs were asleep ; I could only hear the 
 neigh of our horses as they communicated at intervals 
 together. Something evil is being devised, I thought ; this 
 restlessness i^ supernatural. Let me explore it. I rose and 
 peeped out of my tent. , The night was pitch dark. I could 
 not trace the outline of the Downs as they mingled with 
 the ebon sky, but saw a light penetrating through a chink ; 
 I crept softly out on my face and hands in the direction 
 from which the gleam shone. Not a sound was heard save 
 the twitter of a bird occasionally in the thicket. One of 
 our dogs, startled from his sleep, came near and smelled at 
 me. I stilled him with my hand ; he knew my touch. I 
 bowed him down to the ground, and he moved not; he 
 seemed to understand that I wished to be unobserved ; he 
 made no sign, but I could see he watched me with anxious 
 eyes. Over the damp grass I crept still ; I could hear my 
 beating heart. My thoughts were wound up to a point, and 
 now I knew the tent from which the light flashed. It was 
 that appropriated to Dom Balthazar. I heard the sounds 
 of conversation. There were evidently more than two 
 within. I glided on and on until I was hidden beneath its 
 side, burning with restless curiosity to learn my fate, for I 
 felt that it was now at stake. Gradually I came nearer and 
 nearer, until I was close to the place. I hid myself at the 
 back of the tent. To look within was, of course, out of the 
 question ; but in a moment I knew all the voices. I had 
 no need to learn more. Dom Balthazar was there, the 
 Gyps}' Queen, and Giacomo. These constituted the three 
 great powers of our community. Dom Balthazar was 
 speaking when T got near.
 
 256 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 "Thus it is," said he, "my brother, this is a Busne in 
 our tents is not his home ; he must abide there no longer. 
 In a week I shall find out his birth, his place, and why he 
 is among us. The watch which you have just given me 
 will be a clue to all. The symbol of the eagle is merely the 
 coat of arms of his family ; for these Gentiles think it fine 
 to say they are descended from birds and beasts. They 
 worship not idols of wood or stone. So they swear, and 
 so, I suppose, they think; but their great ones worship 
 images of this kind more truly than they worship their 
 God ; they make them to be their religion, for those are 
 emblems of rank and power, which are their only creed. 
 They would sooner abandon all than to relinquish these 
 baubles ; sons of devils ! yet thus they seek to cheat their 
 grand progenitor. I have said it he must go." 
 
 " But our faith is pledged to him," said Giacomo, " he 
 hath become as one of ourselves. He hath broken our 
 bread, hath learned our language, hath slept in our tents, 
 hath sworn and kept fealty to us." 
 
 " What of that ? It was not with him ye made a league, 
 but another wholly different, whom ye supposed him to be. 
 He hath come here under a mask. The mask is off, and ye 
 see he is an impostor. What further have ye to do with 
 him ?" 
 
 " But my heart clings to him nevertheless," says the 
 Gypsy Queen ; " he is a good youth, and hath behaved well." 
 
 " It will be worth gold to us, " answered Balthazar ; " if, 
 as I suppose, his parents are people of condition, they will 
 give a large sum for his recovery." 
 
 The eyes of all three sparkled at this. I could not see 
 them, indeed, but my heart instinctively felt it. Place gold 
 before a gypsy, and he is half mad. Mention the accursed 
 thing, and all other considerations vanish. There was 
 silence for some minutes, as if each was ruminating over 
 the luxurious idea which the bare name had called up.
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 257 
 
 The Gypsy Queen first resumed 
 
 " He is a Busne, doubtless," she said, " and he hath lived 
 on our people now for two years. Gold only will repay us ; 
 besides, his mother will be glad. I suppose she weeps for his 
 loss. She will give gold in many a purse for his recovery." 
 
 I could not help smiling bitterly at this, " His mother 
 will be glad." The charming serpent no, seraph but both 
 mean the same thing in the Hebrew. I knew how glad she 
 would be. She would be glad, no doubt, to send me back 
 to my school torturers ; to remove away forever the living 
 witness of her folly. 
 
 " Well," said Giacomo, " there will be gold but if not, 
 he shall sta} r . I will depend upon his faith. Besides, if he 
 goes, what becomes of her ?" 
 
 " Of whom quotha ?" asked Balthazar. 
 
 " Nay, my brother, thou surely must know this. I speak 
 of Francesca, his betrothed bride." 
 
 " But she is also a Busne. She also must go." 
 
 The Gypsy Queen started ; she was evidently excited by 
 the threat. The little girl had twined herself around that 
 rugged heart. 
 
 " Francesca must not go," she said. 
 
 " She shall," simply answered Dom Balthazar. There 
 was a tone of decision about this short speech which cut 
 through my heart. I suppose it had its effect also on both 
 his companions ; for neither contradicted Balthazar. 
 
 " She cannot get her living like the true Galore," he said ; 
 " she cannot be a burden to us, and to our children. We eat 
 not the bread of idleness why should she ? the daughter 
 of a Busne of a Gentile of a dog ? Besides, she also is 
 worth gold." 
 
 "What mean you, Dom Balthazar ?" said both. 
 
 Their eager curiosity affrighted me. It was an evil omen. 
 
 " There are ten hundred pieces of red gold for him that 
 will deliver her over to a man who wants her. He is not 
 17
 
 258 E'DWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 safe while she is free. He will do her no harm only send 
 her to Spain to be a nun, I think. Will the Galore say 
 unto the man of ten hundred pieces, 'Begone we want 
 thee not. We are rich.' " 
 
 " But who is this man ?" asked Giacomo. 
 
 " He is her uncle," answered Dom Balthazar. " I know 
 him ; he sent me here. The gold is ready when the girl is 
 his." 
 
 A long and dreadful pause followed. My fate was now in 
 the balance. I felt like a criminal who awaits the verdict 
 that is to set him free once again in the bright open air, 
 or to send him to the gallows with bolt and gyve. I 
 could count the pulses of my heart. I could number the 
 throbbings of my temples ; it seemed an age. At length 
 Giacomo spoke. 
 
 " Well," said he, " Dom Balthazar, with you be it. Bring 
 the purses ; the Busne girl may go. I suppose the boy will 
 soon follow her. Farewell," and they rose as if to separate. 
 I retreated rapidly. I got into my tent. I flung myself 
 on my bed. Suddenly I heard a noise a footstep, as if 
 one entered. I closed my eyes ; I breathed heavily. The 
 person stooped listened ; he brought his horrid eyes near 
 mine. I knew by instinct it was he the accursed fiend 
 Balthazar. But I moved not. The thought occurred, " Is 
 he going to murder me in my sleep ?" Well I must risk 
 it. I did not move. He muttered, "It is all right," and 
 stole away. 
 
 The next day Dom Balthazar departed. I knew where 
 he was gone to London to make inquiries. I went into 
 the town and bought a map of the roads. No time was to 
 be lost ; every nerve and muscle I had was braced up for 
 the occasion of this great crisis. I knew that if I faltered 
 now I was undone. If I were separated from Francesca, or 
 she from me, what was to become of her ? She would be 
 banded over to the uncle. What guarantee was there that
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAQU. 259 
 
 he would not destroy her? He had already killed her 
 parents. Why should he spare the child ? I did not believe 
 one word of the convent in Spain, or the tale that she was 
 to be made a nun. How was he more safe with her among 
 the priests than with the gypsies ? The priests were the 
 Soldiers of the Vatican. Here was the heiress of a great 
 estate and an ancient peerage in their hands. What might 
 they not accomplish if they restored her to both ? First of 
 all, her own devotion to their cause her wealth, her name, 
 her influence, her family connections, no doubt powerful. 
 This would be a great deal. Secondly, and this would, 
 perhaps, weigh more with them, the renown through Eu- 
 rope of having done a transcendent piece of justice. This 
 story, therefore, was evidently nonsense. It could impose 
 but on fools. Only her death could make him secure and 
 who could doubt that any scruple of conscience would in- 
 terfere to stay him ? 
 
 I bought my map, and carefully studied it. I made 
 m}'self a thorough master of the roads to London. Upon 
 this point, therefore, I was satisfied. But how communi- 
 cate with Francesca ? She was securely guarded ; all inter- 
 course between us seemed prohibited. Nothing, it is true, 
 had been either said or done which could be considered a 
 denial of access. Nevertheless, there seemed a moral chain 
 about us both which we could not break. She was, in fact, 
 watched, no doubt as vigilantly as I mj-self was watched. 
 Well, I said, I shall outwatch the watcher. She must be 
 saved, or I will perish. I knew she had unbounded faith 
 in me. I knew that with one word she would follow me all 
 over the earth. No persuasion, no tedious argument would 
 be needed could I only once approach her. But she lay in 
 the tent of the Queen gypsy, and that was always carefully 
 guarded. Here she was confined night and day. What 
 was to be done ? Time pressed. Balthazar would return. 
 All hope would then be ended. I should probably be
 
 260 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 seized, gagged, and taken away home, or to a ship, or I 
 knew not whither. I watched, and watched, and still I 
 watched, but no communication could I make. I could not 
 send her the slightest token from my hand. 
 
 Five nights thus passed. My agony during all this time 
 I never shall forget. I dreaded the lapse of every hour 
 lest it should bring back Dom Balthazar. The sixth sun- 
 set came, and with it departed nearly all my hopes. " To- 
 night," I said, " or never." I had marked out two of the 
 best horses in the encampment. They were strong, docile, 
 and swift. They knew me well. I had often fed them, 
 they had licked my hands, they had come to me for bread, 
 which was never refused. I took care that they should 
 remain idle all the week. This required a little manage- 
 ment, but none suspected my design. I procured some 
 clothes, a basket of food, a lantern, and made free with a 
 pair of double-barrelled pistols which were in Manasam's 
 tent. These I loaded. I had a couple of daggers also, 
 and a large horseman's cloak. I got some quick poison, 
 which I wrapped up carefully in some pieces of meat, and 
 with these I proceeded towards the tent of the Gypsy 
 Queen, about midnight. The horses I led gently close by, 
 and tethered them to a bush; the pack-saddles were on 
 their backs. On my arm I bore the horseman's cloak loose, 
 and Manasam's pistols were in my belt. The dogs knew 
 me, they barked not ; but had I sought to enter the tent 
 they would have torn me in pieces. I flung them the meat ; 
 they swallowed it, and in a few moments lay lifeless. Then 
 I stole into the tent. I knew where Francesca slept. I 
 crept noiselessly to where she slept. I could perceive by 
 her breathing that she was not asleep she wept. I sighed 
 into her ear, " Francesca, I am here ; I am come to save 
 you from ruin death. Get up quickly, and follow me. 
 There is not a moment to be lost." I think she gave a 
 Blight scream, but she knew my voice. A harsh murmur
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 261 
 
 was heard ; some one came from another part of the tent. 
 I was suddenly grappled by the throat. Then exerting all 
 my strength I flung off the Gypsy Queen, for it wa's she, 
 and cried out, " Quick, quick, Francesca, or we are undone. 
 With me life and love with them your uncle and death." 
 I flung the cloak round her, she clung to me. A terrific 
 scream was heard. It was from the Gypsy Queen. " Trea- 
 son," she cried, " treason ! Rescue 'ere it be too late." 
 She pulled a large bell, which was at the entrance of her 
 tent, and which I had never seen before. The sound rang 
 through my ears like a death-knell. From all sides a con- 
 fused murmur was heard. I heard loud and threatening 
 voices tones that gurgled blood. Again she grappled me ; 
 again I flung her off, and again she screamed. " Treason, 
 treason ; Zala-Mayna murders me." The shouts of the 
 people increased, they were all but on me. I bore Fran- 
 cesca, who had fainted, in my arms away into the open air ; 
 the cold air revived her. I placed her on one of the horses, 
 and mounted the other myself. All this happened in one 
 minute quicker far than I have described it. The g3 r psies 
 surrounded us they were half naked and variously armed. 
 Luckily the darkness was in my favor. None of them had 
 brought a light ; the hurry and confusion suspended their 
 faculties. I struck the horses fiercely ; they leaped and 
 trampled down the crowd. A terrible howl arose a shout 
 of pain, anger, madness, and revenge. Suddenly three or 
 four of the gypsies mounted horses and began to pursue 
 us. Away along the high road we sped, the stars glittered 
 on the sleeping ocean ; all seemed peace and beauty ; but 
 the holy silence of the night was broken by curses and 
 terrible threats. We soon outdistanced our pursuers, but 
 we heard their following footsteps for a long time. We 
 slackened our pace. A solitary horseman rode leisurely 
 towards us. He seemed a spectre. My heart felt a fore- 
 boding ; I drew forth a pistol, for never did I disregard that 
 17
 
 262 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 silent monitor which is a divine voice within us. As he 
 came near, the moon came from behind a cloud, and dis- 
 closed the dark hellish features of Dom Balthazar. We 
 both saw each other at the same instant of time. He turned 
 white with rage and astonishment. He put his hand into 
 his breast as if feeling for a weapon, and drew forth a dag- 
 ger. He leaped his horse upon me; but I avoided him. 
 As I passed he aimed at my breast, but missed his stroke. 
 He then turned to Francesca; she was close behind me. 
 He interposed. I called out to her "Jump!" She struck 
 her horse a quick blow, and he also passed the steed of 
 Dom Balthazar. I could see the devil quiver in his face. 
 He was a picture of all the hate of hell concentrated into 
 one small compass. We passed on rapidly, but were pur- 
 sued rapidly. He rode a powerful steed, and soon began 
 to gain upon us. Francesca trembled ; I almost despaii-ed 
 of escape. His horse snorted on our shoulders. Suddenly 
 I whirled round. I could have shot him dead that, moment, 
 but I knew it was needless. I will not shed blood, I 
 thought, now ; if I kill him I shall be pursued as a mur- 
 derer and taken. What will then become of Francesca? 
 This reasoning seems the result of cool and profound cal- 
 culation. It was the instinctive wisdom of the instant. 
 It was the thought of less than half a second. As he was 
 close upon me, evidently wondering why I had ceased to 
 gallop, I fired and his horse fell dead. The bullet had 
 entered his brain. Dom Balthazar tumbled heavily to the 
 ground. I heard him groan. We rode on all night, and 
 the next were in London.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 LONDON, thou vast and terrible desert, how shall I 
 describe thee ? to the duke rolling in wealth a Paradise 
 to the pauper empty of purse a wilderness more blank 
 than El Sahara. Here the extremes of riches and poverty 
 meet ; here they jostle every moment. In one room I see 
 gold flung about like ditch water ; that young spendthrift 
 has just succeeded to the accumulation of fifty years of 
 fraud and meanness, and depravity. He has surrounded 
 himself with every incentive to vice ; loose women, jocke} r s, 
 prize-fighters, tailors and decorators. He drinks up the 
 most expensive wines ; he feeds only on the most costly 
 dishes. Yet is he at heart one of the dirtiest and most 
 despicable fellows that poisons the atmosphere he breathes. 
 His soul is as small as that of a toad ; his heart as base 
 and sneaking as that of a polecat. Fortune seems to have 
 filled his pockets with her favors, as if in derision of those 
 who think gold the chief blessing of mortals. He can 
 scarcely write his name ; he is almost unable to read the 
 most ordinary volume; he is deplorably ignorant of all 
 things but that gold is power and that money is luxury. He 
 knows only the vilest wretches for no others will con- 
 taminate themselves by contact with a fellow who has no 
 recommendation but his estate and seeing in them habitual 
 baseness and subserviency, he thinks all mankind are of the 
 same mould ; and he disbelieves in virtue, because he has 
 never observed it in his own select society. If you read 
 his mind, you will be amazed to find it all a blank nor is 
 the page white, as most blank pages are ; but it is all dirt 
 and filth, and smuttiness. Yet he spends ten thousand 
 yearly in ordure ; and London is the home for him. Could 
 it but last forever, how glorious would his condition be ! 
 
 Come now with me into the opposite end of London.
 
 2C4 EDWARD WOETLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 Let us climb up this narrow flight of stairs, which creaks 
 at every step. The smell is dreadful ; put thy kerchief to 
 thy nose, and let it be well perfumed, or I shall never get 
 thee to the garret. Let us knock and enter. A miserable 
 pallet is on the floor ; a few books are strewed about, there 
 is a dying ember in the fire; the rain and cold outside 
 pierce through these crazy walls of misery. The air is con- 
 fined ; the window must not be opened, or the east wind 
 will penetrate with still greater force, and kill the occupants. 
 Alas ! they are already half dead with every privation. 
 These people have known want for years ; they are dying 
 of starvation and blood-poisoning, and heart-sickness. 
 The man is a scholar, a critic, perhaps a poet filled with the 
 finest spirit of genius. He shone at his university; the 
 greatest triumphs were predicted for him. He came to 
 London, and here he is. He is the miserable drudge of 
 booksellers. He can get no honest employment; he is 
 obliged to take up with the meanest. He is a bookseller's 
 hack. He goes through every phase of wretchedness. Oh! 
 that his father had but apprenticed him to a trade had 
 made him a shoe-black, or a sweep. His life would have 
 been happier than it is now. He sits late into the night 
 and writes a piece. He passes the whole of the following 
 day in hawking it from shop to shop. In some he meets 
 with ribaldrj'-, in others savage rudeness, in all contempt. 
 He crawls home at night, miserable, heartbroken, cowardly, 
 scorning himself and life, and praying for the hand of death 
 to release him from life and London. Thank heaven it 
 will soon come, and he shall beg from booksellers no more. 
 
 Such were my reflections after two or three months' resi- 
 dence in London, and while I was yet a sort of outcast. I 
 felt their bitterness then, and I recognize their truth still. 
 But let me go back. 
 
 When I arrived in London, I rode straight to an old- 
 fashioned inn enough the Tabard, in Southwark. I de-
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 265 
 
 livered over my Francesca to the landlady, who behaved 
 with as much kindness as usually belongs to a landlady in 
 an inn ; and after seeing our horses stabled, we supped and 
 separated for the night. Our hostess suspected, and half 
 hinted our elopement, and we did not deny it. Of what 
 use could it be to do so ? This interested her in our wel- 
 fare, all women like to be mixed up in an intrigue. Next 
 day I sold the horses. They were honestly worth ten 
 guineas each, but I got only three guineas for the two. 
 The landlord introduced me to a very pious dealer, and 
 the very pious dealer was so conscientious that he would 
 not bid for them himself without consulting his foreman ; 
 and the foreman thought them such wretched animals, that 
 he advised his master to have nothing to do with them, 
 lest they should die on his hands before the week was over; 
 and I was half persuaded myself that what they said was 
 true, and should have probably given them away as it is 
 said for a song, had not the landlord again good-naturedly 
 pressed the matter on the dealer, and the bargain was at 
 length made, greatly to my satisfaction, and that of my 
 worthy landlord too, whom I treated with a bottle of wine 
 on the occasion. But my landlord's good nature did not 
 end here, for he was so apprehensive that his friend the 
 dealer would lose by the transaction, that he bought the 
 horses back again from him ; and I heard him a few days 
 after bargaining with an old farmer, and saw him get thirty 
 golden guineas for the pair that had been sold for three. 
 This little transaction rather opened my eyes to London 
 customs ; and I began to think that the gypsies, after all, 
 were not the only people who earned a questionable liveli- 
 hood. Well, I have since seen mankind in all countries 
 and under all characters, and I am not much disposed to 
 alter my opinion. 
 
 Methinks I hear some one say, " Master Wortley Montagu, 
 art thou thyself so free from all blame in this transaction ?
 
 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 "What right hadst thou to sell the horses of the gypsies ? 
 Were they not in fact stolen ware ? and wert not thou at 
 this very moment liable to be hanged for felony ?" I admit 
 I was. I half wish I had been. I should have escaped 
 many sorrows, and shed a novel lustre on our genealogical 
 tree. But I reconciled the theft to my conscience in this 
 way; and that same conscience of ours is a marvellous 
 casuist. In the first place it was essential to my own safety 
 and this I think high politicians and statesmen always 
 put forth as an unanswerable argument for any departure 
 from the straight line of morals. In the second, I had left 
 a gold watch in the gypsies' hands, which was worth sixty 
 guineas if it was worth sixpence and this doctrine of quid 
 pro quo ought, I think, to satisfy the souls of all who have 
 read " Father Sanchez," and the " Seraphic Thomas Aqxii- 
 nas," on cases of this nature. In the third place, I resolved, 
 the moment I had got any money, to repay the gypsies for 
 their steeds and this I considered then not only conclusive 
 proof of my perfect honesty, but also have found since that 
 it is an answer sanctioned by the universal practice of man- 
 kind except indeed in those rascally places, courts of law, 
 where I once saw a very honest gentleman sentenced to be 
 hanged, simply for borrowing a diamond ring from a jewel- 
 ler, which he protested solemnly to both judge and jury he 
 intended to pay for when he could. I have no doubt he 
 did only that as the time of payment was to be left to his 
 own honor, it would probably have been deferred longer 
 than convenient. Lastly, I confess I am now sincerely 
 ashamed of the transaction ; and though I remitted a large 
 sum of money to Manasam some years after, which was 
 more than ten times the value of the horses, the pistols and 
 all the other pillage with which I had made off, and though 
 the said sum was carefully by him distributed among those 
 to whom it of right belonged, still I am b}^ no means easy 
 about the conveyance, and I am in truth very sorry for it.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 267 
 
 It is one of those errors in a man's life which we all wish 
 blotted out, and from which I fear few of us are free. 
 
 My best course would have been to let the horses loose 
 when they served my turn, and to have starved on but 
 even then I very much doubt whether their unerring instinct 
 would have conducted them safely home for there were a 
 good many horse-stealers at that time as well as myself on 
 the road, and probably they had as little strength of virtue 
 to support them against temptation as the grandson of His 
 Grace the Duke of Kingston. But I did one good act the 
 same week I married Fraucesca. According to all rule, 
 I was a fool to do so, for she was entirely in my power. 
 But I think it is, on the whole, better to play the fool than 
 the knave in these matters. My conscience is rather clearer 
 than it would have been had I deceived and cast her off. 
 Faith! I have often since suspected I was not of noble 
 blood at all ; for this proceeding was against all tradition 
 and all hereditary customs. I never before knew or heard 
 of a duke's descendant playing the ass in that way. 
 
 And now arose the grand question, how was I to live ? 
 how was I to support a wife ? An interrogation of a very 
 practical character, which I doubt not has often startled 
 many. My landlord soon got rid of me ; when my three 
 guineas were gone, and he was quite certain that no more 
 remained, he turned us both out of the Tabard, and bid us 
 go to the deuce. But his wife left us half a guinea, which 
 gave us courage to face a new lodging. This was modest 
 enough. For half a crown a week I rented an attic, and 
 Ixjgan to look my prospects in the face. I was a good 
 scholar; better, I was convinced, than most men who have 
 a University education. I wrote some nonsense, and to 
 my amazement got a guinea for it. I frequented the coffee- 
 houses, and picked up a chance sort of acquaintance with 
 wits, and scribblers, and philosophers ; and they put me in 
 the way of employment as a translator, at the rate of a
 
 268 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 guinea or a guinea and a half for every printed sheet of 
 sixteen pages. This was killing work, but it enabled me 
 to live. I passed under the name of Smith and a Smith 
 indeed I was, for I was fabricating bread out of my own 
 brains. George Sale was then translating the " Koran," 
 which he published about two years afterwards. What I 
 had learned from my Gooroo, Akiba, was now called into 
 play. I think I gave him some valuable information. At 
 all events, he was pleased more than once to tell me so, and 
 out of his scanty earnings as a compiler of the " Universal 
 History," he often gave me a guinea, and subsequently en- 
 gaged me as a contributor to its pages. He was a well- 
 looking man; and though a lawyer, honest. He often 
 invited myself and Francesca to his house in Surrey street, 
 where we became acquainted with his wife and family, and 
 I sadly lamented his death, which took place in 1736. 
 Here I met another singular character George Psalman- 
 nazar the author of the History of Formosa. This was 
 not his real name ; but after the detection of his imposture 
 he was ashamed to divulge either it or his native place, lest, 
 as he said, it would bring disgrace upon his mother. He 
 was a short man, with a square face, long hair of raven 
 color, and piercing black eyes. I rather think he was of 
 gypsy blood, and indeed the whole course of his career 
 would justify me in coming positively to such a conclusion. 
 For his marvellous adventures as a pretended pilgrim on 
 the way to Rome, to equip himself for which he stole out 
 of a chapel a palmer's robe that hung before some saint's 
 image; his assumption of the character of a mendicant 
 Japanese, converted to Christianity, travelling through 
 Europe to acquire knowledge; his curious experience 
 among the Beguines, from whose saintly faces he tears off 
 the mask of pudency ; his career as a soldier, in which he 
 probably did as many strange mad things as Dom Balthazar 
 himself, all struck me as being in such singular accordance
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 269 
 
 with what I know of the Zingari life, that I entertained 
 little doubt at that time, and have none now, that he was 
 of the true Galore breed. Like them, he knew many lan- 
 guages, and had mingled in almost every order of human 
 life; and I think his silence on his origin, birthplace, and 
 family name may be viewed as strongly confirming the 
 notion that he was an offshoot of this strange people ; who 
 give (as I know) more Jesuits, Generals, and Cardinals to 
 the world than would readily be believed. 
 
 Sale was a lazy man as Iaz3 r and careless as Steele him- 
 self and though he had undertaken to furnish the book- 
 sellers with a dozen sheets a month, he in fact did not sup- 
 ply more than one or two. He was, therefore, forced to 
 have recourse to " understrappers," and of this honorable 
 confraternity I became one. His oriental studies, extend- 
 ing over a great number of years, had made George skep- 
 tical about Moses and his cosmogony; he was in fact a 
 Mohammedan in principle, and was persuaded of the di- 
 vine inspiration of the son of Abd'alla. My tutor, Akiba, 
 had half impregnated myself with notions very nearly 
 alike. A perfect congeniality thus existed between us on 
 certain points ; and our publishers were of so liberal a turn 
 that when Sale soon after abandoned the work, and George 
 Psalmannazar was taken in to fill his place, that worthy, who 
 had now become a neophyte of the bishops, began to run 
 so counter to the liberal views of Sale, that one of the 
 partners in the concern, Mr. Provost, sent for him one day 
 in great alarm, and begged it as a favor that " he would 
 not be righteous over much." The reformed Jew, or gypsy, 
 or whatever else he was, however, convinced the worthy 
 man that it was much more profitable to write up Moses 
 than to write him down ; and accordingly an entirely new 
 tone of thought was given to the whole work, and it was 
 framed for parsons rather than for philosophers. But the 
 parsons did not - ipport it as liberally as might have been
 
 270 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. - 
 
 expected. In fact they were better employed in putting 
 out their Johns for college, and their Jennies for Fox Hall, 
 BO that the only person who gained much by the transac- 
 tion was Psalmannazar, who extended his connection 
 among the orthodox, and filled his pockets and his paunch 
 through his zeal for Moses. 
 
 The Reverend Thomas Woolston was another who be- 
 came known to me at this period, and whose brief career 
 furnished matter of amusement, blended with melancholy. 
 He used to stroll into a poor coffee-house where I was ac- 
 customed to resort, and fall into conversation with whoever 
 happened to be present, indulging in speculation on the 
 most abstruse subjects, with an utter disregard of time and 
 place. He was a man of great good humor, and extensive 
 learning ; but not content with ridiculing Moses and the 
 prophets, he published some desperate pamphlets on the 
 miracles, which he dedicated to those right reverend fathers 
 in God, the Bishops of London and Lichfield, St. Davids, 
 and St. Asaph, in a strain of cutting sarcasm and fun, 
 which was gall and bitterness to those truly pious men. 
 But this ecclesiastical merriment was by no means to the 
 taste of our saintly prelates. They got up a most dreadful 
 outcry against him, and had the poor fellow tried and con- 
 victed before Lord Chief Justice Raj-mond, a wretched 
 judge, who of course was base enough to side with the 
 popular feeling, and induced a jury to convict poor Wool- 
 ston. He was condemned to a year's imprisonment, and 
 fined one hundred pounds ; which last penalty was intended 
 to operate as a sentence of perpetual jail, for nobody knew 
 better than the judge who imposed it that a million could 
 as easily be raised by poor Woolston as a hundred pounds. 
 The bishops exulted, and the clergy were in raptures. 
 Woolston was sent to the King's Bench prison-house, 
 where he died of the jail fever, and thus relieved the minds 
 of the hierarchy. But I have often reflected with indigna-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 271 
 
 tion on this outrage against opinion, and I do not envy 
 either the bishops who persecuted, or the inquisition who 
 condemned him. He was a harmless man, with greater wit 
 than judgment; but his death-bed was pious, and his last 
 words were : " This is a struggle which all men must go 
 through, and which I bear not only patiently, but with 
 cheerfulness." 
 
 I was also accustomed to meet with Richard Savage, the 
 natural son of Lord Rivers, by the Countess of Maccles- 
 field now Mrs. Brett, whose singular history is sufficiently 
 known to the world. He had published a Miscellany which 
 he dedicated to my mother in the most absurd and fulsome 
 strain of pangyrick, and on the first occasion when he and 
 Mr. Smith (myself) became acquainted, he entertained me 
 with a satirical account of Lady Mary, whom he abused in 
 all the phrases of Billingsgate, and did not hesitate to 
 pronounce " a brimstone of Tartarus itself." " Oh ! how I 
 fooled her," he said; "by Jupiter I duped her out of ten 
 guineas, and though it came from her like her blood, still I 
 had so baited my hook with flattery, that the she-shark was 
 caught." And then he repeated with bitter satire, " Since 
 the country has been honored with the glory of your wit, 
 as elevated and immortal as your soul, it no longer remains 
 a doubt whether your sex have strength of mind in pro- 
 portion to their sweetness. There is something in your 
 verses as distinguished as your air. They are as strong 
 as truth, as deep as reason, as clear as innocence, and as 
 smooth as beauty. They contain a nameless and peculiar 
 mixture of force and grace which is at once so movingly 
 serene, and so majestically lovely, that it is too amiable to 
 appear anywhere but in your eyes, and in your writings. 
 As fortune is not more my enemy than I am the enemy of 
 flatter}', I know not how I can forbear this application to 
 your ladyship ; because there is scarce a possibility I should.
 
 272 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 say more than I believe, when I am speaking of your 
 Excellence." 
 
 "And did you write her all this ?" I asked. 
 
 " I did more," he said, " Smith, I printed it, I published 
 it. I let it loose upon the town, and made her the ridi- 
 cule of all serious people, while she fancied she became a 
 cynosure." And the honest fellow laughed very heartily, 
 in which he was joined by a coterie of wits who heard the 
 conversation. 
 
 I was amused by this fellow's hypocrisy and impudence, 
 both blended as curiously as in Orator Henley. When his 
 pockets were empty, and your purse was full, he would 
 praise you to your face with the most abject servility, and 
 when you had rewarded him with a piece, he would abruptly 
 turn away without even saying, " Thank ye," and would 
 go and spend it all in a debauch. Next day he would be 
 as servile as ever, until you had again fee'd him, when he 
 would leave you as unceremoniously as before. He always 
 presumed on his birth, and his misfortunes ; and expected 
 you to pay the greatest deference to both. He could be 
 gentlemanlike when lie pleased, but he seldom did please, 
 and he was more in his native element when he was coarse 
 and vulgar. In practice, he despised and laughed at all 
 morality, virtue and honor ; theoretically he was a Socrates 
 or Plato, and he would gurgle forth the finest sentiments 
 of temperance when drunkenness made him even incapable 
 of walking. On the whole, he was a very worthless, lying 
 fellow, and Samuel Johnson has disgraced himself and 
 literature by condescending to be his paueygrist, while he has 
 offered an outrage to decency by glossing over the fellow's 
 vices with an excuse or a palliation, which all similar ras- 
 cals will not fail to copy, and even defend under so emi- 
 nent an authority. 
 
 I saw something, too, of Theophilus Gibber, a son of the 
 old player, and a most abandoned reprobate. He dabbled
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 273 
 
 in literature, but was half his time hunted by bailiffs, and 
 he has been more than once arrested on the stage ; for he 
 had some histrionic talent which he might have profitably 
 exercised, but his dissipated habits exhausted all he got. 
 He married a most lovely woman, a sister of Dr. Arne, and 
 like him, remarkable for musical talent, but though she 
 earned a large sum by her acting, he sold her to a man of 
 fortune named Sloper ; and when he subsequently brought 
 an action against him, and laid his damages at five thousand 
 pounds, a jury appreciating his rascality at its proper 
 value, gave him the munificent sum of ten pounds, so that 
 he lost one of the finest women in the world for a few paltry 
 shillings, and while he covered himself with infamy, realized 
 the fable of the fool who cut open his goose, and for golden 
 eggs found only disappointment. He and Savage were 
 fellows of the same kind, who would have stuck at nothing 
 for money. Gibber was drowned crossing the Irish Chan- 
 nel, and Savage ought to have been hanged, and would 
 have been, only that Justice Page outraged all decency by 
 his charge to the jury on his trial for the murder of Sin- 
 clair, and that Savage had a half sister Miss Brett who 
 saved him. Old Mandeville, also, the author of the Fable 
 of the Bees, took a sort of liking to me, and often accom- 
 panied me home. He described Addison as a " parson in 
 a tye wig," but he was himself a sly old rogue, and though 
 he affected the austerity of a philosopher, I have seen him 
 stealing up Drury Lane at night, after a tawdry bit of 
 finery and paint in that modest neighborhood. 
 
 London was at this time deluged with periodical publi- 
 cations, for most of which Sale wrote, and he had given 
 me a sort of introduction to the booksellers. There was 
 the Craftsman, wuich was great against the Whigs; there 
 was the London Journal, Fog's Journal, Grub Street Jour- 
 nal, Weekly Register, Universal Spectator, Free Briton, 
 British Journal, Daily Gourant, and Reed's Journal, the 
 18
 
 274 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 whole, or the greater part, of which dealt in politics, scan- 
 dal and lampoonery, for whose perpetual production there 
 was one of the finest bodies of literary laborers that could 
 be got together. These were principally the countrymen 
 of that great patriot Bute, and they came to England with 
 equally noble views, and earned money by similar exalted 
 practices. There was scarcely any kind of prostitution to 
 which they would not submit, so long as it brought in " the 
 bawbees." Need I mention Swinton and Mitchell, and 
 Campbell, and the notorious Bower, who was alternately a 
 Jesuit, an atheist, a protestant, a quaker, and a Jesuit 
 again, as it suited his purposes, and who cheated the pub- 
 lishers of the Universal History out of no less than 300, 
 while he pillaged tailors, and plundered landladies with the 
 most glorious defiance of honesty. There was Stephen 
 Duck, who from a thresher became a poet, and penned the 
 most ridiculous verses, which got him a pension of 30 a 
 year from pious, good Queen Caroline. He supplied some 
 of these journals with poetry, and the stanzas seem to have 
 been written with a flail. There was Eustace Budgell, who 
 began his career under the infamous Lord Wharton, (the 
 father of the Duke,) and who having amassed a fortune by 
 the most discreditable arts, lost it all in one day by the 
 failure of the South Sea Scheme. He was now libelling 
 Walpole with the most ferocious bitterness, and receiving 
 bribes from the old Duchess of Marlborough for his shock- 
 ing slanders on the party who had displaced her old traitor 
 of a duke. Oldmixon was on the other side, and was ridi- 
 culing the Tories with unflagging bitterness, for which he 
 was subsequently rewarded by a post under government. 
 He wrote the life of Arthur Mainwaring, the first keeper 
 of poor Mrs. Oldfield, and would have penned the life of a 
 hangman if he could have got money by the job. Welsted 
 was also in the employ of Walpole ; an indefatigable scrib- 
 bler of political trash. Ned Ward, who kept a public house
 
 BDWAED WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 275 
 
 in Moorfields, was an imitator of Butler, and a desperate 
 antagonist of the Low Church Whigs, which drew a great 
 number of customers to his house, so that he derived equal 
 profit from his beer and brains. Defoe but why go on ? 
 I saw and lived with these gentlemen who constituted all 
 the lower empire of letters ; Pope and a few others being 
 at the supreme head, and hated and abused in every form 
 of satire by these, the writhing wretched extremity. 
 
 One morning Sale sent for me in a hurry. " Smith," 
 said he, " I find I can have little or no emplo3 r ment at 
 which I can profitably put you for some time. This vaga- 
 bond Psalmannazar and his canting set have undermined, 
 and underbid me. We must therefore see what is to be 
 done with Curll, who is always ready to take on new hands. 
 His pay is not much, but it is certain." 
 
 We went and found the bookseller behind his counter in 
 Rose Street, Covent Garden. From all I had heard of him, 
 I was prepared to see in him rather a low sort of rascal, 
 but he was not so. He had light gray eyes, not unpleas- 
 ing, only that they were enormously large and projecting ; 
 he was purblind, and splay-footed, but his manner was 
 smooth, and not without a certain polish. After an intro- 
 duction, and some commonplace remarks, Sale mentioned 
 the object of his visit, speaking rather favorabty of my pre- 
 tensions. Curll asked me into a room behind his shop, 
 and Sale waited for me at the next tavern. 
 
 "Mr. Smith," said the bibliopole, abruptly, "do you 
 know Latin ?" 
 
 I answered " Yes." 
 
 " Any other languages ?" 
 
 " Oh 1 yes French, Italian and Greek." 
 
 Curll lifted up his hands. " But do you really know 
 them, sir? By Jove, sir." 
 
 " Mr. Curll, when I say any thing, you may be assured 
 it is true."
 
 276 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " Then, sir, I shall make your fortune, by Jove, sir. You 
 are a lucky man to have come here this day. Zounds, sir, 
 I have a pack of scoundrels in my employ, who pretend 
 that they know all these languages, but when I give them 
 a work to do into English, by Jove, sir, they can do noth- 
 ing with it until they have got grammars, and lexicons, 
 and dictionaries, and the deuce knows what ; and then the 
 critics, sir, by Jove, sir, when the work is -published, the 
 critics fasten on it, and in the brutallest manner prove to 
 all the town that the translator scarcely knew the rudiments 
 of the language which he translated." 
 
 " That must be an annoyance to you, Mr. Curll." 
 
 " An annoyance, sir, by Jove ! sir, it drives me mad it 
 makes me desperate, sir. I can neither eat, sleep, walk, nor 
 drink, on account of it, by Jove ! sir." 
 
 " Well, Mr. Curll, what do you propose that I shall do 
 in this dilemma?" 
 
 " Why this, sir this is what I propose, sir. I have at 
 present some half score of these gentlemen at work for me, 
 and what I wish you to do is to revise their translations, 
 so that none of those infernal critics can find a flaw in them, 
 by Jove ! sir." 
 
 " Nay, Mr. Curll, if you ask me to put out a book in 
 which these gentlemen can't find a flaw, I'm afraid you ask 
 me an impossibility." 
 
 " Oh ! dear me, I did not mean that, by Jove, sir, I know 
 they will find a flaw in any thing, from Homer up to the 
 New Testament, but I mean, sir by Jove, sir, you know 
 what I mean a real flaw a great big boobyish flaw, such 
 as changing horses into asses, and men into women, which 
 some of my writers frequently do, by Jove, sir." 
 
 " I can undertake, Mr. Curll, that no such metamorphosis 
 as that shall happen under my supervision." 
 
 " Very good, sir, very good, by Jove, sir. You'll do 
 and the terms, Mr. Smith ?"
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 277 
 
 " Mr. Curll, I must leave these to yourself." 
 
 " Well, sir, the trouble will not be great, and there will 
 be a good deal of work. Say half a guinea for every 
 printed sheet of thirty-two pages." 
 
 I was obliged to consent, and Curll introduced me to 
 his garret. There I found about fifteen poor devils, hack 
 authors in various styles of raggery and wretchedness, with 
 woebegone features and unkempt hair, working away 
 silently at their various employments. Most of them 
 were Scotchmen ; there was an Irishman or two ; the rest 
 were of this country. The pens moved rapidly and audibly 
 over the paper in the learned stillness ; they all looked up 
 when we entered ; they seemed afraid of Curll like a pack 
 of beaten hounds or school-boys. 
 
 "Gentlemen," says Curll, "I have brought you Mr. 
 Smith, who is now in my service as general reviser of all 
 Greek, Latin, French, and Italian translations. So you 
 will have to look pretty sharp, I can tell you, and must 
 mind your P's and Q's. I am well assured of his compe- 
 tency and skill, and the next printed half-sheet that comes 
 from the printers is to be put into his hands before it is 
 revised." 
 
 I could see a shudder among some half-dozen of the 
 poorest devils at this intimation, but they dared not mur- 
 mur ; they looked at each other and at me, saying as plainly 
 as they could, " We'll soon make this place too hot for you. 
 Revise us indeed." 
 
 " I shall have to deduct a penny for every gross error in 
 each sheet," added Curll, " and that is certainly very little, 
 but I have too long put up with impositions. And now 
 let us see how goes on business." 
 
 "Mr. MacAuley, have you finished the 'History of Exe- 
 cutions ?' By Jove, sir, I want it. The press is waiting 
 anxiously for it ; so are the public." 
 
 "Mr. Curll," said MacAuley, "I have hunted through 
 18
 
 278 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 all the lanes and alleys you have directed me to, for some 
 of the last dying speeches, but could not get them. Besides, 
 I can discover little or nothing authentic about Bill S3 T kes, 
 Sally Richardson, Poll Murray, and the man who chopped 
 up his wife in Thames Street." 
 
 " Authentic ! Mr. Mac Auley ; what the dev by Jove ! 
 sir, you must be mad, or drunk, or damnably silly, sir. 
 Authentic indeed ! Why, who cares, sir, for Authentic ? 
 If you can't find 'authentic,' sir, you must invent * au- 
 thentic,' sir ; or go about your business and starve, sir ; and 
 
 die, sir ; and be d d, sir. Do I live to hear one of my 
 
 writers insult me with ' authentic ?' " 
 
 Poor MacAuley shrank into his shell, and Cuiil passed 
 to another. 
 
 " ' A Defence of the Measures of the Present Adminis- 
 tration.' Ah 1 Gleig, you are at the patriots again, I see. 
 Hit 'em hard hard, sir ; by Jove ! sir ; hit 'em with a 
 whip of iron, sir the infernal knaves, the lousy, dirty 
 scoundrels, who pretend that they only can save the 
 country. This will be a very nice sixpenny volume. And 
 here is sixpence for j^ourself, Gleig only hit the patriots 
 right and left, up and down, by Jove, sir." 
 
 Gleig took the money very thankfully. He had just 
 published an elaborate apology for adultery, in the biog- 
 raphy of a certain great man. 
 
 "What's this? 'A Comparison between the Present 
 Ministry and the Turkish Court.' Capital ! By Jove, sir, 
 that's a taking title. It will sell, sir, by Jove, sir : it must 
 sell. Let me see, let me see l When we consider the present 
 abandoned and abominable administration, which, to the 
 disgrace of England, now holds us in thick fetters, we can 
 liken them to nothing so much as that accursed gang of 
 eunuchs and cut-throats which recently brought the Sultan 
 of Turkey to an untimely end.' Very fine, sir, by Jove, 
 sir ; that will tell it will sell. Go on in that style, Archie,
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 279 
 
 and you are sure to prosper. They are a set of rogues ; 
 they do deserve hanging. By Jove, sir, these two pamph- 
 lets will be a hit, sir a hit ; for all the Whigs will buy the 
 first, and all the Tories will go mad after the last." 
 
 He passed on to another desk, where a raffish, drunken- 
 looking fellow was working. He had a Bible before him, 
 and he was evidently pleased with himself, and his employ- 
 ment. Curll paused and read 
 
 " ' Two letters from a Deist to a Friend, concerning Reve- 
 lations, &c.' Mr. Perfitt, sir by Jove, sir, how is it these 
 letters are still unfinished ? I have had a dozen orders for 
 them for the country ; the fops and fine gentlemen, not to 
 mention the Ladies of Quality, are all demanding them." 
 
 " Why, faith, sir, I have been living rather free for the 
 last two or three days, and I could not make out some of 
 the Greek of the Emperor Julian, which I wish to quote in 
 the middle of my second Letter." 
 
 "D n the Emperor Julian, sir, whoever he was. 
 
 What did he know about the subject ? One of your rascally 
 Hanover Germans, I suppose, who was all for the Pope." 
 
 "No, indeed, Julian was a Roman Emperor." 
 
 " So much the worse, sir ; by Jove, sir, a regular Jacobite 
 and Papist. You mustn't quote him, sir, in defence of the 
 Bible, or any thing, sir. It will never do for this Protest- 
 ant country. Anti-Roman, sir, is what we want, not 
 Roman." 
 
 " Sir, I quote him in defence of Deism, and against the 
 Bible. I assure you he didn't believe a word of it." 
 
 " Ah! Perfitt, -iny dear fellow, that alters the case ; go 
 on and prosper, but don't live freely again until you have 
 finished. Don't, like a good boy." 
 
 "And what are you doing, Warren ? ' The Parson Hun- 
 ter,' in two cantos. Very good title very good title, by 
 Jove, sir. Give it to the parsons hypocrites, sly foxes, 
 drones, whited sepulchres, hirelings, mammon worshippers,
 
 280 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAOU. 
 
 and so on; their belly is their God, and so on. That's 
 your sort, Sam, my boy. Finish it soon, and it will have 
 a run. And you, Butt, what are you at ? Why you dirty 
 shabby Irish brogueanier, have you not finished that ' Let- 
 ter ' yet ? What do I pay you for ? by Jove, sir. I will 
 send you back to Connaught, sir. I will send you back 
 to your potatoes and salt, sir." 
 
 Here Curll, to my amazement, began to kick this wretched 
 fellow, at which he whined piteousry. Starvation had evi- 
 dently done its work on him ; it had broken even the spirit 
 of poor Paddy. He received his cuffs very contentedly, 
 and slunk into a corner. Curll did not escape. From 
 some unknown place, tenanted in all probability by some 
 brother Hibernian, a large leaden ink pot was flung with 
 excellent aim, and hit the bookseller right in the poll. He 
 howled with rage, and quickly turned round, but every 
 hand was busily engaged in writing, and when he groaned 
 out, there was a general burst of honest indignation from 
 the whole of his literary regiment. Some of them kindly 
 ran to his assistance ; others called aloud for the discovery 
 of the sacrilegious wretch who had dared to lift his hand 
 against the person of the master, but the varlet was not to 
 be found. Curll's head began to bleed profusely ; some of 
 the gang went for Mrs. Curll, who rushed up stairs in a 
 sad fright, and caterwauled very loudly when she saw her 
 wounded lord. Darting around her fiery looks of rage, she 
 sought (I would to heaven she could have found) the wrath- 
 ful Irishman ; but as there was no possibility of this, she 
 and Curll finally left the room, amid badly suppressed tit- 
 ters, leaving me to shift for myself among my new asso- 
 ciates. 
 
 This introduction, it must be owned, was not the most 
 favorable in the world. I did all I could to make my re- 
 vision as easy as possible, and I have often read over and 
 corrected heaps of manuscript, so that but few errors ap-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 281 
 
 peared for the revise. I soon found that even by this 
 indulgence I could not satisfy these gentlemen. They 
 were nearly all starving, out-at-elbows, and garret or cellar- 
 lodged ; yet in their own estimation they were the shining 
 lights of literature and England, without whose blaze the 
 world would be in darkness. Their conceit was dreadful ; 
 their envy of each other quite maniacal ; their scandal and 
 detraction made you quite wretched to hear it. The most 
 awful feuds existed among them ; the Englishmen despised 
 the Irishmen, scorned the Scotchmen, and detested each 
 other ; the Irishmen repaid the mutual dislike of both with 
 alternate laughter, threatenings and abuse. The Scotch- 
 men hoarded up their bile until a proper opportunity 
 arrived, when they squirted it indiscriminately upon both 
 John and Pat, but never against any of the brethren who 
 came from the other side of the Tweed. Such of them as 
 were not translators, by degrees scraped up an intimacy 
 with me, and we went on well together; but with those 
 gentlemen over whom I was placed as supervisor, I could 
 do little or nothing. The Irishmen did the French and 
 Latin, the Scotchmen stuck to the Greek, in which they 
 boasted the most extraordinary proficiency, and a Welsh- 
 man was our great hand at Italian. The blunders which 
 each and all made were most ridiculous, and I could 
 scarcely blame the critics for their severity. But these 
 hacks would not and could not acknowledge its fairness. 
 With them, all such criticism was scoundrelism yet when 
 they themselves dabbled in it, they hunted out the very 
 same sort of defects, and held them and their makers up to 
 public mockery. At last the Irishmen rose up in wrath ; 
 and one of them said to me one day 
 
 " I tell you what, Mr. Smith, your delight in discovering 
 our bulls and blunders is very great, but, by my soul, I 
 never yet knew an Englishman, who, if he was born in 
 Ireland, wouldn't make as many bulls and blunders as the 
 very worst of us."
 
 282 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 "WHY don't you join our club?" said Savage, to me 
 one day ; " the expense is little, the fun great." 
 
 "What club?" I asked. "I never heard you were in a 
 club." 
 
 " Why, the Apollo Club, to be sure ; the club of all the 
 wits, poets and scholars." 
 
 " You have yourself supplied a reason why I don't join. 
 I belong to neither of these three great communities." 
 
 "Pooh, pooh, you'll do very well; I wish we had not 
 many duller dogs than you among us." 
 
 I bowed, and gravely thanked him for the compliment. 
 Savage looked confused. 
 
 No no," said he, " I didn't mean it in that way, drat 
 me. But come and join ; it will be good fun for you when 
 you are in the spleen." 
 
 " Where do you meet ? and what are the preliminaries ?" 
 
 " We meet once a month, in a very convenient house in 
 Clare Market, the sign of the Jolly Fiddlers. We have a 
 new President every night, and there are no preliminaries 
 but to be proposed and seconded. When your election 
 follows, you pay five shillings, and you take your place 
 among us, a regular son of Phoabus." 
 
 " I fear I shall do discredit to so bright a sire ; never- 
 theless, if 3 r ou wish it, I will see what sort of divinities 
 you are." 
 
 " And if you like us, you can join. Nothing can be 
 fairer, so be ready by next Friday night; our monthly 
 meeting will then take place. I shall call for you about 
 nine, and we shall go together. Bring the needful, alias 
 the price of your supper, which is eighteen pence ; what 
 you order besides in the way of drink or smoke will be an 
 extra. But we are generally sober fellows. And, by the
 
 EDWARD WORTLHY MONTAGU. 283 
 
 bye, I was near forgetting bring a good oak stick. It 
 may be useful." 
 
 I rather stared at this last article of costume, but a club 
 of wits must have their eccentricities, and this no doubt 
 was one. 
 
 The scene of our symposium was a large tavern in Clare 
 Market the delicacy was tripe ; the refreshment in the 
 way of liquor was strong beer. We walked up into a long 
 room, the whole centre of which was occupied by a table 
 spread with plates and glasses ; the cloth was coarse, and 
 not very white, but the worthy landlady, I suppose, con- 
 sidered these nice particulars beneath the notice of literary 
 gentlemen, whose thoughts are usually in the clouds of 
 heaven. A large chair was at the head of the table, and 
 here we already found seated Orator Henley, who had ap- 
 pointed himself pi-esident for the evening. Amongst the 
 motley crowd was Mr. John Dennis, Aaron Hill, Ward, the 
 author of the London Spj^ Archibald Bower, Curll, and 
 one of his poets, Pattison, whom he literally starved to 
 death, and who, indeed, died soon after ; these tripe nights, 
 I believe, being the only periods from month to month 
 when he had any food. Morgan, who sought to make all 
 his readers Mohammedans, and who published some funny 
 works on the subject : Concanen, a mad son of Hibernia, 
 and poor Jack Duuton, a broken-down bookseller, were 
 there ; hunger in their eyes, rags on their bodies. Came 
 also Charlie Gildon, who lodged at an ale house, in Long 
 Acre, kept by Bessie Cox, the frowsy Chloe of Mat Prior, 
 and whom that silly bard would have married had he not 
 been prevented by death ; Amhurst, the Caleb D'Anvers 
 of the Craftsman, Oldmixon, Boyer, Mat Green, of the 
 Custom House, Tibbald, who changed his name into the 
 more sonorous one of Theobald ; Dr. Martin and Russell, 
 the joint editors of the Grub Street Journal; Will Ayers, 
 who called himself a " Squire," Eustace Bridgel, and Mat
 
 284 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Tindal, whose will the first-named afterwards forged, to the 
 great indignation of the rightful heir ; and most ridiculous 
 of all, Figg, the prize-fighter, brought up the rear, but how 
 or why he got into this literary club, I knew not. We 
 formed altogether a harlequin group of about fifty, many 
 of whom were out at elbows the great majority evidently 
 at starvation point. At half-past nine, the smoking tripe 
 was produced ; by ten it had wholly disappeared, and there 
 were poor devils among us who seemed inclined to swallow 
 even the greasy plates, so ravenous was their appetite, and 
 so unusual the appearance of food. Pints and pots of 
 strong beer, stout October as it was called, were now 
 brought up, with pipes and tobacco, and Henley having 
 called to Figg to keep order, knocked on the table with a 
 little hammer, ordering silence and attention. 
 
 " Gentlemen," cried Henley, " are you all filled ?" 
 
 " No," shouted a score of voices, " we have drank only a 
 glass or so, and haven't had half as much tripe as we 
 ought." 
 
 " I meant your glasses, not yourselves, you sots," retorted 
 the orator. " Fill them, and listen." 
 
 This exhortation was joyfully obeyed. After a pause 
 the orator began. 
 
 " I am not going to begin with a text, nor shall I detain 
 you with a long preamble about the Ten Commandments, 
 every one of which I believe you have broken. I am about 
 to give you the health of the most renowned critic in Eng- 
 land, the best tragedian, and the finest political writer 
 need I name Mr. John Dennis ? His father was a decent 
 saddler, which probably accounts for the son's detestation 
 of mules and donkej's, (such as I see around,) and also 
 accounts for his own Pegasian flights to the highest sum- 
 mit of Parnasses. 1 don't believe there is much in the 
 tale that he was expelled from Gains for attempting to stab 
 a man in the dark for all poignard blows are generally
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 285 
 
 given in the open day, as Pope, Addison, and Steele, those 
 Three Impostors, can well testify ; but I do very well be- 
 lieve that fine and Spartan trait in Mr. Dennis's character, 
 which runs, I think, as follows. You all know I mean 
 have heard of the late Dick Steele. Well, in a magnan- 
 imous moment, when the wine was in, and the wit was out, 
 this Irish knight became bail for Mr. Dennis for some fifty 
 pounds. Steele, as may be supposed, was soon after ar- 
 rested for this sum ; our venerable brother was informed 
 of the fact. * Sdeath !' said he, ' what an ass he was ! Why 
 did he not keep out of the way, as I did ?' And with this 
 grand philosophical reflection well worth the whole sum 
 to Steele he allowed that unreflecting Samaritan to extri- 
 cate himself from the Philistines as well as he could. 
 Gentlemen, there was a moral grandeur about this which I 
 am sure you will all well appreciate. But Steele's conduct 
 in return I cannot well approve of. For while he affected 
 to forgive our friend for that heroic Stoicism which I have 
 already mentioned, he had the cruelty to cite in the ' Spec- 
 tator,' as one of the happiest couplets in the English lan- 
 guage, that famous stanza, in which Mr. Dennis describes 
 himself and his brother authors. The stanza is as follows : 
 
 '"Thus ope fool lolls his tongue ont at another, 
 And shakos his empty noddle at his brother.' 
 
 "Mr. Dennis, though proud, and justly, of being the 
 author of these admired verses, was conscious that he had 
 written others very much better ; and as he thought it was 
 a very mean piece of envy in Steele to suppress all mention 
 of those, while he so pompously cited the foregoing, he 
 wrote him a letter, breathing hot the noble indignation of 
 his soul ; and from that day until the death of Dick, those 
 mighty men continued foes. 
 
 " Gentlemen, Mr. Dennis has always been proudly jealous 
 of the high consideration due to men of letters. He was
 
 286 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 once invited to Lord Halifax's house, whom they call 
 Mouse Montagu, because I suppose he ratted from his 
 party, and Bufo, because he was as ugly as a toad, in soul 
 and body. Bufo was playing with a parrot, of which he 
 was extremely fond, it was so like himself, and not paying 
 that marked attention to our venerable Xestor which he 
 was conscious he deserved. 'My lord,' says he, 'as you 
 and your companion are so engaged in admiring each 
 other, I'll wait on you at some other opportunity.' Where- 
 upon, to the honor of literature, he left the scene of insult 
 a dignified and noble step, which, even if it stood alone, 
 deserves our eternal gratitude. Bufo did not stop him, 
 but laughed, and soon after invited him to supper. The 
 wine was good, and Mr. Dennis drank it may I be par- 
 doned, venerable Sage, for just hinting that thou didst 
 drink a little too much thereof? and just as he was main- 
 taining that Shakspeare was a scoundrel, and Pope 'as 
 stupid and venomous as a hunchbacked toad,' he received 
 rather a blunt contradiction from some vile led-captain of 
 my lord, who did not properly appreciate our Gerenian 
 knight. The blood of Phoebus took fire our noble brother 
 rushed out of the room, upsetting in his angry flight a 
 whole sideboard of bottles and glasses. Next day Mat 
 Moyle, one of the company, met him. Mr. Dennis told 
 him he remembered all that had happened up to a certain 
 point, but after that all was Lethe. ' And how did I get 
 away?' quoth he. 'Why,' says Moyle, 'you went away 
 like the devil, and took one corner of the house away with 
 you.' " 
 
 Here there was a general roar of laughter. Dennis, I 
 think, did not like the fun, but he sat still till we had 
 drank his health, which Savage did, with " one cheer more." 
 He then rose up. He was now very old, yet he retained 
 all the characteristics of his earliest years. His eye was 
 Binall and fierce ; he had a squab nose, like a prize-fighter's,
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 287 
 
 a mouth of iron, knitted eyebrows, a round chin, and a 
 low, narrow forehead. It was no wonder that such a man 
 should have a temper, involving him in perpetual squab- 
 bles. Pope, who always reminds me of a flea, he stung so 
 sharply, had but a day or two before given to the press 
 that shocking epigram on him which conveys the most 
 malignant poison* to the mind, and the old man had 
 evidently been brooding over it, for there was a volcano 
 of rage and fire suppressed within his angry bosom. He 
 looked as black and malignant as a scorpion. He had 
 eaten little for supper, but had smoked plentifully, and he 
 seemed to have come for solace to the place to be encour- 
 aged by some of the younger men, all of whom he knew 
 detested the hunchback of Twickenham. He was also, I 
 have been told, hiding from some creditors, who had set 
 the bailiffs after him, so that he was in the very humor 
 that Henley liked of all others inflammable as gunpowder 
 or naphtha ; and the relentless orator, it must be avowed, 
 had applied a very flaming match indeed to this dangerous 
 firework. 
 
 " Sir," said Dennis, " that you are a parson is your pro- 
 tection from my just indignation. I will not sully my 
 sacred hands by thrashing you ; parsons and women are 
 exempt from the anger of men. You have affected to pro- 
 pose my health, but you really have insulted me. So be 
 it. The moon regards not the yelping of the puppy when 
 he bays at her solemn light. My father was a saddler; 
 that is no disgrace had he been a parson, whose whole 
 life defamed his reverend calling, it would have been so. 
 
 * Should Dennis publish you had stabbed your brother, 
 Lampooned your monarch, or debauched your mother, 
 Say what revenge on Dennis can be hadt 
 Too dull for laughter, for reply too mad. 
 On one so poor you cannot take the law, 
 On one so old, yon scorn your sword to draw, 
 Uncaged then let the harmless monster rage, 
 Secure in dulness, madness, want, ami age.
 
 288 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 You accuse me of attacking Addison he was a smooth' 
 torigued hypocrite, as most of your cloth are ; of censuring 
 Steele he was an Irish rogue, as poor and drunken as 
 yourself; of vilifying Pope, who resembles you, for as you 
 delight in the butchers of Clare Market, so does he in 
 butchering every man. I suppose you think j^ourself a 
 scholar, and can judge of his Homer but you are not a 
 scholar; you are a dunce, a humbug, and ignoramus; 
 wherefore it has been well said of you 
 
 'O Orator with brazen-face and lungs. 
 Whose jargon's formed of ten unlearned tongues, 
 Why standest thou there a whole long hour haranguing, 
 When half the time fits better men for hanging?' " 
 
 Here there was a general smile, and Henley looked rather 
 sheepish for a moment. Dennis continued : 
 
 '* Sir, I shall always be proud of having been among the 
 first to expose that scribbling Papist. When I die, let it 
 be graven on my tomb, ' He defended the Great Prince of 
 Song from the vilest of his imitators.' For I aver, and let 
 none contradict me, that the Homer which Lintot prints, 
 does not talk like Homer at all, but like Pope ; and he who 
 translated him, one would swear had a hill in Tipperary 
 for his Parnassus, and a puddle in some bog for his Hip- 
 pocrene. But if we want further to know what this fellow 
 is, let us take the initial and final letters of his name, to 
 wit, A. P. E., and this gives you a true idea of the creature. 
 Pope comes from the Latin word Popa, which signifies a 
 little wart, or from Popysma, because he was continually 
 popping out squibs of wit, or rather Popysmata, or Popisius 
 so that when I think of him " 
 
 Here there was a general coughing ; for though the com- 
 pany hated Pope mortally, yet it was evident that Dennis 
 was about to give them a longer diatribe than they quite 
 liked, and the coxcombs were themselves each so anxious 
 to hear his own wit, that they listened with impatience to 
 any of their neighbors.
 
 KDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 289 
 
 " Pooh, pooh," says Aaron Hill, " we have had enough, 
 and more than enough of Pope." 
 
 Tuneful Alexis on the Thames' fair side, 
 The lady's plaything, and the muse's pride. 
 
 " But won't you allow me to speak, when I am attacked ?" 
 asked Dennis ; and his eyes seemed flames of fire. 
 
 " Nobody attacked you," said Boyer, " it was all fun." 
 
 " Fun to us, but death to the frogs," groaned Amhurst. 
 
 "Do you dare to call me a frog?" thundered out 
 Dennis. 
 
 " You're an old fool," bawled Gleig from the bottom of 
 the table. 
 
 "Then you ought to be my best friend here," retorted 
 Dennis, " for all fools are kinsmen." 
 
 " Cut it short," said Harry Gary, the author of ' Sally in 
 our Alley.' Poor Harry was a son of Saville, Marquis of 
 Halifax he hanged himself in the end, and left no more 
 good-natured man alive. Why do so many good fellows 
 hang themselves in this best of all possible worlds ? 
 
 " Aye, Mr. Dennis," put in Henley, " cut it short do, 
 please ; as short as your own temper." 
 
 There was no resisting this general outcry, so Dennis 
 was obliged to go on. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " you are all in league with that 
 scoundrel in the chair, and he is in league with Pope, 
 and Pope is in league with the Pretender, and the Pretender 
 is in league with the French and the whole of them against 
 me because I did them more harm than all the Duke of 
 Marlborough's battles ; but this will teach me never again 
 to sit in company with a parson, nor will I die with one 
 either." 
 
 " Faith, you can't help that," says an Irishman, " for I'v 
 a notion you'll die at Tyburn." 
 19
 
 290 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 This last sally produced fresh laughter, in the midst ol 
 which Dennis resumed his seat, trembling with fury. 
 
