' ' ' '..' / venture
 
 TALES OF ADVENTURE 
 
 AND 
 
 STORIES OF TRAVEL
 
 THE COUNTES3 OF BLES3INGTON. 
 BY E. T. PARRIS.
 
 TALES OF ADVENTUEE 
 
 AND 
 
 STORIES OF TRAVEL 
 
 OF FIFTY YEARS AGO 
 
 ILLUSTEATED WITH TWENTY PLATES 
 FEOM 'THE ANNUALS' 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAMPSON LOW, MAKSTON AND COMPANY 
 
 LIMITED 
 
 St. JDunstan's Ijousc 
 FETTEB LANE, FLEET STREET, E.G. 
 
 1893 
 
 rightt reserved
 
 PBEFACE 
 
 THESE TALES or ADVENTURE AND STORIES OF TRAVEL 
 have been gleaned from many volumes of the ' Annuals ' 
 which were so much the rage between fifty and sixty 
 years ago. Although there was much that was trivial 
 in them, and amateur writers rather than literary men 
 filled most of the pages with their contributions, yet 
 among the three hundred volumes that were published 
 between the years 1823 and 1850 there were sure to 
 be some literary efforts deserving of a better fate than 
 to be buried with the rest. 
 
 And in my endeavour to select some of the worthiest 
 of these stories I have found that the personal accounts 
 of travels and a few historical tales have been the best 
 
 2017695
 
 VI PREFACE 
 
 written and most interesting. I have added a few pages 
 of poetry, though these, I must confess, were chosen 
 more to explain the accompanying plates than for any 
 other reason. 
 
 And it is of these plates I would say a few words. 
 If on no other account, the editors of the ' Annuals ' 
 demand our cordial thanks, since everyone must ac- 
 knowledge that they raised the standard of copper- 
 plate engraving (or, rather, engraving on steel) from a 
 very low point to, we may say, the acme of perfection. 
 We shall never see again such a work as ' The Cruci- 
 fixion,' engraved by H. Le Keux, after John Martin; 
 or the ' Eouen,' by W. Miller, or ' Lake Nemi,' by 
 J. Cousen, after Turner: even the painter himself 
 grumbler as he was acknowledged their excellence. 
 From a hundred to a hundred and eighty pounds were 
 paid to Le Keux and the other artists for engraving 
 these little plates, no larger than your hand, and they 
 were well worth the money. Some day proof impres- 
 sions of these splendid examples of a nearly lost art 
 will be sought for by collectors, as Rembrandt etchings 
 are at the present day. Many efforts were made to 
 find the original steel-plates on which these engravings 
 were made unfortunately, with little success. It ap- 
 pears that most of them were sold for exportation to 
 America and Australia. 
 
 In order to preserve a record of the 'Annuals,' I give 
 a list, nparly perfect, of all that were published. 
 
 J. C.
 
 THE ANNUALS 
 
 THEIR EDITORS AND THEIR PUBLISHERS 
 
 THE FOKGET-ME-NOT. 1823-1847. 
 
 Edited by H. Shoberl. Published by Rudolph Ackermann. 
 
 FKIENDSHIP'S OFFEBING. 1824-1844. 
 
 Edited by T. Pringle and others. Published by Smith & Elder. 
 
 LITEBAKY SOUVENIR : CABINET OF MODERN ART. 1825-1837. 
 
 Edited by Alaric Watts. Published by Longmans and others. 
 
 THE AMULET. 182C-1837. 
 
 Edited by S. C. Hall. Published by Westley & Davis. 
 
 THE BlJOU. 1828-1830. 
 
 Edited by Sir Harris Nicolas (?). Published by W. Pickering. 
 
 WINTER'S WREATH. 1828-1832. 
 
 Edited by George Smith. Published by G. Smith. 
 
 THE KEEPSAKE. 1828-1857. 
 
 Edited by the Countess of Blessington and others. Published by 
 Longmans and David Bogue. 
 
 THE ANNIVERSARY. 1829. 
 
 Edited by Allan Cunningham. Published by John Sharpe, 
 
 THE TALISMAN. 1829. 
 
 Edited by Elam Bliss. Published by Bliss (N. Y.).
 
 Viil THE ANNUALS 
 
 THE GEM. 1829-1832. 
 
 Edited by W. Marshall (?). Published by W. Marshall. 
 
 THE IBIS. 1830. 
 
 Edited by Rev. T. Dale. Published by Sampson Low. 
 
 LANDSCAPE ANNUAL. 1830-1839. 
 
 Edited by Thomas Roscoe. Published by Jennings & Chaplin. 
 
 HOOD'S COMIC ANNUAL. 1830-1839, and 1842. 
 
 Edited by T. Hood. Published by A. H. Baily and others. 
 
 THE CAMEO, 
 
 Edited by W. Pickering. Published by Pickering. 
 
 THE EEMEMBBANCE. issi. 
 
 Edited by T. Roscoe. Published by Jennings & Chaplin. 
 
 THE TALISMAN. 1831. 
 
 Edited by Zillah Watts. Published by Whittaker & Co, 
 
 THE COMIC OFFERING. 1 831-1832. * 
 
 Edited by Louisa H. Sheridan. Published by Smith & Elder. 
 
 THE BOTANIC ANNUAL. 1832. 
 
 Edited by Robert Mudie. Published by Cochrane. 
 
 THE AMETHYST. 1832-1834. 
 
 Edited by Dr. Hine. Published by Oliphant. 
 
 THE EASTER OFFERING. 1832. 
 
 Edited by Joseph Booker. Published by Booker. 
 
 PICTURESQUE ANNUAL. 1832-1845. 
 
 Edited by Leitch Ritchie. Published by Longman & Co. 
 
 DRAWING-ROOM SCRAP-BOOK. 1832-1852. 
 
 Edited by L. E. L. and others. Published by Fisher & Co. 
 
 AURORA BOREALIS. 1833. 
 
 Edited by W. Howitt. Published by Empson. 
 
 LANDSCAPE ALBUM. 1833-1834. 
 
 Edited by Charles Tilt. Published by C. Tilt.
 
 THEIR EDITORS AND THEIR PUBLISHERS ix 
 
 TURNER'S ANNUAL TOUK. 1833-1835. 
 
 Edited by Leitch Ritchie. Published by Longman & Co. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN KEEPSAKE. 1833-1840. 
 
 Edited by Rev. W. Ellis. Published by Fisher & Co. 
 THE BOOK OF BEAUTY. 1833-1849. 
 
 Edited by the Countess of Blessington and others. Published by 
 Longman & Co. 
 
 THE ORIENTAL ANNUAL. 1834-1840. 
 
 Edited by Rev. Hobart Gaunter. Published by Bull & Churton. 
 
 LANDSCAPE WREATH. 1835 (?). 
 
 Edited by Thomas Campbell. Published by Q. Virtue. 
 GEMS OP BEAUTY. (4to.) 1836-1840. 
 
 Edited by the Countess of Blessington. Published by Longman & Co. 
 
 CONTINENTAL LANDSCAPE ANNUAL. 1837-1838. 
 
 Edited by F. Fergusson. Published by H. Riley. 
 
 FINDEN'S TABLEAUX. (4to.) 1837-1844. 
 
 Edited by Miss Mitford and others. Published by Tilt. 
 
 THE HUNTERS' ANNUAL. 1838-1839. 
 
 Edited by A. H. Baily. Published by A. H. Baily & Co. 
 
 CHILDREN OF THE NOBILITY. (4to.) 1838-1841. 
 
 Edited by Mrs. Fairlie. Published by Hogarth (?). 
 
 FLOWERS OF LOVELINESS. (4to.) 1838-1841. 
 
 Edited by (?). Published by Ackennann & Co. 
 
 PORTRAITS OF THE FEMALE ARISTOCRACY. (4to.) 1840-1841. 
 
 Edited by W. Finden. Published by Hogarth. 
 
 THE PROTESTANT ANNUAL. 1841. 
 
 Edited by Charlotte Elizabeth. Published by Baisler. 
 
 THE CORONAL. 1846. 
 
 Edited by E. Lacey. Published by Lacey. 
 
 THE AMARANTH. (4to.) 1859. 
 
 Edited by T. K. Hervey. Published by A. H. Baily & Co.
 
 THE ANNUALS 
 
 JUVENILE ANNUALS 
 JUVENILE FOKGET-ME-NOT. i828-i83i. 
 
 Edited by Mrs. S. C. Hall. Published by Westley. 
 
 JUVENILE KEEPSAKE. 1829-1830. 
 
 Edited by T. Roscoe. Published by Hurst & Co. 
 
 CHEISTMAS-BOX. 1 830^1831. 
 
 Edited by W. Marshall. Published by Marshall. 
 
 JUVENILE FOKGET-ME-NOT. 1830-1835. 
 
 Edited by H. ShoberL Published by Ackermann. 
 
 THE EXCITEMENT. 1830-1845. 
 
 Edited by Eev. B. Jamieson. Published by Waugh & Innes, 
 
 JUVENILE SCBAP-BOOK. 1836-1850. 
 
 Edited by Agnes Strickland. Published by Fisher & Son. 
 
 \
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PREFACE. By the Editor v 
 
 THE ANNUALS ; THEIK EDITORS AND THEIR PUBLISHERS . . vii 
 
 THE ENTRY OF EDWARD THE BLACK PRINCE INTO LONDON. By 
 
 Sir Harris Nicolas 1 
 
 THE GARDEN OF BOCCACIO. By S. T. Coleridge . . . .12 
 
 THE FAMILY OF SIR THOMAS MORE ...... 16 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE KEGENT MURRAY. By Sir Walter Scott . 29 
 
 THE PALACE OF JUSTICE, BRUGES. By Thomas Roscoe . . 38 
 
 ON A LADY PLAYING THE GUITAR. By Barry Cornwall . . 44 
 
 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE, IN THE SUMMER OF 1839. By 
 
 Lord John Manners ........ 45 
 
 THE PLAZA REAL AND THE CATHEDRAL, SEVILLE, WITH THE PRO- 
 CESSION OF THE CORPUS CHRISTI CEREMONY. By TJiomas 
 
 Roscoe 68 
 
 ARAB THIEVES. From Adventures of Giovanni Finati, trans- 
 lated by W. J. Bankes 71 
 
 THE FAMILY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Letter from Sir Walter 
 
 Scott to Sir Adam Ferguson 76 
 
 THE LADY'S DREAM. A Spanish Serenade 80 
 
 To BE READ AT DUSK. By Charles Dickens . . . .81 
 
 LAKE NEMI. By Lord Byron 96 
 
 NARRATIVE OF AN ASCENT OF MONT BLANC IN AUGUST, 1830. 
 
 By the Hon. E. B. Wilbraham 98
 
 xii CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 HAPPY ANGLEKS. By W. M. Thackeray 115 
 
 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN. By J. B 117 
 
 THE NUPTIALS OF THE DOGE OF VENICE WITH THE ADRIATIC 
 
 SEA. By Lord Morpeth 138 
 
 ORIENTAL SPORTS. By the Eev. Hobart Gaunter, B.D. . . 142 
 
 THE STORM. By Adelaide Anne Procter 151 
 
 AN INTERESTING EVENT. By W. M. Thackeray . . . 153 
 
 A SUMMER DAY. By J. Dodds 162 
 
 KOUEN FROM ST. CATHERINE'S HELL. By J. C. . . . 166 
 
 WILLIAM COLLINS, E.A. By Richard Redgrave, R.A. . . 168 
 
 LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON. By William Howitt . . 174 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON . .... 178 
 
 THB BrvEH LOIRE AND THE CITY OF TOURS. By J. C. . 180
 
 LIST OF THE PLATES 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON (see page 178). From a 
 
 drawing by E. T. Parris Frontispiece 
 
 THH ENTRY OF THE BLACK PRINCE INTO LONDON. From 
 
 a drawing by F. P. Stephana/ .... To face p. 9 
 
 THE GARDEN OF BOCCACIO. From the painting by T. 
 
 Stothard,B.A 12 
 
 THE FAMILY OF SIR THOMAS MORE. From the painting 
 
 by Hans Holbein ,,21 
 
 THE DEATH OF THE REGENT MURRAY. From the 
 
 drawing by George Cattermole .... ,,34 
 
 THE INTERIOR OF THE PALACE OF JUSTICE, BRUGES. 
 
 From a drawing by Thomas Allom ... ,,40 
 
 ON A LADY PLAYING (LADY WALLSCOURT). From the 
 
 painting by Sir Thomas Lawrence, P.R.A. . . , r 44 
 
 THE PLAZA KEAL AND THE CATHEDRAL, SEVILLE. From 
 
 a drawing by David Roberts, R.A. ... ,,69 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT AND HIS FAMILY. From the paint- 
 ing by Sir David Wilkie, R.A ,,77 
 
 THE LADY'S DREAM. From the painting by Thomas 
 
 Stothard, R.A ,,80 
 
 LAKE NEMI. From the drawing by J. W. M. Turner, 
 
 R.A 9G 
 
 THE HAPPY ANGLERS. From a drawing by Emile 
 
 Wattier ,115 
 
 THE LEANING TOWER OF SARAGOSSA. From a drawing 
 
 by David Roberts, R.A ,,134
 
 XIV LIST OF THE PLATES 
 
 THE DUCAL PALACE, VENICE. From the drawing by 
 
 Samuel Prout To face p. 139 
 
 THE STORM. From a drawing by Henry Bright . 150 
 
 WINDSOB FOREST. From a drawing by William Leitch 
 
 and Robert Hills ,,162 
 
 BOUEN FROM ST. CATHERINE'S HILL. From the draw- 
 ing by J. W. M. Turner, R.A ,,167 
 
 EUSTIC CIVILITY. From the painting by William 
 
 Collins, R.A 171 
 
 LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON (L. E. L.) From the draw- 
 ing by Daniel Maclise, R.A. .... 174 
 
 THE EIVER LOIRE AND THE CITY OF TOURS. From 
 
 the drawing by J. W. M. Turner, R.A. . . 181
 
 THE ENTRY OF EDWARD THE BLACK 
 PRINCE INTO LONDON 
 
 BY SIR HARRIS NICOLAS 
 
 THE event which is so admirably illustrated in the accom- 
 panying engraving is, perhaps, the most glorious in the 
 annals of England : for history affords few examples of so 
 brilliant a triumph as the victory gained by Edward the 
 Black Prince over King John of France, near Poictiers, on 
 the 19th of September, 1356, or of such important results 
 as it produced. 
 
 It is not necessary to detail the circumstances which led 
 to the battle, the amazing disparity of numbers between 
 the two armies, the unrivalled prowess of the Black Prince 
 and his heroic followers, or the engagement itself, for these 
 facts are well known to every reader of English history. 
 The following remarks will, therefore, be confined to the 
 manner in which the French monarch was made prisoner, 
 his treatment by his conqueror, and his reception into 
 London. 
 
 Towards the close of the battle, when the success of the 
 English was no longer doubtful, the Prince of Wales 
 demanded of the two French marshals who were brought 
 to him if they knew what had become of their sovereign. 
 On being told that they believed he was either killed or 
 taken, the Prince directed the Earl of Warwick and Sir 
 
 B
 
 2 ENTRY OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
 
 Reginald Cobham to ascertain his fate. John, who had 
 performed deeds of personal courage sufficient to establish 
 the fame of the humblest esquire of his army, and had 
 received two wounds in the face, was at that moment in 
 considerable peril. Being driven nearly to the gates of 
 Poictiers, which were closed against him, and Sir Geoffrey 
 de Charny, the bearer of the sacred Oriflamme, who had 
 gallantly fought by his side the whole day, having at last 
 fallen, John became nearly overwhelmed by a crowd of 
 enemies/ The honour of capturing the French monarch, 
 and the pecuniary advantage which would arise from it, 
 naturally stimulated the courage of his foes to the utter- 
 most ; and his life was, for some time, in imminent danger. 
 But, undismayed by the multitude which pressed upon him, 
 John defended himself and his young son Prince Philip, 
 with incredible valour, long after all hope of rescue was at 
 an end. 
 
 The King of France was not, however, destined to sur- 
 render to an Englishman. Though two persons, among 
 many competitors, established strong claims to the distinc- 
 tion of having captured him, they were both natives of 
 provinces which had originally been, and have long since 
 again become, integral parts of the French monarchy ; and 
 if Froissart be correct, it was one of John's own traitorous 
 subjects who received his sword. The circumstance is best 
 described in that writer's own words : 
 
 ' Then there was a great crowd to take the King, and 
 such as knew him cried, " Sir, yield yourself, or else we 
 shall kill you." There was a knight of St. Omer's, retained 
 in pay by the King of England, called Sir Dennis Morbec, 
 who had served the Englishmen five years before, because 
 in his youth he had forfeited the realm of France, for a 
 murder which he committed at St. Omer's. It happened, 
 fortunately for him, that he was next to the King when 
 they were about to take him ; he stepped forth into the
 
 INTO LONDON 3 
 
 crowd, and, by the strength of his body and arms, came to 
 the French King, and said in good French 
 
 ' " Sir, surrender." 
 
 ' The King beheld the knight, and said, " To whom 
 shall I yield ? Where is my cousin, the Prince of Wales ; 
 if I could see him, I would speak with him." 
 
 ' Dennis answered and said, " Sir, he is not here, but 
 yield to me, and I will conduct you to him." 
 
 ' " Who are you 1 " quoth the King. 
 
 ' " Sir," answered he, " I am Dennis of Morbec, a knight 
 of Artois ; but I serve the King of England, because I am 
 banished the realm of France, and have forfeited all my 
 possessions there." 
 
 4 Then the King gave him his right gauntlet, saying, " I 
 will deliver myself to you." 
 
 ' There was a great number about the King : for every 
 man compelled him to say he had taken him, so that the 
 King could, not proceed, with his young son, the Lord 
 Philip, on account of the crowd.' 
 
 Morbec's right to his illustrious prisoner was disputed 
 on the field by no less than ten knights or esquires ; and 
 both John and his son were seriously inconvenienced, if 
 not endangered, by the manner in which they enforced 
 their claims. It appears that they had even taken the King 
 and the young Prince from Morbec by force ; and his 
 Majesty seems to have been roughly seized by the different 
 competitors, who, in their ardour to support their supposed 
 rights, forgot the respect due to his person. < The French 
 King,' says Froissart, 'was on foot and in great danger,' 
 when the Earl of Warwick and Sir Reginald Cobham, who 
 had been sent to seek him, arrived, ' for such as were most 
 powerful said, "I have taken him." 4( Nay," quoth 
 another, " I have taken him." So they contended who 
 should have him. Then the French King, to avoid that 
 danger, said, 44 Sirs, strive not : lead me and my son cour- 
 
 B2
 
 4 ENTRY OF THE BLACK PRIXCE 
 
 teously to my cousin the Prince, and quarrel not about the 
 taking of me, for I am a lord great enough to make you all 
 rich." The King's words somewhat appeased them : never- 
 theless, as they went they still continued to make a riot, 
 and challenged the taking of the King.' 
 
 Warwick and Cobham hastened to John's protection, 
 and in the Prince of Wales's name imperatively forbad any- 
 one to approach nearer to him, on pain of death. They 
 then dismounted from their horses ; and having shown the 
 same marks of deference and respect to the conquered 
 monarch as they would have done to their own sovereign 
 in his 'pride of place,' they conducted him to the Prince of 
 Wales. 
 
 The rules of chivalry, which imposed upon a conqueror 
 the duty of treating a vanquished enemy with extreme 
 courtesy, and which happily softened the rigours of war, 
 and had considerable influence on the rude manners of the 
 age, were certain of being faithfully observed by so generous 
 a Prince as Edward. He received John with the reverence 
 and delicacy which a regard for his valour and misfortunes, 
 no less than for his rank, inspired. Seeing him exhausted, 
 the Prince called for wine ; and taking it from the bearer, 
 he allowed no one to serve the King but himself. He 
 tendered him the cup upon his knee ; and the touching 
 spectacle was presented of a young conqueror, flushed with 
 victory and the heir to a throne, rendering the humblest 
 services to his father's rival within a few moments after he 
 had become his prisoner. Nor was Edward's conduct the 
 mere effect of impulse : for John was treated with equal 
 courtesy and deference during the whole period of his cap- 
 tivity. It was about noon when the King was made 
 prisoner. By the evening all the French nobles who sur- 
 vived the conflict were collected, the more distinguished of 
 whom consisted, besides the King of France and his son 
 Philip, of James of Bourbon, a prince of the blood ; the
 
 INTO LONDON 5 
 
 Archbishop of Sens, and more than forty noblemen of the 
 highest descent and richest domains in the kingdom. A 
 supper was prepared for John and many of his nobility, six 
 of the chief of whom sat with their sovereign at one table. 
 The Prince of Wales appeared as John's attendant, and, 
 when pressed by him to sit by his side, respectfully declined, 
 saying that he was unworthy to sit by so illustrious a 
 Prince, or, in other words, that he had not yet sufficiently 
 distinguished himself in arms. Anxious only to soothe his 
 feelings and reconcile him to his fate, Edward served him 
 at table, in the same manner as he had done his own father 
 after the surrender of Calais ; and he is stated by Froissart 
 to have addressed him in the kindest and most flattering 
 terms : 
 
 * Sir,' he said, ' for God s sake make no bad cheer, though 
 your will was not accomplished this day ; for, Sir, the King, 
 my father, will certainly bestow on you as much honour and 
 friendship as he can, and will agree with you so reasonably 
 that you shall ever after be friends ! and, Sir, I think you 
 ought to rejoice, though the battle be not as you wish, for 
 you have this day gained the high renown of prowess, and 
 have surpassed all others on your side in valour. Sir, I 
 say not this in raillery, for all our party, who saw every 
 man's deeds, agree in this, and give you the palm and 
 chaplet.' 
 
 If a modern French writer of the highest reputation 
 has not drawn the incident from his own fertile imagination, 
 rather than from the arid sources of history, the fortitude 
 with which John had hitherto borne his misfortune gave 
 way before the generosity of his conqueror. ' The tears,' 
 says Chateaubriant, ' burst from his eyes and mingled with 
 the marks of blood upon his cheeks.' In their respective 
 stations, all the prisoners received the same attention and 
 kindness from their ' masters ' the term then applied to 
 those who had received the sword of an enemy, without
 
 6 ENTRY OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
 
 any regard to their relative ranks. Truly indeed hag 
 Shakespeare described the Black Prince 
 
 In war was never lion rag'd more fierce ; 
 In peace was never gentle lamb more mild. 
 
 Nor is it surprising that his conduct should have induced 
 Edward the Third, indulging at once the feelings of a father 
 and of a knight, to declare that his son's behaviour to the 
 French King afforded him even more gratification than the 
 victory itself. 
 
 John was conveyed to Bordeaux, where he remained 
 until the following spring, during which time negotiations 
 for peace took place. The news of the victory of Poictiers 
 seems to have reached England early in October, about a 
 fortnight after it was gained ; and Geoffrey Hamelyn, a 
 gentleman of the Prince's chamber, who brought the intelli- 
 gence to England, presented the King with the French 
 monarch's tabard (or tunic) and bacinet, which were pro- 
 bably those he had worn during the conflict. Public 
 thanksgivings were ordered to be offered up throughout the 
 country, and, as might be expected, the event was hailed 
 with joy by all classes. Two remarkable letters from the 
 Black Prince, giving an account of his victory, are pre- 
 served, and the modesty and moderation which he showed 
 on every other occasion are therein conspicuous. The first 
 of those letters was written at Bordeaux, on the 22nd of 
 October, and was sent to the Bishop of Worcester by Sir 
 Roger Cottesford, one of his knights, wherein he attributed 
 his success, under Providence, to the bishop's prayers. He 
 enclosed a list of principal prisoners, and said that two 
 thousand four hundred and forty-five of the French men-at- 
 arms had fallen, and that one thousand nine hundred and 
 eighty were taken. The other letter was likewise written 
 at Bordeaux, on the 22nd of October, and was addressed 
 to the mayor, aldermen, and citizens of London, to whom
 
 INTO LONDON 7 
 
 it was conveyed by his chamberlain, Sir Neel Loring, one 
 of the original Knights of the Garter. With the exception 
 of the last passage, the letter, which is a long one, is filled 
 with an account of the proceedings of his army for some 
 time previous to the battle, which event the Prince described 
 in the following brief but striking manner : 
 
 ' The battle happened on the day before the eve of 
 Saint Matthew (i.e. 19th of September), and, praise be 
 to God ! the enemies were discomfited and the King 
 and his son taken ; and numerous other eminent persons 
 were taken and killed, as our very dear bachelor, Sir Neel 
 Loring, our chamberlain, the bearer of this, who had the 
 fullest knowledge, will more fully inform you than we 
 can write, to whom we wish you to give entire faith and 
 credence.' 
 
 Such, in the fourteenth century, when deeds were con- 
 sidered more eloquent than words, was the laconic despatch 
 of a hero, after defeating an army at least seven times as 
 numerous as his own, and taking a powerful king, his son, 
 and the flower of his nobility prisoners. If modern des- 
 patches bear as little resemblance to the Spartan brevity 
 and exemplary modesty of Edward's letters as to the im- 
 portance of his achievements, the conclusion, wherein the 
 Prince refers to the bearer for further information, is, 
 nevertheless as nearly as possible the style of the present 
 day. 
 
 As early as March in the following year, 1357, prepara- 
 tions were made for the arrival of the Prince of Wales and 
 the King of France in England. They were expected to 
 land at Plymouth, and the sheriff of Devonshire was 
 ordered to provide horses for the conveyance of them and 
 their suite. 
 
 On the 24th of April the Black Prince and some of the 
 most eminent of his followers, accompanied by the French 
 monarch and his son, sailed from Bordeaux. A ship was
 
 8 ENTRY OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
 
 assigned for the reception of the King and his retinue ; but 
 he was strictly guarded, in consequence of a report that an 
 attempt would be made to rescue him on the passage. In- 
 stead of landing at Plymouth, the ship passed that port ; 
 and the distinguished passengers disembarked at Sandwich 
 on the 5th of May, 1 at which place they remained two 
 days, to recover from the fatigue of the voyage. On the 
 8th and 9th they proceeded to Canterbury, where the con- 
 queror and the conquered alike made their offerings to the 
 shrine of Thomas a Becket. 
 
 As soon as Edward the Third heard of their arrival, he 
 commanded the Mayor of London to make every prepara- 
 tion for receiving them in the most distinguished manner. 
 From Canterbury the Prince and the French monarch 
 rode to Rochester ; on the following day they reached Dart- 
 ford ; and on the next day, Wednesday, the 24th of May, 
 they approached London. 
 
 In Southwark, the cortege was met by upwards of a 
 thousand of the principal citizens of London, on horseback, 
 headed by the Lord Mayor, and divided into their several 
 companies, which were distinguished by their respective 
 devices and banners, by whom they were conducted into the 
 metropolis. John, who wore his royal robes, was mounted 
 on a large white courser, in token, it is said, of sovereignty ; 
 whilst the Prince of Wales, with characteristic humility, 
 rode by his side on a small black horse. Philip, the young 
 French prince, was probably near his father, and must have 
 
 1 Authorities differ respecting the place at which the Prince and 
 the French King landed. They were evidently expected to disem- 
 bark at Plymouth, which would agree with the length of time that 
 elapsed between their arrival in England, on the 5th of May, and 
 the 24th, when they entered London. There are, however, strong 
 reasons for supposing that they landed at Sandwich, in which case 
 they must have remained nearly ten days at Canterbury. The 
 motive for so long a stay in that city must have been to allow time 
 for preparations for their reception in London.
 
 INTO LONDON 9 
 
 attracted universal sympathy. Having passed over London 
 Bridge, the cavalcade proceeded to Westminster ; but their 
 progress was so much impeded by the immense concourse 
 of people, that, though they arrived in London very early 
 in the morning, it was noon before they reached West- 
 minster Hall. 
 
 The citizens showed their gratification at the unusual 
 sight of a great monarch, the direst foe of their country, 
 appearing as the captive of the heir of their own sovereign, 
 by erecting triumphal arches, by filling the streets with 
 their richest plate and armour of all kinds, and by decorat- 
 ing their houses with the most valuable tapestry and silks. 
 The clergy, dressed in their full canonical habits, and bear- 
 ing crosiers, crosses, and censers, formed a conspicuous 
 part of the procession. Martial music, and the acclama- 
 tions of the populace, were relieved at intervals by hymns 
 of praise and thanksgiving ; and the outbursts of national 
 joy were thus subdued by the chastening ceremonies of 
 religion. Youth and age, the citizen, the lawyer, and the 
 churchman, alike forgetful of their vocations, mingled with 
 the throng. Chaplets of flowers were flung from the win- 
 dows and balconies by the fairest daughters of England ; 
 and beauty gave the warriors their best welcome in beaming 
 smiles. But the most interesting object of the day, the 
 ' observed of all observers,' was 
 
 The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 
 
 the Black Prince. His deportment showed neither exal- 
 tation nor pride ; and a desire to prevent his illustrious 
 prisoner from feeling mortification and distress seemed only 
 to possess his thoughts. John himself displayed through- 
 out this trying day that dignity and tranquillity which 
 great souls alone are capable of knowing in seasons of 
 adversity. When all the circumstances of this extraordinary 
 assemblage are considered, there is no difficulty in believing
 
 10 ENTRY OF THE BLACK PRINCE 
 
 the statement of those who were present, that it was the 
 most imposing spectacle ever witnessed in England. 
 