 " Gentlemen, and brother wits," says Henley, as cool as 
 Socrates himself when his wife threw a dirty pail over him, 
 " it is quite true that I am a parson, but that is more my 
 misfortune than my fault, and I hope it is not enough to 
 exclude me forever from the company of honorable men, 
 or virtuous women. For this I can say, that though a 
 parson, I am no hypocrite, nor did I ever stab a man in 
 the dark like some that I know. The Bishop indeed has 
 waved his atheistical hand over me, but though the episco- 
 pal touch like the money which Caiaphas gave Iscariot 
 generally gives entrance to a whole legion of devils, yet in 
 my case it was not so." 
 
 Here Dennis looked quite crestfallen. Henley begged his 
 pardon in a way irresistibly ludicrous, and we drank the 
 Orator's health with a gusto rather displeasing to the old 
 critic, who soon rose up, and in a silent rage, disappeared. 
 
 Here I ventured to put in a word. 
 
 "Gentlemen," I said, "as you have mentioned Steele, 
 allow me to suggest that his memory is deserving of honor 
 in any literary society more especially in one like ours, 
 many of whose members have been beholden to him." And 
 I told them, with a little variation, all that had happened 
 between myself and him. 
 
 "Aye," says another, "Dick was a fine, good fellow. I 
 was down in Wales when he died ; where, as it was said 
 
 ' From perils of a hundred jails, 
 Steele fled to starve and die In Wales.' 
 
 He retained his cheerful, happy temper to the last. When 
 he was so far gone that he could not walk, he would be 
 carried out of a summer's evening, when the country lads 
 and lasses were assembled at their rural sports ; and I have 
 seen him give one of his few guineas to buy a new gown 
 for the best dancer."
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 291 
 
 We drank his memory God bless him. I am now old, 
 and as hard as adamant itself; but I sometimes find the 
 tears in my eyes when I think of Steele. He was as wild 
 as Will-o'-the-Wist, but he was the only one amid the ras- 
 cally crew of what is called our Augustan age of poetry, 
 who had any human feeling. To have had even a glimpse 
 of him has helped to humanize me. What a jest it was to 
 make such an honest fellow Master of the Royal Company 
 of Comedians the greatest company of rogues and demi- 
 reps I suppose that ever were brought together out of St. 
 James's Palace. But even this funny berth he never could 
 have got had he not by some means got himself to be M. P. 
 for Wendover. 
 
 "Another bumper," cried Henley; "another full and 
 flowing bumper; and let me preface it with a story. When 
 I was in Scotland, last year, I found to my amazement that 
 there was nothing but rain, rain, rain. Rain in the hills, rain 
 in the valleys, rain in the lakes, rain in the streets, every- 
 where perpetual drizzle. The universal cloud and mist re- 
 minded me of Aaron Hill's tragedies, or John Oldmixon's 
 operas. At last I said to a fellow, ' My good sir, does it 
 always rain here ?' " 
 
 " ' Oh, dear nay,' answered the fellow, * it snaiva whiles.' 
 Now I found that it not only ' snawed,' but that it ' blawed,' 
 also and as I doubt not that it was in one of those Scotch 
 hurricanes our noble compotator MacAuley was 'blawed ' 
 here to us, I beg to propose his health and success, and 
 may his muse be always like his country's showers in per- 
 petual flow from Hel " 
 
 " Bravo," squeaked out Savage. 
 
 " Helicon, I should have said, only that you so imperti- 
 nently interrupted me," said Henley. " Mr. Savage, I fine 
 you a bottle ; you should not be too fond of reminding us 
 where you yourself come from." 
 
 "A bottle 1" says Savage ; " and where the deuce do you
 
 292 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 expect I shall get the money to pay for it ? If I were a 
 mountebank like you I could raise pence at will from the 
 butchers, but I have to depend on more unfeeling brutes 
 than they the booksellers." 
 
 " You know the law, Mr. Savage," said Henley, " and 
 you must either pay the fine, or give us an impromptu." 
 
 * Flow, Savage, flow, like thine insplrer beer, 
 Though, stale not ripe, though thin yet never clear ; 
 So sweetly mawkish, and so smoothly dull, 
 Heady not strong, o'erflowing though not full.' " 
 
 The orator repeated these lines with a mock-heroic imi- 
 tation of Pitt, irresistibly comical, and when he had done, 
 he again bawled out, " Now for the impromptu." 
 
 "An impromptu 1 an impromptu!" cried half-a-dozen, 
 who probably knew from experience of their own pockets 
 the impossibility of getting a bottle from Savage. 
 
 " On what subject ?" asked this hopeful scion of Lady M. 
 
 " A friend, a friend," said Henley ; " then we know you 
 can be severe. Let me see, Pope feeds you now and then 
 give us a stave about Pope." 
 
 "Aye, Pope Pope," echoed nearly all the company. 
 The bard had made them smart under his hoofs, and they 
 now gathered at his name like a nest of hornets. There 
 was no zest in satire on that subject from Dennis, but 
 Savage had been supported by Pope's bounty, and the 
 thing promised sport. 
 
 " Gentlemen," s&ye Savage, with a mock air of sadness, 
 " it is too bad for you to force me to attack my friend 
 and benefactor; but if I must, I must, and here goes." 
 And after musing a while, the grateful pensioner of Twick- 
 enham's imp began as follows : 
 
 "Oft* have I, moved with anger, seen 
 Sad object of envenomed spleen 
 A painted butterfly unfold 
 Its spangled wings bodropt with gold,
 
 BDWARD \YORTLEY MONTAGU. 293 
 
 And basking In a summer's day 
 The glories of its plumes display, 
 While issuing from his mazy cell 
 With rage replete, a spider fell." 
 
 "Hear, hear," says Hill, "that's Pope, I'll swear." 
 
 " Indignant views the pretty form, 
 And spits upon the painted worm, 
 So Pope of spiders kind and make" 
 
 w Hurrah! hurrah!" clamored half-a-dozen. 
 
 "A monstrous form, all legs and back, 
 Crawls hateful from his hole obscure. 
 Nor lovely object can endure, 
 But views with envy, pride and hato, 
 The shining honors of the great ; 
 Till squeezing forth his poisonous steam, 
 The subtle still malignant stream, 
 Blackens infectious as it flows; 
 Heroes and statesmen, belles and beaux, 
 He rails and bids the world despise 
 Whate'er his ugly soul outvies." 
 
 These verses were received with applause. Savage was 
 vain of them as an author, though I think somewhat 
 ashamed of them as a man. 
 
 "Are they, indeed, your own?" asked Aaron Hill. "I 
 think I have read them before." 
 
 "That is what everybody says of your rubbish," an- 
 swered Savage ; " though nobody is mad enough to doubt 
 it is your own." 
 
 "By St. Patrick," says one of the Irishmen, "nobody 
 else except himself could write as bad as Hill, even if he 
 was paid for it." 
 
 "Aye," says Gleig, " and we know what Leviticus says : 
 
 'Says MOSOH to his brother Aaron, 
 Your songs are bad and beyond bearing.' " 
 
 Poor Aaron, who was not at all prepared for this on- 
 slaught, remaino 1 } silent for the rest of the evening. 
 19
 
 294 ED WARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " And yet," says Concanen, " I own I feel anxious to see 
 his tragedy of Cinna, on which Rowe has written, 
 
 Hill for his precious sonl cares not a pin-a, 
 For be can now do nothing else but Cln-na.' " 
 
 "But we have not heard MacAuley's speech," says 
 Booth, the actor, who by some odd chance found himself 
 amid this troop of ragamuffins. 
 
 " Nay," says Mac, " I have no speech to make, bat I 
 should like to say a word or to." 
 
 " Hear 1 hear ! hear !" bawled Henley. 
 
 " Was any one present t'other night," asked our Scotch- 
 man, " when the orator was floored by two lads from Ox- 
 ford ?" 
 
 "Order! order! chair! silence!" roared Heuley. 
 
 "Tell us tell us !" bellowed out a dozen voices in reply. 
 
 " You know," cries Mac, " that our noble chairman has 
 covered the metropolis with posters, promising to give an 
 impartial decision on any question that may be discussed 
 before him at his Wednesday night meetings. Well, two 
 lads came before him a night or two ago I hear their 
 names were Selwyn and Parsons and argued at great 
 length, one in favor of Henley's ignorance, while the other 
 contended that impudence was his chief characteristic. 
 When the question came to be decided by the chair, I am 
 sorry to say, it was found empty, the universal genius 
 having sneaked off." 
 
 " It appears to me," says Morgan, " that these Oxford 
 bo3 r s treated our reverend friend as discourteously as Swift 
 did when he waited on him ; for they say he offered him 
 the dregs of a bottle of wine, saying that he always kept a 
 poor parson about him to drink up his dregs." 
 
 "Bravo! bravo!" cried Mac Auley. 
 
 A general titter went round the room ; the Scotchman
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 295 
 
 had avenged himself, and Henley looked black with fury. 
 Theobald got up. 
 
 " Mr. President," said he, " allow me to address you." 
 
 "About what?" demanded Henley, "haven't you suf- 
 ficiently exposed yourself?" 
 
 " How ? why ? when ? where ? explain ! order ! shame ! 
 chair! chair! chair! silence!" Such was the Babel of 
 sounds that greeted this question of the oratorical parson. 
 
 "Why," said Henley, "if Mr. Theobald had had the 
 good sense to remain silent, no one would have known that 
 he was drunk, or guessed that he was a pedant ; but he now 
 proposes by a speech to exhibit himself in both characters 
 at once. I hope, gentlemen, for the sake of our credit as a 
 club, we shall not permit this foil} 7 ." 
 
 " Henley, you dirty scoundrel of a parson !" began Theo- 
 bald ; but ere he could say another word, Henley beckoned 
 to Figg and said, " Now." 
 
 Figg at once rose, and making towards Theobald, carried 
 him down stairs, and having deposited him in the kennel, 
 (I hope,) came back as if there was nothing unusual in 
 such a trifle. This summary proceeding silenced some of 
 those who would have been refractory, but who after this 
 were prudent enough to be still. 
 
 " Gentlemen wits of high Olympian places," said Henley, 
 "it now devolves on me to propose the health of an illus- 
 trious and honored Poet, whose fate is not so splendid as 
 he deserves, but who will be regarded by all future ages as 
 the Naso, Lucan, perhaps even the Maro of the present. 
 I won't couple his name with that of the judge who tried 
 him, for the two should not be mentioned on the same Page ; 
 nor will I allude' to his right honorable dame, whose renown 
 will last while rivers run into the ocean, or the town of 
 Macclesfield produces savages. But this I will say, that of 
 all the bardic tribe that ever flourished, or rather faded in 
 the dusty groves of London, our celebrated composer
 
 296 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Richard Savage has the most right to fling all the dirt he 
 can collect upon that tipsy jade Miss Fortune. And never 
 has the caprice of that ill-favored harridan been more 
 clearly developed than in the harlequin career of our vaga- 
 bond I mean our wandering friend and brother, who from 
 the moment of his birth down to the present instant, when 
 he can scarcely be said to live at all, has been the flying 
 football for her incessant kicks." 
 
 "Hear, hear," shouted half a score of wits, poetasters 
 who envied or hated Savage ; and who had not a tenth of 
 his genius. 
 
 " Therefore," continued Henley, " I beg leave to propose 
 Richard Savage and his health, as our next and honored 
 toast." 
 
 We all drank it ; indeed we would have drank Satan's 
 health had it been given. The thing served as an excuse 
 for tossing off a pot. 
 
 " May he be promoted to the peerage," said one. 
 
 " Aye," answered another, " I should like to see him with 
 his hereditary coronet. He will do honor to the House of 
 Lords." 
 
 " And I hope he will impeach Page," said Warren. 
 
 " And spend his money on literature," added Butt. 
 
 "My lords and gentlemen," said Savage, rising gracefully 
 enough, for he was not drunk yet, " I thank you for this 
 high and unexpected honor. Pliny I think it was who 
 said that he could collect gold ex Enniano stercore. I also 
 have been equally happy in getting applause from a source 
 as dignified; I mean our reverend illustrious chairman, 
 and the noble wits by whom he is surrounded. I beg to 
 drink all your good healths," and he sat down. 
 
 This horrible sarcasm would probably have produced 
 bloodshed had it been understood ; but the great majority 
 of the assembled wits knew Latin only when it was made 
 plain to them by a dictionary, and the rest were perhaps
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 297 
 
 too drunk or indolent to resent what was a general rather 
 than an individual insult. Henley, of course, knew what 
 his friend intended to convey, but he was for once abashed, 
 and did not retort. After a pause of some minutes he 
 again rose. 
 
 "Gentlemen," quoth he, "I hope your glasses are all 
 filled ;" the company immediately replenished. 
 
 "I give you," says the orator, "the health of our great 
 literary patron, Henry Howard, Earl of Suffolk, an illus- 
 trious prose and poetical writer, great in Pastoral, greater 
 in Sapphicks, though I very much doubt whether a future 
 age will have the happiness of knowing any thing about 
 him." 
 
 "How can that be?" says Savage, "when his lordship 
 has nine living muses to inspire him ? each as chaste and 
 beautiful as those of Helicon itself." 
 
 " Explain, explain," shouted Henley. " I always thought 
 his only muse was ' Bysshe's Art of Poetry.' " 
 
 " I called on his lordship last week to, ahem to " 
 
 " Out with it," says Amhurst, "to solicit a subscription 
 to beg a guinea." 
 
 " To ask him whether in the last Craftsman the mad, the 
 silly, or the stupid element most predominated," added 
 Savage, apparently pursuing the same train of thought, 
 "when the Earl began to read some of his most impas- 
 sioned verses. He came to a passage something like this 
 
 ' But who can paint the splendors of her eyes 
 Which fill the Gods of Heaven with surprise, 
 And make Jove's lightning envious as it flies?' " 
 
 " Here he stopped and said, ' Mr. Savage, I am not like 
 most poets. I do not draw from ideal mistresses, I always 
 have my subject before me ;' and ringing for a footman, he 
 said ' Call up Fine Eyes.' A splendid vestal from Drury 
 Lane, Mother Holcombe's, or some such classic neighbor- 
 hood, appeared. ' Fine Eyes,' said my lord, ' look full on
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 this gentleman,' and he read some more of this nonsense 
 descriptive of her goggles. Another and another was 
 summoned, as neck, breast or arms came to be portrayed, 
 until I had seen all his Muses from head to foot, and com- 
 pared the living charms which they presented with those 
 which Lord Suffolk had described." 
 
 "And how much did you swindle the fool out of?" 
 asked JBower, when our chorus had subsided. 
 
 " I think I should have nailed him for a dedication fee, 
 but that he said you had sent to him a week before from 
 the Fleet, and his last available funds were expended in 
 releasing you," answered Savage, with fine coolness. 
 
 "I vow it would puzzle Satan," retorted Bower, "to find 
 which of you was the greater liar and rascal." 
 
 " Order, order, illustrious and noble writers," shouted 
 Henley, M don't let us quarrel over such a dunce as this. 
 I remember seeing one of his plays in manuscript. It was 
 a glorious tragedy, such as Tibbald should write notes on, 
 in which Charles the Second played the chief character. 
 After the battle of Worcester, seeking shelter at the hut 
 of an old woman, the royal fugitive was accosted as fol- 
 lows : * Why, you black, tawney-faced, lanthorn-jawed, 
 charcoal-browed, wide-mouthed, long-nosed, lath-backed, 
 spindle-shanked ninny ' which it must be owned was an 
 accurate description enough. But that rogue Colley 
 wouldn't play it, and so I think we had, therefore, better 
 proceed to the next toast on my list. Gentlemen, fill fill, 
 replenish grandly, plentifully and bounteously, until we 
 resemble the happy fly of Rabelais. If there was any one 
 here who knew Latin, I would say : 
 
 In cyatho vini plena cum muica periret 
 Sie ait Den*tw, tponteperire velim.'" 
 
 Here a tumult arose among the translators, who were 
 indignant at this reflection on their classical lore.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 299 
 
 "Why, faith, gentlemen," says Henley, "seeing that 
 not one of you knows English, I could scarcely suppose 
 you knew Latin but fill full. I give you the health of 
 Archibald Bower, Esq., late a Jesuit and lover of the pretty 
 nun of Perugia ; though I regret much, for the sake of the 
 cloth, that the scandal was found out. Hip, hip, hurrah !" 
 
 " I don't see why you should regret it," says Sparrow, 
 one of our translators, "as the discovery of the amour 
 caused him to come among us, and shine so brightly in 
 the literary world. 
 
 4 Parnassus has a mighty flower, 
 Which Phoebus saw and christened Bower.' * 
 
 " Aye, faith," says Milwood, another poor hack, " but I 
 think he didn't shine so well in that affair of Lj'ttletou." 
 
 " What affair ?" demanded half-a-dozen voices. Bower 
 got very uneasy, and I think if he had been near Milwood 
 he would have choked him. But the latter knew Bower's 
 temper, and took care to be a good distance away from 
 him, otherwise I am sure he would not have opened his 
 lips. 
 
 " Gentlemen," says Bower, hastily, " this story about 
 Lyttleton is a lie." 
 
 " What story ?" says the orator, " I didn't hear any yet." 
 
 " Caught, caught fairly caught," roared Savage. 
 
 " Why, then," shouted Bower, " you are all a parcel of 
 low-bred rogues if you won't believe me, and I won't dis- 
 grace myself any longer by sitting in your company." 
 And he left the room in great dudgeon. We could hear 
 his curses as he rolled down stairs. 
 
 " Now then, Milwood," says the orator. 
 
 "Why this Jesuit bragged everywhere that he had writ- 
 ten a poem called Blenheim, and as it was a pretty thing 
 he got some applause. The next time he waited on his
 
 300 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 patron Lyttleton, he said to Bower, 'But Mr. Bower, is 
 this true what I hear that you wrote Blenheim ?' 
 
 " ' Yes, indeed, sir,' says the Scotchman, ' I did, and I 
 hope you like it.' 
 
 " ' And how long did it take you, Mr. Bower, to spin so 
 fine a work ?' 
 
 " ' Oh ! sir, I did it all at one sitting.' 
 
 " ' I should like to see the original manuscript,' said the 
 patron. 
 
 " ' You certainly shall, sir ; and when next I call I will 
 bring it.' 
 
 "Lyttleton turned to Pope, who was present, saying, 
 * What do you think of this ? Our friend here doesn't know 
 that I wrote the poem myself.' How Bower got out of the 
 room report saith not ; but as he still understraps for Lyt- 
 tleton, and does his dirty I mean his political work, I 
 suppose he has forgiven him." 
 
 "Hurrah!" sa} r s Henley. "Archie did well to take his 
 leave, though I doubt it would be no easy matter to make 
 his Scotch hide wear a blush. Another bumper, gentlemen ; 
 fill full, and drink the conjoined healths of Squire Milwood 
 and Squire Amhurst. I know no man since the days of 
 Teofilo Folingi who knows Latin better than the first ; and 
 none since the era of Thersites who can reason like the 
 second. They are indeed Arcades ambo which I have 
 heard translated, though I won't say how." 
 
 Poor Milwood, and still poorer Amhurst, who was great 
 only with his pen, were both fairly knocked on the head by 
 these compliments. They could not speak a word, but 
 seemed verily bursting with shame. So we drank to them 
 without calling for a speech. 
 
 In this manner Henley proceeded until nearly every 
 member of this gay and brilliant company had smarted 
 under his tongue. I could see rage gathering and growing 
 into boiling heat, and was anxious to escape before matters
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 801 
 
 came to a crisis. The club was now, indeed, more than 
 half-drunk. Henley's eyes twinkled, and he began to get 
 more personal and savage. At last he singled out a Scotch- 
 man, who had sat in terrible silence ever since Bower's 
 discomfiture, and was evidently meditating vengeance for 
 the insult to his countryman. 
 
 "Now then, Scotchman," said the orator, "give us a 
 song. I'm tired of having to do all this talk." 
 
 The Scotchman made no answer, but rising up he rushed 
 at Henley, and hit him between the eyes with all his force. 
 The blow took effect, and knocked him over. 
 
 There was a general uprising, in the midst of which an 
 Irish bard, whose blood was at fever-heat, and who had 
 evidently been long panting for a battle, jumped up and ex- 
 claimed, " Fighting at last thank God !" whereupon he 
 struck out right and left with a noble disregard of any 
 consideration but the exquisite luxury of inflicting blows. 
 The pommelling now became general. Figg, like a lion 
 aroused, rushed into the conflict; the lights were extin- 
 guished ; there was a common rush towards the chair not, 
 I fear, to protect it, but to give vent to their long concealed 
 frenzy and revenge on the unfortunate tenant in possession ; 
 sticks rattled, and glasses were smashed I now knew why 
 Savage had counselled me to bring a cudgel groans, 
 threats, and curses were intermingled, and I escaped, 
 luckily, with whole bones, getting free just as the night 
 watch entered to convey the ringleaders to the round-house, 
 where, I fear, they fared but badly until next morning. 
 
 How it really ended I never inquired ; and this sickened 
 me for the rest of my days with literary clubs and coteries, 
 which I found to be only hotbeds of falsehood and defam- 
 ation. Savage did not come near me for some weeks. Even 
 he was ashamed of the rapscallions to whom he had intro- 
 duced me, and when we did meet he made no allusion to 
 the fray.
 
 802 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 ONE day, about a week after this, Curll sent for me. I 
 found him in a small room behind his shop. He took me 
 by the hand as I entered. 
 
 " Mr. Smith," he said, " I have had an offer made to me 
 by a noble lord of a sum of money not very much, by 
 Jove, sir, but still it is money, by Jove, sir." 
 
 Here he looked at me very hard, and seeing that I in- 
 quired as plainly as I could with my eyes how much it 
 was, he added 
 
 " A hundred pounds, which I propose to divide equally 
 between us. The consideration for which it is to be paid 
 is this: you are aware of the approaching election for the" 
 borough of Bilgewater? Great excitement is kindled on 
 both sides ; it is rather a question between two rival houses 
 for one of the candidates is secretly backed by Pulteney 
 than between opposite political factions. Money will be 
 spent, by Jove, sir, and votes will be procured, no matter 
 how. The noble individual who has applied to me is de- 
 termined to win ; and he wants me to get him some sharp, 
 shrewd, clever fellow, by Jove, sir, who can compose squibs, 
 ballads, and broadsides, write letters, and if need be, pen a 
 pamphlet during the squabble. He will also probably have 
 to see after the doubtful electors, and make himself gener- 
 ally useful, by Jove, sir, at the place. I think there is no 
 one of my staff on whom I can so fairly depend as on your- 
 self for these varied qualifications ; and now what do you 
 say, by Jove, sir?" 
 
 What could I say? I had only five shillings in the 
 world at the time, and but little prospect of an immediate 
 increase. Fifty pounds was like the mines of Potosi. 
 
 " Mr. Curll," I replied, " I suppose I must do as you 
 wish. It is a sort of work to which I am new, and I fear
 
 EDWABD WORTLBY MONTAGU 803 
 
 I shall play my part but indifferently in it. However, 
 needs must when the devil or a noble lord drives and so 
 I am at your service." 
 
 "I am very glad you see it in so sensible a point of 
 view, by Jove, sir," answered my patron; "you need not 
 be much alarmed, though you are a novice ; you will not 
 be alone in the work, but shall have a couple of compan- 
 ions, who are up to all this sort of thing, and will enlighten 
 you fully upon these masonic matters." 
 
 " And pray who may these gentlemen be, Mr. Curll ?" 
 
 " Well, they are rather loose characters, but useful, use- 
 ful, by Jove ! sir, when work turns up. The first we will 
 call The Cannibal. His real name is Rooke ; but he is so 
 horribly ugly and fierce, that he has acquired this pleasant 
 nickname. He is the secretary of the bribing committee 
 
 at , and will do most of that sort of work, which is a 
 
 little too dirty for his employers. When a deluge of cor- 
 ruption for I speak frankly to you, Mr. Smith is to be 
 poured upon some unlucky town, the Cannibal, by Jove ! 
 sir, is called into requisition, and as he is an adept, the 
 greatest confidence is reposed in his tricks and schemes. 
 Tie has done more bribing than any man in England ; and 
 there is not an electioneering dodge, device, or fraud, by 
 Tove ! sir, in which he is not well skilled. He it was who 
 invented the grand mysteries of 'hocussing,' 'bottling,' 
 'buying cats,' and 'polling dead men;' and when his friends 
 come in, they will probably make him a judge in one of 
 our plantations, or something else equally dignified, in re- 
 ward for his invaluable services, by Jove ! sir." 
 
 Need I say how glad I felt at the approaching happiness 
 of knowing such an illustrious character ? Curll continued : 
 
 " The other gent we call Shaveley Bill. It is a sort of 
 travelling name, such as the knowing 'uns, by Jove, sir, 
 use at race-courses and prize-fights. He will do the show- 
 man's part at the election. He can speak for twenty-four
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 hours by Shrewsbury clock, and there will be nothing in it 
 but words, words, words; but, by Jove! sir, they sound 
 like tinkling brass ; when he sees the attention of his audi- 
 ence flagging, he will introduce something broad, fat, and 
 nasty, and make them laugh, by Jove ! sir, but whether at 
 his filth, or his folly, he don't much care. This gets votes, 
 and this, by Jove ! sir, is his vocation. He can laugh like 
 a horse, and tell lies like an Austrian ambassador; you 
 should have seen him at Coventry last election; he can 
 drink, smoke, and jollify with the greatest blackguards in 
 their own style. He, like the Cannibal, is looking out for 
 a comfortable berth, and he was last year secretary to a 
 sham committee for an Oxford election, in which a noodle 
 lordling was put up against a statesman, so that he will 
 work indefatigably, by Jove ! sir, and he may possibly get 
 you into something good, such as a footman's place, with 
 the prospect of a pension. Indeed, I have no doubt this 
 business will be one of the best introductions into public 
 life that you can possibly have and after all, my dear 
 Mr. Smith, though literature is a fine thing, (here he put 
 his hand upon his nose, and cried ' fudge,') nothing pays 
 like politics, by Jove 1 sir. Brains command their price, 
 to be sure, but then a man's soul is of more worth to a poli- 
 tician ; and the ablest head in England, by Jove ! sir, tells 
 only for just as much in the House on a division, as the 
 vilest dunce, who having no talent to dispose of, sells his 
 soul to the minister, and gets a bribe, or a baronetcy for 
 his compliance, by Jove ! sir." 
 
 Little as I had seen of the active world of life, I had be- 
 held enough to convince me that, in this at least, Curll 
 spoke accurately, and I asked myself in disgust and sur- 
 prise, why in the name of heaven was man formed and the 
 earth framed in this goodly fashion, if nothing else is to be 
 transacted upon it but rascality like this ?
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 805 
 
 The bookseller guessed my thoughts ; and grinned at iny 
 inexperience. 
 
 "Well," he said, "to be sure it is a shabby mode of 
 getting on in life, but if the good men, by Jove ! sir, won't 
 do it, why the blackguards will ; and would it not be bad, 
 Mr. Smith, if all the fine things on earth belonged only to 
 the knaves and vagabonds, by Jove ! sir ?" 
 
 Curll gave me a note to the Cannibal, whom I found in a 
 fashionable street at the West end of London. He had 
 just before married a farmer's ugly daughter ; but he got 
 five hundred a year settled on himself by the father, who 
 would not have given a shilling to save any fellow-Christian 
 from starvation ; and his wife dying off in six months, the 
 man-eater was now as free and merry as a baboon. He sat 
 in a room surrounded by looking-glasses, and was contem- 
 plating with Narcissus-like delight the ugliest countenance 
 ever made since Judas ; for his eyes were not fellows, but 
 one squinted upwards towards his eyebrow, while the other 
 glanced askew over his shoulder, as if on the look-out for 
 a bailiff; his face was pitted all over with the small-pox, as 
 if Satan had been playing the devil's tattoo upon it when 
 it was first moulded and was yet soft ; and he looked ex- 
 actty like Thersites, whom he resembled also in all mental, 
 moral, and physical qualifications. I presented my note. 
 
 " Mr. Smith," said my new acquaintance, in a hoarse, 
 guttural voice, such as an imp in the influenza would use, 
 "you have come in good time. I am just going off 
 to Lord Chesterfield, who takes a great interest in this 
 election, and who, indeed, is to be the medium through 
 which the money comes. I scarcely know whether I ought 
 to take you to his lordship, but I will run the risk. There 
 must be no humbug between him and me, or you either. 
 He wants us just now, and he must have us so come 
 along." 
 20
 
 806 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 We proceeded to Grosvenor Square, where this noble 
 statesman then lived. We found him surrounded by all 
 the appliances of splendid and luxurious wealth. His 
 house was a temple of the arts. He was short, with coarse 
 features, and a cadaverous complexion, long-visaged, and 
 long-necked ; but from the shoulders to the waist so stunted 
 that he gave you the notion of a grenadier cut down. 
 There was an appearance of self-conceit about him that 
 was very sickening ; his eyes showed an immense depth of 
 dissimulation, and his forehead was utterly deficient in any 
 moral quality. It was the head and body of an ouran-out- 
 ang, but an ouran-outang of great subtlety. I had by this 
 time begun to read the handwriting of nature upon every 
 man, and I knew what sort of a mammal was now 
 present. 
 
 Yet this varlet was thought to be the finest gentleman 
 of the time. From this you may judge what its gentlemen 
 were. 
 
 " Bully Rooke," said Lord Chesterfield, " I am glad you 
 are come. Who is your friend ?" 
 
 My companion handed his lordship the note which I had 
 brought from Curll, and that illustrious peer, having read 
 it, turned to me with a knowing look. " Mr. Smith," he 
 said, "I find you can be trusted. This election must be 
 won, ' by hook or by crook,' and I believe if you and Mr. 
 Rooke work cordially we may mark down the place as our 
 own." 
 
 I bowed, and said 
 
 " My lord, I will do what I can ; I have no doubt all will 
 be right." 
 
 The peer stared at me. 
 
 " I don't know," he said, " what you mean by ' right ;' 
 but, Mr. Smith, I know that this election must be won. 
 Walpole will go wild if that dirty fellow Pulteney gets his 
 man in. The fact is the spread of baseness and rascality
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 307 
 
 is so much enlarged that every barrier is needed to stay 
 the advancing tide, and so long as we can command a 
 majority in the House of Commons for we are always 
 sure of the Lords so long will every thing be safe. As, 
 therefore, the salvation of the whole empire depends upon 
 the condition of this branch of the legislature, it follows, 
 logically, that no means must be left untried to secure this 
 great and splendid result. I believe not only that the end 
 justifies the means, but that the means justify the end. 
 Indeed no man can pretend to be a statesman who does not 
 hold botli as the very principal foundation of his polity. 
 Is not this your notion, my good Doctor ?" 
 
 And Lord Chesterfield turned to a solemn, shallow-look- 
 ing individual in black, whom I afterwards ascertained to 
 be Dr. Young, and who was then in the beginning of that 
 career of desperate sycophancy which won for him in a short 
 time, from his noble patrons, the lavish wealth in which he 
 rolled. 
 
 " My dear and noble lord,'' answered Dr. Young, " your 
 lordship speaks now with the same consummate wisdom 
 and truth which distinguishes every sentiment which falls 
 from your lips. The greatest statesmen have always acted 
 upon this principle which your lordship has so beautifully 
 and tersely enunciated, and I have no doubt they will so 
 continue to act until the consummation of all things. Nor, 
 indeed, could affairs of moment be conducted otherwise; 
 and it augurs well for the future of our happy land that 
 such illustrious ornaments of the nobility as your lordship 
 should maintain and act upon axioms which may be truly 
 called the amulets of wisdom herself." And the reverend 
 gentleman smiled and bowed obsequiously. 
 
 " But, sir," I ventured to put in, " I had always thought 
 it was only the Jesuit order who preached and practised 
 the maxim you have alluded to." 
 
 Young looked at me with profound contempt. I was
 
 308 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 shabbily dressed, and evidently poor of purse the two 
 superlative degrees of baseness and abomination in the 
 eyes of this paragon of parsons. He did not even deign 
 to answer, but curled his lip and grinned at his lordly 
 patron, with a supercilious glance at myself and a servile 
 smile of adulation upon the peer, which were absolutely 
 loathsome to look upon. Chesterfield himself regarded me 
 as one regards some prattling child or braying ass, but, 
 unlike Young, he was too well bred to treat any one with 
 scorn. 
 
 " My good Mr. Smith," asked he, " how long have you 
 been under the guidance of our esteemed friend Rooke here ? 
 I should have thought you would have learned better under 
 such excellent auspices." 
 
 "My lord," said the Cannibal, "I am wholly unanswer- 
 able for Mr. Smith, or his cursed follies in this respect, for 
 I never saw him until this day." 
 
 Lord Scarborough was now announced. He was a 
 thick, vulgar looking man, but not destitute of a certain 
 intellectual development. Like his friend Chesterfield, he 
 prided himself on infidelity; prated about Plato with a 
 shallow flippancy; aped Yoltaire, who had been in England 
 a short time before, and had set the wits of half the peerage 
 astray with his monkey skepticism and frog-like grimace ; 
 and having learned to laugh at all true religion, was of 
 course a very apt tool for such a minister as Sir Robert 
 Walpole. 
 
 " My dear friend," cried Chesterfield, calling a smile into 
 his j'ellow features, as I have seen the sun playing on an 
 Eg}-ptian mummy, " I am enchanted to see you. You have 
 come about the election at Bilgewater, I suppose. Well, I 
 think we shall be all right in that quarter. These two gen- 
 tlemen here," and he pointed to the Cannibal and myself, 
 " are about most kindly to take a great deal of trouble off
 
 EDWARD WORTLKY MONTAGU. 309 
 
 our hands, and I have no doubt they will manage all things 
 perfectly in order." 
 
 "I have just left Sir Robert," answered Scarborough, 
 " and he feels great anxiety on the subject indeed, he sent 
 me direct to you. He will be glad to hear your report, and 
 I think I can't do better than to return and let him know." 
 
 "No, no," answered Chesterfield, "let him wait. At 
 present I would rather you stayed. The grand question 
 is, whether the end justifies the means, and the means jus- 
 tify the end." 
 
 "Wh}', that has been settled long ago," said Scar- 
 borough, " of course they do ; every thing is fair in war, 
 love, or politics ; and Jove does not more certainly laugh 
 at lover's perjuries than the country does at the perjuries 
 of elections." 
 
 Dr. Young fell into hysterics of delight at this sally. I 
 really thought he would have fallen off his chair. A parson 
 laughing at a great man's joke is a spectacle. 
 
 "Pooh, pooh," said Chesterfield, "Jove is nothing at 
 all in these cases." 
 
 Vagrant as I had been, and living among vagabonds, I 
 had not been used to this species of blasphemous wit, and 
 I really began to get frightened. For the moment I began 
 to think I was not on the earth at all. The nonchalance, 
 however, of these two noble lords encouraged me. Surely 
 the fires of Sodom and Gomorrah would not dare to fall 
 down on Grosvenor Square while they were within its pre- 
 cincts, and Schulenberg was living next door. In such 
 company I felt that I was safe. Heaven could not be so 
 mean-minded as to sweep away in a horrid brimstone 
 shower, Philip, Earl of Chesterfield, and Lumley, Baron 
 Scarborough. As it turned out, I was right in my sur- 
 mise. Grosvenor Square still flourishes. 
 ******** 
 
 Why pursue the theme ? The reader may judge for him- 
 20
 
 310 EDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 
 
 self from these samples the kind of learned and philo- 
 sophical discourse which prevailed. The world has since 
 had the inestimable advantage of perusing Lord Chester- 
 field's private thoughts on morality, religion, deceitfulness 
 and dancing ; and though the public benefit has not per- 
 haps been so great as might have been hoped for, still the 
 public must be grateful for any thing that fell from the 
 mouth or pen of so great, so wise, so noble, and so good a 
 man. Suffice it to say, that every thing that passed was 
 as witty and profound as- that which the reader has just 
 read; and that the two peers and the parson strove to 
 out-do each other in educing prototypes of their own purity 
 in religion and politics from the most noted characters in 
 sacred or profane history. My cannibal companion occa- 
 sionally joined in, but the three were so deeply interested 
 in their speculations, that they took but little notice of him. 
 
 At last the Bully interrupted them : 
 
 "There is one matter," he said, "which I had almost 
 forgotten we must get Hogden." 
 
 "Who is be?" says Lord Chesterfield. 
 
 " Well," answered the Bully, " I hardly know. He is 
 the best hand at bribery, after myself. He has already 
 been the means of disfranchising one borough, which he 
 corrupted by giving a shilling a piece for bloated herrings, 
 and the whole place was in a state of drunkenness, riot, 
 blasphemy, debasement, and debauchery for a month. This 
 is the way to win elections, my lord. Since then they call 
 him ' The Bloater,' and he is like one. He and the noto- 
 rious Ganderbill hunt in couples ; but Ganderbill is now in 
 difficulties, and we can't get him, so we must content our- 
 selves with Hogden. All that humbug can do, he will do ; 
 his motto is, l Go in and win, cost what it may ;' and he 
 trusts to the chapter of accidents to secure what he has 
 won." 
 
 " We must certainly have Aim," says Scarborough.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 311 
 
 And so it was agreed. We found him at a pot-house, 
 on our way down a short, fat, vulgar fellow, with a gold 
 chain ; very greasy, and smelling nastily, like an unsound 
 codfish. I took care that he never came between me and 
 the wind. He was the exact realization of Dryden's pic- 
 ture of the bookseller, Jacob Tonson 
 
 44 With leering look, bull-faced, and codlike stare, 
 With two left-legs, and Jud'as-colored hair, 
 And frowzy pores that taint the ambient air." 
 
 But he was a grand chap for all that. The beauty of 
 his tactics was this : he made it a habit to go about every- 
 where, and say that he abhorred bribery, and that if a 
 shilling corruptly spent could return his man to parlia- 
 ment, he would not give it. As soon as he had been at 
 this talk for five minutes, he thrust a handful of gold into 
 the pocket of the voter, and with a wink and his blessing 
 departed to play the same game with the next. This trick 
 he learned from our House of Commons itself, which 
 always preaches against corruption ; while, tall bully as it 
 is, it never fails to protect every scoundrel briber it can ; 
 and if a fellow like Hogden could by any trick become one 
 of its members, it would support him even though a thou- 
 sand committees, or commissioners, reported him guilty 
 of the crime, which all its hypocritical members pretend to 
 look at with horror. 
 
 But did they not expel Walpole? asks some amazed 
 reader, for an offence of the same kind. They did, my dear 
 friend ; but the parliament of Queen Anne was honesty it- 
 self compared to the rogues that now constitute the lower 
 house, though it did not profess half so much. 
 
 After a long interview Bully and I rose to take our 
 leave. As we did so, Lord Chesterfield handed to Rooke 
 a leathern bag. 
 
 " Mr. Rooke," said he, " this bag contains two thousand 
 guineas ; there will be two thousand more ready before the
 
 812 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 end of the week. The number of electors I think is four 
 hundred ; we must have at least three hundred on our side. 
 You may corrupt the men, seduce their wives, debauch 
 their sisters, and promise to marry their daughters ; if no 
 other means succeed, empty the jails of imprisoned voters, 
 and fill the jails with such as are in debt ; distribute ' sugar' 
 as lavishly as may be ; in a word, stick at nothing, so that 
 our man wins. Let this be your morning prayer and mid- 
 night orison this election must be gained at all hazards. 
 Now give me a receipt." 
 
 The Cannibal, who was a wag in his way, received the 
 bag, and handed Lord Chesterfield the following memo- 
 randum : 
 
 " GROSVENOR SQUARE. 
 
 " Received from the Rt. Hon. Lord Chesterfield the sum 
 of two thousand guineas, to be expended in the purchase 
 of three hundred English souls; and to be repaid with in- 
 terest on the Day of Judgment. 
 
 " BULLY ROOKE, 
 " Chief Chaplain to the Devil." 
 
 His lordship read the document, and smiled. Turning 
 with his most fascinating grin to Dr. Young, he said 
 
 "My dear doctor, I perceive that Mr. Rooke calls him- 
 self your chaplain but the title is premature, for you are 
 not yet an Archbishop, though quite ripe enough for any 
 mitre;" upon which he bowed us out 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ANIMATED by the sublime and noble sentiments which 
 we had the advantage of thus hearing from this inimitable 
 ornament of the peerage, we took our leave and proceeded
 
 EDWARD WORTLKY MONTAGU. 313 
 
 to Fetter Lane, from which we took coach to Bilgewater. 
 The Cannibal was in high glee ; his cock eye gleamed with 
 a cat-like lustre ; he put his "hand repeatedly on the pocket 
 which contained my lord's golden prescription, and as he 
 felt it safe and sound, a gratified smile crept over big 
 rugged features, as I have seen the torch-light play upon 
 the boulders of the sea beach. At the end of the first 
 stage we took up Shaveley Bill, a tall, awkward-looking 
 customer, with tow-colored whiskers, mean, cowardly, 
 malignant features, and an eye full of malevolence, cun- 
 ning, and envy, badly concealed by an affectation of bluff 
 honesty which deceived many, but could not blind me. 
 This genius was at present rather under a cloud ; Rooke 
 and he had been old pals, and the former put the present 
 job in his way. The two interchanged some hieratic sig- 
 nals which I could not understand, and held a private con- 
 versation, apparently on matters too delicate for the public 
 ear, but I did not much heed what they were about, having 
 fallen into a reverie of thought on the scene which I had 
 just witnessed. Here were two men of patrician birth, 
 with large fortunes, good health, and sound brains, and all 
 that could make life pleasant, hereditary legislators in our 
 happy land; yet they were so thoroughly impregnated 
 with baseness, villany, and corruption, as to be wholly in- 
 sensible to any truth, any virtue, any excellence, and to 
 live only for the gratification of vile and selfish desires, 
 which they were not ashamed, but indeed gloried to avow. 
 What wonder could it be if Savage and fellows of that 
 class, who had never known what it was to possess a ten 
 pound note that they could fairly call their own, were so 
 low and lost when men of this high rank were utterly dead 
 to all decency ? I have seen young fellows of eighteen or 
 twenty, young women with babies at their breasts, hanged 
 week after week at Tyburn who had stolen only a few shil- 
 lings, or a few yards of ribbon ; who had probably been
 
 814 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 guilty, at the worst, of only mere recklessness, the result 
 of tipsy jollity, or boyish folly, or thoughtless indiscretion, 
 and who had generous hearts, courage, faith, and truth in 
 all ordinary matters, while the ribald mob rejoiced to see 
 them die, and my lords the king's judges, those scarlet 
 colored beasts, as an old Quaker once called them, pro- 
 nounced their sentences to be right and well-merited, as 
 they adjourned to the corporation turtle soup and punch 
 up-stairs at the Old Bailey. But here were two whom the 
 world impudently called noblemen, and the law shame- 
 lessly pronounced right honorable, yet who in all respects 
 but an open violation of the statutes of their country 
 were as consummate scoundrels as ever swung upon the 
 gallows tree. Here they were luxuriating like pigs in their 
 filthiness, unconscious of their degradation, and half wor- 
 shipped by admiring hundreds, perhaps thousands of per- 
 sons, who thought themselves clever, and candid, and 
 discriminating. When I looked up and saw my two ugly 
 companions engaged in carrying out the same kind of 
 manoeuvres as those in which these eminent personages 
 were plotting, I began to despise and loathe myself for 
 being involved in such foul proceedings, and was half in- 
 clined to jump off the coach and walk back to London as 
 poor as I left it ; but I was almost starving, and I had not 
 bravery enough poor wretch that I was to resist the 
 fiend ; so I stayed on. A base excuse, I own, but it is the 
 true one. 
 
 We were now, indeed, engaged on one of the most ras- 
 cally errands that can be imagined ; we were about to cor- 
 rupt the electors of an important borough, to vote black 
 white, and white black; and by returning to parliament 
 not the man best suited to make laws for this imperial isle, 
 or to advise on state policy, but the most dirty, low, or 
 piggish knave who bribed them best, we were about to 
 poison law and right at their very foundations ; and intro-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 815 
 
 ducc discord, dishonesty, and the certain seeds of disso- 
 lution to the whole empire. For as the franchise is a trust 
 reposed in one man by several, and as upon the votes of a 
 very few people the administration of the whole land de- 
 pends, it follows that there is no responsibility on earth 
 greater than that which thus enables a man to send a repre- 
 sentative to the House of Commons ; for the casting vote 
 of that very representative may influence our destinies for- 
 ever; as, in fact, it did in the Habeas Corpus Act when 
 passing through the House ; it may plunge us into a war 
 that will entail ruin. It may involve us in a dispute with 
 powerful neighbors or aspiring colonies that will involve 
 the lives of thousands of men, the happiness of babes and 
 mothers, and wives and sisters; the destinies of unborn 
 millions, and the destruction of blood and treasure to an 
 incalculable amount. And our late war with Spain, and 
 our present contests with the colonies in America, are a 
 striking proof of what I have said ; for they include within 
 them as much sanguinary wickedness as ever was perpe- 
 trated on earth ; but they have got the sanction of Parlia- 
 ment, and all is therefore as correct as possible. 
 
 We got to Bilgewater late in the evening. We found 
 that Hogden was well known there, he and Ganderbill 
 having operated largely at the last election : both had been 
 reported to the House for corruption and mal-practice ; but 
 the House thought it was a joke, laughed, said a few words 
 to humbug the lieges, and went to something else, which 
 also ended in a bottle of smoke. This is what always 
 happens. The Red Lion, which was the head hotel, had 
 been engaged for us beforehand, and we were ushered into 
 the presence of the Hon. Thomas Vere Cavendish Plan- 
 tagenet, eldest son and heir of Lord Rollo de Bayeux, and 
 at the present moment one of the aspiring candidates in 
 whose interests we were engaged. The Hon. Thomas was 
 a small, mean-looking wretch, with a 1'ttle head, a receding
 
 316 EDWARD WOETLET MONTAGU. 
 
 brow, the eyes and face of a polecat, and a soul and mind to 
 correspond; but his noble father had thirty thousand a 
 year. The right honorable Lord Rollo de Bayeux carried 
 gold candlesticks for his Majesty King George the Second, 
 walking all the while backward, but with his face turned to 
 that glorious monarch ; he brought him waste paper, fetched 
 his tobacco, carried billets of sweetness to his mistresses, 
 or those whom he wanted to be so, and submitted to be 
 kicked by the royal foot, and damned by the royal tongue 
 when his Majesty was dyspeptic, or was out of temper 
 with one of his German frows. For this dignified employ- 
 ment he drew about twelve hundred a year wages, and had 
 the privilege of basking in the celestial sunshine of the 
 coifrt. 
 
 The opponent of the honorable Thomas was worthy of 
 the town which he came to represent, and the honest people 
 whom he proposed to buy. He was a dirty broker from 
 the city of London, of the name of Johnson, who had 
 heaped up gold by every fraudulent art known to commerce, 
 and who would have sold himself to the Devil readily for 
 any sum of money which that potentate would give. This 
 fellow had sprung from nothing, but was now worth about 
 two hundred thousand pounds. Now having exhausted 
 almost all the knavish arts known on the Exchange for 
 transferring money from the pockets of A into the bank of 
 B, he resolved to get into Parliament, where he hoped to 
 buy a baronetcy, and to shine at court, or at the levee of the 
 great Sir Robert, whom all these moneyed men adored as the 
 impersonation of every thing that was exalted upon earth. 
 He longed, also, to transmit hereditary honors to an only 
 son, a spindle-shanks noodle, with no more brains than a 
 whelk, who spent all his time at the cockpit, and whom 
 this worthy trader regarded as the apple of his eye. With 
 these grand hopes he came down to the borough, and made 
 no secret of his intention to buy as many votes as money
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU!. 317 
 
 could purchase, and by hook or by crook to wrest the repre- 
 sentation from the son and heir of Lord Rollo de Bayeux, 
 whose castle was in the county, and whose family had usually 
 commanded the consciences of the lick-spittle constituency 
 whom we came to canvass. He had already set half the 
 public houses flowing, and opened an unlimited credit at the 
 Bank, but as he was new to the noble art of electioneering 
 bribery, it was calculated, and not unwisely, that an expe- 
 rienced hand would eventually drive him out of the field. 
 A third candidate had, indeed, shown himself, but he was 
 only a great scholar, a most wise and honorable person, 
 who had no landed estate, nor any considerable balance at 
 his banker's. He could offer nothing to the constituents 
 but unimpeachable integrity, the purest and most elevated 
 views of politics, united, however, with a practical states- 
 manship that, had merit its due, would have raised him to 
 the administration of the government. But when it was 
 clearly ascertained that he had no money to lavish in pur- 
 chasing the pigs of electors, he was hooted out of the place 
 as one of the most rascally and shallow impostors that had 
 ever dared to practice on an enlightened constituency. 
 Indeed, his advent was looked upon as a crime, and himself 
 a violator of every thing human and divine for coming 
 into Bilgewater without bags full of gold and a brain full 
 of fraud. So that the contest was now confined to the two 
 honorable and worthy gentlemen whom I have described, 
 namely, Plantagenet and Johnson. 
 
 The honorable Thomas, &c., &c., &c., (I can't write so 
 many grand names,) was alone, and was reclining on a 
 sofa. A table was before him, covered with fruit and 
 various wines; and the honorable gentleman, if we may 
 judge by his flushed features and staring eyes, had tasted 
 rather freely of the latter. He attempted to rise, but the 
 effort was too much for him, and he merely put out one 
 finger to the Cannibal, and said, " How do, Cannibal, how
 
 318 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 do ?" at which gracious mark of friendly condescension 
 the recipient of the finger and Shaveley Bill expressed 
 their gratitude by genuflections and prostrations worthy of 
 a Dutch ambassador at Japan. As I was merely one of the 
 obscure rabble, I had not the superlative happiness of 
 being introduced to the heir of Lord Rollo de Bayeux ; so 
 after staring at me for some time, he said to my companion, 
 whom he appeared to know well, and treated with the most 
 delicate politeness : 
 
 " Cannibal, who the devil is this ?" 
 
 "One of our agents, sir," answered the party addressed; 
 and then he spoke lower, and in a tone which I could not 
 hear if I wished, and would not have bothered myself by 
 hearing if I could. When he had ceased, our host motioned 
 me to take a chair, and rang for fresh glasses which soon 
 were brought, after which the business of the night began. 
 
 " May I ask, sir, is your address out ?" asked Rooke. 
 
 "No," replied the other; " not at all, I didn't know what 
 to say," at which lively burst of wit, Shaveley Bill burst 
 into a large guffaw of laughter in which the Cannibal and 
 the writer of this memoir (with shame I confess it) very 
 quickly joined. 
 
 " May I ask, then, sir, how you have employed yourself 
 since you came?" asked Rooke with the most submissive 
 politeness. 
 
 " Look!" answered the other, and he pointed to the fire- 
 place, on which a scene presented itself that would have 
 gratified the worthy and independent electors of the town, 
 had they but had the high privilege of being introduced as 
 we were into this respectable presence. For there were 
 about sixty rats, all dead and tied together by the tails, 
 which formed a graceful festoon over the mantelpiece, and 
 hung down to the floor at each side, like the flowing ends 
 of a curtain, the carpet being spotted with the blood which 
 dropped from the pretty creatures.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 319 
 
 M Good God ! sir," exclaimed the Cannibal, " what a sight," 
 and he began to count the victims. 
 
 Shaveley Bill rubbed his hands, horse-laughed, and said : 
 
 " How jolly." 
 
 "Aye!" says the candidate, "I never had better fun in 
 my life it beats fox-hunting, which after this day's sport 
 I vote low and vulgar in the extreme. Cannibal, you shall 
 see my dog. You shall kiss him for the fun he has given 
 me to-day," and reaching a bell rope, he tugged at it until 
 it gave way and a frightened servant came into the room. 
 
 "Is that you, Fitz Howard?" asked our host, "yes I 
 see 'tis you ; fetch Billy here, and be quick." 
 
 Fitz Howard vanished and soon after appeared with 
 Billy. It was the renowned terrier which had given the 
 honorable Mr. Plantagenet such rare pleasure, and the dog 
 was certainly worthy of its master. Let us hope that in 
 other and more spiritual regions, " His faithful dog shall 
 bear him company." 
 
 " There are sixty rats in all," said the candidate, observ- 
 ing that the Cannibal was engaged in counting the heads 
 of game " only sixty the infernal rascal of a ratcatcher 
 could get no more. I paid him a shilling a piece for them. 
 He should have had a five pound note if he had got me the 
 hundred. But after scouring the whole place he could 
 hunt up no more. So I laid a wager with the parson, Tom 
 Fireaway. My father gave him the living. He bet me 
 twenty guineas that Billy wouldn't kill the fellows in five 
 minutes, and I took him, and we staked the money with 
 the landlord. Then we housed the rats in here five minutes 
 before dinner, and in four minutes and forty seconds they 
 were all squashed. What a scene it was by Gad ! it was 
 splendid I never had such cursed fun before. For we 
 stopped up all the holes and corners and windows, and 
 the fireplace, and then the rats were let loose and Billy 
 after them, while Tom and I got a table, and the squeaking
 
 320 EDWARD WOETLET MONTAGU. 
 
 was fine. They scudded in all directions ; they ran pell- 
 mell about and up and down, like so many hunted devils. 
 By Gad ! Cannibal, you would have liked the sport so we 
 killed 'em all, and landlord and I fastened 'em together, 
 and then Tom and myself sat down to dinner, and I had a 
 plate and chair brought up for Billy too, and now Tom is 
 gone away to evening service, and by Gad ! Cannibal, you 
 shall kiss Billy, for he has won me twenty guineas" and 
 he absolutely pressed R-ooke to it, until the fellow consented 
 and kissed the terrier with every demonstration of satisfac- 
 tion. Shaveley Bill, scorning to be outdone in any thing, 
 performed the like feat, ejaculating as he did so, " how 
 jolly." 
 
 Mr. Plantagenet looked next at me, but I would not take 
 the hint. 
 
 "Canny," said he, in a half whisper to the Cannibal, 
 "your friend seems an infernal ass don't he?" and he 
 disdained to take any further notice of me for the rest of 
 the evening. 
 
 Pens, ink, and paper were called for, and Rooke and 
 Bill, sitting on opposite sides of the table, began to put 
 down various hints and sentences, and after about an hour's 
 work, in which they occasionally consulted me, (the honor-, 
 able candidate was fast asleep during the whole period,) 
 the following address was produced, and when it was fairly 
 copied, Rooke hummed loudly, which waked up Mr. Plan- 
 tagenet, who said 
 
 "Why did you wake me? I was having a pleasant 
 snooze." 
 
 " Sir," answered Rooke, " we have concocted an address 
 to the electors, and we wish to know if it will meet your 
 pleasure. Will you be good enough to hear it, sir ?" 
 
 "Oh," replied the other, "you needn't have done that; 
 you know I'll sign any thing; the whole thing is humbug, 
 isn't it ?" And he winked very knowingly, and began to
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 321 
 
 whistle " The Rogue's March," in which these two worthy 
 scribes at once joined. 
 
 " Humbug, indeed," said all three, and then they laughed, 
 and then my friend and guide read aloud as follows : 
 
 " To the Worthy and Independent Electors of the Ancient 
 
 Borough of Bilgewater. 
 " GENTLEMEN 
 
 " The vacancy in your important town, caused by the 
 melancholy demise of your late respected representative, 
 entails upon you the honorable duty of returning to Par- 
 liament a successor worthy of your confidence, and of the 
 great agricultural and commercial interests connected with 
 the locality." 
 
 " That is all fudge," said our host, putting his finger to 
 his nose, "but it reads well." 
 
 "Fudge, indeed," rejoined Rooke, "for we know how 
 the late member sold them whenever he could." 
 
 "And why the blazes shouldn't he," said Plantagenet, 
 "when we know he bought them ? Can't I do what I like 
 with my own ? If I buy a voter, can't I sell him ?" 
 
 "Bravo! bravo!" cried out Shaveley Bill ; a remark at 
 which Billy barked in unison with his fellow-dog. The 
 Cannibal resumed reading : 
 
 " Never was there a period in the history of this great 
 country, when it more behooved the worthy and indepen- 
 dent men whom I have the high honor to address to exercise 
 their electoral functions with greater calmness, honesty, 
 and discrimination. The eyes of all England are upon 
 you; the whole empire watches the approaching contest 
 with the most anxious eagerness as to its result ; and you 
 will be either crowned with glory by returning me as your 
 representative, or politically annihilated by selecting the 
 21
 
 322 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 gentleman who I understands means to contest with me 
 the distinguished post of your representative." 
 
 " Very good, very good," muttered Plantagenet, who was 
 again getting sleepy. 
 
 " The present is indeed a momentous crisis. Who can 
 doubt that men like you " 
 
 " And women," suggested our host, half waking. But 
 Rooke paid no attention to the proposed amendment. 
 
 "Who can doubt that men like you will prove your- 
 selves worthy of it, and of their country ? The enemies of 
 order " 
 
 "Who are they?" asked Plantagenet, startled at the 
 louder key in which Rooke read this paragraph. 
 
 "All humbug," said Rooke, in answer, "humbug hum- 
 bug," and he read on 
 
 " The enemies of order, conspiring against our beautiful 
 and perfect constitution in Church and State, seek gradu- 
 ally to undermine the foundations of the splendid fabric 
 which has been reared by the wisdom of our ancestors,and 
 has outlived a thousand years, the envy and admiration of 
 the whole civilized world. Against these enemies you may 
 reckon on me as your most determined champion. Return 
 me to Parliament, and I will oppose them with all the 
 energies I possess." 
 
 " Bravo !" shouted the candidate ; " it's very fine." 
 
 " I'm glad you like it," said Rooke, with a self-satisfied 
 Bmile, " but I'm used to this kind of thing." Shaveley Bill 
 drank off a tumbler of port, and said " how jolly," but 
 whether he alluded to the wine or to the address remains 
 unexplained. 
 
 The Cannibal resumed 
 
 "Few boroughs in this country have been more emi- 
 nently adorned with members of the British senate, or have 
 been more devotedly served by a long line of celebrated 
 men. Nor is this owing to chance alone, but to the inde-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 323 
 
 pendencc, honor, and enlightenment of your incorruptible 
 electors. The late statistical returns which have been laid 
 before the House of Commons, by his Majesty's command, 
 show, that while in all other boroughs in England the 
 average amount of persons who can read and write is not 
 quite a half-quarter per cent., among you, I am delighted 
 to say, it is as much as seventy-three and three-ninths, thus 
 affording the clearest demonstration of your superiority 
 above other places that possess the franchise, and unfortu- 
 nately use it only to abuse it a thing which you have 
 never done." 
 
 "Well!" interposed our host; but he added, thoughtfully, 
 " 1 say, Cannibal, isn't that rather strong ? I never heard 
 of such statistics, and even if I had, I shouldn't believe 
 'em. Where are they?" 
 
 "Nowhere," answered Rooke, in the coolest possible 
 manner. 
 
 "Nowhere!" ejaculated Plantagenet, with open eyes. 
 
 " Of course not," answered Shaveley Bill; "the whole 
 thing is a lie ; every thing in politics is a lie. You didn't 
 believe it, sir, did you ?" 
 
 " But we shall be found out, you artful boy." 
 
 "Who'll find us?" 
 
 " The enemy the opposite candidate." 
 
 " What ! and by telling the worthy electors that it is all 
 moonshine, awaken their self-love against himself, enable 
 us to denounce him as a libeller and villanous slanderer, 
 and probably secure his being tossed in a blanket for daring 
 to question what the asses' own vanity will make them 
 swallow down like new milk ?" 
 
 " Egad !" ejaculated our patrician friend, " you're a pre- 
 cious pair, and I think the thing will do devilish well, so 
 read on." 
 
 The Cannibal continued : 
 
 44 With these principles n
 
 324 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 " Stop, stop," said the host. " I have heard of no prin- 
 ciples or pledges yet. Have you not missed some portion ?" 
 
 " Not at all," replied Rooke ; " there are no principles. 
 Would you have us pledge you to any thing ? Principles, 
 indeed ! I thought you had none, sir." 
 
 " Of course not," said the other, " of course not, my dear 
 boy ; I see you're quite right ; I see, I see." 
 
 "Principles be blowed!" said Shaveley Bill; and the 
 Cannibal laughed, and read on 
 
 " With these principles animating my public conduct, I 
 ask you to return me to the Commons House of Parlia- 
 ment. Descended from a long line of ancestors, whose 
 names figure in the brightest pages of England's history, 
 you may be sure I shall do nothing to disgrace them " 
 the Cannibal here winked at both of us, and made a sly 
 gesture towards the dead rats ; but Mr. Plantageuet did not 
 notice it. " I will devote myself night and day, with an un- 
 selfish zeal to the promotion of your public and your pri- 
 vate interests, with a fearlessness of the court and a freedom 
 from popular interference that will, I hope, add to my 
 influence as your representative. I shall be guided by the 
 principles of glorious John Hampden, and actuated by the 
 policy of our present Heaven-born minister, who, I believe, 
 under Heaven and the king, is the best friend of liberty 
 that England has. My efforts shall be directed to make 
 our country the standard of wealth, freedom and enlighten- 
 ment, and to promote in all possible ways the best and 
 truest interests of my constituents. 
 
 " I have the honor to be, 
 
 " Gentlemen, 
 " With the most devoted sincerity, 
 
 " Your truly faithful Servant, 
 
 "T. YERE CAVENDISH PLANTAGENET. 
 "Bayeux Castle."
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 825 
 
 Rookc laid down the paper, and burst out laughing. 
 His example was contagious. We all indulged in a hearty 
 explosion of mirth at the nonsense that had been read. I 
 have read plenty of such things since, and when I do I 
 always think of the " Red Lion," and laugh. 
 
 "Now," says the candidate, "this will do 'em finely; 
 and the beauty of it is, it pledges me to nothing, eh, isn't 
 that so?" 
 
 " Except to the minister," put in the Cannibal. 
 
 " Oh ! of course, of course that's a matter of course," 
 said our new friend ; " and now, gentlemen, good-night 
 I'm sleepy. Send this humbug to the printer, and come 
 to me in the morning to breakfast." 
 
 So he yawned, and we went away. We sat in the bar 
 for an hour, drinking and smoking at his expense, chatting 
 to the barmaid, and sounding his praises far and wide. 
 
 When we got into the streets next morning we found 
 them placarded with long posters containing the precious 
 epistle which had been concocted the night before. Before 
 each one was an admiring crowd, and we could see by the 
 looks of the electors that our flummery had not been thrown 
 before swine, but that they believed all the fine things that 
 we had told them, swallowing it down with a truly British 
 gusto, for who so gullible as dear fat John Bull, with all 
 his boasted common sense ? 
 
 We found our host at breakfast; he had not conde 
 scended to wait for us ; and when that meal was finished 
 we prepared measures Bully, Hogden, Bill, and I. The 
 following was only a portion of our tactics : 
 
 We first engaged about a dozen deep knaves, who went 
 into the enemy's camp, and by the most furious denuncia- 
 tions of Mr. Plantagenet and his principles, got into the 
 confidence of the opposition, and were initiated, before the 
 week was over, into all their devices, every one of which 
 
 they communicated to us, thus enabling us in all things to 
 21
 
 826 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 countermine the foe. As the whole constituency numbered 
 about four hundred, five-and-twenty of whom alone were 
 unbribable, we engaged a great proportion of them, their 
 wives, brothers, sisters and sons as messengers, musicians, 
 laundresses, seamstresses, &c., &c., at the simple remuner- 
 ation of five-and-sixpence a day; and as the nomination 
 day was about a fortnight off they thus secured a very 
 handsome allowance. But as the day of the grand struggle 
 came near we found out that the other side were paying 
 seven shillings a head for messengers, and numerous were 
 the deserters from our side, whose names were nightly re- 
 peated to us. We were now obliged to pay up the differ- 
 ence in arrear, so as to make the pay given by our side 
 equal to that which our opponents had given from the 
 first. Suddenly there was a great demand for cider, and 
 we purchased from a doubtful publican twenty pounds 
 worth of that delicious beverage which, as his wife assured 
 us, would make him ours forever ; as for the publican him- 
 self, he declined to give any pledge, but referred us to his 
 wife, who, he always said, guided him in politics. The 
 other side gave her a brocade silk dress; the Cannibal 
 sent her one of satin, embroidered with velvet, and a pair 
 of glittering gold ear-rings we bought them off a Jew 
 pedlar for half-a-crown, but they certainly looked splendid. 
 Hogden sent her a hymn-book, with a bank note inside, 
 which carried the day, and we had, after that, no more 
 staunch or devoted adherent than the publican and his 
 spouse. The excitement now became dreadful. Mr. Plan- 
 tagenet ordered two dozen pairs of boots, and the worthy 
 maker received for each of these useful articles of attire 
 the moderate price of five guineas leather, I suppose, 
 having suddenly been raised in price, owing to the war, or 
 the peace, or the bad harvest, or the plentiful supply of 
 rain, or some other calamity of a similar description. 
 Hats were sold for five pounds each, whereupon the other
 
 BDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 827 
 
 side bade six, and fairly drove us out of the market. We 
 could not get a single independent hatter to have any 
 thing to do with us; they voted us mean, shabby, nig- 
 gardly, and enemies of the British Constitution. Every 
 tavern in- the place was now kept open at the expense of 
 one or other of the honorable candidates. Hogden was in 
 his element; he became more sanctimonious every day; he 
 seemed to have got the whole of Sternhold and Hopkins 
 off by heart, and wherever h* went he poured it into the 
 ears of the godly. He had already presented a couple of 
 sucking pigs, one to the Rev. Aminadab Groanly ; another 
 to the Rev. Jehosaphat Diggnan, who presided over a few 
 select spirits, whose religious tenets were hardly known, 
 but who numbered certain voters among them, and made 
 no secret that money was the god of their political princi- 
 ples. These sucking pigs had a new kind of stuffing, of 
 which Hogden was the grand inventor; this was simply a 
 bit of paper, which, when opened, discovered to the de- 
 lighted recipient a fifty pound note ; and it was marvellous 
 what a stimulus to electioneering zeal a dainty of this kind 
 gave to the reverend recipients! Nothing but Plantage- 
 net ! Plantagenet ! rang from their lips, at pulpit and tea 
 party ; nor were they silent on the virtues of Hogden. 
 
 Two more wretches remained, who were also secured. 
 These rapscallions were joint proprietors of the Bilgewater 
 Post, a wretched rag which circulated in the town, and had 
 a good pot-house connection. A few pounds bought this 
 journal, with all its staff, body and soul ; and though the 
 little rat-catcher could not speak two sentences of decent 
 English, they represented him as a second Pitt. They sent 
 the same assassins to our opponent's meetings, and every 
 thing he said was so colored, falsified, and perverted that 
 the electors who did not attend half believed he was little 
 better than a maniac ; and this, though it did not prevent 
 their taking his money, merely gave them an excuse for
 
 328 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 demanding higher prices, for the greater the fool the higher 
 the bribe. This became the shibboleth of the town, and 
 increased our opponent's expenses a trick never to be 
 forgotten in elections. 
 
 All soon became riot, drunkenness, and debauchery as 
 befits an election carried on according to truly Constitu- 
 tional principles. We were blue, our opponents were 
 scarlet ; and when the respective bands and backers of each 
 met, awful and sanguinary were the struggles. These 
 brought the surgeons, the apothecaries, &c., &c., into requi- 
 sition, and as we paid handsomely as well for our own 
 wounded men as those of the enemy we had the medical 
 profession secured. Shaveley Bill shouted every night 
 from the balcony of the hotel until he got hoarse and could 
 speak no more. Hogden attended no end of pious tea 
 parties, quoted scripture, and insinuated guineas. The 
 honorable candidate also addressed the electors, but nearly 
 ruined himself by once having his umbrella held over his 
 head during a shower of rain while the electors endured 
 the pelting of the storm, and greeted him with groans and 
 laughter for his effeminacy. Now the blue was in the as- 
 cendant, now the scarlet was victorious, and on the day 
 before the election the Cannibal came to me in despair, and 
 said: 
 
 " We must buy cats, bottle voters, bid for bloaters, and 
 poll dead men, or we shall lose the election." 
 
 The feline merchandise at once commenced. Never had 
 grimalkin been so valuable at least never since Dick 
 Whittington sold his cat to the Soldan of Morocco for a 
 ton of gold, and blessed the day that he came back a happy 
 boy to Bow Bells. Mousers that belonged to free and inde- 
 pendent voters were sought after everywhere those of the 
 constituents who hadn't cats stole them, and great was the 
 outcry among the old women whose tabbies were ruthlessly 
 abducted from them. The "Red Lion" was soon filled
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 829 
 
 with these unfortunate creatures, and as each was purchased 
 for twenty pounds, there seemed no end to their importa- 
 tion. We could only destroy them as fast as they were 
 brought ; and a man offered Fitz-Howard sixpence a piece 
 for their carcases, which that worthy was but too happy to 
 receive. Hogden went about in all directions purchasing 
 bloaters at unheard-of prices. He penetrated every lane 
 and alley; wherever he went he opened his pockets. In 
 one hole we bought a gray parrot for fifty guineas; in 
 another we gave the same amount for an old pig which was 
 at the point of death, kindly allowing the owner to kill and 
 eat it. To the women who were in the family-way we said, 
 " Goody this, or Goody that," whatever her name might be, 
 " wouldn't you like a silver cup for the young 'un ? Chris- 
 ten him after Mr. Plantagenet, and the thing is done." 
 And there were actually some twenty cups brought down 
 from London to the " Red Lion " for these precious babes. 
 Mr. Plantagenet's address was printed on bine satin by 
 one of the mercers in the town and distributed in hundreds. 
 This cost a vast sum, but the worthy mercer's vote was 
 won. Such an exhibition of high and patriotic principle 
 worked an astonishing change in our favor. We now began 
 to " bottle." Thirty-five doubtful voters were invited to a 
 champagne supper at the "King's Head," the landlord of 
 which was in our interest. Shaveley Bill was appointed to 
 fill the chair. Three large wagons, each drawn by six 
 horses, with plentiful relays, were engaged. After a most 
 delightful entertainment the wagons and the visitors were 
 found next night some fifty miles away from the town 
 where the election was held, and even then the independent 
 freemen had not wholly recovered the intoxicating effects of 
 the champagne which they had drank I won't say how 
 much our laudanum bill was, as Rooke managed all these 
 matters. Rooke next prepared his " dead men." The lists 
 of the constituency were carefully gone through, and various
 
 830 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 worthy fellows were procured who personated voters who had 
 long since lain at rest in the churchyard. The make up of 
 these varlets was excellent, even the widows of the real de- 
 funct parties, and in many instances their mothers, and 
 surviving friends and relations boldly declared after they 
 had had a short interview with the Cannibal in a private 
 room that the dressed-up voters were the bona fide persons 
 whom they represented, and though the other side were on 
 the alert, Rooke did not care a farthing. 
 
 " Win the election any way," said he, " then let them 
 petition if they like. We can make it cost them nine or 
 ten thousand pounds; the chances are we can buy them 
 off for a quarter of the sum, and then the election will be 
 ours." 
 
 So we resolved to poll the dead men with the most utter 
 fearlessness. This, and the bottling, and the lying, and 
 the cat buying, and bloater catching, we hoped would 
 secure us the election a hope in which, as it subsequently 
 turned out, we were not disappointed. 
 
 The grand stroke of all remained, in which our new but 
 unsavory friend Hogden won great laurels ; indeed, " The 
 Bloater " considered it his trump card. Two or three days 
 before the nomination the whole district, even for miles 
 round, was covered with gigantic posters, bordered with 
 black, in which our opponent was represented as a man 
 noted for his blasphemies and debaucheries ; the character of 
 his wife a most honorable woman but what did Hogden 
 care ? was virulently assailed, and she was dragged into 
 all the filth of the election whirlpool, in a way that ought 
 to have made any body of Englishmen blush; but the 
 majority of the constituency were now so debased that they 
 seemed to think any amount of dirt, falsehood or filth, 
 which could secure a triumph for their favorite was per- 
 fectly allowable, and their reverend advisers, I am sorry to 
 Bay, were foremost in their approval of these tactics. Afttr
 
 BDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 831 
 
 this other posters came out, in which our opponent was 
 represented to the constituency as having come down to 
 the borough under false colors, being bribed to sell his 
 party ; to profess principles of which he was not the true 
 advocate, and to commit I know not how many other 
 equally odious treasons. 
 
 It was in vain that our honorable opponent, Johnson, 
 went about everywhere denouncing these as a forgery. 
 Wherever he went he was followed by hired gangs, the 
 very scum and filth of Bilgewater, pelted with stones, old 
 bottles, mud and rotten eggs. On the day of the election 
 a number of fellows were sent in every direction, with bells 
 and hand-bills, and copies of the Bilgewater Post, in which 
 the honest electors were warned against voting for him, as 
 he had been taken to the county jail the night before on 
 some criminal charge connected with the election. The 
 lowest rabble, with eyes like ravenous wolves, and tongues 
 like mad dogs, were posted around each polling place howl- 
 ing at all his supporters ; dinning these and all sorts of 
 lies into the ears of the general body of voters ; hurrying 
 them off to public houses and taverns ; plying them with 
 drink, till the whole constituency grovelled before us like 
 dirty beasts; slipping money into their hands, and per- 
 petually asking : " Would you vote for a man that's hired 
 to sell you ? Hasn't he got his price in his pocket ? Hasn't 
 he been expelled by his own church, after full inquiry? 
 Didn't I hear him swear and blaspheme so and so ?" re- 
 peating all the awful language which was contained in 
 Hogden's placards. Need I say that all this had an im- 
 mense effect ? 
 
 Another and final stroke of ours decided the election. 
 About the last hour, when there were still a great number 
 of "doubtfuls" and only conscientious characters, who 
 even then could not make up their minds as to the respec- 
 tive merits of the rival candidates, and when toe could
 
 332 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 hardly be said to be safe, Kooke rushed into the head 
 committee-room in great excitement. "Now is the time 
 for the hundreds," he shouted, and with a profusion of 
 oaths and blasphemies, he summoned Hogden, Shaveley 
 Bill, and the bell-man to his presence. The three came, 
 and the Cannibal pulled out an immense bundle of hundred- 
 pound bank notes. Giving a handful to our two worthy 
 friends, he said to the bell-man, " Up and ring the street, 
 you ugly hang-gallows ; up and down like wild-fire. Let 
 your bell ring and your throat proclaim a hundred-pound 
 note to every man who has not yet voted." And to Hog- 
 den and Shaveley he said, " Give these to all the doubtful, 
 right and left." I started at this open act of suicide, as it 
 seemed to be ; but Hogden and Shaveley put their fingers 
 to their "noses and called out "How jolly!" then rushing 
 into the streets, did as they were told. In less than twenty 
 minutes all the " doubtfuls " were secured and had voted 
 for us ; and it was only when they took their notes to be 
 changed that the unfortunate victims, who could neither 
 read nor write, discovered they had been shamefully cheated, 
 and instead of a hundred-pound note of the Bank of Eng- 
 land, they found they had sold themselves for a base bit 
 of paper which was payable only at the Bank of Elegance. 
 But their votes had then been given, and it was neither 
 bribery nor corruption, as several good lawyers held.* 
 But I anticipate. The day preceding the election, Plan- 
 tagenet, who was a horrid coward, sent for the Cannibal. 
 We found him in his bed-room ; he was quite pale. 
 
 " Cannibal," said he, " I'm told I shall be attacked going 
 to the hustings to-morrow. How shall we manage ?" 
 
 " That's all right," replied my friend, " I have got Figg, 
 the Champion of England, down already ; he represents 
 
 * This excellent electioneering device was afterwards Imitated with success 
 at an election for the county of Worcester, when Mr. Foley owed his return 
 to It.
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 833 
 
 the heavy weights. Jem Blood, of the light weights, is 
 also come. I have promised them twenty guineas a piece, 
 and woe to the man that lifts his hand against your honor." 
 
 Plantageuet smiled faintly. The dirty little craven took 
 courage, and shook the Cannibal by the hand. 
 
 " Bravo ! my good fellow," said he, " you shall have the 
 first Judgeship that I can procure ; and an honor you'll be 
 to the Bench 1" 
 
 Next day we proceeded to the hustings, with drums 
 beating, colors flying, trumpets sounding, dogs barking, 
 the populace shouting, Groanley and Diggnan singing 
 psalms, the women waving handkerchiefs, and all the 
 other stupid folly of a contested election. Our plans and 
 plots all succeeded; we carried everything before us. The 
 opposition candidate was half murdered ; his proposer and 
 seconder were overwhelmed with filth, and the day ended 
 Avith the triumphant return of the honorable scion of Plan- 
 tagenet. 
 
 A great moral victory this was, no doubt, and so the 
 honorable member regarded it. We had a grand dinner, 
 at which every one present got drunk, to the music of 
 Sternhold and Hopkins, which Hogden led off, and from 
 whose effects they did not recover for a week, to the great 
 profit (again) of the medical profession, but to the great 
 disgust of Brownlow Blades, a very honest fellow, who had 
 . written several excellent pamphlets, strongly recommend- 
 ing temperance. We had a chairing through the streets, 
 and several more fights, and half the town was mad with 
 gin, tobacco, and excitement ; and the electors were in fact 
 changed as by the Wand of Comus, into dogs, swine, and 
 monkeys. We had a funeral procession, and a coffin bear- 
 ing the name and character of our opponent carried through 
 the town of Bilgewater, with Rooke and Shaveley Bill for 
 mourners. Tom Fireaway read a burlesque of the burial 
 service, in which he was assisted by the other two rever-
 
 334 BDWABD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 end gentlemen, and the coffin was buried under a dung- 
 hill, amid a profusion of dead cats, for which we had so 
 handsomely paid. 
 
 Now our election bills came in fast and furious, and the 
 Honorable Thomas pulled several very long faces as he 
 perused them ; but the Lord Privy, &c., paid them, and so 
 there was no trouble on that score ; though the other side 
 basely whispered that the "heaven-born Minister of the 
 day " discharged them out of some secret fund which was 
 annually set apart for that especial purpose. If Walpole 
 did, I have no doubt he was quite right, and I am sure 
 that he was very properly reimbursed for it by the patriotic 
 votes of the new member ; so all came straight and square 
 in the end, and the Scarlet party were thoroughly put 
 down, and scarcely ventured to wag their tongues against 
 us. The defeated candidate petitioned, but nothing came 
 of it ; every thing seemed a humbug, from the beginning 
 to the end ; and though a few choice spirits called atten- 
 tion to the matter in the House, Walpole and some of his 
 buffons laughed them down; and even Pulteney did not 
 stick to his man. It was all a swindle. The House went 
 the length, it is true, of ordering Hogden to be prosecuted 
 for bribery ; but that worthy was true to his colors, and 
 having contrived to fee the Attorney-General's Clerk and 
 one or two others connected with the office, he managed to 
 escape that high functionary, who was himself probably 
 too busy to bother himself much about such raggabrash ; and 
 thus Hogden escaped amid a derisive cheer of joy from all 
 the bribers and blackguards of the kingdom. But what 
 did they think of a Senate that connived at such rascality ? 
 Why simply this, that every fellow in it, being tarred with 
 the same brush, thought it hard to press upon a delinquent 
 like Hogden and his like, without whose aid, arts and ap- 
 pliances, every honorable member knew that he himself 
 also must have lost the seat to which he aspired. Thus
 
 BDTfAKD WORTLEY MONTAQTT. 885 
 
 this honest world wags, and so I suppose it perpetually 
 will wag on, while the true British lion shakes his mane at 
 all the earth, and with his roar quells the affrighted forest. 
 
 Mr. Plantagenet went into Parliament, where he dis- 
 tinguished himself by his anecdotes of rat-catching, told at 
 Bellamy's with great applause, (for he was too modest to 
 address Mr. Speaker,) until from rat-catching he mounted 
 to the noble sport of dog-fighting, bear and badger-baiting, 
 the cock-pit, the bull, and, finally, the prize ring, where 
 once in a combat with his old backer, Jem Blood, who was 
 teaching him to spar, at half-a-guinea a lesson, his left eye 
 was unfortunately knocked out, which reduced him to a 
 political nonentity, for he soon after retired from the ex- 
 alted position of a British senator, and settled in the 
 country as an active magistrate. Here he passed his rosy 
 leisure, till he succeeded to the peerage, when he married 
 the eldest daughter of the Duke of A., one of the loveliest 
 women in England, who soon after ran away from him, and 
 left him to the company of his dog Billy, who thus became 
 the joy and solace of his old age. He the nobleman, not 
 the dog enjoyed the reputation of having killed more rats 
 and corrupted more country girls than any other member 
 of the peerage, and his son and heir inherits the same ex- 
 alted tastes. I met him at White's some years ago, and 
 was present at a wager he laid with the Marquis of Queens- 
 bury as to the respective speed of two black beetles. The 
 stake was five thousand guineas, and Queensbury won, (as 
 he usually does,) and laughed at young Plantagenet, which 
 I thought rather unfeeling. 
 
 An incident which happened a day or two after the elec- 
 tion deserves to be recorded. The Cannibal, Shaveley, Hog- 
 den and myself, remained of course in town, to settle all 
 outstanding claims, and to arrange certain little matters 
 with our honorable and independent committee-men. We 
 were rather surprised one evening to receive a message from
 
 336 EDWABD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Alderman Bullface, who had been among the bitterest of 
 our opponents in the late struggle. He was down stairs, 
 and begged to be admitted. He was shown into the room, 
 and the Cannibal warmly shook hands with him ; for Bull- 
 face had great influence over his own people, and if we 
 could but get him to our own side, all hope for the Scarlets 
 would be utterly and forever extinguished, so nicely were 
 these two great constitutional parties balanced. Bullface 
 returned the Cannibal's greeting with equal favor, and 
 having shaken hands with several of the committee-men, 
 begged permission to be heard. It was at once granted. 
 
 " Gentlemen," says the Alderman, " I admire the spirit 
 and the pluck with which the late election was carried. 
 All is now over ; let bygones be bygones. We have had 
 a fair stand-up fight; we have got a bellyfull, and you 
 have won the belt. All this is right and fair, and I don't 
 complain. But the election has had this important effect 
 on my own mind, and on those of the gentlemen who 
 usually go with me. It has separated us forever from the 
 Scarlet party." 
 
 Here there was a tremendous burst of applause, which 
 nearly knocked the ceiling of the room to pieces. The ex- 
 citement was perfectly dreadful ; several of the committee- 
 men in their wild eagerness to embrace and congratulate 
 Bullface on his independent- spirit, jostled against and 
 knocked each other down. The Alderman listened calmly 
 and philosophically ; lie was as unmoved as Socrates when 
 his friends surrounded him in prison and some wept, 
 while others preached. I often wonder the Grecian sage 
 did not kick both the pedants and the pulers to the deuce. 
 When the hurricane had subsided, the worthy Alderman 
 resumed : 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen, I have been treated with base ingrati- 
 tude ; but no more of this. I am here to make the arrange- 
 ment I have mentioned ; in all my coming struggles you
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 837 
 
 y rely on me and on my friends, and I hope to make up 
 by my future conduct for any inconvenience I may have 
 put you to by my former opposition. And now, gentle- 
 men, I bid you all good-night," and the Alderman appeared 
 as if he were about to withdraw. 
 
 The thing was impossible. What! suffer the worthy 
 Bullface to depart in this manner ? It was out of the ques- 
 tion. He must stay he must have a glass a bottle a 
 pipe any thing, every thing nothing that money could 
 procure would be too precious for this high-spirited and 
 independent elector, who carried six and forty votes in his 
 breeches pocket. We all gathered round him and entreated 
 him to remain. The Cannibal would not permit his depar- 
 ture he went and locked the door. The chairman of the 
 committee, who happened also to be the Mayor of the 
 town, never heard of such a proposition in his life. 
 
 At length, after great entreaty, Bullface again addressed 
 them : 
 
 "Mr. Mayor, and gentlemen of the Blue Committee," 
 said he, " this is the proudest, happiest moment of my life. 
 It is impossible for me to express what I feel. Why, oh, 
 why have we been so long on opposite sides ? Why have 
 we been so long blind to each other's excellencies ? I am 
 delighted to have found so many and such kind friends 
 and all for the performance of a simple act of duty. With 
 pleasure I accept your kind hospitality but only on this 
 condition, that you also will partake of mine. When we 
 have had a glass or two, suffer me to hope that you will 
 not refuse to partake of a little supper with me. If I re- 
 ceive your consent, I will but step over to the Swan and 
 order it; we shall have it nice and hot, and it shall be 
 ready in an hour. It must be pot luck, gentlemen, for I 
 really don't know what the}' can get at a moment's notice; 
 but though plain and simple, we shall not the less heartily 
 enjoy it." 
 22
 
 838 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 There were several hungry fellows on our committee, 
 who enjoyed nothing better than a feast at another man's 
 expense. They smacked their lips at the anticipated Alder- 
 manic banquet ; the invitation was accepted, and Bullface 
 stepped across the street to give his orders. He was not 
 away more than five minutes, and when he came back there 
 was a sunny smile on his face. 
 
 " Mr. Mayor and Gentlemen," said he, " I am happy to 
 inform you that they can supply us. It is now eight 
 o'clock supper will be ready at nine. Until then, let us 
 sit down and talk over the past, like good fellows." 
 
 And we did sit down ; what capital boon companions we 
 all were ! We drank, at Plantagenet's expense, the most 
 excellent claret that could be got for money we swilled it 
 about like water; we warmed it with real Cogniac. At 
 nine we adjourned to the Swan, and were shown to the 
 supper-room. Covers were laid for thirty. Bullface sat 
 at the head near the door, with the Cannibal and Fireaway 
 on his right, Shaveley Bill and Hogden on the left; the 
 landlord of the Red Lion occupied the vice-chair, and the 
 dishes were quickly uncovered. 
 
 " Mr. Mayor and Gentlemen," says Mr. Bullface, " it is 
 a plain' supper ; at this short notice I could get nothing 
 but rabbits in the borough nor could even those be got 
 in sufficient quantity, only that, as you know, to-morrow 
 is our great rabbit fair, and I fortunately waylaid a higgler 
 who was on his way to it, and bought two dozen of his 
 finest. Mine host of the Swan tells me they have made a 
 most beautiful stew, and indeed they smell deliciously. 
 Let us despatch them as soon as possible. I have ordered 
 four or five dozen champagne to follow." 
 
 Saying this, the Alderman began to help those who sat 
 near him. There were six dishes of these delicious animals, 
 each containing four ; they steamed with onions, pepper, 
 and many other fragrant condiments. The sparkling vision
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 339 
 
 of the coming champagne inspired the committee-men, and 
 ample justice was done to the Alderman's rabbits. Tho 
 company indeed was profuse in their praises. 
 
 " I never tasted any thing sweeter," said the Mayor. 
 
 " They are perfectly delicious," said Hogden. 
 
 "Rabbit me," cried the Cannibal, "but this is the best 
 part of the election." 
 
 " Gentlemen," said Bullface, " enjoy yourselves, I am de- 
 lighted to see you." 
 
 " But, Mr. Alderman," cried the Mayor, " how is it you're 
 eating none yourself?" 
 
 "My dear Mr. Mayor," answered our host, "I have 
 drank so much of your excellent claret, that I really have 
 no room, but I will begin presently. In the meantime let 
 me help you to this back it is fat and plump." 
 
 And so the plates went round, and silvery was the clatter 
 of knives and forks. I was myself rather a spectator than 
 an actor in this happy scene. The fact was, like the 
 Alderman himself, I had indulged in the claret, until I 
 felt disposed for nothing else ; I therefore fiddled with a 
 bit of bread. But Groanley and Diggnan stuffed them- 
 selves like boas. 
 
 Half an hour or more having been thus delightfully 
 enjoyed, the Alderman arose, and apologizing for leaving 
 the room, said he was going to see after the champagne. 
 In his absence we drank his health in some very good beer, 
 and all agreed that there was not a better fellow in the 
 world. 
 
 In a few minutes the hamper of champagne was brought 
 in, and laid on the table. A note at the same time was 
 handed from the Alderman to the Mayor, which the latter 
 read aloud. It was as follows : 
 
 " Friday night, 
 " DEAR ME. MAYOR : 
 
 " I am unexpectedly called away by ft sudden matter,
 
 340 EDWARD WORT LEY MONTAGU. 
 
 which admits of no delay. Pray make my apology to the 
 company for my unlooked-for absence. I hope you will 
 enjoy the sham. 
 
 "Yours truly, 
 
 "JOHN BULLFACE." 
 
 "We had a laugh at the worthy Alderman's mode of spell- 
 ing the first syllable of champagne. 
 
 " But as it's French," says the Mayor, taking, as a matter 
 of course, the vacant chair, " why our departed friend can- 
 not be expected to know any thing of a foreign lingo. He's 
 a good John Bull, and true son of old England, I know. 
 In the meantime, gentlemen, so long as his wine is real, 
 we can overlook the spelling," and gently smiling at his 
 e&sy humor, he drew the hamper towards him. 
 
 u Waiter," said he, " bring the nippers and champagne 
 tumblers. Gentlemen, we shall drink in bumpers and no 
 mistake." 
 
 It seemed to me that for a hamper containing so many 
 bottles of wine, it was wielded without much trouble by our 
 worthy President. However, he himself, intent on ap- 
 proaching bliss, evidently heeded nothing but to draw forth 
 the contents as speedily as possible. He cut the cords and 
 lifted up the lid. We could see no bottles, nor any straw 
 in which they were likely to be concealed. The mayor put 
 in his hand, and drew forth a brown paper parcel, nicely 
 sealed, and addressed to " His Worship." We all gathered 
 round him. With anxious trembling hand he tore open 
 the parcel, and revealed to our astonished view twenty-four 
 cats' tails, together with the head and claws of an old gray 
 parrot. In a moment the horrible truth flashed on us. We 
 had supped on but let me pause. 
 
 The whole company was sick in five minutes. Never was 
 there a more awful Catastrophe. 
 * * * * * *
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 341 
 
 The reader may probably ask me, " Pray, Mr. Montagu, 
 what were you doing during all this hard-fought election ?" 
 That is my secret, which I am not at all bound to reveal. 
 I only know, instead of fifty, I got a hundred pounds out 
 of the successful candidate, and that was all I cared for. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 DURING all this time I had not forgotten what I owed to 
 my loved Francesca. I searched the peerage books, con- 
 sulted a lawyer, and made inquiries as largely as I could 
 without attracting particular attention to either of us. 
 Under my incognito of Smith, I was to some extent safe ; 
 but I did not care much to go into the fashionable parts of 
 the metropolis too openly, for I dreaded recognition, not 
 only by my mother's friends, but by Dom Balthazar, whom 
 I instinctively knew to be after me, animated as much by 
 vengeance as by thirst of money. My Francesca scarcely 
 ever ventured out, except in my company. I disguised 
 myself so as to be as unlike as possible what I had been 
 among the gypsies. It may be asked why I did not keep 
 my promise to Francesca, to fly with her to my father, and 
 replace her in her proper sphere ? The answer is and I 
 know that it is an unsatisfactory one I delayed doing so 
 until I could present her in her true character. I plumed 
 myself with the grand hope that I should go before Mr. 
 Wortley Montagu, and say, " Here I am ; I present to you 
 as your daughter-in-law a scion of a most noble house. She 
 is all mine, for she loves me entirely for myself. She loved 
 me when she knew not that I was other than a wanderer." 
 This, I thought, would be at least a part in which I should 
 worthily appear. How could I venture before him until
 
 342 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 the great object of my search was accomplished ? To in- 
 troduce into his house a gitana for in no other light 
 would she stand until her true descent was established 
 would be to incense him and his wife against both with an 
 inextinguishable fury. Besides, to own the truth, I did 
 not particularly desire to face him. There was a vagabond 
 independence, an erratic Arab sort of freedom in my pres- 
 ent mode of life that pleased me. For mere animal pleas- 
 ures I did not care much. My father, with a million at 
 his back, could live on fifty pounds a year. Why should 
 not I be able to make the same boast ? Our garret was 
 neat and modest; we passionately loved each other; we 
 read, wrote, and studied together. She was delighted 
 poor child with my scanty earnings. Our treasures in 
 that way seemed inexhaustible. My brain appeared a 
 golden mine, on which I could draw at will. And then 
 how exquisite a luxury was her praise of my works when 
 perfected ! One word of commendation from her was worth 
 all the applause of the critics. Mrs. Sale was enchanted 
 with her, as who would not be ? She flashed upon her like 
 a new star. I repeat there was a vagrant charm, a strange 
 eccentric fascination in the whole affair, which restrained 
 me from making any offer to return home, and though I 
 knew that I had outgrown schools and rods, and had no 
 fear on that head, still I did not really need Lady Mary, 
 her husband, or their splendid home. We had love in a 
 garret, and that sufficed for all things let misers and 
 money-grubbers say what they will. 
 
 One day when I returned home, (we had now been about 
 six months in London,) Francesca told me, with an appear- 
 ance of strange alarm, that she had seen Dom Balthazar 
 pass by, and look up at our house. She happened to be at 
 the window at the moment, and suddenly drew back, but 
 did not venture to look out again to observe whether he 
 had stayed to reconnoitre, or whether his movement had
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 843 
 
 been any thing indeed but casual. This information gave 
 me some alarm ; yet I heeded little that could be done in 
 the way of open violence. I was in the middle of the me- 
 tropolis, where it would have been hard at all events to 
 perpetrate any great outrage, or openly violate the laws. 
 However, I thought it as well to guard against all risk of 
 danger, and we left our lodgings the following day, and 
 went into an entirely different part of London. We neg- 
 lected, however as afterwards appeared one most mate- 
 rial precaution ; for the person who removed our things 
 carried them straight into our new dwelling, and we forgot 
 to bribe him into silence, or rather we never suspected that 
 our change of residence might thus by an active adversary 
 be easily traced. We were now happy again. Prancesca's 
 fears gradually abated, and I went abroad as usual among 
 my coffee-house friends and patrons. It happened that I 
 remained there one night later than usual. When I left, it 
 was past midnight. I had been detained by the buffoon- 
 eries of that reverend quack orator, Henley, who held forth 
 to an admiring audience of fops and witlings in the most 
 extraordinary medley of learning, farce, scurrility, and 
 indecency that has been heard since the days of Aretino, 
 or Rabelais or to go fui-ther back, perhaps Aristophanes 
 himself, that mad wag of quality who has so many sins 
 against propriety and Socrates to answer for. The subject 
 was, I think, "The Marriage of Cana in Galilee," and 
 while a large portion of the comedy was borrowed from 
 poor Woolston, a great deal more was the proper lucubra- 
 tion of our renowned tub-Thersites ; and loud was the ap- 
 plause which he excited. We cheerfully subscribed our 
 sixpence at the close, and the mountebank making a low 
 bow, wished us all with old Nickolas, who he assured us 
 was his proper Metropolitan and Archimandrite, and would 
 gratefully reward us for the lessons which we had just 
 learned from his accredited clergyman. I walked homo
 
 344 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 part of the way with old Colly Gibber, who, among other 
 profane sexagenarians, had been loudest of all the assembled 
 rascals in his applause. He was not quite old enough to 
 remember Sir Charles Sedley's horrible exhibition of him- 
 self in Covent Garden, or Rochester's sermon as a foreign 
 quack on Tower Hill ; but he had known persons who had 
 been present at both, and having heard them frequently 
 described, he declared that Henley's was a more agreeable 
 treat to all blackguard-minded individuals than either; 
 adding he wouldn't have missed it for a score of guineas. 
 We parted at a cross street, and I wandered slowly home- 
 ward. Suddenly I felt myself seized, gagged, and bound. 
 I was flung into a hackney coach ; two men instantly 
 jumped in after me ; a direction was given to the driver, 
 and I was hurried off with the rapidity of a hunt. The night 
 was dark, and we moved so rapidly that even had I known 
 my companions, I doubt whether I could have recognized 
 them. A passing glimpse of light from a dying lamp re- 
 vealed two faces masked. Not a word was spoken. We 
 rode for about two hours, without once stopping. We 
 made a momentary halt at some turnpike gates ; but they 
 flew open as if by magic, and we passed through unchal- 
 lenged. At length, when the morning gray was almost 
 breaking, we stopped at an iron gate ; it opened, and we pro- 
 ceeded up a dark avenue. A house with one solitary light 
 appeared in the distance. I was brought in, led upstairs, 
 and thrust into a bedroom in which a fire was burning, 
 screened by an iron-wire guard. A light also was hung 
 against the wall, but so as to be inaccessible to the inmate 
 of the room. The door was locked on the outside, and I 
 was left to my meditations. 
 
 My first thought was, of course, home I do not mean 
 Lady Mary's, for that was never a home to me but my 
 true home the home and household of my heart. My 
 wife, Francesca poor child 1 I said, what will become of
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 345 
 
 thee ? Alone in London I dread to think. Oh ! let me 
 fly to thee ! I rushed to the bed I tore off the clothes. I 
 tied the sheets together in a long knot. I rushed to the 
 window. It was fastened down and securely barred. All 
 escape that way seemed impossible. I stamped, I thundered 
 against the door, the floor. I broke the panes themselves 
 to pieces, and shouted aloud through the aperture. But no 
 voice answered. My words seemed lost in vastness and 
 vacuity. No one came near me. I was left to my own 
 reflections. Oh ! how I raved and roared 1 My passion 
 was frightful but I was powerless. I could do nothing. 
 I strove to get at the lamp, at the fire, that I might burn 
 the house and take my chance of an escape during the 
 tumult. But even here I was baffled. In a word, I could 
 devise no method of getting out, and the agony of thought 
 was worse than madness. At length I threw myself on the 
 floor, and sobbed myself to sleep. To sleep aye, and to 
 dream but those were nightmare dreams of horror. 
 
 I slept about an hour. When I awoke I could scarcely 
 think that last night's scene was real. It was now day. I 
 started up. I was still dressed. I looked around ; the 
 lamp still faintly burned ; the fire was expiring slowly. I 
 saw that it was all true. I was a prisoner. Why ? Where- 
 fore ? This I could not answer. Dom Balthazar occurred 
 to me. But why should he imprison me ? This was not 
 the way to get a reward from a loving, heart-broken, dove- 
 like pair of parents such as I had. I rejected the thought. 
 But then was it not a contrivance to secure me so as to 
 practice against Francesca ? I started to my feet at the 
 suggestion. Yes this it was this it wns the secret was 
 out. I am undone and she? oh ! I was like a wild beast. 
 I roared, I raved, I raged against my prison. They will 
 do' 03' her they will bear her away she will be murdered 
 and I am powerless . After a wild paroxysm, I must 
 have fallen insensible, for when I recovered I found food
 
 346 EDWARD WOKTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 placed near me bread and water but I regarded it not. 
 The pangs of hunger had not yet seized me. My mental 
 sufferings were now at fever heat. Reader! will you be- 
 lieve it ? I lay in this place for three whole months. I 
 saw no one but servants. I was denied paper, or pens, or 
 ink ; to my questions I received no answer. At the end 
 of that time I was free. I flew as if on wings to the place 
 where I had left Francesca, hoping against hope that I 
 should find her there. She was gone the people of the 
 house knew nothing of her. She had received a letter the 
 morning after I had been seized. She sat up for me the 
 whole night poor girl ! wild, wondering, agitated. In 
 the morning a letter was brought from Mr. Smith. She 
 opened and read it ; she danced with joy. Oh ! I am going 
 to him, she said. She dressed and left the house; she had 
 never returned. I rushed up-stairs the room was as I 
 had left it. There was the bed unlain on the withered 
 violets the little trunk which contained our all in the 
 corner the volume of Tasso which she had been reading, 
 open and turned down, just as she had left it in her hurry. 
 My papers were untouched ; my few books still ready for 
 my hand in the usual place. All reminded me of her, and 
 my irreparable loss. I looked into the people's eyes for 
 tidings. Alas ! they could give none. I felt my heart 
 sicken ; my brain turned around. I fell down in convul- 
 sions. 
 
 Five weeks passed. The crisis of my fever was gone. In 
 my frenzy I had revealed all my real name and rank 
 Francesca's rights my fearful sufferings. When I re- 
 covered, I was in a room which I thought I knew again. 
 A nurse was sitting at my bedside. She put her hand to 
 her lips and made a sign to be still. I lay down. This, said 
 I, also is a dream. It is like my old room at Twickenham 
 but this cannot be. Yet it was. For in a few days I
 
 EDWARD WOKTLBY MONTAGU. 347 
 
 was better I rapidly recovered. I was well. Lady Mary 
 came into ray room. She looked at me coldly, and said : 
 
 " So you have come back. We thought you were dead 
 long ago. We did not know you had been a madman. 
 What do you mean to do with yourself?" 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 I WAS now under my father's roof, and intolerably 
 wretched. Lady Mary treated me with coldness, and con- 
 tempt, and mockery. My father was immersed in politics 
 and money-getting. With him, indeed, the first was only 
 a means to the second, for he was above all vulgar notions 
 of patriotism or public duty. He never came near me. I 
 secluded myself with my books. He did not appear to 
 remember that at the top of the house such a person was 
 in existence. I could not bear to go out, or even to look 
 into the bright open air. Francesca was lost to me forever. 
 This was the fixed conviction on my soul. I should have 
 run away again and sought Manasam and the encampment, 
 but I had undone myself by my flight with Francesca and 
 my encounter with the Gypsy Queen. I should have wan- 
 dered back to Sale and Cave, and my literary friends but 
 why labor now at the oar, when I had no incentive to work ? 
 when I had no Francesca to cheer me, no companion 
 whose wants I might supply ? I sank into a species of 
 lethargy; all my powers were wrapped in lassitude. I 
 could not bear to see or speak to any one. I ate my meals 
 alone and in silence. I did not suffer the servants to ad- 
 dress me. I signified my wants by signs. I was quiet only 
 when I was wholly solitary. I could not endure to look 
 upon a human face. It seemed the outward visible sign of
 
 348 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 villany and falsehood. I then thoroughly, for the first time 
 grew a hater of my species. 
 
 At the end of a year I woke out of my dreams, and began 
 again to mingle with ordinary life. I labored hard to store 
 my mind with knowledge, and I think I succeeded to some 
 extent. My position was strange. I was the only son and 
 expected heir of a great Commoner, yet I was allowed only 
 something like ten pounds a year for all my wants. I was 
 not absolutely expelled out of my father's house, but this 
 was all I was just tolerated there. If I pleased, I could 
 have gone ; if I pleased, I could stay. This was the cheer- 
 ing sort of alternative that was every day presented to me. 
 For sympathy I did not look, for I was conscious of the 
 hate of one and the indifference of the other, and I ardently 
 reciprocated both sentiments. They thought, I suppose, 
 that as I was dependent on Mr. Montagu for wealth, I 
 should fall down prostrate and worship whenever his name 
 was mentioned ; but I scorned himself and his money 
 equally ; I would not enslave myself or degrade my soul 
 by a lying pretence of a love which I did not feel for all 
 his wealth, or for all the wealth of England. While I pur- 
 sued my present course I respected myself; but if I became 
 his serf, I should have so loathed my own meanness that I 
 should have cut my throat to avoid the horror of reflection. 
 The fashionable world could not understand why I did not 
 adore the man who owned a million, and so it was kiudty 
 set down by the mass of boobies to my own perversity, and 
 wickedness, and folly a notion which my mother kindly 
 encouraged. Wherever she went, she represented me as a 
 rogue, blockhead, weathercock, and liar. Fortunately, she 
 was now so well understood that her calumnies did me no 
 harm ; and there were some who even judged for themselves. 
 The women, by their advances, told me I was handsome ; 
 the men, by their sneers and envy, and affected coldness, 
 convinced me that I was learned ; but I needed not either
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 349 
 
 the women or the men to give me this pleasing information, 
 for my looking-glass informed me of the first, and my con- 
 science whispered me of the second. For a year I lived as 
 I have described; after this I went into the "gay world," 
 where every thing was false, hollow, and melancholy. 
 There was a perpetual hunt after pleasure, and as perpetual 
 a disappointment. It was sought in routs, balls, ridottos, 
 and masquerades ; in the opera, at auctions, and in great 
 supper parties ; in races, china shops, lotteries, and gam- 
 bling. This latter virtue the women carried to an out- 
 rageous extent, and my mother was perpetually involved 
 in money squabbles, in consequence of her reverses at cards ; 
 in stock-jobbing also, in which the leaders of fine society 
 mingled with the basest covetousness and the most shame- 
 faced boldness ; in gallantry and intrigue, with a total 
 scorn of the seventh Commandment. But though quested 
 after in these various spheres of joy, happiness eluded her 
 votaries; and the haggard face, the wrinkled brow, the 
 sickly smile that never sank beneath the surface, attested 
 the disappointment and the vanity of human wishes when 
 centred only in externals. 
 
 I take pride in myself that I always despised these follies ; 
 nor did I less bitterly scorn their wretched votaries ; what 
 to me at this period were the painted smiles of the vain 
 things in brocade and gold, who I had almost written 
 which paraded the drawing-room, or sparkled in the 
 dance ? I tested them only by one woman, who was per- 
 fect, and I need not add they would not bear comparison. 
 The innocent beauty of my Francesca every day rose up 
 before me like a vision of Paradise upon some enraptured 
 mystic; those eyes, full of virgin light, that hair that 
 sparkled so lustrously over her snow-white neck, as I have 
 since seen the golden beam of sunset rest upon an Alpine 
 peak; that mouth, so full of beauty; that voice, which was 
 like harp strings agitated by the summer breeze, so soft,
 
 350 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 so sweet, so musical, so exquisitely thrilling ; that sonnd 
 sense and exquisite understanding which, though a child, 
 she manifested in all things ; her elevated ambition ; her 
 sympathy with all noble and pure aspirations. These were 
 what I had lost in her, and feared that I had lost forever. 
 How discover her ? How ascertain if she was not even at 
 this present moment in the hands of the gypsies, subjected 
 to the chance of death, wrong, outrage ? I knew not what, 
 and scarcely dared to think. 
 
 There was not one of those women who moved around 
 us that would not have surrendered herself body and soul 
 to the young heir of the wealthy Wortley Montagu. I was 
 now eighteen, tall, lively, enterprising; my descent was 
 good, my connections powerful. What more did I need to 
 become their god ? Nothing. But I did not profit by my 
 opportunity. A profound grief kept me and preserved me 
 sacred. No morning dawned that I did not devise some 
 scheme to discover tidings of my beloved; no sun sank 
 without witnessing my baffled hope and renewed disap- 
 pointment. Yet I rose again next day, confident as before, 
 but still doomed to the vesper mockery of my hopes. I 
 employed emissaries, as much as my scanty means and 
 credit would enable me to do, and despatched them in all 
 directions for tidings such as I desired. I sought out the 
 mad-house, or private prison where I had been confined, 
 but the place was untenanted and desolate. The persons 
 who had occupied it disappeared immediately after my 
 liberation, and left no trace that could lead to their dis- 
 covery. I went myself and saw the landlord. He ap- 
 peared to be a sort of Quaker, and like Hogden, and others 
 of my electioneering hj^pocritical friends, made great pre- 
 tensions to piety ; he even affected to sympathize with me 
 for I hinted my sufferings but he could give me no in- 
 formation of his former tenants. I knew by his look that 
 he lied, but it was useless to tell him that I thought so.
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 351 
 
 Among those who saw me frequently at this period was 
 my cousin Fielding the chance companion in my first 
 wild escapade to Oxford. He was now a literary character 
 of some repute. His father, General Fielding, had thrown 
 him loose upon London almost without a penny, and he 
 began to live by his wits, or rather to starve by them, for 
 nothing could be more precarious than his mode of sub- 
 sistence. He was scarcely twenty, when in 1727, four years 
 or so before the period of which I am now writing, he 
 picked up a sort of scrambling acquaintance with the 
 players, to whom wit, conviviality and gay humor are al- 
 ways a recommendation, and became intimate with Wilkes 
 and Gibber, who introduced him to Mrs. Oldfield, then pre- 
 serving by her bounteous generosity the wretched Savage 
 from starvation. He described his exact position in one 
 sentence. " I had no alternative," he said, " but to become 
 a hackney coachman, or a hackney writer, and I chose the 
 latter." Ah! me, methinks he would have been more for- 
 tunate, had he taken to the rein, or even to the road, than 
 to literature in this accursed era. The poor youth, driven 
 to his wit's ends to pay his tailor, or buy a dinner, or 
 supply his father, scribbled off a comedy called "Love in 
 several Masques" which was produced at Drury Lane, and 
 dedicated to my mother in virtue of her relationship to the 
 distressed author. Like all writers, he fooled her to the 
 top of her bent, as far as flattery was concerned ; and had 
 she possessed only a tithe of those magnificent qualities 
 for which he gave her credit, I should not have written 
 these Confessions, nor would my father have left his hardly- 
 hoarded money to a Scotch scoundrel like Bute. But poor 
 Fielding was not the first who mistook a cloud for a god- 
 dess ; for he got nothing from Lady Mary but a smile. 
 His relationship, and connection with the papers, however, 
 produced him an introduction into our house, which was 
 of some use to a young fellow struggling hard in the wild
 
 352 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 sea of London. Lady Mary, I suppose, discovered from 
 him our accidental meeting when boys so many years ago, 
 and she now threw us together. I rather suspect her ob- 
 ject was to let Fielding drag me into his own headlong 
 course of dissipation, as a means of making me forget my 
 Francesca ; for my lady well knew by this time that I was 
 married, and though she could have no doubt that Francesca 
 was of noble birth, still she always spoke of her as " a wash- 
 erwoman," which would have been laughable for its absurd- 
 ity, only that it was galling for its insolence. From several 
 circumstances I began to fancy that Lady Mary herself 
 was privy to the plot which had rudely separated us both ; 
 for she exhibited so much malignity and feminine spite 
 whenever that loved name was mentioned by me, that I 
 could scarcely attribute either to exist against one who 
 was an entire stranger. I subsequently learned that my 
 suspicions were correct, and that while Lady Mary well 
 knew nearly every thing relating to Francesca, she took 
 care to give them such a coloring to my father, that he also 
 believed like the rest of the world, that she was of ignoble 
 birth, and little better than an impostor who inveigled a 
 rich man's son into a marriage with the most sordid view. 
 Fielding was too noble a fellow, and too sharpwitted 
 also, to be made a complying tool of, even by one so inge- 
 nious as Lady Mary. Himself a man of quick and ardent 
 sensibilities, and notwithstanding all his grossness, of the 
 purest sentimentalism when true love was in the debate ; 
 he was so moved by my artless descriptions of her whom I 
 had lost, and of* the felicity we had enjoyed in our brief 
 summer time of rapture, that I have seen the tears roll 
 down his manly face, and he would sit for several minutes 
 in a thoughtful reverie, in which sympathy for me had a 
 large share, and hatred of my enemies a still larger. So 
 far from conducting me into those scenes of boisterous 
 madness, in which he was nightly indulging, and which
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 353 
 
 finally destroyed one of the finest constitutions ever given 
 to a man, he dissuaded me from any such resource, and 
 deplored his own failings with a bitterness that was sincere 
 at the moment, but which melted away in the first glass of 
 generous- claret that he swallowed. He even aided me in 
 my inquiries, under a solemn pledge that I would not dis- 
 cover him to my lady ; and from his versatile acquaintance 
 with human nature, and his profound sense, wherever his 
 own passions did not interfere, he gave me advice as to 
 her discovery, which would probably have been successful, 
 had Francesca been in England. But an incident that 
 occurred soon after, by putting me in the right track for 
 discovering her, proved that all my efforts had been mis- 
 directed, and that I failed, because to succeed was an im- 
 possibility. 
 
 Fielding was in the habit of talking to me about his 
 literary projects, and I communicated to him in time what 
 I had learned from Akiba my Gooroo. We had many dis- 
 putations on the metempsychosis, or transmigration of 
 souls, and it was after one of the conferences that he men- 
 tioned to me his notion of writing a little novel on that 
 subject, in which, using this Brahminical doctrine, he 
 might give expression to that curious medley of observa- 
 tion and experience which he possessed, and conduct one 
 of his characters through a variety of scenes as mixed and 
 as surprising as those of Gil Bias, or Asmodeus. I ap- 
 proved of the notion, which had every thing in it likely to 
 attract a youthful imagination, and in a few weeks he 
 brought me that sketch of the Emperor Julian, which he 
 afterwards introduced into his strange work entitled, U A 
 Journey from this World to the next." I read it and was 
 pleased. The motley nature of the scenes through which 
 the deceased Emperor transmigrates, operating on an 
 imagination half Arab, half gypsy, deeply impressed my 
 mind, and I thought to myself if I were free this is just 
 23
 
 354 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 the sort of life I should like to lead. I should traverse 
 many lands and appear in many characters. To-day a 
 pilgrim, to-morrow a gentleman, now a soldier, now a mer- 
 chant, this time a sailor, the next a physician, a Jew one 
 week, a Mohammedan the following, a priest, a -fiddler, a 
 quaker or a buffoon, there was rapture in the idea, and I 
 fed my fancy upon it till I had lived through a whole 
 romance. 
 
 In the midst of our discussions, I one morning proposed 
 to him an excursion to Portslade, and an investigation 
 personally into the condition of my gypsy friends. We 
 had a few guineas, and we went by the coach. Some odd 
 adventures befel us, which Fielding afterwards used in his 
 romance of " Joseph Andrews," but they are not worth 
 referring to in this place. We got to Brighthelmstone, 
 and I took up my quarters there at an inn, while Fielding 
 proceeded to the encampment. He was away the whole 
 afternoon, and when he returned late in the evening, he 
 was a good deal excited. He then gave me the following 
 account of his adventures : 
 
 " I took the route you pointed out, and after lingering 
 about the lanes for some time, I pulled out a pocket book, 
 and began to sketch that old ruin, on which the camp of 
 your friends abutted. I had not been very long employed, 
 when a very pretty gypsy came up to me, and asked me to 
 cross her palm with gold. I looked at her sparkling eyes 
 and roguish face, and I half envied you your sojourn 
 among these engaging Ishmaelites. Ah, Wortley, you 
 must have seen some strange amusing sights, and you 
 must give me an account of them in detail some day, for 
 some great and wonderful work of fiction in which we shall 
 go shares. You may suppress all your own intrigues, or 
 dish them up under another name, but you must at least 
 give me a full, true and particular narration of the 
 " ' Battles, dangert, sieges you hare passed.'
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 355 
 
 " I told the wench that gold was to me one of the rarest 
 commodities in the world, but that I would give her a kiss 
 or a piece of silver, if she could tell me where I could find 
 one Manasam, one of her people, as I had a message for 
 him from an old acquaintance. Now, by one of the rarest 
 chances in the world, this girl had known your wife, and 
 had a sort of wild attachment to both of you, and before I 
 had quite finished my sentence, she divined what I came 
 for, and burst out with 
 
 " ' Ah, I know you. You came from Zala-Mayna. Is it 
 not so ?' 
 
 " I was so taken by surprise, that before I had time to 
 invent a lie I was forced to confess that it was so, and 
 when I had so disburdened my soul, she said 
 
 " Well, I am glad you have come. We have all been 
 sorry for the poor boy, and have wished a thousand evils 
 on that accursed Dom Balthazar for interfering with them ; 
 but Zala-Mayna did wrong to strike the Gypsy Queen, and 
 it will never be forgiven by the tribe. Had he been seized 
 that night, he would have been- stoned to death such is 
 the penalty by our law ; and even still, if he should be in 
 their power, I know not but they would inflict it. But if 
 you give me the piece of silver you spoke of, I will seek 
 out Manasam though I should be sorry any of the tribe 
 knew what I was doing. However, Dom Balthazar is gone, 
 so I don't fear much.' 
 
 " I gave her the silver ; but when I offered her what 1 
 thought would have been the more agreeable half of the 
 present, namely the kiss, she gave me a smart slap in the 
 face, which I assure you I feel still. 
 
 " She then told me that I must not linger in the place 
 but get back to the town as speedily as I could. 'It would 
 never do,' she said, ' for Mauasam and myself to be seen 
 together. There were a dozen prying eyes always about> 
 the camp, and Manasam had always shown so much sorrow
 
 356 EDWARD WORT LEY MONTAGU. 
 
 for Zala-Mayna's misadventure that he was narrowly 
 watched by the tribe, and would get into trouble if he were 
 seen conversing with me. She asked me where I stayed, 
 and I told her. I expect the gypsy here to-night." 
 
 Ordering up a fresh bottle, he opened wide his legs before 
 the fire, and threw himself back in his chair, with the ap- 
 parent determination of a man who has made up his mind 
 to enjoy himself for the remainder of the evening with the 
 best that he could get. The wine appeared, and after a 
 hearty glass, Fielding resumed 
 
 " Wortley, my dear boy, I don't know what your lady 
 mother will say to me if she ever finds out I have been 
 your companion in this adventure. If she should, no more 
 Twickenham for me; no more sugared compliments. I 
 shall become as odious to her as Pope or Swift, and she 
 will pursue me with unrelenting lampoonery 
 
 * Women, you know, do seldom fail 
 To make the stoutest men turn tail, 
 And bravely scorn to turn their backs 
 Upon the despcratest attacks. 
 
 "But I suppose I must risk all, for there is a spice of 
 adventure about this love-feat of yours that pleases me, 
 and I verily believe it is just the sort of thing I should 
 myself have liked above all others. For there is so much 
 paint, folly, and flippant falsehood about our court and 
 drawing-room dames, that I would any day prefer a hay- 
 maker or milkmaid to the finest duchess in the land so 
 long, I mean, as I had the price of a dinner and a bottle in 
 my pocket. That is a rare occurrence." And my cousin 
 sighed from his very heart. He solaced himself with an- 
 other glass, and as he did so Manasam was announced. 
 
 The gypsy was little altered since I had last seen him. 
 I rose up and shook him warmly by the hand. I looked 
 into his eyes, and could see that his friendship was sincere. 
 He felt an honest interest in my welfare, that was written
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 857 
 
 there as plainly as it was possible for Nature to write. Pot 
 Nature pens his character on the front of every man in 
 letters plainly legible to all who use their eyes, and they 
 who do not deserve to be deceived. I have never yet seen 
 that face which was not to rne as an open book, wherein 
 every trait of the soul, every passion of the heart, every 
 habit of the spirit was clearly traced by the unerring hand 
 of Nature, or rather of God ; and as He cannot deceive or be 
 deceived, it is we only who err in our estimate of human- 
 kind for want of bestowing proper attention upon those 
 with whom we come in contact. Were I a monarch or 
 a prime minister, I would undertake that no man should 
 ever enter my immediate service until he had passed through 
 my close scrutiny ; and this obtained, I should not be de- 
 ceived. No man or woman has ever misled me, for where 
 my observation fails, instinct comes to my aid, and I know 
 them all thoroughly and well, though under the most artful 
 mask. This probably is one of the reasons why I take a 
 more gloomy view of life, and indulge in more sarcastic 
 observations than pleases the many. For as they judge by 
 the mere outside, they are every moment deceived by their 
 own superficiality, taking mankind for what they appear 
 to be; and as it is the interest of the majority to seem. 
 good, the shallow suppose them to be what they seem, and 
 all those who have penetrated deeper they call misanthro- 
 pists, evil minded, and detractors. I who have the art of 
 piercing beneath the false outside, and beholding, as in a 
 map, all the true nature of a man, delineated unto even its 
 finest strokes, speak of them as I find them, and as God 
 will see them on that dreadful day of judgment, when the 
 secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed. Hence, if in this 
 narrative I please, I shall please few; the great mob of 
 readers will run after him who paints man in genial colors, 
 and thus contributes to those delusions which delight us 
 all, even when they mislead us most. 
 23
 
 358 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 I invited Manasam to be seated, and poured out a glass 
 for him ; but with the abstemious habits of his people, he 
 declined the draught. He took a biscuit and began. 
 
 "Much, Zala-Mayna, have I longed for this hour; 
 much have I lamented that I knew not where you could be 
 found, or that I heard not from you. I returned some 
 days after you had fled. Dom Balthazar had broke his leg 
 when his horse fell on him ; he lay on the road till day- 
 break, when he was discovered by some of our people who 
 had tracked your course. He said that he had ascertained 
 your real name and position that you were of great and 
 noble blood, and had deceived our trusting people with 
 a false device. It was rumored also that he was to receive 
 a sum of money for bringing you back to your father and 
 mother ; and a large reward if he could separate you and 
 Francesca forever. I rather fancy he knows her uncle. I 
 rather think he is in his employ to find Francesca out, and 
 that if he can by any means place her in his hands, great 
 will be the treasure he is to receive. Guard her therefore, O 
 Zala-Mayna, as the life-blood of your heart from Dom Bal- 
 thazar, for he will pai-t you if he can." 
 
 I groaned, but remained silent. Manasam was evidently 
 ignorant of the loss that I had sustained. I did not inter- 
 rupt him. 
 
 "The Gypsy Queen also vowed a vow of vengeance 
 against you. It was resolved in full assembly that if you 
 were discovered and brought back you should die. Akiba 
 and I were not of this council ; if we had been, we proba- 
 bly should have felt ourselves constrained to sanction it, 
 for it is a law of our people, and cannot be broken. The 
 person of the Queen is sacred. Dom Balthazar disappeared 
 from among us for many moons ; at length he returned 
 and announced that you were a prisoner. He was asked 
 why he had not brought you to the tents, that you might 
 die ? He laughed, and produced gold gold immense the
 
 EDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 359 
 
 price of your bondage. This, he said, the tribe gains by 
 his life but nothing should we secure by his death. The 
 gold was divided. Yet there were many who would have 
 preferred vengeance, and the law. Dom Balthazar said no 
 more. In a few days he departed for Spain, where he now 
 is. He dropped mysterious hints, but we understood them 
 not. Since then we have lived as before ; but no one has 
 inquired for Francesca ; she is safe with you. Is it not so, 
 Zala-Mayna?" 
 
 Alas ! I could not answer. Fielding told him of my loss. 
 Manasam was affected. We consulted what was to be 
 done ; but nothing seemed to offer us a chance of discover- 
 ing where Francesca was. She had evidently been lured 
 away by Dom Balthazar but whither ? 
 
 A light flashed on me. 
 
 " You said he went to Spain, Manasam. What business 
 bore him thither?" Manasam did not know. 
 
 " Depend upon it," said Fielding, " Francesca is in a 
 Spanish Conve^;, and Dom Balthazar was her convoy. I 
 know the gentlemen of these places, and what they will do 
 for gold. Many of the abbots are Zingari themselves." 
 
 I restored Manasam his pistols, and offered him five 
 guineas. He accepted the first, but peremptorily refused 
 the second. After a long interview we separated for the 
 night. He promised to see me again next day. On the 
 morrow he came with Akiba. I was pleased to see this 
 old man. Fielding was greatly struck by him. He said, 
 he made him think of the ghost of Samuel appearing to 
 Saul. We dined and passed the whole day together. I 
 invited him to divine for us. Akiba at first refused ; but 
 he could not long withstand entreaties urged so passionately 
 as mine were. He called for water, and dropped a small 
 quantity into my hand ; he then threw me into a magnetic 
 trance, such as I had once before witnessed when he used 
 the mystical Waren. And this was what I then saw.
 
 360 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 A small cell of hewn stone was opened before me, the 
 light penetrated dimly through iron bars. There was a 
 wretched pallet and a jug of water. It seemed an apart- 
 ment in some vast building. An air of gloom pervaded 
 the whole scene ; it was in the shadow of mighty mountains. 
 Every thing seemed still, desolate and monotonous. A small 
 book lay on the floor ; a rosary was on the bed. It might 
 have been at first sight a dungeon, but there was no 
 warder's tread, nor clank of chain. It impressed me with 
 the notion of one of those immense convents that are found 
 in such great numbers all through the Peninsula ; prisons 
 indeed, and full of dungeons, and horrors and dread secrets ; 
 but guarded by a force stronger than that of sentinel or 
 fetter the force of ignorance and superstition. As I looked, 
 the idea of solitude, silence, desolation and wretchedness 
 became more and more impressed on my mind. I could 
 feel them like a heavy weight upon my heart ; they loaded 
 me ; they weighed me down like atmospheric pressure. I 
 could discover in that pressure the sad and fearful mass of 
 Bufferings, sorrow and despair that were congregated within 
 that dreadful place. My heart was filled almost to bursting. 
 
 Suddenly a door in the cell opened. I Heavens, how 
 shall I support this sight? It was my Francesca my 
 loved, my adored, my lost wife. Gloom and wretchedness 
 were printed deeply in every feature; her eyes were red 
 with weeping ; they were fixed with a cold despair. That 
 young face bore the tracks of tears the furrows of age 
 were already methought traced upon it. She entered with 
 a slow step the step of one who moves despondingly to 
 the scaffold, and who seeks to protract every minute be- 
 tween himself and fate. There was a whole volume of 
 misery in that measured walk she who had been so light, 
 so buoyant ; like the thistle down that swims on the sum- 
 mer breeze like the winged beautiful moth that floats in 
 sunshine and dances on the passing winds ; like the spark-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 861 
 
 ling wave that rises to the sunbeam and is wafted with a 
 motion like that of music to the strand. I would have 
 spoken, but I could not. I would have stretched out my 
 arms to enfold her, for she seemed within my reach ; but 
 the magnetic force held me tight within its grasp, and I 
 was powerless in every limb. Eye and brain alone were 
 free ; for the rest I was a marble statue. Her heart heaved ; 
 a heavy sigh burst forth, but it was not followed by tears ; 
 alas ! that sweet fountain must have been drained dry. She 
 took the rosary, looked at it a moment, and put it away. 
 She raised the book and strove to read, but I could see 
 that though her eyes were turned upon its page, her 
 thoughts wandered away, and were afar off. She raised her 
 head to the bars, and sighed again deeply. Then leaning 
 on her hand- she covered her face, and bursting into an 
 agony of woe, flung herself on the hard floor. 
 
 Akiba saw my agony, and released me from my trance. 
 Oh ! who can tell what misery I felt ? I was again mad as 
 I had been before. It required the strength of all three to 
 hold me. The paroxysm lasted for some minutes ; at length 
 I fell exhausted. Next day Fielding told me what had 
 passed, and accompanied me to London. When I got to 
 Twickenham, without a moment's pause I rushed into my 
 mother's room. She was reading a letter, which she has- 
 tily crushed up when she saw me. 
 
 " Woman," I cried, "give me back my wife of whom you 
 have robbed me. Give her back to me, or tremble." 
 