 It is this animated scene which the accomplished artist 
 has embodied in the engraving ; and when the paucity of 
 materials for such a picture are considered, it is no less 
 remarkable as a work of art than as an effort of imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 From the earliest times, the reception of a victorious 
 general, attended by his companions in arms and a long 
 train of prisoners, has always corresponded with the grati- 
 tude and admiration of his countrymen. In England, the 
 number of such ovations, on which contemporary chroniclers 
 have, with pardonable vanity, generally delighted to ex- 
 patiate, are proportionate to the prowess of her soldiers ; 
 but, unfortunately, the accounts handed down of the entry 
 of the Black Prince into London, after the battle of Poic- 
 tiers, are short and unsatisfactory. The historical painter, 
 who may be ambitious of producing a picture worthy of 
 the next great battle gained by an English monarch, will, 
 however, find abundant materials for his purpose, in the 
 full and graphic description of the entry of Henry the 
 Fifth into London, after the battle of Agincourt, by more 
 than one eye-witness of that gorgeous and exhilarating 
 event. 
 
 On reaching Westminster Hall, the Prince of Wales 
 conducted John to his father's presence. Edward was 
 seated on his throne, surrounded by many prelates and 
 barons, and vested in all the splendour of majesty. 
 
 After the captive monarch had made those reverences 
 which his situation demanded, Edward, touched with the 
 manly dignity with which his adversary supported his 
 misfortune, and animated by his own native generosity, 
 rose eagerly from his throne, and received him with the 
 same marks of respect and esteem as if choice had rendered 
 him his guest, instead of the chances of war his prisoner.
 
 INTO LONDON 11 
 
 The French King was sumptuously entertained, and 
 apartments were assigned to him in the palace at West- 
 minster until the Savoy could be got ready for his recep- 
 tion. He was afterwards removed to the castles of Hert- 
 ford, and Somerton, in Lincolnshire, and thence, in 
 March, 1360, to Berkhampstead Castle; and during the 
 whole of John's residence in England, which lasted upwards 
 of three years, he was treated with the attention due to 
 exalted rank and eminent valour in adversity.
 
 THE GARDEN OF BO CCA CIO 
 BY S. T. COLERIDGE 
 
 OF late, in one of those most weary hours, 
 When life seems emptied of all genial powers, 
 A dreary mood, which he who ne'er has known 
 May bless his happy lot, I sate alone ; 
 And, from the numbing spell to win relief, 
 Call'd on the PAST for thought of glee or grief. 
 In vain ! bereft alike of grief and glee, 
 I sate and cow'r'd o'er my own vacancy ! 
 And as I watched the dull continuous ache, 
 Which, all else slumb'ring, seem'd alone to wake, 
 
 Friend ! long wont to notice yet conceal, 
 And soothe by silence what words cannot heal, 
 
 1 but half saw that quiet hand of thine 
 Place on my desk this exquisite design, 
 Boccacio's Garden and its faery, 
 
 The love, the joyaunce, and the gallantry ! 
 An IDYLL, with Boccacio's spirit warm, 
 Framed in the silent poesy of form. 
 
 Like flocks adown a newly-bathed steep 
 Emerging from a mist : or like a stream 
 
 Of music soft that not dispels the sleep, 
 
 But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dream, 
 
 Gazed by an idle eye with silent might 
 
 The picture stole upon my inward sight.
 
 THE GARDEN OF BOCCACCIO. 
 BY E. T. P ARRIS.
 
 THE GARDEN OF BOCCACIO 13 
 
 A tremulous warmth crept gradual o'er my chest, 
 
 As though an infant's finger touch'd my breast. 
 
 And one by one (I know not whence) were brought 
 
 All spirits of power that most had stirr'd my thought 
 
 In selfless boyhood, on a new world tost 
 
 Of wonder, and in its own fancies lost ; 
 
 Or charm'd my youth, that, kindled from above, 
 
 Loved ere it loved, and sought a form for love ; 
 
 Or lent a lustre to the earnest scan 
 
 Of manhood, musing what and whence is man ? 
 
 Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves 
 
 Rehearsed their war-spell to the winds and waves ; 
 
 Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids, 
 
 That call'd on Hertha in deep forest glades ; 
 
 Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's feast ; 
 
 Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest, 
 
 Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array, 
 
 To high-church pacing on the great saint's day. 
 
 And many a verse which to myself I sang, 
 
 That woke the tear yet stole away the pang 
 
 Of hopes which in lamenting, I renew'd. 
 
 And last, a matron now, of sober mien, 
 
 Yet radiant still and with no earthly sheen, 
 
 Whom as a faery child my childhood woo'd 
 
 Even in my dawn of thought PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Though then unconscious of herself, pardie, 
 
 She bore no other name than POESY ; 
 
 And, like a gift from heaven, in lifeful glee, 
 
 That had but newly left a mother's knee, 
 
 Prattled and play'd with bird, and flower, and stone 
 
 As if with elfin playfellows well known, 
 
 And life reveal'd to innocence alone. 
 
 Thanks, gentle artist ! now I can descry 
 Thy fair creation with a mastering eye.
 
 14 THE GARDEN' 
 
 And all awake ! And now in fix'd gaze stand, 
 
 Now wander through the Eden of thy hand ; 
 
 Praise the green arches, on the fountain clear, 
 
 See fragment shadows of the crossing deer, 
 
 And with that serviceable nymph I stoop 
 
 The crystal from its restless pool to scoop. 
 
 I see no longer ! I myself am there, 
 
 Sit on the ground-sward, and the banquet share. 
 
 'Tis I, that sweep that lute's love-echoing strings, 
 
 And gaze upon the maid who gazing sings : 
 
 Or pause and listen to the tinkling bells 
 
 From the high tower, and think that there she dwells. 
 
 With old Boccacio's soul I stand possest, 
 
 And breathe an air like life, that swells my chest. 
 
 The brightness of the world, O thou once free, 
 And always fair, rare land of courtesy ! 
 O Florence ! with the Tuscan fields and hills, 
 And famous Arno fed with all their rills ; 
 Thou brightest star of star-bright Italy ! 
 Rich, ornate, populous, all treasures thine, 
 The golden corn, the olive, and the vine. 
 Fair cities, gallant mansions, castles old, 
 And forests, where beside his leafy hold 
 The sullen boar hath heard the distant horn, 
 And whets his tusks against the knarled thorn ; 
 Palladian palace with its storied halls ; 
 Fountains, where LOVE lies listening to their falls ; 
 Gardens, where flings the bridge its airy span, 
 And Nature makes her happy home with man ; 
 Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed 
 With its own rill, on its own spangled bed, 
 And wreathes the marble urn, or lean its head, 
 A mimic mourner, that with veil withdrawn 
 Weeps liquid gems, the presents of the dawn,
 
 OF BOCCACIO 15 
 
 Thine all delights, and every muse is thine : 
 And more than all, the embrace and intertwine 
 Of all with all in gay and twinkling dance ! 
 Mid gods of Greece and warriors of romance, 
 See ! BOCCACE sits, unfolding on his knees 
 The new-found roll of old Mseonides ; l 
 But from his mantle's fold, and near the heart, 
 Peers Ovid's HOLY BOOK of Love's sweet Smart ! 
 
 O all-enjoying and all-blending sage, 
 
 Long be it mine to con thy mazy page, 
 
 Where, half conceal'd, the eye of fancy views 
 
 Fauns, nymphs, and winged saints, all gracious to thy muse ! 
 
 Still in thy garden let me watch their pranks, 
 And see in Dian's vest between the ranks 
 Of the trim vines, some maid that half believes 
 The vestal fires, of which her lover grieves, 
 With that sly satyr peeping through the leaves ! 
 
 1 Boccacio claimed for himself the glory of having first intro- 
 duced the works of Homer to his countrymen.
 
 16 
 
 THE FAMILY OF SIR THOMAS MORE 
 
 THE various personages who formed the domestic circle 
 of Sir Thomas More at his house at Chelsea, in 1530, and 
 who are represented in this interesting painting, are now 
 introduced to the reader's particular notice. It is scarcely 
 necessary to observe that the middle-aged person in the 
 centre of the group, under the clock, is 
 
 I. SIR THOMAS MORE. He is dressed in dark-coloured 
 robes over a red vest, and has his hands, which are folded 
 together, partly concealed by the sleeves of his gown. 
 Round his neck is a gilt collar of S. S. with a rose sus- 
 pended to it, and at his feet a small white dog is seated, of 
 the breed called ' Bologna shocks.' Above Sir Thomas is 
 written ' Thomas Aforus, anno 50.' Of his person, his 
 great-grandson has given the following description, which 
 agrees with the impression conveyed by his portrait. ' He 
 was of mean l stature, well proportioned, his complexion 
 tending to phlegmatic ; his colour white and pale ; his hair 
 neither black nor yellow, but between both ; his eyes grey ; 
 his countenance amiable and cheerful ; ' and he adds, ' his 
 voice was neither big nor shrill, but speaking plainly and 
 distinctly ; it was not very tunable, though he delighted 
 much in music ; his body reasonably healthful, only that 
 towards his latter time, by using much to write, he com- 
 plained of pains in his breast.' Erasmus tells us that he 
 was in the habit of carrying one shoulder higher than the 
 other, which gave him the appearance of being slightly 
 
 1 Middle.
 
 THE FAMILY OF SIK THOMAS MORE 17 
 
 deformed, and that his hands were larger than agreed with 
 perfect symmetry. Immediately on his right sits 
 
 II. SIR JOHN MORE, his father, one of the Judges of 
 the Court of King's Bench, in the robes of which office, of 
 red cloth lined with ermine, he is habited ; he wears a 
 black cap on his head, and over him is written ' Johannes 
 Morus, pater, anno 76.' Of Sir John's character very little 
 is known ; but he must have been possessed of greater 
 merits than are usually ascribed to him, since he was the 
 founder of his family. He was born about 1455 ; in 1505 
 was made a serjeant at law ; and thirteen years after- 
 wards was raised to the dignity of a Judge of the Court of 
 King's Bench. As he was never promoted, a mean opinion 
 has been formed of his talents ; and this impression is 
 inferentially confirmed by two circumstances the one, that, 
 excepting in revenge for his son's conduct in the House of 
 Commons, he escaped the political dangers with which his 
 times were pregnant, being, perhaps, too insignificant to be 
 cared for ; and the other, that, in the epitaph written by 
 Sir Thomas, he is described as being courteous, innocent, 
 meek, merciful, just, and honest : but nothing is said of his 
 wisdom. During the year in which he and his son were 
 contemporary judges, the latter frequently exhibited the 
 most touching examples of filial piety. Though holding 
 the higher office of chancellor, he was accustomed, on pass- 
 ing through Westminster Hall to his own court, to enter 
 the Court of King's Bench ; and, if his father had taken 
 his seat, to fall on his knees before him, and reverentially 
 implore his blessing. Sir John More died of a surfeit from 
 having eaten too plentifully of grapes, about November, 
 1530, having been affectionately attended in his illness by 
 his son, who, on taking his last leave of him, ' with tears, 
 took him about the neck, most lovingly kissed and embraced 
 him, commending his soul devoutly to the merciful hands of 
 Almighty God.' 
 
 c
 
 18 THE FAMILY OF 
 
 The figure to the right of Sir John More is 
 
 III. ELIZABETH DAUNCEY, and is inscribed ' Elizabetha 
 Dauncea, Thomce Mori Jllia, anno 21.' She was Sir 
 Thomas's second daughter, and married, when very young, 
 John, son and heir of Sir John Dauncey, and is by far the 
 most beautiful female of the whole group. Mrs. Dauncey 
 is represented as having a fair complexion, with brown 
 eyes and hair, and is putting on her right glove ; she is 
 dressed in a black gown, with green sleeves and a gold 
 stomacher, and a kind of chain and her rosary are around 
 her neck ; on her head is a black cap, trimmed and tied 
 under her chin with reticulated gold- work ; and a white 
 scarf with gold tassels encircles her waist. Under her 
 right arm she holds a book, marked on the outside ' Epi- 
 stolicse Senecse ' ; and her appearance is altogether extremely 
 prepossessing. Like her sisters, she was well versed in the 
 classical languages, and was the correspondent of the 
 learned Erasmus, who applauded her for the purity of her 
 .Latin. 
 
 Immediately on her right is 
 
 IV. MARGARET CLEMENT, or, as she is described in the 
 picture, ' Uxor Johannis Clement.' This lady, who was born 
 in 1508, and whose maiden name was Giggs, was distantly 
 related to the More family, and was brought up in Sir 
 Thomas's house. She was educated and loved by him as if 
 she had been one of his own children, and she repaid his 
 kindness with the duty and affection of a daughter. He 
 commences one of his letters in these words : ' Thomas 
 More to his best-beloved children, and to Margaret Giggs, 
 whom he numbereth among his own ' ; and another, 
 ' Thomas More sendeth greeting to his most dear daughters 
 Margaret, Elizabeth, and Cecily ; and to Margaret Giggs, 
 as dear to him as if she were his own.' Her acquirements 
 in Latin and Greek were considerable ; and an attachment 
 having been formed between her and the tutor, or, more
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE 19 
 
 probably, physician, of the family, Doctor John Clement, 
 she became his wife ; on which occasion the antiquary 
 Leland wrote their Epithalamium. When Sir Thomas was 
 conducted to the Tower, after his condemnation, his eldest 
 daughter, this lady, and the wife of his secretary met and 
 embraced him in the tenderest manner. After his death 
 she obtained the shirt in which he suffered, and the hair 
 shirt which, as a kind of penance, he usually wore next his 
 skin, as relics of her martyred benefactor. Mrs. Clements 
 is represented in very plain attire a black gown, with a 
 white handkerchief over her bosom, and a cap of the same 
 colour ; she has a rosary round her neck ; to a green 
 girdle, a gold chain and small red bag are suspended ; and 
 she holds a book in her left hand, the leaves of which she 
 keeps open with her right. 
 
 V. JOHN MORE, the young man to the left of Sir 
 Thomas, was his only son, and is thus described ' Johannes 
 Morus, Thomce jilius, anno 19.' His abilities have been 
 much underrated, probably in consequence of his father's 
 witticism, ' that his mother had so long wished for a boy 
 that she had now one who would be a boy as long as he 
 lived ' ; and some writers have affected to discover indica- 
 tions of weakness in the countenance which Holbein has 
 given him. It is true he did nothing to distinguish him- 
 self ; but there is ample testimony that, though he was not 
 perhaps possessed of his father's or even of his sisters' 
 talents, he was by no means destitute of intellectual 
 powers. Sir Thomas, in one of his letters, particularly com- 
 mends the purity of his Latin, and says he had written to 
 him elegantly and pleasantly, returning jest for jest. 
 Grynceus has celebrated his proficiency in Greek, and both 
 he and Erasmus dedicated one of their works to him. He 
 evinced his duty and affection for his father by throwing 
 himself at his feet and embracing him on his way to the 
 Tower after his trial ; and he possessed sufficient strength 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE FAMILY OF 
 
 of character to deny the king's supremacy after Sir 
 Thomas's execution, in consequence of which he remained 
 for some time a prisoner under sentence of death. On 
 being released he is presumed to have retired to his wife's 
 estate in Yorkshire, his paternal property having been 
 confiscated, and died in 1547. At a very early age he 
 married, 
 
 VI. ANNE CRESACRE, the pretty-looking girl who stands 
 at a little distance behind, in the space between Sir Thomas 
 and Sir John, dressed in black, over whom is written 
 'Anna Cresacre, Johannis Mori sj)onsa,anno 15.' She was 
 the daughter and heiress of Edward Cresacre, of Barn- 
 borough, in Yorkshire, Esq., the last male representative of 
 an ancient family. Though called fifteen in the picture, she 
 must have been much nearer eighteen, as she was one year 
 old at her father's decease in 1512. Her grandson says 
 she was married by mistake, or, as he expresses it, ' upon 
 error for another body's lands ; ' for Sir Thomas, proceed- 
 ing on the feudal plan, intended to purchase the marriage 
 of a coheiress who held one moiety of his estate, but from 
 some accident the treaty was concluded for Anne Cresacre, 
 who accordingly became his son's wife. She survived her 
 husband many years, and fulfilled the duties of her station 
 very creditably, having educated her numerous family of 
 five sons and one daughter, and recovered their hereditary 
 lands in Herefordshire. In June, 1559, she married her 
 second husband, George West, Esq., and in the same year 
 her only daughter married John West, her husband's son 
 by his first wife. She again became a widow in 1572, and 
 died at Barnborough on the 2nd of December, 1577, in her 
 sixty -sixth year. 
 
 The three ladies in the corner are 
 
 In the foreground, with a clasped book in her lap, and 
 looking to the top, CECILY HERON, on the bottom of whose 
 gown is written ' Ccecilia Herona, Thomce jilia, anno
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE 21 
 
 20.' She was Sir Thomas's third and youngest daughter, 
 and married when very young Giles Heron, of Shackelwel, 
 in Middlesex, Esq., son of Sir John Heron, Master of the 
 Jewel House, by whom she had a son, Thomas, who died 
 issueless. Her literary acquirements equalled those of her 
 sisters, and received the same commendations. Like those 
 of the other females, her dress is black velvet or cloth, 
 with red sleeves and a gold stomacher ; and, besides her 
 rosary, she has an ornament suspended by a black riband 
 from her neck. 
 
 Next to her sits the celebrated 
 
 MARGARET ROPER, who is described on her gown as 
 ' Margareta Ropera, Thomce Morifilia, anno 22.' She was 
 Sir Thomas More's eldest and favourite daughter, and 
 resembled him more nearly than the rest of his children in 
 the depth and acuteness of her understanding. Of this 
 eminent woman much is said in the various memoirs of her 
 father ; but the space to which this sketch of her must be 
 confined will only allow of the most striking facts being 
 noticed. Sir Thomas was so devoted to her that, during a 
 dangerous illness with which she was visited, he resolved 
 if she had died to withdraw himself wholly from the world ; 
 and her recovery is imputed to the efficacy of his prayers. 
 She was the dispenser of her father's secret charities, and 
 to her alone he entrusted the knowledge of the severe 
 religious austerities to which he subjected himself his 
 hair shirt and his repeated scourgings. In some of these 
 self-inflicted penances she imitated her parent : ' She had 
 her shirts and girdles of hair,' says Bishop Fisher in one 
 of his sermons, ' which, when she was in health, every 
 week she failed not certain days to wear, sometime the 
 one, sometime the other, that full often her skin, as I heard 
 say, was pierced therewith.' Although Mrs. Roper's 
 veneration for her father scarcely knew any limits, it is 
 remarkable that she not only took the obnoxious oath, with
 
 22 THE FAMILY OF 
 
 the qualification, however, ' as far as it would stand with 
 the law of God,' but used every argument to induce him 
 to follow her example. A most affecting scene took place 
 between them on his return to the Tower after his con- 
 demnation, which it would be a want of judgment to 
 describe in any other words than those of her husband : 
 ' When Sir Thomas More came from Westminster to the 
 Tower-ward again, his daughter, my wife, desirous to see 
 her father, whom she thought she should never see in this 
 world after, and also to have his final blessing, gave attend- 
 ance about the Tower Wharf, where she knew he should 
 pass by before he could enter into the Tower. There 
 tarrying his coming, as soon as she saw him, after his bless- 
 ing upon her knees reverently received, she, hasting towards 
 him, without consideration or care of herself, pressing in 
 amongst the midst of the throng and company of the 
 guard, that with halberds and bills went round about him, 
 hastily ran to him, and there openly, in sight of them all, 
 embraced him, and took him about the neck and kissed him ; 
 who, well liking her most natural and dear daughterly affec- 
 tion towards him, gave her his fatherly blessing, and many 
 godly words of comfort besides. From whom, after she was 
 departed, she, not satisfied with the former sight of her 
 dear father, and like one that had forgotten herself, being 
 all ravished with the entire love of her dear father, having 
 respect neither to himself nor to the press of people and 
 multitude that were there about him, suddenly turned 
 back again, ran to him as before, took him about the neck, 
 and divers times kissed him most lovingly ; and at last, with 
 a full and heavy heart, was fain to depart from him : the 
 beholding whereof was to many of them that were present 
 thereat so lamentable that it made them for very sorrow 
 thereof to weep and mourn.' 
 
 The morning before he suffered Sir Thomas privately 
 sent her his hair shirt and scourge, together with the
 
 SIR THOMAS MOKE 23 
 
 following letter, written with a piece of charcoal in a copy 
 of one of his works. ' It is particularly deserving of inser- 
 tion, from the allusions which it contains to most of the 
 persons who have been mentioned in this memoir, and must 
 be read with the deepest interest. 
 
 ' Our Lord bless you, good daughter, and your good 
 husband, and your little boy, and all yours, and all my 
 children, and all my god-children, and all our friends. 
 Recommend me, when ye may, to my good daughter Cecily, 
 whom I beseech our good Lord to comfort ; and I send her 
 my blessing, and to all her children, and pray her to pray 
 for me. I send her an handkerchief, and God comfort my 
 good son, her husband. My good daughter Daunce hath 
 the picture in parchment that you delivered me from my 
 Lady Coniers : her name is on the back side. Show her 
 that I heartily pray her that you may send it in my name, 
 to her again, for a token from me to pray for me. I like 
 special well Dorothy Colly ; I pray you be good unto her. 
 I would wit whether this be she that you wrote me of ; if 
 not, yet I pray you be good to the other as you may, in her 
 affliction, and to my daughter Joan Aleyn, too. 1 Give her, 
 I pray you, some kind answer, for she sued hither to me 
 this day to pray you be good to her. I cumber you, good 
 Margaret, much, but I would be sorry if it should be any 
 longer than to-morrow, for it is St. Thomas' even, and the 
 utas of Saint Peter ; and therefore to-morrow long I to go 
 to God : it were a day very meet and convenient for me. 2 
 I never liked your manners towards me better than when 
 you kissed me last, for I love when daughterly love and 
 dear charity hath no leisure to look to worldly courtesy. 
 Farewell, my dear child, and pray for me, and I shall for 
 
 1 A servant of Mrs. Roper, perhaps his god-daughter, or, like 
 Margaret Clement, on whom he bestows the same appellation, one 
 
 - St. Thomas was probably his tutelar saint.
 
 24 THE FAMILY OF 
 
 you, and all your friends, that we may merrily meet in 
 heaven. I thank you for your great cost. I send now to 
 my good daughter Clement her algorisme stone, and I send 
 her and my godson, ard all hers, God's blessing and mine. 
 I pray you at time convenient recommend me to my good 
 son John More. I liked well his natural fashion. 1 Our 
 Lord bless him and his good wife, my loving daughter, to 
 whom I pray him to .be good, as he hath great cause ; and 
 that if the land of mine come to his hand, he break not 
 my will concerning his sister Daunce. And our Lord bless 
 Thomas and Austen, 2 and all that they shall have.' 
 
 It was one of his last requests to Henry that his 
 daughter Margaret might attend his funeral. In defiance 
 of the danger which attended the act, she bought the head 
 of her ill-fated parent, when it was about to be thrown into 
 the Thames, after having been affixed to London Bridge ; 
 and on being questioned by the Privy Council about her 
 conduct, she boldly replied that she had done so that ' it 
 might not become food for fishes.' She survived Sir 
 Thomas nine years, and died, aged 36, in 1544, and was 
 buried in the church of St. Dunstan, at Canterbury, the 
 box containing her father's head being placed on her coffin. 
 By her husband, who lived a widower thirty-three years, 
 and died in January, 1577, aged eighty-two, she had issue 
 two sons and three daughters, one of the latter of whom is 
 noticed by Mr. Ballard in his memoirs of celebrated women. 
 The present representative of Mrs. Roper is Charles Winn, 
 of Nostell Priory, in Yorkshire, Esq., the possessor of 
 Holbein's painting. 3 She sent Erasmus a copy of it, which 
 he acknowledged in a letter to her, expressive of the delight 
 which the present afforded him, wherein a family so highly 
 esteemed were exactly pourtrayed ; adding that, though he 
 knew each of the figures the instant he saw them, yet was 
 
 1 Alluding to their conduct on meeting him after his condemnation. 
 
 2 His son's children. 3 In 1830.
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE 25 
 
 he more particularly pleased with her portrait, which 
 recalled to his mind all the excellent qualities he had so 
 long admired in her. The painting l sent to Erasmus, 
 which was likewise by Holbein, is carefully preserved in 
 the town hall of Basel. Mrs. Roper's extraordinary 
 erudition excited the admiration of the most learned of her 
 contemporaries ; and her father, on more than one occasion, 
 repeats with a parent's pride the compliments which had 
 been paid to her compositions. She is painted in a dress 
 very similar to her sister's ; but the sleeves are ornamented 
 with gold, and her stomacher, which is red, has a jewel in 
 the upper part. A book is open in her lap, on which is 
 written 'L. An. Senecse CEdipus,' as a running title; 
 and the page commences with ' Fata si liceat mihi fingere 
 arbitrio meo, temperem zephyro levi.' 
 
 The old lady behind Mrs. Roper, near the monkey/ 
 holding a book before her, is 
 
 ALICE LADY MOKE, over whom is written ' Alicia, uxor 
 Thomce Mori, anno 57.' She was the second wife of Sir 
 Thomas More, and was the daughter and heiress, or co- 
 heiress, of Arderne, and widow of John Middleton, 
 
 by whom she had a daughter, Alice, to whom her stepfather 
 behaved with a tenderness which she gratefully acknow- 
 ledged during his misfortunes : she married first Thomas 
 Eldrington, Esq., who died at Chelsea, in September, 1523 ; 
 and, secondly, Sir Giles Allington, Knight, and was buried 
 at Horsheath, in Cambridgeshire, on the 26th of September, 
 1563. Lady More was seven years older than her hus- 
 band : she was neither rich nor handsome ; and, from what 
 his great-grandson says of her, it would seem that Sir 
 Thomas was tricked into the alliance, thus proving that his 
 boasted talents were but an unequal match for 
 That low cunning which in fools supplies, 
 And amply, too, the place of being wise. 
 
 1 It is an outline only.
 
 26 THE FAMILY OF 
 
 All which is known of her justifies our considering that she 
 was both ignorant and vulgar a coarse weed in the par- 
 terre into which it was her singular fortune to be trans- 
 planted. A letter from her to Secretary Cromwell exhibits 
 a most affecting picture of the distress to which Sir 
 Thomas's imprisonment had reduced his family, and excites 
 our warmest sympathy for his misfortunes. Her motive 
 for writing is, she says, to inform him ' of my great and 
 extreme necessity, which, over and besides the charge of 
 mine own house, do pay weekly fifteen shillings for the 
 board wages of my poor husband and his servant, for the 
 maintaining whereof I have been compelled, of very neces- 
 sity, to sell part of mine apparel, for lack of other substance 
 to make money of ' ; and she entreated to be allowed to 
 appear before the Privy Council. 
 
 The stout man next to John More, and immediately 
 behind Mrs. Heron, standing with his face qffronte, is 
 
 HENRY PATTISON ' Henricus Pattison, Thomce servus' 
 one of the degraded creatures whom, by the title of 'Fool, 
 it was then the fashion to keep in most families of distinc- 
 tion. He is represented, in a dress of three colours, the 
 undermost being red, the next, which is a sort of jacket, 
 is green, and over all he wears a kind of yellow frock. In 
 his round black cap are two roses, the one white, and the 
 other red ; on the left side is a small shield charged, with 
 a red cross, and near it what seems to be a jewel. Round 
 his neck a gold cross, or, more likely, a whistle, is suspended, 
 and the thumb of his left hand seems to rest in his girdle. 
 Pattison appears to have been a stout, healthy man, about 
 forty, with a florid complexion, blue eyes, and a countenance 
 which does not betray any want of intellect. 
 
 Of the two remaining figures only one can be identified, 
 for the name of the person habited in a green gown, 
 standing at a window in another room, holding a black- 
 letter volume in his hands, is not known. The man enter-
 
 SIR THOMAS MORE 27 
 
 ing the door, dressed in a tawny-coloured gown, holding in 
 his left hand a roll of parchment, with seals attached, and 
 in his right what seems to be a large pair of spectacles, is 
 
 JOHN HARRIS, or, as the writing over his head describes 
 him, ' Johannes Heresius, Thomce Mori famul', anno 27,' 
 who was Sir Thomas More's secretary, and a most favoured 
 servant. He married Dorothy Colly, who has been already 
 mentioned ; but an anecdote relating to her, which the 
 superstition of Cresacre More makes him consider a miracle, 
 cannot be inserted in a more appropriate place. Mrs. 
 Roper, having distributed all her money to the poor to say 
 masses for her father's soul, forgot to buy a sheet to wrap 
 his body in ; and neither she, Mrs. Clement, nor Mrs. 
 Harris, united, possessed sufficient to purchase one. The 
 latter, notwithstanding, went into a draper's shop, and 
 having agreed on the price, pretended to seek for her purse, 
 with the intention of afterwards asking them to trust her, 
 when, to her astonishment, she found the exact sum which 
 she required, though she knew positively there was not a 
 farthing in it when she entered the shop. Harris died at 
 Neumarch, in Germany, and is buried there, in the same 
 grave with his son-in-law, John Fowler, a native of Bristol, 
 who settled at Antwerp as a printer. 
 
 The bipeds in the painting having been described, the 
 monkey and dogs, which are introduced in it, require a 
 slight notice. Sir Thomas More's love of natural history 
 accounts for the appearance of the former, and one of the 
 dogs may be supposed, from the date of the picture being 
 nearly that of the year in which Sir Thomas held the great 
 seal, to be the hero of the following story, which is told by 
 Cresacre More. 
 