 She seemed frightened at my energy. It was enough to 
 make her so. She grew white as death. But the clever 
 woman conquered her fears immediately, and half smiled. 
 
 "Mad boy," she said; "what do you say? How know I 
 any thing of that person? I suppose she is making up 
 fine linen somewhere. If she wanted you she would have 
 found you by this." 
 
 "Woman," I answered; "not worthy of the name of
 
 362 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 mother; cold, heartless and wicked as you are; have yon 
 so utterly lost all human feeling as to see me die before 
 your face by inches and not stretch forth a hand to save ? 
 You have ever been my bitterest enemy. You have pois- 
 oned my father's heart against me. You have sought to 
 drive me forth forever from his roof. Well, exult, rejoice, 
 be glad at length, for you have succeeded. Give me but a 
 hundred pounds and I will leave your sight forever. Give 
 it me this moment, for I am half mad." 
 
 "A hundred pounds ! and for what ? To give to your 
 pretty laundress ?" 
 
 I could have stabbed her that instant. But I answered 
 coldly, " I want to go to Spain." 
 
 She started involuntarily, but almost instantly recovered 
 herself. I watched her with an intent, calm gaze. I thought 
 T saw her guilt in that unconscious start. 
 
 " To Spain, fool, and why ?" 
 
 "Madam," I answered, "you know. Give me the 
 money." 
 
 " I have none," she replied ; " and if I had I am not going 
 to let you squander it in frenzy. We have had enough of 
 this already. Leave the room ; I am engaged." 
 
 *' What," I said, " you are engaged ? With what ? and 
 how? With love-letters from your Hervey ?" she gave 
 another start "with assignations and intrigues; with 
 satirical verses on all your female friends and male pur- 
 suers, and all the devilish machinery that makes the fabric 
 of your whole life ? Well, go on. There shall come a day 
 when I also shall have my hour of retribution. I go ; I 
 leave your presence. Solace yourself with your daughter. 
 Deceive, plot, scheme, to enrich her with all that is justly 
 mine, and let that heartless cully, who thinks himself her 
 father, endow her with imperial wealth. Even this shall 
 not break my spirit, nor make me bend to either. Nemesis 
 will avenge me, and in the gloomy evening of your life,
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 863 
 
 when frivolity shall fail, and folly cease to charm, you 
 shall curse this hour, and pine amid a land of strangers 
 and of foes for the soothing presence of your son." 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 I WENT straight to Fielding. That admirable philoso- 
 pher was then living at Buckingham street, in the Strand. 
 By a rare chance I found him at home. He was usually 
 denied to all inquirers. He was stretched on a sofa, a 
 bottle of wine by his side, and a plate of cold meat. A 
 lady's black silk mask and a pair of gold fringed gloves 
 gave evidence of some affair of the heart. His table was 
 covered with papers, and he was evidently hard at work at 
 a comedy or a love-letter when I entered. I informed him 
 of what had just happened. He laughed a good deal at 
 the scene with Lady Mary. Filling out a glass of wine, 
 which he pushed towards me, he said, " This is my cure for 
 all troubles; let me recommend it also to you;" and he 
 almost forced me to drink it off. He helped himself to an- 
 other and another, and then asked me what I meant to do 
 with myself. 
 
 " I mean to leave England and seek Francesca." 
 
 " A very good resolution," he answered. " How many 
 thousands have you got out of the old gentleman ? I hope 
 you have bled him finely. Faith I should not mind going 
 with you." 
 
 "Thousands!" I replied, "why I have come to borrow 
 a few pounds from you. Thousands, indeed, from Mr. 
 Montagu you must be jesting." 
 
 Fielding looked at me with great gravity ; he seemed to 
 doubt whether I was in my senses.
 
 364 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 "Upon my soul, Wortley," says he, when his amaze- 
 ment had worn off, " if mine were a jest, your notion is far 
 more comical. To think of borrowing a few pounds from 
 me, who live by borrowing pounds, shillings, and pence 
 from every one else, is right good, and I congratulate you 
 on the bright idea. It was worthy of the Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer. Why, how do you expect I live ?" 
 
 " By your wits, doubtless, and they coin gold. Besides, 
 your father allows you an annuity." 
 
 " I wish to heaven, my boy, it were so, and none should 
 share it sooner with me than yourself; but though my 
 father makes me an allowance, he always forgets to pay it. 
 I have not had a shilling which I could call my own for 
 the last six months. I am now driven to my last shift. I 
 should take a rope, or go on the highway, but for this 
 comfort claret. Colley will no longer lend me any thing, 
 and though Mrs. Clive wants me to become her debtor, it 
 is a thing I never will do. She has a father, a husband, a 
 sister, and herself to support. Why should such a worth- 
 less fellow as Harry Fielding be added to the number? 
 Yet it is with difficulty I can refuse her generosity ; and it 
 gives me pain to see her feel my refusal as a slight. But, 
 poor as I am, 1 will never act in a way unworthy of a man 
 of honor. But let me see let me see can't we swindle 
 some damned tailor out of fifty pounds ?" 
 
 " I do not possess so rare an appendage as a tailor. 
 My father has never suffered me to order my own clothes ; 
 he has always kept me like a boy, and I do not know a 
 single tradesman." 
 
 " It is a most infernal shame," says Fielding, " for if you 
 had, we could easily have got plenty of money out of the 
 rogues, and would have a trip together to the dominions 
 of His Most Catholic Majesty, where we might get some- 
 thing from the priests for turning Papists. What then 
 is to be done ?"
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 365 
 
 Why, I suppose I must go away without money." 
 
 "A capital notion excellent excellent. You mean, I 
 suppose, to get out of England as Sinbad did out of his dia- 
 mond cave, by tying yourself to a roc. Isn't that it ?" 
 
 I shook my head. 
 
 " Well, then, I know no other method for a man without 
 money to get into Spain. What's your project ?" 
 
 "I intend simply to go on board ship, and work my 
 passage out as a common sailor." 
 
 Fielding looked at me incredulously. He laughed, and 
 took another glass of wine. The notion seemed to take 
 him by surprise. He had evidently never before thought 
 of such a thing. 
 
 " Well," he said, " if you who can raise unlimited thou- 
 sands by post obits, or by going in debt to the Jews, are 
 such a regular nincompoop as to prefer working your 
 passage out before the mast, by the labor of your hands, 
 why I will put you into my Common-place book, among 
 the most remarkable eccentricities in England ; and would 
 certainly introduce you on the stage in one of my farces, 
 only that, if I did, I fear it would be damned by the critics 
 for being false to all modern notions of nature and reality." 
 
 " However that may be, I will cheat no one, except my- 
 self, and will never raise a penny on post obits or by the 
 Jews. I should be a common swindler if I did ; for I know 
 my father will never leave me a sixpence." 
 
 ** And is there a young man of fashion in England or 
 out of it, who would not swindle a Jew or a tailor if he 
 could ? Are not they ever engaged in swindling us f What 
 then is the lex talionis for?" 
 
 " For rogues, no doubt ; but not for you or me, Harry." 
 
 " Well, Wortley, I believe there is some good in you 
 still. Who the devil is that ?" and Fielding half rose, as if 
 about to retreat, and turned rather pale, as he heard rather 
 a loud knock at the door. His fears, however, were as in-
 
 866 BDWAED WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 stantly dispelled, for a vulgar, bull-puppy-faced, short man, 
 with a hard, cunning, sensual eye, and coarse mouth en- 
 tered. It proved to be our old acquaintance, Colley Gibber. 
 
 " I protest to Heaven !" says the dramatist, "you fright- 
 ened me. I thought you were a bailiff; and if I did not 
 know you, I should have taken you for one when you 
 entered." 
 
 " Mr. Fielding," says Gibber, " I am obliged to you for 
 the compliment ; but I want to know whether that foolish 
 farce is finished which we have been so long expecting ? I 
 think it is now some ten months since it was paid for." 
 
 " Oh, you old rogue," replied Fielding, " sit down ; have 
 a glass, and let me tell you what Kitty Clive said about 
 you t'other day." And he immediately, with infinite live- 
 liness, invented a scene, in which Mrs. Clive had professed 
 the greatest admiration for Gibber, whom she described as 
 a perfect husband, father, wit, fine gentleman, actor, and I 
 don't know what else besides. The old fool swallowed it 
 all down like honey, and forgot to pester Fielding about 
 the farce or, what was really as bad, to remind him that 
 it had been paid for. He drank a glass or two, and then, 
 for the first time, began to recognize me. 
 
 " My good Mr. Smith," he said, " I did not remember 
 you. Pray excuse me, and let me know how you are get- 
 ting on." 
 
 Fielding stared at him with great amazement. Gibber, 
 however, did not notice it, and I gave the dramatist a look. 
 He smiled archly. 
 
 " Colley," he said, " what in Lucifer's name do you mean 
 by calling my cousin Montagu by that rascally misnomer ? 
 Smith Smith allow me, sir, to present you to him, and 
 then make one of your best stage bows. Mr. Colley Gib- 
 ber, patentee of the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, I present 
 you to Mr. Wortley Montagu, Junior, only son and heir of 
 the Right Honorable Edward Wortley Montagu, Lord of
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 867 
 
 the Treasury, &c., &c., and Lady Mary Wortley, daughter 
 of His Grace the Duke of Kingston. Cousin Montag^ 
 know Mr. Colley Gibber, who is one of the most refined 
 rakes, rogues, and wits in Great Britain." 
 
 I was covered with confusion. Old Gibber almost hum- 
 bled himself in the dust before me. Never was seen a more 
 wonderful change from patronizing politeness into crawling 
 subserviency. Gibber had always behaved to me as a re- 
 spectable elder, with a position well established, to a poor 
 devil of a junior, with no position at all, or probably with 
 even no prospect of one. But here was a magic change, 
 indeed. The only son and heir of the richest man in London 
 was before him, and he at once grovelled in the dust at my 
 feet. Fielding saw and enjoyed the rapid metamorphosis 
 but I was wholly confounded. The old rogue saw it, 
 and hastened to relieve me. 
 
 "Ah," he said, "I see an intrigue sly sly damnably 
 sly. In the city, too! as Mr. Smith capital! capital! 
 quite a dramatic incident, full of novelty and fire, damme 
 but who would have thought it ? Mr. Wortley Montagu, 
 I am proud and honored in renewing or rather I should 
 say in making so distinguished an acquaintance. May I 
 present you with a pinch of snuff?" 
 
 We talked on various matters. Gibber was great on his 
 friend Lord Chesterfield, and other noble lords whose toady 
 he was. Rumor said he supplied them with actresses ; but 
 all managers of theatres do this for their patrons so that 
 there was nothing wonderful in that. I have known one 
 of the most charming, modest, talented young creatures in 
 the world, who sought employment at a royal theatre ; her 
 recommendations from country managers, under whom she 
 had eminently distinguished herself, were first-rate. The 
 director looked at them scornfully, but at herself imperti- 
 nently. " Well," he said, " all this is very fine ; but if I 
 engage you, you must get somebody to take a private box
 
 868 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 we have some remaining at a hundred guineas." The 
 young creature was silent. It was her first visit to London, 
 and she did not understand him. 
 
 " Private box hundred guineas," she murmured. " My 
 dear sir, I don't know what you mean. I have come to 
 ask employment, and you tell me I must take a private 
 box." 
 
 The manager looked at her with curiosity. Such vestal 
 ignorance was rather new. At first he did not believe it 
 possible that any one should be so benighted in these pol- 
 ished times; but a searching glance into her clear eye 
 showed that she really was so. 
 
 "Madam," he answered, "we have applications every 
 day from scores of young women, all as clever, pretty, and 
 well recommended as yourself. We are in no want of 
 talent the town is pleased with what it gets. But you 
 want to make a name in London to win a reputation. 
 Well, you must pay for it. It is worth your while to make 
 some sacrifice to get on the boards. Get some nobleman 
 or gentleman to take a private box, and if he does so, we 
 will then take you on. If you can't do this, you can't act 
 here." 
 
 Even still she did not understand him. She replied : 
 " But, sir, I don't know any one in the world who would do 
 such a thing for me; I have none to depend upon but 
 myself." 
 
 "Very well," said the manager, "good morning; but 
 you needn't come here again." 
 
 And this system, to my absolute knowledge, now pre- 
 vails almost universally at all the great theatres and I 
 suppose it will extend to the minor ones in time. So re- 
 fined a people have we become! The honorable writers 
 and critics connected with these haunts of infamy take 
 good care not to let the gentle public into the secret ; and
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 869 
 
 I believe I am the first who ever did so. I have no doubt 
 I shall receive my reward abuse. 
 
 In all these matters, Colley was of course a proficient. 
 Oh, how the old rogue crowed, laughed, rejoiced, revelled 
 in his scoundrelism. If you could believe himself, he was 
 the most desperate villain alive. No age or rank, or sex, 
 or condition was sacred from his profanation. Every man 
 was a scoundrel ; every woman a wanton. Thus he ran 
 on. He furnished examples as he went along, that his 
 views were not merely theoretical but founded on solid 
 facts. Did he weep, lament, or sigh over this ? Not he. 
 He gloried in it ; he triumphed in the universal baseness. 
 He enumerated his own debaucheries, gaming, subservi- 
 ency, and filth, until it made me sick. Here was an old 
 man, upwards of seventy, who seemed a walking demon, 
 and was proud to be considered so. 
 
 Fielding at length came to the point at which he had 
 evidently been running for half-an-hour. With fine irony 
 he began as follows : 
 
 " After all, Colley, from what I have known of you, you 
 are a good man, a feeling man, a kind man, with all your 
 eccentricities. Just hear me, and when I have done, say 
 whether you have not an opportunity of performing one of 
 the noblest acts that ever man did ?" 
 
 Gibber's eyes sparkled. He was evidently glad of this 
 encomium on his merits, thus made in my presence. 
 
 " Mr. Fielding," he said, " I shall be glad to know what 
 you mean." 
 
 u It is not for myself I speak," resumed my cousin. " I 
 know if I were in the lowest pit of Tartarus, or even worse, 
 in the Fleet Prison, you would not get me out if ten pounds 
 paid down would do it. Nor do I complain of that. Nay, 
 don't look so surprised, but help yourself to another glass 
 I shouldn't ask the money, and you wouldn't give it, so 
 24
 
 870 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 no harm would be done; but I now speak to you for 
 another." 
 
 Fielding narrated a most piteous tale that would have 
 drawn tears from the hardest congregation, and melted 
 even a company of professed Christians. I only recollect 
 the outlines. A young girl in the country, the daughter 
 of a painter, beautiful and innocent, engaged to be married 
 to a gentleman whom she devotedly loved ; the day fixed 
 for the wedding ; the father thrown into prison by an un- 
 relenting creditor, who took advantage of the approaching 
 union ; poor old man seized with paralysis : another week's 
 confinement will destroy him ; the debt is only fifty pounds ; 
 the daughter takes the whole liability on herself; the father 
 is released ; the lover is disgusted at finding they are so 
 poor, and basely repudiates the match ; the young girl is 
 now arrested by the scoundrel who imprisoned her father ; 
 she is lodged in prison for debt ; the old man dies when 
 he hears the sad news ; will no one release her ? Will no 
 one fly to the rescue of this perishing virgin ? Yes, there 
 is one generous man who will do it to whose heart charity 
 never appealed twice, whose bosom is the shrine of pity. 
 That man is Colley Gibber. 
 
 My cousin stopped. The tears were in his own eyes, so 
 moving was the pathos of his narrative. But he spoke to 
 a rock. 
 
 " Mr. Fielding," says Gibber, " I should be glad to assist 
 this lady, indeed my heart feels for her" the old rogue 
 wiped his eyes, into which he called some theatrical tears 
 " but money, sir, money is very tight just now, and I really 
 cannot do it I really cannot. In a week or so " 
 
 " Zounds, man, in a week she will be dead. She cannot 
 survive her father's loss." 
 
 " Well, then, if it is only a week surely that will make 
 little difference. It is a great pity she was so imprudent.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 871 
 
 I feel for her I feel as if she were a daughter of my own- 
 the dear child ; but money is tight." 
 
 Fielding looked at him and changed the conversation. 
 He rattled on love, gallantry, the stage, the green room. 
 Lord Chesterfield became the subject of his discourse, and 
 he kept us in a perpetual laugh. Suddenly he kept his 
 eye upon Gibber, and said 
 
 "Apropos, Colley, what do you think brings young 
 Montagu here to-day ? His old screw of a father won't 
 lend him fifty pounds, so he came to me to borrow it. Was 
 not that an excellent notion ?" 
 
 " Impossible," answered Colley, " I know hundreds who 
 would lend him thousands." 
 
 "To be sure they would," says my cousin, "but he is a 
 prudent youth, and don't intend to run into their nets. 
 Besides, this is a little private affair of gallantry, and he 
 wishes to be sly quite sly. You understand, Colley, don't 
 you, you elderly sinner ?" 
 
 I protested with my eyes against all this ; but Fielding 
 wouldn't see it, BO he went on in his mad way. Gibber 
 licked his lips. 
 
 " Such a pretty little rogue; only fifteen, fresh from rural 
 scenes, budding into perfect loveliness. Her mother has 
 some scruples ; she won't let him have her unless he pays 
 fifty pounds down to the wretch, and faith he hasn't it. 
 So he came to me. Absurd, Colley, wasn't it ? I tried to 
 persuade him to be moral but youth, youth you know. 
 He is quite in despair about her." 
 
 " Ah ! j r es, youth, youth, and only fifteen did you say ? 
 Upon my soul they would be nicely matched. But that 
 old haridan of a mother ; was there ever any thing so un- 
 reasonable, so wicked ? I did not think there were such 
 wretches in the world. Not sell her daughter to so pretty 
 a young gentleman for less than fifty pounds? Wont 
 even take his word for It? Oh! horrid; the age grows
 
 372 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 quite blasphemous. Mr. Montagu," he added, turning to 
 me, " I shall be forever your debtor if you will honor me 
 by the acceptance of this trifle. It would be cruel to dis- 
 appoint so fine a young gentleman. There is the money; 
 repay it at your leisure. No, no, not a word. I won't 
 take a refusal." And he pulled out his pocket-book and 
 wrote me an order on his goldsmith for fifty pounds, which 
 he thrust into my hand, and before I could prevent him, 
 left the room. 
 
 My first movement was to knock him down and kick 
 Fielding himself; but the latter winked at me, and I de- 
 termined to wait a while and see whither all this tended. 
 When the door was closed on Colley, Fielding flung him- 
 self back on his sofa and laughed for an entire quarter of 
 an hour. He was quite beside himself. I could not make 
 him hear or answer a word. At the end of that time I put 
 the order into the fire. My cousin saw it, but too late to 
 save it. This at once changed his laughter into profound 
 gravity. 
 
 "Zounds! Wortley," he said, "what have you done? 
 You have thrown away fifty pounds." 
 
 I explained to him that I did not approve of the jest ; 
 he saw that I was really angry, and he offered me a hun- 
 dred apologies. 
 
 " Upon my honor, cousin," he said, " I could not resist 
 the temptation of showing up the old vagabond in his true 
 colors. I think I did so, and you must forgive me if I 
 made you the stalking-horse. The thing is done I wish 
 you had kept the money. I beg your pardon." And he 
 held out his hand. I could not refuse it, and we were 
 friends again. 
 
 " Now," said he, " in the name of Lazarillo de Tonnes, 
 Gil Bias, and Sir Robert Walpole as good a beggar as 
 any of them how shall we raise money for the Opera 
 House to-night ? I have made up my mind to go, and you
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAQTT. 873 
 
 shall accompany me. As Falstaff says, ' But what money 
 hast thou in thy purse ?' ' 
 
 I produced it ; it was only two guineas. 
 
 " Bah," said he, " that will never do. Stay here a mo- 
 ment," and he ran into another room, from which he im- 
 mediately returned with a periwig, a blue velvet suit edged 
 with gold, not quite new, a silver-hilted sword, a pair and 
 a half of silk stockings, two shirts, finely laced, a cocked 
 hat, a ring belonging to his grandmother, a family Bible, a 
 pair of red-heeled shoes, and a lady's satin petticoat. 
 
 These he arranged with some neatness and tied into a 
 bundle. I asked him what he was doing. 
 
 " Oh !" he said, " only going to a kind friend, who obliges 
 me with money sometimes, but as I don't like to be outdone 
 in generosity, I usually deposit some little superfluous arti- 
 cles like these with him, and he generally gives me his note 
 of hand." 
 
 " Do you mean a pawnbroker ?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " that is what the vulgar call him. How 
 on earth were you clever enough to make the guess ?" 
 
 The parcel was now tied up. 
 
 " Remain here, Wortley," said he, " for a few minutes." 
 Galloping gayly down stairs, he called a coach, into which 
 he popped with his bundle, singing and whistling like a 
 big Bchool-boy. 
 
 In about a quarter of an hour he returned capering with 
 
 joy. 
 
 " Hurrah ! hurrah !" he said, " Evoe 1 lo Bacchus ! never 
 was any thing so fortunate. I am the luckiest fellow on 
 earth. I am richer than Croesus, or your father. I am the 
 happiest fellow in the world," and he ran up, and putting 
 his arms about me, he kissed me in the excess of his mad- 
 ness. Opening his hand, he produced ten guineas, the 
 gleam of which set him capering again. 
 
 " There," he said, " did I not tell you I was Dives him- 
 24
 
 374 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 self? Now come and let us prepare for the Opera House. 
 No time is to be lost. We shall go in dominoes. All 
 the fine people in the world will be there." 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 I WAS scarcely in any humor to go a-masquerading, but 
 Fielding's genial manner was difficult to resist, and he half 
 thrust me into a mask and domino, amusing his fancy all 
 the while with images of the adventures we should have. 
 We called a coach and got to the Opera House about ten. 
 The rooms were already full, and we resolved to take a 
 survey of them at first before we engaged in any more par- 
 ticular pursuit. There were Soldiers, Monks, Demons, 
 Jews, Priests, Cardinals, Harlequins, Clowns, Shepherd- 
 esses, Kings, Turks, Pantaloons, Bandits, Negroes, Fox- 
 hunters, Princesses, Nuns, Fairies, Frenchmen, Corsairs, 
 and Maids of Honor a motley assemblage, symbolical in 
 its variety of the real world about us. Twenty masks, one 
 after another, ran up to us, and saying, "Do you know 
 me ?" were rather disgusted with our ignorance of one and 
 all ; for we spoke in feigned voices, not intending to reveal 
 ourselves until we had performed the entire circuit of the 
 place. This was at length achieved, and we sat down at a 
 table for some refreshment. 
 
 " Your present condition," said Fielding, who was half- 
 sentimentally tipsy, "reminds me somewhat of Cornifix, 
 Count of TJlfeld, Great Master of Denmark. For this 
 noble person was like you, the son of a great nobleman 
 indeed his father was Lord Chancellor of Denmark, and 
 like you his spirit was so lively that at the age of ten, the
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 875 
 
 old gentleman being wholly unable to control him, or re- 
 duce him within any reasonable bounds, was obliged to 
 send him to Paris under the care of a governor, with strict 
 orders to curb the growth of a most licentious temper. 
 Although he labored in this honorable employment for five 
 years, he was unable to check the young Count, and at the 
 end of that period he wrote to his father, resigning the 
 task in despair. The old man, enraged at such perversity 
 in his son, discarded him forever, and Count Ulfeld, thrown 
 on his own resources before he was sixteen, was little better 
 than a wandering outcast, though whether he went in mas- 
 querade among the gypsies hath not been recorded by the 
 historian. In his last extremity he travelled into Germany, 
 and made his case known to Count Oldenburgh, who was 
 a distant relation. The Count was pleased with his wit 
 and figure, and entertained him for three years, at the end 
 of which period half the husbands were jealous of the young 
 Dane, and all the women, particularly the wedded ones, 
 were pulling caps for his favors. When the war broke out 
 between King Christian and some of the Germanic princes, 
 Count Ulfeld, being tired of Venus and longing after Mars, 
 solicited letters from his kinsman to General Fowlk, one 
 of the greatest captains of the age, under whom he cam- 
 paigned for five years, until he became as thorough a sol- 
 dier as he had before been a courtier. On the restoration 
 of peace he went into Italy, and became acquainted with 
 Signor Cremonini, a noble Venetian, who made him an ac- 
 complished diplomatist, and "by his influence he was sent 
 into Denmark in the train of an ambassador from the 
 Republic. At Copenhagen he was present at all the con- 
 ferences which the Chancellor, his father, had with the 
 Ambassador, and the former began to feel a wonderful 
 liking for the young stranger, whose ready wit and general 
 knowledge were of great advantage to the Ambassador's 
 councils. He took occasion to solicit a private interview
 
 376 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGHT. 
 
 with him, and after offering him all the services in his 
 power, and entreating earnestly that he would enter into 
 the service of Denmark, he begged to know of what family 
 he was. The young man at first refused to satisfy him on 
 that point, but being pressed much he at length said, ' My 
 lord, I am that unfortunate son of your own, whom you 
 discarded for his youthful follies on his governor's report. 
 May I hope that I have sufficiently atoned for them ?' The 
 Chancellor was delighted with the discovery, and made 
 the King acquainted with the whole story, so that in a little 
 time Count Ulfeld became the idol of both court and king- 
 dom. May I venture to hope a similar termination to all 
 your escapades ?" 
 
 " You certainly may venture to hope it ; but my mother's 
 hatred of me is so intense, and my father's folly about his 
 money is so perfect, that I think the notion that I possibly 
 some day may enjoy his wealth, is alone sufficient to make 
 him loathe me, and I do not anticipate so favorable an 
 ending of my drama as that which happened to Count 
 Ulfeld. In the Montagu as in the Gruelph family, the eldest 
 son is always hated by his family." 
 
 " Well, let us change the subject," he said ; "and apropos 
 of nothing we shall have the Guelphs here to-night, father 
 and son, both followed by some of the basest gold-embroi- 
 dered knaves on earth, fawning and smiling on the ' foun- 
 tain of honor,' and ready to sell their souls for a smile or a 
 promise. Who that looks upon such a scene can entertain 
 any feeling but that of scorn for the rogues in purple who 
 call themselves ' most noble,' ' right honorable,' and ' full 
 of grace.' Such titles seem conferred in irony; they are 
 certainly the bitterest sarcasms on their possessors ; yet 
 these fellows carry them about as gravely as if they ex- 
 pressed their true inward nature. They always remind me 
 of that right honorable jackdaw that dressed himself in 
 peacock's feathers."
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 377 
 
 " There is an old saying, Harry, that ' fools are the favor- 
 ites of fortune ;' I think it should rather be that knaves 
 are." 
 
 " Fools and knaves, dear Wortley, are convertible terms. 
 I never yet knew a fool who was not a knave also, only 
 that he had not the capacity to carry it out ; I never yet 
 knew a knave who was not on the whole an arrant fool. 
 Here comes one who is a beautiful compound of both." 
 
 And Lord Hillsborough, the wildest and most scanda- 
 lous libertine of that day of libertines, passed. He was 
 engaged with a couple of pure shepherdesses, one of whom 
 had a pastoral crook and another a sylvan pipe; Hills- 
 borough himself being attired as Paris on the Dardan 
 Hills, but looking like a bacchanal of Drury Lane. He 
 had pulled his mask off, and was half drunk already. A 
 rabble followed him, listening to brutal wit and ribaldry, 
 only coarser than that of Swift or Rabelais, of whom he 
 seemed compounded. 
 
 " I wonder is his wife here ?" said Fielding. " I hope 
 she is." 
 
 An elegantly dressed fop now approached us. Bowing 
 to Fielding, he said, in a lisping voice, half song, half 
 recitative 
 
 " Do you know me ? Fal, lal, lal, la." 
 
 " I certainly do," said Harry, " you are Jack Frothwell." 
 
 " The same at your service, Mr. Fielding. Damme, I 
 am delighted to see you here. I am looking for the divine 
 Phillis ! Fal, lal, lal, la. What do you think of my dress ? 
 This pink satin is the heavenliest thing. This ring I got 
 from the Countess of ." 
 
 " I think the Countess Fal-lal has shown exquisite taste 
 in her selection of a lover," answered Fielding; "you are 
 both well matched." 
 
 " 'Pon my word, you say truly," answered Jack, " and 
 I'll repeat your compliment to her, the moment I see her
 
 378 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 ladyship. Have you seen many here to-night that you 
 know ?" 
 
 "Oh! hundreds England realizes the proud boast of 
 one of the knights of old, all whose sons were brave, all 
 whose daughters were chaste. The superlative degree of 
 both are congregated here to-night." 
 
 "Divine England! divine pleasure; the first, the only 
 land for the second the second enjoyed nowhere but in 
 the first. Don't you think that a good observation, Mr. 
 Fielding ?" 
 
 " Which ? England or pleasure ?" 
 
 " Nay, if you grow satirical, I must be off. Faith, I see 
 her ladyship yonder. O, Divine ! Adieu adieu. I kiss 
 your hands." And the beau went off, like a squib of gun- 
 powder, muttering his favorite " Fal, lal, lal, la," softly 
 echoed in the air. 
 
 "That man has ten thousand a-year," sighed Harry, 
 " and you see how he spends it." 
 
 While we were thus engaged, my old friend Lord Ches- 
 terfield, attired as a Spanish grandee, passed near; he 
 wore no mask, and he was followed by a well-dressed 
 crowd of giddy youths, who seemed to think him divinity ; 
 and I could see many a stray glance from bright eyes 
 wafted towards the strutting little Don. Fielding looked 
 at me for a moment ; his eyes twinkled with fun. 
 
 "Behold," he whispered, "the glass of fashion, and the 
 mould of form Philip Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield. He 
 is reputed to be the finest courtier we have; look at him 
 and acknowledge that the eulogy is merited. He mocks 
 every man, and boasts that he intrigues with every woman, 
 though his recent affair with the Duchess of Manchester 
 has not tended much to his glory as a lady-killer." 
 
 "What was that?" 
 
 "Why, just this. Her grace has been married about 
 nine years, and having no issue, our peer thought it a pity
 
 EDWARD WOKTLBT MONTAGU. 379 
 
 that the honors of this noble house should be transferred 
 from the dir&ct line to a brother. He accordingly waited 
 on her grace a few mornings since, though he knew but 
 little of her, having only seen her once or twice at court. 
 After a few compliments, which no man can pay with pret- 
 tier grace, he delicately alluded to the absence of an heir 
 to this most honorable title ; informed her that he should 
 be most happy to form such an acquaintance with her as 
 would probably produce so desirable a consummation. The 
 Duchess, who is a namesake of yours, was silent for some 
 time ; in fact her indignation stopped her power of speech, 
 which gave my lord so much encouragement, that he was 
 proceeding to kiss her hand, when the lady, rising, thus 
 saluted this well-bred worshipper of the graces. * Begone, 
 sir, from my presence, nor ever again dare to enter it and 
 think yourself well off that for this affront I do not order 
 my servants to thrust you headlong out of doors.' My 
 lord smiled, bowed, and I suppose has come here unmasked, 
 to exhibit to the world his grand indifference to such trifling 
 accidents, which are unable to disturb his composure even 
 for a moment."* . 
 
 " I suppose my lady namesake was not so much dis- 
 pleased at the measure as with the man. Had the propo- 
 sition come from another, who was an Antinous, it would 
 have probably been better received. But this fellow seems 
 an antidote to all love. His short figure, thick make, large 
 rough-featured ugly face, black teeth, and head as big as 
 Polyphemus, are more calculated to frighten the women 
 than to captivate them. Only that he is a great deal 
 uglier and more vulgar-looking, he would have reminded 
 me of little Will, the waiter at the Turk's Head.' " 
 
 "Aye, and he is always prating of ' the graces.' " 
 
 * This story la repeated also In the " Life of Johnson," by Sir John Hawkins. 
 Page 180.
 
 380 EDWABD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 "Yet you dedicated to him your 'Don Quixote in 
 England.' " 
 
 44 Yes, I did, and got twenty guineas for it. What could 
 I do, Wortley ? The old general was sending to me every 
 day for a loan, and I could refuse him no longer. It is 
 not every son would do so much for a father as dedicate 
 to Chesterfield." 
 
 The music now struck up, and we walked about the 
 rooms. Fielding's fine figure and proportions attracted 
 the fair sex in crowds. The pretty moths gathered around 
 him as if he were a flaming candle. He reminded me of 
 the Grand Seigneur. I, though nearly as tall, could of 
 course present no counterpart to his vast attractions. A 
 good deal of his own experience in these matters subse- 
 quently appeared in "Tom Jones" and "Amelia" those 
 glorious novels. 
 
 A tall, thin figure, with a most affected manner, passed 
 us. He was dressed in the extreme of splendor but it 
 was an effeminate splendor. It was the luxury of a man- 
 nikin aping a fine gentleman. His gait was slow and 
 pompous ; but its pomposity made it laughable. I felt an 
 icy chill as he came near. I have always thought there 
 was a vast depth of sagacity in that observation which 
 Shakspeare puts into the mouth of one of his witches 
 
 " By the pricking of my thumbs, 
 Something wicked this way comes." 
 
 I am never even unconsciously in the presence of a foe, or 
 a thoroughly bad person, that I do not, as if by instinct, 
 feel uneasy. The same sense of oppression, annoyance, 
 and dislike now came over me. 
 
 " Who is this ?" I whispered to my companion. 
 
 " What," he said, " don't you know him ? 
 
 'Narcissus praised with all a parson's power, 
 Looked a white lily sunk beneath a shower.' 
 
 So Pope sang of Lord Hervey, after he had read Middle-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 381 
 
 ton's dedication of Cicero to him." And then he con- 
 tinued, half audibly, half in an undertone 
 
 "Let Sporus tremble What? that thing of Bilk, 
 Sporus, that mere white curd of asses' milk? 
 Satire or sense alas ! can Sporns feel? 
 Who breaks a butterfly upon the wheel? 
 Eternal smiles his emptiness betray ' v 
 
 As shallow streams run dimpling all the way; 
 Whether in florid impotence he speaks, 
 And as the prompter breathes, the puppet squeaks, 
 Or at the ear of Eve,* familiar toad, 
 Half froth, half venom, spits himself abroad. 
 Amphibious thing that acting either part, 
 The trifling head or the corrupted heart. 
 Fop at the toilet, flatterer at the board, 
 Now trips a lady, and now struts a lord ; 
 Eve's tempter* thus the Rabbins have expressed, 
 A cherub's face, a reptile all the rest." 
 
 Fielding repeated these terrible verses with so little heed 
 as to who heard him, that I am satisfied " Sporus " him- 
 self had the benefit of it all. He darted a look at us that 
 even under his mask betrayed rage. "Good Heaven!" I 
 thought, "can this be Lady Mary's favorite Adonis?" 
 Fielding divined my thoughts, but he was too well bred to 
 allude to one of the current scandals of the day. 
 
 " This man," he said, " is another example of what we 
 have been saying. When he married Molly Lepell, whom 
 the wags now begin to call ' Old Brimstone,' though it is 
 surely too soon, he sent her every night to Court, to in- 
 duce old George the First to take her into keeping. The 
 Duchess of Kendal got alarmed, and gave her four thou- 
 sand pounds to stay away. Our noble friend accepted the 
 money with great ^devotion, and bought a town house and 
 furniture with it, and our noble lady became a rank Jacob- 
 ite. So much for Courts. What do you think of the wife ? 
 But she was early schooled into the true value of money. 
 Her father, old General Lepell, was colonel of a regiment 
 of horse, and Mary Lepell regularly drew her pay as one 
 
 * It was thus that Pope alluded to Lady M. W. and Lord H.
 
 382 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 of his cornets ; the thing lasted up to the time when she 
 was appointed Maid of Honor when it was thought too 
 scandalous to continue it, and it was transferred to another 
 sister, who I suppose has it still. My lady is a very nice 
 Latin scholar, and is not without wit. What do you think 
 the King said the other night to her master ? * My Lord 
 Hervey, you ought not to write verses ; it is beneath your 
 rank. Leave such work to little Mr. Pope.' I suppose 
 this explains the verses 
 
 'And justly Caesar scorns the poet's lays, 
 It is to history he trusts for praise.' 
 
 And history no doubt will give it. But hush I here comes 
 Moll Skerrett Walpole's lady of the harem, daughter of 
 the parish clerk of St. Andrew's, Holborn. 0, Moll Sker- 
 rett ! Moll Skerrett ! many ups and downs have I seen in 
 life, but none more worthy of renown than thine. Mark 
 my words: Walpole's man (the King) will make her 
 Countess also some day." 
 
 The ci-owd saw not St. Andrews, and heard not A-men 
 in my lady, but perceived only the quintessence of St. 
 James's, and the perfume of the Treasuiy a whole draw- 
 ing-room full of the finest people followed her worshipping. 
 It was the old story of Yashti. The noble herd cared not 
 that my lady was Sir Robert's avowed and shameless mis- 
 tress, and that his wife was living. They only saw the 
 favorite of the all-powerful Prime Minister. In her train 
 was Lady Mary, always one of her chief friends and backers. 
 Lord Hervey immediately joined them. My mother ap- 
 peared in her fancy costume an Eastern robe and head- 
 dress. It became her well. All the honorable and fash- 
 ional witlings fluttered about her; all the noblemen and 
 illustrious women dangled after Moll. The Duchess of 
 Kendal, that tall, lean, ill-favored mawkin, paid court to her; 
 the huge Madam Platen, whose two fierce black eyes shone 
 like moons eclipsed, or burnt holes in a blanket, over two
 
 BDWABD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 383 
 
 continents of painted cheeks, and a whole ocean of neck, 
 did not disdain to flatter the Holborn goddess. The three 
 were, indeed, " birds of a feather," and shed splendid light 
 on Court morals. That night, I think, decided me for- 
 ever, and gave me a repugnance to society which I have 
 never got over. I am glad of it. Solitude has made me a 
 better man. 
 
 "Can this be Lord Cavendish?" whispered Fielding. 
 " Yes, it is he, by Jupiter, and still full of his grand ex- 
 ploit, riding from Hyde Park Corner to the Lodge at 
 Windsor in an hour and six minutes twenty-one miles, 
 for five thousand pounds ! And here is the fool who lost 
 the money, Sir Robert Fogg himself also a horse fancier. 
 No wonder it has been said that England is the hell of 
 horses, since they are spurred to death in this style. But 
 where is Pulteney who pinked Lord Hervey in a duel some 
 time since, and would certainly have sent him across the 
 Styx, only that his foot slipped just as he was making the 
 final lunge. And where is the Duke of Cumberland, who 
 stands godfather to every one that asks him, and can give 
 him a good feed ? But what have we here ?" 
 And a Mask mounting on a chair, cried out 
 " Oyez ! Oyez ! Oyez ! all good people, come and listen 
 to a right merry ballad, written by the Virgin Mary, the 
 greatest wit and brightest nymph that ever celebrated the 
 praise of Bath." And the silly crowd began to gather at 
 his cry. 
 
 I knew the voice ; it was that of Dr. Young. But the 
 parson did not care where he went or what he did, so long 
 as it served his purpose. 
 
 When a sufficiently large mob of fashionable people had 
 assembled round the crier, and silence had been at length 
 procured, the reverend gentleman read the following ballad, 
 amid great applause. I insert the thing here first, because 
 it is not printed in my lady's published works; and, sec-
 
 384 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 ondly, because it so vividly reminds me of the whole folly 
 of the scene that night : 
 
 To all you ladles now at Bath, 
 
 And eke ye beaus to you, 
 With aching heart and watery eyea 
 
 I bid my last adieu. 
 
 " You see, gentlemen, what a fine thing it is to belong 
 to the ancient and honorable order of beaux ; to draw bril- 
 liants from the eyes of this fair and noble lady must in- 
 deed be a rare chance, and such has been that of your 
 Bath brethren. Let us hope it won't be her last adieu, and 
 that she will again return to illuminate that Bladudian 
 town, though we can never see too much of her here." 
 An observation which elicited general approval from the 
 crowd. 
 
 The reverend gentlemen in disguise read on 
 
 Farewell, ye nymphs, who waters sip, 
 
 Fresh reeking from the pumps, 
 While music lends her friendly aid 
 
 To cheer you from the dumps. 
 
 "Aye, faith," says one; "they must have been in the 
 dumps when Lady Mary was there, for she carried off all 
 their lovers." 
 
 " No," says another ; " the reason they were in the dumps 
 was because they drank water instead of ratafia." 
 
 Farewell, ye wits, who prating stand, 
 
 And criticize the fair, 
 Yourselves the joke of men of sense, 
 
 Who hate a coxcomb air. 
 
 "Gentlemen," says Young, "this observation applies 
 only to the Bath wits for so I hear they call themselves. 
 They should come and learn of us here in London, who 
 alone have true wit and humor ; not of Beau Nash, who is a 
 very dull fellow, indeed." 
 
 " There you lie," shouted a mask ; " and if I had you in
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 885 
 
 Bath I should order you to be pumped, though you are a 
 parson." 
 
 " You lie like a knave," says Young, trusting to his dis- 
 guise ; " I'm no parson." 
 
 "Ain't you Neddy Young ?" asked Nash. 
 
 "No, indeed," answered the other, with an unblushing 
 bronze that would have done honor to the Court. 
 
 "Then I'm sorry to think," retorted Nash, "that there 
 are two of you. I thought the devil could have made only 
 one." 
 
 " Hear him hear Harry Nash," bawled two or three ; 
 " demme, he wants to give laws here ; but we'll toss him in 
 a blanket if he tries." 
 
 " If you do," says Nash, " it will be the best thing you 
 ever tossed ; but I don't think you'll try." 
 
 " Go on, parson," cried Jack Frothwell ; and Young re- 
 sumed 
 
 Farewell to Beards, and all her toys, 
 
 Which glitter In her shop, 
 Deluding traps to girls and boys, 
 
 The warehouse of the fop. 
 
 Lindsay's and Hayes's both farewell I 
 
 Where in the spacious hall, 
 With bounding steps and sprightly air, 
 
 I've led up many a balL 
 
 "Ah! you lovely woman," cried one; "would to Cupid 
 I had been there to see. These bounding steps and 
 sprightly airs are the very things I like best of all others 
 in the world." 
 
 And here he sighed in a most ludicrous manner. 
 
 Where Turbervllle of courteous mien, 
 
 Was partner in the dance, 
 With swimming Hawes, and Brownlow blythe, 
 
 And Britton, pink of France. 
 
 M Three cheers for 4 swimming Hawes,' " cried Jack ; " she 
 is now Lady Vane, and faith, there's no fish in the sea I'd 
 sooner swim with." This sally produced great laughter. 
 25
 
 386 EDWARD WOKTLBT MONTAGTT. 
 
 Poor Nash farewell ! may fortune'! smile 
 Thy drooping soul revive, 
 
 My heart is full I can no more- 
 John, bid the coachman drive. 
 
 "There now, Nash, there's comfort for you," said Young, 
 as he stopped and folded up the paper. " By the Gods, 
 such a wish as that proceeding from so fine a lady must 
 raise you to the seventh heaven of Olympus, if there were 
 such a place at all, which I don't believe there is." 
 
 "Aye!" retorted the King of Bath, "but such cursed 
 folly as you have been speaking sinks me back again into 
 the seventh pit where I should gladly leave you if I be- 
 lieved there were such a region." 
 
 And the crowd separated to seek some other foolery. 
 
 " You hear all this," said Fielding to me " but her 
 ladyship exposes herself to it. When will she learn sense ?" 
 
 " Let us change the subject, Harry," I said, " I am tired 
 of it." My cousin was silent. After a pause he asked 
 
 " What do you think of the King of Bath ?" 
 
 "Nothing," I answered. 
 
 "You are right," he rejoined; "he is nothing, but out 
 of his nothingness he makes a princely income. He it 
 was who first led the fashion of riding naked on a cow for 
 a wager, which some of our fine gentlemen, Lord Gains- 
 borough among the rest, have mimicked. I have known 
 him in London watch a whole day at a window in the 
 Smyrna Coffee House, in order to receive a bow from a 
 Duke or a Duchess, as they passed where he was standing, 
 and he would then look round upon the company for ad- 
 miration and respect." 
 
 " I fear the world is full of such." 
 
 " Yet," pursued Fielding, " the fellow is a kind of humorist 
 in his way. He once gave out publicly that he would 
 drink no wine but what was strained through his sweet- 
 heart's smock, and I have seen him eat a pair of her shoes 
 tossed up in a fricassee. Though this savors of the ex-
 
 BDWARD WOKTLBY MONTAGU. 887 
 
 treme of madness, there were fifty young fellows who imi- 
 tated him in all this. Yet I admire one part in the fellow, 
 which shows him not to be entirely lost. He is noted for 
 never mentioning his father. Dr. Cheyne swears he never 
 had one. The Duchess of Marlborough one day said he 
 was like Gil Bias, who was ashamed of his father. ' No, 
 madam,' he replied ; ' I never mention my father in this 
 company, not because I have any reason to be ashamed of 
 him, but because he has some reason to be ashamed of me.' 
 Then he bowed to all around. I hardly think they saw 
 the sarcasm. But whom have we here ? 
 
 "He is the best-dressed man in town, Lord Portmore 
 with his new wife, the Duchess of Leeds, whom he has 
 not yet got tired of" and Fielding showed me a fine- 
 looking figure arrayed in gold and velvet and a blaze of 
 jewels. 
 
 " He certainly does look well ; does his inner man cor- 
 respond with this gorgeous outside ?" 
 
 "Hear what the Duchess of Queensbury says of him, 
 and judge for yourself. He was about building a house in 
 their neighborhood ; they proposed him a very fine situa- 
 tion where he might have a splendid view of the sea ; but 
 the fine gentleman cried out, ' ! the sea looks so fierce it 
 frights me.' Is he not a pretty fellow to be a legislator ? 
 
 " Who comes here ? Antony Henley, one of the most 
 brutal profligates in England, and only inferior to his 
 brother, whom we call 'Surly Bob.' Have you heard of 
 the letter he sent to his constituents last week? They 
 wrote to him to oppose the Excise Bill. This waa his 
 answer 
 
 "'Rascals, I received yours, and am surprised at your 
 insolence in troubling me about the excise. You know 
 what I very well know, that I bought you, and I am de- 
 termined to sell you. And I know what you perhaps think 
 I do not know, you are now selling yourselves to somebody
 
 388 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 else. And I know what you do not know, that I am buy- 
 ing another borough. May God's curse light on you all ; 
 may your houses be as open and common to all excise offi- 
 cers as your wives and daughters were to me when I stood 
 for your rascally corporation.' 
 
 " Now, Wortley, if ever you stand for Huntingdon, you 
 will know how to address your voters ; this indeed may be 
 regarded as a model of composition." 
 
 "Nay," said I, "I know something of these matters too, 
 for I had a little to do with the last election for Bilgewater. 
 I think Henley must have been its member, for there is not 
 a line in his letter which is not applicable to that noted 
 constituency." 
 
 Henley seeing us looking at him rather keenly, walked 
 unceremoniously up to where we were. 
 
 " Hallo ! Fielding," he said, " what have you pulled off 
 your mask for ? Ain't you afraid of the bailiffs ?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I was," retorted Harry, "but when I saw 
 you walking about so fearlessly, I knew that there were 
 none here, and that I was safe." 
 
 "Damn ye," answered Henley, "you're out there my 
 privilege of Parliament protects me so you're bitten." 
 
 " Well, then," added Fielding, " the true reason why I 
 pulled it off was this : I heard you were to be here in a 
 domino like this, and not to be mistaken for the veriest 
 rogue in Parliament, I uncovered my face." 
 
 Henley abruptly left us. 
 
 "But who is this that trips so nymph-like over the 
 boards ? by her swimming motion I cannot be mistaken 
 by the monkey at her side I can scarcely be deceived. Let 
 me wait till I hear her voice, and then I shall be more cer- 
 tain." 
 
 Fielding put on his mask, and went up to a lady dressed 
 as Night a dark lace dress with a profusion of gold stars, 
 and a veil of the same costly material floating to the floor.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 889 
 
 She was leaning on a gentleman attired as a French pos- 
 tilion and he became the character well. Harry made 
 an elegant bow, and whispered, " Do you know me ?" He 
 received an answer in the negative, but the voice was like 
 the wild soft strain of a harp it thrilled through every 
 one's very heart. Fielding again bowed and retired. 
 
 "Yes," he whispered to me, "I was right; it is Lady 
 Vane the 'swimming Hawes' of your mother's ballad. 
 She is just married. Her father is a rich West Indian; he 
 was in the South Sea swindle, by which he increased his 
 estate 40,000, and bought a most lovely place near Read- 
 ing; but ill-gotten gains seldom prosper; and this old 
 knave having, like a big rogue, taken a mistress and got a 
 new family, he brought up this innocent young creature to 
 town, and published everywhere that she was to have an 
 immense fortune ; five hundred negroes with silver collars 
 and so forth. This drew all the young lords and rakes 
 jfter her ; but she ran away with Lord William Hamilton ; 
 and old Hawes used this as a pretext not to give her a six- 
 pence he himself having, unknown to her, devised the 
 whole plot of the elopement by bribing her maid, who en- 
 couraged her to the step. Poor Lord William was a very 
 honorable fellow, but like all Scotsmen, he had no money ; 
 he was disappointed, but what could he do ? He died soon 
 after of a fever caught in an election contest, and her 
 father immediately sold her to Lord Vane, the imp by her 
 side, whom she detested, but who it is said settled an im- 
 mense jointure on her, which I don't think he ever means 
 to pay. But trust me she will soon leave him or I have 
 no skill in women, or in men either." How this prediction 
 was fulfilled, all the world knows. 
 
 Poor Lady Vane ! I am truly sorry for her. Dr. Smol- 
 lett has lately published her life and adventures, and has 
 been much abused for it ; but I am heartily glad he has 
 committed them to the press ; otherwise she might havo 
 25
 
 890 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 floated down to posterity in the same rank with mad Lady 
 Oxford, and still madder Lady Orford, and worst and 
 maddest of all, that wild woman, Charles Townsend's me- 
 teoric mother. I followed her with my eyes. I was under 
 a species of fascination for the moment. She half entranced 
 and bound me in her spells. With all her follies there was 
 an amount of heart in all she said and did ; she was so 
 evidently genuine, frank and good natured, that had I not 
 been all-enthralled to the noblest of women, I fear I should 
 have found myself among this lady's adorers. 
 
 A lank lean-looking man, something like a horse-jockey, 
 now came up to us. " Mr. Fielding," said he, " have you 
 seen my Lady Burlington here ?" 
 
 "Yes," said Harry, " she has just passed with the Grand 
 Yizier or one that would be like him." 
 
 A peculiar smile, half silly, half spiteful, passed over the 
 other's face, and he left us. 
 
 "There is a fellow," said my cousin "he resigned a 
 place at court some time since, because he would not vote 
 with Walpole, but his wife, who is openly intriguing with 
 the Duke, as his Grace is evidently amouring with the prim 
 Princess Amelia would not give up hers, and the fool 
 has nearly made himself ridiculous by losing a post worth 
 3,000 a year, sooner than sacrifice his patriotism, while 
 he dishonors his family rather than give up the 1,200 
 which he gets for serving cette diablesse Madame la prin- 
 cesse, as the King calls her. How can you account for 
 such things ? Does God give the same sort of brains to 
 these creatures that he bestows on ordinary mortals ? Here 
 is that blundering blockhead, Lord Falmouth I know him 
 well, though he is disguised as a Spanish Grandee. Ava- 
 rice and meanness are as proverbial in that family as 
 coarseness and lying in the Stuarts. When this fellow's 
 father was dying there was only his apothecary present. 
 1 Watson,' said he, ' give me a shirt out of that drawer in
 
 EDWAftD WOETLBY MONTAGU. 391 
 
 the corner.' The apothecary stared and begged him not 
 to disturb himself he thought he was raving. ' Pray give 
 it me,' said the dying lord, ' for I understand it is a custom 
 that the shirt one dies in becomes the perquisite of the 
 layer out ; this I have on is a very fine lace one, but that 
 in the drawer is an old ragged one, and good enough for 
 the jade.' He would not rest and could not die till Wat- 
 son had changed them." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said Jack Froth well calling a crowd 
 around him " I beg pardon, Ladies, my Lords and Gen- 
 tlemen, who among you can help me to two hundred 
 guineas ?" 
 
 "Not I," says one, and "Not I," says another, and a 
 third said " I'll see you damned first." 
 
 "Ah," says Jack, " I thought how it would be ; none of 
 you will own to this robbery." 
 
 " What robbery ?" demanded a hundred voices. 
 
 " Why this robbery advertised in all the papers," and 
 Jack read aloud as follows : 
 
 "Lost or mislaid, one pair of large brilliant diamond 
 earrings with drops, the first water, and one odd night ear- 
 ring, with three brilliant diamonds ; three large bars for 
 the breast, set with rose diamonds. If offered to be sold, 
 pawn'd or valued, pray stop 'em and the party, especially 
 if it be a young lady, and give notice to Mr. DRUMMOND, 
 Goldsmith, at Charing Cross, and you shall receive 200 
 Guineas reward for the same." 
 
 " There now, Ladies," resumed Jack, " you see how it is. 
 Can't you put this sum of money in my way for nothing, 
 and drat me if I won't give half of it to the informer and 
 myself in the bargain, if she's a pretty one ?" 
 
 " Bravo, bravo, Jack," shouted out his companions, and 
 they rushed after a huge figure arrayed in the robes of 
 Lord Chancellor, who was singing an indecent ballad.
 
 392 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 " Who, is that tall, thin, lathlike man, something like 
 the Monument," I asked, "who is dressed as JEsculapius ?" 
 
 " That," said Fielding, scanning him very closely, " is 
 Dr. St. Andre, who came over to this country a perfect 
 pauper, but by some lucky lines, got himself into notice, 
 and would probably have been appointed sergeant-surgeon 
 to the King himself, only that he made himself the town 
 jest by the rabbit business, which produced so great a 
 noise a few years ago. He was himself, I believe, persuaded 
 that Mary Tofts was the veritable mother of I know not 
 how many of these interesting animals, and he invited Sir 
 Hans Sloane and the chiefs of the Royal Society to be 
 present at the incubation. They went, and were deceived 
 likewise, and the Society was about to adopt her, and 
 identify themselves with the deception, but luckily the 
 cheat was discovered, and the Fellows saved from irreme- 
 diable disgrace. For they have patronized so many ab- 
 surdities, that one or two more will squelch them utterly. 
 St. Andre retired into the country, where he, and the 
 woman who is with him, Lady Betty Molyneux, daughter 
 of the Earl of Essex, contrived to poison her husband, by 
 which the lady came in for thirty thousand pounds, and is 
 now married to St. Andre. Pope has preserved her in his 
 amber, as ' the poisoning wife.' They are a very happy 
 nice couple, and do well to figure at this place." 
 
 "Why, Hany," I remarked, "you are as good as Asmo- 
 deus ; you know all these people, as well as if you were 
 their father confessor." 
 
 " Better, my dear Coz, better," he answered, " for when 
 you have lived as long as me, and seen as much, you will 
 know that it is only the minor sins tfiat are revealed in 
 confession the greater never are. For the honor of the 
 state and our high civilization, this is not the only lady 
 poisoner we have here to-night. Unless I mistake I see 
 Lady Deloraine;" and he pointed out a mask who now
 
 BDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 893 
 
 slowly approached us. She was dressed in Indian costume, 
 and looked magnificent, but I could not see her features. 
 The opportunity, however, was soon afforded. Anthony 
 Henley walked up to her, and without the slightest cere- 
 mony pulled off her mask. Her face instantly grew filled 
 with blood ; she darted at him one baleful glance, but in 
 an instant her whole expression changed. She absolutely 
 smiled on him and gave him a cordial welcome. I could 
 then observe her ; her eyes were round and bright just like 
 an adder's ; they were vividly clear and still ; the lips were 
 thin lines of red ; the motion was soft and gliding. All 
 poisoners have this peculiarity. I happened once to be 
 thrown by circumstances into the company of the greatest 
 poisoner of this or any other age. When he moved it was 
 with so soft and gentle a step from place to place that you 
 started to find him beside or behind you, when you had 
 only a moment before seen him at the other end of the 
 room. His voice was low and modulated, but an obser- 
 vant ear could detect something sibilant in its under tones. 
 The whole appearance was remarkably sleek, smooth and 
 clean ; and so it is with the most venomous of adders (the 
 puff adder), which would be miserable if the least speck 
 begrimed its glittering coat. 
 
 " Who is this woman ?" I asked Fielding. 
 
 "She is bedchamber woman at Court," he said; "she 
 sings loose songs for the king every night before he goes 
 to bed, and the woman she poisoned was a pretty Scotch 
 woman named McKenzie, who was rather in her way." 
 
 Here a middle-sized, ill-shaped sort of woman, with fine 
 eyes and thin nose projecting to a point, suddenly pulled 
 off her mask, while she used her fan to cool herself. In 
 doing so she exposed a magnificent pair of diamond ear- 
 rings. 
 
 "Are these Jack Frothwell's jewels, I wonder ? If so, 
 hadn't we better claim the reward ?"
 
 894 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " No," answered my companion, " they are Lord Pom- 
 fret's, and are well paid for." 
 
 " How do you mean ? Is this woman a " 
 
 " Oh ! dear no ; don't be mistaken ; she is no less a per- 
 sonage than Lady Sundou. I happen to know that she got 
 those very ear-rings for procuring the Mastership of the 
 Horse for Pomfret. She does well to wear her bribe in her 
 ears. But I wonder that she has boldness enough to 
 do so." 
 
 " Nay ; I think she does not only well but wisely. How 
 could you have people know where there is wine to be sold, 
 unless there is a sign hung out?" 
 
 " That saying is worthy of your mother, my boy. Sun- 
 don, who is decent in other respects, ought to be above 
 this, for she is now enormously rich. 0, England, thou 
 art a glorious land for prime ministers and royal serving 
 women. Walpole came up to town with only eight hun- 
 dred pounds a year, debts innumerable, and a heap of 
 brothers, and country cousins and sisters to keep out of it, 
 and he now owns Houghton, the greatest house in Norfolk, 
 and with a gallery of paintings perhaps unequalled in the 
 world. Lady Sundon was, like Craggs, a servant at St. 
 James's, and taking money from bishops, archbishops, 
 courtiers and parsons, she is now worth one hundred thou- 
 sand pounds, with probably forty thousand pounds more 
 in jewels and finery the gift of the well discerning, who 
 have quick eyes for that sort of merit, which can give re- 
 wards to its believers." 
 
 " Here comes Sewallis Shirley," whispered Fielding, point- 
 ing to a thin, well-made man with blue eyes, but a dissi- 
 pated air ; " they say he loves Lady Vane, and if I were my 
 lord I should beware of him, for he is a dangerous man 
 with the sex. And there is Lady Pomfret herself, Jeffrey's 
 granddaughter a great crony of your mamma, who prob- 
 ably had wit enough to make her husband bribe Lady Sun-
 
 EDWAED WORTLBY MONTAGU. 895 
 
 don. But who is this in full canonicals ? As I live it is 
 Orator Henley ; but where he has got the money to buy his 
 ticket I know not, unless some mad wag with more gold 
 than brains has sent him here to make us laugh." 
 
 The Orator swaggered towards us, and was evidently 
 pleased at the admiration which he excited ; a crowd of 
 young fellows fresh from Oxford followed him, and wit and 
 puns, and classical allusions were bandied freely about 
 between them. One of them now pulled forward a chair ; 
 and arranged some benches in a circular shape, and there 
 being a general call for a sermon, the reverend gentleman 
 with great meekness mounted the temporary pulpit, and 
 adjusting his bands and trying hard to look demurely, 
 began as follows : 
 
 " Beloved brethren, and ye, my sisters, more beloved still 
 hearken unto my speech, and give ear unto my words, 
 for verily they will be of sweet savor to your worldly 
 souls. Clouds ye are, without water, carried about of 
 winds ; trees whose fruit withereth without fruit, twice 
 dead, plucked up by the roots; raging waves of the sea, 
 foaming out their own shame ; wandering stars to whom is 
 reserved the blackness of darkness forever. All this ye 
 are naturally, I say ; yet if ye do but follow the holy 
 counsel which I shall bestow, ye shall ascend with Paul 
 into the high heaven, which I wish he had described for 
 the edification of all sinners like yourselves. Ask ye where 
 ye shall hear that holy counsel ? In the sacred groves of 
 Academe I mean Clare Market, it may be heard ; by the 
 classic waters of the His I mean, the pump of Clement's 
 Inn, the words of wisdom may be gleaned. Therefore do 
 I counsel ye, one and all, repair thither without further 
 delay, and lay up store of that holy treasure, which shall 
 abide unto you when all others shall have passed away. 
 But unto those abandoned ones, who will not listen, woe 
 unto them, for they have gone in the way of Cain, and ran
 
 396 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 greedily after the error of Balaam for reward, and perished 
 in the gainsaying of Core." 
 
 Here a young wag, in a horribly nasal tone, cried " Ah- 
 men !" 
 
 "We are told by holy Jude, the sanctified brother of 
 James the Apostle," resumed Henley, "that Michael the 
 Archangel disputed with the devil about the body of Moses, 
 but how he discovered the burial place of the Hebrew 
 patriarch hath not been revealed, for he was entombed in 
 great secresy somewhere in the land of Moab. Many 
 people believe this to be a literal fact, and the infidels and 
 scoffers of whom this wicked city is full have often 
 grown irreverent on the subject, even in the presence of 
 these men of God, the Right Reverend Bishops of the 
 Church that is by law Established. But it has always 
 appeared to me that holy Jude merely meant to speak 
 figuratively in that place, and that he hath bequeathed to 
 us a metaphorical type, which might often be applied with 
 singular force to the great variety of things which we daily 
 see around us. For it cannot be seriously contended that 
 the narrative should be taken literally ; the dead body of 
 the son of Amram being, as I conceive, of no earthly use 
 whatever to the Prince of the Air, whom some call Lucifer. 
 For to fry it in his fires would avail nothing, the soul suf- 
 fering not by the dead body's discomfiture ; and the soul 
 itself we know he could not get. Therefore I have always 
 regarded the text in question as being one of those grand 
 outbursts of fancy for which the prophets were famous ; 
 and which is capable of being turned to the most useful 
 account in all the transactions of living life." 
 
 Here the same wag again groaned out " Ah-men I" 
 
 "When I see a Minister of State doubtful whether he 
 
 shall sell his country to a foreign prince for a bribe of fifty 
 
 thousand pounds, or whether he shall not rather content 
 
 himself with the thirty (and security) which ho may have
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 397 
 
 by robbing the credulous public at home, methinks I think 
 I see the Devil then contending with the Archangel for the 
 body of Moses. 
 
 "When I see a very reverend clergyman, high in the 
 Church, balancing his conscience between his support of 
 public measures, which he knows to be inimical to the 
 country, and his ambition after a mitre, which he is as- 
 sured is worth ten thousand a year, then methinks I see 
 the Devil awfully contending with the Archangel for the 
 body of Moses. 
 
 " When I see a young virgin hesitating between the arms 
 of old age, holding forth in each hand a well-filled casket 
 of gold and jewels, and the seducing smiles of some younger 
 cavalier, to whom she has given what she calls her heart, 
 then methinks I see the Devil wrangling with the Arch- 
 angel for the body of Moses. 
 
 " When I see a merchant great on 'Change, immersed in 
 anxious reflections, whether he shall secure five thousand 
 guineas by some bold fraud in stock or merchandise, or 
 whether he shall not rather be more safe if he heaps gold 
 on gold by his accustomed quiet driblets of peculation, 
 then methinks I see the Devil stoutly fighting with the 
 Archangel for the body of Moses. 
 
 " When I see the blatant patriot, who has entered the 
 House of Commons, sworn to wreak vengeance on the 
 enemies of freedom, secretly selling himself to the First 
 Lord for a place in the Ministry, while with many a pang 
 of anticipation he hears the groans of his deluded country- 
 men, and is half inclined to wait a little longer that he 
 may get a higher price, then methinks I see the Devil 
 squabbling with the Archangel for the body of Moses. 
 
 "When I see the ermined judge condemning a man to 
 jail whose only crime is that he differs in opinion with the 
 ignorant many who constitute what is called the State, 
 while under his belt he carries the promise of the King
 
 898 EDWAED WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 that he shall be made a Privy Councillor for his supple- 
 ness, then indeed I see the Devil clapper-clawing the Arch- 
 angel about the body of Moses. 
 
 " When I see the skilful doctor listening to his patient's 
 enumeration of symptoms, and prescribing for him the 
 pill, while he pockets the daily fee, yet all the while con- 
 fessing to his own heart that better than pill or potion 
 would be that hermit abstinence from the bottle or the 
 feast, which is the true source of the disease, but which he 
 nevertheless hints not to the gold bestower, then also I see 
 the Devil brangling with the Archangel for the body of 
 Moses. 
 
 " When I see the assembled wisdom of the nation, mak- 
 ing the loudest outcries against electoral bribery and cor- 
 ruption, and denouncing it as an iniquity before heaven, 
 while among them they know that some of the most odious 
 bribers and corruptors that ever lived are fat and flourish- 
 ing, and though they make innumerable false pretences to 
 a virtue which they have not, they take no real pains at all 
 to discourage the villany against which they disclaim, or 
 to expel the bribers whom they abuse- then in truth I see 
 the Devil wrestling hard with the Archangel for the body 
 of Moses. 
 
 " In fine, whenever I look abroad upon the vast theatre 
 of society, and see the struggles which in every rank and 
 order hourly do take place between conscience and villainy, 
 the fights that happen between our moral sense, and our 
 own immoral sensualisms ; between our conviction of what 
 is true and our devotion to what is false, between our scorn 
 of the beautiful, and our pursuit of the base, then, my 
 brethren, is forcibly brought before me the terrible contest 
 that is always going on between the Devil and the Arch- 
 angel about the body of Moses." 
 
 "Ah-men," groaned the wag who had before officiated, 
 and with a burst of laughter, the congregation left the
 
 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 399 
 
 orator and ran after a new figure who carried a puppet 
 show. Henley, no way disconcerted, was seen the next 
 minute discussing a bottle with two or three ladies who 
 would never have done for Roman vestals, though I half 
 think they were disguised in that character. So the scene 
 went on, and the whole of Pandemonium seemed let loose. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Now the Prince of Wales entered, his royal highness 
 Fred (his father called him " Fritz," and his mother "Griff,") 
 a little man of pink complexion, light hair and spindle- 
 shanked, with lively eyes, but remarkably awkward and 
 ungraceful. He was attended by his sham Court, who in 
 all things set themselves up in pigmy opposition to Wai- 
 pole and the right honorable lords and ladies who basked 
 in the sovereign presence. There was fat Windham, Pul- 
 teney and his wife, Annie Gumley, half vixen, half doxey, 
 and Lord Scarborough, who made a jest of all religion, 
 and Lady Bolingbrooke, and Bubb Dodington, and Lyttle- 
 ton, tall, thin, ugly-faced, and ill-formed, with a voice like a 
 scritch owl the very counterpart of his description in the 
 ballad 
 
 But who Is dat bestride a pony, 
 So long, so lean, so lank, so bonyT 
 Dat be great Orator Littletony. 
 
 "Yonder," says Fielding, "are Rigby and Winnington; 
 you may know the first by his matchless impudence of 
 forehead, and the purpureum lumen of perpetual burgundy 
 which seems to flash out of every coarse feature. His 
 father was a South Sea robber ; the son is not yet a sena- 
 torial Turpin, but he soon will be ready to take money and 
 spend it in any business. Wilmington, who is member
 
 400 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 for Droitwich, seems on the look out for our friend Audrey 
 Townsend, whose favored love he boasts himself to be, 
 though I think she is wild after Harry Nisbett too, and he 
 shares her with half a dozen stout chairmen of my acquaint- 
 ance. Both have come, I suppose, from a cock match. But 
 what brings old Gibbon here ? Are all the South Sea 
 plunderers here to-night? They should have poisoned 
 themselves like Craggs. Yonder old fellow was fined 
 10,000 for his part in the pillage ; had it been 50,000 
 it would not have been enough. Look at him." 
 
 I did so ; the perfect image of a baboon he was. Many 
 years afterwards I saw his grandson at Lausanne he 
 seemed to have been spit out of the old gentleman's mouth. 
 He is a most laughable fellow to see. 
 
 Numerous were the illustrious lords and ladies who now 
 attracted attention; conspicuous among them was Lord 
 Carteret, famous as the greatest humbug of his day, and 
 Lady Archibald Hamilton, who at the age of thirty-five 
 got the place of cofferer to the Prince of Wales, and Sur- 
 veyor-General of the Duchy of Cornwall for her excellent 
 spouse. With her was Scarborough's brother, who was 
 treasurer to the Prince. 
 
 Alas ! all their glories seemed but short-lived, for scarcely 
 had they entered when the king himself and Madam Wal- 
 moden came amid a tremendous clatter, followed by the 
 bowing courtiers ; at whose sublime appearance the rival 
 worshippers of the rising sun looked small indeed. Hei- 
 degger at once advanced to the orchestra and ordered them 
 to play up " God save the King," which they immediately 
 did, and as that sacred song arose, the loyal audience 
 seemed bursting with enthusiasm for the royal manikin, 
 who, if he were indeed "the Lord's anointed," made one 
 think that God must have been sadly in want of men when 
 he made a monkey his representative. For the fellow was
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 401 
 
 BO hideous a dwarf that when poor little Lord Edgcombe 
 was presented to him at Court, it was said his Majesty 
 
 Rejoiced to find within his Court 
 One shorter than himself. 
 
 But here a new, a horrible incident arose. The Duke 
 of Montagu had long been known on town for one of the 
 most desperate of wags. He and some friends had decoyed 
 Heidegger a few nights before to a noted tavern, where 
 under pretence of drinking his health they had rendered 
 him so stupidly intoxicated that they got a plaster cast of 
 his features, and as they were horribly ugly, pitted all over 
 with small-pox, and full of the most rugged ups and downs, 
 and crosses and touches, they had no difficulty in getting 
 a fine wax mask made, which presented even to the most 
 skilful eye all the rough lineaments of this lucky Swiss. 
 It was not diflicult to discover in what dress the master of 
 the ceremonies would appear on the occasion of the royal 
 visit; and the Duke had a complete counterpart made in 
 which he clothed a humorous fellow from one of the play- 
 houses, who for a bribe of ten guineas undertook to per- 
 sonate Heidegger on this occasion. Scarcely therefore had 
 that accomplished master given the direction which I have 
 mentioned, and scarcely had the first bars been played, when 
 the false Heidegger taking advantage of the momentary 
 attendance of the true one on the king, came forward and 
 very quietly said, " Gentremen, play Charlie over the Water." 
 The band was rather surprised, but they could only obey; 
 so they changed the loyal note for one that sounded re- 
 markably like treason. All was instantly confusion. Hei- 
 degger, who was following the king, ran back like a mad- 
 man, and rushing to the master of the band, cried out, 
 "What for you play Charlie over the Vater. Damn you, 
 play God save the King/' The band in perfect amazement, 
 dropped the Jacobite air, and struck up the solemn strain.
 
 402 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 Heidegger again rushed after the king, doubtless intending 
 to explain and apologize, when the duke's Heidegger came 
 forward and said, " Why for you play dat damned ting ? 
 Did I not tell you to play Charlie over de water ? You 
 shall all be dismissed to-morrow, by Gad, for dis." The 
 band could now only conclude that the master of the cere- 
 monies was drunk or mad. They however again struck 
 up the rebellious air, to the horror of all the Whigs and 
 Courtiers, but to the immense delight of all the Tories and 
 Jacobites present. The king himself was now in a rage ; 
 the poor Walmoden was white as a sheet, when Heidegger, 
 rushing into his majesty's presence, spluttered out 
 
 "Please, your royal sacred majesty, it is not me not 
 me. De band is mad ; de band is drunk ; de band is 
 bribed by some villain some dirty rascal to do dis. It is 
 not me, majesty ; not me not me." 
 
 The false Heidegger as instantly came forward, and 
 pointing to the true Simon Pure, said 
 
 " Please, your majesty, dis fellow is von rogue, imposter, 
 knave, rascal. He it be dat do all dis. He have de money 
 of de Jacobites. He do this for gilt." 
 
 The King burst out laughing; the courtiers at once 
 joined in the royal mirth. Heidegger himself turned pale, 
 and looked as if he saw a ghost. All was confusion, and 
 there would have probably been a general row, had not the 
 Duke himself come forward and humbly begging pardon 
 of the King, explained (in French, for this English mon- 
 arch did not know the language of his people) the joke 
 which he had prepared for the royal delectation, and all 
 passed off very pleasantly. 
 
 " If an angel could come from heaven and see this mum- 
 ming, I wonder what he'd think of it," said my companion. 
 
 " You must be a pretty fellow to make such a remark as 
 that," said a mask near us, "when there are so many 
 angels all about you."
 
 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 403 
 
 " Fallen ones, though," said the dramatist ; " I wonder 
 will they ever get back to heaven." 
 
 " Their heaven is here," answered the other. 
 
 " Well, I wonder where we shall all be this time one hun- 
 dred years. No masking in the other world, I fear." 
 
 "Ah ! now you grow profane." And the mask left us. 
 
 " I think I know that woman," said Fielding ; let us fol- 
 low her a bit." But the mask eluded us through the dense 
 crowd, and we stopped to look a few moments at a table 
 where gaming was going on at a great rate. Suddenly 
 Fielding turned away and exclaimed 
 
 "0, ye immortal gods and goddesses; ye who swelled 
 the hearts of Agamemnon and Pelides with noble wrath, 
 how heartily I wish that Dick Savage were here ; but he is 
 now, I suppose, lying in ft kennel dead drunk, or fast 
 asleep on a butcher's bench in Newgate Market. Marry 
 come up, we should have had a glorious scene to which 
 this of Heidegger is but milk and water." 
 
 I stared at this rhapsod}'. " Why, Hal," I asked, " what's 
 the matter?" 
 
 "Matter!" he repeated, "why, matter for fifty dramatic 
 scenes. What a splendid situation the king present, the 
 heir apparent, all the high nobility of the land. Heideg- 
 ger and Handel in the full moon glory of their music ; in 
 every heart bounding joy ; every silver-footed nymph pant- 
 ing for the minuet. Suddenly Dick spies two masked 
 strangers the one a tall and noble-looking Colonel, the 
 other an ex-contessa, and still beautiful. He rushes to- 
 wards them, tears open his shirt, and falling on his knees 
 with a passion, cries, 'Mother, behold your son!' The 
 Colonel clasps his hand to his sword ; ray lady lifts her 
 mask and looks amazed ; the music ceases ; the minuet is 
 suspended ; the sovereign himself conies forward, when the 
 lady recovers her speech and tragically exclaims, ' Begone,
 
 404 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGTT. 
 
 imposter!' Dick immediately faints, and there is a grand 
 tableau, worthy of Rich in his best days." 
 
 " In the name of common sense, Henry, what is all this 
 about ?" 
 
 "Why, don't you see Colonel and Mrs. Brett yonder, 
 whom Savage supposes to be his mother ? And don't you 
 see Miss Brett following, who is a Court demirep, and 
 whose influence saved the neck of her half brother when 
 he was sentenced to be hanged ? But who comes here ? 
 Sir William Yonge, Member for Honiton, and Tom Win- 
 nington with him." 
 
 They sauntered up slowly and unmasked ; the place was 
 now dreadfully hot and close. " We have had an odd dis- 
 cussion together," says Sir William Yonge " Tom and I ; 
 nothing less than whether there is a future ; and we want 
 a parson to settle it for us." 
 
 " If you get a parson of the present time to tell you he 
 will say yes, but laugh at you in his sleeve if you think 
 him serious," replied Fielding. The pair strolled, or rather 
 reeled and rolled away. 
 
 " There are two beautiful specimens," said Fielding. 
 " But they merely proclaim what nearly all feel, but are too 
 timid to say. Lord Herve} r , who is at the head of the wits 
 about Court, makes no secret of his atheism ; he is Yice- 
 Chamberlain. and sees all the begging letters which the 
 Queen gets from the parsons to make them bishops, and he 
 protests that every one is stuffed with envy, falsehood, de- 
 traction of each other, if rivals ; and covert sneers if they 
 are friends ; together with a sum total of uncharitableness, 
 avarice, and meanness that sickens him with the whole 
 fraternity.* Now I don't say that this is true, but Lord 
 Hervey says it is; and he makes it a rule whenever a 
 
 * Any one who reads the letters to Lord Bute in the manuscript department 
 of the British Museum, can easily believe this.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 405 
 
 Bishop pronounces the name of God, to laugh in his face 
 as a hypocrite. This thing reacts on the whole parlia- 
 mentary regiment of Sir Robert ; and these two who have 
 just left us are captains in the force; so that we are pret- 
 tily ruled and finally fooled, and think ourselves the most 
 religious people in the world, with the greatest amount of 
 wickedness practised every day before Heaven and the 
 Sun." 
 
 " You draw a very pleasing picture of things." 
 
 " Ah ! it's no worse now than it has always been. Do you 
 think Nineveh and Babylon were the only places where 
 they practised vice ? Nay, by St. Ann, we commit more in 
 one day in England than those stupid Babylonians did in 
 a year." 
 
 "Ain't that Grigsby?" says Arbuthnot, who saluted 
 Fielding, " another of the South Sea forty thieves Gads- 
 life, but they're all here in honor of the Royal Family. 
 This fellow was so vain of his wealth in the glorious days 
 of jobbery, that he once ordered his coachman to feed his 
 horses on gold. When the bubble exploded, and all the 
 swindlers were before the House, one, Moore, moved that 
 this fellow should be allowed 10,000 out of the spoil. A 
 wag got up and said, ' That as Mr. Grigsby was in the 
 habit of feeding his horse on gold, he had no doubt he 
 could feed on it himself; he therefore moved that Mr. 
 Grigsby might be allowed as much gold as he could eat, 
 and that the rest of his estate might go to the relief of 
 those whom he had pillaged. The house laughed, but they 
 allowed the fellow 2,000." 
 
 While this was going on, Rigby pulled out of his pock- 
 ets a bundle of Chinese crackers; and assuming his mask^ 
 went up to a lady dressed like a Peruvian vestal, to whom 
 he made a low bow, and presenting them, said, " Madame, 
 if you put this to the next sconce, and it burns blue you may 
 be sure your lover is faithful." Luckily a sconce happened 
 26
 
 406 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 to be near ; and the unconscious nymph, without a moment's 
 reflection, applying the first on the string, the whole exploded 
 filling the room with smoke and a most unsavory smell, in 
 the midst of which Rigby, like an evil spirit, as suddenly 
 vanished. 
 
 A short, stout-made, coarse-looking man, but with an 
 eye glittering with humour, a true English terrier face, and a 
 firm mouth, came up. He shook Fielding by the hand very 
 heartily, saying, " Mr. Fielding, I scarcely expected to see 
 you here, patronizing this outlandish French thing." 
 
 "Ah I Hogarth," said Harry, "I am delighted to meet 
 you. Surely you may know what has brought me, with- 
 out suspecting that I had any partiality for the Mounseers 
 and their funny frog-fashions. I have no doubt we have 
 neither of us come to see that ugly owl Heidegger 
 
 Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance, 
 
 but to sketch character; you for the easel, your humble 
 servant for the stage." 
 
 " Gad so," said our companion heartily, you've guessed 
 right. And a pretty lot of long-eared fools, I see look ! 
 I have just taken one on my thumb-nail ;" and he showed 
 us a laughable sketch of Lord Chesterfield's face, in which 
 "that little monkey full of tricks," as Sir Charles Hanbury 
 Williams called him, was inimitably depicted the baboon 
 outlines which so many ladies loved, being hit off to per- 
 fection. 
 
 " I know a woman who would never forgive you, if she 
 saw that," said Fielding, glancing towards a corner of the 
 room where a couple seemed very fond. 
 
 " And who may the tasteless jade be ?" asked Hogarth ; 
 "faith, she must be a female ape, I think though she 
 dresses like one of Eve's sex." 
 
 "Why, Lady Fanny Shirley, whom that fellow has 
 flirted with for the last ten years, and after whom he is
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 407 
 
 now dangling in yonder recess," answered the dramatist, 
 and he pointed them out. 
 
 "Oh! by George," shouted Hogarth, "I'll have her 
 also," and he began to make a humorous sketch of the 
 fair lady. 
 
 When it was finished he showed it to us the thing was 
 wonderful worthy of so great a genius as W. H. certainly 
 was. 
 
 " This place is horribly hot," he said, " I wish I could 
 get a pot of honest English porter, and a steak but this 
 cursed Swiss lets nothing in but his foreign wines, and his 
 French kickshaws, the very look of which makes me sick 
 for the day. How much do they reckon the knave makes 
 by this torn-foolery ?" 
 
 " Why, at least 5,000 a-year, that is by the fair profits, 
 besides what he gets by managing the assignations." 
 
 Hogarth sighed. He was then eking out a scanty sub- 
 sistence for himself, like my poor glorious cousin, and 
 must have found it no easy matter even to spare the money 
 to come here. He probably had got a pass from Tyers, or 
 some charitable lover of art. 
 
 "What's that Brutus said, when he was dying?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " 0, Virtue I I have long worshipped thee now I know 
 thee to be but a shadow," responded Fielding. 
 
 "Ah! true, true," said the other, with a sad gravity 
 that contrasted strangely with that laughing eye and merry 
 lip. And he repeated with a bluff John Bull sort of accent, 
 that did one good to hearken to it, amid the sighs and 
 simpers of this effeminite crowd : 
 
 As the brute world to Father Adam came, 
 Requesting with inquiring looks a name, 
 To every beast a title he assigned, 
 And nominated all the sylvan kind. 
 So savage multitude* about me throng- 
 Did Adam's power but to me belong t 
 Yet though they cheat the world by their diigulM, 
 They are but asset to the painter's eye*.
 
 408 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 And saying this, the splendid little wag moved off in 
 search of new caricatures. 
 
 Dodington now sailed up to where we were. 
 
 "Ah!" said he, "I think I know you," addressing him- 
 self to Fielding, who had put on his mask some time before. 
 
 "That is more than I do myself," answered Harry, 
 "though I have been long endeavoring to carry out 
 Solon's advice on that point." 
 
 " Your answer convinces me that I am right. You are 
 Henry Fielding. How is your father ?" 
 
 "Faith!" said my cousin, "I scarcely know; he never 
 writes to me but when he wants to borrow money, and then 
 he always tells me he is dying. I begin to think he must 
 be like Tithonus." 
 
 " And I hope you lend it to him like a dutiful son." 
 
 " I give it when I can, and I lend it when I cannot ; and 
 I am sorry to say the latter is the most usual condition 
 with me." 
 
 " Every man of talent must be sorry to hear it. Shall I 
 give you a cheque for 200 ?" 
 
 "I should be very glad to get it, but on what ground?" 
 
 " Why to abuse the Prince and praise Walpole." 
 
 " What ! praise ' that big belly, those swollen arms, that 
 huge body,' as Queen Caroline calls him ! Mr. Dodington, 
 I did not think you would insult me so. You know that I 
 am poor; but have I ever shown myself a rogue?" 
 
 " Oh ! damn it, I thought you had your price, like all 
 writers, but as you haven't, good-night. I can buy as good 
 as you any day in Fleet street." 
 
 " There goes a scoundrel," said Fielding to me, but loud 
 enough to be heard by Bubb. " His vanity, insolence, and 
 vulgarity are all insupportable. He is the King's pimp, 
 yet he thinks himself a gentleman ; he is Walpole's butt, yet 
 he fancies himself a patriot ; he is Bolingbroke's tool, yet 
 he supposes he is a wit. If a lady but speaks to him, he
 
 EDWARD WOKTLBY MONTAQU. 409 
 
 repeats among all his friends that he has seduced her; and 
 if the King kicks him he falls down on his knees and begs 
 to kiss his hand for such a mark of favor. Bridgewater 
 has a member worthy of it." 
 
 I could see how nettled he was. To be insulted by any 
 one is not pleasant, but to be insulted by the meanest of 
 mankind, which this Dodington was, was assuredly a bitter 
 pang. Notwithstanding his philosophy, he was sullen and 
 silent for three or four minutes. At length he said, as if 
 involuntarity 
 
 " Why should this flea annoy me ?" 
 
 And he recited, in his rich mellow tones 
 
 " When for some time he sat at the Treasury board, 
 And the clerks there with titles hod tickled his ear, 
 From every day hearing himself called a lord, 
 He begged of Sir Robert to make him a peer. 
 But in an ill hour, 
 For Walpolo looked sour, 
 And said It was not In his will or his power, 
 Do you think, sir, the King would advance such a scrub, 
 Or the peerage debase with the name of a Bubbt" 
 
 This outburst relieved Fielding; his rage at the uncere 
 monious insolence of this fat-faced fawner on the veriest 
 lap-dogs of St. James's evaporated, and all was clear 
 again. He laughed and said 
 
 " Come, let us seek some new game. But before we leave 
 just look at that stiff-looking man following the Duke of 
 Argyle like his shadow; you have heard of Gyles Earle, 
 member for Malmesbury, now one of the Board of Green 
 Cloth that is he, but I wish you could see his crabbed 
 face and hog's eyes. He is as covetous as the Duke him- 
 self, and a desperate glutton in eating oysters, while he 
 starves his unfortunate servants, and won't pay even his 
 butcher's or his Billingsgate bills. T'other day, as he was 
 gorging his favorite food by peckfuls, he said, ' Oh, what 
 fine things oysters would be if we could make our servants 
 live on the shells.' "
 
 410 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 While we were digesting this joke, a smart female figure, 
 with the archest eyes in the world peering through her 
 mask, came hastily up to where we stood, and tapping 
 Fielding on the shoulder with a splendid fan, cried out in 
 musical accents 
 
 "My dear Fielding, I have been looking for you this 
 hour. Come with me." 
 
 " My dearest countess," answered Harry, but he imme- 
 diately checked himself, and substituted for the inadvertent 
 word the more equivocal term "creature," but not so quickly 
 as to be unnoticed by me, or a grinning mask, close by, 
 who seemed to contemplate the moving crowd as Cerberus 
 might look upon the thronging phantoms hurrying through 
 the gorge of Pluto. 
 
 " My dearest creature," says my cousin, " I am delighted 
 that we have met at last. This is my cousin, young Wort- 
 ley Montagu. Wortley, allow me to introduce you to Mrs. 
 Johnson, of Bath." 
 
 I bowed with great deference, the lady curtseyed, and 
 whispered something into my companion's ear. He turned 
 to me. 
 
 " Good-night, Wortley," he said, " I must go. Let me 
 see you in a day or two," and Fielding and Mrs. Johnson 
 of Bath disappeared through one of the doors. t 
 
 The old Cerberus of whom I have spoken came up. 
 
 "So you are young Montagu," she said, "and a horrid 
 scapegrace too ; and that spark's Fielding, and Mrs. John- 
 son of Bath is " 
 
 "Aye," said I, "old woman, who is Mrs. Johnson of 
 Bath?" 
 
 " Mrs. Johnson of Bath is no better than she should be, 
 and Fielding will rue her acquaintance one of these days. 
 Her maiden name was Ethelreda, or rather Audrey Harrison, 
 and her lather made his fortune out of the blacks, when he 
 was Governor of Fort St. George. She is now the wife of
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 411 
 
 Charles Viscount Townshend, and a very pretty wife she is. 
 She is squandering her black blood-money very lavishly, 
 and has a particular affection foq^young fellows like your 
 friend." 
 
 I heard, and was amazed. Alas, poor Harry 1 Had it 
 come to this ? Only a few minutes before he had described 
 this lady in the strangest terms, and now Had his neces- 
 sities then been so dire? Doubtless. He described all 
 afterwards in Tom Jones: that wondrous work: the most 
 perfect picture of daily life since Homer sang. 
 My strange companion resumed : 
 
 " What are you doing here ? I know your mother, Jack- 
 anapes. Have you come with her?" 
 
 u Madam, that you are a woman prevents me from an- 
 swering you as I should, but I beg " , 
 
 " Pooh, pooh, boy don't talk to an old woman like me 
 in your hoity-toity style. I am a grandmother perhaps 
 a great grandmother. I like your spirit mj-self, and I 
 know more about you than you fancy. Lend me your 
 arm " and she put forth a hand beautifully white, and 
 loaded with jewels worthy of a sovereign queen. Every 
 finger bore a gem worth a king's ransom. I had never 
 seen or even dreamed of such a sight as this. 
 
 I supported her to a seat, and examined her closely. I 
 could perceive that she was what she represented herself to 
 be, indeed, an old woman, but her hair was still beautiful, 
 her eyes were bright, and her hands retained their loveliness. 
 Her figure was bent, but there was an immense spirit evi- 
 dently in that aged frame. She spoke with an air of com- 
 mand. I felt that I was talking to one who had known 
 and lived with Emperors and Kings. She was attired as 
 Margaret Finch, the Gypsy Queen, and now began to tell 
 strange wonders to gaping inquirers. She seemed to pen- 
 etrate every disguise, and knew the secret history of all 
 who questioned her. The ordinary rabble who approached
 
 412 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 her she disdained to answer ; but the royal and noble per- 
 sons who thronged the gay scene were immediately attended 
 to, and I noticed that the majority went away with an air 
 of chagrin. She kept me near her, but yet at a sufficient 
 distance not to overhear all she said, as each new-comer 
 came. A wild smile of delight played in her eye as some 
 turned away a melancholy gleam passed over it as she 
 answered others. I was singularly attracted by this queer 
 being, and was constrained to stay near her, not only be- 
 cause she told me to do so, but also because I really could 
 not tear mj^self away. I expected at each new interview 
 something definite and desperate, which would perhaps 
 require my interference to protect her. 
 
 " Here comes Henrietta, Duchess of Marlborough," she 
 said, as a wild-looking woman passed us. " I wonder does 
 she ever think of her glorious father, who made her what 
 she is ? Yet I think not, or she would not have disgraced 
 herself with that blind, gouty, vain coxcomb, Congreve, 
 the player, or taken the ten thousand pounds, which he 
 left her by his will, when he had so many poor relations 
 starving in Staffordshire. I think she is worth a million 
 so what she wanted the fellow's pittance for I don't know. 
 She has a silver statue of the villain brought to her dinner 
 table every day as the Egyptians had a skeleton to re- 
 mind her, I suppose, of hell. Yet I wish she hadn't con- 
 nected their names together on that filthy marble in the 
 Abbey. Oh, that John Churchill could come back to earth 
 but for an hour then would rare changes be seen and 
 heard of. Here is another Duchess just as mad, Kitty 
 Hyde of Queensbury, followed by her literary lackey, Jack 
 Gay, who has grown corpulent on his Beggar's Opera 
 profit, and his South Sea robberies. Doesn't this seem 
 to you the age when rapscallions rise out of the vilest 
 dunghills ? We have for our Apollo, little Pope, the linen 
 draper ; here is Gay, whose father was a mercer, and who
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 413 
 
 was himself a mercer's shop-boy. Mat Prior, a tapster, 
 and so on forever. Our great people find their account in 
 patronizing these maggots and giving them pensions for 
 unlimited praise. Walpole is supported by some dozens 
 of the vilest wretches that ever crept about the lowest 
 corners of Parnassas. The Tories first called this spawn 
 of vipers into being, and now the Whigs emulate their 
 example. We have for poet-laureate a common pander to 
 the nobility, (I smiled at hearing this allusion to my old 
 friend Colley,) and we have for Premier a man who behaves 
 before all as if virtue were a farce, and decency of speech 
 and manner a hypocritical pretence." 
 
 In this way the old woman went on blending strange 
 shrewdness with the most cutting sarcasm, and rivcttiug 
 me by her wit and bitterness for there was something 
 singularly congenial in our tempers; both being misan- 
 thropical, from the best of all reasons, I suppose, a wretched 
 experience of the world. Whatever gayety I brought with 
 me into the Opera House departed wholly. I looked round 
 and felt as if I could pierce under each disguise and what 
 I saw there presented nothing to remove my sadness. I 
 fell into a reverie on my own desolate position; desolate, 
 because I would not bind my soul in fetters, and crawl at 
 the feet of a man who was a father but in name, and had 
 much less feeling for me than for one of the guineas that 
 he adored. My companion observed me. 
 
 "Come," said she, "Master Jackanapes, what are you 
 thinking of? This is no place for meditation. You look 
 like Marius amid the ruins of Carthage." 
 
 "And if I do, am I not amid more melancholy ruins 
 still the ruins of human souls, utterly destroyed by vice!" 
 
 "Do you see that man that walks like a tongs he is all 
 legs and scarcely any head. I know him through his vain 
 disguise. The Venetian Senator's robe was never on a 
 more unsuitable body. That is Neddy Harley, son to the
 
 414 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 falsest varlet I ever knew. His father and a slut named 
 Hill (she is now Abigail Masham, and I shouldn't wonder 
 if we saw her here) conspired together to get old Queen 
 Anne wholly into their power, and they did so, by poison- 
 ing her mind against her only true friend in the world, the 
 Duchess of Marlborough. They stole in at all hours of the 
 day and night; and when the poor woman was heated with 
 brandy, they got her to pledge herself to the most absurd 
 projects not the vainest of which was a trick to bring 
 back the Pretender. When the old king was on his death- 
 bed at Rome, some of the Jacobites got around him and 
 made him write a letter to his daughter, prajdng that if 
 she did not deliver over the throne to her brother, she might 
 die childless, and must expect his bitterest curse. This 
 so frightened Queen Anne, whose nerves were weakened 
 by repeated drams, and was besides so singularly borne 
 out by the successive deaths of all her children, that she 
 was ready to consent to any thing, and the Tories here had 
 all prepared, even to the proclamation of the Pretender 
 himself, in St. Paul's church-yard, when the poor woman 
 was suddenly taken off, and the chief rogues made their 
 escape to France. Had Bolingbroke remained, he must 
 have figured on Tower Hill, as Harley, to save himself, had 
 given up all his papers to the new ministry, and sacrificed 
 his best friend, Bishop Atterbury, who was obliged to fly 
 also. This treachery was in keeping with all the scoun- 
 drel's doings though I never will forgive Walpole for not 
 having shipped off Mrs. Abigail to the colonies. She would 
 have made a good slave-driver, being false, cruel and cun- 
 ning as the snake that deceived our poor mother in Para- 
 dise. She is now a peeress, and figures grandly among the 
 Lord's anointed. Thus is history made. For this sly, 
 worthless waiting woman elevated Harley to the Govern- 
 ment of England, who then devised a scheme that might 
 have changed the fortune of the world, and influenced the
 
 KDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 415 
 
 fate of unborn generations for the next thousand years; 
 and Walpole now occupies the same place, wholly through 
 his sister, Dolly Walpole, who was the first wife of that 
 good-looking fool, Townshend, having by the rarest acci- 
 dent escaped being the open and avowed mistress of the 
 Marquis of Wharton. Ahl boy, I could tell you such 
 things. But the profane many never know these matters, 
 and think every thing ministerial is grand, and great, and 
 noble, and elevated. For my own part, I believe history is 
 made up of the basest of all materials, though of course 
 they are finely culled over to deceive the unthinking public, 
 who arc all born slaves, and ever keep themselves so by 
 their ignorance, passion, and prejudice. There is Fox, 
 whose father was a lackey or a .groom, I don't know which. 
 He spends all his time at hazard, and is nursed with every 
 private vice yet I have no doubt if he can steal my goose 
 he will one day be Prime Minister. He certainly tries 
 hard to do it but I will prevent him if I can." To my 
 amazement she went up to the young man, since so cele- 
 brated as Lord Holland, and cried out, " Charley, Charley, 
 what brings you here ? You should have been at the gaming 
 table, and when were you last in a sponging house ?" 
 
 The old woman began to muse. 
 
 " Boy," said she, " you ought to be a poet. Do you re- 
 member Dryden's lines?" and with melancholy emphasis 
 she whispered into my ear 
 
 "When I consider life, 'tis all a cheat, 
 Yet fooled with hope, men favor the deceit. 
 Trust on, and think to-morrow will repay ; 
 To-morrow's falser than the former day ; 
 Lies more ; and when it says we shall bo bleat 
 With some new joy, cuts off what we possest. 
 Strange cozenage ! none would lire past years again, 
 Yet all hope pleasure In what still remain, 
 And from the dregs of life think to receive 
 What the first sprightly running could not glre. 1 * 
 
 Several persons now came up to my companion, and
 
 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAOTT. 
 
 taking her for the Sibyl she appeared, requested her to tell 
 their fortunes. She seemed nothing loth, but first of all 
 requested her hand to be crossed with gold. There was no 
 difficulty in this. Among them I recognized Lord Hervey, 
 Pulteney and Lady Mary herself. Even the Prince of 
 Wales approached and seemed half inclined to consult her. 
 But she solicited none. To Lord Hervey she said, "Ah! 
 you couldn't sell your wife I pity you; but Walpole 
 wants her, and he will do as much for you as the King." 
 To Pulteney, " When you fence with Walpole, aim at his 
 liver, he has no heart. Don't let him escape like Sporus." 
 To Young, who ventured to accost her, she merely said, 
 "Begone, Caiaphas." To Lady Mary, "Woman, where is 
 thy son?" Moll Skerret herself came laughing up, and 
 said, "Gypsy, you know fortunes what is mine?" The 
 old woman fixed a glance of deep hate at her. "To rise 
 from cinderwench to concubine, and from concubine to 
 countess I suppose." 
 
 A yell of rage broke out from the virtuous tribe of flat- 
 terers. One rushed forward, and would, I think, have 
 struck the old woman, when I threw myself in front of her, 
 but ere any thing decisive could occur, some half dozen 
 persons flung themselves between us, and prevented vio- 
 lence. Whether they did so by accident, or were stationed 
 round her by design, I could not guess. The lion spirit of 
 the old woman negatives the last supposition ; but this 
 lucky interposition makes it not unlikely. There was a 
 noise; the great Heidegger himself came forward and in- 
 terfered ; and even then I feared it would fare but badly 
 with the Sibyl, for he beckoned to a soldier who was on 
 dut}', when a person came close and whispered something 
 into his ear, at which he trembled, turned pale, and with the 
 most submissive air bowed to the old woman, saying 
 
 " My lords, ladies and gentlemen, here has been some
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAQU. 417 
 
 mistake; I can suffer no violence; let the music play up 
 and the dances recommence." 
 
 The crowd separated, a gaper or two still, including Jack 
 Froth well, who muttered "damme," remained, and the old 
 woman drew me to her side. 
 
 "Boy," she said, "you are just beginning your career; 
 hear the words of one who must soon leave it. To persons 
 like you earth appears a sort of paradise to me it shows 
 itself in the colors of hell. When I was at your time of 
 life, I thought all men good and all women true ; I went 
 into the world with a frank open heart and hand. I would 
 have gone a hundred miles to serve any one who needed 
 service, and I would have fearlessly asked the same kind- 
 ness from another for myself, so great was my confidence 
 in human nature. I have seen life in all ranks and orders ; 
 I have mixed in courts and moved in cottages. There is 
 no phase in human existence that is to me a sealed book. 
 I have had children and they have deserted and betrayed 
 me; I have had friends, and they have abandoned me; I 
 have had bosom intimates, and they have proved false and 
 hollow; I never knew but one man who was steadfast to 
 me, and he was my husband. I have had every thing that 
 man desires or woman covets, health, power, treasure, fame. 
 Yet with all these it is my fixed conviction that we are 
 every one of us in hell at this moment; that this life is a 
 place of punishment for our crimes; that it is really and 
 truly no other locality than hell itself, and we are demons 
 all, who find our joy in persecuting each other." 
 
 "A glorious theory, madam," I said, "to teach to one 
 like me. Yet I confess my own brief experience goes a 
 great way to confirm it." 
 
 "When you have lived to my years you will hold it as an 
 article of faith, a great deal more positively than any one 
 of our thirty-nine or forty solemn follies. For these in a
 
 418 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 great measure have been invented by wicked bishops and 
 doctors to keep themselves aloft, and to bind down the 
 multitude below; but that which I feel is the spontaneous 
 growth of wisdom itself within the heart, and if the whole 
 world of thinkers were canvassed and polled, the great ma- 
 jority of them would confess the truth of what I have said. 
 But amid the world of fools, the world of thinkers is lost. 
 I remember I once asked Lord Shaftesbury what in his 
 opinion was the true religion ? He answered, ' Madam, men 
 of sense are all of one religion.' I then pressed him, ' Pray, 
 my lord, what religion may that be?' 'Madam,' he replied, 
 'men of sense never tell.' Thus he left me to infer that the 
 only religion that can be true is that which is the offshoot 
 of a man's own wisdom, and is not suggested to him by 
 creeds, or liturgies, or prayer books, where we are taught 
 things by rote, as if God were a schoolmaster who could 
 be bribed by our proficiency in learning ABC. This is 
 not so there will come a day when you will remember 
 these words and acknowledge them in your heart to be 
 true as gospel." 
 
 She left me. I followed her at some distance, and when 
 I saw her get into a magnificent chair, with the Churchill 
 arms and a ducal coronet, I knew that I had been talking 
 to Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough. 
 
 I wandered listlessly about. The place with all its 
 crowds now seemed melancholy and miserable. I sought 
 in vain for Fielding, whose volatile spirits would, I hoped, 
 rouse me from deep despondency. Though I searched 
 minutely, I could not discover him. Two figures in close 
 conversation now attracted my attention. They were so 
 deeply absorbed that surrounding objects seemed to make 
 no impress on them. In one I recognized Lord Hervey; 
 the other, in his outlines, showed all the daring reckless- 
 ness of Dom Balthazar. He was attired as a bravo a 
 very appropriate dress, if it were the same. I was impelled
 
 EDWARD WOBTLBT MONTAaU. 419 
 
 towards them, yet I gradually came near so as not to 
 attract notice. They were seated at a small table near 
 one of the pillars. I thought it no breach of honor to get 
 within earshot. If they were plotting against me or Fran- 
 cesca, it became in truth my duty to be made acquainted 
 with their devices; but the ever moving crowd wholly pre- 
 vented me. I could hear a word now and then from Dom 
 Balthazar, who was evidently under the influence of wine; 
 his companion, more cautious, spoke in so low a tone as 
 to be inaudible to me. There seemed to be some alterca- 
 tion. The lord was evidently angry at the appearance of 
 his confederate in such a place. I could see that the latter 
 chafed under his remonstrances, but he was not a man to 
 yield tamely. At length he said, fiercely 
 
 "I came here because I could find you nowhere else. 
 You have been denied to me at your door twenty times. 
 I cannot and will not go to Spain without money. Money 
 I want; money I'll have. What hinders me this moment 
 from rising up before all this company and telling them 
 that the true owner of certain estates is now a prisoner 
 in" 
 
 My sense of hearing was now wound up to the extreme 
 point, but as the bravo concluded his speech he looked 
 warily about him, and whispered the final word into his 
 companion's ear. The latter started. "Come," said he, 
 "come with me." And they left the place. I dared not 
 follow. With an aching heart I left the Opera House. 
 " Yes," I said, " in Spain she is. Akiba was right. The 
 airy vision that I saw did not deceive me. Let me seek 
 her without delay. Let me at least fly from this land of 
 villains, and in sequestered nature seek with her, its heav- 
 enly child, the happiness which belongs not to these worn- 
 out and wretched communities. Why do I linger any 
 longer here ? I will seek her to the world's end, and if 1
 
 420 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 fail or die in the pursuit, I shall have at least failed nobly, 
 and perish without feeling that I have misused my life." 
 
 I scarcely know where I passed that night. I meditated 
 on my proceedings, and arranged my future course. Fran- 
 cesca, if carried to Spain, had without doubt been con- 
 ve} r ed through France. This was a journey which, in m t y 
 present condition, I could scarcely make. A sea-vo} r age 
 to the Peninsula seemed to me, therefore, the only practical 
 mode of getting there; this would cost me scarcely any 
 thing. I hurried to the city, and having parted with my 
 fine clothes to one of that kind and benevolent confrater- 
 nity who had assisted my cousin Fielding, I found myself 
 with a few guineas in my pocket, and an attire suitable to 
 the condition which I assumed. I made inquiries among 
 the shipping, and soon found one that was ready to sail. 
 She was bound for Bilboa. I entered myself on board as a 
 common sailor, and before night was ploughing the dark 
 waters. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 OH ! with what fierce delight I was again free. I turned 
 my back on London that vast metropolis of guilt and 
 shame, infamy and falsehood, and was once more a denizen 
 of open loving nature ; gazing on her skies, borne over her 
 waters, floating, as it were, like an eagle on her mighty 
 winds. But for the branded agony^ on my soul, I should 
 have been happy ; even as it was, I felt a rapture such as I 
 had not experienced since my sojourn among the dark 
 Galore of the tents. Home, friends, kindred, all fare veil ; 
 I care not if it be forever. I am alone on the dark ocean 
 alone with heaven and my thoughts; the intrigues, con- 
 tamination, vain, insipid joys, and vainer strifes and enmi-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 421 
 
 ties of the educated crowd, vanishing away like fogs or 
 frenzies, forgotten or despised by one who longs to be a 
 MAN. What though I am poor, a vagabond, and unknown, 
 still, have I not this divine celestial arch of beauty ; now 
 sapphire blue, now silvered with dappled cloudlets; now 
 burnished with beaming stars ; now golden with the splen- 
 dors of the rising or descending sun ; have I not mountain, 
 ocean, vale, and river; and glorious forest and fragrant 
 garden, to be the solace of my soul, and to companion it 
 with sublime associations ? And having these, what can 
 there be of merely human mechanism I need ? And my 
 heart answered nought, nought ; and I was content. 
 
 Our ship floated on before a favoring breeze; the sun 
 gleamed upon the ocean all around us, and clothed it with 
 a living light ; the waves rose up, and on their white rolling 
 crests I saw symbolized that dashing liberty for which I 
 had pined so long ; the sails swelled, the ropes rattled, we 
 seemed bounding over the mighty element with pride and 
 joyousness, and the elastic movement of the vessel com- 
 municated a portion of its own buoyancy to my heart, and 
 made it for a while forget. An angelic vision methought 
 glittered over the surging prow more heavenly-fair unto 
 my soul than to the weary, hopeless wanderer in the desert, 
 the well-known star that leads him homeward from despair 
 the vision of my lost, my loved Francesca, who, I was 
 persuaded, even now felt as if sympathetically, an instinc- 
 tive dream that I was on my way to rescue her. In the 
 day I saw it like a glittering halo in the night also it was 
 there, and it outshone the stellar glory of the Heavens. 
 " Yes, Francesca," I cried out, " I am on my way to free thee 
 to break thy chains, and clasp thee to this heart that 
 beats only for thee. Lift up thy prayers, O holy one of 
 my hopes, and let them ascend before the Supreme, that 
 speedily the hour may come which shall witness once again 
 the blending of our souls in one." 
 27
 
 422 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 On, on, and we sped onward, nor did the blessed wind 
 abate once until we reached that noble cape, and anchored 
 in the port. What incidents occurred throughout the 
 voyage if indeed there were any I have long forgotten. 
 I went through the easy duties of my place for the wind 
 made the voyage more like a bird's flight than any thing 
 else that I can think of I mingled I suppose with the 
 other sailors, and obeyed the captain's orders when they 
 were given. But nothing of these do I recollect. The 
 whole voyage is a blank on my mind. I was in the land 
 of dreams all the while, and they were dreams brightened 
 with youthful hope and smiling expectation. Whether I 
 slept on deck or below, or how many days we sailed, or 
 whether we saw other ships, or what was done or said by 
 any one, I have wholly forgotten. I remember only the 
 aspect of the ocean, the brightness of the heavens, the 
 grand loveliness of sea and sky, the arrow-like motion of 
 our good ship, and the bound of my heart as I saw the 
 distant Spanish mountains. I went on shore. Of the lan- 
 guage I knew nothing. To obtain a knowledge of it was 
 indispensable. I lost no time, but proceeding to the nearest 
 convent, I knocked at the gate, and in some way commu- 
 nicated my wish to see the superior. He came a tall man 
 with a bald brow ; austere, dark, grave, cold, and hard as a 
 stone ; selfishness and command graven in every line and 
 feature. I accosted him in Latin, and told him I was an 
 Englishman, ignorant of the language, but anxious to learn 
 it; a student bent on theological knowledge, unable at 
 present to pay for it ; a wanderer and an exile with a sol- 
 emn duty to perform, which could hardly be achieved, un- 
 less I were permitted to sojourn there, or in some similar 
 establishment for a short period. The Abbot listened 
 gravely ; and though I could perceive that his surprise was 
 great, still only a practised observer like myself could 
 penetrate that brazen mask his face. He did not speak
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 423 
 
 for some time, but he scanned me with a searching glance 
 a glance of deep suspicion, though he endeavored to hide 
 it. At length he seemed satisfied that I had no ill-design. 
 He asked me my name? I told him. My rank? I told 
 him freely. My religion ? -1 answered that I had been 
 bred a Protestant, but that I had long had doubts, and 
 here perhaps they could be solved. This last answer de- 
 cided him. The Church of Rome will run any risk to gain 
 a convert. I was besides an Englishman and to save the 
 soul of one of that wealthy island has always been a favor- 
 ite pursuit with the astute soldiers of the Church of Peter. 
 It almost always brings gold into their coflers it certainly 
 tends to pave the way for the restoration of that long-lost 
 land to its true and ancient lord the Pope. 
 
 I stayed here six month's, during which I learned the 
 language perfectly. How exquisitely beautiful was this 
 monastic solitude! For the first week I experienced only 
 piety, solitary thought, purity and devotion the silver 
 light of philosophic calm. In a little while the true char- 
 acter of these people was revealed. The fiery passions 
 which are in the hearts of all Spaniards broke forth ; the 
 most terrible feud became displayed. The Abbot was a 
 tyrant whose sway was undisputed and indisputable. The 
 Shah of Persia, the Grand Mogul, owned not more absolute 
 dominion than he. The brethren bowed before him in 
 fear; the slightest infringement of his orders entailed per- 
 secution and imprisonment on the unhappy transgressor. 
 The very magnitude of his power destroyed and debased 
 him ; it gave full force to all his worst passions, and he 
 surrendered himself wholly to their dominion. His frown 
 was like death ; his smile was life to these poor wretches. 
 Thus to win the second, and to avoid the first, became the 
 sole struggle of their minds. They hated each other with 
 an inveterate fury; those who were out of favor, because 
 of envy; those who were in favor, because they dared not
 
 424 EDWABD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 do otherwise than hate those whom the Abbot disliked. The 
 whole atmosphere that externally seemed peace, serenity, 
 sunshine, holiness and love, was charged with falsehood, 
 treachery, dark suspicion, base insinuation, terror, anger, 
 and revenge. The air at times has seemed to me as if 
 thronged with invisible serpents exhaling venom. In our 
 chapel, when the organ pealed and the hymns arose, I felt 
 as if I were living in a den of snakes, whose every breath 
 was fire and poison and malignity. 
 
 I was put under the tutelage of one Antonio, a middle- 
 aged monk, with fraud and astuteness deeply marked in 
 every lineament. Oil was not more smooth, honey was 
 not more sweet than were the tones of his voice they 
 trickled softly into the ear like nectar from the cup of 
 Hebe when she served the laughing gods. But this voice 
 was not the echo or the image of the speaker's soul, as 
 most voices are it was not a true or natural voice, but a 
 false, feigned, and fraudulent one, assumed for a purpose 
 and admirably disguised. There were moments when the 
 real tones penetrated through that deceitful mouth, when 
 he was off his guard as it were ; and he either remembered 
 not his part, or was overmastered by some strong passion. 
 Then, indeed, the horrid sound was heard, yet only faintly 
 but it was for the time the yelp of some savage creature 
 cruel, cowardly, bloodthirsty, and sneaking; a voice 
 that made your nerves thrill; that jarred against your 
 heart-strings ; that gave you a sensation as of something 
 harsh, rough and cold, against which all your senses had 
 an antipathy. Even he himself seemed startled by it, as if 
 he had heard some demon's whisper, for he immediately 
 looked abashed, and glided, though not without effort, into 
 his usual mellifluous accent, seeking hard to hide his awk- 
 wardness and confusion. But on these occasions his e3 r e 
 scanned you with suspicion ; you could see its furtive light 
 beneath his downcast modest lids, as if he sought to pene-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 425 
 
 trate your very being and find out whether that tone so 
 marked, yet so unusual, had awakened feelings within you 
 such as he wished to slumber. For a whole hour I have 
 observed him watching me after one of these chance ebulli- 
 tions of his natural essence; and though I took good care 
 to appear unsuspicious, yet I felt during the whole period 
 as if I were walking in a forest while I knew that a hyena 
 tracked my footsteps. 
 
 He took extraordinary pains to indoctrinate me in the 
 language, and spared no labor to convert me to the true 
 faith. He brought before my eyes the long and glorious 
 line of Pontiffs from Peter to Clement, an unbroken suc- 
 cession of scholars of Jesus, such as no other creed could 
 boast of. Here my lessons under Akiba came to my aid ; 
 and I at once confuted him by the far more ancient and 
 illustrious line of the Grand Lama, which an elective pon- 
 tificate has continued in unbroken succession for upwards 
 of four thousand years, and has held unlimited spiritual 
 sway over the greatest empire that the world ever saw. 
 Antonio first affected to deny this fact but the convent 
 was not without a library although it was little resorted 
 to, except for schoolmen like Sanchez or Aquinas, whose 
 lives were spent in weaving nets of hell for human souls 
 and when I convinced him that I was right, he merely re- 
 plied by the old argument that Go'd permits the Devil to 
 do these things for the purpose of trying the hearts of men. 
 When I told him that in my opinion this was reducing God 
 to the level of the Devil himself, he made me no answer, 
 but with a well-masked scowl, retired to his cell ; nor did I 
 again see him for several days. When he met me, he made 
 no allusion to our recent controversy, but proceeded to 
 some other argument ; nor did he ever again cite as con- 
 firmatory of the holiness of his church the historical proof 
 which had been so suddenly demolished. Had he been a 
 bungler in his art, he would have harped upon it again,
 
 426 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and yet again, until I should have grown hardened against 
 him but he was a more subtle dialectitian ; and I always 
 observed that when he was thoroughly beaten on any one 
 point he never again alluded to it not confessing indeed 
 that he was so beaten, but hoping that I myself might in 
 time furnish an argument in his favor, which did not occur 
 to him at the instant of dispute. 
 
 Meanwhile the Abbot affected to regard me as a prodigy 
 of good sense and learning. He consulted me on classical 
 lore ; he sought my opinion on subjects of historical inves- 
 tigation ; he even professed to ask my advice on abstruse 
 questions of theology, and insinuated how great and glori- 
 ous would be my position before the world if I would but 
 enter the church and devote myself to her interests. Like 
 Dom Balthazar, he struck that chord in my nature which 
 he fancied beat to ambition but like Balthazar, he was 
 wrong, for I had, and have none. It has often occurred 
 to me as strange, that two men of great discernment in 
 mankind should both have so utterly misjudged me as to 
 mistake for ambition my lordly feeling of independence 
 but they certainly did make this error ; and no two feel- 
 ings as it seems to me are more opposite. For after the 
 most intimate knowledge of courts, cabinets and camps, I 
 am convinced that what is usually called ambition is a 
 dirty, mean, sneaking little passion, which has no self- 
 respect at all, but which perpetual!} 1 - debases itself in the 
 mire for the purpose of some wretched gain ; despicable in 
 the eyes of the truly great, who are scarcely ever known to 
 the world because they so utterly despise it. The renowned 
 general at whose name the nations are filled with wonder 
 owes probably his advancement to some courtezan's ca- 
 price, at whose feet he has grovelled like a lap-dog ; the 
 powerful minister who wields an empire and its destinies 
 has attained his elevation by humoring the foibles of some 
 artful menial, male or female, who has the ear of the Sov
 
 EDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 427 
 
 ereign ; and the celebrated statesman has paved the way 
 to eminence by stooping to the filthiest rabble, and sinking 
 below even their level, for the purpose of securing their 
 support. Could we but trace the secret springs by which 
 men of the most illustrious name have risen to the most 
 exalted heights, we should hesitate long before we decided 
 whether the baseness of the individual, or the folly of the 
 multitude who worshipped as a God a very loathsome 
 lickspittle, were the most worthy of surprise. These 
 springs we never shall have unveiled, and it is only by 
 accident that glimpses of them are seen. It is with this 
 conviction that I look upon all history as fable not more 
 real than a painting, or a dream, but used by knaves to 
 enslave asses. 
 
 There was a noble hall in the convent paved with mar- 
 ble, and wainscotted with black oak, on which were ranged 
 the full length portraits of all the men who had successively 
 filled the place of Abbot dark and fire-eyed men, whose 
 looks seemed to penetrate beneath their cowls, and to read 
 the inmost tablet of the heart. They were in every atti- 
 tude, from profound study up to rapt devotion ; and there 
 have been nights when as I paced this place alone, and tho 
 broken moonlight streamed in through the high windows, I 
 have half fancied they were real phantoms congregated 
 together, to devise new schemes to- move the world at their 
 will. In this hall the monks usually assembled when the 
 pious* meditations of the day were over, and some volumes 
 of legends were read and commented on by each in turn 
 under the supervision of the reverend superior. I had 
 heard and read of the bacchanalian revels which take place 
 in convents, but here there was nothing of the kind ; all 
 was gloom, asceticism, and repose, but the passions that 
 lay hidden under this awful stillness were only the more 
 terrible for being repressed. They were a large community 
 and properly speaking, I had no right to be one among
 
 428 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 them ; but an exception was made in my favor; for I have 
 no doubt the Abbot had not failed to ascertain that I was 
 a man of rank and great expectations ; and my flight from 
 home was considered only one of the eccentric aberrations 
 in which the best regulated Englishmen indulge. I was 
 treated no longer like a dependent living almost on alms, 
 but as a visitor who amused his fancy or his leisure by 
 assuming a species of odd disguise ; and every little art 
 was brought into play which could either attract my will 
 or secure my judgment. Every thing I beheld seemed 
 grave, decorous, holy ; and the Abbot himself was repre- 
 sented to me as a sort of sainted being by those who I knew 
 detested him as a fiend. 
 
 In my controversial discussions with Antonio, which 
 were sometimes carried on in the presence of some of the 
 other monks, there was one brother Juan, who never ven- 
 tured to take part in any of them, but who seemed to pay 
 the profoundest attention to all that was said, and to re- 
 gard myself with great interest. He was a young man, 
 not probably five and twenty, with a mild, benign expres- 
 sion, a noble forehead, and a proud eye, but the fervor of 
 the last he strove to subdue with all his strength. He was 
 silent, modest, and gentle ; and I was very much pleased 
 with him. In a short time a sort of acquaintance sprang 
 up; my teacher saw that I yearned to the young man, and 
 he gave him permission to come occasionally to my cell 
 and enlighten me on some points of Catholic faith. By 
 degrees our meetings became so frequent that not a day 
 passed in which we did not spend some time together. 
 The more I saw of him, the more I loved him. He ap- 
 peared to possess all the virtues of a man, and all the sweet 
 softness of a woman. We discoursed on a variety of sub- 
 jects, and I was amazed to find him sceptical on many 
 points which our reverend Abbot would have regarded as 
 among the main essentials of salvation. He was the
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 429 
 
 younger son of a noble house, and had been thnist into 
 this place solely against his will, to swell the wealth of an 
 elder brother, and add another to the innumerable victims 
 whom the Church engages every year iu her death-enfold- 
 ing maw. 
 
 Although my senior in years, he seemed to cling to me, 
 as a weaker plant will circle round one that is stronger and 
 more matured. I did not hesitate to admit him into my 
 fullest confidence to open my heart to him as to a brother ; 
 for although I scorn mankind in the mass, I have never 
 done so in detail, but have ever reposed trust in those 
 whom I believed worthy of it from the beginning, exactly 
 as I have narrated it here; he listened with intense inter- 
 est, and there were parts of it at which he even wept. More 
 susceptible and passionate in soul than us of northern 
 climes, he was alternately moved with anger, indignation, 
 and pity ; and he gave full utterance to the promptings of 
 each emotion as it arose within. I consulted him about 
 the means of finding Francesca but here we were both 
 wholly at a loss. We could not devise any scheme by 
 which in broad Spain, with its innumerable convents, 
 monasteries, and abbeys, we could with safety say in this 
 or that province she was to be found. To make a pilgrim- 
 age from one religious house to another as I had read that 
 the minstrel Blondel did when searching for his Master, 
 Richard Coeur de Lion, over the castellated continent, 
 seemed wholly hopeless, yet what other course remained ? 
 or by what other means could she 1x5 discovered? And 
 thus might my whole life pass ineffectually, and the close 
 be still clouded by despair. We consulted long and fre- 
 quently, but without any end gained. Chance alone as it 
 seemed must be relied on yet what a weak reliance ii 
 chance ! 
 
 Six months had now passed, and I was pressed to make 
 some declaration of my faith. The conduct of my com-
 
 430 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 panions was nothing; their creed seemed noble and sublime. 
 A most extraordinary variety of subtle arguments had 
 been brought to bear on my understanding, and being 
 young, and of a romantic temperament, Protestantism 
 appeared to me in all its chilling and prosaic features, 
 while the glory of the Roman church, half chivalric, half 
 celestial, was presented in a glittering light that excited a 
 powerful interest on my heart. I noticed that whenever I 
 consulted, or even hinted to Juan a thought of change, his 
 countenance always fell, and his silence was like an icy 
 wind on my budding hopes. He longed to speak, yet he 
 was evidently afraid. His looks were wary and suspicious ; 
 he seemed to act as if the very stones had ears. I have 
 often seen him beckon me to silence, and walk stealthily 
 towards a picture behind which he looked, as if he half 
 expected to discover some one hidden there ; he has done 
 the same in the evening to a large reading-desk, when the 
 dark vesper shadows hover over the vast hall, and listened 
 as if he heard the tread of some advancing footstep, whose 
 owner longed to betray him to destruction. One of the 
 monks suddenly disappeared. Had he escaped ? Was he 
 sick ? Had he gone on a mission ? Had he died ? No 
 one knew ; no one dared to ask. Even the eye questioned 
 not into the mystery. Every thing proceeded as usual. 
 The Abbot looked the same ; all the brethren seemed fig- 
 ures of stone on whom no outward circumstance could 
 make the least impression. I was myself filled with a sort 
 of vague awe at this strange incident in our community, 
 the strangest thing of all being that it excited no more 
 observation than if a fly had come and gone. 
 
 At length he said 
 
 " Wortley, I can bear this hell no longer. It is slowly 
 killing me. I had rather die at once. I will fly from this 
 place. I will become a soldier, bandit, beggar any thing 
 eo long as I can be free. I am surrounded by spies and
 
 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 431 
 
 wretches; my every moment is like Gehenna. All this 
 holiness which is professed here is but hypocrisy of the 
 vilest kind. You have yourself, to some extent, seen it, 
 but never can you dive into its depths like one who has 
 been born and bred in this religion. You will say this is 
 true of all religions. Perhaps it is. If a religion has not 
 force enough to make its own professors pious, it can- 
 not be a thing from God. If the theory which I have 
 broached be sound, the consequence must be this ; avoid 
 us, we are not of God but man. Princeps noster est 
 Satanas ! 
 
 " If I am to wait," I answered, " until I find a religion 
 which makes perfect men, I must wait forever. There is 
 no creed that can perform this." 
 
 " That is true ; I did not maintain any such absurdity. 
 I merely said, ' Seek that whose followers are least wicked ;' 
 that is about the superlative point to which fallen human 
 nature can ascend. Goodness is unattainable by man. If 
 man could be good, he would not be man at all, but an angel ; 
 he would have no business on earth ; he would be out of 
 his proper sphere. But no man can be good. All he can 
 hope at the utmost is to be least vicious. If you were 
 acquainted with all the men and women of Europe, you 
 would confess that of all other peoples they are perhaps 
 the most vicious in existence. Their various systems 
 must, consequently, be false. Observe, I do not speak of 
 pure Christianity, for that, as a system, does not exist. It 
 lives in a burlesque of that which Jesus really taught. 
 Your form of it is probably better than ours, but after all, 
 the difference is only slight. Let us depart together from 
 this place; let us abandon Europe forever; let us pene- 
 trate to the Orient, which God from the beginning has 
 made the cradle of all sublime and holy things, and judge 
 for ourselves, before we finally decide on a step that is to 
 regulate our fate for futurity."
 
 432 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 "Can it be possible, my friend, that I hear this from 
 you ? from you who are a sworn member of this church 
 and a soldier of this community ?" 
 
 " Why should it not be possible ? Why should it be im- 
 possible ? Think you I have lived so long and dared not 
 to reflect? Think you that my daity observation of the 
 men by whom I am surrounded has not produced seeds of 
 meditation within my mind, and that these seeds have not 
 produced fruit ? Yes, I am resolved to Ay if with you, 
 I shall be happy; if without you, nevertheless depart I 
 shall. If I remain here I have a home for life ; but what a 
 home ! My uncle, the Abbot, will protect me ; will promote 
 me ; perhaps even when he departs I may hope to govern 
 this community. But would that make amends for a life 
 misused, and for an existence which is a living lie betore 
 my Maker? Wortley, we must part, or go forth together." 
 
 " Can you then abandon your uncle ? He is a wise man, 
 a powerful man ; you say he is kind to you. Perhaps, in- 
 deed, since your father cast you in here, your uncle may 
 be your only friend. Do you know what the world really 
 is ? Have you considered how precarious is the life of him 
 who wanders penniless ?" 
 
 " My uncle I Yes, he is wise and powerful. But know 
 you why he is here ? Of what use is his wisdom ? It is 
 the cunning of the world no more; and what is that 
 before God ? When I look at him I am the more posi- 
 tively resolved. If the Church of Rome were true, my 
 uncle should have swung on the gallows ; as it is, he is one 
 of her chiefs and generals." 
 
 " Has he then committed any crime that you so distrust 
 him, and pronounce so severe a sentence against so near a 
 relation ? 
 