 ' It happened on a time that a beggar-woman's little 
 dog, which she had lost, was presented for a jewel to my 
 Lady More, and she had kept it some se'nnight very care- 
 fully ; but at last the beggar had notice where her dog was,
 
 28 THE FAMILY OF SIR THOMAS MORE 
 
 and presently she came to complain to Sir Thomas, as he 
 was sitting in his hall, that his lady withheld her dog from 
 her ; presently my lady was sent for, and the dog brought 
 with her ; which Sir Thomas taking in his hands, caused 
 his wife, because she was the worthier person, to stand at 
 the upper end of the hall and the beggar at the lower end, 
 and, saying that he sat there to do everyone justice, he 
 bade each of them call the dog, which when they did, the 
 dog went presently to the beggar, forsaking my lady. 
 When he saw this he bade my lady be contented, for it was 
 none of hers ; yet, she repining at the sentence of my lord 
 chancellor, agreed with the beggar, and gave her a piece of 
 gold, which would well have bought three dogs, and so all 
 parties were agreed, every one smiling to see his manner 
 of inquiring out the truth.' 
 
 The room in which the group are represented is pre- 
 sumed to have been in Sir Thomas's house at Chelsea, the 
 furniture of which is strongly indicative of the taste and 
 pursuits of the family. At the upper end stands a chamber 
 organ, on a cupboard, with a curtain drawn before it. The 
 cupboard is covered with a carpet-cloth of tapestry, on each 
 end of which is placed a flower-pot filled with various 
 flowers ; and in the centre a lute, a base-viol, a ewer with 
 a white cloth folded over it ; and three books, one of which 
 is Boetius de Consolatione Philosopliice, a favourite author 
 of the family, who is thus mentioned in one of Sir Thomas 
 More's letters to Mrs. Roper : ' I admonish you also to 
 think of this holy fast of Lent, and let that excellent and 
 pious song of Boethius sound in your ears.' Behind Lady 
 More, in a large arched window, stands another flower-pot 
 and a couple of oranges beside it, whilst the representation 
 of the apartment itself, with the clock, which is still pre- 
 served, chairs, &c., affords a correct idea of the sitting-rooms 
 of persons of consequence in the early part of the sixteenth 
 century.
 
 29 
 
 THE DBA TH OF THE REGENT MURRA Y 
 BY SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 Sternly he spoke Tis sweet to hear 
 In good green wood the bugle blown ; 
 
 But sweeter to Revenge's ear, 
 To hear a tyrant's dying groan. 
 
 AN event now occurred which startled the regent like a 
 thunderbolt. Mary, although a captive in the hands of 
 her enemies, and in the midst of a lonely lake, was yet 
 formidable in her arms of grace and beauty, in her queenly 
 majesty, and her woman's tears. Young Douglas of 
 Lochleven, at once pitying her misfortunes and smitten with 
 her charms, contrived their escape. On a dark night, and at 
 the witching hour, they left the island. 
 
 The sentinel, whose slumbering had withstood the 
 whispering, was alarmed by the dash of oars. His challenge 
 was instantly heard. 'A boat a boat ! Bring to, or I 
 shoot ! ' And as they continued to ply their oars, he called 
 aloud, ' Treason ! treason ! ' rang the alarm-bell of the 
 castle, and discharged his harquebuss at the boat. The ladies 
 crowded on each other like startled wild-fowl, at the flash 
 and report of the piece, while the men urged the rowers to 
 the utmost speed. They heard more than one ball whiz 
 along the surface of the lake, at no great distance from 
 their little bark ; and from the lights, which glanced like
 
 30 THE DEATH OF 
 
 meteors from window to window, it was evident that the 
 whole castle were alarmed and their flight discovered. 
 
 Mary, however, effected her escape, and soon found her- 
 self once more at the head of an army. But even now the 
 regent did not lose his presence of mind ; but, by his 
 promptitude and vigour, no less than by the wisdom of his 
 plans, proved himself to belong to that class of men who 
 should be termed the parents rather than the sons of destiny. 
 He attacked and routed the enemy at Langside, with a far 
 inferior force, and compelled the queen to the fatal step 
 of flying for refuge into the tigress's den, whence she was 
 never to escape alive. The victory should be termed 
 ' glorious ' (if the word were not so vilely prostituted as to 
 be worth nothing), for it was bought with the loss of only 
 three hundred lives ; and even six of the prisoners, whom 
 he had selected for execution, were spared, when on the 
 scaffold, at the intercession of John Knox. 
 
 Among the six prisoners there was one man whose life 
 it proved the keenest, yet probably unconscious, cruelty to 
 spare. This was Bothwellhaugh, a gentleman of the clan 
 of Hamilton, and a blood relation of its chief, the Earl of 
 Arran (Duke of Chatelherault in France), the first peer of 
 the realm. He had married the heiress of Woodhouselee, 
 and resided with her in her own ancestral home in the 
 lovely vale of Esk, and where she had just given birth to a 
 child. At this moment the tocsin sounded throughout 
 Scotland ; the queen had escaped from Lochleven ; and the 
 loyal Hamilton, tearing himself away from his new-born 
 hope and his young wife, ran to join the muster of his clan. 
 
 The result of the struggle is known. Mary stood on a 
 hill to look on at the battle which was to decide her fate ; 
 and the Hamiltons in the van, led on by Lord Claud 
 Hamilton, knowing that they fought under the eye of ' the 
 most unhappy of queens, the most lovely of women,' left 
 their ground in a burst of enthusiasm, and rushed on to the
 
 THE REGENT MURRAY 31 
 
 encounter. The space between them and the enemy was 
 considerable, and their force was almost spent before they 
 came to close quarters. When at length the spears of the 
 two opposing lines were locked together like the arms of 
 lovers, and the tug of battle commenced, a continuous fire 
 of musketry opened upon one of their flanks, while on their 
 other they were attacked by the elite of the regent's troops. 
 The main body of Mary's adherents behind, disheartened 
 by a spectacle for which they were unprepared, or controlled 
 by the destiny of the fated queen, remained stupefied ; and 
 the Hamiltons, unsupported, or rather sacrificed, gave way, 
 and the battle became a flight. 1 
 
 When Bothwellhaugh, a dishonoured soldier and a con- 
 demned criminal, ascended the scaffold soon after, it may 
 be conceived with what feelings he turned his eyes towards 
 the south, and saw in imagination his ' pallid rose ' drooping 
 feebly yet fondly over his little bud. When delivered from 
 death he scarcely understood why or how it may be con- 
 ceived how eagerly he spurred his steed towards the lonely 
 valley of the Esk. 
 
 To describe the scene which met his view, and the tale 
 which knelled in his ear, without a creeping of the flesh, a 
 curdling of the blood, and a sickening of the heart, is im- 
 possible. His estate of Woodhouselee had been given away 
 to a favourite of the regent ; and this man, Sir James 
 Ballenden, eager to enter upon his new possession, had 
 seized the house at night and turned its mistress and her 
 infant out into the open fields. The young mother had but 
 lately risen from the bed of her confinement ; she was 
 undressed ; the night was bitterly cold. The result is told to 
 this day in the superstitions of the peasants of the Esk, who 
 see a lady thinly clad in white, with an infant in her arms, 
 flitting wildly around the spot where the mansion stood. A 
 
 1 Melville says that the vanguard was composed chiefly of 
 commoners of the neighbouring barony. of Renfrew.
 
 32 THE DEATH OF 
 
 frenzied scream sometimes thickens their blood with horror, 
 as the phantom sinks among the ruins. 
 
 Bothwellhaugh turned back from Woodhouselee. 
 
 Sir James Ballenden, who held a high and honourable 
 office in the law, would have been a fair mark for vengeance 
 under any ordinary circumstances. But the wrongs of the 
 Hamilton were not such as could be weighed in the common 
 balance of blood. Something must be done he knew not 
 what. Something that would shake the very realm to 
 its centre. Something that would be heard by every ear in 
 Scotland, as distinctly as the scream of the lady of Wood- 
 houselee had thrilled along the Esk. Sir James Ballenden 
 was but an agent, a servant a pitiful, dastardly hound, 
 who only worried at the command or under the protection 
 of his master. That master was the true offender. The 
 blood of the first man in the country would be a fitting 
 libation. Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh determined to slay 
 the regent of Scotland. 
 
 He dogged his steps for some time like fate. He 
 followed him to the Borders, and when the regent had 
 dismissed his army, at a motion of Elizabeth's royal finger, 
 returned upon his traces to Edinburgh. He was with him 
 in York and London, when Murray went crouching to the 
 footstool of the English queen, to prefer a charge of murder 
 against his sister ; in Perth, in Glasgow, in Stirling, he 
 hovered around him, like a bird of prey circling above its 
 quarry, and only awaiting an opportunity to strike. 
 
 The regent, in the meantime, held on his way, successful 
 alike in policy and war. When about to pass through 
 Linlithgow, on his way from Stirling to Edinburgh, a warn- 
 ing reached him. It came from John Knox, and the first- 
 named place was mentioned as the spot of danger. There 
 was nothing preternatural in the foresight of the Scottish 
 apostle ; for the frightful wrongs of Bothwellhaugh were 
 already well known, and Linlithgow, besides being favour- 
 able to the cause of the queen, was a seat of the Archbishop
 
 THE REGENT MURRAY 33 
 
 of St. Andrews, who had there a house, 1 which was more par- 
 ticularly pointed out to the regent as the place to be avoided. 
 
 Constitutionally brave, and steeled yet more against 
 the sense of danger by a long course of daring and success, 
 James Stewart smiled scornfully at the warning. Was hits 
 wonderful destiny in the hands of the petty laird of Both- 
 wellhaugh ? "Was the blood of a line of Scottish kings to 
 sink in the ground at the command of a vassal of Hamilton ? 
 In vain had the Earl of Huntly beset his path, as if he had 
 been stalking a deer ; in vain had Bothwell in vain had 
 Darnley, raised the dagger against his breast ; in vain, but 
 a few months ago, had a hedge of Northumberland and 
 Westmoreland spears risen up to prevent his return to 
 Scotland alive. All were in vain. Secure alike from war 
 and treachery, he bore a charmed life ; and when his gallant 
 steed swerved at the sight and cheers of the tumultuous 
 crowd, as they commenced their march through Linlithgow, 
 the regent probably addressed him inwardly with the 
 Roman's encouragement ' Quid timeas 1 Csesarem vehis et 
 fortunam Csesaris ! ' 
 
 At this moment, however, the warning was repeated 
 still more emphatically perhaps for no better reason than 
 that they were now approaching the house of the Archbishop 
 of Saint Andrews ; the alarm spread among the friends 
 who encircled him, and murmurs arose that it was madness 
 to expose a life so precious to them, and to the kingdom, to 
 any unnecessary risk. The regent himself began to think 
 that his danger was something more than imaginary ; and, 
 at length, turning his horse, he gave orders to the cortege 
 to face about, resolving to quit Linlithgow by the same gate 
 by which he had entered, and make a circuit round the town. 
 
 The house which had excited their fears, and which they 
 
 1 The archbishop was the natural brother of the Duke of 
 Chatelherault (the chief of the Hamiltons) and uncle to Bothwell- 
 haugh. 
 
 D
 
 34 THE DEATH OF 
 
 had thus left behind, formed part of the line of buildings ; 
 and a sort of gallery, or apartment, projecting from the 
 walls, overlooked the street. In this gallery stood the 
 Revenger, a brass carabine of peculiar construction, the 
 barrel being rifled, raised to his eye, and a lighted match 
 grasped between his fingers. The floor was carpeted with 
 a feather-bed, that no sound might be heard from his foot- 
 steps, and the wall behind was hung with black cloth, that 
 his shadow might not be observed by the passers-by. A 
 fleet horse stood saddled and bridled at the back door, the 
 front entrance was strongly barricaded, and the closes, or 
 covered courts, in the neighbourhood, leading to the rear of 
 the houses, were stuffed with furze. And so stood Both- 
 wellhaugh, his eye fixed grimly on the visy of his piece ; his 
 lips as hard as stone, yet half open with expectation ; and 
 impatience, mingled with iron resolve, scowling on his brow. 
 
 When the regent reached the gate of the town he found 
 the crowd of citizens, thus thrust back, struggling with a 
 tide of population, rushing in with equal force, from the 
 neighbouring country, to see the show. The way was for 
 the moment impassable ; and Murray, chafing with impati- 
 ence, scorned to wait till it was cleared. Changing his 
 determination as suddenly and as unconsciously as before, 
 he turned his horse again, and passed on his allotted path. 
 
 It may be that, on finding himself again pursuing the 
 same track against which he had been warned, and which 
 he had but a few minutes before determined to shun, some 
 unusual sensation passed across his heart. It may be that 
 his thoughts were carried at that moment, by association, to 
 the other epochs of his wonderful story. Perhaps the 
 heart-broken moan of his queen and sister rose upon his 
 ear ; perhaps the frenzied scream of the lady of Wood- 
 houselee pierced through his brain. These are the specu- 
 lations of poetry. We only know that the regent, deter- 
 mining to defy and baffle the danger which it seemed he
 
 o
 
 THE REGENT MURRAY 35 
 
 could not shun, called to his followers to dash hastily past 
 the archbishop's house, and thus frustrate the scheme, if any 
 such existed, of his lurking enemy. 
 
 Dark Morton, girt with many a spear, 
 
 Murder's foul minion, led the van ; 
 And clash'd their broadswords, in the rear, 
 
 The wild Macfarlan's plaided clan. 
 
 Glencairn, and stout Parkhead, were nigh, 
 
 Obsequious at their regent's rein, 
 And haggard Lindsay's iron eye, 
 
 That saw fair Mary weep in vain. 
 
 But the regent could not dash over the bodies of his 
 countrymen, and would not if he had been able. The crowd 
 before was as dense as the crowd behind ; every dwelling, 
 every close continued to pour its quota into the flood. 
 They were near the house of the archbishop, and perhaps 
 the very circumstance retarded their progress, from the 
 eagerness of the vassals to crowd round their master at the 
 dangerous spot, and, if need was, to die with him, or for him. 
 The order of the line was broken ; the chief was encircled 
 by devoted friends ; and only now and then the wave of 
 his proud plumes could be discerned from the gallery among 
 the crowd of heads. They were opposite the house. The 
 window was open, but the gallery empty ; for there was no 
 footstep on the floor, no shadow on the wall. They did not 
 see the glare of the tiger-eye of Bothwellhaugh the damp 
 of deadly hate standing on his brow the hand which 
 clutched the carabine trembling with impatience. Another 
 moment and the regent is safe. It came not. A shot was 
 heard above the cheers of the crowd ; and he fell mortally 
 wounded from his horse. 1 
 
 1 The fire-lock of the carabine in the engraving involves an 
 anachronism, for which Mr. Cattermole is not to blame. The piece 
 is preserved at Hamilton Palace ; but somebody, from a singular 
 species of taste, has thought proper to replace the original match- 
 lock with the modern invention. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE DEATH OF 
 
 To mark the fate of his victim to fly to the rear of the 
 building ; to bound upon his steed, were but the occupa- 
 tions of an instant. The Revenger gained the open country 
 unmolested : for to force an entrance into the house was a 
 work of time ; and he fled, at full speed, towards Hamilton, 
 the capital of his clan. But not alone. Leaving their 
 comrades to force an entrance as they might, some ready- 
 minded vassals of the regent had darted away, almost at 
 the moment of the deed, to intercept him. Owing to more 
 accurate knowledge of the neighbourhood of the town, he 
 had the start ; but now, serving as a guide himself, the 
 whole party, pursuers and pursued, scoured over the heath 
 together. 
 
 Bothwellhaugh was hardly a spear's-throw in advance ; 
 but his horse, which had been the gift of Lord John Hamil- 
 ton, was all muscle and mettle. Onward the noble brute 
 bounded straight as an arrow over field and moss 
 and dyke and burn. When his strength began to fail 
 whip and spur were applied, till his sides welled blood 
 and sweat at the same time. But even the rowels at 
 length failed in their effect, and the sense of pain became 
 dead in the wide wound they had formed. The pursuers 
 were close upon his heels. At every leap he had taken, 
 however mad and desperate, they had come thundering after ; 
 and he now distinctly heard the groan-like panting of their 
 steeds and the sobs with which the riders caught breath as 
 they flew. 
 
 A stream was in front, broad, deep, and sluggish, wind- 
 ing through a morass. There was no purchase in the soft 
 ground for the animal's heels, even if in full vigour for the 
 leap ; but, spent as he was, and callous even to the spur, 
 what hope remained ? Bothwellhaugh, however, still held 
 on his course. As he neared the water he tried the rowels 
 again to the very hilt without effect. A hoarse cheer 
 arose from the pursuers behind. He then suddenly drew
 
 THE REGENT MURRAY 37 
 
 his dagger, as he had gained the brink, struck it deep into 
 his horse's haunch, and the affrighted animal sprang madly 
 over the gulf. 
 
 He was now safe, and arrived speedily at Hamilton, 
 where he was received in triumph by his friends and clan. 
 After having remained there for some time, Bothwellhaugh 
 passed over into France, and offered his services to the 
 Guises, the kinsmen of the Queen of Scots. By them he 
 was treated with much distinction ; and even a circumstance 
 which he felt as a bitter insult was probably intended as 
 the very reverse. When it was the question among them 
 to murder the famous Coligny, the leader of the Protestant 
 party, overtures were made to the Scottish assassin, with 
 the view of engaging him to strike the blow. Bothwell- 
 haugh spurned at the proposal with scorn and indignation. 
 ' The admiral,' he said, ' was no personal enemy of his. A 
 man of honour was entitled to avenge his own just quarrels, 
 but would cease to be so if he committed murder for 
 another.' 
 
 I may add that the Archbishop of St. Andrews, two 
 months afterwards, fell into the hands of his enemies at the 
 capture of Dumbarton Castle, and was hanged without 
 ceremony ; and that the heir of the Regent Murray was 
 murdered in the prime of his youth by the Earl of Huntly.
 
 38 
 
 THE PALACE OF JUSTICE, BRUGES 
 BY THOMAS ROSCOE 
 
 THE Palace of Justice, erected in 1722, on the east side of 
 the town formerly Palais du Franc de Bruges (the 
 Liberty), forming an independent district, was given up by 
 Philip the Good to the magistracy of the Franc de Bruges. 
 It presents nothing very remarkable in the facade, but in 
 the work of Sanderus, where you see a full representation 
 of the ancient edifice, it is different. As represented also 
 in the accompanying view it serves to convey, both in point 
 of character and costume, a perfect and lively idea of the 
 scene it once exhibited, in the palmier days of Flemish law 
 and justice. It is the interior which deserves the study of 
 the antiquary ; and among other objects of art he will 
 remark, in one of the halls, the grand chimney-piece, so 
 admirably sculptured in wood as to astonish the connois- 
 seurs of every country. From a date upon one of the sides 
 it appears that this elaborate work was executed in the 
 year 1529. The genii and the bas-reliefs which adorn the 
 frieze are all in white marble ; and represent with equal 
 care the history of Susannah. The stately figure in the 
 centre is the Emperor Charles V. ; on his left are seen the 
 statues of Maximilian, and of Mary of Burgundy ; on the 
 right, those of Charles the Bold, and Margaret of England, 
 his third wife. Upon the two sides, above these figures, 
 are given the emblems and coats of arms of Spain, Bur-
 
 THE PALACE OF JUSTICE AT BRUGES 39 
 
 gundy, Brabant, and Flanders, all finished with an exqui- 
 site degree of art. 1 
 
 Here, too, besides a series of portraits of Spanish 
 sovereigns, is preserved a large painting by Van Oost, the 
 son, chiefly distinguished for the exquisite truth of the 
 fleshes and the vivacity of the colouring. In the hall, now 
 appropriated to the use of the police, is another picture by 
 J. Van Oost, the father, which represents a criminal, and 
 in which it is said are also represented the portraits of the 
 judges who lived at the period of the trial. The back- 
 ground gives a view of the hall to which we have alluded, 
 and it may be observed that it has very little changed its 
 appearance. Over the chimney itself is seen a fine land- 
 scape, by Joseph de Momper, with figures and animals by 
 Breughel de Velours, in that peculiarly happy style which 
 then came so much into vogue. 
 
 In the chamber where the judges assemble previous to 
 holding their sessions there is a splendid view of the town 
 as it appeared at that period, with its now antique aspect 
 and picturesque character fresh upon it. It is interesting 
 to contrast the past with the present, and observe the 
 numerous changes and dilapidations which have rendered 
 the latter a comparatively grand ruin the sad, but pictur- 
 esque cemetery of its own fortunes. Over the chimney of 
 the Hall of the Tribunal appears an allegorical picture of 
 some merit, which represents Philip the Good seated on a 
 throne, in the act of granting a charter, bearing the date 
 of 1435 ; and farther on, in the chamber of advocates, we 
 noticed a painting of the Decapitation of St. John, toler- 
 ably well executed, and other specimens, chiefly copies of 
 older masters by Gaeremyu and Suve'e, besides some por- 
 traits of Spanish sovereigns, and two or three landscapes. 
 
 1 This grand piece of wood-carving was designed and probably 
 executed by Lancelot Blondeel and Guyot de Beaugrant. A cast of the 
 whole chimney-piece may be seen in the South Kensington Museum.
 
 40 THE PALACE OF JUSTICE 
 
 In this palace are also found deposited the provincial 
 archives, among which are contained charters, which may 
 be traced back to the twelfth century, and they are almost 
 innumerable. 
 
 No amateur who delights in viewing selected specimens 
 of the highest character, will fail to visit M. Chantrell's 
 collection of sketches by Rubens, and some admirable 
 prints by the early masters. We found that of M. Stein- 
 metz equally rich in paintings and in prints, in the German, 
 Dutch, and Italian schools. Add to these the several col- 
 lections of Messrs. Vanden-Bussche, Puyenbeke, and Baron 
 de Marenzi, which exhibit some rare and excellent specimens 
 of the arts in their different stages, which would agreeably 
 occupy not only hours, but days, and even weeks, in the 
 opinion of genuine connoisseurs and all who have the 
 happiness to possess a taste for them. ' You will now be 
 enabled,' said the count, ' to form some idea of old Flemish 
 art, and to acquit Lanzi of any desire to depreciate its 
 excellence. Nay, I trust to make a convert of you, to all 
 my Flemish doctrines, before you join your friends at Liege. 
 We will go together ; at every step you will see something 
 worth your notice, and you will oblige me,' he added, 'for 
 I will show you our schools of painting, as we are not sin- 
 gular, " our name is legion " ; from fine old Van Eyck, to 
 my studious friend and true scholar De Keyser. There is 
 also Geefs, too, and his studio, full of classic models I 
 mean his own there is Verbeckhoeven, the very Landseer 
 of Belgium, and our provinces have each their painters and 
 their pupils, who, if not as successful as they deserve, have 
 less to blame themselves, their genius, or their talents, than 
 the adverse spirit of their age. It is the same with your 
 historical painters : it is only when your artists reflect your 
 own likeness, and something better, perhaps, that they are 
 really popular with you. I think that of the two, we are 
 the more just ; look at your John Martin, how he was
 
 AT BRUGES 41 
 
 received here ; his Belgian reputation is perhaps worth 
 more than his English, though that deservedly stands high. 
 But the stream of emigration in art, as in everything else, 
 is from you and towards your colonies, or us younger 
 resuscitated states. And this is honourable for you ; 
 Britain is the foster-mother of many lands, of the peaceful 
 arts, and of a certain degree of freedom, not well denned 
 indeed, but good as compared with the absolutism so oppres- 
 sive in other parts. She is the arbitress of Europe, and the 
 hope of the world.' 
 
 I made the count a profound obeisance, when he added, 
 with a malicious smile : ' but you are without a pictorial 
 history ; you must still visit Italy and Flanders if you wish 
 to have it ; Bruges, Brussels, and Antwerp abound with 
 native masters, who yield to none. If we have no Michael 
 Angelo, and no Raphael, we need not shrink from a com- 
 parison with any other names. Fix your eye steadily a few 
 minutes on our old Van Eycks, study our Memling, our 
 Rubens, and he who combined the merits of all, the 
 universal Van Dyck, and mark how boldly they confront 
 the Giottos, the disciples of Perugino, Titian himself, Paul 
 Veronese, Guido, and the Carracci. While they have 
 nothing to confound them even with Rembrandt, much less 
 the second-rate Dutch, with the Ostades or the Brouwers. 
 See our Van Dyck at Ghent, and some of those noble por- 
 traits, carrying us back to the moral grandeur, the stern 
 heroic devotion of a different age, which impress a glory on 
 his saints, and radiate from the noble heads which give life 
 to the walls of the palace of the Prince of Brussels. Com- 
 pared with these, what are the Dutch but models of their 
 own bambocciati 1 Our Flemish painters, inspired by the 
 example of Rubens and Van Dyck, travelled ; were men 
 of the world, and carried art and civilisation into other 
 lands. But the Dutch masters, still more than the French 
 and English, almost invariably remained at home.' I
 
 42 THE PALACE OF JUSTICE 
 
 ventured to remind the young enthusiast of his country's 
 art of not a few French, English, and even Dutch masters 
 who had travelled, and instanced the name of Wander no 
 inappropriate one for the occasion. ' They are examples, I 
 grant,' was the ingenious reply, ' but only to prove the truth 
 of my general observation ; and what was the use of travel, 
 when they all returned home, more English, French, and 
 Dutch, and yet more bambocciati, if I may so say, than 
 when they left it. It was different with the Flemish 
 school ; who was the master of Guido and first put him 
 into the right path, but our Calvaert, il Flamingo of Italy 1 
 Our Luigi Pozzo was the best landscape painter of his day ; 
 and Brill was better known in Venice and over all Italy 
 than many great Italians themselves. Our David Teniers 
 is in himself a host ! and our Grayer and Jordaens, both 
 masters in their several lines.' ' Still,' I observed, ' we 
 ought not to forget there have lived such men as Rem- 
 brandt, Paul Potter, and Gerard Dou.' 
 
 ' I know and appreciate them,' was the count's reply ; 
 ' I do not deny that they possessed positive merit, but of 
 a different, and, I believe, inferior kind. In our Flemish 
 school, as in those of Italy, however, there is a splendour 
 and a charm peculiar to them, and in both, I conceive, 
 national and original. And of both we may aver with the 
 felicitous enthusiasm of La Fontaine, the happy poet of 
 painting, in words which express the spirit of Flemish art 
 
 A de simples couleurs cet art plein de magie 
 
 Salt donner du relief, de 1'ame et de la vie. 
 
 Ce n'est rien qu'une toile, et 1'on croit voir un corps. 
 
 II eVoque a son gr les vivants et les morts ; 
 
 II transporte les yeux aux confins de la terre ; 
 
 II n'est 6venement, ni d'amour ni de guerre, 
 
 Que cet art n'ait enlin appris a tous les yeux. 
 
 ' You smile/ he continued, ' at my French, or perhaps at 
 my too great ardour of nationality, when speaking of our old 
 masters, and the respect with which I view the efforts of
 
 AT BRUGES 43 
 
 some of my living countrymen ; for if you have some good 
 names in England, we too have our Wappers, our Verbeck- 
 hoeven, De Keysers, Navez, the Braekeleer, the Paelinck, 
 and the Van Hanselaere, and more, who make worthy 
 essays to maintain the celebrity of our bold and truthful 
 national school. The history of Flemish art is that also 
 of discovery itself. Both Vasari, himself a painter, and 
 the historian Guicciardini, attribute to us that of painting 
 upon glass, and of carrying it to the highest degree of per- 
 fection ; in which art Von Hort, a citizen of Antwerp, dis- 
 tinguished himself above all others. 
 
 ' M. de Reiffenberg has proved, against the assertions of 
 Heylen, the justice of the Flemish claims on this point, 
 anterior to the reign of Charles V. Van Eyck was the 
 inventor of a coloured glass of an extraordinary strength 
 and vividness, subsequently introduced into France, and in 
 the sixteenth century into Italy. Who has not admired the 
 sombre beauty, the grand reflected lights of the glass in 
 St. Gudule at Brussels, painted by Jean Ack, of Antwerp, 
 by Jean Floris, and by Diepenbeeck 1 The beautiful speci- 
 mens at Tongerloo, and other places, which show the 
 triumph of this art, are scarcely inferior ; but so eagerly 
 were they sought by other nations that Belgium was soon 
 deprived of her earliest and finest products. Those of 
 Hoefnagel carried a high price, and were preferred by 
 judges to those of the Dutch Van Donder, or the Volsaks 
 of Germany. Miniature, in fact, was long perfected to 
 admiration in Flanders, while in France and other coun- 
 tries it was a mere cold exhibition of raw colours. It is 
 still more indisputable that Belgium and the world are 
 indebted to Van Eyck for the grand discovery of painting 
 in oil. Certain methods, indeed, of applying oils to paint- 
 ings were known ; but the grand art of mingling and using 
 them so as to produce new results was Van Eyck's ; that 
 of carrying it to perfection was due to Jean de Bruges.'
 