 "Listen and decide. My father, as you know, had a 
 vast estate. He married at an early age the only daughter 
 of an opulent merchant, who traded to the East, and re-
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 433 
 
 ceived with her an immense dowry. They lived at Toledo, 
 in a splendid palace. My uncle was in the habit of spend- 
 ing a month or two every year at Madrid. Our connec- 
 tions were powerful, and he figured at court ; but he never 
 brought his young wife there, nor did any of his acquaint- 
 ances in the capital know that he was married. Among 
 those houses at which he visited was that of the Marquis 
 of Montana. The marquis had a daughter as beautiful as 
 a young rose. An intimacy soon sprang up between her 
 and my uncle ; it was sanctioned by the father, and the 
 nuptials were fixed. The young wife at Toledo wrote fre- 
 quently to her husband, but he sent her a variety of ex- 
 cuses. At length her father wrote to some friends at 
 Madrid to ascertain what business detained his son-in-law 
 so long. The}' inquired. My uncle was sufficiently emi- 
 nent in the capital to have his movements and his projects 
 easily discoverable. The father-in-law was informed of the 
 coming nuptials ; he told his daughter, who was half dis- 
 tracted. She wrote a letter to the Marquis of Montana, 
 and another to the young lady. She did not upbraid her 
 husband in the least, but simply informed them of the facts. 
 My uncle was, of course, expelled the house. He returned 
 home. His wife was then pregnant. She received him 
 with every demonstration of the most passionate attach- 
 ment; she did not once allude to what had happened, but 
 behaved in every respect as if he had been the truest of 
 lords. He received all her love in silence ; he sometimes 
 smiled upon her ; she thought all was forgotten. Her rela- 
 tions vied with each other in giving him welcome ; the 
 most sumptuous feasts and entertainments were given to 
 honor his return. He went to all, and to every appear- 
 ance was happy and contented. When she was about a 
 month before her confinement, he got up one morning 
 earlier than usual, and told her he was about to retire to 
 his devotions ; he recommended her also to seek her closet,
 
 434 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and offer up prayers to God for a safe accomplishment of 
 their mutual hopes. She did so, but in a short time her 
 husband entered. He bore with him various articles such 
 as are used for the funerals of persons of rank. Her heart 
 misgave her ; she tremblingly asked him what he designed. 
 ' To murder thee,' he said. ' Now will I repay thee for all 
 thy wickedness ; now will I have vengeance for the agonies 
 thou hast made me endure.' In vain she implored pardon ; 
 in vain she entreated forgiveness for an offence which had 
 proceeded only from her love. He was inexorable, and 
 bid her prepare. Her maid, who slept in an adjoining 
 room, and overheard all that passed, rushed in and sought 
 to save her. As he lifted the dagger she endeavored to 
 arrest his hand ; but he struck her down, and stabbed his 
 wife to the heart. ' Die both,' he cried out, ' the jealous 
 wife and the eaves-dropping maid.' He lighted the tapers, 
 he darkened the room, he laid his wife upon her bed, and 
 went to her father and mother. ' Come,' said he, ' to a 
 little feast which I have prepared.' They went with him ; 
 he led them to the closet door, and, having shown them in, 
 left them and fled. They supposed at first it was some 
 pleasant device; but the expiring maid faintly informed 
 them of all, and died ere she had well concluded the dread- 
 ful narrative. My grand uncle is a Cardinal, great at St. 
 Peter's; my uncle is here. The murder was never re- 
 dressed. Can I be happy under the roof and eye of such 
 a man?" 
 
 I was horror-stricken ; but before I had time to say a 
 word the Abbot himself appeared in the distance; he 
 moved gravely towards us, and with his usual philosophic 
 calm. " Signer Montagu," said he, " I have marked your 
 intimacy with my nephew ; let me have the pleasure of the 
 company of both in my apartment." A cold thrill shot 
 through me ; but I knew not how to act. I looked on Juan. 
 He was as white as marble. Could it be that we were over-
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 435 
 
 heard ? It seemed impossible. We motioned assent, and 
 followed the Abbot, who led the way with sweeping robe. 
 In a few moments we were in his room. He ordered wine 
 and fruit ; the convent garden was famous for the latter. 
 They were soon produced, and we began to converse. But 
 a dark chain seemed thrown over my tongue. I could not 
 speak ; I could but listen. A similar spell was on Juan ; 
 but the Abbot shone. Never before had I seen him so ele- 
 gant ; never before had his lip charmed with so much wit, 
 politeness and gay elegance. He was no longer the grave, 
 austere head of a religious community; he was the fine 
 gentleman who had mixed in courts and camps. He spoke 
 of his uncle, the Cardinal, of his power at the Vatican ; his 
 liking for myself; and the fine wonders he would do for 
 me if I enrolled myself among his " sable soldiers," as he 
 called the monks. I was infatuated spell-bound. I for- 
 got Francesca ; I forgot every thing. I felt that this was 
 the master mind. I strove to resist, to defer eompliance, 
 but my mind grew relaxed ; I could feel its energy slowly 
 melt away as the Abbot's tongue poured forth its mani- 
 fold treasures. Was it the wine ? Had it been drugged 
 by one of those powerful soporifics known to the hierarchy ? 
 I had sense enough, however, not to pledge mj'self at once; 
 in three days I would give him a final answer. We parted ; 
 the Abbot kissed his nephew, and embraced myself. He 
 even attended us to the door, and softly bade us " Good 
 night ; God bless you both," said he. 
 
 When we were alone, Juan grasped my hand convul- 
 sively. " Fly," said he, " let us both fly at once. Our in- 
 terview has been overheard. My uncle knows every word 
 that we have spoken. This feast was but a trick to entrap 
 you. Once you have taken the irrevocable vow you be- 
 come his, body and soul ; he will have an absolute power 
 of life and death over you. My fate is sealed. I feel it ; I 
 know it. I have his Judas-kiss upon my lips, and I know
 
 436 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 that there is death in that kiss. He would at this moment 
 have ordered me to be immured for life, but that he dreads 
 to lose you. Oh ! Wortley, what a pang shot through me 
 this moment. Hold me, hold me. I faint. The wine has 
 overpowered me. I am a poor reveller." 
 
 We stole into the garden. By the fair starlight I looked 
 into his face; it was fixed and bloodless. There was a 
 strange wild expression about his eyes, such as I had never 
 seen before. The air revived him a little. We were quite 
 alone. He only of all the monks had a key to this place. 
 It had been given him as a special favor by the Abbot. 
 We walked about and concerted our plans. We crept softly 
 to our cells, and gathered up our sheets and the few clothes 
 we had; the first we twisted and tied together until they 
 formed a rope capable of being thrown up the high wall 
 which confined the monks within the convent territory. 
 We searched in vain for a hook to hold it at the top, but 
 none was to be found. At last we wrenched one of the 
 iron bars away from the window, and with great trouble 
 bent it into a half anchor shape. Some hours were passed 
 before this was done. It was now three o'clock, and at 
 four the convent bell usually rang to call the monks to 
 their devotions. Juan's excitement now grew dreadful ; he 
 seemed frightfully agitated; he trembled all over; his deadly 
 paleness increased. At times I could feel it was with diffi- 
 culty he repressed a scream, for he seemed intensely ago- 
 nized, but I supposed it was merely nervousness. At 
 length we got once more into the garden. We tried to 
 throw up the rope and hook, but wholly failed, although 
 we used incredible labor. At length I got up into a tree, 
 and with great difficulty flung the hook. It caught hold, 
 and the line descended to the ground. Juan urged me to 
 mount first. I refused, but he forced me. When I got to 
 the top he told me to pull hard, and endeavored to ascend ; 
 but was wholly unable. In vain he put forth his arms;
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 437 
 
 they would not hold him ; they were now too feeble to sup- 
 port his weight. Securely fastening the hook to the top 
 of the wall, I descended. I found him on the ground, 
 nearly fainting ; he could scarcely move ; he seemed to me 
 even to breathe with difficulty ; he whispered in my ear : 
 "Fly, fly, I am poisoned. Oh, fool! why did I trust him? 
 I should have known better." I tied the sheets securely 
 round him and again ascended, then putting forth all my 
 strength, I hauled him up to the top, but the exertion 
 nearly killed me. When I got him there I placed him for 
 a few minutes on the broad ledge ; the starlight gleamed 
 with a melancholy smile over his white features, on which 
 the death-agony was already written. "Fly," said he, "fly, 
 I say, or you will be discovered and then death; see the 
 sun is alreadj' in the East." I looked; it was so, but I 
 was determined not to leave him. I untied the sheets and 
 flung them on the other side of the wall, then securely 
 binding the hook to the parapet, I lifted the dying man 
 upon my back, and descended with him. We got down 
 safely. A little fountain murmured by. I bore him to it, 
 and bathed his face; the cold water seemed to revive him. 
 He opened his poor eyes their light was fading fast. I 
 burst into tears. I pressed, I folded him to my heart. 
 
 "Wortley," said he, "remember my dying words. Avoid 
 my uncle and his snares. Go to the East the sunlight 
 East. Seek Francesca, and if you find her, let her pray 
 for me. Pray thou also for thine unhappy friend. Now 
 leave me. God bless you bless you." And he fell back. 
 
 He was dead. I laid his limbs at full length beside that 
 holy stream. I offered up a brief prayer to God, and kiased 
 his lips already cold. My heart was full almost to bursting. 
 Here was my sole friend on earth except perhaps Manasam. 
 Well, mine has been a strange existence. Once again I 
 smoothed his limbs and looked upon his face. I closed 
 the eyes those eyes once so soft with love, and fervor, and 
 28
 
 438 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 enthusiasm. The early sunbeam had already come forth 
 from behind the mountains ; there was a sacred beauty in 
 this sylvan place ; the birds began to wake and warble ; all 
 nature seemed joyous, bustling, active; but in my heart 
 was death. My friend, alas ! was no more. With difficulty 
 I tore myself away. I was tossed in a tempest of conflict- 
 ing thoughts. Suddenly the convent bell rang out its 
 deathlike peal, and I fled into the mountains ; I found a 
 cavern, and rushed into its farthest depths. I flung my- 
 self on the ground and slept. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 I CONCEALED myself the whole of the day in the cavern, 
 and ruminated on my condition. What was now to be- 
 come of me ? I was alone in a foreign land, at the mercy 
 I had almost said of a ferocious priest, who from his ante- 
 cedent history would probably have no scruple in destroy- 
 ing me if he could. It behooved me to be exceedingly 
 cautious. Flight from his vicinity was indispensable, but 
 the method of accomplishing it did not seem so easy. 
 Already I pictured to myself in imagination the bands of 
 military emissaries who were pursuing me. If a leaf trem- 
 bled on a tree, I thought it was a soldier ; if a dog barked 
 I started and supposed it heralded the approach of my 
 captors. I was conscious indeed that I had committed no 
 crime, but I had now seen enough of life to know that in- 
 nocence is but a poor shield against the malevolence of 
 mankind. Thus the long hours passed, and I was without 
 food in this gloomy hiding-place, within a short distance 
 of the convent, and consequently every moment in danger. 
 At length night descended, and I stole forth. How calm
 
 BDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 439 
 
 and refreshing seemed the mountain-wafted breeze of 
 nature ! how much of glorious happy liberty did the open 
 landscape breathe into my soull For a few moments I 
 felt glad, but the recollection of my wretched condition 
 soon recurred to me, and I determined to lose no time in 
 entering on my flight. There was a clear azure light fall- 
 ing from the heaven, and I could see that the moon would 
 soon rise. I resolved therefore to get forward on my road 
 before this occurred. I proceeded hastily, often looking 
 back, but a& it seemed without any reason. I heard no 
 footstep, I perceived no signal of pursuit. The wood 
 through which I took my way was silent as the grave. I 
 began to walk with a stouter step, and a less anxious beat- 
 ing of the pulse. 
 
 I wandered thus for a week, concealing myself during 
 the open glare of day, and as the evening hour apjxjared 
 recommencing my journey. I subsisted on such wild fruits 
 as I could find, and on the chance charity of the muleteer 
 or peasant, who poorer than an Irishman is as stiff and 
 haughty as a prince. I picked up a flute which some trav- 
 eller had lost or thrown away, and often gained a supper 
 and a bed in return for my musical skill. Our English 
 airs, of which I knew a good many, were a perfect novelty 
 to these people, nor was the flute less so ; for Spain is the 
 land of guitars or castanets. I saw much to reconcile me 
 to human nature ; hospitality, kindness, good feeling, good 
 fellowship, even among the most humble; the grandees, 
 however, scorned me, and would give me nothing. But 
 Spain is a land of desolation. Every thing is arid, death- 
 like, melancholy. The towns and villages are rapidly de- 
 caying ; they seem to sink day by day into the dry and 
 greedy earth. The people, stately, silent and desponding, 
 appear to have resigned the mselves up to a proud despair 
 and stalk about with a ghostlike solemnity, which to an 
 Englishman is any thing but agreeable to see. For to our
 
 440 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 bustling eye of energy and toil this lounging laziness looka 
 criminal ; we immediately suspect an idle man of being no 
 better than he should be. All Spaniards are so in seeming 
 if not in reality. Every thing is at a stand-still ; you enter 
 a town and it is a dwelling, not of the living, but of the 
 dead. All the essence of life has gone out of them ; their 
 motions are mechanical ; there is no vitality in the people 
 or in the land. They are like their own mountains, silent, 
 lonely and unproductive; they are like their own vegas, 
 dark, solitary and barren. The only living things in Spain 
 are one or two of their rivers, which are rapid enough ; and 
 all their women, including duennas, who are as capricious 
 and as bright as their river waves. I had nearly forgotten 
 their goats, which are quite as frisky as their women. 
 
 On the ninth day of my flight I found myself in the 
 boundless forests of Almoramia. Here, at all events, I 
 was safe enough. What a place ! North, south, east, west, 
 wherever I looked it was all interminable woodland. Cork, 
 oak, and ilex trees reared their lofty branches ; the ash and 
 willow grew in thousands in the marshy parts. I began 
 to fear I should lose my way amid this world of wood. 
 The sun could scarcely penetrate its mighty depths ; the 
 widely spreading branches*of the cork trees and the gnarled 
 arms of the oak effectually excluded those scorching beams 
 under which I should have perished during the past week, 
 had I not hidden myself under rocks, and caves, and by 
 the deep and shadowy banks of the rivers. The Guada- 
 ranque flowed through this mighty wilderness, but it was 
 an unsafe guide. Nor was it always approachable. It 
 wound under a perfect covering of woodbine, clematis, and 
 other thickly foliaged creepers, and I have more than once 
 almost tumbled headlong into its breast from the deep 
 banks that girdled it in. The open glades that sometimes 
 gleamed like bright islands of verdure reminded me of dear 
 old England ; but I had other business on my hands at
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 441 
 
 present than that of sentimental recollection or poetic fancy, 
 and the sight of a wild boar has more than once put all 
 my most romantic reveries to flight. At night the wolves 
 howled horribly; but by this time I could climb a tree 
 almost as nimbly as a squirrel ; and when I was thoroughly 
 fatigued I usually selected the softest greenest bough of an 
 oak tree for my pillow ; and there ensconced, surrendered 
 myself to sleep, with only the stars, my guardian angel, 
 and Providence to watch over me no bad sentinels you 
 will probably say. 
 
 One night, just as I had got into my perch, I was aroused 
 by a sudden noise, and peering as well as I could into the 
 darkness from my leafy bedroom, I thought I could see a 
 number of figures mounted on mules riding rapidly towards 
 the very tree on which I was housed. A hundred thoughts 
 of a pursuing band of soldiers or alguazils crossed my mind, 
 and I gave myself up for lost, more particularly as they all 
 dismounted round the tree where I was hidden, and began 
 to laugh and talk with the unrestrained freedom of the 
 camp and guardroom. In a few moments my heart was 
 again at rest. These gentlemen were not government ban- 
 ditti they were only robbers on J,heir own account. They 
 had not the royal license to pillage and maltreat, which is 
 one of the cherished privileges of the alguazils of His Most 
 Catholic Majesty. They were merely a number of jovial 
 gentlemen who were associated for the same purpose, but 
 without the sign manual of the sovereign to justify them 
 if they were detected. They were in all about sixty, and 
 a terrible cutthroat crew they looked ; but I had more faith 
 in them somehow than I should have had, had there been 
 the same number of alguazils with law on their lips and 
 license in their hands to trample upon every law that 
 hedges round the rights and privileges of the people. They 
 soon kindled a fire, unpacked their wallets, and producing 
 sundry joints of cold roast kid, a multitude of cooked fowls,
 
 442 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and unending baskets of eggs, cheese, bacon, bread, and 
 garlic, and pigskins filled with wine, prepared a sumptuous 
 repast, for which I can assure you my mouth watered and 
 my stomach sadly yearned. The fact is I had lived upon 
 nothing but bread and water and a cigar for the last four 
 days of my pilgrimage, aud I was tired of such eremitical, 
 though heavenly food. 
 
 Now when they had feasted like Homer's heroes, and 
 were filled with food and wine, that jovial spirit which no 
 Spaniard can thoroughly hide, and no bandit with a full 
 belly is ever without, broke forth unrestrainedly among 
 these glorious minions of the moon. Clearing away their 
 plates and dishes, they drew themselves closer around the 
 fire; and as the night was somewhat chill, they largely 
 heaped upon it dry leaves and branches, and began to 
 smoke and drink like men who were resolved to be happy. 
 They stretched themselves at full length on coats and 
 capes, and junks of cork, and beneath the glorious green 
 oak trees formed a group that a painter would have loved 
 to see, or a poet to describe. The fire blazed brightly, 
 and its glitter-sparks ascended almost to the bough on 
 which I was hidden ; through an opening in the leafy arch 
 overhead, the living stars were seen shining in the blue 
 ether, and when the voices of the bandits were hushed, the 
 distant music of the rolling Guadaranque was softty heard. 
 If I could have been quite certain that I should remain un- 
 observed by prying eyes, I should have enjoyed the scene 
 almost as much as themselves ; but my trepidation was not 
 a little increased by my hunger, which now indeed began 
 sensibly to remind me, as it did Alexander the Great, that 
 I was a mere mortal after all. However, I bore up as well 
 as I could, and as I well knew the language, I was not a 
 little amused by their conversation. There were some wild 
 wags among them, and they seemed to enjoy some recent 
 adventure with more than boyish glee.
 
 EDWARD WOETLBY MONTAGU. 443 
 
 tt By the Holy Virgin of Toledo," said one, and he rever- 
 ently raised his hat, " never did I think such splendid fun 
 was to be got out of a rascal monk as we have had this 
 blessed afternoon. Will you hear it, my captain f n 
 
 The Captain and the rest willingly assented. 
 
 " We had not parted an hour, my captain," resumed the 
 bandit, " when we overtook one of those Capuchins who 
 eat up all the food of the poor, and give them only empty 
 words in return; so I said to my companion Julian Romea, 
 * here, let us have some fun with this fellow,' and faith, we 
 lost no time in doing so. So seizing him, we bid him stand 
 and deliver ; but the wretch had nothing no, not even a 
 maravedi, or if he had, he must have swallowed his treasure 
 for nothing with the holy name of the king could be 
 found in his capacious pouches. Well, this annoyed us 
 so we gagged him and bound his hands together, and hav- 
 ing also tethered his feet with a short rope, so that he 
 could only limp along not half so well as the Devil on 
 Two Sticks we tied him up in an old cow's skin which 
 we happened to have, and fastening the horns on to his 
 head, and a couple of sharp bells to these, we dismissed 
 him with our blessing, having just compelled him to give 
 us his benediction ; though I think it sounded marvellously 
 like a curse. Oh 1 what a figure he was ! We watched him 
 into the next village, crawling, hobbling, jumping, ringing 
 his bells, and altogether appearing like the devil himself, 
 with a long tail streaming behind him. All the cattle ran 
 away wild; the donkeys brayed with astonishment; the 
 dogs barked and made the most laughable disturbance; 
 the cows cocked up their tails and seemed ready to jump 
 over the moon; the geese gabbled; the cocks and hens 
 made a horrible noise ; and the ducks cried quack, quack, 
 while we ourselves were ready to burst. The people in the 
 village came out, but could make nothing of what they saw. 
 At last one bawled out * It is the devil,' whereupon they
 
 444 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 all scampered after their cows; and while the women 
 screamed, and the children roared, and the asses capered, 
 the friar himself managed to make a strange outcry through 
 his gagged mouth, which completed the scene, and still 
 more frightened the panic-stricken crowd. Romea laughed 
 so much that he fell down in the mud, and I had some 
 difficulty in getting him up. At last the priest of the vil- 
 lage came out with a gun in one hand, and a crucifix in 
 the other, and when he came near our friend, he took aim, 
 and would have probably shot not him, but a donke} 7 
 when the friar fell flat on his face, and the priest taking 
 courage, came up, and waving the crucifix over him, caught 
 hold of one of the horns, which soon revealed the mystery, 
 and when he had disgagged his man the whole story was 
 made clear. But it was too good an opportunity for the 
 priest to let pass, so he called the people forward and told 
 them he had worked a miracle by casting the devil out of 
 a holy friar, in proof of which he showed the cow's hide 
 and horns. Great was the amazement of the villagers, who 
 soon assembled in crowds, and our priest cut up the skin 
 into small shreds, which he sold to the b3^standers as a 
 charm against all the imps of hell ; but the horns he re- 
 moved into the chapel, and there suspended them over the 
 high altar, in honor of the mighty deed which he had done, 
 and he and the friar divided the spoil ; and we heard him 
 telling the people he had been met on the road by several 
 devils, one of whom had transformed him into a monster ; 
 and then he muttered blessings on the priest for having 
 accomplished one of the greatest miracles on record. But 
 I and Romea, having enjoyed the scene, immediately be- 
 took ourselves on the journey which 3^011, my captain, 
 ordered us to make, and here are the results thereof." 
 
 Whereupon he produced a massive silver goblet, at which 
 the eyes of all glistened with delight ; and the captain, with
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 445 
 
 the air of a connoisseur, pronounced it to be a matchless 
 specimen. 
 
 Then our friend Romea, rising, sang a ballad of the Cid 
 in a fine, manly voice, which resounded through the forest, 
 and woke up the distant echoes ; and fresh logs were piled 
 upon the fire, and the pig-skins were again handed round, 
 and all was mirth and jollity. 
 
 In the midst of these revels one of the bandits was ob- 
 served to sigh deeply. 
 
 "How now, brother?" said one, "why are you melan- 
 choly in the midst of this good cheer ?" 
 
 "I was thinking of the Holy Virgin of Toledo," an- 
 swered the bandit, demurely. 
 
 "A miracle! a miracle!" shouted a third ; "what! is 
 Joaquim becoming religious ?" 
 
 "Aye, faith, that will be a miracle," added a fourth, " for 
 I know no man apter in Despoiling a fat monk, or rifling a 
 convent cellar." 
 
 " Or kissing a young novice," put in a fifth. 
 
 " Or pulling the ears of the bishop's pretty housekeeper," 
 said a sixth. 
 
 In a word, every one had something to remark upon this 
 new conversion. 
 
 Joaquim remained silent until all had had their say; ho 
 then spoke with great gravity. 
 
 " By my beard, my brothers, I am, in truth, grown re- 
 ligious ever since I was in the old Cathedral of Toledo, and 
 saw the Holy Virgin decked on last Anunciation day, and 
 I would willingly make the heavenly lady my own if I had 
 the chance to do so, and not envy the Lord Archbishop 
 for the rest of my life ; for her head was covered with a 
 golden crest set so thick with diamonds, emeralds and 
 pearls, that there was not room to insert one stone, were it 
 but the bigness of a needle's eye; and on her neck sho
 
 446 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 wore a necklace such as no king or queen of old Castile 
 has ever worn ; but her petticoat " 
 
 " Ah ! I thought you'd come to that," says a sly fellow 
 with a wink. 
 
 "Her petticoat was all adorned," pursued Joaquim, "with 
 flowers and pearls, among which were some as big as an 
 egg, and these were mixed up with black pearls of so rare 
 a lustre that each was worth its weight in gold a thousand 
 times ; and stars and suns, and other matchless devices, all 
 worked with the finest jewels, covered over this sacred petti- 
 coat so thickly that, if I could, I would have sold my soul 
 to Satan to possess this blessed virgin of my heart. And 
 now I sigh from the bottom of my bowels whenever I think 
 of the matchless Mother of Toledo, and I pray to all the 
 saints that she were mine." 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo !" cried half a dozen ; " so much for 
 Joaquim's conversion ;" and they drank his health around. 
 
 "Gentlemen," s&ys the Captain, "I have news for you 
 that will stir your blood, and bring forth every man's metal. 
 Two hundred of the king's soldiers are on our track." 
 
 There was a melancholy pause. Even these dare-devils 
 were not particularly anxious to come to close quarters 
 with well-disciplined soldiers. The Captain waited, but 
 no man spoke. 
 
 " How now, gentlemen ?" said he ; " surely we are not 
 afraid. We have beaten them before, and shall beat them 
 again like brave men. But let us take courage. They 
 received their orders at Madrid ; so we have the start of 
 them by several hundred miles, and if we don't like close 
 quarters we can easily beat a retreat." 
 
 "Two hundred is a large number," said one. 
 
 " The odds are disproportionate," murmured another. 
 
 " I don't see what we should gain by fighting," remarked 
 a third. 
 
 "Faith, I'd rather sack a convent," sighed forth Joaquim.
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 447 
 
 This sally produced a general laugh. It seemed conceded 
 by all that the better part of valor was discretion, and I 
 could see, that though bold, they were not desperate fools. 
 
 "How now, gentlemen braves," said the Captain; "what 
 is to be done?" 
 
 "Why pack up all our winnings, and retreat into Gra- 
 nada," said Julian Romea; "there w nothing to be gained 
 by fighting, and I have always thought that it is the part 
 of brave men to wait until they are attacked." 
 
 This proposal met with general approbation; the Captain 
 himself applauded it, and it was passed unanimously. 
 
 "And now, gentlemen," said he, "let us go to sleep. In 
 the morning, as soon as the day dawns, we shall commence 
 our retreat. God assists him who rises early. We have 
 several days start of the soldiers, and they must be nimble- 
 footed fellows if they can overtake us, with our light bag- 
 gage and our merry hearts." 
 
 Thus saying, they prepared for repose. This was an 
 easy matter. They spread their valises and saddles under 
 their heads; each man stretched himself at length with his 
 feet turned towards the fires, after having well looked to 
 his arms, primed and loaded his pistols, and seen that they 
 were ready placed at hand, but sheltered nevertheless from 
 the night dew. Julian Romea was chosen as sentinel, and 
 the whole company were fast asleep in five minutes. Julian 
 heaped a new pile of logs on the fire, and sat down by it. 
 But in a little time also he began to nod. I suppose that 
 secret pilgrimage on which he had gone with his companion 
 after their little pleasantry with the friar had taxed his 
 energies to the utmost; for Julian certainly exhibited all 
 the signs of deep fatigue. He wrestled hard, however, 
 with the enemy, and strove to drive off every attack of 
 slumber, but the foe proved too strong for him; and in a 
 little while he was as sound as his companions. He soon
 
 448 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 passed from a sitting to a recumbent posture, and gave 
 audible tokens that he also was in the Land of Dreams. 
 
 I now thought within myself what I had better do. Should 
 I remain in my covert until morning, I should probably 
 be seen and made quick work of treated as a spy, and 
 shot, or stabbed without ceremony ; or should I endeavor 
 to retreat while this lucky spell of sleep was over Julian ? 
 There was immense hazard either way. I had no doubt 
 that discovery at any time would be death, and there 
 seemed but faint hope of my being able to steal away from 
 sixty men, any one of whom, the dropping of a leaf or 
 broken branch, the cry of a wolf, or of an owl, might sud- 
 denly wake up while I was yet within their grasp. So far, 
 I blessed my star that I had escaped unnoticed ; but was 
 it wise wholly to rely on their non-observance of me ? The 
 eyes of sixty prying men, keenly suspicious to all appear- 
 ances, and made more keen still in consequence of the in- 
 formation which they had just received from their Captain, 
 would be soon about the place where I was hiding, and it 
 seemed impossible I should escape. On the other hand, 
 cool reason said, "You have escaped so far why tempt 
 your fate by a wild endeavor to break away from this cir- 
 cle? It is hopeless for you to suppose that you can elude 
 them if you leave your present hiding-place. In the hurry 
 and bustle of their quick departure, in saddling their mules 
 and preparing their baggage, they will have quite enough 
 to occupy their minds, without peering up into the skies 
 in search of wandering Englishmen, who are eccentric 
 enough to make their bedchamber in the boughs. At all 
 events if you are to be caught, it is better to be caught in 
 the morning, when they may probably only make you their 
 prisoner, and carry you off with them into the mountains ; 
 whereas if you are now discovered you will be infallibly 
 butchered before you can have time to explain your posi- 
 tion and your motives; for sleepy men, when suddenly
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 449 
 
 aroused, are about the poorest reasoners you can argue 
 with. Lie still, therefore go to sleep and put your trust 
 in Providence." 
 
 This on the whole seemed wisest, and I prepared to do 
 so. Sleep I could not, though I strove hard enough. An 
 hour thus passed, and the whole band were buried in pro- 
 found repose. Suddenly I heard a scritch-owl cry; some- 
 thing struck me as peculiar in it ; my gypsy education had 
 made me well acquainted with the tones of birds, and there 
 seemed to me to be a dash of the unnatural about this such 
 as I had never heard before. "It is a peculiarity in the 
 bird," I thought, and I again endeavored to full asleep. 
 In a little while I heard it again, and the unusual note 
 jarred upon my ear. To my surprise it was answered from 
 an adjacent tree, and in the answer there was the same 
 peculiarity of tone. "It is some new species," I muttered, 
 and I looked forth to see them. All was darkness. The 
 cry was now repeated for a third time, and answered in 
 the same way; the bandits still slept on, and two men de- 
 scended almost at the same instant from a couple of adja- 
 cent cork trees. They must have stolen into them while 
 these gentlemen were amusing themselves over their wine, 
 and they certainly had done so unobserved by me. I knew 
 at once that they were soldiers, and probably they belonged 
 to the King's guard. After a rapid survey they disap- 
 peared together into the woods. 
 
 This incident gave me courage. If these men can thus 
 effect their purpose, I said, why should not I ? They have 
 shown me that it was possible; I were a fool if I did not 
 imitate them. I crept noiselessly down, and was already 
 within a few feet of the ground, when a branch on which I 
 was supported broke, and 1 fell on the earth, but lightly. 
 No one stirred, and I was congratulating myself that all 
 was right, when the captain suddenly opened his black 
 yes and fixed them full upon me; but had I remained still,
 
 450 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 I should probably have escaped unobserved, and the bandit 
 would have supposed he was dreaming. But seeing him 
 intently looking at the place on which I stood, and sur- 
 mising that I was seen, I put my hand to my lips to indi- 
 cate silence, and said, "Hold," in tones sufficiently loud 
 for him to hear, but not audible enough to wake the others. 
 The captain was a brave man; he sprang up, but made no 
 signal. He came towards me with his carbine. He saw 
 that I was unarmed and did not attempt to fly. He laid 
 his hand upon me, and led me away from the group. When 
 we had got to some distance he looked at me sternly. Even 
 in that midnight hour I could see the fixed fire in his eye, 
 and I could feel the full determination that was in his voice. 
 His grasp was like a vice; but I trembled not in the least; 
 and this coolness saved me. 
 
 "What mean you ?" he said. "What brings you here ?" 
 
 "Release me," I answered, "I am an Englishman. Your 
 life is in my hands." 
 
 "My life," he replied, scornfully. "Fool, it is your life 
 that is in mine. With one word from me your moments 
 are numbered. Speak instantly. Tell me who you are, 
 and what brings you to this place." 
 
 I recounted briefly as much of my story as was requisite 
 for him to know. I then came to that part which related 
 to himself and the welfare of his companions. 
 
 "You were misled when you supposed that the soldiers 
 were far off. They are at this moment in the neighborhood. 
 I have seen two of their spies; they are probably now sur- 
 rounding you in their toils. You must fly instantly, or 
 you are undone." 
 
 "Is this true?" he said, slowly, and he was lost in medi- 
 tation. He roused himself, "Aye! why should it not? It 
 tallies with my dream; meanwhile stay here until I return, 
 nor attempt to escape; if you do, a bullet shall stop you." 
 
 I pledged my word that I would remain. The captain
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 451 
 
 went and roused his companions. A hurried conversation 
 took place. In five minutes they were preparing for flight; 
 their mules were saddled, and themselves ready. Julian 
 was already a prisoner for sleeping on his post; and I un- 
 derstood he would be tried, and probably shot, unless ex- 
 tenuating circumstances appeared. The men formed into 
 rank, and rode rapidly away in a direction indicated by 
 the captain. The latter remained with me. He was armed 
 to the teeth. 
 
 "Senor Englishman," he said, "I am about to test you. 
 Let us climb into the tree where you were concealed, and 
 wait for the soldiers. If they appear you have saved my 
 life, and my soul is yours; if not" and he stopped. 
 
 "What then?" I asked. 
 
 "You shall die by my hand," he answered, "for this lie." 
 
 He said this with a coolness that convinced me he meant 
 exactly what he said. 
 
 I could of course offer no remonstrance. To do so would 
 have aroused his suspicion, and probably led instantly to 
 the consummation which he threatened. I pointed out 
 the tree in silence; he motioned me to ascend, and I did 
 so. He followed and took his place beside me. An hour 
 passed, and all was still. Another hour, and still no sig- 
 nal of surprise. The dawn began faintly to break over the 
 horizon; we could see the light penetrate the branches, and 
 the earliest birds began to waken. Suddenly we heard foot- 
 steps tramp, tramp, tramp tramp they came. It was the 
 approach of soldiers; we heard the sound from the four 
 quarters of the world at the same moment. All converged 
 towards the point in which we were concealed. The robber 
 drew closer to me. 
 
 "You have spoken English truth," he whispered; "they 
 are here." 
 
 They were. Three hundred soldiers we counted. They 
 carried a piece of artillery with them also. They had evi-
 
 452 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 dently calculated on hemming in the foe while he was 
 asleep, and destroying him at their leisure, if resistance 
 were offered. They encircled the place which had been so 
 recently the robbers' bivouac; but the foe was gone. Their 
 rage no language can describe. The robber laughed within 
 himself. They^econnoitered in all directions, and seemed 
 utterly confused. After an hour they followed in the track 
 of the bandits, but with a tardy motion that offered no 
 likelihood of a successful pursuit. 
 
 " Senor Englishman," said the captain, " yon have saved 
 us all. Come with me." I obeyed mechanically, and we 
 descended from the tree. In a hidden corner, admirably 
 concealed, we found two swift Andalusian horses, of true 
 Arab blood ; mounting one, he motioned me to ascend the 
 other. I did so. 
 
 "Now," said he, " ride as if for life." 
 
 We did so, and in about two hours came up with the 
 rest of the bandits. By- a route only known to themselves, 
 they had effectually baffled the soldiers, and were now 
 pleasantly encamped on the mountains that look over 
 Ronda. We had ridden nearly six-and-twenty miles in 
 that short space, and our horses required respite, though 
 they could have carried us much farther. The mules had 
 accomplished their work leisurely enough, and were now 
 browsing upon what herbage they could find. 
 
 A meeting was rapidly summoned. The captain ex- 
 plained to the rest under what circumstances I had be- 
 come his companion, and numerous and warm were the 
 greetings which I received. Every one pledged himself 
 to expose his life in my defence ; the Southern vivacity 
 broke forth in every word and gesture, and I was amazed 
 to find so many stately Spaniards full of life and motion. 
 One brow only was overcast. This was Julian Romea, 
 who was still in custody, and with his hands bound. I 
 took courage to intercede for him.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 453 
 
 " Gentlemen," I said, " there is one man here who is un- 
 happy. I can myself testify to his care and vigilance; 
 but in truth he was overpowered by fatigue, and while ha 
 slept I vowed to keep watch in his place. You have seen 
 that I did so, and was no idle substitute. For my sake let 
 him be pardoned." 
 
 The request could not well be refused. It was received 
 with unanimous approval, and the captain gave orders for 
 his release. Julian came and thanked me with a noble air, 
 and though he did not use man}' words, I could see that he 
 felt the full value of my interference on his behalf. 
 
 We rested here all day, and at night passed through 
 Honda. The country through which we rode was grandly 
 picturesque the very land indeed for robbers. Vast moun- 
 tains flung their awful shadows over our path; terrific 
 precipices opened wide their jaws before and around us ; 
 woods of oak and cork trees now enveloped us in shade ; 
 anon we were in some steep and rocky pass, which seemed 
 as if about to topple down on our devoted heads; in another 
 moment we were buried in some deep ravine, thickly over- 
 grown with trees and climbing plants, which made our 
 journey tedious and laborious. Journeying onwards at 
 night and resting in the daytime, without any adventures 
 worth recording, we at length approached Granada, re- 
 posing at the foot of the Sierra Nevada, in whose safe 
 recesses we sought shelter from pursuit. Here the golden 
 Darro, and the silver bright Genii blend their waters, and 
 all seems fabled land. We encamped in a ravine, difficult 
 of approach, even to those who knew it all their lives, and 
 bade defiance to the royal troops, which we thought would 
 never venture within the terrible defiles and passes of these 
 famous mountains. We reckoned without our host. 
 
 29
 
 454 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 I WAS soon flung into a new order of existence. A fort- 
 night ago I was a lone recluse in a convent, immersed in 
 studies theological or philosophical ; now soaring aloft into 
 the golden empyrean with the dreaming Plato, or bathing 
 my soul in those fountains of light and beauty, the magic 
 dramas of Calderon ; now penetrating the deep ocean of 
 metaphysics with Aristotle and Spinosa, or poring into the 
 mystic secrets with which Dante has impregnated his grand 
 poetic trilogy of Hell, purgatory, and Paradise ; now dis- 
 porting like a summer bird amid the perfumed gardens of 
 Theocritus and Moschus, or the flower-bright haunts of 
 Tasso and Ariosto ; now clothing my soul with the spirit- 
 ual mail of Origen that fine philosophic speculatist of the 
 early ages, so little known, so splendidly worthy of being 
 known ; and now walking in Pai'adise with the majestic 
 thinkers of our own land Bacon and Raleigh, and Hooker 
 and Barrow, who seem, like the son of Peleus, to have been 
 fed from their youth upwards upon the marrow of lions. 
 From this glorious converse I was suddenly snatched like 
 Orpheus from the presence of his bright Eurydice to 
 what ? to be the associate, the friend, the saviour of a 
 gang of thieves, every one of whom was stained with un- 
 mentionable crime, and whose career would probably close 
 with the bullet or the garotte, I could scarcely follow the 
 sequence of events by which I, the only son of one of the 
 most powerful families in England, was thus made the 
 sport of chance; but I had a happy indifference to all 
 things from the beginning, and I could make myself com- 
 fortable with a crust when all other dainties failed. 
 
 I took an early opportunity of informing our captain, 
 whose name I found was Bermudez, that however flattered 
 I might be by his evident desire that I should link my for-
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 455 
 
 tunes with his band, and become a robber, I had neverthe- 
 less no inclination whatever for the pursuit, and I asked 
 permission to depart. Bermudez listened to me with evi- 
 dent reluctance. 
 
 "My friend," he said, "leave me not. Thou hast ren- 
 dered us a service, such as no man ever rendered to us 
 before. What is there that thou ma}'est not command 
 among us? My life it is thine. The lives of all our 
 band they are thine also. Tarry therefore until in some 
 way we have given recompense for that which we never 
 can repay, but which we shall certainly acknowledge in the 
 best way we can." 
 
 I have always been the most pliable of mankind in mat- 
 ters that are of no consequence. My Lady Mary was 
 accustomed to tell all her friends that I was a weak and 
 drivelling booby. Perhaps she was right, for I have never 
 cared much to battle about trifles, and as this was really 
 one, I did not resist my friend's entreaties. What mat- 
 tered it to me where or how I lived ? whether in a palace 
 or a robber's cave ? Both were equally respectable in my 
 eyes. Had I not had experience of the first and of its com- 
 ponent parts, I possibly might have doubted, and sacrificed 
 comfort to ambition. Had I not intimately known the 
 whole secret history of St. James's Palace ? Had I not seen 
 with my own eyes that all the fine gentlemen were knaves, 
 and all the fine ladies were jades ? Had I not witnessed 
 that Walpole himself was only a Captain Bermudez on a 
 grander scale ; and that our noble senators were only so 
 many robbers, who grew fat upon the spoils pillaged from 
 the people, and divided by the minister among his ablest 
 thieves and counsellors of mischief? 
 
 It would therefore have been the meanest humbug 
 (yes ! that is the proper word) for me to talk to Captain 
 Bermudez, in the style of Captain Grand, or to aflect a 
 wondrous squeamishness as to his life and pursuits which
 
 456 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 I own I did not feel. I had seen the Beggar's Opera, and 
 known and felt its wisdom. I had fully appreciated the 
 characters of Captain Macheath and Lockitt; and recog- 
 nized their likeness to actual living men whom they tj^pified. 
 That work has been called a burlesque but it is the most 
 actual truth ever written ; except, of course, the gospel his- 
 tories of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Oh! how I 
 laugh when I hear ignorant fools call it a libel, and inter- 
 ested writers designate it a caricature. Ah! Messieurs 
 Fools, ye do but play the game of your masters when ye 
 so prate ; ah ! Messieurs Writers, ye do but serve your own 
 well-beloved interests when ye persuade the fools your 
 dupes and drudges that Johnny Gay was an impudent 
 satirist, who ought to have had his ears cropped, like poor 
 Defoe. Ah! this is right and proper as the world wags. 
 I have no doubt that this veritable history will meet the 
 same fate, and that when all the fools cry out against its 
 bitterness, &c., &c., as false, shallow, and productive of 
 evil, &c., the glorious company of knaves who belong to 
 the guild of critics will cry Amen! and lifting up their 
 hands and eyes to Heaven, will cry out, " Oh, what wise 
 men these fools are!" So be it; I shall then be a skeleton 
 in my grave, and shall not much care for censure and ap- 
 plause ; and whether my book lives or dies, will be equally 
 a matter of indifference to me. As some man in former 
 days said, Liberavi animam meant ; I have given outlet 
 to the feelings of my soul, and having done this I am con- 
 tent to die and be forgotten. 
 
 Nevertheless, I was determined not to be a robber, and 
 so I plainly informed Bermudez. 
 
 "Captain Bermudez," I said, "let there be no mistake as 
 to our footing let us perfectly understand each other. I 
 am now willing to depart. I have business in Spain which 
 occupies the dearest thoughts of my soul. I have acciden- 
 tally fallen in with your gentlemen, and I have accidentally
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 457 
 
 rendered them a slight service. You are good enough to 
 overrate that service, but I assure you I regard it only as 
 a trifle." Here Captain Bermudez took off his sombrero 
 and made me a low bow, which I returned as in duty 
 bound for form and ceremony are every thing in Spain. 
 " I repeat, Captain, it was a trifle, and it is not worth think- 
 ing of. Of yourself and your companions I say nothing. 
 I believe you are all brave men." Here the Captain again 
 bowed with great solemnity, and I was obliged to go through 
 the humbug of returning it, which greatly disgusted my 
 John Bull-ism. "But I am an English gentleman, and I 
 cannot become a Spanish Caballero." (I used this phrase 
 as the least offensive cutthroat would have been the true 
 word; but expediency ! oh, expediency ! how necessary thou 
 art in this rascally world !) "If you are willing to let me 
 go, I shall be glad; if not I shall remain with you, but only 
 as a visitor. I will have nothing to do with easing monks 
 or merchants of their superfluities. Is this our compact?" 
 
 Captain Bermudez seized me by the hand. 
 
 "Senor," said he, "nothing was ever farther from my 
 thoughts than that you should be involved with us. I do 
 not ask it. I never supposed it. I have solicited your 
 stay with us only as our honored guest. If you will abide 
 with us in that capacity, do so, so long as you like. If 
 not, go ; you are free. But I own I shall be disappointed 
 if you leave me." 
 
 Reader! do not condemn me. I felt the sympathy of a 
 brother vagabond, with this vagabond, and so I stayed. I 
 thank Heaven that I did so. 
 
 Granada, the Moorish city; the enchanted Alhambra! 
 who has not heard of them ? who has not seen ? who has 
 not described ? It will not do for me to enter on this beaten 
 track. Yet will I briefly note their principal features ; for 
 here occurred the crowning incident of my life. Never do
 
 458 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 I think of thee, splendid jewel of the Snowy Mountains, 
 that I weep not from a full heart. 
 
 Granada is built upon three hills; the first contains the 
 Yermillion Towers; the second, the sacred Alhambra; the 
 third, the Albaycin, which is separated from the rest by a 
 pass blooming with flowers and shrubs of rarest beauty; 
 the pomegranate, the rose-bay, the cactus, the coloquintida, 
 the pistachio. The silver Darro flows beneath, rapid as 
 lightning, and many a lovely garden blooms upon its banks. 
 It is a scene of magic. Spain has nothing like it, perhaps 
 the world if we except Damascus. There is one view of 
 the last named Paradise, where I have often sat for hours. 
 It is called, I think, the Seat of Mohammed. That mighty 
 Conqueror and true Apostle of God rested there for a mo- 
 ment, and exclaimed, "This is the Paradise of earth!" 
 And truly said he so. Yet in our own glorious land I 
 have seen a scene almost as lovely and sublime. I mean 
 the Wyndclifl'e. The distant Eden of Damascus surprised 
 me not, but made me drunken with a sense of loveliness. 
 The Wyndclifl'e gave me an idea of the sublime and won- 
 derful such as I never felt before. Go and see it, and then 
 seek Damascus if you will. But condemn me not if thou 
 disagreest with me; for I also have seen many things, and 
 God knows I have no reason to be prejudiced. 
 
 O ! Granada, Granada ! never shall I forget thee. When 
 my last hour comes, and my spirit is preparing for that 
 awful and mysterious flight into the Dark or Bright Un- 
 known, still shalt thou be in my thoughts, the next after 
 God, Eternity and Judgment. For thou hast become a 
 portion of my soul ; and if an earthquake were to swallow 
 thee up to-morrow, then should I know that my hour was 
 come, and I should resign myself to death and oblivion. 
 Thou art a part of my inmost being. There is no Moorish 
 arch within thy walls, there is no flowing fountain, there is 
 no weeping cypress, there is no fallen Mosque that reminds
 
 EDWARD WOETLBY MONTAQU. 459 
 
 me not of her who is my spirit's twin, and who now lies 
 sepulchred within thy hallowed bounds. I think of thy 
 mighty mountain, peopled with a million fair traditions ; 
 and see even now the setting sun upon its silver summits. 
 The rose-light glitters on my aged eyes ; the opal-like irra- 
 diations gleam from many a cleft and shining peak ; there 
 is the deep azure of the blue sea and the beaming bright- 
 ness of a silvery ocean mingled into one divine picture, 
 and on the highest point appears, like a diadem of light, 
 the blessed spirit of my lost Francesca ; glorious in para- 
 dise-lustre, and opening wide her arms to enfold her 
 wanderer. 
 
 My interview with Captain Bermudez took place when 
 we arrived in the Sierra Nevada. I had lost no time in 
 opening my mind to him. I had assented to his terms, 
 and was now free to walk about as I pleased. Until this 
 moment I had to some extent been watched ; but now all 
 was liberty and trust. On the following morning I strolled 
 into the Albaycin; You may imagine my surprise when I 
 found myself again among my old people. The place was 
 full of gypsies. I was utterly amazed. Here was a com- 
 munity, nay, a very kingdom of the Galore. I could scarcely 
 rely on my eyes at first, but in a few minutes I knew that 
 it was so. Nothing could equal the surprise, the joy, the 
 wild madness of these people when I addressed them in the 
 Zingari language when I came to them as a brother, and 
 claimed kindred. I was immediately brought, as it were, 
 in triumphal procession before their reigning Duke. He 
 was an old man with a long and flowing beard ; but his 
 eye was still bright, and his brow was unruffled. I spoke 
 to him in the secret dialect which has a charm for the 
 gypsy such as no words can describe. I was the first 
 Englishman he had ever seen but an Englishman and a 
 Calore were two combinations that he had scarcely ever 
 expected to behold. Could they have fed me upon gold
 
 460 EDWARD WOETLET MONTAGU. 
 
 and pearls, they would have done so. Young and old 
 crowded around me with an enthusiastic wildness; the 
 men looked at me with admiration ; the women, old and 
 young, kissed my hands with a kind of fanaticism. 
 
 I passed the night in their caves, and mingled in their 
 wild gambols. I was happy, for I was surrounded by 
 happy hearts and smiling faces. The Duke treated me 
 with distinguished politeness. A courtier of Louis the 
 Fourteenth could not have been more refined or fastidious 
 in true courtesy. Goblets of gold and silver which had 
 been buried in the earth for years ; rare porcelain, which 
 had been hidden in baskets almost for generations, were 
 produced to grace their festal banquet ; jewels that were 
 as old as Cleopatra were worn, and rings of massive gold 
 that were coeval with the past Pharaohs. Flasks of wine 
 also were opened that had been buried in the days of 
 Columbus, and amulets of rare value, on which were graven 
 words that could make the Moon diverge from her heavenly 
 course, were worn round the necks of the aged gypsies. In 
 a word, it was a scene never to be forgotten, nor have I 
 forgotten it. Thus it was till daylight. Even then they 
 could not part with me ; and I passed the rest of the day 
 in the Duke's cavern. In the evening the same scene was 
 renewed. The vesper star arose and shed her seraph light 
 upon the scene. The younger gypsies, crowned with 
 flowers, danced and sang; the older ones recounted legends, 
 and the young men chaunted the glorious soul-inspiring 
 ballads of the land. All was beautiful, wild, and full of 
 the spirit of romance. Many a sweet smile was cast upon 
 me from dark eyes, that flashed the soul in light ; many an 
 encouraging look was shed like sunbeams over me; the 
 blooming virgins came as near me as they well could, and 
 touched me with robe and foot, and wondered why I did 
 not reciprocate their professed love.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 461 
 
 " Ours is a happy life, Senor," said the Duke ; " do you 
 pass it equally well in England ?" 
 
 I informed him of our employments and our sports, as I 
 had had experience of both. He was anxious to know all 
 that I could tell him of our island customs. He had a 
 vague notion of them, but many of his ideas were wild in 
 the extreme. 
 
 "And have you not a Gypsy Queen ?" he asked. "Fin! 
 Fin." And he seemed trying to say the word. 
 
 " Margaret Finch," I answered, and I described the old 
 czarina of Norwood. Then I told him of Akiba, and his 
 chequered life, and of the magic days of King Zandahlo. 
 They listened and clapped their hands with wonder and 
 delight. They were the same wild impressible race I had 
 known in my own country. Indians in all their traits and 
 habits Indians to the back-bone the Aborigines who 
 founded Egypt and raised the statue of the black Memnon, 
 children of the mighty, when we poor Saxons were painted 
 savages, and when at the bidding of the glorious hierarchs 
 of Boodh and Brahm (when those great creeds were one) 
 they reared Stonehenge and Ambersbury, and piled on high 
 the astounding tolmen that even now strike wonder into 
 our so-called engineers. ->.;i 
 
 "This also," said an old gypsy, "is an enchanted place. 
 Wherever we look we see traces of the Magi and their art, 
 and find memorials of our own people. It was they not 
 the Moors who built the Alhambra; but the Spaniards 
 are all liars, and the Moorish writers are not much better." 
 
 I smiled at this ; but where is the good of dispelling a 
 grand dream ? I have no doubt the old man and his 
 people believed it, and I left them in their faith. It is 
 commonly said that the Gitanos have no traditions, but 
 this is nonsense. There is no tribe without traditions ; 
 and these wild wanderers have thousands of them. They 
 are all, it is true, discordant with each other, but what of
 
 462 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 that ? Consult the historians of all people, and see what a 
 sad chaos they fall into when they treat of the origin of 
 nations and peoples. Why should our people be wiser 
 than Livy or Geoffrey of Monmouth ? Why expect more 
 from them than from William of Malmesbury or the Edda 
 of Soemund ? Nay, is not Hume himself a farago of non- 
 sense and lies ? 
 
 They led me into the Alhambra, the palace of their sires. 
 The moon now shone in all her glory over the scene, tint- 
 ing every line with silver; burnishing every leafy tree and 
 mouldering battlement with her soft radiant colors. We 
 went into the palace of Charles the Fifth, which that gloomy 
 conqueror hoped would survive the splendor of the Moor- 
 ish princes, but vainly ; for the modern building is little 
 better than a ruin already, while the fairy-like arches of the 
 Moor seem destined to defy time itself. I was disap- 
 pointed in the size of the place. Like most persons who 
 have read or heard of it, my imagination had run loose, 
 and I pictured to mj'self something grand, extended and 
 Titanesque. But it is not so. Every thing may be said 
 to be on a small scale ; but then, how beautiful are the pro- 
 portions ! Probably this very symmetry makes things 
 look smaller than they are ; as in St. Peter's, a saint, six 
 feet high, appears no bigger than a little boy. We lingered 
 in the Court of Lions; we lounged through the long 
 arcades, and marked the light and shadow in this holy 
 silent hour, and listened to the plaintive music of the foun- 
 tains that sparkle with a kind of spiritual airy brilliancy 
 in the descending moonbeams. We lingered in the Hall 
 of the Two Sisters, and from the Golden Saloon looked on 
 the dimly lighted city at our feet, and the dark valley of 
 the winding Darro. 
 
 All who are acquainted with the Spanish annals know 
 of the terrible decree which was issued at this period by 
 the Holy Office of the Inquisition. The gitanos had now
 
 EDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 463 
 
 grown into so vast a population, that the attention of the 
 ruling powers of Satanas had been particularly called 
 to them. They were to be counted by thousands all 
 throughout Spain, and Granada was their head-quarters. 
 Here they were in immense numbers. All the efforts of 
 the Priests to convert them to the Church of Rome had 
 failed ; all the legislative measures of the Cortes had been 
 unable to extirpate them from the land. True to the tra- 
 ditions of their eastern blood, it was found impossible to 
 work any change upon them. Neither time, nor climate, 
 nor example operated in the least. As the sun of Africa 
 made them no blacker, so the temperature of Europe made 
 them no whiter ; so also was it with their minds and cus- 
 toms. All the other great conquering nations had absorbed 
 into themselves the inferior tribes whom they had subdued, 
 or had been absorbed by them when the vanquished were 
 really the superiors. The Persians became Greeks; the 
 Romans also yielded to their subjects, and had adopted the 
 tones and habits of the Hellenians; the Franks became 
 Gauls ; the Normans absorbed the Saxon tribes ; and the 
 Cymri, who were a superior race, absorbed the Mantchous, 
 who were their masters in battle. But the gypsies were 
 still unchanged. They neither amalgamated with the people 
 with whom they lived, nor would they become identified 
 with them in any one particular. They were a nation apart 
 and alone. 
 
 Some of the more zealous priests had taken occasion to 
 get hold of many of the younger gypsies, almost in their 
 infancy, and to breed them up in the Papal faith ; but when 
 they reached the age of puberty the gypsy blood broke 
 forth; every thing that had been instilled into them was 
 forgotten or despised, and they fled to the camp of their 
 tribe; wild as Arabs, untamable as hyenas. What, then, 
 was to be done with these Bohemians, Heathens, Tartars, 
 Charami, Pharaoites, and Gitanos for by all these titles
 
 464 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 the} r were known? The Church was sorely puzzled; but 
 the Church is subtle there is no difficulty which they can- 
 not solve, or which they do not strive to solve. They 
 deserve credit intellectually, but what do they deserve 
 morally? Let time declare ; I won't. They met in secret 
 solemn conclave, and passed a law that all the young gyp- 
 sies should be forcibly removed from the contagion of their 
 parents' example, brought within the pale of the Church 
 and saved whether they would or not. For this purpose 
 they invoked the aid of the civil power; and the three 
 hundred soldiers of the king's guard who left Madrid were 
 part and parcel of this contrivance, though Captain Bermu- 
 dez had heard otherwise. 
 
 One night, about a week after our arrival at Granada, I 
 strolled with the captain into the gypsy locality. As usual, 
 they were delighted to see me, and they received my com- 
 panion with the warmest cordiality. We gathered about a 
 large fire, and song and anecdote went round with light 
 hilarity. Bermudez told us of Rodrigo Diaz de Bevar, sur- 
 named the Cid, the mighty hero of the land ; how when 
 his father was smitten by the Count of Gormaz in the very 
 presence of the king, and he called his sons together for 
 vengeance, all of them were craven cowards, except the 
 youngest, who vowed that he would revenge in blood the 
 insult offered to his ancient house. Wherefore took he the 
 rusty sword of the bold bastard Madurra, which he found 
 in his father's armory, and went forth in search of the 
 fierce Count. And when he saw the Count he challenged 
 him to deadly combat ; but the Count despised his youth, 
 and called him page, and threatened him with the whip. 
 Whereupon the bold Rodrigo rushed upon him with his 
 drawn sword, and a dreadful fight ensued ; and he cut off 
 the Count's^ head, and carried it to his father, who was 
 overjoyed at his son's bravery, and placed him before all 
 his other sons at the head of his table in token of superi-
 
 \ 
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU, 4G5 
 
 ority. Then Ximerra, the daughter of Count Gormaz, once 
 and twice, and thrice, and twenty times, besought the king 
 to wreak vengeance upon the young man ; but King Ferdi- 
 nand consented not, for he feared his people, who were all . 
 enamoured with the youthful knight and his bold exploit ; 
 and it were as much as his crown were worth to offer 
 violence to that chivalric head. And Ximerra, in the lapse 
 of days, herself softened towards Rodrigo ; and, as he had 
 made her an orphan, besought the king that he would com- 
 mand him to protect her ; whereupon she became his wife, 
 and he loved her as his own soul unto his dying day. And 
 after these things the Cid went forth and fought the Moors 
 at Estremadura, and won to his own share two hundred 
 horses, and a hundred thousand golden marks ; but none 
 of these did he retain, but gave them all among his men. 
 And when the haughty Emperor of Germany proclaimed 
 war against the Sovereign of Castile, because he alone of 
 the kings in Christendom refused to give him tribute, then 
 did my Cid go forth, and with eight thousand men he 
 crushed the army of the Emperor on the plains of France. 
 Nor did he cease to harass him until he begged the Pope 
 to interfere, and save him from all further molestation. 
 And after these things my Cid was banished ; but still he 
 fought against the Moors, and having won two might} r for- 
 tresses, he sent the spoil to King Alfonso, who now sat 
 upon the proud Castilian throne ; and many other mighty 
 achievements did my Cid perform until the king restored 
 him to his favor, and the court was once again brightened 
 by his presence. Then did my Cid again wend out and 
 vanquish many Moorish armies, until the whole earth rang 
 with his renown; and no knight whatever could be found 
 to charge against him in mortal combat ; and the haughty 
 Persian Soldan sent him an ambassador in token of his 
 great deeds ; whereupon my Cid said unto him " Welcome 
 thou unto my city of Valencia; were thy master a Chris-
 
 466 EDWARD WOBTLBT MONTAGU. 
 
 tian with great joy would I go to his land and visit him." 
 And the Paynim prince returned home, marvelling much 
 at the wealth and power and glorious valor of my lord the 
 Cid. And when my Cid was dying Saint Peter himself 
 appeared before him, and welcomed him to paradise, and 
 my Cid was pleased ; and because the Pagan Moors then 
 besieged Yalencia, he ordered his corpse to be set on horse- 
 back, and to charge the enemy with his old and conquering 
 banner, the which indeed was done ; and when the Pay- 
 nims saw the stately form of the dead Cid, as his horse was 
 led into the vanguard of the fight, behold they were stricken 
 dead aghast, and fled in pale terror. Then was the sainted 
 body of my Cid buried in the Chapel of San Pedro de Car- 
 dina, and many a miracle was wrought before his tomb. 
 
 All this Bermudez told us in recitative ; and there was a 
 strange charm in the wild strain, which produced a mar- 
 vellous effect on his listeners. We were in the midst of 
 these amusements, when all the watch-dogs set up a fierce 
 and simultaneous barking. Some of the gj'psies went out 
 to see what was the matter, and returned with fear and 
 trembling. As a body, the gypsies are sad cowards ; and 
 they will endure almost any thing with impunity. But 
 when they are urged on to combat by others, then indeed 
 they fight like so many devils. It happened now, however, 
 that they were wholly panic-stricken. The scouts who had 
 gone forth reported that we were surrounded by at least a 
 thousand men, consisting of soldiers of the royal guard, 
 and officials of the Holy Inquisition. And soon the 
 women's screams informed us that the horrid work of 
 spoliation had commenced. From every cave and corner 
 resounded wild and melancholy shrieks. The grief and 
 fury of the Gitanos knew no bounds. They raved like 
 mad things ; but the soldiers and familiars of the Inquisi- 
 tion executed their office without stay or compunction. 
 All the children were gathered together, hastily aroused
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 467 
 
 from their sleep, and naked as they were born, and were 
 driven like so many goats into one place. In vain their 
 mothers besought these hardened wretches to let them have 
 a last kiss or embrace of these lost ones. Every request 
 of that nature was sternly refused ; and the gypsy mothers 
 were in despair. When every tent and cave was thoroughly 
 despoiled of all the j r oung Gitanos of either sex, and under 
 ten years old, some of the soldiers and familiars advanced 
 towards us. I need not say that both Bermudez and my- 
 self had done all we could to animate the Zingari to defend 
 their children; but a torpor of terror seemed to have thor- 
 oughly cowed them ; and they remained inactive, drooping, 
 and afraid, setting up only fierce and angry cries which 
 had no effect upon the spoilers, except to increase their 
 passions into fury, and to induce them to maltreat the 
 poor creatures whom they had so rudely seized. Bermu- 
 dez, seeing them coming, stood firm ; nor did he blench in 
 the least. A person in command addressed him. 
 
 "And you, Sir Gypsy, how dare you kick against tho 
 king's edict? Were I not disposed to mercy, I should 
 shoot you like a wolf." 
 
 "As you please, Sir Soldier," replied Bermudez, "but I 
 only did what was my duty to protest against this hellish 
 act." 
 
 "And who the devil may you be," asked the other, "that 
 you dare address me in this language?" 
 
 " That matters not," answered Bermudez, turning away ; 
 "you shall perhaps know at some other time." 
 
 One of the familiars now came forward, and looked care- 
 fully at the captain. After scrutinizing him some moments, 
 he turned and whispered to the officer in command. The 
 latter started, and cried out: 
 
 " Ah 1 sayst thou so indeed ? This must be looked to. 
 Soldiers, seize this man." And in a moment Bermudez 
 was seized and bound.
 
 468 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " I am told," said his captor, " that you are the notorious 
 bandit, Bermudez." 
 
 " Whosoever I am," replied the other, " I am not likety, 
 after this insult, to give you any information." 
 
 " Lead him away," said the officer, " bind his hands and 
 legs, and take care that he escapes not. Let him have a 
 guard of six soldiers, and I swear, by Heaven, that if he 
 eludes them they shall be shot." And it was done as he 
 commanded. He then turned to me. 
 
 " And who may you be, young sir ?" he questioned. 
 
 " You have no right to ask me," I replied. " I am an 
 Englishman travelling in this country for my own pleasure." 
 
 " And what brings you, Senor Englishman, among thieves 
 and g}rpsies ?" 
 
 " That, Captain, is my own affair not yours." 
 
 "Let me see your passport," said he. 
 
 I told him that I had none. 
 
 " It seems to me," he said, " that it will be my duty to 
 apprehend you." 
 
 One of the familiars again came forward ; he was the 
 same fellow who had already pointed out Bermudez, and 
 he seemed to know every thing. He held a paper in his 
 hand; he looked at it and me attentivel3 r , comparing my 
 personal appearance with what was there written. He then 
 spoke apart to the officer, and showed him the paper. After 
 some whispering the familiar came forward. 
 