 44 
 ON A LADY PL A YING 
 
 (LADY WALLSCOURT-) 
 BY BARRY CORNWALL 
 
 i 
 
 ONCE more amongst those rich and golden strings 
 Wander with thy white arm, dear lady pale ; 
 And when at last from thy sweet discourse springs 
 The aerial music, like the dreams that veil 
 Earth's shadows with diviner thoughts and things, 
 Oh, let the passion and the time prevail ! 
 Oh, bid thy spirit thro' the mazes run ! 
 For music is like love and must be won ! 
 
 ii 
 
 Oh, wake the rich chords with thy delicate fingers ! 
 Oh, loose the enchanted Music from mute sleep ! 
 Methinks the fine Phantasma near thee lingers, 
 Yet will not come, unless tones strong and deep 
 Compel him Ah ! methinks (as love-avengers- 
 Requite upon the heads of those who weep 
 The sorrows which they gave) the sullen thing 
 Deserts thee, as thou left'st the vanquish'd string. 
 
 in 
 
 No no it comes, sweeter than death or life, 
 Sweeter than hope, or joy beneath the moon ; 
 Sweeter than all is that harmonious strife, 
 From whose embrace is born a perfect tune, 
 Where every varying note with thought is rife. 
 Now bid thy tender voice enchant us soon, 
 With whatsoe'er thou wilt with love with fears, 
 The rage of passion, or the strength of tears.
 
 Woodbury-Gravn* 
 
 THE LADY WALLSCOURT. 
 
 BY SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE, P.R.A.
 
 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE, IN 
 THE SUMMER OF 1839 
 
 BY LORD JOHN MANNERS 
 [Reprinted by permission of His Grace the Duke of Rutland, K. G.~\ 
 
 IT was now the end of July, and as our Rambles in 
 Spain were soon to be concluded, we determined to leave 
 our comfortable quarters at Ofiate, but were not a little 
 puzzled which way to bend our steps. Zaraetegui and 
 Madrazo had advised us by all means to make an incursion 
 into Navarre, and hinted at the probability of some real 
 fighting taking place in that province in a few days. On 
 the other hand, Don Sebastian and the Duke of Grenada 
 had invited the whole court to a week's festivities at 
 Azpeitia ; and Prince Carini and the young Frenchman 
 pressed us to accompany them thither. After some hesi- 
 tation, however, we decided in favour of Navarre ; and 
 accordingly, after dinner, on Monday, the 29th of July, 
 mounted our mules and started, under a scorching sun, on 
 our way to Estella, in which town Elio had fixed his 
 quarters. A beautiful ride of two hours brought us to the 
 brow of Sierra de Aralar, 1 whence a magnificent view over 
 a rich plain, glowing with the harvest, and studded with 
 
 1 A high chain of mountains, separating Guipuzcoa from the 
 kingdom of Navarre.
 
 46 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 villages and hamlets, burst upon us. Two hours more 
 sufficed to bring us down into a noble forest of oaks, 
 Spanish chesnut-trees, and ilexes, in which, just as the 
 evening shades began to prevail, we contrived to lose our 
 way. The muleteer, however, made a fortunate cast, and 
 we reached Alsasua, the first Navarrese village, in due 
 course of time, only, alas ! to be disappointed, for we had 
 intended to rest here for the night, and Alsasua possessed 
 no inn. Madrazo, however, who, with Zaraetegui, had pre- 
 ceded us by a day, had left a note for us in charge of the 
 officer in command, advising us to proceed to Iturmendi, a 
 league farther on, where we should find a posada, and to 
 join them the next morning at Aranaz. The officer insisted 
 on our taking two of his lancers to Iturmendi, one by way 
 of escort, to protect us against all Christinos and other ill- 
 disposed persons, and one to go on in front and order 
 supper ; so, when we arrived at the posada, very satisfac- 
 tory preparations were being made in the kitchen, and a 
 blazing wood fire looked very cheery and comfortable after 
 our long ride in the chill night air. The supper was good, 
 the sheets clean, and the beds flealess ; and sorry enough 
 was I to be routed up at half -past four the next morning, 
 in order to join our friends at Aranaz in good time. 
 
 A fat paymaster, or chief of the commissariat, I am not 
 sure which, in a striped calico jacket, with a huge pair of 
 pistols in his holsters, accompanied us on our road, which 
 lay through the valley of the Borunda, perhaps one of the 
 most fertile valleys in the world. Although war, in its 
 worst shape civil war had been raging now for well-nigh 
 six years, and neighbouring Pamplona could send out its 
 bands of harvest-burners, with but small chance of being 
 foiled in their work of destruction, still every inch of 
 ground was cultivated with the greatest care ; and the tall 
 Indian corn was waving half-way up the mountains on 
 either side of the valley. At every half-mile, also, a neat
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 47 
 
 village sent out its women and boys to the rich harvest. 
 Nothing, indeed, astonished us more in the whole of our 
 trip than the high state of cultivation of the country. It 
 was only when we got to the frontiers of the Carlist terri- 
 tory that any signs of war presented themselves ; and 
 even there the peasants would go about their accustomed 
 labours, while elsewhere peace and plenty seemed to reign 
 securely. 
 
 We arrived at Aranaz soon after the appointed hour, 
 but found our friends did not intend to start until after their 
 midday siesta, and that we were all to dine together at their 
 host's, the chief proprietor in the place. In the meantime 
 we witnessed a very curious operation viz., thrashing out 
 the corn. A large space is cleared and made ready by the 
 roadside ; into this the sheaves are brought, and spread out 
 in circles ; in the centre of each circle stands a woman, 
 armed with a long goad, or whip, by the constant applica- 
 tion of which she keeps in full trot two or three ponies, 
 harnessed to a couple of rough boards, that are studded 
 underneath with pieces of sharp iron. The sheaves are 
 thus in a short time reduced to powder, which is then 
 raked up, and the wheat separated from the chaff by the 
 very simple process of tossing them both in the air by a 
 kind of trident. The chaff is, of course, whisked away to a 
 distance by the wind, and the wheat falls to the ground ; 
 this again is passed through a sieve, and the business is 
 completed. The straw, it is true, is pulverised almost into 
 nothing, but it is not altogether lost, for most of it is after- 
 wards collected, and given to the horses and mules, which 
 are said to be very fond of it. 
 
 Soon after twelve we sat down to dinner : the party 
 consisted of Zaraetegui and Madrazo, who took the head 
 of the table, our fat friend of the commissariat, the curd 
 of the village, a friend of his, our host, and ourselves. As 
 this was the best specimen of a Spanish dinner I had an
 
 48 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 opportunity of seeing, I will give a short account of it. 
 First of all came a course of lettuces and salads ; then 
 the sopa, followed by a great dish of peas (the yellow 
 gervansos), and an equally formidable one of beans. Next 
 came the never-failing olio a capital dish, consisting of 
 pieces of boiled beef, or mutton, with potatoes and a few 
 gervansos, and little bits of bacon, with a sprig or so of rich 
 sausage by way of seasoning. Then followed several entrees 
 of chicken, <fec., all good in their way ; especially an omelet 
 of marrow and other funny materials. To these succeeded 
 the second course pigeons and fowls ; and then, miserably 
 out of place, a dish of most delicious fresh-caught trout : 
 stewed pears, and other sweets concluded the feast. The 
 wine was of Navarre, considerably stronger, and less pig- 
 skinny than any we had yet met with ; and after our coffee, 
 some most undeniable pale brandy, with an aniseed flavour, 
 was produced. 
 
 I sat next to the general, who not only played a remark- 
 ably good knife and fork himself, but was bent upon 
 seeing me do the same, and accordingly kept loading my 
 plate with the various good things in a very overpowering 
 manner. Altogether it was a very amusing dinner ; for, 
 though Zaraetegui spoke only Spanish, he could talk about 
 Byron and Washington Irving. Madrazo was talkative and 
 agreeable ; he was with Sir John Moore at Corufia ; and, 
 at the raising of the royal standard in 1833, was in com- 
 mand of the royal guards, which was also the regiment of 
 Zunialacarregui, Goni, Zaraetegui, Sanz, and other distin- 
 guished Carlists. 
 
 In the cool of the evening we set off in grand style ; 
 seven cavalleros, a dozen troopers, and a score of foot- 
 soldiers. This was the first and last time during our trip 
 that an escort was really necessary. That it was so now 
 the first village we passed through gave witness, for it had 
 been entered during the night by a band of Christines (said
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 49 
 
 to be two thousand strong) from Pamplona, who had carried 
 off' the wife of the last year's alcalde. 
 
 Tis thus they sally out to pillage 
 The hen-roost of some peaceful village ; 
 And while their neighbours were in bed 
 A hapless dame away have led. 
 
 Our friends surmised that the fat chief of the commis- 
 sariat was the object of this incursion ; and if so, as he had 
 slept within a few doors of us, what a mercy we were not 
 routed up in the middle of last night, and hurried away to 
 Pamplona ! We left the high road, and, riding through the 
 field on which these nocturnal heroes had halted and formed 
 previously to entering the village, turned aside into a rough 
 horse-track, which, after a long and toilsome ascent, 
 brought us to the top of a very high mountain. Just as 
 we reached the summit, an eagle, scared by our approach, 
 wheeled away majestically into the heavens, while the view 
 over the rich merindals of fair Navarre was magnificent. 
 Something very like smoke was descried in the plain 
 beneath, and occasioned a good deal of discussion, some aver- 
 ring it to be the smoke of a hapless village undergoing the 
 tender mercies of the Christinos, others opining it was only 
 fog, to which latter opinion, I must say, I leaned. The descent 
 was pronounced to be so dangerous that we were all made 
 to dismount and entrust our mules to the care of themselves 
 and the soldiers. What a picturesque appearance our party 
 made ! The officers in front with their gold-tasselled boynas 
 and shaggy zumarras ; the mules with their noses almost 
 touching the ground, carefully picking out their way ; some 
 of the troopers leading and coaxing their startled horses ; 
 others, more bold, remaining in their saddles ; the agile 
 foot-soldiers, in their 'sandal shoon,' with their light 
 muskets swung behind them, now jumping, like mountain 
 goats, from crag to crag, and now belabouring, with many 
 
 a rattling c o, a refractory mule ; all winding down, in 
 
 E
 
 50 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 irregular march, the steep defile, with their arms gleaming 
 and glittering in the blaze of a July sunset. At eight 
 o'clock we entered Olio, a little village girt round with 
 mountains, in which we meant to pass the night. It was, 
 as may be supposed, no easy matter to find quarters for us 
 all ; but, such was the good-will and hospitality shown 
 that, after some consultation between the curd and the 
 alcalde, they were secured, and at ten o'clock we sat down 
 to a most capital supper, in the house of the latter. A 
 merrier party I never was at, and the curd was the life and 
 soul of it eating for two, drinking for a dozen, girding at 
 the Ingleses as borrachos, drunkards, which seemed to be 
 the idea generally entertained of us in these parts ; anathe- 
 matising the French, against whom he had borne arms in 
 the war of the constitution, and cutting jokes innumerable, 
 and to me, alas ! unintelligible. Opposite him sat a grey- 
 headed patriarch, who inquired eagerly after ' Sir Cotton,' 
 Lord Combermere, who had been quartered for some time 
 in his house, and would seem to have filled the unsophisti- 
 cated inhabitants of Olio with wonderment at the magni- 
 ficence of his dressing-case and plate. After supper the 
 curd, the very bodily impersonation of Friar Tuck, insisted 
 on being measured against Granby and myself ; but, alas 
 for the pride of Olio ! we both beat him, and while he con- 
 fessed himself vanquished, the laughing damsels who had 
 waited at table exclaimed it was the first time they had 
 seen taller men than their curd, and to think that they 
 should be heretic Englishmen ! 
 
 While we were waiting for supper accounts were 
 brought to Zaraetegui of the action, such as it was, of the 
 preceding night ; by which it appeared that the capture of 
 the ex-alcalde's wife did not go altogether unavenged, for, 
 before the marauders had got well out of the fastnesses, the 
 Carlists had collected in considerable numbers, though still 
 inferior to their enemies, and, from the character of the 
 ground, and their intimate knowledge of it, had occasioned
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 51 
 
 them some loss. They killed thirty of the Zaragossa 
 regiment, called el negro, the black, which neither gave nor 
 received quarter. As Pamplona was but a few miles dis- 
 tant, we did not retire to rest without some apprehensions 
 of a visit from its ' martial men,' so our mules were kept 
 saddled and bridled, and scouts were placed on the look-out 
 in the dreaded direction. The gentlemen, however, had 
 either been sickened by their reception last night, or wist 
 not that so rich a prize was, as it were, in their clutches. 
 We therefore rose at daybreak, free to continue our march. 
 The sunrise lights on the wooded mountains we had now to 
 ascend were most beautiful : and as the day wore on, and 
 we descended into the hot and scorched plain, I sighed for 
 shade of the stately oaks and beeches we had left behind ; 
 for, however well vines and olives may sound in poetry, they 
 are in sober truth but sorry substitutes for homelier trees, 
 and afford no shade to weary travellers. Estella, which 
 we reached before noon, is built partially on a rock, at the 
 end of a rich valley, through which the Ega, a broad green 
 river, flows, and is the largest and most thriving town I 
 saw during our trip. As the capital of Carlist Navarre, it 
 naturally possessed considerable importance, and its trade 
 seemed very brisk. The country immediately round it is 
 one fertile garden, and the Estella tomatos have acquired a 
 Dunstable lark sort of reputation. In the afternoon Granby 
 and I walked by the green river's side for a mile or so, until 
 we discovered a sheltered nook, as we fondly thought, to 
 bathe in ; but, to our great dismay, we had not nearly com- 
 pleted our toilet, when, with slow and measured tread, a 
 whole friary of ' orders brown ' marched by. Madrazo, 
 who, with Zaraetegui, had taken up their abode in a friend's 
 house, brought Elio, the Captain-General of Navarre, to 
 call on us in the evening. The latter realised my notion of 
 a preux-paladin of chivalry ; strikingly handsome, tall 
 and well-made, with the best blood of Navarre in his veins, 
 
 E2
 
 52 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 the idol of his soldiers, and the dread of his foes, uniting 
 the most daring personal bravery with great modesty and 
 humanity, this young hero fully justified by his conduct and 
 fidelity the confidence reposed in him by his master. The 
 noble manner in which he rejected all Maroto's offers, and 
 hastened to protect, at the risk of his own life, the person 
 of his king, in the hour of danger, when hearts were failing, 
 and no one knew whom to trust, have rendered his name 
 one which the loyal Navarrese, and all to whom loyalty 
 and valour are still dear, ' will not willingly let die.' Our 
 good padrona was lost in wonderment at so great an event 
 as a visit from ' el general ' to any inmates of her house ; 
 ' such a thing had never happened to her before,' and she 
 thought it might never happen again, so she bustled back- 
 wards and forwards into the room, and out of it, every five 
 minutes. Elio pressed us to stay some days, adding that, 
 as Diego Leon persisted in his cowardly system of burning 
 the harvest, and answered his remonstrances with insolence, 
 he was straining every nerve to come to a decisive action, 
 and expected to succeed in doing so in less than a week. 
 When we had refused his invitation, which we were forced 
 to do from want of time, he insisted on sending an aide-de- 
 camp in the morning to conduct us to the lines at Dicas- 
 tello, whence we should be able to form a good idea of the 
 theatre of war in Navarre. Accordingly, at five o'clock on 
 the morning of the 1st of August, Eraso, a handsome, 
 noble-looking young man, presented himself at the door, 
 and we set out under his guidance ; his father, as is well 
 known, signalised his devotion to the cause by resigning the 
 chief command, to which he was fully entitled, in favour of 
 Zumalacarregui. We passed by the church which had 
 witnessed the execution of the ill-fated generals in February 
 ''68 ; but, as this is not the place for attempting to clear up 
 the mystery which hangs over that transaction, I will only 
 here add that our buxom landlady, who looked the picture
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 53 
 
 of good-humour and kindliness, averred that, with the ex- 
 ception of Carmona, who was much liked, the fate of none 
 of the generals was lamented in Estella. I happened to 
 mention this, some time afterwards, to Madrazo, upon 
 which he shook his head, and said Carmona was the worst 
 because the cleverest of them all. 
 
 Our road lay along a line of low hills, forming the 
 bounds of the Carlist territories ; the plain country being 
 all more or less in the hands of the Christinos. As far as 
 the eye could reach, nothing in the shape of vegetation, 
 save thirsty-looking olives and dwarf vines, was to be seen, l 
 and the sun was most oppressively hot. A ride of two 
 hours brought us to Dicastello, near which I, being the 
 last, was twice asked by women whether Eraso, who was 
 prancing on in front on a high-mettled charger, was not el 
 general, in tones indicative of such awe and anxiety that I 
 could not refrain from laughing. 
 
 Dicastello is built on the farthest point of the above 
 mentioned range of hills, and from Elio's house we com- 
 manded a most extensive view over the plains of Navarre, 
 up to the dimly-seen mountains of Aragon and New Castile 
 in the distance. It was in that part of the plain close to 
 the town that Elio gained his last victory ; and an intelli- 
 gent French officer, who had been fourteen years in the 
 Spanish service, now gave us the details ; from which it 
 appeared that, on the night of the 17tb of July, a thousand 
 Christino troopers, each carrying a foot-soldier behind him, 
 rode out of Larraga, with the intention of burning the 
 harvest of as many villages as they could. Dicastello was 
 the first place they honoured with their notice, and, on 
 approaching it, the foot-soldiers jumped off, and proceeded 
 to make a feeble attempt against the town, while the 
 troopers set fire to the fields. The Carlists easily beat back 
 
 1 The corn was now all housed; all at least that had escaped the 
 midnight torches of the Christinas.
 
 54 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 the assailants, and, in the confusion of the retreat, two 
 companies managed to steal unobserved into a vineyard on 
 the left of the Christino horse, and pour in a volley ; this 
 threw them into confusion, and a charge from the Carlist 
 cavalry, four hundred strong, speedily decided the action, 
 such as it was. This, I believe, had been the character of 
 all the actions in Biscay and Navarre for the preceding six 
 months. The energies of both parties were almost exhausted, 
 and, like worn-out gladiators, they painfully stood their 
 ground, gazing on one another, and every now and then 
 aiming a feeble and ineffectual blow at their adversary. 
 Twenty thousand pounds would have given an overwhelm- 
 ing preponderance to either side. The Frenchman was 
 very conversable, and spoke his mind on most subjects so 
 freely that I thought I might venture to ask his opinion 
 of Maroto ; but no ; at the mention of that dreaded name, 
 he sank his voice into a whisper, and, with a hurried glance 
 at the Spaniards who were conversing in a group hard by, 
 ' begged to be excused, as he made it a rule never to talk 
 on that subject.' Maroto most certainly had acquired a 
 wonderful influence when, at the mention of his name, a 
 talkative Frenchman, attached to another army, and separ- 
 ated from his by mountains and rivers, grew silent and 
 reserved ; my wonder is, not that he succeeded in bringing 
 over so many regiments with him, but that he failed in 
 bringing them all. As to Diego Leon, our friend declared 
 he was a perfect brute, with no one redeeming good quality, 
 save that of brute courage ; and as, previously to the break- 
 ing out of the war, they had been for some years in the 
 same regiment, I suppose he spoke from personal experi- 
 ence. Indeed, nothing could be more contemptuous than 
 the way in which he expressed himself of the Christinos ; 
 whose utmost exploit was sallying out on a pillaging expe- 
 dition from some walled town, and returning thither again. 
 ' But, alas ! ' said he, ' what can be more miserable than
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 55 
 
 my life here 1 Only a few of my brother- officers can speak 
 French ; nearly all of them are profoundly illiterate ; and 
 as for society, there is none ! In the winter, to be sure, 
 we get a little snipe-shooting ; but otherwise, unless the 
 Christines take pity on me, and give us something to do, I 
 am without amusement of any kind.' 
 
 Of Elio he spoke in high terms, saying he had but one 
 fault he was too brave, and exposed his person too much. 
 Dicastello had been entered last year by the Christinos, and 
 the general's house, by its still black and naked walls, gave 
 sure tokens of their friendly visit. Having seen what was 
 to be seen, and heard what was to be heard, we returned to 
 Estella ; and, after dinner, having bade adieu to our kind 
 friends, Madrazo and Zaraetegui, started, by a different 
 road from that we had come by, for Ofiate. Our path lay 
 through a most picturesque valley, by the side of the green 
 Ega ; at one time overshadowed by magnificent crags, rising 
 straight over our heads, at another winding through groves 
 of huge old oaks and beeches, and holm oaks. Out of one 
 of these groves we emerged into a most perfect natural 
 amphitheatre, as regular as though it had been formed by 
 art ; and on the further side of the hills that encircled it 
 in our front, lay Seudidi, our destined place of rest. The 
 posada, perched on a broad ledge of rock, overhanging the 
 river, presented, as we made our way into it, a most strange 
 appearance. In the low stable on the ground-floor of the 
 inn, which resembled in its arrangements a stable-booth at 
 Ascot races, there must have been from thirty to forty 
 mules and ponies ; while men, women, and children pigs, 
 clogs, cats, and fowls swearing, laughing, grunting, bark- 
 ing, mewing, and cackling, were huddled together upstairs 
 and downstairs, in most admired confusion. With great 
 difficulty we procured a room, with a sconce stuck into the 
 handle of the door by way of a candle, which had the 
 double merit of giving no light if the door was closed, and
 
 56 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 flickering in the wind and going out occasionally if it was 
 open. We begged for some supper, which was a weary time 
 ere it appeared. In the next room, a good deal of groaning 
 and tumbling about was going on, and I began to fear that 
 its unfortunate occupant was sick, or dying, when, lo and 
 behold ! the door was suddenly thrown open, and a buxom, 
 hearty-looking dame emerged, vociferating, in the loudest 
 tones, that of all the vile holes she ever had been in, this 
 was the vilest ; and, in order to prove that she had reason 
 for what she said, she insisted on our inspecting the couch 
 on which she had so restlessly been trying to rest. We did 
 so, and the sight that met our eyes was most unnaturally 
 shocking a living, moving .bed ! The lady called for her 
 mule, paid her reckoning, and went on her way, leaving us 
 to a night of misery, such as I never spent before, and hope 
 I shall never spend again. 
 
 The supper, consisting of delicious trout, that had 
 jumped out of the river not an hour since, but quite spoiled 
 and made uneatable by the nauseous rancid oil with which 
 they had been drenched, and new-laid eggs, at length 
 appeared. The inn possessed but one glass, as all the 
 others had been carried off by the Christines during Rodil's 
 incursion I think our padrona said in '34 and she had 
 not thought it worth while to replace them. 
 
 Now came the nervous duty of preparing for the night. 
 In an adjoining room were three beds ; but after the speci- 
 mens we had seen of the Seudidi pulgas and chinchas, 1 none 
 of us were disposed to take them upon trust. Ranelagh 
 declared he would sleep on the heavy oak table, off which 
 we had supped, and with considerable labour we effected its 
 removal ; upon this he spread the sheets, and lay down. 
 Granby, after a minute inspection, with the deliberation 
 and courage of a martyr, undressed and turned in ; while 
 I, more timid, spread my cloak outside the bed, and rolling 
 1 Fleas and their cousins.
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 57 
 
 myself, clothes and all, up in it, blew out the light. I had 
 hardly done so when Ranelagh started up, swearing his 
 couch was so hard and so cold that patience could endure 
 no longer, and that he should lie on the floor ; so up we 
 got, and, with a deal of tugging and hauling in the darlo 
 lugged the disgraced table out of the room, and Ranelagh 
 deposited his sheets and himself on the floor, pretty nearly 
 tilling up the void between the beds. What possessed us I 
 don't know, for it was surely no laughing matter ; but laugh 
 we did, till we could laugh no more ; at length peace was 
 restored, Ranelagh fell audibly asleep, and I began to enter- 
 tain some faint hopes, malgrado the fleas, who now began 
 to make themselves felt, of doing the same. But no ! it 
 was now Granby's turn ; he had been mercilessly punished 
 for his temerity, and finding, beyond a doubt, that the 
 place was too hot to hold him, arose, like a troubled spirit, 
 ;md proceeded to lay his lacerated body by the side of his 
 peacefully reposing fellow-traveller. Now, although we 
 had seen nothing which could excite a suspicion as to the 
 honest intentions of any of our numerous fellow-lodgers, 
 still the wild and uncouth aspect of the place, and the 
 mere fact of there being some thirty or forty people 
 quartered in and about the house, rendered it prudent for 
 us to be on our guard, and Ranelagh had laid his pistols by 
 his side, with a determination to be quick in using them if 
 required. I foresaw what would happen : after a stumble 
 or two, stump went Granby on Ranelagh 's nose ; a hasty 
 grunt, in Spanish, was as hastily followed by the click of a 
 pistol, and Heaven knows what might have followed had 
 not Granby sung out most lustily in English. Sleep was 
 now out of the question, and I lay on my ' vermin-couch,' 
 tumbling and tossing, suffering the pains of purgatory 
 until the first blush of dawn, when Granby and I hurried 
 down the rocks, at the risk of our necks, to the brawl- 
 ing river, and in its icy water forgot the miseries of
 
 58 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 the most miserable night it was ever my misfortune to 
 spend. 
 
 The fresh morning air, after our bracing bathe, was 
 delicious, as we worked our way up to the Amescoas 
 through picturesque beech-woods, overhanging the valley. 
 The Amescoas are great uneven plains, at the summit of 
 an extensive chain of hills, partly covered with forests, 
 with large clear portions of grass, and rocks here and there. 
 Our road lay through that part of them in which Zumala- 
 carregui so completely defeated Valdez's large and well- 
 appointed army ; and it was from the top of the pass which 
 took us down into the Borunda that, on the afternoon of 
 the 22nd of April, 1835, his two sentinels descried the 
 Christino masses, twenty thousand strong, slowly and care- 
 lessly winding up the gorge of the valley, and commencing 
 the toilsome ascent. Most commanders would, I think, 
 have been tempted, from the great facilities it affords of 
 destroying an ascending army, to dispute the pass ; but the 
 wary hero had laid a deeper and a safer plan. Immediately 
 and silently, and without being observed, he withdrew his 
 men to the furthest thickets of the Amescoas, and there 
 lay concealed, while his unsuspecting victims were carousing 
 in their mountain bivouac after their painful march, until, 
 at the dead of night, when all were buried in security and 
 slumber, he precipitated himself on them. An utter dis- 
 persion followed, and in an hour's time the army of the 
 boastful Valdez had ceased to exist. 
 
 We dismounted, and descended into the Borunda on foot, 
 but the sun was too powerful to allow much walking, 
 and very thankful was I when, at half -past ten, we entered 
 the wood on the other side of the Alsagua, in which we 
 had lost our way in the beginning of the week. Here we 
 met a regiment marching to Elio's quarters ; the men were 
 looking hot and distressed and foot -sore, but many were 
 singing, and all seemed tolerably well clothed and well fed, 
 though, to be sure, some of the officers would not have been
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 59 
 
 the worse for new uniforms. We were told they were a 
 Cantabrian regiment, which Maroto had exchanged for the 
 Navarrese Guides, with Elio, as Espartero had been offering 
 very seductive reasons to induce them to return to their 
 homes at Santander, &c. ; subsequent events, however, 
 make me, I confess, very sceptical as to Maroto's motives. 
 An hour's ride through the wood brought us to a river, 
 by the bank of which we unburthened our mules, and made 
 preparations for a comfortable dinner and siesta. The 
 indiarubber wine-flask was popped under a large stone in 
 the river, and while we bathed the muleteer tried, but in 
 vain, to tickle some trout. At midday we sat down to 
 our simple dinner, patulce sub tegminefagi, with prodigious 
 appetites, and found, to our great delight, that the cold 
 running stream had most effectually iced the wine, so that 
 our only sorrow was that the flask held no more than it did. 
 Then came an hour's grateful and flealess slumber, under 
 the beechen shade, and we resumed our march to Ofiate ; 
 but, instead of re-crossing the mountains we had travelled 
 before, we kept the plain until we had nearly reached 
 Segura, and then turned up to the left, by some iron mines, 
 which extend along nearly the whole side of the Sierra de 
 Mutiloa, and are very productive. Their wild unearthly- 
 looking inhabitants came out of their dens and caverns to 
 gaze in surprise at us as we wound up the mountain ; in 
 truth, the path we had taken was very little frequented, 
 and these Titans were all unaccustomed to strangers ; more 
 perfect ' salvages ' I never beheld, and yet they, too, had a 
 kind word and greeting for the travellers. It was after 
 ten o'clock ere we found ourselves established once more, 
 and for the last time, in our snug lodgings at Ofiate, having 
 been journeying for seventeen hours. Our fair hostess 
 astonished us with the news that the King, having returned 
 from the festivities of Azpeitia, started almost immediately, 
 with his whole court, for Tolosa, whither we must follow 
 him if we wished to pay our respects to him before leaving
 
 60 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 his kingdom. Whether this sudden step was taken from 
 an inkling of the treason that was working around him, and 
 a consequent anxiety to be nearer that friendly prison- 
 house, France, I know not ; but we were told that, ever 
 since Rodil's memorable pursuit of him, in 1834, the King 
 had been in the habit of moving from place to place at an 
 hour's notice, and the Queen and her ladies were frequently 
 put to no small inconvenience from the brief time allowed 
 them to prepare for their departure. Be this as it may, the 
 royal bird had flown, and Ofiate, in consequence, resembled 
 a city of the dead. Not being able to find four mules in 
 time, we remained the next day in this ' deserted village ' ; 
 and, truth to say, I was not sorry to get one day's rest 
 after our racketing excursion into Navarre. In the even- 
 ing, the two good priests, having heard of our return, came 
 to pay us a farewell visit, and the communicative one told 
 a curious anecdote of his fellow-townsman, Raymon Cabrera, 
 whom he worshipped with an intensity of adoration that 
 would have, in these dull, unheroic days, delighted even the 
 hero-worshipping Thomas Carlyle. ' Once, not long after 
 the commencement of hostilities, the chieftain's band, in 
 those days mustering barely one hundred men, was entirely 
 dispersed, and he found himself, with two companions, 
 wandering wearily and hungrily among his native moun- 
 tains. He soon got tired of this vagrancy, and hit on the 
 following bold expedient for revictualling himself and re- 
 assembling his band. It was midday, and he turned to his 
 companions, ordering one to approach in one direction, and 
 the other in another, a little village called Lledo, in the 
 plain below them, and to keep firing off their guns at 
 intervals, while he himself would march straight up to the 
 alcalde's house. So it turned out : he rapped fiercely at the 
 alcalde's door ; bang on the right ! another thundering rap 
 at the door ; bang on the left ! " Valgame Dios ! " cries the 
 frightened mayor, starting up from his troubled siesta ;
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 61 
 
 " who's there ? What do you want ? " More shots, and 
 Cabrera answers "Tis the advanced guard ; Cabrera (even 
 then a dreaded name) must have rations for two hundred 
 men left, by such an hour in the evening, in the forest hard 
 by, or you know the alternative ! " No more is said, and 
 the rations are provided. Cabrera soon found himself at 
 the head of his former followers, and his band, 
 
 One by one, and two by two, 
 Into a mighty squadron grew, 
 
 until now, on him and his movements, are bent the eyes 
 of thousands, and the fisherman's son, the sacristan of 
 Tortosa, the Count of Morella, upholds, almost singly, the 
 high and holy cause of loyalty and religion in Spain.' l 
 
 When I told the priest that we were about to go into 
 Switzerland, he seemed for some time incredulous, and, 
 opening his eyes very wide, exclaimed ' hombre ! ' several 
 times. At last he asked, ' Why Switzerland ? what good 
 can you do the cause there ? ' so fully persuaded was he, as 
 well as others, that our visit was not one of pure curiosity. 
 As we intended to start very early the next morning, in 
 order to reach Tolosa ere midday, we bade adieu to our kind 
 padrona over-night ; and there was something very mourn- 
 ful and prophetic in the tone of her voice, as she hoped 
 that, if the Christines succeeded, and she was forced to 
 leave her home and fly to England, we would not forget our 
 sejour at Ofiate. Heaven knows what was her fate, when, 
 in less than a month from the time, Ofiate was delivered 
 into the hands of the Christinos. 
 