 " Is your name Montagu ?" he said. 
 
 I was so suddenly questioned that without thinking I 
 answered 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then," said he, " you will come with us." 
 
 I was obliged to go. The following chapter will explain 
 why.
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 469 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 No. I. 
 
 IN the Royal Palace of the Inquisition of Seville, on the 
 10th day of August, 1734, present, the Inquisitor Dr. Do- 
 mingo Abbad Y Huerta, officiating alone in his morning 
 audience, having examined the information received against 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, native of London in England, 
 ordered that the above-named person be arrested and con- 
 fined in the secret prison of this Palace of the Inquisition 
 for the purpose of accomplishing fully the ends of justice, 
 and that his trial be instituted in form, for which end let 
 the necessary steps be taken. 
 
 Before me, 
 
 MATTHEO MAGRE, 
 
 Secretary. 
 To FRANCISCO COLL, COMMISSARY, 
 
 1. On the receipt of this you will proceed to take pris- 
 oner on the part of this Holy Office, Edward Wortley 
 Montagu, a native of London. He is a tall, long-faced 
 person, with a commanding brow, pale, with a dark but 
 slight beard, piercing eyes, and good presence ; he speaks 
 Spanish well, and is supposed to be wandering through the 
 country parts of this province in a disguise; having secured 
 him and divested him of every kind of offensive weapon, 
 you will despatch him under good attendance to this Holy 
 Office by the hands of Familiars, in such a manner that he 
 cannot escape ; taking measures in all the places" through 
 which he may pass to let it be known he is apprehended 
 by this Inquisition. 
 
 2. Also, if occasion should offer, you will seize so much 
 of his property as shall be sufficient for his maintenance, 
 which you will transmit by those who have him in custody. 
 
 3. The prisoner being taken, you will inspect his person 
 
 30
 
 470 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 and his lodgings, in order to secure a book about the size 
 of the hand, in which it is confidently believed there are 
 certain prayers and superstitious matters. This book you 
 will despatch to us. 
 
 4. Also all papers and instruments found upon him, as 
 well as those which may be found in his baggage, are to be 
 seized. Care should be taken that he may have no time to 
 conceal any thing. 
 
 5. You will then transport him to this city, which he will 
 enter at dusk, just before the gates are shut. You will 
 enter at the Gate of St. James's, and present the accom- 
 panying passport of the Governor to the officer of the 
 Guard. God preserve you. 
 
 6. This letter is to be returned with a statement of all 
 that may have been done agreeably to the above orders. 
 With respect to which we trust in the guidance of our 
 Lord. 
 
 By order of this Holy Office, 
 
 DOCTOR DOMINGO ABBAD Y HUERTA, 
 MATTHEO MAGRE, Secretary. 
 
 No. II. 
 
 In the Royal Palace of this Inquisition of Seville, on tht> 
 10th day of September, 1734, in the morning, the Inquisi- 
 tor, Doctor Domingo Abbad Y Huerta, being at his morn- 
 ing audience, appeared according to summons, Padre Juan 
 Baptista Lopez and Padre Augustin de Vinaros, and swore 
 fairly to declare the truth. And first, Padre Francisco 
 Liges, Chief Abbot. 
 
 Questioned. If he knew or conjectured the cause of his 
 being summoned to appear ? 
 
 Answered. That he neither knew nor conjectured. 
 
 Questioned. If he knew or had heard that any person 
 had spoken or done any thing which was or appeared con- 
 trary to our Holy Catholic Faith and evangelical doctrine
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 471 
 
 preached and taught by the Holy Catholic Roman Church, 
 or against the just and free exercise of the Holy Office ? 
 
 Answered. That about eight months since, or there- 
 abouts, the deponent being moved by charity, did take in 
 and receive .into the Monastery of Mercy, at Biscay, one 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, in the hope of baptizing him 
 into the holy bosom of the sacred Catholic Church, the said 
 E. W. M. then and there professing an ardent desire to 
 know the true doctrines of the Faith. And the deponent 
 from that time until the fraudulent flight of the said E. W. 
 M., did teach him all the said truths and doctrines as well 
 as he could. And the deponent verily believed that the 
 said E. W. M. was then a sincere and worthy believer in 
 the truths and doctrines. But on the eve of St. Epimachus 
 last, the deponent happening by chance to enter the cell 
 of E. W. M., found him seated at a table with some bacon 
 before him, but when or how procured the deponent doth 
 not know. And the deponent then and there informed the 
 said E. W. M. that it was now the eve of a most holy fes- 
 tival, and that it was positively forbidden by the church 
 that any such food or any flesh meat whatever should be 
 eaten. The said E. W. M. answered that he meant to eat 
 notwithstanding, and the deponent asked him whether he 
 had a license so to do, or any infirmity ; to which the said 
 E. W. M. answered, mockingly, " I have a license from 
 myself, and a sad infirmity called appetite;" and thereupon 
 proceeded to eat the said meat. This is the truth accord- 
 ing to the oath of the witness, and being read in his pres- 
 ence, is declared by him to be correctly recorded, and was 
 thereupon signed with his name in his own hand. The 
 deponent further states that he does not make this declara- 
 tion out of malice ; and secrecy being enjoined upon him 
 he promised to observe it. 
 
 And second, Padre Antonio Mira being questioned, <tc., 
 Answered. That he supposed it to be for the purpose of
 
 472 EDWARD WOBTLBT MONTAGU. 
 
 ascertaining whether a certain Edward Wortley Montagu 
 had done ought which was or appeared to be contrary to 
 our Holy Catholic Faith, and evangelical doctrine, concern- 
 ing which this deponent testified that about four months 
 since, being in the cell of the said E. W. M., this deponent 
 heard him say that he was as great as God, and that he 
 had a book, which, being put into the fire along with a 
 crucifix, would remain unhurt, while the crucifix would be 
 consumed, which words being uttered with much earnest- 
 ness by him, the deponent was greatly shocked and fright- 
 ened, and advised him to abstain from such speeches, as 
 they were scandalous ; and should the} 7 come to the knowl- 
 edge of the Inquisition, would bring punishment upon him. 
 But the said E. W. M. repeated his assertions several 
 times ; but at length desisted, and appeared somewhat 
 alarmed at the rebukes which this deponent gave him, and 
 turned pale. The book was a small book, about the size 
 of the hand, but thick, and was read by the said E. W. M. 
 in great secrecy, as if he were at prayer. The above is the 
 truth, according to the oath of the deponent ; and being 
 read in his presence, is declared by him to be correctly re- 
 corded, and signed with his OAVH hand. He further states, 
 that he does not make this declaration out of malice, and 
 promises to observe secrecy. 
 
 And third, Padre Juan Baptista Lopez, being ques- 
 tioned, &c., 
 
 Answered. That he supposed it to be for the purpose of 
 ascertaining the truth respecting the life and conduct of a 
 certain Edward Wortley Montagu, concerning which this 
 deponent testifies that during the whole period of his so- 
 journ in the Monastery of Mercy, the said E. W. M., though 
 often requested, did not once confess himself; but on being 
 rebuked, and advised to confess, he broke out into blas- 
 phemies against God and his Saints, with such violence, 
 that he appeared more like a demoniac than any thing else.
 
 EDWARD WORT/LET MONTAGU. 473 
 
 It being suggested to him that God did not prosper him, 
 because he did not attend mass, or wear a rosary, nor hear 
 sermons, nor confess, but swore,- and blasphemed ; and that 
 if the Holy Inquisition knew of it, he would be apprehended, 
 he replied that the Devil must help him ; that he did not 
 care for the Inquisition, and would not confess, and that 
 God gave him nothing which the Devil would not give. 
 The deponent had asked him why he did not confess, ob- 
 serving that to kneel at the feet of a confessor and relate 
 his sins was to relate them to God; and the said E. W. M. 
 replied that this was all babble, and he believed just as he 
 pleased. Some one asking him if he was not afraid of 
 dying, he replied that if he knew there was a tavern in the 
 other world he should wish to die immediately. He de- 
 clared it was nonsense to relate one's sins to a confessor, 
 and that a man should tell of nothing but what he pleased. 
 At one time he went to bed after tiring himself with swear- 
 ing, and told the convent next day that a woman, a monkey, 
 and a young man then in the house, had appeared to him 
 in bed, scratched his face all over, and thrown him down 
 stairs. The deponent believed that this had been done by 
 the Devil, from his mentioning him so often. 
 
 The deponent further declared that on making a full 
 confession last month of all his sins, and his own negli- 
 gence in denouncing the said E. W. M., he was directed to 
 give information of the whole to this Holy Office, and was 
 refused absolution unless he complied, and that there were 
 many more things to be told, which he could not recollect, 
 as they happened long since. 
 
 The above is the truth according to tlie oath of the de- 
 ponent, and is stated by him, not out of malice, but solely 
 to discharge his conscience. It was read to him, and he 
 declared it to be faithfully recorded, and signed it with his 
 proper name.
 
 474 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 And fourth, Padre Augustin de Vinaros being ques- 
 tioned, &c. 
 
 Answered. That he supposed it was for the purpose of 
 giving information to the Holy Office respecting a certain 
 E. W. M. On the evening of the last day in May, this 
 person, being in company of the deponent, declared in con- 
 versation with the deponent, that he possessed the faculty 
 of discovering the thief when a thing was stolen. This he 
 had performed in the following manner. The deponent a 
 long while ago had lost a certain rosary, and suspected 
 four or five persons of the theft. E. W. M. said he would 
 discover the thief. He then wrote the names of all the 
 persons suspected, upon separate pieces of paper, and 
 threw them into the fire. Those which contained the 
 names of the innocent were consumed, but that containing 
 the name of the one against whom this deponent had the 
 strongest suspicion remained. Nobody was able to take 
 this out of the fire except E. W. M. The paper was kept 
 from consuming by the power of the words Christo Senor 
 Nuestro, uttered by him; and it was drawn out from 
 among the coals by the help of this expression: 1, Ego Sum; 
 2, Factus est homo; 3, Consummatum est. Besides this, 
 he said, he knew another way of practising his divination ; 
 and this was, to collect the ashes made by the papers, and 
 rub them on the back of his hand, where they would leave 
 marked the name of the thief. This deponent thereupon 
 rebuked the said E. W. M., who replied that what he had 
 said and done he would say and do even before the Inqui- 
 sition. Proceeding in conversation with the deponent, he 
 told him that lie had some instruments in his pockets which 
 were useful for many things. He then drew from his right 
 pocket a paper folded up, and containing two or three coils 
 of something which the deponent did not see distinctly on 
 account of the darkness, but felt and handled them. The 
 deponent asked the said E. W. M. where he had obtained
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 475 
 
 the above knowledge. He replied that he had got it by 
 studying a book of Magic which he possessed ; that he had 
 learned from this the secret of making himself invisible, 
 and also to render a man invulnerable to thrusts with a 
 sword. The said E. W. M. came to the cell of this depo- 
 nent next day, and after some conversation gave him a slip 
 of parchment almost a finger's breadth wide, and above a 
 span long; this was slit through the middle lengthwise, 
 and had written on it the following words : Ego -f sum. 
 JEcce + homo -f Consummatum est +. This was rolled 
 up in lead with a small piece of bone, and the said E. W. 
 M. told the deponent to wear it in the shape of a cross 
 next to his skin, near the heart, and it would shield him 
 effectually from all thrusts with a sword. It was exhibited 
 by the deponent. 
 
 The said E. W. M. also gave this deponent another slip 
 of parchment of half a finger in breadth and two yards 
 long. At one extremity was drawn with ink a leg and 
 foot, and at the other a heart with a cross above it. Other 
 figures and letters were drawn in different parts. With 
 this he proceeded to take divers measurements upon the 
 body of the deponent, as from one shoulder to the other, 
 from the shoulder to the chin and nose, &c. This he in- 
 formed him would secure him from being wounded, if he 
 used it in the following manner. He was to rub it with 
 the wax which dropped from the tapers during the celebra- 
 tion of mass. This was to be done on nine several days 
 during mass, keeping it under his cloak, and taking care 
 that no one saw him. Afterwards it was to be worn in 
 the shape of a cross next the skin near the heart. He gave 
 him at the same time three bits of parchment, each about 
 three fingers' breadth long, and one wide. Two of these 
 contained each two lines of writing, and the other three. 
 These were severally numbered on the back 1, 2, 3. To 
 these was added another very small, also written over. He
 
 476 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 informed him that by the help of these he could perform 
 any kind of divination; and that if he wore the thinnest 
 of these parchments upon his left little finger under a white 
 stone set in a ring, he would be directed by it in the fol- 
 lowing manner. Whenever the stone turned red, he might 
 play at any game which was going on, except dice or quil- 
 fes, and be sure to gain ; but if the stone turned black, he 
 would lose by playing. Before any such use, however, was 
 made of the parchments, he was directed to put them in 
 the shoe of his left foot near the ankle, and to sprinkle them 
 with the water used by the priest at mass. These parch- 
 ments were also exhibited. The deponent requested the 
 said E. W. M. to show him the Book of Magic, but he de- 
 clined, alleging that the deponent could not read or under- 
 stand it. 
 
 This deponent further says, that in consequence of these 
 statements of the prisoner, the deponent one day assembled 
 certain monks in his cell, among whom was the person 
 whom this deponent violently suspected of having stolen 
 the rosary aforesaid. The prisoner then said that each 
 one present must put his finger into a cup of water, and 
 that the water would blacken the finger of the thief; and 
 he showed them a cup containing a quantity of clear water. 
 They all agreed to the proposal, and the room was shut up, 
 so as to exclude every ray of light. When the doors were 
 again opened, they found every man's finger black but that 
 of one. The prisoner perceiving this, and observing the 
 agitation which he manifested, exclaimed to him, " You 
 are the thief," and the said person in his fright confessed 
 the robbery. And the deponent believes that this was in- 
 deed done by the power of Satan, and no other. 
 
 Questioned. If he knew or had heard that the said E. W. 
 M. had any temporary insanity, or was given to wine ? 
 
 Answered. That he knew not. He averred that the whole 
 of the declaration was the truth, and not uttered by him
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 477 
 
 from malice or ill-feeling, but solely in obedience to his 
 conscience and oath. Secrecy was promised by him, and 
 he added his signature. 
 
 No. III. 
 
 FIRST AUDIENCE. 
 
 In the Royal Palace of the Inquisition of Seville, on the 
 10th day of October, 1734, Doctor Domingo Abbad Y 
 Huerta being at his morning audience, ordered the pris- 
 oner to be brought from his cell, who, being produced, was 
 sworn to declare the truth on the present as well as on all 
 other occasions till the decision of his trial. He was also 
 sworn to observe secrecy with respect to every thing which 
 he might see, hear or learn, and every thing which should 
 befal him. 
 
 Questioned. What was his name, age, occupation, birth- 
 place, residence, and the period of his arrestation by the 
 Holy Office. 
 
 Answered. That his name was Edward Wortley Mon- 
 tagu, aged twenty -two ; of no occupation ; native of Lon- 
 don, in England ; and that he was arrested six weeks ago 
 by the Commissaries of the Holy Office in the ravine of 
 Los Molinos. 
 
 Questioned. Who was his father, grandfather, paternal 
 and maternal, and wife? Who were his uncles, brothers 
 and children? What were their occupations, birthplaces 
 and residences ? [Here follows an account in answer to 
 these questions, which I suppress.] 
 
 Questioned. What was the origin and descent of his 
 ancestors and collateral relatives, and whether any one of 
 them had been punished, or put under penance by the Holy 
 Office of the Inquisition ? [The answers to these questions 
 follow here, but are not material, wherefore I suppress them.] 
 
 Questioned. If he could read or write, or had studied 
 much, and in what science or faculty ?
 
 478 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Answered. That he could read and write, but had not 
 studied much in any particular science. 
 
 Questioned. If he had any dealings with persons of 
 equivocal faith ? 
 
 Answered. That he had lived for some time among the 
 Gitanos. 
 
 Questioned. What were the events of his life? [The 
 answers to this the reader may surmise, wherefore I sup- 
 press them as superfluous.] 
 
 Questioned. If he knew or conjectured the cause of his 
 imprisonment ? 
 
 Answered. That he knew not, nor could conjecture, un- 
 less it was for this, that he had fled from the Monastery 
 of Mercy, at Biscay. 
 
 The prisoner was then informed that in this Holy Office 
 it was not customary to imprison any person without suffi- 
 cient information ; that he had committed or had been seen 
 to have committed some act which was, or appeared to be, 
 contrary to our Holy Catholic Faith and Evangelical doc- 
 trine, which is taught and professed by our Holy Mother 
 Roman Catholic Church, or against the proper and free 
 jurisdiction of the Holy Office; for which reason he was 
 to understand that it was in consequence of some such in- 
 formation that he had been apprehended, and on this 
 account he was exhorted on the part of God our Lord, and 
 his glorious and blessed Mother the Virgin Mary, to be- 
 think himself well and confess the whole truth. Where- 
 upon he was remanded to prison. 
 
 No. IV. 
 SECOND AUDIENCE. 
 
 In the Royal Palace of the Inquisition of Seville, on the 
 10th da} r of November, 1734. Doctor Domingo Abbad Y 
 Huerta and Dr. Bernardo Luis Cotoner being at their 
 morning audience, ordered the prisoner to be brought
 
 EDWAKD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 479 
 
 from his cell, which being done, and the prisoner present, 
 he was 
 
 Questioned. If he remembered any thing relating to his 
 affairs which he was bound to state, according to his con- 
 science ? 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. 
 
 The prisoner was then informed that he had been already 
 in a former audience exhorted in the name of our Lord and 
 his glorious and blessed Mother the Virgin Mary, to be- 
 think himself well and unburthen his conscience by declar- 
 ing the whole truth respecting all which he had done, said, 
 seen or heard, offensive against God, or contrary in reality 
 or appearance to His Holy Catholic Faith, and Evangeli- 
 cal Doctrine, taught and professed by the Holy Mother 
 Roman Catholic Church, or against the proper and free 
 jurisdiction of the Holy Office, without testifying any thing 
 false. By following this direction he would have his trial 
 despatched with all possible brevity and mercy; but if 
 not, justice should be executed upon him. 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. He was 
 then admonished, and remanded to prison. 
 
 No. V. 
 THIRD AUDIENCE. 
 
 In the Royal Palace of the Inquisition at Seville, on the 
 10th day of December, 1734. The Inquisitors, Dr. Domingo 
 Abbad Y Huerta, Dr. Bernardo Luis Cotoner, and Joseph 
 do Otero Y Corsio, being at their morning audience, ordered 
 the prisoner to be brought from his cell, which being done, 
 and the prisoner present, he was 
 
 Questioned. If he remembered any thing relating to his 
 affair, which he was bound by his conscience to declare? 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. 
 
 The prisoner was then notified that the Promoter Fiscal
 
 480 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 of this Holy Office had an accusation to bring against him, 
 before which he would do well to declare the whole truth, 
 as he had already been admonished, in which case he would 
 more fully experience the mercy which the Holy Office 
 extends to those who confess freely ; otherwise the Fiscal 
 would attend and proceed to the accusation; and justice 
 be executed. 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. 
 
 Straightway appeared Dr. Francisco Gregorio, Promoter 
 Fiscal of this Holy Office, and presented the accusation, 
 signed by himself, against the said E. W. M., making oath 
 that it was not done out of malice ; which accusation was 
 as follows : 
 
 ACCUSATION. 
 
 I, Dr. Francisco Gregorio, Fiscal of this Holy Office, 
 appear before your Excellencies, and accuse criminally 
 Edward Wortley Montagu, a native of London, in England, 
 resident in this principality, attached to the secret prison 
 of the Inquisition, and now present, stating that the said 
 person, being a baptized and confirmed Christian, and 
 enjoying the graces and benefits which such persons do 
 and ought to enjoy, not having the fear of God before 
 his eyes, but regardless of his own conscience and 
 the justice administered by your Excellencies, has com- 
 mitted offences against our Holy Faith, by saying and 
 performing things which savor of the heretic Luther, and 
 by uttering superstitious and blasphemous speeches, and 
 compacting with the Devil, and by blaspheming and deny- 
 ing God our Lord, seeking favor and help from devils, and 
 by professing and practising various necromantical arts 
 with insult to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, its sacred 
 ceremonies, and the Holy Cross, and doing other things in 
 the manner following: 
 
 1. The said prisoner, being in a certain Monastery in
 
 EDWARD WORTLBT MONTAGU. 481 
 
 the province of Biscay, did procure a dish of bacon, and 
 being reminded to take heed, for it was a fast and such 
 food was forbidden, did nevertheless proceed to eat the 
 same, and mocked and derided the person who had so 
 warned him. 
 
 2. Furthermore, the said prisoner being of a nation 
 infected with heresy, it is presumed that he has on many 
 other occasions eaten flesh on forbidden days, after the 
 manner of the sect of Luther, and committed many other 
 offences against our Holy Faith, besides knowing that 
 others have committed the same offences ; and the said 
 prisoner having been admonished by your Excellencies to 
 declare the truth, has not done it, but has perjured him- 
 self. 
 
 3. The said prisoner likewise declared that he possessed 
 a Book, which, if it were thrown into a fire along with a 
 crucifix, would remain unhurt, while the crucifix would be 
 consumed. 
 
 4. From the above, it is to be presumed that the said 
 prisoner has uttered many other superstitious and blas- 
 phemous speeches, and done many other things appertain- 
 ing to the Devil ; also, that he is cognizant of the commis- 
 sion by others of many such crimes, the whole of which he 
 has maliciously concealed. 
 
 5. The said prisoner, while he resided in the Monastery 
 aforesaid, could not be persuaded to confess, although he 
 received many admonitions to that effect, but remained 
 careless of the salvation of his soul. And the said pris- 
 oner being rebuked therefor, blasphemed God and the 
 Saints with such fury and malice that he appeared like a 
 demoniac. Being threatened with a punishment from the 
 Inquisition, he replied that he did not care for the Inquisi- 
 tion, and that he would not confess ; also, that he wanted 
 nothing from God which the Devil could not give him. 
 
 6. He says that he does not fear God, and that if he
 
 482 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 knew there was a tavern in the other world, he should not 
 care if he died. 
 
 7. He said that a man ought not to tell his sins to the 
 confessor, and that it was nonsense for a man to tell any 
 thing but what he pleased. 
 
 8. Furthermore, it is to be supposed that the prisoner 
 has committed many other such offences against our holy 
 Catholic Faith, and uttered other blasphemies and heretical 
 speeches, as well as known that other persons have done 
 the same, all which he conceals like a bad Christian. 
 
 9. The said prisoner, on a time specified, declared that 
 he was able, when any thing was stolen, to discover the 
 thief, and, in proof of this assertion, wrote the names of 
 certain other persons suspected of theft on papers, and, 
 putting the papers into the fire, repeated the words : Ego 
 sum ; Factus est homo ; Consummatum est. The papers 
 were consumed, except that bearing the name of the thief. 
 No one but the said prisoner could take this paper out of 
 the fire. 
 
 10. Furthermore, he asserted that he could execute the 
 above purpose by rubbing the ashes of the papers upon his 
 hand, where it would leave impressed the name of the thief. 
 
 11. Continuing the conversation, he declared that he 
 possessed certain instruments of use in various ways, and 
 in fact showed something folded up, which he took out of 
 his pocket ; and, on being asked whence he obtained the 
 knowledge of these arts, he replied that he learned them 
 from a Book of Magic in his possession, which enabled him 
 to do whatever he pleased. I request that he may be ques- 
 tioned with respect to this Book of Magic, as well as the 
 contents of the above-mentioned envelope. 
 
 12. He told this person that he could learn from the 
 same book to make himself invisible, as well as invulner- 
 able to the thrust of a sword; and used various other
 
 BDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 488 
 
 damnable speeches and devices, which I am prepared to 
 prove. 
 
 13. He furthermore, by the help of a certain damnable 
 device with water, and the assistance of Satan, discovered 
 a theft which had been some time previously committed in 
 the said Monastery. 
 
 14. For which reasons I request and supplicate your 
 Excellencies to admit my charges as proved, or such a por- 
 tion of the same as shall suffice for the ends of justice, in a 
 definitive sentence, or whatever measure may be taken, and 
 to declare my accusation fully proved ; and the said E. W. 
 M. guilty of the above-named abominable offences; con- 
 demning him to the heaviest punishments by law thereto 
 affixed, and executing them upon his person and goods; 
 by turning him over to the secular arm of justice as a pun 
 ishment to himself and a terror to others. And I request 
 that if necessary he may be put to the torture, and that 
 the same be continued and repeated till he confess the 
 whole truth of himself and others. 
 
 15. And I formally swear, that I do not present this ac- 
 cusation out of malice; but solely to accomplish the ends 
 of justice, which I request at the hands of your Excellen- 
 cies. 
 
 MATTHEO MAORB, 
 
 Secretary. 
 
 The accusation having been presented and read, the said 
 E. W. M. was formally sworn to declare the truth in an- 
 swer to every interrogation relating thereto. The accusa- 
 tion being read over, article by article, he answered as 
 follows : 
 
 1. To the first article, he confessed that it was true that 
 he had eaten the bacon, but he had a license from the Abbot 
 to do so, he being an Englishman and a visitor in the Mon- 
 astery of Biscay ; and being excused by him from conform-
 
 484 EDWARD WOETLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 ing to the rules and customs of the said Monastery, so far 
 as relates to food. 
 
 2. To the second article, he said that being an English- 
 man, he had alwaj's eaten meat in his own country when- 
 ever he pleased, as he lawfully might do. 
 
 3. To the third article, he said that it was wholly false 
 and untrue. 
 
 4. To the fourth article, he said that it was untrue. 
 
 5. To the fifth article, he said that he did not confess, 
 being an Englishman and Protestant, and that he was en- 
 tertained in the same Monastery with full knowledge of his 
 country and religion. The remaining portion of this article 
 he declared to be wholly false and untrue. 
 
 6. To the sixth article, he said it was false. 
 
 7. To the seventh article, he said it was false. 
 
 8. To the eighth article, he said it was false. 
 
 9. To the ninth article, he said it was wholly false and 
 untrue. He confessed that he had said he knew a g} 7 psy 
 who pretended to have this power, but he never professed 
 it himself. 
 
 10. To the tenth article, he gave the same answer. 
 
 11. To the eleventh article, he said it was wholly 
 false. 
 
 12. To the twelfth article, he said that part of it was 
 false and part of it was true. The true part of it was this. 
 A certain monk in the Monastery had lost a rosary, and 
 violently suspected another monk of the theft. The pris- 
 oner, at his request, desired him to ask the suspected per- 
 son, together with four or five others, into his cell on a 
 certain day. He did so, and the object of the meeting was 
 then explained. The prisoner produced the water and de- 
 clared it would blacken the finger of the thief. He then 
 darkened the room, and introduced a quantity of ink into 
 the water, for the purpose of discovering the said theft, as
 
 EDWARD WOETLBY MONTAGU. 485 
 
 he supposed the thief would be the only person of the party 
 who would not dip his finger in the water. They all dipped 
 except one, and all had their fingers blacked; the thief had 
 wet his finger in his mouth, and it was not blackened. 
 Then the prisoner knew that this one alone of all tho 
 others had been afraid to dip his finger in the water, where- 
 upon he at once accused him of the theft, and he confessed 
 it. But there was no witchcraft or sorcery; it was only an 
 ingenious device to discover a rogue. He added that al- 
 though he were put to the torture he could say nothing 
 more. 
 
 The above having been read to the prisoner, was declared 
 by him to be correctly recorded, and the truth according 
 to the oath which he had sworn. 
 Signed by him, 
 
 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 MATTHEO MAGRE, 
 
 Secretary. 
 
 The Inquisitors then ordered him a copy of the accusa- 
 tion, that he might within three days make arrangements 
 for his trial by conferring and agreeing with one of the 
 lawyers who are counsel for those persons tried by the 
 Holy Office, namely, Dr. Magrina, priest, and Father 
 Geronymo Vidal, Jesuit; giving the prisoner liberty to 
 make choice of either. The prisoner made choice of Dr. 
 Magrina, on which the Inquisitors ordered him to be sum- 
 moned. The audience then closed, and the prisoner being 
 admonished, was remanded to prison. 
 Before us, 
 
 DR. DOMINGO ABBAD Y HUERTA, 
 DR. BERNARDO Luis COTONER, 
 DR. JOSEPH DE OTERO Y. Cossio. 
 31
 
 486 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 No. VI. 
 
 AUDIENCE FOR COMMUNICATION OF THE ACCUSATION AND 
 EVIDENCE. 
 
 In the Royal Palace of the Inquisition at Saville, on the 
 10th day of January, 1735, the Inquisitor, Dr. Domingo 
 Abbad Y Huerta, being at his morning audience, ordered 
 the above-named E. W. M. to be brought from prison, 
 which being done, and the prisoner present, he was 
 
 Questioned. If he remembered any thing which he was 
 bound to declare according to the oath he had sworn ? 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. 
 
 The prisoner was then informed that Dr. Francisco 
 Magrina, whom he had selected for his counsel, was pres- 
 ent, with whom he might confer and make arrangements 
 for his defence. 
 
 Dr. Francisco Magrina was then sworn in verbo sacer- 
 dotis, to defend well and faithfully the said E. W. M. ; to 
 inform him if his case was not on the side of justice; to do 
 every thing which a good advocate is bound to do, and to 
 preserve secrecy throughout. 
 
 Then were produced and read the several examinations 
 of the said E. W. M., made from the 10th day of October, 
 1734, to the present time, with the accusation and the an- 
 swers of the prisoner. These he examined, and conferred 
 with the prisoner respecting his case, counselling him as to 
 the best defence which could be made to confess the 
 whole truth, and, if he had been guilty of any offence, to 
 beg for pardon, by which means he might obtain mercy. 
 
 The said E. W. M. replied, that he had already declared 
 the whole truth, as appeared by his confession ; that, be- 
 yond this, he denied every thing contained in the accusa- 
 tion, and, in consequence, begged to be acquitted and set 
 at liberty. 
 
 The Inquisition then ordered a copy of the above to be
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 487 
 
 given to the Promoter Fiscal of the Holy Office, who re- 
 quested that they might proceed to the proofs. The In- 
 quisitor replied that the cause should be judged definitely, 
 and the proofs on both sides received salvo juve imperti- 
 nentium et non admitlendorum, according to the style of 
 the Holy Office ; and the same was notified to both parties. 
 The Promoter Fiscal then declared that he reproduced 
 the testimony which had been received and registered 
 against the said E. W. M. in this Holy Office, which testi- 
 mony he desired might be examined and ratified in form, 
 and also that all other necessary investigations might be 
 made and the testimony published ; whereupon the audi- 
 ence closed, and the prisoner being admonished to bethink 
 himself well and declare the truth, was remanded to prison. 
 
 MATTHEO MAQRE, 
 
 Secretary. 
 No. VII. 
 
 AUDIENCE FOR THE PUBLICATION OF THE TESTIMONY. 
 
 In the Royal Palace of the Inquisition at Seville, on the 
 10th day of February, 1735. The Inquisitor, Dr. Domingo 
 Abbad Y Huerta, being at his morning audience, ordered 
 the above E. W. M. to be brought from the secret prison, 
 which being done and the prisoner present, he was 
 
 Questioned. If he remembered any thing which he was 
 bound to declare according to the oath he had sworn? 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. 
 
 The prisoner was then informed that the Promoter 
 Fiscal of the Holy Office had requested a publication of 
 the testimony against him, before which it would be well 
 for him to declare the whole truth, as this would cause him 
 to experience more benignity and mercy. 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. 
 
 Straightway appeared the Promoter Fiscal, and requested 
 publication of the testimony against the said E. W. M. ac- 
 cording to the style of the Holy Office. The Inquisitor
 
 488 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 ordered the publication to be made, concealing the names 
 of the witnesses and other circumstances which might 
 cause their persons to be known, according to the order 
 and style of the Holy Office, which was done in the manner 
 following : 
 
 Publication of the testimony against Edward Wortley 
 Montagu, native of London, England. 
 
 A certain witness, sworn and qualified in the proper time 
 
 and manner, in the town of , on a certain d&y of the 
 
 month of September, in the year 1*734, declares, &c. [Here 
 follows the testimony of the first witness, before given.] 
 
 Another witness sworn and qualified in the proper time 
 and manner declares, &c. [Here follows the testimony of 
 the second witness.] 
 
 Another witness, &c. [All the other testimony repeated.] 
 
 The Inquisitor then ordered the prisoner to make arrange- 
 ments for his defence ; and admonished him and remanded 
 him to prison. 
 
 No. VIII. 
 
 AUDIENCE TO COMMUNICATE THE PUBLICATION. 
 
 In the Royal Palace of the Inquisition of Seville, on the 
 10th day of March, 1135, the Inquisitor, Dr. Domingo 
 Abbad Y Huerta, being at his morning audience, ordered 
 the above E. W. M. to be brought from prison, which being 
 done, and the prisoner present, he was 
 
 Questioned. If he remembered any thing which he was 
 bound to declare in discharge of his conscience, according 
 to the oath he had sworn ? 
 
 Answered. That he had nothing more to say. 
 
 The prisoner was then informed that Dr. Francisco 
 Magrina, his counsel, was present, with whom he might 
 communicate, and take measures for his defence. The 
 publication of the testimony against the prisoner was then 
 read to the said Dr. Francisco Magrina, who proceeded to
 
 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 489 
 
 confer with the prisoner about his defence. Having done 
 this, he received from the hands of the prisoner a sheet of 
 paper, upon which he drew up articles of defence, which 
 were then read to the prisoner, and he declared that he 
 made a formal presentation of the same. Here follows 
 the defence. 
 
 DEFENCE. 
 
 Although Edward Wortley Montagu has no necessity 
 for any defence against the charges brought against him 
 by the Promoter Fiscal of this Holy Office, nevertheless 
 for greater security, and with an express declaration that 
 his impeachment of the testimony of the witnesses against 
 him is not occasioned by a desire to injure them, but solely 
 to defend himself, he states the following : 
 
 1st. He confesses that he has committed an offence 
 against the rules of the Church, but denies that he ought 
 to receive any punishment for the same; which is the 
 truth, because 
 
 2d. Although it be the fact that he ate the meat on the 
 feast in question, yet it is not the fact that he did it 
 through malice or with any desire to transgress the ordi- 
 nances of the Church, but he supposed that he lawfully 
 might do so, having a license from the Abbot ; which dec- 
 laration is the truth. 
 
 3d. It is not true that he was informed that he ought 
 not to eat the meat, yet he who says he so informed him, 
 suffered him to eat it notwithstanding ; which is the truth. 
 
 4th. The third and fourth accusations are not corrobo- 
 rated by any witness, and are utterly false ; which declara- 
 tion is the truth. 
 
 5th. The sixth, seventh, eighth, and part of the ninth 
 accusation are not corroborated by any witness, and are 
 wholly false ; which declaration is the truth. 
 
 6th. The eleventh and twelfth accusations are also false t'n 
 toto, and are not corroborated; which declaration is the truth.
 
 490 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 1th. These things that he has confessed to are harmless; 
 which is the truth. 
 
 8th. Single witnesses to such grave accusations are not 
 deserving of credit, insomuch as non det fides testibus singu- 
 laribus; which is the truth. 
 
 9th. The prisoner suspects that the witnesses against 
 him are acting maliciously, and under the command of 
 their superior ; which is the truth. 
 
 10. On the above accounts the said E. W. M. ought to 
 be acquitted by your Excellency, and released from prison, 
 experiencing justice at your hands ; vel alias omni meliori 
 modo quod de jure sibi adaptari valeat ; et verum. 
 
 llth. Ponit quod, omnia el singula, sunt vera ; super 
 quibus jus diei et justitiam ministrari pustulat ; et verum. 
 
 F. MAGRINA. 
 
 This being presented to the Inquisitor, was by him 
 ordered to be put on file. Whereupon the prisoner, being 
 admonished, was remanded to prison. 
 
 Before me, 
 
 MATTHEO MAGRE, 
 
 Secretary. 
 No. IX. 
 
 SENTENCE. . > 
 
 In the Royal Palace of the Inquisition of Seville, on the 
 12th day of March, 1135, at the afternoon audience for the 
 determination of causes : present the Inquisitors Dr. Do- 
 mingo Abbad Y Huerta, Dr. Bernardo Luis Cotoner, Dr. 
 Joseph de Otero Y Cossio. Having examined the pro- 
 ceedings of the cause against Edward Wortley Montagu, 
 now in the secret prison of this Holy Office, ordered unani- 
 mously, that he is to be confined for life in the said prison. 
 
 Before me, 
 
 MATTHEO MAGRE, 
 
 Secretary.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 491 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 I HAVE plunged the reader so abruptly into the heart of 
 the Inquisition that I suppose he will scarcely be prepared 
 for it, nor would he be less surprised by the pile of legal 
 documents not the least value of which is that they are 
 perfectly genuine with which I suddenly surrounded him, 
 and left him puzzled doubtless not a little at their profes- 
 sional jargon and pedantic forms. I will now endeavor to 
 help him out of the maze into which I so unceremoniously 
 thrust him, and when he reads or re-reads the preceding 
 chapter, by the light of this, I have no fear but that be 
 will more thoroughly understand the nature of the myste- 
 rious tribunal of which I was now the victim, than ever 
 has been understood by Englishmen, or even foreigners, 
 before. For in no work that I know of is there so com- 
 plete, so circumstantial, and so accurate a narrative of the 
 legal process of this ecclesiastical star chamber as in the 
 present; and as every step in the proceedings is here mi- 
 nutely traced, the world can judge of that institution on 
 grounds more authentic and distinct than have ever before 
 been presented to its eye. Circumstances, which I shall 
 probably at a future time disclose, put me in possession 
 of these documents, and I have no scruple in making them 
 public not out of any hatred to the Church of Home or 
 its establishments, but simply as historical memoranda, 
 well worthy the attention of the philosopher of every creed 
 and kingdom, and valuable to all who make religious sys- 
 tems the subject of speculation or inquiry. 
 
 The reader already knows how suddenly I was snatched 
 away from the dreamy vagabond sort of state in which I 
 found myself at Granada. Though I am not usually cold- 
 blooded, or quakcr-liko when wrongs are offered to me, I 
 knew at once that resistance was hopeless; and I trusted
 
 492 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 rather to the goodness of my cause than the vigor of my 
 muscles. For I had no terror of any dangerous result. 
 The charge was heresy this the semblance of my captors 
 at once signified a charge which I dismissed with scorn, 
 and which- 1 had no doubt I could easily repel. Had they 
 been alguazils, and had I been apprehended for murder, or 
 some other offence against the criminal laws, such as my 
 monks might easily have invented, I should probably have 
 been not a little nervous; but to an accusation of heretical 
 opinion, I was conscious that I was in no way liable; and 
 therefore I bore my fetters without complaint. Strange 
 and absurd it will appear that I reasoned so. I ought to 
 have known that if they were capable of inventing a crimi- 
 nal charge against me, they were equally capable of sus- 
 taining one whose basis should be heresy but in the con- 
 fusion of the moment, I did not reason so, but in the other 
 and foolish manner that I have mentioned; and I went my 
 way with a cheerfulness of demeanor which seemed to sur- 
 prise the grave and black-robed lictors of the church. 
 
 I was carried into a gloomy building as large as a bar- 
 rack, with vast silent courtyards, dark porticos, and frown- 
 ing arches; and through stone corridors, along which our 
 steps were painfully and sadly echoed. On each side I 
 saw small and iron-studded doors, leading to cells innu- 
 merable; but every door was firmly chained and locked, 
 and double barred with massive bars. I was then led into 
 a sort of dungeon, and having been stripped, I was clothed 
 in a long, sad-colored doublet, and a man, who seemed a 
 clerk, entered in a book an inventory of my clothes, telling 
 me, at the same time, that I was now in the Holy Inquisi- 
 tion, and that there was nothing lost there, but that every 
 thing should be restored to me when I went out, were it 
 even of the value of the hundredth part of a farthing. I 
 asked him why I was brought here, and demanded the 
 name of my accuser ; but he answered :
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 493 
 
 " Sir, you must observe a strict silence here, and ask no 
 questions whatever. You must be as still as if you were 
 dead; and indeed, while you remain within these walls, 
 you are truly dead to all corporeal things. You must not 
 speak, nor whistle, nor make the least noise that can be 
 heard by any; and, if you hear anybody cry or make a 
 noise, you must still be silent, upon pain of two hundred 
 lashes. Your properest course will be to recline upon this 
 mattress all the day until you are released, and thus you 
 will escape all censure." I told him I could not always 
 recline there, whereupon he added : " Well, you may 
 indeed walk, but it must be softly, so that no one shall be 
 disturbed in the least. This place is the Place of Silence." 
 He then departed with the apparitors, and I was left alone. 
 
 This was a new scene in my eventful drama, which I now 
 began to contemplate with feelings any thing but satisfac- 
 tory. So long as I was in the open air, cheered by the 
 sun, and breathed upon by the free wind, I could look for- 
 ward without dismay to the prison which I approached ; 
 for it seemed to me that, after all, it would be but a tempo- 
 rary residence ; but the scene had now become changed, 
 and the prospect was any thing but agreeable. I had so 
 long been a happy denizen of nature, and had been so used 
 to trip over her hills and dales like some wild, free creature 
 of the forest, that I cared but little for what ordinary men 
 consider the worst privations. My clothes, my lodgings, or 
 my food, were the least of all things in my thought ; but 
 liberty was a priceless gem, to which nothing else could be 
 compared, and of this it now seemed that I was likely to be 
 deprived for some unknown period, and for some unknown 
 offence. In place of the glorious forest, or the sublime 
 lonely mountain, I was in a little cell of ten or twelve feet 
 in extent and so dimly lighted by one small grated window 
 that, if you had a book, you could with difficulty read its 
 pages. I was surrounded by a horrible silence, which ate
 
 494 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 into the very essence of life and made me most intensely 
 sad. I missed the rustle of the trees and the song of birds, 
 the merr}*- music of the rivulet and the sense of heavenly 
 freedom, which, above all other sensations, is perhaps the 
 most rapturous to the soul and heart of man. 
 
 The food with which they supplied me was frugal and 
 monastic, or rather anti-monastic for, in our convent, we 
 fed luxuriously on all the dainties that can gratify hunger 
 and thirst. A little wine and bread and half-a-dozen wal- 
 nuts was all that the Holy Office supplied daity to its pris- 
 oners ; but, as we had no exercise, our appetites were not 
 great, and we remained in health on this slight refection. 
 A week passed in solitude, during which I saw no one but 
 my keeper. At the end of that time, he hurried one morn- 
 ing rapidly into my cell, and told me to make ready to go 
 out. I hailed this as a sign of freedom, and, with boyish 
 gladness, asked him, Whither ? He answered : " You must 
 go to audience." " What !" I asked, " to the king ?" " No," 
 said he, "but to my lords of the Holy Office." This reply 
 damped all my courage. However, I prepared myself, and 
 was conducted to the place. 
 
 It was a large, oblong chamber, not very well lighted. 
 On the wall, at the extreme end, were : on the right, the 
 Papal arms the mitre and cross keys finely carved and 
 gilt; and, on the left, the royal arms of Spain under a 
 naked sword. In the centre was a colossal carving, repre- 
 senting the crucifixion ; and as it was finely painted, and 
 all the deathliness and horror of the event were plainly 
 represented, it struck the eye with a vividness that is but 
 seldom felt at mere pictorial images. In front of this, be- 
 fore a long table, was a chair, in which sat an Inquisitor, 
 and near him was a small crucifixion, placed upright, so as 
 to be ever in his ej'e, doubtless that he might be filled only 
 with the most holy thoughts. At the end of this table was 
 a little bench, at which I sat, and near, at a small table at
 
 BDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 495 
 
 my right, was a Secretary, who made minutes of all that 
 took place. 
 
 The Inquisitor himself, whose name I afterwards learned 
 was Dr. Domingo Abbad Y Huerta, was a middle-aged 
 man, of a saturnine expression, a large and somewhat 
 coarse mouth, a broad forehead, well developed, and a 
 piercing gaze in his eyes, which had, at times, something 
 sinister, and which seemed to search you through and 
 through, though he never looked me once fully in the face 
 during the whole investigation. There was an air of com- 
 mand in his features, habitual to one who had long exer- 
 cised power of life and death, and his voice was clear, 
 cold, harsh, and imperious. I was informed by the appari- 
 tor, that I was now having my first audience, and I was 
 accordingly questioned in the manner set out in the legal 
 document which is so headed. I observed that, however 
 carefully the Secretary wrote down all my answers, thero 
 was an air of incredulity about both himself and the In- 
 quisitor, as if they noted what they heard as a matter of 
 course, without according the slightest particle of faith in 
 its truth, or being in any way affected whether it made for 
 or against me. However, I answered frankly and sincerely, 
 for I was in no fear at all ; and though I had seen some- 
 thing of the interior of religious life, the parting benedic- 
 tion or advice with which the Inquisitor dismissed me, 
 seemed so sincere and well intended that, had I really any 
 thing to confess against myself, I should have been tempted 
 to do so. But I had nothing to charge myself with, and 
 therefore I was obliged to appear contumacious to my 
 judges if, indeed, the Inquisitor ever condescended to 
 think at all about me. 
 
 The next day I asked my keeper how long I should be 
 kept in prison ? I told him that I was wholly ignorant 
 what charge of heresy or disbelief could be brought against 
 me, and that it was useless for the Inquisitor to endeavor
 
 496 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 to extort a confession of that of which I was wholly inno- 
 cent. He told me not to be afraid ; that the Inquisitor was 
 a most holy and just man, and that all he did was intended 
 for my benefit, spiritual and earthly ; that if I answered 
 freely to the questions put, I should receive the highest 
 marks of favor and respect the Inquisition never exercis- 
 ing its sovereign powers, except over those who were so 
 obstinately wicked that they were insensible either to 
 prayers or commands. He told me he had known persons 
 to be confined there ten, twenty, and even thirty years, for 
 refusing to make that full and open confession which the 
 Church sought simply for their own benefit, but that noth- 
 ing could be more honorable or expeditious than their 
 mode of administering justice, when the accused dealt 
 fairly with them. 
 
 A day or two after this I received a visit from one of the 
 reverend Doctors of the place, accompanied by his secre- 
 tary, who, with an air of intense kindness, asked me 
 whether I was well ? whether my keeper was kind to me ? 
 whether my food, my bed, and lodging were pleasant and 
 agreeable ? whether I had any complaint to make ? for if 
 I had it should be speedily inquired into and redressed 
 and, finally, if there was any thing appertaining to my 
 spiritual welfare to whjph the Holy Office could in the least 
 contribute, I had but to name it, and it should be at once 
 looked to ; for the Church regarded with maternal love all 
 its children, however erring, and never was filled with more 
 heavenly joy than when she could see them repent and live. 
 
 To all these fine speeches I simply answered that I had 
 committed no offence deserving spiritual chastisement; 
 and that further, the loss of my liberty was the greatest 
 punishment which could be imposed upon me. Wherefore 
 I besought him that I might have a speedy trial, for I had 
 no doubt I could make manifest my innocence the moment 
 I saw my accuser. The reverend doctor parted from me
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 497 
 
 with a " God bless you, my son," which might have melted 
 the heart of a stone, and in sooth I suppose it would have 
 melted mine into water, had I not been thoroughly on my 
 guard. Despite the vigilance of my jailor, I noted a hun- 
 dred symptoms that I was in a place of torture. I could 
 hear at midnight long and dismal groans, whose dying 
 echoes were dreadful to the ear ; in the day, when I was 
 meditating, a shrill scream as if produced by a paroxysm 
 of the direst anguish seemed to echo through my cell, as if 
 conveyed by some strange passage with which the dungeon 
 of the sufferer communicated with mine. The keeper stole 
 often outside my door to see whether he could hear me say 
 any thing, and to discover no doubt also whether I was 
 communicating with the tenants of the next cells, or plot- 
 ting against the ordinances of the place. Once when I 
 asked him about Captain Bermudez, he smiled significantly, 
 shrugged his shoulders, and signified that I was doing my- 
 self no good by inquiring after such a reprobate. To my 
 inquiry as to what had become of the children of the Gita- 
 nos, he flew into a passion, and ordered me to mind my 
 own business, or he would report me to his superiors. 
 
 In another month I was again summoned by an appari- 
 tor to the Second Audience, when another holy Doctor 
 appeared on the tribunal. This audience ended as unsat- 
 isfactorily as the first, and I was sternly remanded to my 
 cell. 
 
 The Third Audience was on the following month, and 
 on this occasion there were three Inquisitors ; the particu- 
 lars of it are set forth in the legal instrument, and it cer- 
 tainly tried my patience to the utmost to hear such false 
 charges. On this occasion I was furnished with the depo- 
 sitions, and the accusation against me; but the names 
 were carefully suppressed. I became possessed of the 
 authentic documents afterwards in a manner that will be 
 explained. The countenances of the Inquisitors had now
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 grown dark and angry; and that accent of benevolence 
 which on their first or second appearance they had used, 
 was now changed into one of harsh and imperious terror, 
 in which was developed the true nature of the men ; hard, 
 cold, cruel as steel. However, I did not heed them much, 
 being convinced in my own mind (against all reason and 
 experience as I now know) that nothing really could be 
 done to me, as I was innocent. Some other formal audi- 
 ences being had, which are mentioned in the document, I 
 was visited by my counsel, Dr. Magrina, who told me that 
 God was the first Inquisitor, for he had questioned Adam 
 and Eve in the garden, &c., which precedent clearly proved 
 the heavenly origin of the Holy Office, and the sublime 
 nature of the duties imposed on its ministers. He used a 
 great many sophistical arguments to induce me to make 
 full confession, and appeared wholly to mock my protesta- 
 tions of innocence. However, he maintained appearances 
 as well as he could, and he often spoke to me on other 
 matters, on which we could converse freely without sus- 
 picion. He was pleased to say he felt the deepest interest 
 in my welfare, and that if I would but embrace the pure 
 and holy faith of the Catholic Church, I might be immedi- 
 ately appointed to a most honorable and confidential office 
 in England on behalf of the rightful heir to the Throne. 
 My connections and opportunities were hinted at, my sup- 
 posed knowledge of the Court and Court intrigues would 
 be beneficial to the illustrious family most deeply inter- 
 ested, and I might be dismissed at once with every token 
 of dignity, if I did but prove the sincerity of my heart, and 
 the falseness of the accusation, by consenting to be bap- 
 tised in the Holy Catholic Faith. My answer to this imper- 
 tinence may be surmised. I had not abjured slavery to a 
 parent in order to assume it under a priest. 
 
 At last the final hearing came on. The defence of Dr. 
 Magrina, I suppose, was in the usual style of these proceed-
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 499 
 
 ings. The result the reader knows. To me the sentence 
 came like a sentence of death, and I was filled with horror. 
 I am certain I should have infinitely preferred the stako 
 itself, to perpetual imprisonment in this odious place. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 A POWER was working outside the walls of this Royal 
 Palace of the Inquisition, on which its sacred governors 
 never calculated. The recent foray on the Gitanos, and 
 the abduction of upwards of two hundred of their young 
 ones, had driven this people into frenzy, which would have 
 evaporated in mere talk (for the Gitano race are the most 
 timid of all the people under the sun) had not the acci- 
 dental arrest of Captain Bermudez supplied flame to what 
 was already full ready to blaze forth. The gallant Captain 
 had ostensibly done nothing to subject himself to the 
 spiritual interference of the Holy Office. His crimes were, 
 it was thought, altogether of a secular nature ; and it was 
 always the spirit of the Inquisition to meddle with nothing 
 but their own affairs, and to let the municipal power exer- 
 cise the laws upon those delinquents who had transgressed 
 in worldly matters; reserving to themselves the whole 
 jurisdiction over those who had violated conscience by 
 some speech, or thought, or act, which was not directly 
 cognizable by the civil courts. It would seem that this 
 was not so ; and that the Holy Office had received an ac- 
 cusation against the Captain of some spiritual transgres- 
 sion. I believe it was the abduction in early life of a 
 novice, or a nun for which they were now resolved to 
 wreak full satisfaction on his head. Accordingly, although 
 a band of soldiers had been despatched from Madrid for
 
 500 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 the sole purpose of securing him and destroying his com- 
 panions, the Holy Office with that air of superiority over 
 the civil tribunals which they always exhibited, and never 
 failed to carry into practice where they could, claimed full 
 power over Captain Bermudez ; and the soldiers of the 
 king, after several ineffectual attempts to get into the 
 stronghold of the bandits, were obliged to return the way 
 they came the gypsj^ Duke hinting prettj^ freely that their 
 commandant had received a large sum of money as a peace- 
 ofiering the vulgar would call it a bribe from Julian 
 Komea, who acted as a kind of confidential clerk to Cap- 
 tain Bermudez. The bandits, therefore, being wholly un- 
 molested, soon concocted measures with the Gitauos for a 
 general attack on the Royal Palace. They waited for fully 
 seven months, until all measures of precaution had been laid 
 aside and the soldiers were safely barracked in the capital. 
 Numerous meetings took place, and the Gitanos were 
 rapidly instructed in the use of the trabucho and the pistol, 
 though I believe nothing short of the terrible outrage per- 
 petrated on them could have induced those people to lay 
 aside their peaceful, timid habits, and enter on a course 
 which must, necessarily, terminate in carnage. During 
 these proceedings Dom Balthazar arrived from a distant 
 quarter, no one knew where, but every one recognized his 
 right to command. Balthazar, as we have seen, was no 
 craven. On the contrary, he was a man fully equal to any 
 emergency of this nature. His recognized position among 
 the Gitanos entitled him to counsel, and even to command; 
 and the gyps}' Duke willingly surrendered up to another 
 the leadership of an enterprise which was wholly repug- 
 nant to all his former instincts and habits. 
 
 Of the bandits, the one selected to fill the Captain's place 
 was an arch but bold wag, who rejoiced in the nickname 
 of St. Joseph. He had been a student for the priesthood, 
 but having got a young Jewess in the family-way, he fled
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 501 
 
 into the mountains, and joined himself to some noble spirits, 
 who with true cosmopolitan philosophy waged war alike 
 upon Christian and Hebrew. The incidents in which he 
 had been engaged, and his own profane comparisons of 
 himself to the venerable sage, had got him the name in 
 which he now rejoiced ; and he was well and widely known 
 for his unrelenting pillage of all holy ministers of religion, 
 whom he usually shaved, or experimented upon in a man- 
 ner absurdly ludicrous to all who could dissociate religious 
 duties from the order of the priesthood, and who did not 
 quite hold that every monk was a deity or an archangel. 
 Priests and Jews were the chief game he hunted ; and as 
 luck would have it, he had had remarkable success in the 
 chase. His bags were full of reliques, scapularies, holy 
 beads, cassocks and other paraphernalia of priests; and 
 though he had a large collection of breviaries, the only por- 
 tion of them which he ever read were the legends of th 
 saints, on which he bestowed unlimited jokes, and which 
 he said were far pleasanter than the miracles of Ovid. The 
 other consecrated trappings were subjected to unmerciful 
 profanation. He would dress himself as a priest, and, 
 entering a village, confess all the young women of the 
 place, and return to his companions primed and loaded 
 with extraordinary anecdotes, which he recited with an air 
 so comical and waggish, that none could abstain from 
 laughter. But with all this, the fellow, like Mercutio, was 
 as brave as a lion. 
 
 Seven months passed, as I have said, before the banditti 
 or the Gitanos took any steps in their meditated siege. 
 They now put themselves under the leadership of Balthazar 
 and St. Joseph, and the event was fixed for the first dark 
 night. They had an emissary within the Palace, in the 
 shape of a turnkey, who was a Gitano by blood, and whoso 
 fidelity the robbers insured by the promise of a purse of 
 gold if he would open the gates and admit them. This 
 32
 
 502 EDWARD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 fellow was soon persuaded. He had originally been a 
 robber himself, but a priest whom he had eased of some 
 doubloons wrought a miraculous conversion in him, and 
 after a probation of piety and religious exercises he was 
 made an officer of the Inquisition, where he had, up to the 
 present period, performed his duties with fidelity enough. 
 But the fame of Captain Bermudez was so widely spread 
 through the provinces that our new convert felt not a little 
 inclined to seek adventures with him, and the old vagrant 
 humor breaking forth, when the Captain himself was in- 
 carcerated, he determined to confer on him such a service as 
 would insure enrolment in his band, and thorough reliance 
 on his future trustworthiness. He got into communication 
 therefore with the Captain, and an amicable negotiation 
 was entered into between Bermudez, Balthazar, St. Joseph 
 and Sylvetti, (so was the officer called,) which was satisfac- 
 tory to all parties, and resulted in the arrangement which 
 I have mentioned. The guard over Captain Bermudez 
 was to be knocked on the head, the Captain himself was to 
 be let loose, and taken into the quarters were the young 
 Gritanos were huddled up, and where a party of the gang 
 were to meet him, and, furnishing the urchins with torches 
 and flambeaux, were to fire the Palace, and in the general 
 confusion sack it of all it contained, and liberate the im- 
 prisoned heretics, out of whom they anticipated some fresh 
 and desperate recruits to their ranks. 
 
 Every thing succeeded miraculously. A saint's night 
 was chosen for the siege, when half the officers were drunk; 
 for though the Spaniards are a sober people, there are cer- 
 tain holy seasons when indulgence is permitted ; and the 
 festival of a Saint is one of these. Sylvetti manfully car- 
 ried out his project ; and Captain Bermudez, to his unmiti- 
 gated delight, found himself a free man as free at least as 
 he could be within the walls of a prison, though unconfined 
 within any cell. He proceeded at once to the quarter indi-
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 503 
 
 cated. Sylvetti opened the door, and let in the rabble ; 
 they entered silently, and then barred the huge doors. 
 Now a terrible struggle arose. There were at least a hun- 
 dred officers and warders within this vast place, and they 
 were all well armed. The encounter was terrible, but num- 
 bers prevailed ; and the Gitanos once heated by the sight 
 of blood, and the certainty of conquest, grew perfectly wild 
 and furious. Fire was applied in a hundred places at the 
 same instant to the Palace ; the most fearful hand-to-hand 
 encounters took place; the work of pillage commenced; 
 and though there was not much to seize, still to the Gita- 
 nos almost every thing was valuable, though the gentlemen 
 of Captain Bermudez cared only for gold cups, or silver 
 crucifixes. They got a few of these in the great chapel, 
 and managed to sack some rich vestments, one of which 
 gorgeously worked in gold St. Joseph wisely secured for 
 himself; and having carefully packed up all that they in- 
 tended to take away, they were preparing for their depar- 
 ture like men entirely satisfied with their night's work. 
 But Captain Bermudez had not forgotten what he owed to 
 me. It suddenly occurred to him that I also was in the 
 Inquisition, and as he knew it would be impossible to find 
 me, he proposed a general and instant liberation of all the 
 prisoners a part of the original plan which in the hurry 
 and confusion had been well nigh forgotten. 
 
 It so happened that I was among the very first on whom 
 the Captain himself accidentally dropped. I had heard 
 the horrible uproar, but could form no conception as to its 
 cause ; but when the place began to fill with smoke, and 
 the groans of the dying and wounded, mingled with the 
 shouts, the blasphemies, and the execrations of the exult- 
 ant victors began to swell into a tempest, coupled with the 
 shrill screams of the children, who scarcely knew whether 
 they were in the hands of friends or foes, I began to get 
 alarmed for my own safety, and to regard the chances of
 
 504 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 being roasted alive as not the least remote from possibility. 
 I kicked against my prison door, and did all I could to 
 make myself heard but I did not know that my worthy 
 keeper was then lying within a few yards of me with his 
 throat cut from ear to ear, and his pockets rifled of the 
 few silver coins which they contained. And now on all 
 sides arose a terrible chorus of cries ; the shriek of despair, 
 the shout of vengeance, the accent of supplication, the howl 
 of frenzy for there were several in this odious place whom 
 their wrongs had driven into madness. Hastily, at the 
 head of a few chosen men, all of whom had keys, came 
 Captain Bermudez along the arcades. I could hear each 
 cell unlocked, and I was in an agony of expectation until 
 my turn also came, for I could see a red glare now imaged 
 in the sky which told me that this mighty prison was on 
 fire. The Captain saw me, but could scarcely believe his 
 eyes so great was the change which a few short months 
 had wrought in my appearance ; nor was it until the torches 
 shone full over me, that he was quite certain who it was. 
 For my part I did not leave him long in doubt; for I 
 rushed upon him and clasped his hand with thanks for my 
 deliverance ; a greeting which the worthy Spaniard received 
 with his accustomed gravity. 
 
 " Come along, Senor," said he, " and join us in liberating 
 the rest." 
 
 I gladly did so, and we went wildly from cell to cell. 
 The vast quadrangles were now one vast Babel of confu- 
 sion. In every place were men and women, dressed and 
 undressed, who added to the tumult by their tears, their 
 terrors, their amazement, and their joy. The subterra- 
 nean dungeons were every moment disgorging fresh vic- 
 tims. There was feeble, querulous, weather-beaten old age, 
 and youth in all its brightness, dimmed in the Very vigor 
 of its hopes. In one cell we found a Jew, nearly eighty 
 years of age, with long gray neglected beard and haggard
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 505 
 
 eyes, who told us he had been taken away from home and 
 wife and children fifty years before, and locked up in this 
 hell ever since, enduring a living death ; for he had never 
 heard the least tidings of his family from that time to the 
 present. The old man was like a mummy ; it could be 
 just said that he lived, but nothing more. He was like a 
 toad disentombed from a hard rock, where he had lain 
 buried for ten thousand years ; the sight and hope of free- 
 dom was too much for him. He told his tale feebly, 
 gasped for air at the end of it, and fell down, expiring in a 
 few moments. In another place we found a priest, who 
 had been originally immersed for some slight ecclesias- 
 tical offence ; but when he was searched in the prison, a 
 copy of Spinosa was found in his pocket, and, for this 
 frightful crime, he was sentenced to a dungeon for life. He 
 was a tall and noble-looking man ; his eyes were full of 
 philosophic calm and dignity ; he seemed to treat all things 
 as the result of destiny ; and when we told him that he was 
 free, and the manner in which it had been brought about, 
 he mildly reproved Bermudez for so wicked a contrivance 
 as an attack on the citadel of the Hoi}'' Office, and asked 
 him how he hoped to obtain the intercession of the Virgin 
 for his participation in this blasphemous outrage upon the 
 sacred temple of her best-beloved ministers ? So great is 
 the force of custom on the mind that I have no doubt this 
 man would subsequently surrender, and willingly submit 
 himself to his allotted punishment. 
 
 And now a loud cry of the wildest exultation was heard. 
 We turned to the corner from whence it came, and as we 
 had nearly emptied the whole prison by this, I accompa- 
 nied Captain Bermudez to the place from whence the noise 
 proceeded. 
 
 " It is time," he said, " to prepare for flight. If we re 
 main much longer we may be surprised." 
 