 It was pitch dark when, at three o'clock in the morning 
 of the 4th of August, we left Ofiate, and a pretty constant 
 drizzle for the first three hours gave promise of a rainy 
 day ; but no ; it cleared up, and we had neither sun, nor 
 rain, nor dust, to molest us during the remainder of our 
 
 1 This was written just before the conclusion of the war.
 
 62 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 march. In a little village, not far from Villafranca, in the 
 middle of a moderately-sized garden, stands the modest 
 white-washed cottage in which Zumalacarregui was born ; 
 his widow was living there. Villafranca, a curious old 
 walled town, still bore marks of the vigorous manner in 
 which the hero besieged it, many of the houses being quite 
 riddled with shots, and part of the wall in a most dilapi- 
 dated state. This was, I believe, the first fortified town 
 taken by Zumalacarregui, and the famous ' Grandfather ' 
 constituted his park of artillery. We arrived at Tolosa 
 before midday, and in the evening sauntered about the 
 town, which presented a much gayer appearance than it did 
 the first time we entered it. Its paseos (for Tolosa boasts 
 two) were crowded, and under the trees, to the pipe and 
 tabor, lads and lasses were tripping lightsomely along, to the 
 same measure as we had seen danced at Ofiate, but with 
 more spirit, while the seiloras and caballeros walked gravely 
 up and down the shady avenues, ever and anon pausing in 
 front of some merry group, and applauding their joyous 
 movements. Here we fell in with Seilor Ramirez de la 
 Pescina, 1 and several other friends, and, adjourning with 
 them to the Tolosa Gunter's, discussed, over some capital 
 ices, the merits of the duke's and Lord Clarendon's speeches, 
 which the last post had brought. 
 
 Monday, 5th. I managed to-day to talk a little Spanish 
 to Starico, Count Casa d'Eguia's nephew, who assured me 
 that the troops had not received any pay for the last eight 
 months, and seemed, very naturally, to anticipate the worst 
 consequences therefrom. Maroto's designs were now draw- 
 ing near their fulfilment. In the course of the day I bought 
 some boynas and Carlist buttons, as souvenirs of the pro- 
 vinces at the shop of a good lady who was in St. Sebastian 
 when the legionities entered, but escaped out of it sub- 
 sequently. She affirmed with perfect truth, I dare say 
 1 At that time Secretary of State and Despatch.
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 63 
 
 that the men were muy ordinarios, but allowed some of the 
 officers to be Jtnos, and of grandes casas. 
 
 After the evening ices we proceeded to the palace 
 much the same kind of house as that at Oftate, but a little 
 larger to pay our farewell respects to their majesties- 
 While we were waiting to be introduced to their presence, 
 Seners Erro and Villareal came, and talked to us. From 
 the former we learned that the harvest, which had just been 
 got in, was unusually plenteous, and that they had still in 
 the provinces cattle and sheep sufficient for carrying on the 
 war four or five more years. Their majesties received us 
 as affably as they had done on the former occasion, but the 
 young prince was not present. The King's laugh is a 
 peculiar one, and not easy to be described. Having thanked 
 him most sincerely for the great kindness and hospitality 
 we had encountered in every part of bis mountain kingdom, 
 from high and low, and taken leave of Sefior Ramirez and 
 other friends, we retired to our flea-inhabited couches. 
 
 Tuesday, 6th. Up at daybreak : obliged, for the first 
 time since crossing the Pyrenees, to object to the bill : for 
 seventeen douros was too exorbitant a demand ; and our 
 landlady, after some opposition and much grumbling, con- 
 sented to take thirteen. This important point settled, we 
 started with Prince Carini and Count de Blacas for the 
 lines the famous lines of Andoain. At Villabona, General 
 
 's head-quarters, we stopped, and procured a capital 
 
 cicerone in the person of his aide-de-camp, Captain Vial, 
 under whose guidance we made a complete tour of the lines, 
 which are triple, and entirely command the Hernani road. 
 They were finished two years ago, by the Carlists, under the 
 superintendence of German artillery officers, and appeared 
 to my unpractised, unmilitary eye, to be very perfect. 
 Vial, from one of the highest positions, gave an animated 
 account of the action which dispossessed the Christines of 
 them, and inveighed with much warmth on the spirit of
 
 64 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 wanton cruelty which actuated them in their retreat to set 
 fire to the cottages of the helpless peasantry, in which they 
 had been living. But more eloquent than his words were 
 the still black and roofless hamlets themselves. 
 
 The Christine fort of Santa Barbara, crowning a hill a 
 few miles off, was glittering in the sun, and with the aid of 
 a telescope I was able to discover St. Sebastian in the dis- 
 tance to the right. Having seen what was to be seen, and 
 taken leave of our companions, we turned our mules towards 
 France, and speedily struck into the same mountain track 
 we had travelled a month ago, on our entrance into Spain. 
 About noon we reached the same pleasant chestnut-grove, on 
 the brow of the hills, under which we had then dined ; nor 
 did we this time lose so favourable an opportunity of dis- 
 cussing the chickens and hard-boiled eggs we had brought 
 from Tolosa. I thought the scenery, as we rode along the 
 mountain-tops, still more magnificent than when, for the 
 first time, I gazed down upon St. Sebastian ; and, ere we 
 commenced descending into the dell in which Goyzueta is 
 situated, we turned to take ' one last fond look ' at as 
 glorious a picture of mountain and wood and valley, with 
 the blue white-crisped sea beyond, and the still bluer. sky 
 above, as eye ever lighted on. Presently we fell in with a 
 roving party of voluntaries ; and now, for the first time, 
 we might have perceived signs of lawlessness and insubor- 
 dination harbingers of the storm which was soon to burst 
 in the promising offer one of them made to the sturdy 
 muleteer, of a pesetto for Ranelagh's sword, which he was 
 carrying. Nothing unpleasant, however, ensued ; and they 
 proceeded on their way into the interior, and we, on our 
 part, reached Goyzueta at five o'clock without let or hin- 
 drance. I bathed, for the last time, in Spanish waters, in the 
 Urumea, which rises in the mountains which surround the 
 village, and produced some most delicious trout for our early 
 supper, after which we speedily turned into the coarse but
 
 IX THE SUMMER OF 1839 65 
 
 clean beds, as we had strictly charged the muleteers to call 
 us at half -past two next morning. This, however, they did 
 not do, alleging perhaps with reason that the frontiers 
 were in so disturbed a state, that it would not have been 
 safe to travel before daybreak ; and so it was four ere we 
 sallied forth from Goyzueta. The morning breeze, wafted 
 from the sea, was exquisitely fresh, and the sun was rising 
 magnificently among the mountains, while the hundred 
 different sorts of fern and heath, and brightly-coloured wild 
 flowers, and long dank grasses were gleaming and glistening 
 and sending out their sweetest odours under the heavy 
 dew heavy enough, to my certain knowledge, for at one 
 time sleep so completely overpowered me that I was forced, 
 in order to escape falling off, to quit my mule and walk 
 for a mile or so. The maize which is not cut till October 
 was growing luxuriantly in the valley, or rather dell, in 
 which stands Vera ; and I observed a good deal of balm- 
 mint between its long stalks. We rode into Vera between 
 eleven and twelve o'clock, and found our buxom padrona 
 delighted to see us again ; and, although some peseteros had 
 menaced the village only the day before, and so alarmed the 
 inhabitants that they had removed most of their chattels to 
 a place of safety, she instantly brought out the hats which 
 we had entrusted to her, and busied herself in preparing as 
 good a dinner for the tres Ingleses as her cuisine could pro- 
 duce. As it was a fast-day she had no meat to offer us, 
 but the most voracious Protestant that ever breathed need 
 not have grumbled at the fish-dinner we sat down to. There 
 were lettuces, and salad, and the good bread sopa and stewed 
 eels, and dressed craw-fish, and trout most fresh and 
 delicate, and new-laid eggs, with very good wine and bread ; 
 and then, after dinner, a cup of coffee and glass of right 
 good aguardiente and all for the moderate charge of four 
 shillings and twopence, English money. The commandant 
 of Vera, a funny little man in a round jacket, with sandals 
 
 p
 
 66 NOTES OF A SPANISH RAMBLE 
 
 on his feet, came after dinner to offer us a couple of his 
 voluntaries as an escort, ' for the frontiers,' he said, ' are 
 not just at present very quiet.' They accompanied us, 
 accordingly, to the boundary line ; but our only stoppage 
 was by the Carlist custom-house officers, just outside Vera 
 and a pretty absurd farce this same stoppage was : all the 
 trunks and boxes were taken off, and placed on the grass 
 under the trees, and then, with great gravity and gentleness, 
 did two or three huge wild-looking Carlist soldiers proceed 
 to search for ' papers against the King, and Spanish money.' 
 From the wretched turn affairs were so soon to take, the 
 hunt after the first-mentioned article was, I doubt not, very 
 right and necessary ; but, as to Spanish or other money? 
 few people, I imagine, leaving the provinces, were over- 
 burdened in that way, and we certainly were not, for it was 
 with great difficulty that we could scrape together pesetos 
 sufficient to reward our trusty conductors. In spite, how- 
 ever, of all our protestations of loyalty and poverty (too 
 often, alas ! convertible terms), search they would, and 
 search they did, and so half an hour was lost in this silly 
 manner. When it was over we proceeded smoothly enough 
 along a beautiful path winding through the bosom of the 
 mountains, until we arrived at the French boundary custom- 
 house. Here our guards left us, and returned to Vera ; 
 while we endeavoured, for a minute or two, to brazen the 
 affair out as we best could ; but the commissary soon con- 
 vinced us of the inutility of all such attempts by saying, 
 with a significant smile : ' Oh, gentlemen ! don't trouble 
 yourselves ; I know you very well : you crossed the frontiers 
 on the night of the 8th of last month, and I have received 
 strict orders to examine all your papers and letters, as you 
 are greatly suspected.' 
 
 This was pleasant ! but there was no help for it ; and 
 Ranelagh remonstrated in vain. We were deprived of our 
 arms, and papers, and passports, and I had the mortification
 
 IN THE SUMMER OF 1839 67 
 
 of seeing a letter which a grateful Carlist officer had 
 entrusted me with to deliver to somebody who had been 
 kind to him Avhile an exile in England seized among others 
 I assured the commissary that it was but a letter I was 
 going to put into the post at Bayonne. ' Doubtless,' said 
 he ; ' but the writing is Spanish.' When they had brought 
 their ransacking to a close we were marched off into 
 Urruna, guarded by two gendarmes, who informed us we 
 had a narrow escape the night we crossed the Pyrenees, for 
 they had received intelligence as to our movements, and 
 were only twenty minutes behind us. Our faithful mule- 
 teers did not at all relish the idea of being marched into a 
 French town like criminals ; and one of them, a perfect 
 giant, and a great wag, made me laugh heartily, in spite of 
 our disconsolate position, by the semi-lugubrious, semi- 
 comical manner in which he pinched my arm, and whispered 
 prigionero as we entered the village. It was market-day : 
 and while our carriage was being ferreted out of its hiding- 
 place and made ready for a start, I amused myself by re- 
 marking the peculiar costume and burly forms of the French 
 Basque farmers. After a while, the gendarmes who now 
 managed everything announced that the horses were put 
 to, and, getting up into the dicky behind, we entered the 
 britchska, and off we went. On arriving, at half-past nine, 
 at Bayonne, we were taken before the prefect's secretary, 
 who, in a few minutes, civilly enough dismissed us to tea 
 and to bed. The next day the various things which had 
 been seized were restored to us, and so ended our ' Trip 
 across the Spanish Frontier.'
 
 68 
 
 THE PLAZA REAL AND THE CATHE- 
 DRAL, SEVILLE, WITH THE PROCES- 
 SION OF THE CORPUS CHRIST I 
 CEREMONY 
 
 BY THOMAS ROSCOE 
 
 THE Plaza Real, one of the most spacious squares in 
 Seville, contains, among other edifices, the town hall and 
 courts of justice. The corner of the latter is seen to the 
 right, from the point of view chosen by the artist, as repre- 
 sented in the annexed view. The architectural decorations 
 are of the most elaborate description, the work of a cele- 
 brated sculptor in the time of the Emperor Charles V. 
 Considered in detail, they are of the most exquisite work- 
 manship ; but as a whole the effect is not good, being at 
 variance with all our ideas of simplicity and true taste. In 
 a national view, however, it may be questioned how far our 
 own notions in this respect approach nearer than those of 
 the Moors assuredly more wild and fanciful to the ideal of 
 decorative beauty and taste. With all the extravagances 
 and complicated variety of their system, and to what- 
 ever singular results it may sometimes lead, the artist, if I 
 may judge from his written opinions, is inclined to give the 
 preference to their principles, which he thinks superior to 
 tameness and uniformity. The houses which surround the 
 Plaza Real are of great antiquity, and assort well with the 
 general aspect of the place, and with the magnificent cathe- 
 dral by which the view is bounded.
 
 THE PLAZA REAL AND CATHEDRAL, SEVILLE 69 
 
 The grand ceremony of the Corpus Christi, as it here 
 appears in its most gorgeous array, is known to be one of 
 the most solemn and important of religious festivals. In 
 Seville especially, it is one to which strangers from all parts 
 of Spain eagerly resort, at whatever expense or inconveni- 
 ence. Over the entire line of streets through which the 
 procession moves awnings are suspended ; but these, in the 
 plate before us, the artist, for the sake of showing the noble 
 back-ground, has not introduced. In front of the proces- 
 sion is borne the banner of the cathedral, the staff and 
 decorations of which are of silver and gold. On the flag 
 itself is introduced a representation of the Last Supper. 
 Immediately behind is carried the Mystery of the Potter's 
 Daughters, whose effigies are seen supporting the Giralda. 
 Lest the reader should not be so fortunate as to have met 
 with the history of these two ladies, be it known that they 
 were two of the first, if not the very first, who suffered 
 martyrdom on the introduction of Christianity into this 
 part of Spain. On this account, it is difficult to express 
 the degree of veneration in which they are held throughout 
 their native suburb of the Triana, where the potter himself 
 is esteemed little lower than a saint. During a violent 
 earthquake, that visited Seville and shook the city to its 
 centre, the great tower of the Giralda alone stood firm as 
 a rock. While the consternation of the devoted city was 
 at its height, the two sisters were seen with the utmost 
 coolness and intrepidity shouldering up and steadying the 
 immense pile. In how short a time they had expanded in 
 size proportionable to the tower we are unable to state. 
 The tower itself is three hundred and sixty feet in height, 
 but to attempt to doubt the miracle in Seville might not 
 be wholly prudent even now. It were, perhaps, safer to 
 question the superior science of the Moorish architect, 
 whose miracle of skill still exhibits its proofs to view. Yet 
 these truly conservative ladies obtain all the credit of the
 
 70 THE PLAZA REAL AND CATHEDRAL, SEVILLE 
 
 work ; and, what is more, have a magnificent chapel in 
 the cathedral, which is appropriated to their sole use. On 
 occasion of the ceremony of the Corpus Christi, they are 
 removed with great pomp, together with the representation 
 of the Giralda, 1 and paraded through the city. It is 
 observed by the artist, with a proper respect for the antique, 
 that the effect of their appearing arrayed in the costume of 
 the present day is truly absurd. The mantilla, and head- 
 dress with comb, do not at all agree with our notions of 
 what the potter's daughters must have been. There is 
 another absurdity, scarcely less glaring to those who are 
 not accustomed to Spanish tastes and superstitions. The 
 eyes of the figures are made to roll about by a person con- 
 cealed underneath pulling a string, so as to make the popu- 
 lace imagine they are in the act of prayer. 
 
 Next to these follows the silver custodia, containing the 
 sacred host. This is of solid silver, of the most exquisite 
 workmanship ; its weight is enormous ; and it is moved by 
 sixteen men, who, to give it the appearance of self-motion, 
 are also concealed. 
 
 The boys in antique Spanish dresses, in front of the 
 Mystery of the Potter's Daughters, dance before the high 
 altar during mass, both morning and evening, while the 
 festival lasts. This is a privilege granted exclusively to 
 this cathedral by his holiness the Pope, and of which the 
 Sevillians are not a little proud. It is said to be in imita- 
 tion of David dancing before the ark, only with this 
 difference the latter played the harp, whereas the former 
 rattle the castanets ; how far becoming in a solemn religious 
 ceremony we pretend not to judge. 
 
 1 The tower of the cathedral called La Giralda was built by the 
 Moors in 1 196. From its summit the muezzin was wont to summon 
 faithful Mahomedans to their prayers. The pinnacle is crowned 
 with a bronze figure of Faith called El Giranditto, which veers in 
 the slightest breeze.
 
 71 
 
 ARAB THIEVES 
 
 The following extracts are from the ' Adventures of Giovanni, 
 Finati,' an Italian and. a soldier of fortune, who, after having served 
 in the army of Mahomet Ali, acted in the capacity of guide to 
 European travellers in Egypt and Arabia. The great advantages 
 which both these situations afforded him are apparent in his work, 
 which, both for the variety of the incidents it details, and the traits 
 of Eastern manners it contains, is one of the most entertaining and 
 useful of the kind that has been recently published. The work 
 has been translated from the original Italian, by William John 
 Bankes, Esq., formerly M.P., whom he was engaged to attend during 
 his tour in the East, and whose name is a guarantee for the authen- 
 ticity of the stories, many of which relate to incidents that fell under 
 that gentleman's notice. ( Written in 1838.) 
 
 WE were embarked upon the Nile in barges, which were 
 suffered to drop down the stream, but we occasionally put 
 to shore, either to shelter ourselves from the violent heat 
 of the sun, or to pass the night ; and two incidents which 
 happened during those pauses, in the short passage from 
 Manfalloot, may be worth mentioning. Whilst moored at 
 Minieh, one night, preparatory to my going to rest, I had 
 retired to some distance from my companions, on the shore, 
 and was there in no favourable posture for defence : it was 
 dark, but I thought that I could distinguish something 
 moving on the ground near me, which I supposed to be a 
 dog ; but a stone which I threw soon discovered my error, 
 for a man started up, and seemed to slink away to a distance, 
 so that I looked no more after him ; but, within a very few 
 seconds, I felt him leap suddenly on me from behind, and
 
 72 ARAB THIEVES 
 
 lay violent hold both of my wrists and of my throat, and 
 so drag me along backwards with him into a pit close at 
 hand, which is filled by the Nile at some seasons, but was 
 then dry. He was a powerful man : and I had no arms 
 whatever upon me for defending myself, so that, keeping 
 me still throttled with one hand, and kneeling on me, he 
 proceeded to rifle me with the other, in search of money, or 
 whatever might be worth his taking ; but, finding nothing, he 
 gave me at last a stab in the right shoulder with a little 
 crooked knife which he wore, and, as he loosed me, struck 
 several blows with a stick to prevent my following. I 
 hastened back to the boat, and there, showing my wound, 
 told my comrades what had just happened, upon which all 
 immediately armed themselves and hastened to the spot ; 
 but, though so little time had been lost, and they searched 
 for hours together in all directions, no signs of the culprit 
 were discoverable. I had, however, the consolation of 
 knowing that he was without booty, and that the cut which 
 he had given me, though it bled much in the first moments, 
 was of little consequence. 
 
 An adventure of this nature had nothing in it that was 
 uncommon at that time the Egyptian peasantry were 
 become quite a nation of thieves, and had carried their art 
 to a high degree of skill and perfection ; in fact, the con- 
 fusion of the times, and the constant struggles between the 
 Pasha's army and the Mamelukes , had so taken away from 
 them all opportunity for industry or honest gains, as well 
 as all security for property, and had so laid waste the 
 villages and the whole territory, that a better course of life 
 could hardly be expected from them ; robberies, therefore, 
 and violences, and even murders, became matters of daily 
 occurrence. We were destined, a little lower down, to 
 witness an act of still greater audacity, and which brought 
 with it far more fatal effects. 
 
 We had put to shore near Benysouef, and, after having
 
 ARAB THIEVES 73 
 
 dined together at noon in one of the great groves of palm- 
 trees, continued sitting there all the afternoon ; and, to pass 
 the time, were amusing ourselves with games of cards and 
 dice. The stakes were trifling at first, but rose as we pro- 
 ceeded ; and, from playing, at the outset, for paras, we 
 advanced at last to gold. The interest, of course, grew 
 deeper in proportion, and before nightfall some had been 
 winners of considerable sums. The losers were now in no 
 temper to leave off, and so, when it grew dark, lanterns 
 were lighted and hung from the trees, that the game might 
 be continued. This drew several Arab thieves about us, 
 who crept on, little by little, close to our circle, unperceived, 
 for we of ourselves constituted a little crowd, being from 
 thirty to forty soldiers, and were all so engrossed by our 
 play that we never noticed the strangers, but took for 
 granted that all who were standing or sitting round were 
 our own attendants or the boat's crew ; and the light, 
 indeed, which our lanterns gave was hardly sufficient to 
 have undeceived us. Whilst each was sitting with his little 
 heap of money before him, intent upon the cards, which 
 were dealing round at the moment, some of these roguish 
 interlopers suddenly knocked the lights out, and others, at 
 the same instant discharging handfuls of dust into our eyes, 
 snatched up as much of the money as they could lay hold 
 of and made off with it. In the first moment of surprise 
 none of us knew what had happened, and nothing remained 
 to be seen but our own party. Without entering upon any 
 explanation, or giving time for any, there began a general 
 scuffle, everyone in the number supposing himself robbed 
 and insulted by his comrades. All had instant recourse to 
 their arms, which were unfortunately at hand, some stab- 
 bing with their dirks, and some cutting with their sabres ; 
 and the confusion and bloodshed proceeded so far that they 
 did not cease till nine of our party lay dead or dying on the 
 ground, and several of the remainder grievously wounded,
 
 74 ARAB THIEVES 
 
 so that I considered myself fortunate in escaping with only 
 a slight sabre-cut upon the arm. We learned afterwards, 
 from some of the bystanders, when our spirits were calmed 
 and more brought to reason, what it was that had really 
 taken place, and that they had in vain tried to stop our 
 hands in time, and to pacify our misdirected fury at the 
 beginning of the fray. We were filled with shame and 
 remorse ; but there was no help for what had happened, so 
 we mourned over our companions and got them buried. 
 
 While some of the Mamelukes were encamped about 
 Minieh, a thief set his mind upon carrying off the horse and 
 wearing- apparel of one of their Beys, and with this intention 
 contrived, in the dead of the night, to creep, unperceived, 
 within the tent, where, as it was winter-time, embers were 
 burning and showed the rich clothes of the Bey lying close 
 at hand. The thief, as he squatted down by the fire, drew 
 them softly to him and put them all on and then, after 
 filling a pipe and lighting it, went deliberately to the tent- 
 door, and, tapping a groom, who was sleeping near, with 
 the pipe-end, made a sign to him for the horse, which stood 
 piquetted in front. It was brought ; he mounted and 
 rode off. On the morrow, when the clothes of the Bey 
 could nowhere be found, none could forma conjecture as to 
 what had become of them, until the groom, on being ques- 
 tioned, mentioned to his fellow-servants that their master 
 was not yet returned from his ride, and told them how he 
 had suddenly called for his horse in the night, which at 
 last seemed to give some clue to what had really happened. 
 Upon this the Bey, anxious to recover his horse, as well as 
 curious to ascertain the particulars, ordered it to be pub- 
 lished abroad that, if the person who had robbed him would, 
 within two days, bring back what he had taken, he should 
 not only be freely pardoned, but should receive also the full 
 value of the animal and of the suit of clothes. 
 
 Relying on the good faith of this promise, and possibly,
 
 ARAB THIEVES 75 
 
 too, not a little vain of his exploit, the Arab presented 
 himself, and brought his booty ; and the Bey also, on his part, 
 punctually kept his word ; but since, besides the loss, there 
 was something in the transaction that placed the Bey in 
 rather a ludicrous light, it went hard with him to let the 
 rogue depart so freely, and he seemed to be considering 
 what he should do ; so that, to gain time, he was continually 
 asking over and over again fresh and more circumstantial 
 accounts of the manner in which the stratagem had been 
 conducted. The other was too crafty not to perceive that 
 no good might be preparing for him, and began to feel 
 anxious to get safe out of the scrape. He showed no im- 
 patience, however, but entered minutely into every detail, 
 accompanying the whole with a great deal of corresponding 
 action, at one time sitting down by the fire, and making 
 believe as though he were slily drawing on the different 
 articles of dress, so as to throw the Bey himself and all who 
 saw and heard him into fits of laughter. When he came at 
 last to what concerned the horse, ' It was,' he said, ' brought 
 to me, and I leaped upon his back ; ' and so, in effect, fling- 
 ing himself again into the saddle, and spurring the flanks 
 sharply with the stirrup-irons, he rode off with all the money 
 that he had received for the animal in his pocket, and had 
 got much too far during the first moments of surprise for 
 any of the bullets to take effect that were fired at him 
 in his flight, and nothing further was ever heard of him or 
 the horse.
 
 76 
 
 THE FAMILY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 LETTER FROM SIR WALTER SCOTT TO SIR ADAM FERGUSON, 
 DESCRIPTIVE OF A PICTURE PAINTED AT AfiBOTSFORD 
 BY DAVID WILKIE, ESQ., R.A. 
 
 MY DEAR ADAM, The picture you mention has something 
 in it of rather a domestic character, as the personages are 
 represented in a sort of masquerade, such being the pleasure 
 of the accomplished painter. Nevertheless, if you, the pro- 
 prietor, incline to have it engraved, I do not see that I am 
 entitled to make any objection. 
 
 But Mr. mentions, besides, a desire to have 
 
 anecdotes of my private and domestic life, or, as he ex- 
 presses himself, a portrait of the author in his night-gown 
 and slippers ; and this from you, who, I dare say, could 
 furnish some anecdotes of our younger days which might 
 now seem ludicrous enough. Even as to my night-gown 
 and slippers, -I believe the time has been when the articles 
 of my wardrobe were as familiar to your memory as Poins's 
 to Prince Henry : but that period has been for some years 
 past, and I cannot think it would be interesting to the 
 public to learn that I had changed my old robe-de-chambre 
 for a handsome douillette when I was last at Paris. 
 
 The truth is, that a man of ordinary sense cannot be 
 supposed delighted with the species of gossip which, in the 
 dearth of other news, recurs to such a quiet individual as 
 myself ; and though, like a well-behaved lion of twenty 
 years' standing, I am not inclined to vex myself about what 
 I cannot help, I will not, in any case in which I can prevent 
 it, be accessory to these follies. There is no man known at
 
 THE FAMILY OF SIR WALTER SCOTT 77 
 
 all in literature who may not have more to tell of his private 
 life than I have : I have surmounted no difficulties either 
 of birth or education, nor have I been favoured by any 
 particular advantages, and my life has been as void of 
 incidents of importance as that of the 'weary" knife- 
 grinder ' 
 
 ' Story ! God bless you ! I have none to tell, Sir.' 
 
 The follies of youth ought long since to have passed 
 away ; and if the prejudices and absurdities of age have 
 come in their place, I will keep them, as Beau Tibbs did 
 his prospect, for the amusement of my domestic friends. A 
 mere enumeration of the persons in the sketch is all which 
 I can possibly permit to be published respecting myself and 
 my family ; and, as must be the lot of humanity when we 
 look back seven or eight years, even what follows cannot 
 be drawn up without some very painful recollections. 
 
 The idea which our inimitable Wilkie adopted was to 
 represent our family group in the garb of south- country 
 peasants, supposed to be concerting a merry-making, for 
 which some of the preparations are seen. The place is the 
 terrace near Kayside, commanding an extensive view to- 
 wards the Eildon Hills. 1. The sitting figure, in the dress 
 of a miller, I believe, represents Sir Walter Scott, author of 
 a few scores of volumes, and proprietor of Abbotsford, in 
 the County of Roxburgh. 2. In front, and presenting, we 
 may suppose, a country wag somewhat addicted to poaching, 
 stands Sir Adam Ferguson, Knight, Keeper of the Regalia 
 of Scotland. 3. In the background is a very handsome old 
 man, upwards of eighty-four years old at the time, painted 
 in his own character of a shepherd. He also belonged to 
 the numerous clan of Scott. He used to claim credit for 
 three things unusual among the southland shepherds : first 
 that he had never been/ow in the course of his life ; secondly, 
 that he never had struck a man in anger ; thirdly, that, 
 though entrusted with the management of large sales of
 
 78 THE FAMILY OF 
 
 stock, he had never lost a penny for his master by a bad 
 debt. He died soon afterwards at Abbotsford. 4, 5, 6. 
 Of the three female figures the elder is the late regretted 
 mother of the family represented. 5. The young person 
 most forward in the group is Miss Sophia Charlotte Scott, 
 now Mrs. John Gibson Lockhart ; and 6, her younger 
 sister, Miss Ann Scott. Both are represented as ewe- 
 milkers, with their leglins, or milk-pails. 7. On the left 
 hand of the shepherd, the young man holding a fowling- 
 piece is the eldest son of Sir Walter, now Captain in the 
 King's Hussars. 8. The boy is the youngest of the family, 
 Charles Scott, now of Brazenose College, Oxford. The 
 two dogs were distinguished favourites of the family : the 
 large one was a stag-hound of the old Highland breed, 
 called ' Maida,' and one of the handsomest dogs that could 
 be found ; he was a present to me from the chief of Glengary, 
 and was highly valued, both on account of his beauty, his 
 fidelity, and the great rarity of the breed. The other is a 
 little Highland terrier, called Ourisk (goblin), of a particular 
 kind, bred in Kintail. It was a present from the Honour- 
 able Mrs. Stuart Mackenzie, and is a valuable specimen of 
 a race which is now also scarce. Maida, like Bran, Lerath, 
 and other dogs of distinction, slumbers ' beneath his stone,' 
 distinguished by an epitaph, which, to the honour of 
 Scottish scholarship be it spoken, has only one false 
 quantity in two lines. 
 
 Maidae marmorea dormis sub imagine Maida 
 Ad jaimam domini sit tibi terra levis. 
 
 If it should suit Mr. 's purpose to adopt the above 
 
 illustrations, he is heartily welcome to them, but I make it 
 my especial bargain that nothing more is said upon them. 
 
 It strikes me, however, that there is a story about old 
 Thomas Scott, the shepherd, which is characteristic, and 
 which I will make your friend welcome to. Tom was, both
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 79 
 
 as a trusted servant and as a rich fellow in his line, a 
 person of considerable importance among his class in the 
 neighbourhood, and used to stickle a good deal to keep his 
 place in public opinion. Now, he suffered, in his own idea 
 at least, from the consequence assumed by a country neigh- 
 bour who, though neither so well reputed for wealth or 
 sagacity as Thomas Scott, had yet an advantage over him, 
 from having seen the late king, and used to take precedence 
 upon all occasions when they chanced to meet. Thomas 
 suffered under this superiority. But after this sketch was 
 finished, and exhibited in London, the newspapers made it 
 known that his present Majesty had condescended to take 
 some notice of it. Delighted with the circumstance, Thomas 
 Scott set out on a most oppressively hot day, to walk five 
 miles to Bowden, where his rival resided. He had no sooner 
 entered the cottage than he called out in his broad forest 
 dialect ' Andro', man, did ye anes sey (see) the king ? ' 
 ' In troth did I, Tarn,' answered Andro' ; ' sit down, and 
 I'll tell ye a' about it. Ye sey, I was at Lonon, in a place 
 they ca' the park, that is no like a hained hog-fence, or like 
 
 the four-nooked parks in this country ' ' Hout awa,' said 
 
 Thomas ; ' I have heard a' that before : I only came ower 
 the knowe now to tell you, that, if you have seen the king, 
 the king has seen mey ' (me). And so he returned with a 
 jocund heart, assuring his friends ' it had done him muckle 
 gude to settle accounts with Andro'.' 
 
 Jocere hcec as the old Laird of Restalrig writes to the 
 Earl of Gowrie ; farewell, my old, tried, and dear friend, of 
 forty long years. Our enjoyments must now be of a cha- 
 racter less vivid than those we have shared together, 
 
 But still at our lot it were vain to repine, 
 Youth cannot return, or the days of Lang Syne. 
 
 Yours affectionately, WALTER SCOTT. 
 Abbotsford : August 2, 1827.
 
 80 
 
 THE LADY'S DREAM 
 
 WHILE my lady sleepeth, 
 
 The dark -blue heaven is bright ; 
 Soft the moonbeam creepeth 
 
 Round her bower all night. 
 Thou gentle, gentle breeze, 
 
 While my lady slumbers, 
 Waft lightly through the trees, 
 
 Echoes of my numbers, 
 The dreaming ear to please. 
 
 Spanish Serenade.
 
 \Vooiibnry-Grainire. 
 
 THE LADY'S DREAM. 
 By THOMAS STOTHARD, R.A.
 
 81 
 
 TO BE READ AT DUSK 
 BY CHARLES DICKENS 
 
 ONE, two, three, four, five. There were five of them. 
 
 Five couriers, sitting on a bench outside the convent on 
 the summit of the Great St. Bernard in Switzerland, looking 
 at the remote heights stained by the setting sun as if a 
 mighty quantity of red wine had been broached upon the 
 mountain-top, and had not yet had time to sink into the 
 snow. 
 
 This is not my simile. It was made for the occasion by 
 the stoutest courier, who was a German. None of the 
 others took any more notice of it than they took of me, 
 sitting on another bench on the other side of the convent 
 door, smoking my cigar, like them, and also like them 
 looking at the reddened snow, and at the lonely shed hard 
 by, where the bodies of belated travellers, dug out of it, 
 slowly wither away, knowing no corruption in that cold 
 region. 
 
 The wine upon the mountain-top soaked in as we looked ; 
 the mountain became white ; the sky, a very dark blue ; 
 the wind rose ; and the air turned piercjng cold. The five 
 couriers buttoned their rough coats. There being no safer 
 man to imitate in all such proceedings than a courier, I 
 buttoned mine. 
 
 The mountain in the sunset had stopped the five couriers 
 in a conversation. It is a sublime sight, likely to stop 
 conversation. The mountain being now out of the sunset 
 
 G
 
 82 TO BE READ 
 
 they resumed. Not that I had heard any part of their 
 previous discourse ; for, indeed, I had not then broken away 
 from the American gentleman, in the travellers' parlour of 
 the convent, who, sitting with his face to the fire, had 
 undertaken to realise to me the whole progress of events 
 which had led to the accumulation by the Honourable 
 Ananias Dodger of one of the largest acquisitions of dollars 
 ever made in our country. 
 
 ' My God ! ' said the Swiss courier, speaking in French 
 which I do not hold (as some authors appear to do) to be 
 such an all-sufficient excuse for a naughty word, that I have 
 only to write it in that language to make it innocent ' if 
 you talk of ghosts ' 
 
 ' But I don't talk of ghosts,' said the German. 
 
 ' Of what then ? ' asked the Swiss. 
 
 ' If I knew of what then,' said the German, ' I should 
 probably know a great deal more.' 
 
 It was a good answer, I thought, and it made me 
 curious. So I moved my position to that corner of my 
 bench which was nearest to them, and, leaning my back 
 against the convent-wall, heard perfectly, without appearing 
 to attend. 
 
 'Thunder and lightning ! ' said the German, warming, 
 ' when a certain man is coming to see you, unexpectedly, 
 and, without his own knowledge, sends some invisible 
 messenger, to put the idea of him in your head all day, what 
 do you call that 1 When you walk along a crowded street 
 at Frankfort, Milan, London, Paris and think that a pass- 
 ing stranger is like your friend Heinrich, and then that 
 another passing stranger is like your friend Heinrich, and 
 so begin to have a strange foreknowledge that presently 
 you'll meet your friend Heinrich which you do, though 
 you believed him at Trieste what do you call that ? ' 
 
 ' It's not uncommon either,' murmured the Swiss and 
 the other three.
 
 AT DUSK 83 
 
 ' Uncommon ! ' said the German. ' It's as common as 
 cherries in the Black Forest. It's as common as maccaroni 
 at Naples. And Naples reminds me ! When the old 
 Marchesa Senzanima shrieks at a card party on the Chiaja 
 as I heard and saw her, for it happened in a Bavarian 
 family of mine, and I was overlooking the service that 
 evening I say, when the old Marchesa starts up at the 
 card-table, white through her rouge, and cries, " My sister 
 in Spain is dead ! I felt her cold touch on my back ! " and 
 when that sister is dead at the moment what do you call 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' Or when the blood of San Gennaro liquefies at the 
 request of the clergy the world knows that it does 
 regularly once a- year, in my native city,' said the Neapolitan 
 courier after a pause, with a comical look ' what do you call 
 that ? ' 
 
 ' That ! ' cried the German. ' Well ! I think I know a 
 name for that.' 
 
 ' Miracle 1 ' said the Neapolitan, with the same sly 
 face. 
 
 The German merely smoked and laughed ; and they all 
 smoked and laughed. 
 
 ' Bah ! ' said the German, presently. ' I speak of things 
 that really do happen. When I want to see the conjurer, 
 I pay to see a professed one, and have my money's worth. 
 Very strange things do happen without ghosts. Ghosts ! 
 Giovanni Baptista, tell your story of the English bride. 
 There's no ghost in that, but something full as strange. 
 Will any man tell me what ? ' 
 
 As there was a silence among them, I glanced around. 
 He whom I took to be Baptista was lighting a fresh cigar. 
 He presently went on to speak. He was a Genoese, as I 
 judged. 
 
 ' The story of the English bride ? ' said he. Basta ! 
 one ought not to call so slight a thing a story. Well, it's, 
 
 G 2
 
 84 TO BE READ 
 
 all one. But it's true. Observe me well, gentlemen, it's 
 true. That which glitters is not always gold ; but what I 
 am going to tell is true.' 
 
 He repeated this more than once. 
 
 Ten years ago I took my credentials to an English 
 gentleman at Long's Hotel, in Bond Street, London, who 
 was about to travel it might be for one year, it might be 
 for two. He approved of them ; likewise of me. He was 
 pleased to make inquiry. The testimony that he received 
 was favourable. He engaged me by the six months, and 
 my entertainment was generous. 
 
 He was young, handsome, very happy. He was ena- 
 moured of a fair young English lady, with a sufficient for- 
 tune, and they were going to be married. It was the 
 wedding trip, in short, that we were going to take. For 
 three months' rest in the hot weather (it was early summer 
 then) he had hired an old palace on the Riviera, at an easy 
 distance from my city, Genoa, on the road to Nice. Did I 
 know that palace ? Yes ; I told him I knew it well. It 
 was an old palace, with great gardens. It was a little 
 bare, and it was a little dark and gloomy, being close sur- 
 rounded by trees ; but it was spacious, ancient, grand, and 
 on the sea-shore. He said it had been so described to him 
 exactly, and he was well pleased that I knew it. For its 
 being a little bare of furniture, all such places were. For 
 its being a little gloomy, he had hired it principally for the 
 gardens, and he and my mistress would pass the summer 
 weather in their shade. 
 
 ' So all goes well, Baptista 1 ' said he. 
 
 ' Indubitably, signore ; very well.' 
 
 We had a travelling chariot for our journey, newly 
 built for us, and in all respects complete. All we had was 
 complete ; we wanted for nothing. The marriage took 
 place. They were happy, /was happy, seeing all so bright,
 
 AT DUSK 85 
 
 being so well situated, going to my own city, teaching my 
 language in the rumble to the maid, la bella Carolina, whose 
 heart was gay with laughter : who was young and rosy. 
 
 The time flew. But I observed listen to this, I pray ! 
 (and here the courier dropped his voice) I observed my 
 mistress sometimes brooding in a manner very strange ; in 
 a frightened manner ; in an unhappy manner ; with a 
 cloudy, uncertain alarm upon her. I think that I began to 
 notice this when I was walking up hills by the carriage-side, 
 and master had gone on in front. At any rate, I remember 
 that it impressed itself upon my mind one evening in the 
 South of France, when she called to me to call master back ; 
 and when he came back, and walked for a long way, talking 
 encouragingly and affectionately to her, with his hand upon 
 the open window, and hers in it. Now and then he laughed 
 in a merry way, as if he were bantering her out of some- 
 thing. By-and-by she laughed, and then all went well again. 
 It was curious. I asked la bella Carolina the pretty 
 little one Was mistress unwell ? No. Out of spirits ? 
 No. Fearful of bad roads, or brigands ? No. And what 
 made it more mysterious was, the pretty little one would 
 not look at me in giving answer, but would look at the 
 view. 
 
 But one day she told me the secret. 
 ' If you must know,' said Carolina, ' I find, from what I 
 have overheard, that mistress is haunted.' 
 ' How haunted ? ' 
 ' By a dream.' 
 ' What dream ? ' 
 
 ' By a dream of a face. For three nights before her 
 marriage she saw a face in a dream always the same face, 
 and only one.' 
 
 ' A terrible face 1 ' 
 
 ' No. The face of a dark, remarkable-looking man, in 
 black, with black hair and a grey moustache & handsome
 
 86 TO BE READ 
 
 man, except for a reserved and secret air. Not a face she 
 ever saw, or at all like a face she ever saw. Doing nothing 
 in the dream but looking at her fixedly, out of darkness.' 
 
 ' Does the dream come back ? ' 
 
 'Never. The recollection of it is all her trouble.' 
 
 ' And why does it trouble her ? ' 
 
 Carolina shook her head. 
 
 ' That's master's question,' said la bella. ' She don't 
 know. She wonders why, herself. But I heard her tell 
 him, only last night, that if she was to find a picture of 
 that face in our Italian house (which she is afraid she will), 
 she did not know how she could ever bear it.' 
 
 Upon my word I was fearful after this (said the Genoese 
 courier) of our coming to the old palazzo, lest some such 
 ill-starred picture should happen to be there. I knew 
 there were many there ; and, as we got nearer and nearer 
 to the place, I wished the whole gallery in the crater of 
 Vesuvius. To mend the matter, it was a stormy, dismal 
 evening when we, at length, approached that part of the 
 Riviera. It thundered ; and the thunder of my city and 
 its environs, rolling among the high hills, is very loud. The 
 lizards ran in and out of the chinks in the broken stone 
 wall of the garden, as if they were frightened ; the frogs 
 bubbled and croaked their loudest ; the sea- wind moaned, 
 and the wet trees dripped ; and the lightning body of San 
 Lorenzo, how it lightened ! 
 
 We all know what an old palazzo in or near Genoa is 
 how time and the sea air have blotted it how the drapery 
 painted on the outer walls has peeled off in great flakes of 
 plaster how the lower windows are darkened with rusty 
 bars of iron how the courtyard is overgrown with grass 
 how the outer buildings are dilapidated how the whole pile 
 seems devoted to ruin. Our palazzo was one of the true 
 kind. It had been shut up close for months. Months ? 
 years ! It had an earthy smell, like a tomb. The scent of
 
 AT DUSK 87 
 
 the orange-trees on the broad back terrace, and of the 
 lemons ripening on the wall, and of some shrubs that grew 
 around a broken fountain, had got into the house somehow, 
 and had never been able to get out again. There it was, 
 in every room an aged smell, grown faint with confinement. 
 It pined in all the cupboards and drawers. In the little 
 rooms of communication between great rooms it was stifling. 
 If you turned a picture to come back to the pictures 
 there it still was, clinging to the wall behind the frame, 
 like a sort of bat. 
 
 The lattice-blinds were close shut all over the house. 
 There were two ugly grey old women in the house, to take 
 care of it ; one of them with a spindle, who stood winding 
 and mumbling in the doorway, and who would as soon have 
 let in the devil as the air. Master, mistress, la bella Caro- 
 lina, and I went all through the palazzo. I went first, 
 though I have named myself last, opening the windows and 
 the lattice-blinds, and shaking down on myself splashes of 
 rain and scraps of mortar, and now and then a dozing mos- 
 quito, or a monstrous, fat, blotchy, Genoese spider. 
 
 When I had let the evening light into a room, master, 
 mistress, and la bella Carolina entered. Then, we looked 
 round at all the pictures, and I went forward again into 
 another room. Mistress secretly had great fear of meeting 
 with the likeness of that face we all had ; but there was 
 no such thing. The Madonna and Bambino, San Francisco, 
 San Sebastiano, Venus, Santa Caterina, Angels, Brigands, 
 Friars, Temples at Sunset, Battles, White Horses, Forests, 
 Apostles, Doges, all my old acquaintance many times 
 repeated ? yes. Dark, handsome man in black, reserved 
 and secret, with black hair and grey moustache, looking 
 fixedly at mistress out of darkness ? no. 
 
 At last we got through all the rooms and all the pictures, 
 and came out into the gardens. They were pretty well 
 kept, being rented by a gardener, and were large and shady.
 
 88 TO BE READ 
 
 In one place there was a rustic theatre, open to the sky ; 
 the stage a green slope : the coulisses, three entrances upon 
 a side, sweet- smelling leafy screens. Mistress moved her 
 bright eyes, even there, as if she looked to see the face come 
 in upon the scene : but all was well. 
 
 ' Now, Clara,' master said, in a low voice, ' you see that 
 it is nothing ? You are happy.' 
 
 Mistress was much encouraged. She soon accustomed 
 herself to that grim palazzo, and would sing, and play the 
 harp, and copy the old pictures, and stroll with master 
 under the green trees and vines, all day. She was beauti- 
 ful. He was happy. He would laugh and say to me, 
 mounting his horse for his morning ride before the heat : 
 
 ' All goes well, Baptista ! ' 
 
 'Yes, signore, thank God ; very well.' 
 
 We kept no company. I took la bella to the Duomo 
 and Annunciata, to the Cafe", to the Opera, to the village 
 Festa, to the Public Garden, to the Day Theatre, to the 
 Marionetti. The pretty little one was charmed with all she 
 saw. She learnt Italian heavens ! miraculously ! Was 
 mistress quite forgetful of that dream ? I asked Carolina 
 sometimes. Nearly, said la bella almost. It was wearing 
 out. 
 
 One day master received a letter, and called me. 
 
 ' Baptista ! ' 
 
 ' Signore/ 
 
 ' A gentleman who is presented to me will dine here to- 
 day. He is called the Signor Dellombra. Let me dine like 
 a prince.' 
 
 It was an odd name. I did not know that name. But 
 there had been many noblemen and gentlemen pursued by 
 Austria on political suspicions lately, and some names had 
 changed. Perhaps this was one. Altro ! Dellombra was 
 as good a name to me as another. 
 
 When the Signor Dellombra came to dinner (said the
 
 AT DUSK 89 
 
 Genoese courier in the low voice into which he had subsided 
 once before), I showed him into the reception-room, the 
 great sala of the old palazzo. Master received him with 
 cordiality, and presented him to mistress. As she rose 
 her face changed, she gave a cry, and fell upon the marble 
 floor. 
 
 Then I turned my head to the Signer Dellombra, and 
 saw that he was dressed in black, and had a reserved and 
 secret air, and was a dark, remarkable-looking man, with 
 black hair and a grey moustache. 
 
 Master raised mistress in his arms, and carried her to 
 her own room, where I sent la bella Carolina straight. La 
 bella told me afterwards that mistress was nearly terrified 
 to death, and that she wandered in her mind about her 
 dream, all night. 
 
 Master was vexed and anxious almost angry, and yet 
 full of solicitude. The Signor Dellombra was a courtly 
 gentleman, and spoke with great respect and sympathy of 
 mistress's being so ill. The African wind had been blowing 
 for some days (they had told him at his hotel of the 
 Maltese Cross), and he knew that it was often hurtful. He 
 hoped the beautiful lady would recover soon. He begged 
 permission to retire, and to renew his visit when he should 
 have the happiness of hearing that she was better. Master 
 would not allow of this, and they dined alone. 
 
 He withdrew early. Next day he called at the gate, on 
 horseback, to inquire for mistress. He did so two or three 
 times in that week. 
 
 What I observed myself, and what la bella Carolina 
 told me, united to explain to me that master had now set 
 his mind on curing mistress of her fanciful terror. He was 
 all kindness, but he was sensible and firm. He reasoned 
 with her, that to encourage such fancies was to invite 
 melancholy, if not madness. That it rested with herself to 
 be herself. That if she once resisted her strange weakness,
 
 90 TO BE READ 
 
 so successfully as to receive the Signor Dellombra as an 
 English lady would receive any other guest, it was for 
 ever conquered. To make an end, the Signore came again, 
 and mistress received him without marked distress (though 
 with constraint and apprehension still), and the evening 
 passed serenely. Master was so delighted with this change, 
 and so anxious to confirm it, that the Signor Dellombra 
 became a constant guest. He was accomplished in pictures, 
 books, and music ; and his society in any grim palazzo 
 would have been welcome. 
 
 I used to notice, many times, that mistress was not 
 quite recovered. She would cast down her eyes and droop 
 her head, before the Signor Dellombra, or would look at him 
 with a terrified and fascinated glance, as if his presence 
 had some evil influence or power upon her. Turning from 
 her to him, I used to see him in the shaded gardens, or the 
 large half-lighted sala, looking, as I might say, ' fixedly 
 upon her out of darkness.' But, truly, I had not for- 
 gotten la bella Carolina's words describing the face in the 
 dream. 
 
 After his second visit I heard master say : 
 
 'Now see, my dear Clara, it's over. Dellombra has 
 come and gone, and your apprehension is broken like 
 glass.' 
 
 ' Will he will he ever come again 1 ' asked mistress. 
 
 'Again? Why, surely, over and over again ! Are you 
 cold ? ' (She shivered.) 
 
 ' No, dear but he terrifies me : are you sure that he 
 need come again 1 ' 
 
 ' The surer for the question, Clara ! ' replied master, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 But he was very hopeful of her complete recovery now, 
 and grew more and more so every day. She was beautiful. 
 He was happy. 
 
 ' All goes well, Baptista ? ' he would say to me again.
 
 AT DUSK 91 
 
 ' Yes, signore, thank God ; very well.' 
 
 We were all (said the Genoese courier, constraining him- 
 self to speak a little louder) we were all at Rome for the 
 Carnival. I had been out all day with a Sicilian, a friend 
 of mine, and a courier, who was there with an English 
 family. As I returned at night to our hotel, I met the 
 little Carolina, who never stirred from home alone, running 
 distractedly along the Corso. 
 
 ' Carolina ! What's the matter ? ' 
 
 ' O Baptista ! Oh, for the Lord's sake ! where is my 
 mistress 1 ' 
 
 ' Mistress, Carolina ? ' 
 
 ' Gone since morning told me, when master went out 
 on his day's journey, not to call her, for she was tired with 
 not resting in the night (having been in pain), and would 
 lie in bed until the evening ; then get up refreshed. She 
 is gone ! she is gone ! Master has come back, broken 
 down the door, and she is gone ! My beautiful, my good, 
 my innocent mistress ! ' 
 
 The pretty little one so cried, and raved, and tore her- 
 self, that I could not have held her but for her swooning 
 on my arm as if she had been shot. Master came up in 
 manner, face, or voice, no more the master that I knew 
 than I was he. He took me (I laid the little one upon her 
 bed in the hotel, and left her with the chamber- women) in 
 a carriage furiously through the darkness, across the deso- 
 late Campagna. When it was day, and we stopped at a 
 miserable posthouse, all the horses had been hired twelve 
 hours ago and sent away in different directions. Mark 
 me ! by the Signor Dellombra, who had passed there in a 
 carriage, with a frightened English lady crouching in one 
 corner. 
 
 I never heard (said the Genoese courier, drawing a long 
 breath) that she was ever traced beyond that spot. All 
 I know is that she vanished into infamous oblivion,
 
 92 TO BE READ 
 
 with the dreaded face beside her that she had seen in her 
 dream. 
 
 ' What do you call that ? ' said the German courier tri- 
 umphantly : ' ghosts ! There are no ghosts there ! "What 
 do you call this that I am going to tell you ? Ghosts ! 
 There are no ghosts here ! ' 
 
 I took an engagement once (pursued the German 
 courier) with an English gentleman, elderly and a bachelor, 
 to travel through my country, my Fatherland. He was a 
 merchant who traded with my country, and knew the lan- 
 guage, but who had never been there since he was a boy 
 as I judge, some sixty years before. 
 
 His name was James, and he had a twin-brother John, 
 also a bachelor. Between these brothers there was a great 
 affection. They were in business together, at Goodman's 
 Fields, but they did not live together. Mr. James dwelt 
 in Poland Street, turning out of Oxford Street, London. 
 Mr. John resided by Epping Forest. 
 
 Mr. James and I were to start for Germany in about a 
 week. The exact day depended on business. Mr. John 
 came to Poland Street (where I was staying in the house), 
 to pass that week with Mr. James. But, he said to his 
 brother on the second day, ' I don't feel very well, James. 
 There's not much the matter with me ; but I think I am 
 a little gouty. I'll go home and put myself under the care 
 of my old housekeeper, who understands my ways. If I 
 get quite better, I'll come back and see you before you go. 
 If I don't feel well enough to resume my visit where I leave 
 it off, why you will come and see me before you go.' Mr. 
 James, of course, said he would, and they shook hands 
 both hands, as they always did and Mr. John ordered 
 out his old-fashioned chariot and rumbled home. 
 
 It was on the second night after that that is to say, 
 the fourth in the week when I was awoke out of my sound
 
 AT DUSK 93 
 
 sleep by Mr. James coming into my bedroom in his flannel 
 gown, with a lighted candle. He sat upon the side of my 
 bed, and, looking at me, said : 
 
 'Wilhelm, I have reason to think I have got some 
 strange illness upon me.' 
 
 I then perceived that there was a very unusual expres- 
 sion in his face. 
 
 ' Wilhelm,' said he, ' I am not afraid or ashamed to tell 
 you what I might be afraid or ashamed to tell another man. 
 You come from a sensible country, where mysterious things 
 are inquired into, and are not settled to have been weighed 
 and measured or to have been unweighable and unmea- 
 surable or in either case to have been completely disposed 
 of, for all time ever so many years ago. I have just now 
 seen the phantom of my brother.' 
 
 I confess (said the German courier) that it gave me a 
 little tingling of the blood to hear it. 
 
 ' I have just now seen,' Mr. James repeated, looking full 
 at me, that I might see how collected he was, ' the phantom 
 of my brother John. I was sitting up in bed, unable to 
 sleep, when it came into my room, in a white dress, and, 
 regarding me earnestly, passed up to the end of the room, 
 glanced at some papers on my writing-desk, turned, and, 
 still looking earnestly at me as it passed the bed, went out 
 at the door. Now, I am not in the least mad, and am not 
 in the least disposed to invest that phantom with any 
 external existence out of myself. I think it is a warn- 
 ing to me that I am ill ; and I think I had better be 
 bled.' 
 
 I got out of bed directly (said the German courier) and 
 began to get on my clothes, begging him not to be alarmed, 
 and telling him that I would go myself to the doctor. I 
 was just ready when we heard a loud knocking and ringing 
 at the street door. My room being an attic at the back, 
 and Mr. James's being the second-floor room in the front,
 
 94 TO BE READ 
 
 we went down to his room, and put up the window, to see 
 what was the matter. 
 
 ' Is that Mr. James ? ' said a man below, falling back to 
 the opposite side of the way, to look up. 
 
 ' It is,' said Mr. James ; ' and you are my brother's man, 
 Robert.' 
 
 ' Yes, sir. I am sorry to say, sir, that Mr. John is ill. 
 He is very bad, sir. It is even feared that he may be 
 lying at the point of death. He wants to see you, sir. I 
 have a chaise here. Pray come to him. Pray lose no 
 time.' 
 
 Mr. James and I looked at one another. ' Wilhelm,' 
 said he, ' this is strange. I wish you to come with me ! ' 
 I helped him to dress, partly there and partly in the chaise ; 
 and no grass grew under the horses' iron shoes between 
 Poland Street and the Forest. 
 
 Now, mind ! (said the German courier). I went with 
 Mr. James into his brother's room, and I saw and heard 
 myself what follows. 
 
 His brother lay upon his bed, at the upper end of a long 
 bed-chamber. His old housekeeper was there, and others 
 were there : I think three others were there, if not four, 
 and they had been with him since early in the afternoon. 
 He was in white, like the figure necessarily so, because he 
 had his night-dress on. He looked like the figure neces- 
 sarily so, because he looked earnestly at his brother when 
 he saw him come into the room. 
 
 But, when his brother reached the bedside, he slowly 
 raised himself in bed, and looking full upon him, said these 
 words : 
 
 ' JAMES, YOU HAVE SEEN ME BEFORE TO-NIGHT AND 
 YOU KNOW IT ! ' 
 
 And so died ! 
 
 I waited, when the German courier ceased, to hear some- 
 thing said of this strange story. The silence was unbroken.
 