 We found ourselves among the Gitanos, who were danc-
 
 506 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 ing wildly, like so many mad people ; their joy knew no 
 bounds. They had found an Englishwoman who knew 
 their language, and there were loud plaudits. What icy 
 chill was it that suddenly ran through my heart? I 
 rushed into the middle of the crowd. The gypsies made 
 way at once, when they saw who I was ; nay, they began 
 to congratulate me on the joy I should feel at being thus a 
 party in the liberation of my countrywoman. She was 
 lying on the ground, tenderly supported by some of the 
 Gitanos. Her hair was loose upon her shoulders, and her 
 appearance fair, but fragile in the extreme. Her eyes were 
 closed ; but, as I looked at her for a moment, she opened 
 them, and with a bound, a superhuman exertion, she rose, 
 and flung herself in my arms. 
 
 " O, Wortley !" she said, " are you indeed come at last ?" 
 
 I was overpowered. Could this be Francesca ? Could 
 this be my innocent and noble wife? It was so. The 
 sudden surprise had bereft me, as it were, of my rea- 
 son ; but I knew that it was she, and I folded her to my 
 heart. 
 
 " She is my wife," I said to the people ; and many of 
 them melted into tears. She meanwhile lay upon my heart 
 bereft of sense and motion. Captain Bermudez instantly 
 ordered a mattress to be brought forth, and when she was 
 laid on it, he gave her over to tho charge of the gypsies, 
 and ordered a retreat. I walked by her side, holding her 
 hand, and wondering what new revelation was now to 
 come. Even at the moment I could not convince myself 
 but that I was playing a part only in an incoherent dream. 
 
 With some difficulty we made our way from the burning 
 palace. The whole city was now aroused ; the guards and 
 the authorities were there ; but seeing a determined force 
 of sixty men, armed with knives and pistols, and upwards 
 of six hundred of the Gitanos, bearing sledge-hammers, 
 pikes, guns, and swords, as they guarded their liberated
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 507 
 
 offspring, who clung to them with eager limbs ; observing, 
 too, that we were momentarily reinforced from the Albay- 
 cin by crowds of the female gypsies, who gathered around 
 us with frantic cries of joy, almost all being armed with 
 daggers, or other implements of offence ; and that, among 
 those whom we had liberated, there was a large number 
 prepared to fight desperately for freedom, should any 
 attempt be made on the part of the magistrates to detain 
 them by force, they thought that moderation was the 
 safest course ; and indeed there were hundreds among the 
 assembled citizens who could not but sympathize with the 
 energetic means to which the Gitanos resorted; and few 
 saw with sorrow the downfall of so horrible an institution 
 as that which was now surrounded by the flames. Any 
 notion of an attack upon us, therefore, if ever it was enter- 
 tained, was abandoned when our numbers were discovered, 
 and our resolution to defend ourselves to the last extremity 
 could be traced in our determined, silent, dogged bearing. 
 The crowd opened a passage for us ; we passed in silence, 
 but with vigilant eyes. I think I saw a movement made 
 at one place towards Captain Bermudez by some of the 
 magistrates ; but that worthy, with a pair of pistols in his 
 hand, looked steadfastly at the approaching party, and, 
 without wasting many words, signified to them that an 
 attempt on him must be the prelude at all events to their 
 own destruction, and to the most deadly civil commotion 
 that Spain had known since the days of the Moors. Our 
 inarch was rapid and terrible ; the few villages we passed 
 through were evidently cowed and overawed by the impos- 
 ing fierceness of our appearance j miles seemed nothing to 
 us in our excited condition.
 
 508 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYII. 
 
 WE now mounted upward by the winding road of the 
 Alhambra. The moon was bright in heaven ; the snowy 
 mountain peaks of the Sierra Nevada were one sheet of 
 glittering crystal. The lonely Tower of Comares rose be- 
 fore us still and stately ; the hills and valleys rich with fig 
 and pomegranite lay in deep repose and shadow ; but here 
 and there we could see the soft moonlight imaged on many 
 a fairy stream that flowed in silver from the emerald glens 
 and gorges of the Alpuxarras. I was once again happy 
 or at all events indulging in a happy dream. Beside me, 
 with her hand clasped in mine, was my own beloved Fran- 
 cesca beautiful as ever, though faint and thin ; while in her 
 eyes which now beamed on me with enthusiastic fondness, 
 I read a world of love, as pure as snow ; as undying as 
 ever animated the heart of woman. We did not speak, for 
 I could see how feeble she was, and I was satisfied to hold 
 and press her hand, knowing that in each mute caress she 
 understood the whole of what my spirit felt. And now we 
 had passed that Moorish palace, and were ascending the 
 higher eminence on which the g} r psy tribe have made their 
 dwelling for so many centuries, burrowing in the rocks and 
 caves, and nestling amid fruits and flowers, with an Arab 
 independence of the mere superfluities of life, which in my 
 judgment is the surest proof of high organization. Of 
 two men one of whom is content with a handful of dates, 
 while the other can do nothing without a beefstake the 
 first is certainly the greater. Suddenly there was a loud 
 disturbance in our rear; and a tall horseman rode up, 
 mounted on a powerful mule. Our eyes met. We both 
 knew each other at a glance, though we had not met for 
 some time. It was Dom Balthazar. Looking at the litter 
 and at myself, he rudely demanded
 
 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAOU. 509 
 
 "What means this? and what brings this man here?" 
 
 I returned him a look of hate and scorn, but I disdained 
 to answer. In a rough voice he called out to the bearers 
 oT the litter to halt, and they did so. 
 
 " Drag away that man," he said, pointing to me. 
 
 But now Captain Bermudez came forward. 
 
 "My friend," he said, "I don't know who you are, or 
 what you want, but you had better go home, and become 
 sober. You have no business with us." 
 
 "And who may you be?" asked Balthazar, with an 
 angry gesture of hatred and rage. 
 
 " I am called Bermudez," answered the other ; " who are 
 you ?" 
 
 " Whoever I am, it matters not to you," replied Balthazar. 
 " I am in command of my brethren here, and this woman 
 is my wife." 
 
 " Scoundrel !" I said, darting towards him, "how darest 
 thou to say this ? Thou the refuse and scum of mortals !" 
 
 He looked at me with a cold hate; and drawing his 
 dagger, came to meet me. Bermudez flung himself between 
 us. 
 
 " Senor," said he to me, " are you mad that you mind 
 this varlet? You who have but just recovered your wife, 
 and such a wife, ought not- to be moved by this fellow." 
 
 " I tell you she is my wife," roared Balthazar, and he 
 made towards the litter. As he did so, Francesca rose ; 
 she seemed imbued with new strength. 
 
 " Begone," she said, " torment me not. Are not all my 
 woes and troubles from thee? What have I done that 
 thou shouldst persecute me longer ? Now I am with him 
 again, and all thy malice shall be defeated." 
 
 She looked at me with all her innocent and loving heart 
 in her eyes. She breathed her spirit into myself. 
 
 " Yes," said I, " Francesca, fear him not. But my hour 
 is come, and I shall have vengeance on this villain."
 
 510 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 " Sayest thou so?" he said, urging his mule still towards 
 me as I supposed, and almost trampling down Bermudez 
 in his way. The Gitanos seemed half disposed to aid him; 
 they looked threateningly at me and the Captain, and one 
 or two of them drew forth their long knives. 
 
 " No man shall lift his hand against Dom Balthazar," 
 said one ; " we all owe him fealty, and he has but to say 
 the word and we shall obey him." 
 
 " True, my brother," he cried out, " but this is a traitor 
 knave who has broken every law of the tribe, and deserves 
 death. The woman is my wife, and I shall have her, or 
 know why, in his heart's blood." 
 
 The gypsies were about to deliver over the litter and its 
 burthen to Dom Balthazar, when Francesca sprang out of 
 it, and placed herself beside me. 
 
 "Good people!" she exclaimed, " it is false all false! 
 here only is my husband," and she hung on my neck; 
 " that man has always been my deadly foe." 
 
 " It must be true," said Bermudez : "men, come forward 
 and arrest this scoundrel," and he called to St. Joseph, 
 who was laughing beside him, in his usual wild way, and 
 caring little what took place, so long as there were blows 
 and fun. 
 
 A deadly fight appeared imminent. The Gitanos were 
 evidently disposed to believe Dom Balthazar in preference 
 to me, when the latter rode right against me, and lifting 
 his dagger, aimed, I know not at which, but Francesca 
 flung herself before me, and received the blow in her bosom. 
 
 Who can describe the yell of fierce revenge with which 
 this diabolical villain at length accomplished the pin-pose 
 of his soul ? He raised his dagger, reeking with her blood, 
 and shaking it in the air, kissed it, and ere I could recover 
 from my stupor he was gone. Several of the gypsies pur- 
 sued him, but he warned them off with some mysterious 
 gibberish, which seemed to awe them all. The bandits then
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 511 
 
 took the chase, but all traces of Dom Balthazar were lost. 
 For my part I was transfixed with deadly horror. I flung 
 myself on the earth beside her, and groaned aloud. Some 
 women now ran up to us ; we gently lifted her on the rude 
 litter, and bore her to the Albaycin there was no other 
 refuge for either her or me. She was placed in a cave 
 which belonged to the Duke himself. It was trellised with 
 myrtle, orange and other odoriferous trees ; eglantine, cle- 
 matis, and the wild vine lent their sweet shades over and 
 abi nt it. The Gitanos seemed to have forgotten their own 
 troubles in this dread catastrophe of one so young, so inno- 
 cent, so beautiful; and though the parents pressed their 
 rescued babes to their hearts, and covered them with kisses 
 and endearments, yet still I could detect many an anxious, 
 pitying glance upon her who had but a moment ago shone 
 like some lovely lily of the stream, but who now, with 
 broken stalk and drooping head, was passing away into 
 dark oblivion that is in death. The blood had ceased to 
 flow, for they had bound up the wound ; but when the 
 leech of eighty years who knew the force of every healing 
 herb and drug saw her, he shook his head, and intimated 
 that all was over. 
 
 " O, my own, my loved, my long lost, lately found Fran- 
 cesca," I exclaimed, "art thou indeed leaving me forever? 
 For this have I endured sleepless nights and days of agony ? 
 for this have 1 abandoned home and friends, and all that 
 reconciles to hated life ? Thou who art the spirit of my 
 own soul, art passing away; thou knowest me not, thou 
 canst not give me sign or token that in thy heart I still 
 am loved ; neither canst thou open wide the mystery that 
 has so long concealed thee from thy husband-lover. Oh, 
 wake! wake! look upon me once again before thou departest 
 forever ; let those sacred eyes shine upon me, and speak ; 
 let me know what thou hast endured, that if I live I may 
 at least avenge thy wrongs. Ah, poor child! a sad and
 
 512 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 wretched destiny has thine been. Torn in earliest youth 
 from all that could make thee happy, thou wert brought 
 up alone, and far away from all the sweetest sympathies 
 of life. For a brief space thou hadst a dream of light and 
 beauty for a brief space the hallowed paradise of love was 
 opened unto thee, and we did walk together in its gardens ; 
 but a hand and sword of fire expelled us, and since then 
 our wanderings have been wide and many. For me the 
 glory of my youth and hope is gone ; for thee thy life is 
 ebbing fast, and thou knowest not that I am beside thee. 
 Speak, speak ! wake ! or I shall go mad if indeed I am 
 not already so with many woes but this, the darkest of 
 them all," and I flung myself on the earth beside Fran- 
 cesca, hopeless, nerveless and heart-broken. 
 
 In an hour my sweet wife revived, in an hour the soft 
 and star-like light of those heavenly eyes was again cast 
 upon her husband-lover. But death was in their mild 
 beam. Her hours were numbered; before the Morning 
 Star glittered on high, she would be far away far, far 
 away in the Unknown and Silent Regions, whither I could 
 not go. While she was here, she was mine, and no man, 
 no power could come between her and me ; in a few fleet- 
 ing minutes I should no longer have dominion over her. 
 She would be the inhabitant of another realm the subject 
 of another sceptre, the lonely denizen of another sphere, 
 into which no mortal foot could enter. She stretched forth 
 her feeble hand, and touched my brow, and head, and cheek. 
 The magic of her touch penetrated me, as the touch of 
 Alia penetrated his apostle, Ahmed, the Ambassador of 
 the Most High. It ran through my being. It was like 
 the hand of Death but the hand of Death guided by un- 
 dying Love. 
 
 " Oh, Francesca ! Oh, my wife ! is it thus that we meet 
 again meeting but to be separated forever ? Thou knowest 
 my agony ; yet see it not, but pass in peace."
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 513 
 
 " Wortley," she said, " my own love, better is it that I 
 should die at once, than live longer to be the sport of 
 chance. From my childhood upward, what have I known 
 but wretchedness ? I am one of those doomed to be un- 
 lucky nay, look not so, for there are many who are fated 
 to be unhappy. Well did the Wise Man of the Hebrew 
 people say, ' The race is not to the swift ; nor the battle to 
 the strong.' Every day I have lived I have felt this to be 
 the truth. I am the daughter of ill-luck. It is better that 
 I should pass away." 
 
 " O, Francesca, sayest thou so ? Is this the justice of 
 Heaven to give to one the happiness which it withholds 
 from others ?" 
 
 " I know not," she answered ; " I cannot penetrate the 
 secret ordinances of God. I believe, I know, that He is 
 Most Just. But I know also that some are fortunate, and 
 others are unfortunate ; that there are many who pine and 
 toil, and are unhappy all their lives, while they possess the 
 noblest attributes of mankind ; while there are others who 
 reach the proudest heights of mortal glory, yet are the 
 lowest and most vicious of human beings. But God judges 
 not as we judge. He alone is Wise and All-knowing but 
 we are only poor blind moles, who see nothing truly. Glad, 
 therefore, am I, that I am passing away for I am of the 
 unlucky ; nor can I bring to others that which I possess 
 not myself. But thou, mine own, shalt be soon separated 
 from her, who gave thee no enjoyment." 
 
 " 0, Francesca, say not so. Thou wert my joy, my life, 
 my heaven on earth. Thou also didst first reconcile me to 
 existence ; thou alone didst first teach me to believe in a 
 God of Justice. Until I knew thee, I was as one who wan- 
 ders in a desert, who had no thought of God or the Future. 
 But when I learned thy gentle virtues, then was I convinced 
 that it was not chance, but a Supreme superior Power that 
 made thee what thou art ; the type of all that is pure, holy,
 
 514 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 sacred and exalted; and knowing thee, I first began to 
 know what God was and is." 
 
 She paused, and seemed buried in thought. Perhaps it 
 was weakness. 
 
 " Wortley," she said, " I am dying. In an hour I shall 
 be no more. The dagger has pierced me to the heart. We 
 shall be separated soon forever." 
 
 " Oh ! not forever," I cried, " say not, that it is forever." 
 
 She faintly smiled. " No," she answered, " not forever 
 we shall meet again above. But hearken now to what I 
 say. Thou wouldst know my history since we met; in 
 brief have it, for I cannot hold out long." 
 
 I begged her to hoard her strength; I endeavored to 
 cheer, to comfort her, to give her hope ; all my exertions 
 were vain. 
 
 " I am dying," she said, " dying fast. I feel my strength 
 momentarily going. The gate that lets my spirit out is 
 open. Hearken to me before I die." 
 
 "Thou rememberest our last parting alas ! we dreamed 
 not that it was our last. I sat up for thee late that night. 
 I counted the slow hours. I had got for thee the little 
 supper which thou wert wont to have ; I prepared it as of 
 old with m} r own hands, and sat by the fire, murmuring 
 the old ballads which we loved so well. The hours passed, 
 but thou didst not come. I heard St. Paujjfc strike twelve 
 the long funereal sound went into my soul like a death- 
 knell. Never before hadst thou been absent from me so 
 long never before had I so waited for thee in vain. The 
 fire was dying out, but I heaped fresh logs on, and strove 
 to sing, and strove to while away the lonely moments over 
 the songs of Tasso ; but an unknown gloom seized me. I 
 could no longer read or sing, or do otherwise than think ; 
 and all my thoughts were now grown dark and melancholy. 
 One o'clock, and thou wert not returned. The sound 
 entered my heart like a knife. Two three struck, and
 
 EDWABDWORTLKY MONTAGU. 615 
 
 then I thought thou hadst gone home with on of thy 
 friends, and so I considered no more about it, but retired 
 to bed. To bed but not to sleep. I tossed all the re- 
 mainder of the night uneasily on my pillow. In the morn- 
 ing I was up by six. He will return early to breakfast, I 
 said, and I prepared all for thee. The little bird sang in 
 his cage ; the little geraniums put forth their flowers ; but 
 bird and blossom were unheeded when thou wert awa} r . 
 Six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve. Oh ! 
 weary, weary, were those long hours! I now began to get 
 alarmed. It was evident that something unusual must 
 have happened. Thou wert not wont to leave thy poor 
 bird thus for any length of time thy poor lonely bird, 
 Francesca, that always pined when thou wert away. I 
 strove again to divert my thoughts by reading but I could 
 not. I seemed encircled by a dark cloud ; my eyes saw 
 blood ; my heart felt instinctively that there was something 
 nigh which would appal me. I strove to eat a morsel of 
 breakfast, but it was like a lump of fire in ray throat. I 
 could not swallow, so I went into a corner and cried. Yes, 
 Wortley, I cried for a whole hour. This relieved me. At 
 the end of that time, I heard a knock at my door. Judge 
 of my delight, my rapture, when it was a message from 
 thee a message from my own loved one, who had not for- 
 gotten me. 
 
 " Thou hadst been to Twickenham thou hadst sought 
 and seen thy father. Thou hadst confessed all he had 
 forgiven his prodigal son, and all was well. Thy mother 
 had joined her tears with his and thine ; never was there a 
 more happy union. It wanted only my presence to make 
 all perfect. I was to come at once. Thou didst apologize 
 for not hastening to accompany me, but thy father could 
 not bear to part with thee to leave his sight after so long 
 an absence was more than he could endure. Fancy my 
 joy. Conceive the heartfelt transport of my soul. Nay,
 
 516 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Wortley, my own darling love, blame me not that I believed 
 this tale. I was so sad, so excited at thine absence, that I 
 would have believed any thing that purported to come from 
 thee. In a few minutes I was ready. A hackney-coach 
 was at the door. I kissed the bed where thou hadst slept ; 
 the glass that thou hadst touched. I am going to him, I 
 said ; we shall be happy and united for evermore. Away, 
 wild thoughts ! torment me not ; with Wortley's love, my 
 life is heaven ; earth a paradise. 
 
 " I gave my glad news to the woman of the house, and 
 descended the stairs. The carriage was empty, but there 
 was a man with the driver. The latter touched his hat. 
 ' He is a friend, my lady,' he said, ' who has asked me to 
 give him a lift on the road. May I do so ? If not, he shall 
 go down.' 
 
 " I was so happy myself that I could not deny any thing 
 that another needed. 'By all means,' I said; 'I shall be 
 glad to serve him in his necessity. Drive on.' 
 
 "We went on rapidly. I did not know the road to 
 Twickenham, nor did I suspect any thing. I lay back in 
 the coach, immersed in happy, golden dreams. I was to 
 see my husband ; to embrace my new parents ; to take a 
 recognized place in society. For thy sake, my Wortley, I 
 was pleased. I cared not for the change on my own ac- 
 count ; I was happy with thee in a garret, or anywhere ; I 
 required not any thing but thy heart. That was my world ; 
 it was for that alone I lived. We stopped at a house on a 
 lone heath. It was a large house, but there was an air of 
 desolation about it. I had heard of thy father's parsi- 
 mony, and I supposed this desolate, wild place was in 
 accordance with it. But I wondered, as we drove up the 
 bare avenue that led to it, that I saw thee not. I hoped 
 for thy welcome presence. I thought thou wouldst rush 
 to meet me ; but the friendly eye and smile greeted not thy 
 fond wife. Presently, I thought, presently I shall be in
 
 EDWARD W OR XL BY MONTAGU. 517 
 
 his arms and shall forget all. We stopped at the door, 
 and the man who had come with the driver dismounted 
 and knocked. It seemed a long while before it was opened. 
 I was amazed to hear the sound of bolts and locks. It was 
 slowly unbarred ; it seemed a massive door, and moved 
 heavily on its hinges. A servant came out and bowed. I 
 descended and entered. As I did so, the man said, ' This 
 is the mad lady,' and disappeared. The door closed on 
 me, and I found myself in a vast and cheerless hall." 
 
 Here she paused ; exhaustion seemed to come upon her ; 
 she was half fainting ; when one of the Gitanos gave her a 
 cordial, which revived her. She endeavored to collect her 
 thoughts ; but I could see the damp dews of death upon 
 that sainted brow. Oh, how I cursed my fate I I writhed 
 in agony, but I repressed my feelings and was still. I 
 wonder my heart did not burst in twain. Would to God 
 that it had! 
 
 " My own Wortley," she said, u I have but little to add. 
 I was a prisoner. I was locked up and treated as an insane 
 person. When I spoke of you, I was laughed at. When I 
 endeavored to interest the woman who waited on me with 
 some allusions to the past, I was treated as a hopeless lu- 
 natic who was not to be noticed or listened to ; but every 
 word was to be regarded as an idle raving. I would will- 
 ingly shut it out from memory. To me it seemed an age ; 
 but I know not whether it was weeks or months. It was 
 all oblivion and death so long as I had not thee. What 
 weary days and nights I passed! What dreary hours did 
 I go through ! What spheres of lonely, desolate thought! 
 I sighed only for thee. I thought only of thee. I suppose 
 I was punished because I never thought of God. But thou 
 wert my God. Alas ! I ought not to have made any mortal 
 so. Yet even still as I tread the dark bridge that leads to 
 Eternity, I see thee only thee. Thou art my only star 
 my only hope my only heaven! Ah! me. What speak 
 33
 
 518 EDWARD WOKTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 I ? God forgive me ; but, Wortley, thou art my very soul 
 forever and ever." 
 
 She revived again, and resumed ; but her voice was now 
 more faint and sad than ever. The dark enemy of life had 
 made rapid approach within the last few minutes. 
 
 " One night, midnight it must have been, I was suddenly 
 called up and forced to dress. My clothes were huddled 
 on ; my trunk packed with the little that it contained ; and 
 I was put into a carriage. A man was inside, but I noted 
 him not. We drove oif rapidly. We drove for several 
 hours until the stars sank one by one out of the heavens, 
 and the morning dawned, bleak, cold, and gloomy. I was 
 utterly weak and nerveless. A feather would have knocked 
 me down. I now scanned my companion. He had re- 
 mained silent all the night, muffled up in a large cloak, but 
 it seemed he did so rather for warmth than to conceal him- 
 self; for I could observe no attempt to screen his face. 
 Thou wilt wonder who he was. It was Dom Balthazar. 
 [A cold pang shot through my soul, but I remained out- 
 wardly unmoved.] I looked at him long and earnestly 
 before I could be positive that it was he. At length, he 
 looked at me steadfastly, saying : 
 
 " ' Do you know me ?' 
 
 " ' Yes,' I said ; 4 you are Balthazar, the gypsy. 
 
 " ' The same,' he answered. ' Hast any thing to say to 
 me?' 
 
 " ' Why am I here ? Where is my husband ?' 
 
 " ' These are questions I cannot answer now. But you 
 are going to your husband. He has left England in search 
 of you. I only heard so last night. The moment I did, I 
 resolved to place you in his hands without further delay.' 
 
 " ' Balthazar,' I said, ' this is a lie. You do not mean to 
 take me to my husband.' 
 
 " He swore that he was telling me the truth ; he swore it 
 with such awful oaths that I half believed him. Alas 1
 
 EDWARD WORT LEY MONTAGU. 519 
 
 what will not powerful hope persuade the heart? Even 
 when we sink into the abyss of waters, and all around is 
 tempest, we do not quite despair of succor. I remained 
 silent in meditation. The man also spoke not. We 
 changed horses, and got to the river side ; I suppose it was 
 somewhere below London. I was now passive in his 
 hands. As we approached the place, he drew a 'pistol 
 and said: 
 
 "'You know me; I shall have no noise made. Your 
 true policy is to be silent; if not, you shall. I will do you 
 no hurt unless you compel me ; but if you do, I shall shoot 
 you on the instant, and I have prepared measures so that 
 it will appear you did it yourself.' 
 
 " I was terrified by his threats. I have since known that 
 they were foolish, and that I ought to have despised them 
 and called out at all hazards ; but, dear Wortley, all my 
 courage was gone. I had had neither food nor sleep. I 
 was beside a reckless, deadly villain, who I knew would 
 stop at nothing to gain his ends. I hoped to find some one 
 in the ship who would defend me from him. I went on 
 board, or rather I was taken on board, for I was so weak 
 that I could hardly walk. I was carried down into a cabin, 
 and left alone with a woman ; but I fainted, and when I 
 recovered I was in bed. 
 
 "I remember but little more. A long time passed a 
 long and gloomy time. I took no heed of it. Whether it 
 was days, or months, or years, it was all the same to me. 
 I was in a convent. I was surrounded by women who be- 
 sought me to take the veil, and spoke smooth words. But 
 I distrusted all their arts. Instinct whispered to me that 
 they were my foes, and I hearkened not to them. They 
 told me that thou hadst perished at sea, and that it was thy 
 dying command that I should take the veil; I believed 
 them not. I had now become so suspicious in all things, 
 that I trusted no one. Hour by hour this wretched impor-
 
 520 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 tunity continued ; my life was all miserable. At length I 
 said : ' Why should I be a nun ? I have no faith in your 
 religion ; I have a religion of ray own. Your creed is all 
 show ; my creed is of the heart within.' What more I said 
 I know not, but I was soon after taken to the Holy Office, 
 as it is called. I had spoken blasphemy ; those to whom I 
 had spoken it revealed it in confession, as they were bound 
 to do. The Inquisition never pardons words like these ; I 
 was brought before them, and mildly questioned. But 
 thou knowest their manner the mildness of the dove the 
 poison of the serpent. I answered little ; I learned that I 
 was condemned. I found by their questions, and by the 
 papers which they sent me to my cell, that I was unknown ; 
 I had been given over to them under a false name. Had 
 they known who I was, I suppose they would have sent me 
 elsewhere ; they would scarcely have risked placing me so 
 near thee. I bless God that they did so, for to die thus in 
 thine arms, my husband, is the sole pleasure I have had for 
 years. Oh ! better is it so to pass away than to have lived 
 a prisoner in a cell alone." 
 
 Again she fainted ; again the woman gave her that vivi- 
 fying cordial, and she strove to sit up, but she could not. 
 She opened her eyes, but saw me not. 
 
 " Wortley, my husband, where art thou ?" she said. "I 
 cannot see thee." 
 
 "I am here, Franceses; here by thy side;" and I guided 
 her hand to my face. 
 
 " 0, my husband ! bless thee bless thee ! But the last 
 minute is come. Would that I could see thee once again." 
 
 She stroked my face with her poor, feeble hand, as well 
 as she could, and fell back heavily on my arm. I laid her 
 gently down on the bed. All the women were dissolved in 
 tears. Her eyes were closed. We thought her gone for- 
 ever. But it was not so. She opened them in a little time,
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 521 
 
 and looked at me. A holy and immortal light beamed out 
 of them. 
 
 "God be blessed," she murmured, "He has heard my 
 prayer. My husband, I sec thee ; kiss me once more 
 thou knowest not how I have loved thee," and a smile 
 came over that innocent face. 
 
 I bent to kiss her ; and as I pressed my lips to hers, her 
 spirit parted. A bright and heavenly splendor illuminated 
 her face for a moment. It was like the Aurora light of the 
 northern heaven. It gleamed and was gone. She was no 
 more on earth. She was in the Infinite and Eternal. 
 
 What more occurred I know not. I fell down stricken 
 to the heart. When I regained my sense, they told me 
 that she had been buried a week. It was so. Fare thee 
 well, Francesca mine own my holy one but not forever. 
 In another Land of Beauty we shall meet. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 Now there remained but one duty, and that was ven- 
 geance. This I had sworn to have, and I did not like to 
 break a vow which I had once made. I inquired for Dom 
 Balthazar ; to my amazement I found that he had not left 
 Granada. I had supposed that he was far away, and that 
 1 should have had great difficulty in tracking him ; but 
 here he was within my reach, apparently determined to 
 fight it out whenever I felt inclined to give him the oppor- 
 tunity. Single combat with this wretch was not what he 
 merited. I resolved to kill him unrelentingly the first mo- 
 ment I could do so. On further inquiry I found, however, 
 that although he had not indeed left Granada, he was con-
 
 522 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 cealed in the Sierra Nevada, and was in hourly communi- 
 cation with the Gitanos. Some business of the last impor- 
 tance detained him, it was said : he was hastening to con- 
 clude it by every means ; and I was assured by my informant 
 one of the band on whom I could rely that he was in 
 agony of fear lest he should fall in with me, for his con- 
 science, perhaps his instinct, told him, that when we next 
 met, one or both of us must fall, and that our encounter 
 was to be war to the knife. I communicated with Bermu- 
 dez, and sought* his advice and assistance. That grave 
 commander mused and hesitated. 
 
 "My friend," he said, "that you are right in killing 
 Dom Balthazar cannot admit of any doubt. All the Vati- 
 can priests will absolve you, and even the Holy Office will 
 give you absolution for so virtuous a deed. There are two 
 ways of killing a man one is that in which whilst you 
 destroy him, you perish yourself; the other is that in which 
 while he perishes, 3 r ou 3 T ourself get off scot free. If you 
 are for the first of these you will have no trouble; you 
 have only to denounce him to the police as a murderer, 
 and he will be garroted, but you will be again locked up 
 for life in the Inquisition, or probably put to death for 
 having been mixed up in our little siege of Troy. For my 
 own part I don't approve of the first mode at all ; but 1 
 prefer the second course, which is the pleasantest in the 
 end." 
 
 " Captain," I answered, " I have no desire to bring my- 
 self within the hands of the priests again, and time presses. 
 We must all depart from this place, and speedity, or the 
 whole country Mill be upon us for our late affair. But jus- 
 tice imperatively demands that the man shall die ; and if 
 I cannot myself find him, I must then denounce the murder 
 to the authorities ; so that I destroy him, I disregard what 
 happens to myself. There are some things for which I 
 wish to live, and I will live if I can ; but be it life, or be it
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 523 
 
 death, Balthazar must perish. We two cannot live on the 
 same earth." 
 
 " I think," replied the Captain, "that it is always better 
 to live than go into the grave. It is a cold and lonely 
 place ; or if you have companions they are but a poor set 
 of worms. I applaud your resolution to keep yourself in 
 a whole skin ; and I equally think that Balthazar must die. 
 Indeed, it is now come to this that one of you must cease 
 to live for the security of the other. Neither of you can 
 sleep in peace. The next question is, How he must die ? I 
 know a friend who, for a small consideration, will stab him 
 when you say the word. Nay, for one like me, he will do 
 it out of pure pleasure." 
 
 "That would not do at all," I answered: "I mean to 
 stab him myself." 
 
 Captain Bermudez opened his eyes and laughed. He 
 shook my hand. 
 
 " By the Holy Virgin ! you are right," he said. " How 
 came I not to think of it ? Body o' me, but I grow as dull 
 as a monk." 
 
 And the gallant fellow laughed again, and rubbed his 
 great hands, and flung his arms around me, nnd kissed me 
 on either cheek. 
 
 Disengaging myself from his embrace, I inquired 
 
 " Can you bring me to the place where he is concealed ? 
 That is all I want." 
 
 " I do not know that I can," he rejoined. " The Sierra 
 Nevada is no small mountain, and it is full of nooks and 
 corners, and caverns since the hiding days of the Moors ; 
 eo that you might search for a hundred years and not find 
 your man. But fortune always leaves a door open. I will 
 put one of my best scouts upon his scent, and if the wit of 
 man can find him, he shall be found. Confide in me, Senor, 
 and all will be well. To an old dog you need not say <u, 
 tus. We shall ourselves leave this place In a few da/s to
 
 524 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAQU. 
 
 let our recent little pleasantry blow over ; but here, there 
 and everywhere you may command us." 
 
 I thanked the Captain, and waited eagerly for our next 
 meeting. He came to me on the following day about sun- 
 set. His eyes sparkled ; I knew that he was successful. 
 
 " Senor," he said, " I have found your man ; he is hidden 
 in the Mulhacen. From all I can discover he leaves Granada 
 in a day or two, never to return. He intends, we are told, 
 to sail over to Africa. Now, therefore, is your time, or 
 never. You can have two of my men as guides, and my 
 best mules or horses for your expedition. But you had best 
 set out to-night." 
 
 I thanked him with all my heart, and immediately got 
 ready. I borrowed a pair of pistols and a dagger, of finest 
 keenest steel, from Bermudez, and wrapping myself up in 
 a large cloak I started with my companion for the bandits' 
 quarters. We reached them about nine o'clock, and Ber- 
 mudez added to the scout, who had discovered the retreat 
 of Balthazar, our old friend Julian Eomea, who willingly 
 joined me in m} r holy expedition. They put up a quan- 
 tity of provisions, and we proceeded on our way at mid- 
 night. We took several mules, and three noble Andalu- 
 sian steeds. 
 
 I was now going on the most just and honorable expe- 
 dition that ever man had taken. The career of Balthazar 
 seemed to have been that of a villain from his cradle. By 
 his own account, he had dealt in blood and murder ever 
 since he could do any thing. Poison and the knife were 
 familiar to him. He was in truth a wild beast let loose 
 upon society. He had come in my path, and crossed me 
 from the basest and most mercenary motives; he had 
 vowed enmity against me without a single act of provoca- 
 tion, and he had carried out that enmity by driving me 
 from the gypsies, where I had so long been domesticated, 
 by plotting against my Francesca ; by forcing us to flight ;
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 525 
 
 by procuring my own confinement and her abduction ; and 
 finally by his cruel murder of my innocent wife in my very 
 presevice. My own fate would doubtless follow, unless I 
 purged the earth of such a wretch. His destruction, there- 
 fore, became my duty. I thought of Akiba, and the simi- 
 larity between this portion of our lives, and though my 
 moral feeling made me admire that astonishing sacrifice of 
 himself to duty, which Manasam's life had developed, my 
 judgment and my heart rebelled against any consideration 
 operating in this case on the side of mercy. " Is not re- 
 venge the law of nature?" I asked. And I thought of the 
 swallows and sparrows which I had seen and noted so 
 many j-ears before, when the guilty were punished even to 
 the death, by the instinctive justice that was in the very 
 birds. " Had Manasam been a man," I said, " he should 
 have smitten his brother to the heart, if in truth he knew 
 that his brother was a party to that foul and cruel wrong." 
 He should have acted like the wise and learned Akiba,*vho 
 destroyed all his foes, and in their blood appeared the 
 spirit of the murdered. 
 
 My companion, Julian, strove to amuse me, or to lead 
 me into conversation, but I was too much absorbed in 
 thoughts like these to attend to him, or to answer his re- 
 marks. The moon shone above us as an orb of silver 
 splendor, and lighted up the whole mountain with a soft 
 and gorgeous loveliness; but a sad and melancholy halo 
 seemed to wrap all things, and when I gazed upwards to 
 the stars they seemed to gleam over me with a cold, re- 
 proachful glance, which penetrated to my heart. But when 
 I looked before me, I knew that in the mountain dwelt that 
 fierce, relentless tiger, who had destroyed my hopes of 
 earthly happiness forever. I was resolved that no feeling 
 of pity or compunction should stay my hand until it was 
 red with his life-blood. We passed over the smaller hills, 
 that seemed like seas suddenly petrified, and reached a
 
 526 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 gentle slope, which is the first table land. "We rested our 
 mules beside a little spring, whose waters sparkled like dia- 
 monds over the green grass ; and as the sun now began to 
 rise, we could now clearty see the distant peak of Mulhacen, 
 where I knew my enemy was sleeping. How calm and holy 
 it looked ! the abode of innocence itself could not be more 
 still. While we refreshed ourselves, a huge viper stole out 
 of some adjacent brushwood. He fixed his dark eyes upon 
 us and hissed fiercely, a greeting which our guide repaid 
 by thrusting him through the stomach with a swordstick. 
 Here a curious incident occurred. A little bird no bigger 
 than my finger had watched our proceedings very atten- 
 tivety. No sooner was the viper disabled than it flew up 
 with the feathers of its neck standing on end ; it flapped 
 its wings, and piped a strange and shrill note of exulta- 
 tion. Every time that any portion of the venomous beast 
 writhed convulsively, the bird shrank back in deadly fear ; 
 soon, however, it returned to the charge, and pecked the 
 viper with its beak, after which it would rise into the air 
 three or four feet, chirping loudly again and again. I do 
 not know what the serpent could have done in its lifetime 
 to the little bird, or what was the feeling of hatred we had 
 gratified by killing the viper ; but it is certain that I never 
 beheld such an amount of delight in any thing before. 
 
 " It is a good omen," said my companion, and I hailed 
 it as such. We mounted our mules, and proceeded onward 
 in silence. 
 
 The sun had now fully risen, and revealed to us the wild 
 and ragged aspect of the mountain. We could no longer 
 see the summit, for each separate table land hid all that 
 was above it ; but we could form an idea of the vast extent 
 over which we traversed. On every side were awful 
 chasms, deep down into the base of the mountain. I 
 looked into them, and longed to fling my foe headlong 
 from their tops, and so suspend him half-alive on one of
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 527 
 
 the naked crags that rose up out of the bottom, until he 
 was devoured by snakes, or cats, or vultures. We crossed 
 a pass scarcely two feet wide, on either side of which 
 yawned one of these frightful abysses, but I scarcely saw 
 them. On and onward seemed to be the only thought of 
 my heart, and I believe I should have walked with naked 
 foot over a red-hot plank of iron spikes, without feeling 
 pain, if I had but beheld Dom Balthazar at the other end, 
 so ardent was my thirst for vengeance. The eagles rose 
 and screamed above our heads. I hailed the tutelary birds 
 with joy, and in their shrill clang I recognized, as it were, 
 a voice from heaven urging me to go on, on. 
 
 We were here met by a caravan of donkey drivers, de- 
 scending from the higher points of the mountain with their 
 panniers of snow. We stopped and questioned them. My 
 guide was the spokesman. Lifting his sombrero, and bow- 
 ing profoundly, he asked whether they had met any one 
 that morning on the upper hills. They answered no, but 
 on the day before they had seen a tall, dark man with a 
 great beard, who seemed watching the distant city with a 
 large glass, and was so intent that he did not even see them 
 pass. We bade them good-bye, and rode on. This was 
 Balthazar ; I knew him by the description. He was then 
 evidently alarmed. Probably he was even now on the 
 alert. Speed was necessary in rapidity of movement was 
 my only chance. We urged on our mules more quickly 
 than ever. The Andalusian horses which up to this were 
 led by a youth belonging to the band were tethered here, 
 so that we might have them fresh for our return. The hoy 
 stayed with them to watch. 
 
 The snowy region now appeared. We had got to tra- 
 verse a terrible wild of rocks and precipices, flung as it 
 were by the careless hand of some Titan upon the ascend- 
 ing slopes. It was as if a thousand Stonehenges were here 
 all massed into one confused ruin. We saw innumerable
 
 528 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 snakes and vipers, and disturbed a vast variety of birds, 
 whose shrill and angry cries disconcerted us a good deal. 
 They protested against our intrusion on their domains. 
 They seemed to hate the face of man. Had they but known 
 his heart as intimately as I have, they would have had 
 bitter reason to loathe his presence. 
 
 From this place we could see an immense rock, that rose 
 towering to the right. My guide pointed it out. 
 
 "In yonder nook," he said, "the man you seek abides. 
 If you speak, let it be in whispers. The thin air carries 
 the voice far, and your approach may be known before you 
 are quite ready. With a good rifle from yonder elevation, 
 the gypsy thief might easily shoot you to the heart. He 
 always goes armed." 
 
 With what a fierce exulting joy I fixed my eyes upon the 
 accursed dwelling of my foe. In an hour we should be 
 there ; in an hour I should grapple with the destroyer of 
 Francesca, and rid the world of his presence forever. Oh ! 
 that I had done it on that well-remembered night, when 
 his life was in my hands, and a touch of the trigger would 
 have prevented all these miseries I had undergone ; would 
 have preserved the life that was dearer to me than mine 
 own ; and given me happiness for all the future. It was 
 not to be ; and it was now too late to repine. We dis- 
 mounted again under the covert of some of the vast firs 
 with which the place was filled; our mules were sadly tired ; 
 we ourselves also were in need of refreshment, and we were 
 quite sure that if Balthazar had not already escaped, and 
 were in the mountain, he could not now elude us. We let our 
 mules browse freely, and gave ourselves up to the necessary 
 indulgence of food and rest. The sun was now in his 
 zenitli ; all was still and bright ; but the mountain air 
 cooled the beams that otherwise would have struck death. 
 We bathed our feet and brows in a gushing tarn, and were 
 again ready for the saddle.
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 529 
 
 " It seems to me," said Julian, " that the greatest caution 
 is now requisite. If we proceed further at present, we shall 
 one and all of us be picked off by this fellow's bullets, as 
 easily as a child may fling a stone against a wall. With 
 the elevation that he commands, and the front we shall 
 present, escape would be hopeless, and from what we awhile 
 ago heard, it is evident that the gypsy will not be caught 
 napping. Indeed, I should not wonder if he has already 
 discovered our approach with his telescope, and only waits 
 until we are within a safe distance for his rifle, to rid him- 
 self of all further apprehension or pursuit. What say you, 
 Senor?" 
 
 There was no disputing the sagacity of my companion's 
 remark. To wait was evidently the wisest and safest 
 course for ourselves ; but was it certain that while we were 
 so dilatory, the foe, supposing that he had discovered our 
 pursuit, would not make off by some other route, and rid 
 us of all further trouble about him ? Besides, I was now in 
 a state of wild and savage excitement. I felt as a hound 
 feels when he scents the track of the game. I longed to 
 see his blood, to dabble my hands in it, to see it flow on 
 the stones. I was become a perfect wild beast in my thirst 
 for vengeance. While my judgment, therefore, for a mo- 
 ment approved of the counsel of Julian, my passions stood 
 up against it, and after a brief pause I decided to proceed. 
 
 "Julian," I said, " I must go on. I should drop dead if 
 I were to remain here inactive until evening ; the very 
 anxiety of the delay would kill me. Whatever be the risk 
 I shall proceed. I feel a presentiment that I shall not die, 
 but that he will fall. Meanwhile, my friend, now that I 
 have my eye upon this tiger's den, suffer me to proceed 
 alone. I shall rejoin you when all is over." 
 
 Julian shook his head. 
 
 "No," said he, "I will not consent to this. How know 
 we that Balthazar has not friends with him who would over-
 
 530 EDWARD WOBTLBY MONTAGU. 
 
 power you with their numbers, and murder you in cold 
 blood ? And you are as yet only twenty-two. I pledge my 
 honor to you that, if he should be alone, I will not inter- 
 fere with your just revenge ; it shall be a fair combat be- 
 tween man and man. But if he has companions, I and my 
 brother here will aid you to the last gasp, and it shall not 
 be one life that they shall take, but three." 
 
 He said this with such a determined resolution, that I 
 saw it would be useless to argue him out of it ; I seized 
 him by the hand and thanked him. We said no more, but 
 got into our saddles and proceeded. 
 
 I felt at this moment as if every nerve were iron. I sat 
 upon my mule stiff as a statue of cold steel. I could not 
 feel my heart beat or my pulse throb, so calm and passion- 
 less was my condition. I went upon this, the final stage 
 of the hunt, as a judge goes upon the judgment-seat to con- 
 demn some hideous criminal to death for murder. It was 
 not as if I were going to rid a human being of life ; but to 
 trample out the existence of some noxious and pestiferous 
 beast, the foe alike of God and man, whom it was a posi- 
 tive blessing to the earth to slay. I could now no longer 
 judge of time or space. I knew not whether I rode or 
 walked ; I only found that I was impelled along towards 
 the lair where my foe was harbored. 
 
 From this reverie I was aroused by a sudden cry from 
 my companion, and looking up I saw Dom Balthazar, who 
 was standing with his back against a steep precipice, and 
 almost before I had seen him, my hat was pierced by a 
 bullet, and in a moment after, my mule fell dead beneath 
 me from a second shot. Julian instantly dismounted to 
 give me up the creature which he himself had ridden, but 
 before he could do so, the mule reared on its haunches, and 
 fell shot through the very brain. Balthazar again aimed at 
 us the fourth time; but Julian now fired, and this or some- 
 thing else unnerved him for the moment, for his shot passed
 
 BDWABD WOKTLEY MONTAGU. 531 
 
 harmlessly over our heads, and he retreated behind his 
 rock, apparently for the purpose of loading again. We 
 now lost no time, but charged up the slope. To our sur- 
 prise, no fifth shot was fired, but when we reached the 
 place, we saw Balthazar already half a mile off, mounted on 
 a splendid mule and fully armed. The creature seemed to 
 know the road well, and went forward with a sure foot ; 
 but as it was necessary for his rider to get into the route 
 by which we had ourselves ascended, lie came gradually 
 nearer and nearer to us, as he made the circuit, and when 
 he was within pistol range, I fired, but missed, and the 
 mule alone was hit. She reared and threw him, and then 
 fell ; but he was evidently unhurt, and he stopped to un- 
 strap the carbines from her side. We now rushed down 
 upon him, and were so close that he lost his coolness, and 
 he ran off, leaving his fire-arms behind him, but still for- 
 midable with a sword and dagger. He descended the 
 mountain with the speed of a hunted deer. We pursued 
 him, but not with equal quickness, for we were a good deal 
 fatigued by our long journey. Quick and quick, almost as 
 the very thought, he rushed headlong, leaping wildly over all 
 impending obstacles, and we could see he distanced us con- 
 siderably. At length he got to the place where we had left 
 the Andalusian steeds tethered. Balthazar immediately 
 perceived the value of this discovery. Striking down with 
 a terrible blow the boy who attempted to prevent him seiz- 
 ing the horses, he unsheathed his sword, and having ham- 
 strung two of these splendid creatures, he mounted the 
 third, and disappeared almost in the twinkle of an eye. 
 Here was a catastrophe wholly unexpected the very 
 means we had provided for our safety being used against 
 us by this vigilant knave. One mule only remained, and 
 this I mounted, determined to overtake him or perish. 
 Lashing the beast into a fury, we went along with a terrific 
 speed, such as I had never before seen put forth by such n
 
 532 EDWARD W OUTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 creature; but I had made it mad, and it scarcely knew 
 what it did, or whither it was borne. I myself was per- 
 fectly insane. We crossed fearful chasms, and rattled 
 down the steep mountain side, as you may see the burning 
 lava dash when all Mount Etna is in flame and the moon is 
 red as blood. Fire flashed out of every flint dust and 
 smoke were mingled; through stream and underwood we 
 rushed. The whole scene before me seemed to wave and 
 roll and whirl. The distant Yega stretched out like one 
 vast boiling ocean, and was now near, now afar off; now 
 clothed in blackness, now mantling with sunny light. I saw 
 a hundred mocking fiends between m3 r self and Balthazar ; 
 a hundred figures seemed to rise out of the very stones, and 
 laugh me to scorn, and struggle to impede my wild pursuit. 
 Methought also that I heard borne backward by the breeze 
 the disdainful shouts of my foe, as he urged on his fiery 
 courser, and bade defiance to all my threats. 
 
 Hope arose within my heart. We were approaching the 
 place where Captain Bermudez and his friends were lodged, 
 and I doubted not that a bullet from some friendly hand 
 would stop the course either of the horse or his rider. My 
 mule was now getting beat ; the steed of Arab blood had 
 distanced her; and, albeit occasionally I caught a glimpse 
 of Balthazar, I was guided in my pursuit rather by the 
 thunder of his flying courser than by any other indication 
 that I was on the right track. Though I could see from 
 afar off that we were right in the bandit's course, no sign 
 of stoppage was presented. On the contrary, Balthazar 
 appeared at the extreme end, having safety passed through 
 the bandit's bivouac. I urged my wearied mule more and 
 more, but more and more she faltered in the race. At 
 length, as I galloped madly down a narrow bridle-road, 
 through which I could still hear the far-retreating echoes 
 of the Andalusian's hoofs and iron shoes, the mulo stag- 
 gered, groaned, and would have fallen headlong had I not
 
 EDWARD WORTLBY MONTAGU. 633 
 
 supported her with a tight rein, and checked her terrible 
 course. Scarcely had I stayed her and dismounted, when 
 she fell dead before me; her heart was broken in the fear- 
 ful race. I lost no time in pressing onward. The first 
 person I saw was Captain Bermudez. In a few moments I 
 told him all. He chafed furiously over his hamstrung 
 steeds, nor was he less enraged about that which Balthazar 
 was so unceremoniously using; but he ordered out the 
 finest stallion he possessed, and forcing some wine down 
 my throat, he mounted me again, and bade me God speed ! 
 "I would have shot the fellow as he passed," he said; 
 "but I know revenge is sweet, and I would not deprive 
 you of the heavenly morsel," and I was glad he would not. 
 Now I was mounted like a king. Never was a nobler 
 steed than that which my friend Bermudez owned. His 
 Arab blood was imaged in his eye, so bright, so calm, so 
 noble, yet so full of orient fire. He might have carried 
 Mohammed, when that Mighty Prophet bore at Bedir the 
 thunders of the God of Truth, and gave the first blow to 
 that widespread atheism of the East, which had so long de- 
 veloped itself in idol worship and sorcery. Such a steed 
 was Pegasus, when, with wings flashing ten thousand splen- 
 dors, he soared in heaven, and every tenant of Olympus 
 envied his haughty rider. Such a steed was the bull-headed 
 horse that carried Alexander to conquest, and bore him 
 safely through a thousand perils. He was dark as night ; 
 his coat was smooth and glossy as opal or Venetian glass ; 
 his arched neck was like the horse in Job, clothed and girt 
 with thunders ; his haughty nostrils breathed ethereal 
 flame. Nay, by the gods, I do not exaggerate. No praise 
 can be too great for me to give this splendid animal. I 
 have loved and honored the horse ever since that day for 
 his sake, and I never until then appreciated the deep wis- 
 dom of Swift's adventurous traveller, who, like Ulysses, 
 though he had seen and known the customs of BO many 
 34
 
 534 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 Btrange people, yet found all the virtues under heaven only 
 in the horse. In a few words Bermudez told him what I 
 meant that I was following a fiend, and must perish or 
 destroy him ; and he patted his neck and pinched his ears, 
 and "bade him be my friend in all I did. Right well, O 
 noble Selim, didst thou understand thy master's words. 
 He pawed proudly ere I mounted him ; he turned upon me 
 his eyes of full and bright intelligence, and when I was 
 seated on his back, he moved forward with a stately grace 
 that passed almost from a trot into the speed of a lightning 
 flash. A moment since I was with the bandits and now 
 where were they ? 
 
 On, on, and we were at Albaycin. The perforated cav- 
 erns of the Gitanos, crowned with Indian fig-trees and 
 shrubs of emerald-green, passed before my eyes like a 
 quickly-moving panorama. I had a short glimpse of hun- 
 dreds and hundreds of dark-eyed children rolling before 
 their mothers' doors, or crowning each other with flowers ; 
 but, like a flashing meteor, I was there and gone; and, 
 though my brethren rushed in crowds to see me, attracted 
 by the thundering noise of my horse's hoofs, I can only 
 recollect all that then occurred like a nightmare dream. I 
 had now wholly lost sight of Dom Balthazar, but some of 
 the Gitanos had pointed out the road that he had taken, 
 and it was that precisely which I supposed he would 
 pursue. It was in the direction of San^Roque, from which, 
 as I supposed, he might possibly obtain a passage on 
 board ship, and thus effectually baffle me for the present. 
 Now I had got outside Granada, and was in the glorious 
 Vega, over which I passed like fire, inquiring of every pas- 
 senger whether a flying horseman was in front, and receiv- 
 ing satisfactory proof in every answer that I had followed 
 the right course, and must soon overtake my man. The 
 crops were in full perfection, and might easily have afforded 
 him a hiding place, for they were full seven feet high ; but
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAOU. 635 
 
 I was so careful in my inquiries, and the answers to all 
 tallied so well, that I had no doubt he was still in the high 
 road ahead, and he had already slacked hid horse's speed, 
 so confident was he that my mule had failed, or speedily 
 must do so. Now I passed La Mala, and over that wretched 
 road and gloomy country which lies between that and 
 Huelma, passed in less than twenty minutes, cheering my 
 noble steed, and patting him on neck and head, until I felt 
 that in. every iierve and vein he fully sympathized with his 
 rider. 
 
 Yes, by Alia I it was a glorious hunt. I likened myself 
 to an avenging Angel pursuing some odious demon. My 
 brain swam with hot excitement a thousand glorious 
 purple flashing thoughts darted across it, as I beheld the 
 earth and heaven, the mountain and the river, dance as it 
 were before me, or commingle into one mighty chaos, 
 through which I saw only one distinct being, and that the 
 object of my pursuit. The splendid epic recollections of 
 the past rose before me, and I was by turns every god and 
 hero I had heard or read of, from the Orient Kustam to 
 the Western Rinaldo. Now I was Jove, following the 
 Titans with avenging thunderbolts, and hurling the awful 
 lightnings of the spheres ; now I was Apollo in his sun- 
 gleaming chariot, riding in the path of heaven ; now I was 
 Phaethon, whirled onwards in a track of flame ; or Hector, 
 following the flying Greeks, and dealing death at every 
 stroke; or the swiftly striding son of Peleus, when he 
 came forth like a tempest to wreak revenge for the slain 
 Patroclus ; again I compared myself to the Erynnes, that 
 chased the murderous Orestes, and on his guilty eye 
 waved their flickering torches ; or to Medea, when having 
 slain her fated offspring by the son of JCson, she rose in 
 dragon-harnessed car and soared homewards through the 
 startled heaven 
 
 Away ; away ; away ; and as my gallant steed heard the
 
 536 EDWARD WOBTLET MONTAGU. 
 
 word, he seemed to fly over the ground. I had no need to 
 guide him with the rein, or urge him with the heel. With 
 the quick intelligence of his kind, he thoroughly under- 
 stood my motive and my heart. Yes ! thou glorious child 
 of the desert, I see in thy shining eyes, and haughty neck, 
 that thou also dost hate this accursed wretch; thy blood 
 is up against him ; thou knowest that he has wronged me, 
 and that he merits death. Even now thy brain pants with 
 the anticipated rapture of my revenge. Thou shalt be 
 known to all time; thou shalt be honored as the most 
 glorious steed. Away; away; away; and like a comet we 
 were borne, scarcely touching the ignoble earth, but armed, 
 and winged, and swelling with exultant joy and hope, we 
 outstripped the very winds in speed. 
 
 What object stops me in my path ? It is a woman and 
 a child; they are lying straight before me. Are they 
 asleep or dead ? Stay, stay, thou noble steed. Let us not 
 trample down the slumberers. Mayhap the fiery heat has 
 stricken them, and they are resting fatigued after a hard 
 day's wandering. Stay, stay, and I reined him in, but 
 gently, gently, for his Arab blood was up, and it was with 
 difficulty that he could even stay himself. But when the 
 beast of noble heart saw my object, and that in the narrow 
 path we must crush the prostrate woman and her babe if 
 we stopped not, he needed no further word from me, but 
 gradually subsided into a gentle trot, and from that into a 
 slow but haughty pace. No, not even for my sacred ven- 
 geance will I forget the rights that even the lowliest claim. 
 She was lying in the middle of the bridle-path it was no 
 better. A deep wound was in her head, from which the 
 blood was flowing freely. She was a beggar God help 
 her! and had wandered hither from Gibraltar with her 
 babe. She told me she had seen Dom Balthazar, and had 
 endeavored to get out of his way, but failing, she had lifted 
 her hands to warn him, but he had ridden her down with 
 the relentless fury of a beast of prey. Good heavens ! how
 
 EDWARD WORTLET MONTAGU. 537 
 
 my rage rose ! The baby was killed ; its brain was spat- 
 tered on the rough stones ; she herself, in striving to pro- 
 tect the innocent infant, was hurled against a heap of rock 
 and rendered senseless ; but the rider laughed, she said, 
 and heedless of her screams, urged his reeking steed yet 
 faster. I could not linger long but I endeavored all I 
 could to soothe the poor mother's heart. I had a few 
 silver coins which I bestowed on her; but she regarded 
 only her dead baby, with a kind of stupor of grief, that 
 filled my heart with black, undying rage. On, Selim, on- 
 ward yet onward ! onward ! brave and gallant steed ; let 
 us stay the mad career of this unpitying demon. 
 
 The sun was setting as I rode into Huelma, and baited 
 for a short space at the solitary inn. I inquired after my 
 flying foe ; he had passed through the town an hour before, 
 both horse and man evidently fatigued, but had only sta}-ed 
 two or three moments to procure some wine and brandy, 
 and a draught for his panting steed. He had told the 
 people he was an Englishman pursued by robbers, but 
 nobody believed his story ; and when I briefly mentioned 
 his crime and my pursuit, concluding with his wanton 
 murder of the innocent child, I was hailed with shouts and 
 vivas, and God bless you, quite sufficient for my vanity, 
 if vanity I had. From this place to Alhama, which is the 
 next town, is fifteen miles, and these I got over so rapidly, 
 though the town itself is on the summit of a mountain 
 peak, that I learned that Dom Balthazar had but left at 
 one gate of the town as I entered at the other. It waa at this 
 time nearly night ; but still I determined to go on until I 
 came up with him. There was a steep descending road of 
 some miles, through horrible passes, aud even deserts, 
 bounded on the one side by the sea, and on the other by a 
 secluded valley, where witches might have dwelt and held 
 their horrid orgies. The moon was up, the stars were 
 overhead, and I could see before me to a great extent. 
 Judge of my joy when, about four miles in front, and in
 
 538 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 an open path, on which the light descended brightly, I saw 
 Dom Balthazar ridiug leisurely down the iacline, as if there 
 were no such creatures as Arab steeds and avenging 
 Englishmen in existence. The sight drove me mad with 
 excitement, and though I was now sorely fatigued, the 
 hope that this desperate pursuit was drawing to a close 
 revived me with new vigor, and patting the neck of my 
 glorious horse, he rose under me with redoubled energy 
 and power, and visibly gained on the retreating enemy. 
 Oh, blessed moon, still shine on me as now, and soon shall 
 I overtake this ftying assassin ! and ye, stars, lend me 
 still your virgin light ! Francesca's name crossed my lips, 
 and at that blessed word I felt new courage, new hope, 
 new certainty. I was within a mile of Balthazar before 
 he knew that I was nigh. 
 
 Oh ! how he fled ! God in heaven, there is indeed a con- 
 science and a fear even in the most hellish-hearted. Aye, 
 aye, disguise it from thee as thou wilt, wicked one, thou 
 knowest in thine inmost soul the mighty power of Heaven 
 and truth and innocence. Thou maj^est laugh their holy 
 names to scorn in thy drunken moments with thy mad com- 
 panions, but, when thou art alone at midnight, with the 
 stars of light above, the solemn silence of the hour around, 
 the visible presence of the Infinite and Unknown above 
 thee, over thce, and all-embracing, then indeed thou con- 
 fessest their power, and art constrained to bow before their 
 awful sanctity. So felt this horrid wretch. Casting one 
 quick and fearful glance backwards, he saw the Just 
 Avenger on his track. I could feel magnetically that he 
 shuddered even to his heart's core. I could feel as it were 
 in my own vital being that a mighty arrow had gone forth 
 from me and smitten him with icy coldness. He fled, but 
 his steed evidently flagged ; and when my glorious Selim 
 knew that the hated enemy was at hand, he snorted like a 
 mighty spirit of thunder, and redoubled his fierce pursuit. 
 He tore up the earth, he flung the stones beneath his feet
 
 EDWARD WORTLEY MONTAOU. 539 
 
 like so many straws, the ground flashed in the dark night 
 as if the Cyclops were beating it with their steel hammers. 
 The rapidity, the dreadful energy of his wild course was 
 something supernatural. He seemed animated by a spirit 
 which belonged not to the earth. The whole landscape ran 
 past me ; it whirled in mine eye and was gone. I was no 
 longer master of myself. The demoniac wildness of my 
 horse entered into and became part of my own being. I 
 was the Wild Huntsman of the Black Forest. I was bent 
 on Death, and I fled with the speed of Death. I lifted up 
 my eyes to heaven, and the stars themselves whirled by and 
 were outstript. I was close upon him, and my heart began 
 at length to beat. 
 
 The final struggle evidently was at hand. I knew that 
 we must meet for life or death in less than half-an-hour, and 
 I rejoiced that the encounter was so near. Balthazar had 
 evidently no relish for fighting. On the contrary, the mo- 
 ment that he heard my horse's hoofs, and, looking back, 
 guessed, by the uncertain light, that I was on his track, he 
 urged on his jaded steed as hardly as he could, hoping to 
 reach Velez, where he might probably claim the aid of the 
 authorities, and involve me in fresh troubles. He reckoned 
 without his host in this. I gained upon him so rapidly 
 that he struck out of the high road and fled across the 
 country, making towards the terrible deserts of the Sierra 
 de Tepida, where doubtless he hoped, from his knowledge 
 of the place, to bewilder and mislead me. The sky now 
 became overcast, and I lost sight of him for some time ; I 
 could not even hear his horse's hoofs upon the soft herbage, 
 but my steed knew, as if by Divine instinct, that I was pur- 
 suing him to death, and I left to him to follow in the other 
 courser's footsteps, and admirably he did so. His sagacity 
 was perfect. The first moment that the moon emerged from 
 behind the cloud I saw we were close upon Balthazar, and 
 a more rugged, wild, or lonely scene could scarcely be pre- 
 sented than that which met my eye; for it was nothing but
 
 540 EDWARD WOBTLEY MONTAGU. 
 
 a medley of rocks and tors and hissing mountain-stieams, 
 with scarcely any vegetation the ver} r place that a bravo 
 would select for a murder or a novelist for a ghost story. 
 Nature herself seemed to have heaped every given accessory 
 about it that could lend to solitude and desolation their 
 most imposing features. 
 
 " In this place," I said, " shall this man die; and fit it is 
 for such a fiend. The vulture and the wolf shall have his 
 body ; as for his soul, the devil will take care of that." 
 
 His horse was now wholly knocked up, and could not 
 move a foot farther. All further flight was useless. He 
 whirled round and faced me. He was deadly pale; but 
 his eyes were an image of hell fire. In his hand he held a 
 sword ; he had no firearms : this was perhaps lucky for 
 me; but Satan generally deserts these fellows in the end, 
 and they want the very implement of devildom which would 
 serve them most. His courage was as usual unflinching, 
 and as he could not murder, he resolved to fight me. He 
 remained on his steed awaiting my attack. He had not 
 long to do so. My horse was already going at a furious 
 pace, and I resolved not to check him. On the contrary, 
 I had no doubt I should bear him down like a whirlwind 
 before me. So far, therefore, from reining in my steed, 1 
 urged him still more resolutely with voice, and hand, and 
 heel, and rode him right against Balthazar. The shock 
 was dreadful. He flew out of the saddle like a rocket, and 
 fell heavily on the ground. As he did so, the sword which 
 he held still in his hand entered his heart, and he was dead 
 in an instant. Thus perished Dom Balthazar. I left him 
 to the wolves, and rode back to Granada, much more satis- 
 fied than when I left it. I was cool enough to lead back to 
 Captain Bermudez the footsore Arab, which the dead devil 
 had run away with; and we both rejoiced merrily over 
 many a flask of sunny Val de Penas. 
 
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 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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 DA Montagu - 
 
 501 Autobiography 
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 APR 4 1961 
 
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