 AT DUSK 95 
 
 I looked round, and the five couriers were gone : so noise- 
 lessly that the ghostly mountain might have absorbed them 
 into its eternal snows. By this time I was by no means in 
 a mood to sit alone in that awful scene, with the chill air 
 coming solemnly upon me or, if I may tell the truth, to 
 sit alone anywhere. So I went back into the convent-par- 
 lour, and, finding the American gentleman still disposed to 
 relate the biography of the Honourable Ananias Dodger, 
 heard it all out.
 
 9G 
 
 LAKE NEM1 
 BY LORD BYRON 
 
 Lo, Nemi ! na veiled in the woody hills 
 
 So far, that the uprooting wind which tears 
 
 The oak from its foundation, and which spills 
 
 The ocean o'er its boundary, and bears 
 
 Its foam against the skies, reluctant spares 
 
 The oval mirrors of thy glassy lake ; 
 
 And calm as cherished hate, its surface wears 
 
 A deep cold settled aspect none can shake, 
 
 All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake. 
 
 Lake Nemi, the Lacus Nemorensis of the ancients, and 
 Speculum Diance of the poets, evidently occupies the basin 
 of an extinct volcano. It lies at the distance of seventeen 
 miles south-east of Rome. A temple of Diana, mentioned 
 by Strabo, and celebrated throughout all Italy, once stood 
 on its banks. In the years 1885-6 Sir John Lumley (now 
 Lord Savile, K.C.B.), the British Ambassador at Rome, 
 with the permission of Prince Orsini, the owner of the pro- 
 perty, caused many excavations to be made on the site of 
 this Artemisium. Among broken columns and other archi- 
 tectural details, votive and culinary utensils in bronze and 
 terra cotta, coins and personal ornaments, a portrait bust
 
 
 .) . 
 '&?rus:
 
 LAKE XEMI 97 
 
 was discovered on a draped plinth, at the base of which 
 was traced the name FUNDILIA RUFA. Recently Lord 
 Savile has presented these classical antiquities to the 
 Nottingham Museum. 
 
 It is to this day a place of pilgrimage for visitors in 
 Rome, as it is within a long day's drive. 
 
 The engraving is from one of Turner's most lovely draw- 
 ings. The great master of landscape-painting was evidently 
 inspired by the quiet charm of this lonely lake among the 
 hills, and probably painted it during his second visit to 
 Italy in 1828, when he also painted Lake Avernus, which is 
 not many miles distant. 
 
 Mr. Cousen's engraving is one of the triumphs of his art. 
 He had previously had much experience in rendering 
 Turner's drawings, but in none of his plates has he ever 
 given us more perfect work.
 
 98 
 
 NARRATIVE OF AN ASCENT OF MONT 
 
 BLANC IN AUGUST, 1830 
 BY THE HONOURABLE EDWARD BOOTLE WILBRAHAM 
 
 As I was ascending the Mont An vert on the 1st August, 
 1830, with Captain Pringle and the Comte de Hohenthal, 
 the beauty of the weather and clearness of the sky put the 
 idea of ascending Mont Blanc into my head. I made a few 
 inquiries of our guide (Depland), who said there was every 
 probability of the fine weather continuing, and that it would 
 be an excellent opportunity for doing so. He offered will- 
 ingly to accompany me, but referred me to another guide 
 (Favret), who was ascending the Mont An vert with a party 
 at the time, and who had been at the top of Mont Blanc 
 already two or three times. I remained in a state of indeci- 
 sion till I reached the Mer de Glace, the first sight of which 
 fixed me in my resolution. I spoke to Favret, who tried 
 to dissuade me from the attempt, but said he would ac- 
 company me if I was resolved on making it, and that I 
 should find plenty of guides willing to go with us. 
 
 On our way down we met Joseph Marie Coutet, the 
 most experienced of the guides, who had already been at 
 the top of Mont Blanc eight times. He said very bluntly 
 that I had much better not attempt it, and would not even 
 promise his assistance. 
 
 On my return to Chamouni I went to old Coutet, the 
 ' Chef des Guides,' who undertook to procure me six guides
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLAXG 99 
 
 for my purpose : he also begged permission that his son 
 might accompany us 'en amateur,' which I of course 
 allowed. However, the son never made his appearance. 
 
 I ordered the necessary provisions at my inn, and 
 remained quietly at Chamouni for the rest of the day, in 
 order to be as fresh as possible for the morrow. 
 
 Six guides at length offered themselves, with whom I 
 was about to close, when the landlord of my inn, the Hotel 
 de Londres or d'Angleterre, called me aside, and told me 
 that I should run a great risk with these men, if, indeed, 
 they succeeded at all in bringing me to the summit which 
 I have now no doubt they could not have done as they 
 had, with the exception of one, never ascended, and that 
 one never by the new road. 
 
 After infinite difficulty, however, and long consultations, 
 I engaged six other men Joseph Marie Coutet, who had 
 reached the summit in the last eight expeditions ; Michel 
 Favret, three times up ; Mathieu Desalloud, never up ; 
 Alexis Devouassoud, two or three times up (these four were 
 regular guides) ; Auguste and Pierre Coutet, cousins ; the 
 first a porter, who had been once up ; the latter, never, and 
 who was to accompany us to the Grands Mulcts, and go on 
 with us if it was found necessary to have his assistance. 
 
 I found a great reluctance to accompany me on the 
 part of those who had already made the ascent. Coutet, 
 indeed, warned me that I must not rely on the married men 
 making their appearance, and the event proved he was right, 
 as more than one who had promised faithfully the evening 
 before never appeared on the morrow. I afterwards asked 
 one of them (Julien) if he did not regret not having been 
 with me during so prosperous an ascent ; but he told me 
 that he considered his duty towards his wife and family 
 forbad his ever again risking his life for so uncertain a gain. 
 Indeed, he had reason to think so, for he was swept with 
 Coutet into a crevasse by the slip of snow which destroyed 
 
 H2
 
 100 NARRATIVE OF AN 
 
 three of the guides in the unfortunate expedition of 1820, 
 and was saved by almost a miracle. Out of the forty regu- 
 larly established guides at Chamouni I could only procure 
 four, with Auguste, a candidate for the situation of guide, 
 and Pierre, the lad, as they called him, though a year older 
 than myself. Having agreed on the sums to be paid them, 
 a further agreement was made (as is always done), that in 
 case we were prevented going any farther than the Grand 
 Plateau only two-thirds were to be paid ; and if we only 
 reached the Grands Mulets, half price was all that they 
 expected. 
 
 I amused myself that evening with reading Captain 
 Sherwill's account, but found so many horrors in his recital 
 that I soon closed the book. I gave my purse and some 
 papers to my landlord, with instructions what to do with 
 them in case any accident should occur to us, and went to 
 bed in good time. 
 
 Favret woke me early next morning in high spirits, for 
 the weather was lovely, and after breakfast I set off on a 
 mule at about half-past six for Coutet's cottage, which is 
 at the foot of the mountain. A great number of travellers 
 were setting off at the same time on different excursions, 
 who all most cordially wished me success. Pringle and 
 Hohenthal took the road to Martigny and the Grand 
 St. Bernard. 
 
 When I arrived at Coutet's cottage I put on a broad- 
 brimmed straw hat and blue cloth jacket, and we proceeded 
 on our way. I saw nothing but grave faces around me, 
 and I fear that I must have been the cause of great anxiety 
 to many a friend and relation of those who accompanied 
 me. At the moment, however, I thought little of this, as 
 the only ideas that entered my head were those of success 
 or failure. 
 
 Not a cloud was to be seen, and everything seemed in 
 my favour. At the foot of the mountain I found the rest
 
 ASCENT OF MOXT BLANC 101 
 
 of my guides, with some of their friends, who had volun- 
 teered to carry their burdens during the first part of the 
 ascent. 
 
 I left Coutet's cottage at about a quarter-past seven, 
 and for two hours I ascended on my mule through a pine- 
 forest by a steep and, in some places, difficult path. I 
 then quitted my mule and proceeded on foot for about half 
 an hour, when we reached the edge of the Glacier des 
 Bossons. Here our friends left us, and each of the guides 
 shouldered his knapsack. Our baggage consisted of the 
 provisions, a linen cloth to serve for our tent, a couple of 
 blankets, some straw, and a hatchet, with some fire-wood. 
 We had each a spiked pole about six feet long ; some of the 
 guides had crampons for their feet, but I did not take any, 
 though I afterwards found that they would have assisted 
 me, and should recommend everyone to be provided with 
 them. 
 
 We were three hours crossing the glacier, which we did 
 without much difficulty ; the surface was rough, and we 
 had to descend into many of the crevasses which, however, 
 are never there of any great size in order to pass them. 
 We scrambled about from crag to crag (of ice), and I found 
 myself highly amused at the novelty of the scene. The ice, 
 which at first was almost blackened by the ' moraine,' or 
 rubbish, became purer and more dazzling, and I put on a 
 pair of green spectacles with gauze goggles, which were of the 
 greatest use, as my eyes scarcely suffered at all. The ther- 
 mometer in the shade was at 13 degrees above freezing-point 
 (Reaumur). We were now on the upper part of the Glacier 
 de Tacconai, which employed us about an hour more, when 
 we at last reached the region of deep and perpetual snow. 
 Here we found ourselves close to the Grands Mulcts, our 
 resting-place for the night ; though, owing to some cre- 
 vasses, we were forced to make half-an-hour's de'tour, and 
 finally arrived there at a quarter-past two, having performed
 
 ]02 NARRATIVE OF AN 
 
 our first day's journey in seven hours from Coutet's cottage 
 an unusually short time. 
 
 The Grands Mulcts are a row of pointed rocks, so steep 
 that the snow cannot lie in any depth on them. On the 
 western side is a ledge, which we cleared for our resting- 
 place, of about four feet in breadth, and about a hundred 
 feet above the snow. We placed our poles leaning against 
 the rock, and threw the linen over them as a defence against 
 the night air, though it would not have protected us in the 
 least in any hard weather. There is never any rain at this 
 height. 
 
 We changed our clothes, which were wetted through by 
 the snow, and hung them on the rock to dry. We then 
 sat down to our cold dinner, with our legs hanging over the 
 edge of the rock, in high spirits at our hitherto successful 
 journey. We enlivened ourselves afterwards with smoking 
 and singing. Groups of people were assembled on the 
 opposite point of the Breven to watch our arrival, and we 
 had the satisfaction of knowing that many persons were, at 
 that moment, thinking of, and perhaps envying, us. 
 
 On the Grands Mulets we found the remains of some 
 fire-wood, two empty bottles, and half a bottle of ex- 
 cellent brandy, which had been left by Mr. Auldjo in 1827. 
 Afterwards, on our return to the Grands Mulets, I ordered 
 the guides to leave a bottle or two of wine for my successor, 
 whoever he may be. The sun was exceedingly hot, and I 
 scrambled into the shade of an opposite point of the rock, 
 where I amused myself by taking sketches of the wonderful 
 scenery around me. On the left, as I faced the summit, 
 were the precipitous crags of the Pic du Midi, on the very 
 highest peaks of which I could distinctly see a large 
 chamois bounding from crag to crag in the most extraordin- 
 ary manner, as he was alarmed by the shouts which we raised 
 to greet him. From the steep sides of the Pic du Midi 
 the greatest number of avalanches fall, which they did
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 103 
 
 every minute, as the powerful rays of the afternoon sun 
 had loosened the snow. They alighted chiefly in a valley 
 to our left, where we could distinctly trace them, without 
 a shadow of danger to ourselves. They were the first I had 
 seen or heard, and those only who have witnessed them can 
 imagine the effects they produced on my mind. We saw 
 hundreds of them, though I believe that none were con- 
 sidered as particularly fine ; but during the night we heard 
 some tremendous ones. There is something very awful 
 in the dead silence that follows the fall of one of these 
 monsters. 
 
 On our return from the summit we found that a large 
 avalanche had fallen on the path by which we had passed a 
 few hours before. 
 
 We fired a pistol here repeatedly, but failed in produc- 
 ing any remarkably fine echo, owing, I think, chiefly to the 
 badness of our weapon. 
 
 The view from the Grands Mulets is very beautiful. 
 At our feet lay the Valley of Chamouni in miniature. Above 
 us rose the majestic summit, the object of all our hopes and 
 desires, while to the right the D6me du Gouter looked 
 like an enormous mountain of itself. A small part of the 
 Lake of Geneva is visible. Between us and the Dome du 
 Gouter lay a vast expanse of snow, with nothing to break 
 the uniformity of its surface except the dark blue edges of 
 some of the larger crevasses, which stretched across it as if 
 to forbid our further progress. Except the solitary chamois, 
 no living thing was to be seen, though a few species of birds 
 are sometimes found at this height. 
 
 We now lighted a fire to prepare some lemonade for the 
 next day's march. At the foot of the Grands Mulets is a 
 small spring of water the last supply that we were able to 
 obtain, though this, indeed, could only have proceeded from 
 the melting of the snow. 
 
 It would be useless attempting to describe the beauty
 
 104 NARRATIVE OF AN 
 
 of the scene when evening drew near, and the rays of the 
 setting sun rose by degrees to the very tops of the surround- 
 ing peaks, dyeing them with the most beautiful tints of 
 purple, which faded by degrees into a most delicate pink, 
 till the grey hue of night crept over the whole. The moon 
 rose in great splendour, and I never shall forget the silent 
 impressiveness of the scene, uninterrupted except by the 
 thunder of the avalanches that fell during the night from 
 the sides of the great Pic du Midi into the valley below. I 
 now turned into the tent, if it may so be called, and lay 
 down with a knapsack for my pillow ; and soon afterwards 
 the guides crept in, and we packed together as well as we 
 could, there being only room for two abreast. A small ledge 
 of rough stones which we had raised was our security 
 against rolling over the precipice, and I should have slept 
 most comfortably had we not been so cramped for room 
 that it was impossible for me to move my legs without 
 kicking the head of the unfortunate man beyond me. As it 
 was, the excitement of the undertaking, the anxiety for the 
 result, and the novelty of the scene combined to keep me 
 awake for some time, and a strange variety of ideas crowded 
 on my mind. It frequently occurred to me how little my 
 friends in England could imagine the sort of resting-place 
 I had chosen for myself that night, and I could not quite 
 banish from my mind the possibility that I might never 
 return to them again, though I did not suffer myself to 
 dwell long on such thoughts as these. The night was not 
 particularly cold, and at last I fell asleep. 
 
 At two o'clock the next morning we were aroused, and 
 made hasty preparations for our departure. A few grey 
 clouds were floating about, which the guides considered as 
 rather a good sign. The thermometer was at five above 
 freezing-point (Reaumur). I was dressed as on the pre- 
 ceding day, with the addition of a second shirt, cloth 
 trousers instead of the light ones I had worn, a cotton
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 105 
 
 nightcap under my straw hat, which was tied tightly under 
 my chin, thick fur gloves, and cloth gaiters bound close 
 round my feet with packthread. The temperature was 
 exceedingly variable, as the wind blew along some of the 
 valleys which we entered with great force and coldness, 
 while in others we were sheltered from everything (later 
 in the day) except the powerful rays of the sun, reflected, as 
 they were, on all sides from the surrounding walls of snow. 
 We left most of our baggage at the Mulcts, taking only 
 two knapsacks, which the guides carried by turns, contain- 
 ing some provisions, a telescope, and a thermometer. Our 
 provisions consisted of chickens, bread, wine, some very acid 
 lemonade, vinegar, chocolate, and dried plums, which are 
 of great use in allaying thirst when kept in the mouth, 
 as snow is not able to produce that effect. Water would 
 have congealed at this height. We also took some eau de 
 Cologne to relieve the acute headache which generally 
 attacks persons at a great height, and from which I suffered 
 afterwards considerably during the ascent. 
 
 We scrambled down the Grands Mulcts, and reached 
 the snow, where we fastened ourselves together by twos 
 and threes with ropes round our waists. The four most 
 experienced guides took it by turns to lead, which is the 
 most fatiguing post, as the snow yields more or less to the 
 foot, while we followed in the hardened footsteps of our 
 leader. 
 
 We set off at half-past two in silence, for we knew that 
 all our powers and strength would be required before the 
 day was over. The moment I had put my foot on the snow, 
 I felt that my respiration was, to a certain degree, impeded ; 
 a sensation which afterwards increased most painfully. We 
 walked, however, slowly, with the intention of reserving 
 our strength as much as possible for the latter part of our 
 ascent. The snow was hard and good, and the ' ponts de 
 neige ' over the crevasses were firm. For above an hour,
 
 106 NARRATIVE OF AN 
 
 we were working our way under an impending cliff of snow, 
 that looked every moment as if about to detach itself from 
 the great mass and to fall on our heads. The crevasses 
 here are numerous, but not so large as those above the 
 Grand Plateau, which we reached after four hours' hard 
 work. 
 
 Generally speaking, only a small portion of the crevasses, 
 that are not of great width, is visible ; they are crusted 
 over with frozen snow, and it is here that the utmost ex- 
 perience and skill are required in the guides. In crossing 
 these we always carried our poles at a right angle with the 
 supposed direction of the crevasses, and placed our feet 
 softly on the snow, before we leant forward the weight of 
 our bodies. Some we crossed on our hands and knees, 
 making ourselves as long as we possibly could. Over others 
 we sent a guide, well secured by ropes, who, when he had 
 got over, sat down with his heels and pole well planted in 
 the snow, while we followed very delicately in his footsteps, 
 holding the rope in one hand. I twice sank above my 
 waist, and several times above my knees, in crossing these 
 places during the descent, when the snow was much softer. 
 One of the men (Alexis, I think) sank rather deep once, 
 and fairly screamed with fright, but scrambled out again 
 before we could even tighten the rope which was fastened 
 round his waist. 
 
 The Grand Plateau is a vast amphitheatre of snow, ap- 
 parently surrounded on three sides by almost perpendicular 
 heights, the fourth side being that by which we ascended. 
 Facing us was a line of small bare rocks, called ' Les Rochers 
 Rouges,' near the foot of which lie, deeply entombed in 
 some crevasse, the bodies of the three unfortunate men who 
 perished in 1820. Here we halted for breakfast, but I had 
 most completely lost my appetite, and it was with the 
 greatest difficulty that I forced myself to eat the wing of a 
 chicken and drink a little wine, as I was assured that if I
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 107 
 
 took nothing I should not have strength to carry me to the 
 summit. I already felt very much fatigued. 
 
 Having gladly finished my breakfast, in a few minutes 
 we resumed our route, turning towards the left, and travers- 
 ing the broad plain of the Grand Plateau till we entered a 
 valley, which soon shut it from our view. This road had 
 been discovered by Coutet at the last ascent but one, being 
 a longer but less dangerous route than the old one, which 
 ascended on the right of the 'Rochers Rouges.' 
 
 As we passed near the foot of these rocks, Coutet pointed 
 significantly, and said to me in a low tone, ' Us sont la.' 
 It was a melancholy recollection, and all the guides seemed 
 to feel deeply the loss of their ill-fated comrades ; who will 
 in all probability remain embedded beneath the Grand 
 Plateau till the day of judgment. 
 
 The most painful part of our journey had now com- 
 menced. The heights we had to climb were generally steep, 
 and it was necessary for the leader to cut steps in the snow 
 with a small hatchet made for the purpose. The valleys 
 were filled with enormous crevasses, which generally crossed 
 them from side to side. 
 
 The scenery was of that sublime nature of which a man 
 can have no idea till he has seen it. I never conceived any- 
 thing so splendid as the interior of some of the crevasses 
 we passed. There were enormous grottoes of brilliant ice, 
 with vaults extending further than the eye could trace, 
 containing enormous icicles of every possible shape. Some 
 of the edges of the crevasses were worked, as if by the hand 
 of man, in the most beautiful fretwork, with wonderful 
 regularity. Their flooring, if I may so call it, seemed 
 generally firm. As far as I could judge, the depth of many 
 seemed to be between two and three hundred feet. I would 
 have given anything to have descended into one, but it 
 was utterly out of the question, as we had then no time to 
 spare, and on our return the edges of the crevasses would
 
 108 NARRATIVE OF AX 
 
 have been too soft to bear our weight ; in addition to which, 
 I doubted exceedingly whether the guides would have had 
 strength enough left to pull me up again indeed, we had 
 not a sufficient length of rope for such an attempt. 
 
 The ' ponts de neige ' were generally secure, with the 
 exception of one, which we had some difficulty in passing, 
 and which did not give us very pleasing anticipations for 
 our return, when the little snow that was there would be 
 half melted by the mid-day sun. 
 
 We passed it, however, and in about two hours after 
 leaving the Grand Plateau we arrived at a wall of snow, 
 about two hundred feet in height, which we were obliged to 
 climb, and which was very nearly perpendicular. My dif- 
 ficulty of breathing had greatly increased ; I had violent 
 shooting pains through my head ; and my guides already 
 felt the same symptoms, though in a less degree. 
 
 We ascended in a zigzag direction, resting every ten 
 minutes for two or three, and turning our faces downwards 
 to breathe more freely, whilst the leader was cutting steps 
 in advance. In these short intervals I frequently fell asleep, 
 while the steepness of the place was so great that I was 
 forced to lean my head against the snow in order to preserve 
 my balance. When I moved, I did so almost mechanically. 
 Both the asthmatic and headachy feelings were much 
 relieved when I remained quiet, but instantly recommenced 
 when in action again. Often did I wish that Mont Blanc 
 had never existed ; but the thought of abandoning my 
 attempt never occurred to me, and I kept my wishes to 
 myself. My guides frequently offered to assist me by pull- 
 ing at the rope round my waist, but I was anxious to do 
 without help if possible ; and, thanks to the strength of 
 my constitution, I was enabled to succeed. I considered 
 myself most fortunate in escaping, the spitting of blood, 
 giddiness, and sickness which persons of weaker lungs often 
 experience when at this height.
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 109 
 
 In about an hour and a half we reached the ' Petits 
 Mulets,' almost the last points of bare rook which are visible 
 on the mountain, where we rested for five or six minutes. 
 Another hour and a half of steep ascent brought us at last 
 to the summit, on which I stepped without the slightest 
 emotion of pleasure. My ideas were confused from my 
 thorough exhaustion, and after stupidly gazing on the vast 
 scene around me, I sat down on a knapsack and fell asleep 
 with my head on my knees. 
 
 After nearly ten minutes they woke me, and I found 
 myself much refreshed. At the same time I woke to a 
 more perfect enjoyment of my new situation ; that extreme 
 exhaustion which had overpowered my mind as well as my 
 body had passed away, and I was myself again. It is 
 perfectly useless for me to attempt to describe what I saw : 
 I can only say that it amply repaid me for all the dangers 
 and fatigue I had undergone. France, Italy, Savoy, and 
 Switzerland lay at my feet. The Lake of Geneva and Pays 
 de Vaud seemed quite close to me. Mont Rosa, Milan, and 
 the neighbourhood of Genoa, the town itself being hidden 
 by the heights beyond which it is built. On the north, far 
 beyond the Jura, I saw what may have been Dijon, as it 
 has been before seen, and the weather was perfectly clear. 
 The Valley of Chamouni was under our feet, with the Arve 
 running through it like a thread of silver, and the innumer- 
 able peaks of the Alps, all looking like pigmies compared 
 with the giant on which I was standing. 
 
 My excessive fatigue caused me to forget two or three 
 things I wished to have done, such as looking for the stars 
 with a telescope, some of which, I believe, may be seen : I 
 could not certainly distinguish them with the naked eye. 
 I forgot, too, to fire a pistol, to hear (if I may say so) it make 
 no noise. I did fire it high up for an echo, and it produced 
 a much weaker report. The sky was an extraordinarily 
 dark blue, almost black.
 
 110 NARRATIVE OF AN 
 
 I did not feel that lightness in treading that is often ex- 
 perienced at that height. I lost all appetite and thirst in 
 ascending, but the latter was very great afterwards. The 
 thermometer was at zero. 
 
 The summit appeared to me to be about 120 feet long 
 by fifty broad, of an oval shape, with the corner towards the 
 north-west considerably raised. The shape of the surface, 
 consisting entirely of snow, and subject to great vicissitudes 
 of weather, must be perpetually liable to change. 
 
 I may here remark that the upper layers of the snow 
 on the mountain are unlike those which fall on the lower 
 regions, being composed of separate globules, unconnected 
 with each other, except by the cohesion of frost. 
 
 We remained on the summit only twenty-five minutes 
 the longest halt during the day as we were anxious to 
 avoid passing a second night on the mountain. 
 
 My feelings were very different when we began to de 
 scend from the perfect apathy and indifference with which 
 I had arrived at the top. The triumph of having succeeded 
 in our attempt, the excitement of the guides, as well as of 
 myself, and the ease in descending compared with the fatigue 
 we had previously felt raised our spirits to the highest pitch, 
 and we set off with shouts of joy. 
 
 At a very short distance from the summit a butterfly 
 flew past us : we had neither the power nor the inclination 
 to catch it. 1 
 
 In ascending the snow was hard and good, but by mid- 
 day the sun had softened it, and in most places we trod 
 knee-deep, which was fatiguing and dangerous, as the 
 ' ponts de neige ' over the crevasses were insecure. 
 
 The glissades were very amusing. Down an angle of 
 45 degrees, for instance, we slid on our heels, with the pole 
 
 1 Near the top of the Faido, a high mountain by the Pass of 
 St. Gothard, I found part of a swarm of bees lying on the snow, 
 most of them frozen, but some still alive.
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 111 
 
 behind us in the snow, like a third leg. This requires great 
 practice, and at first I never went more than a few yards 
 without falling, which is an excellent joke in soft snow. 
 At the steeper places we fairly sat down, and, with our poles 
 in the snow behind to guide us, lifted up our heels, and 
 away we went like lightning. We had some excellent 
 races in this manner, and I enjoyed them much. Small 
 crevasses were passed in this way without danger, as the 
 rapidity with which we went prevented our sinking. 
 
 The excitement of our enterprise was so great that I 
 can affirm, without any idea of boasting, that I did not 
 during the whole time feel the least degree of fear or even 
 nervousness, though I have frequently since shuddered at 
 the remembrance of some of the places we passed. Once, 
 in the beginning, as I looked down on a steep place 
 from a narrow path, I fancied that I saw the rocks and 
 valley below slowly moving along, but I immediately stood 
 still and looked steadily at them, and never felt giddy 
 afterwards. 
 
 Our greatest difficulties at this period of the journey 
 were at that exceedingly steep place I noticed in the ascent, 
 which required the greatest caution, and took us more time 
 in descending than we had been in ascending it. No one, 
 however, made even a false step here. The crevasse which 
 I have before particularly alluded to was crossed after 
 many precautions and without accident. In all probability 
 another week would have melted away the little ' pont ' 
 that remained and left the valley perfectly impassable. 
 Had we been unable to cross this on our return, we must 
 either have remained on the mountain and, it is needless to 
 add, have perished, or retraced our steps to near the sum- 
 mit, and descended by the dangerous pass of the ' Rochers 
 Rouges.' I do not think, however, that we should have had 
 strength to re-ascend, especially as the snow was so soft, and 
 we should have been soon overtaken by night and (as the
 
 112 NARRATIVE OF AN 
 
 next day proved) a storm. I was not aware of the extent 
 of our danger till we had passed it, when I need not say 
 how grateful we all felt for our safe deliverance. The cool- 
 ness and intrepidity of my guides were beyond all praise. In 
 descending, I did not feel the slightest difficulty in breath- 
 ing, and the pains in my head gradually decreased. In 
 some places the wind was high, and the light snow drifted 
 along in sheets when disturbed by our footsteps. 
 
 On our return to the Grands Mulcts, in three hours and 
 a half, we packed up the baggage we had left there, which, 
 like -ffisop's load, had been considerably lightened, and ar- 
 rived on the glacier, where we halted a few minutes to rest. 
 It was exceedingly hot, and I never suffered so much from 
 thirst as then, which nothing would quench, and which I 
 did not get rid of till I put myself into a hot bath on my 
 return to Chamouni. 
 
 At the foot of the mountain I found a mule waiting for 
 me ; and we returned to Chamouni about half-past eight, 
 having been half the time descending that was occupied by 
 the ascent. Though at so late an hour, I found crowds of 
 people waiting to receive me in triumph, as, from Chamouni, 
 they could with telescopes distinctly trace our progress. I 
 did not feel much tired, and was too feverish to sleep well, 
 but the next morning I was exceedingly stiff, and not sorry 
 to remain quiet during most of the day. My face was much 
 swelled and the skin turned black and wrinkled, but after 
 a few days peeled off. My eyes scarcely suffered, and that 
 only for a day or two. Had I not worn green spectacles, I 
 firmly believe I should have been blinded : for nothing can 
 give an idea of the dazzling brilliancy of the snow above, 
 as I found when I now and then for a moment took them 
 off. Two of my guides who had only worn green veils over 
 their faces could scarcely see for a day or two after their 
 descent. 
 
 It was amusing to find what a lion I became at Chamouni
 
 ASCENT OF MONT BLANC 113 
 
 during the two days I remained there afterwards. The 
 place was crowded with visitors, and some asked me the 
 most absurd questions imaginable. 
 
 I cannot pass over in silence the exceedingly liberal 
 conduct of my host, who, though I was a perfect stranger 
 to him, offered to lend me all the money requisite to pay my 
 guides and other expenses, without even asking for any 
 security, as, having had no previous intention of ascending 
 Mont Blanc, I had not brought enough with me for that pur- 
 pose. I, however, preferred taking one of the guides with me 
 on my return to Geneva. The reasonable charges and great 
 attentions of my host induce me to recommend him most 
 strongly to those who visit Chamouni. 
 
 With regard to this expedition, I cannot do better than 
 repeat Coutet's own words when I first applied to him for 
 his assistance. ' If you succeed, you will think nothing of 
 the fatigue and expense ; but if you are compelled by 
 weather or any other circumstance to abandon it, you will 
 be exceedingly sorry that the idea ever entered your head.' 
 
 In conclusion : I should most earnestly advise no one to 
 attempt the ascent of Mont Blanc ; for though I found 
 myself amply repaid by my success for all my fatigue and 
 troubles, the chances are very great indeed against anyone 
 having again a journey so prosperous in weather and every 
 other respect as mine was. But to anyone who does not 
 care for a rough lodging, I strongly recommend to go to the 
 Grands Mulcts, which he may easily do with two or three 
 guides at a trifling expense, pass the night there, and return 
 the following day. I should hardly think it possible to re- 
 turn from the Grands Mulcts the same day, but, at all 
 events, the night is the most interesting time of the whole. 
 He will there see enough to give him an idea, though an 
 imperfect one, of the awful scenery which is only to be 
 found above. He will have a splendid view during daylight, 
 and (if he times his visit well) a glorious sunset and moon- 
 
 i
 
 114 ASCENT OF MONT BLAXC 
 
 light afterwards, and plenty of avalanches during the whole 
 of his stay here. He will experience little danger or fatigue, 
 and, moreover, he will have the distinction of being the first 
 man who ever willingly halted at the Grands Mulets or 
 half-way house without the intention of proceeding farther.
 
 115 
 
 HAPPY ANGLERS 
 BY W. M. THACKERAY 
 
 As on this pictured page I look, 
 This pretty tale of line and hook, 
 As though it were a novel-book 
 
 Amuses and engages : 
 I know them both, the boy and girl, 
 She is the daughter of the Earl, 
 The lad (that has his hair in curl), 
 
 My lord the County's page is. 
 
 A pleasant place for such a pair ! 
 The fields lie basking in the glare ; 
 No breath of wind the heavy air 
 
 Of lazy summer quickens. 
 Hard by you see the castle tall, 
 The village nestles round the wall ; 
 As round about the hen, its small 
 
 Young progeny of chickens. 
 
 It is too hot to pace the keep ; 
 To climb the turret is too steep ; 
 My lord the Earl is dozing deep 
 
 His noonday dinner over ; 
 The postern-warder is asleep ; 
 (Perhaps they've bribed him not to peep) 
 And so from out the gate they creep ; 
 
 And cross the fields of clover.
 
 116 HAPPY ANGLERS 
 
 Their lines into the brook they launch ; 
 He lays his cloak upon a branch, 
 To guarantee his Lady Blanche 
 
 's delicate complexion : 
 He takes his rapier from his haunch, 
 That beardless doughty champion staunch- 
 He'd drill it through the rival's paunch, 
 
 That questioned his affection ! 
 
 O heedless pair of sportsmen slack ! 
 You never mark though trout or jack 
 Or little foolish tickleback 
 
 Your baited snares may capture. 
 What care has she for line and hook ? 
 She turns her back upon the brook, 
 Upon her lover's eyes to look 
 
 In sentimental rapture. 
 
 O loving pair ! as thus I gaze 
 Upon the girl who smiles always, 
 The little hand that ever plays 
 
 Upon the lover's shoulder ; 
 In looking at your pretty shapes, 
 A sort of envious wish escapes, 
 (Such as the Fox had for the Grapes) 
 
 The Poet your beholder. 
 
 To be brave, handsome, twenty-two ; 
 With nothing else on earth to do, 
 But all day long to bill and coo ; 
 
 It were a pleasant calling. 
 And had I such a partner sweet ; 
 A tender heart for mine to beat, 
 A gentle hand my clasp to meet ; 
 I'd let the world flow at my feet, 
 
 And never heed its brawling.
 
 117 
 
 AN ADVENTURE IN SPAIN 
 BY J. B. 
 
 ON the 9th of July, 1839, as my travelling companion, Don 
 Francisco Fontela, and I were about to enter the parador 
 or Venta of Huerta, two leagues on this side of Ariza, we 
 met the Saragossa diligence with only two passengers, the 
 other five having remained behind at Calatayud to recover 
 from the fright caused them by a party of robbers. The 
 carriage bore visible marks of violence, as it was pierced 
 by several bullets. We found upon inquiry that the dili- 
 gence, after being fired upon by four armed men, had been 
 stopped between El Fresno and the above-mentioned town 
 of Calatayud, and the passengers stripped. This intelli- 
 gence was by no means agreeable to me ; but, as I calcu- 
 lated upon entering Calatayud by daylight, where I might 
 take an escort to Almunia, and thence reach Saragossa 
 without danger, I was not much alarmed. As it may be 
 supposed, this event formed for some time the chief topic of 
 our conversation. We were discoursing upon the chances 
 we had to escape the danger which threatened us, when } 
 just as we were entering the town of Ariza, at about three 
 in the afternoon, we saw from the top of a gentle hill which 
 the carriage was then ascending, four men on horseback 
 galloping towards us, sword in hand. We immediately 
 asked the mayoral who they were, and he told us that they 
 were Carlists. At first we did not believe him, and thought 
 he was jesting ; but we were soon after convinced of the
 
 118 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 correctness of his information by the appearance of four 
 grim-looking fellows, wearing the boina, or Carlist cap, who 
 surrounded our carriage and bid us to stop, flourishing 
 their swords and vociferating all the time ' Viva Carlos V.,' 
 in which cry, however, we did not fail to join. Upon their 
 inquiring whether we had any arms, and what had become 
 of the escopitero, or coach-guard, the conductor answered 
 that the carriage contained no arms whatever, and that it 
 had no escopitero. They then ordered the mayoral to drive 
 into the village, which he did through such crooked and 
 narrow streets that the coach could hardly get along ; the 
 Carlists being all the time engaged in plundering its con- 
 tents. Once out of the town, we were bid to halt ; and 
 the carriage consequently stopped in a field at the foot of 
 the mountains and upon the banks of the lalon, a small 
 rivulet. The chief of the band then came up, and, bidding 
 us get out of the carriage, asked me who I was, what pro- 
 fession I followed, and what object took me to Saragossa. 
 I told him what my name was, and that I was an attache 
 to the British legation in Madrid, as my passport would 
 show. My travelling companion was next interrogated ; 
 but, before he could return any answer, I came forward and 
 said that he was my Spanish servant. Don Francisco was 
 an intendente going to Saragossa, and I was afraid that the 
 knowledge of his rank and station might aggravate con- 
 siderably our situation. The interrogatory being at an end, 
 the Carlist chief ordered us, in a more polite manner than 
 before, to take out all our luggage, as he was going to set 
 fire to the carriage, in compliance with the orders he had 
 received from his superior commander. Having done so, 
 we were directed to sit down at some distance under cover 
 of a wall, whilst the Carlists set fire to the carriage, taking 
 care of the bags containing correspondence with Saragossa, 
 France, &c. The carriage was soon a heap of ashes. 
 Profiting, however, by the short interval which this strange
 
 IN SPAIN 119 
 
 auto de fe afforded us, and observing, moreover, that our 
 detainers did not seem to wish to carry things to the last 
 extremity with us, I went up to the chief and asked him 
 to let me go, as he could have no object whatever in detain- 
 ing me, I being an Englishman by birth, and an attache to 
 the British legation. His answer was that he had orders 
 from his superior, General Balmaseda, to conduct before 
 him all persons of distinction that should happen to fall 
 into his hands ; and that it was for him to decide whether 
 I should be allowed to continue my journey or not. I was 
 about to urge my claim with greater authority, when the 
 fear of making matters worse, and of compromising the 
 safety of my travelling companion, who had been intrusted 
 to my care, came suddenly to my mind, and I accordingly 
 decided to wait patiently the result. 
 
 Meanwhile, another party of Carlists were lying in 
 ambush near the town of Ariza, ready to pounce upon the 
 diligence coming from Saragossa to Madrid, which was 
 expected to pass by at that hour, but, fortunately for the 
 passengers, the post-master of Ariza, who had the good luck 
 to escape detention, rode up to them and warned them of 
 the threatening danger. The diligence, therefore, stopped 
 on the road, and the Carlists were disappointed of their 
 prey. A galera, or waggon, belonging to a certain carrier 
 of Saragossa, named Garcia, happening to pass at this time 
 through Ariza, was stopped by the same band which 
 attacked us. This vehicle contained, if I recollect right, 
 eight passengers going to France. These were, a lieutenant 
 of the foreign legion in the service of Spain, a fencing- 
 master, and a baker, all Frenchmen ; a copper-smith, a 
 cooper, a barber from Saragossa, and lastly, a lieutenant of 
 artillery of the milicia national, who was going to Teruel, 
 where he held a public situation ; besides two women, with 
 whom the Carlists did not in the least interfere. All the 
 other passengers, with the exception of the French lieu-
 
 120 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 tenant, who, after being stripped of all his money and 
 valuables, contrived to escape, were marched to the spot 
 where my friend and I were sitting, and their trunks and 
 other luggage came to increase the booty made upon a pre- 
 vious occasion. Orders were likewise given to fire the 
 waggon ; but, it being quite impossible that its huge mass 
 should pass through the narrow streets of the town, and, 
 moreover, as there was a danger that the flames might com- 
 municate to the adjoining houses, the order was counter- 
 manded, and the carrier suffered to redeem his waggon, 
 mules, and cargo, not belonging to the passengers, for the 
 comparatively small sum of three thousand reals, or about 
 thirty pounds English money. The waggon was chiefly 
 loaded with wool, which the carrier was also allowed to 
 keep upon his declaring that it belonged to him. 
 
 Some hours had passed in questioning the passengers 
 who had come by the waggon, and separating their luggage 
 from what constituted the load of the waggon, when, at 
 about six o'clock in the afternoon, we were told to prepare 
 to march. We were all provided with donkeys to ride, and 
 I must, in justice, say that the captain gave me the best 
 beast and told the driver to take every care of me. My 
 friend rode the same horse which had belonged to the pos- 
 tillion of the mail, and, after great trouble and considerable 
 loss of time, we started on our expedition. Our order of 
 march was as follows my travelling companion and I were 
 in front of the column ; next came the mayoral and zagal of 
 the mail, and the mules belonging thereto ; the passengers 
 of the galera followed ; lastly, the line of march was closed 
 by several mules or donkeys carrying the luggage or goods 
 captured upon the two occasions. This long convoy was 
 escorted by two lancers only : one of them, named Garcia, 
 was a sergeant of whom I shall have occasion to speak 
 hereafter. The other was a coarse and brutal fellow, the 
 servant of an officer belonging to another troop.
 
 IN SPAIN 121 
 
 When I saw that we were so slightly guarded, and that, 
 besides ourselves, we had in our favour the drivers of the 
 mules, who had been reluctantly dragged away from home 
 on this service, I began to consider how shameful it was 
 that so many men should be led to captivity, and perhaps 
 to death, by only two men on horseback, and how easy it 
 would be to regain our liberty. I communicated my project 
 to some of my fellow-sufferers, but nowhere did I find the 
 aid which I expected. The fencing-master only said to me 
 in French, ' II n'y a pas d'union entre nous ; sans cela je 
 suis sur de mon homme. 1 Time passed in this and other 
 conversation, and, at nine in the afternoon, we arrived at 
 the corral, or breeding-yard, of cobra lafuente, three leagues 
 from Ariza, where Sergeant Garcia bade us enter one by 
 one, and shut us in, placing one of the drivers at the door, 
 in order that none should escape. The frequent conversa- 
 tions in French which he had overheard without being able 
 to understand, the discontent which he read in our counte- 
 nances ; and last, not least, the gesticulations and threaten- 
 ing mien of the French fencing -master, raised his suspicions, 
 and he thought proper to confine us in a place of safety. I 
 spread my cloak on the ground and lay down on it, much 
 less with an intention to sleep, for I was certain not to 
 close my eyelids, than to rest my worn-out limbs ; I also 
 waited anxiously for the arrival of Captain Arranz, who 
 was in command of this force and who was expected every 
 moment, as I wished to speak to him about my liberation. 
 He came at last, at about twelve o'clock, and I prepared to 
 express my sentiments to him in the best manner I could. 
 But, before I ventured to do so, I inquired from one of the 
 soldiers what were the real character and intentions of that 
 individual, and what the object of the incursion he was 
 then making. I was told that he was a very good sort of 
 
 1 We arc not united, otherwise I should be sure of my man.
 
 122 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 fellow, and that he was assisted in the execution of his 
 orders by a certain Carlist clergyman, who exercised great 
 influence over him. Having asked to see the curate, he 
 was pointed out to me, and I immediately went up to him 
 with a view of gaining him to my cause. Strange to say, 
 no sooner had I addressed him than he recognised me by the 
 sound of my voice, it being then pitch dark, as we were 
 not allowed to have a light in the place, and addressed me 
 by name. I then found out that he was no other than the 
 curate of Alhama, whom I had known upon a former occa- 
 sion. He had gone over to the Carlists, and, profiting now 
 by the incursion made into Aragon, had accompanied them 
 with a view of settling some family affairs and getting a 
 bill cashed at Ariza. I immediately explained my case to 
 him, and begged that he should use his influence with the 
 captain to obtain my liberation and that of my servant. 
 He did so, but to no effect ; for shortly after the captain 
 himself came up to me, and said he was very sorry not to 
 be able to accede to my wishes. Had he been present at the 
 time of my being taken, it might have been accomplished ; 
 but now it was impossible, for, were he to let me go, some 
 of his soldiers would undoubtedly denounce his act to 
 Balmaseda, who would have him cashiered or perhaps put 
 to death for daring to disobey his orders. He, however, 
 promised that I should be treated with every possible 
 regard and attention ; that I would have the best horse to 
 ride and every comfort that could be procured on the road. 
 Seeing that all my arguments were in vain, and that I 
 could not prevail upon the captain to set me at liberty, I 
 resigned myself to my fate, and decided to wait the course 
 of events. Captain de Joaquin Arranz, better known by 
 the surname of Joaquinillo, which his own men gave him, 
 was a middle-aged, common-looking man, who, having 
 embraced the party of Don Carlos, and joined the rebels in 
 Aragon, had risen from the ranks, and obtained promotion by
 
 IN SPAIN 123 
 
 his fidelity and his courage. He was a good-natured and 
 kind-hearted man. 
 
 We started at two in the morning, with a most piercing 
 cold. I rode by the side of the curate, all the time keeping 
 my eye upon the mule that carried my luggage and that of 
 my friend. In this way we trudged along for some time, 
 until the cold of the morning began to increase in such a 
 manner that I do not recollect having ever felt anything 
 like it. I had on a pair of summer trousers, so that, 
 although I wrapped myself up in my cloak as well as I 
 could, I was literally frozen. This, coupled with mental 
 anxiety, and the reflection of the impression which the 
 news of my capture might make on my family and friends 
 at Madrid, brought on an illness from which I suffered 
 greatly. 
 
 At about five o'clock P.M. we passed by the town of 
 * * * * , which is very agreeably situated in the middle of 
 a well-cultivated plain. Here the curate left us in search 
 of some men whom he had sent forward to cash a bill ; and 
 we continued our march till seven, when we were ordered 
 to halt. This order was a godsend for me, for I was so 
 tired that I could hardly move. I wrapped myself up in 
 my cloak, and threw myself on the ground. After one 
 hour's sleep, which refreshed me considerably, I awoke and 
 found that the curate was not yet returned from his expedi- 
 tion ; and I began to fear that I had lost a friend, and 
 that, perhaps, he would never come back. At nine o'clock 
 we resumed our march, until we arrived at Milmarcos, 
 seven hours distant from the breeding-yard where we had 
 passed the night. Here I had the consolation to see again 
 the curate, who joined us on the road. He told us that he 
 had lost his way, and had been obliged to take a guide. 
 
 Milmarcos is the last town of Castile on the frontier of 
 Aragon. Upon our arrival there, my friend the curate took 
 me with him to the house of the curate of the village,
 
 124 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 where breakfast was served. I could hardly swallow a cup 
 of chocolate which was offered to me ; but my protector 
 remained in the house partaking of a tolerably good break- 
 fast in company with the chief of our escort and the rest 
 of the prisoners. Finding myself alone and unobserved, I 
 took the opportunity of tearing the posting-licence which I 
 had with me, as it contained a note stating that I was the 
 bearer of despatches from the English legation at Madrid. 
 I was afraid that, were this circumstance to be found out, 
 I might be asked to give them up. I tore, likewise, all the 
 letters of introduction for Calatayud and Saragossa, of 
 which I was the bearer, and wherein the object of my 
 journey to the latter place was mentioned. 
 
 At Milmarcos v the chief of our escort released the 
 bagajeros (mule-drivers) and their beasts, and took fresh 
 ones. He also set at liberty the conductor and postillion 
 of the mail, moved, no doubt, by a laudable sentiment of 
 generosity. He sold a good portion of the pork taken in 
 the waggon, at about eight shillings per arroba, or twenty- 
 five pounds weight, and divided the produce among his own 
 men, each having for his share twenty-six reals. 
 
 The party consisted of seven men, one sergeant, and the 
 chief, who had the rank of captain. They were all mounted, 
 and armed with lances. Each of them had a nickname, 
 or war-cry, by which he was known, the simple enumeration 
 of which will convey a sufficient idea of what sort of people 
 they were. Matauras, or priest-killer, was the name of 
 one, and it appears he had come by that appellation from 
 his having once assassinated a venerable priest at Siguenza. 
 luanon, Fisonomia, were the names of two of the others ; 
 the latter was a ruffian, who might have cut a gallant figure 
 even among Palillo's band of assassins. Burguillos was 
 the nickname of a fourth, who boasted of having killed 
 with his own hand no less than twenty- two individuals, 
 without the least provocation on their part ; there was
 
 IN SPAIN 125 
 
 another one named Cebada, or barley. Garcia was the name 
 of the sergeant, and I shall only say this about him, that a 
 few days before our capture he had received five hundred 
 lashes by order of Balmaseda. 
 
 With such an agreeable company we set out for the 
 third time, and marched in the direction of El Molino de 
 la Decheso. As we trudged along the road, seeing myself 
 alone with the curate and one of the drivers, a trusty man 
 named Pascual Mafiaco, I made a last effort to obtain my 
 liberty, through the intercession of the former. I began 
 by making him observe that the chief of the party had 
 allowed the conductor and postillion of the mail to escape 
 while he kept me still in his power, exposing me to the 
 great injury which both my health and my affairs would 
 sustain by keeping me so long, and exposing me to so 
 many hardships and privations. I protested that I had 
 nothing to fear from Balmaseda, were I to be conducted 
 to his presence ; and that he would, no doubt, release me 
 immediately. These arguments seemed to have some 
 weight upon the curate. He kindly promised me to renew 
 his application at the first halting, and I bound myself, if I 
 obtained my liberty, to bestow upon the soldiers four gold 
 doubloons which I had by me, and, besides, to pay hand- 
 somely the driver who would undertake to accompany me 
 to Saragossa. In order, however, to make things still more 
 satisfactory, and in order to give the curate a proof of my 
 gratitude, I took my gold watch, and, presenting it to him, 
 begged him to keep it in token of remembrance. The 
 curate refused at first ; but upon my insisting, he accepted 
 my present and thanked me for it. This gave me courage, 
 and, not doubting that I might already consider myself as 
 free, I went up in great spirit and told Don Francisco to 
 keep himself and horse in readiness, as I had no doubt that 
 we should be set free almost immediately. 
 
 At about noon we arrived at HI Molino (the mill), where
 
 126 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 we halted. Sentries were placed all round it to prevent 
 our escape, but we were otherwise allowed the full range 
 of the building. Don Francisco and I stretched ourselves 
 on the floor, as we were exceedingly tired. We were soon 
 roused by the sound of a drum, and, looking out, we saw a 
 party of men advancing upon the mill. These proved to 
 be a party of infantry, about forty in number, with some 
 cavalry officers, all belonging to the Carlist division com- 
 manded by a partizan chief named Miguel. The chiefs of 
 both parties shook hands together, and joined in one of 
 the rooms, whilst the soldiers went about the place. Don 
 Francisco and I were admitted into their circle, and 
 remained with them until the dinner-hour. The newspapers 
 found in the mail-bags were produced, and the curate 
 began to read them to the company, of whom few, if any, 
 were able to read. Strange enough, the papers happened 
 to contain some letters from Cabrera and Arias Tejiero to 
 Don Carlos, which, having been intercepted, were published 
 by order of the Government. The correspondence turned, 
 as it is well known, upon the relative position of the Carlist 
 troops and officers in Aragon, and those which still sup- 
 ported the cause of Don Carlos in the Basque provinces. 
 
 But I will not pass without notice a fact highly credit- 
 able to these people, and which marks the natural courtesy 
 of the Spaniards. Though we were surrounded by people 
 professing different opinions, and following a course widely 
 different from our own, men who would not have scrupled 
 to put us to death ; although the curate now and then read 
 to them paragraphs highly irritating and injurious, inas- 
 much as they treated their sovereign with the greatest con- 
 tempt, and cast ridicule upon their generals, not a word 
 was uttered calculated to wound our feelings as partizans 
 of Queen Isabella. 
 
 It was not till four o'clock in the afternoon that the 
 worthy curate had an opportunity to enter into negotiation
 
 IX SPAIN 127 
 
 with the chief of our 'escort, in order to obtain my libera- 
 tion and that of my travelling companion. He took him 
 apart and spoke to him for some time. The result of the 
 conference, however, was not so satisfactory as I had anti- 
 cipated. Joaquinillo's answer was that he could not decide 
 without consulting his men, since, were he to grant my 
 request, they might afterwards inform against him. I my- 
 self went up to him in order to vanquish his scruples, and 
 offered to go and treat with the lads, promising at the same 
 time that if the negotiation were successful, I would remit 
 him twenty pounds sterling, upon my arrival at Calatayud, 
 besides the four gold doubloons which I had engaged to 
 give to his men. He assured me that I had nothing to 
 fear, and I would shortly be set free, as he had no doubt 
 that his men would accede to my proposition. Whilst the 
 negotiation was going on, the curate thought proper to 
 acquaint Miguel, the chief lately arrived, of what was pass- 
 ing, and, as the latter was the curate's friend, he not only 
 approved of the step, but came good-naturedly to congratu- 
 late me upon my approaching liberation. A passport was 
 immediately prepared for me and my servant, Don Fran- 
 cisco, which I happened to take to Joaquinillo to have his 
 signature. What was my astonishment to find that he 
 refused to sign it, upon the plea that his men, at the insti- 
 gation of Sergeant Burguillos, would not consent to my 
 liberation ! This ruffian had lately made himself guilty of 
 every cruelty and excess, committing various robberies and 
 extorting money even from people devoted to Don Carlos. 
 Finding that I had offered money for my liberation, he 
 fancied that I was a person of importance and had large 
 sums with me, and that my being taken to the Carlist camp 
 might be looked upon as an eminent service, and as a sort of 
 atonement for the crimes of which he had made himself guilty. 
 I went up to him and made use of every entreaty, but in 
 vain ; he constantly refused to be a party to my liberation.
 
 128 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 Cruelly disappointed in my expectation, I again fell into 
 a desponding state of mind, the more so that I soon 
 learned that the cooper, the copper-smith, and the French 
 baker had been suffered to depart for no other reason than 
 their being poor. We were soon ordered to march, and 
 took the road to Odoii, Miguel and bis men marching in an 
 opposite direction towards Castile. Soon after our depar- 
 ture a violent dispute arose between Sergeant Burguillos 
 and Joaquinillo, the former accusing the latter of having 
 received money for the liberation of his prisoners. Incensed 
 at this, Joaquinillo ordered three of his men to gallop after 
 the poor men, but although they found them at a short 
 distance from the place, they contented themselves with 
 taking everything from them, and suffered them to continue 
 their journey, saying, on their return, that they had not 
 found them. Far from putting an end to the dispute, this 
 incident aggravated it, and, as we went along, there was 
 nothing but vociferation and abuse, the men taking the 
 part of one or other of their officers, until I began to fear 
 an explosion, of which we all might be the victims. 
 
 At about one we arrived at a village between El Molina 
 and Odon, the name of which has escaped my memory ; our 
 party being diminished by five persons, besides some of the 
 mule-drivers, who, being no longer wanted, had been 
 suffered to depart. I threw myself on the ground ; but I 
 was soon roused from my slumber by one of the men 
 belonging to the escort, who most unceremoniously kicked 
 at me, saying that he wished to say a few words. This man 
 was a spare, thin, savage-looking fellow, with small pierc- 
 ing eyes ; Cebada (barley) was his name. He came to tell 
 me that one of his comrades had just been talking of asking 
 me for one doubloon, and that unless I immediately gave it 
 up, he apprehended there would be a row. I thanked him 
 for the information, but refused giving the money, upon 
 the plea that, not knowing how long I might be kept a
 
 IN SPAIN 129 
 
 prisoner, I did not like to part with my money ; but if 
 he and his comrades could agree to let me go, I would 
 willingly give up to them every farthing I had about me. 
 Whilst I was talking to this man, the signal for mounting 
 was given, and I lost the last hope of accomplishing my 
 liberation. We then started, bound for Odon, the small 
 town before mentioned. 
 
 During the night some of the ruffians who composed 
 our escort, taking advantage of the obscurity, went up to 
 one of the muleteers, and threatening him with instant 
 death if he uttered a word, stopped the luggage mule con- 
 fided to his care, broke open a trunk, the contents of 
 which they proceeded to divide among themselves. Infor- 
 mation of this outrage soon reached the ears of their com- 
 mander, Joaquinillo, who, blind with rage, rode up to the 
 men, and threatened to inform against them upon his 
 arrival at general quarters. 
 
 It was night when we reached Odon, where we were to 
 spend a few hours. In order to avoid a repetition of what 
 had just occurred, I directed Pascual, my muleteer, a fine, 
 active lad, of about eighteen, to look out for a safe place 
 for himself and the mule that carried my luggage. I, fol- 
 lowed by Don Francisco, went to the house of the curate of 
 the village, where I fixed my quarters. After taking some 
 refreshment, I laid down and went to sleep ; but I had 
 scarcely shut my eyes when I was suddenly awakened by a 
 great noise in the street. I looked out, and saw Joaquinillo 
 in the act of beating two men, one of whom belonged to 
 his own party, whilst the other, who^was a friend of Bur- 
 guillos, had deserted his company at El Molino, and joined 
 us. Fearing lest all these broils and disputes should bring 
 on something very unpleasant for us prisoners, I made a 
 last effort, if not to obtain my liberation and that of my 
 travelling companion, at least to part company with a set 
 of ruffians over whom it now became quite clear that their 
 
 K
 
 130 AX ADVENTURE 
 
 captain had but little command. As the town of Molina, 
 where General Balmaseda had his headquarters, was only 
 four leagues distant from Odon, I proposed to Joaquinillo 
 that he should allow me to remain at the curate's house, 
 whilst he and his men marched to that place, and ascer- 
 tained what were the general's intentions respecting us, 
 engaging my solemn word not to depart from the village 
 until Balmaseda's wish was known. All my arguments, 
 however, were in vain. Joaquinillo pulled out his instruc- 
 tions and gave them to me to read. The order was thus 
 conceived : ' The Captain, Lieutenant-Colonel by brevet 
 Don Joaquin Arranz, shall repair to the road between 
 Saragossa and Madrid, shall stop the mail which is to leave 
 Madrid on the 8th, besides all the diligences and other 
 carriages that may happen to pass by, and will bring before 
 me everything he may find on them, and all the passengers 
 of distinction. He will likewise go down Alharna, and 
 will seize all persons attending the baths there, and lead 
 them before my presence, excepting those that may be so 
 ill that their lives might be endangered through it.' Hav- 
 ing read the instructions, I gave him back the paper, and 
 suggested to him that my health being considerably shaken 
 by the fatigues of the journey, which I could no longer 
 endure, I was naturally comprised in the number of those 
 who were not to be marched to the general quarters of 
 Balmaseda ; to which he replied that the order alluded 
 merely to the people apprehended at the baths of Alhama, 
 and by no means to those arrested on the road, and he 
 ended by observing that in the state of insubordination in 
 which his men were, he dare not take upon himself the 
 responsibility of setting me at liberty, since, were he to do 
 so,- his life and that of the curate were in great danger 
 among such a set. of ruffians. 
 
 Seeing all hope vanish before me, I resigned myself to 
 my fate, and prepared to start. We started at about ten,
 
 IN SPAIN J31 
 
 towards the river Celta ; but we had scarcely marched half 
 an hour, being then in a plain, two miles distant from Odon, 
 when our attention was attracted by a great noise in the 
 rear of our column. It was Joaquinillo, who was disputing 
 with some of his men, and threatening them with a severe 
 castigation as soon as he reached general quarters. The 
 vociferation increased, the dispute rose high, and I expected 
 at every moment to see them lay hands on their com- 
 mander. It happened as I had foreseen ; Sergeant Garcia, 
 who rode on the right of Joaquinillo, suddenly pounced 
 upon him, snatched his sabre from him, and aimed a terrific 
 blow at his head, which the other parried with his arm. At 
 the same time he hallooed to the men in front of the column 
 to come to his assistance. ' Cebada ! ' he said ; ' now is the 
 time ; go it boys, and we shall soon see who commands here ! ' 
 Mad with rage, Joaquinillo begged Burguillos to lend him 
 his sabre that he might punish the insolence of Garcia ; but 
 that wretch, who was in the plot, rode away, leaving his 
 captain to get out of the scrape as well as he could. Garcia 
 then approached Joaquinillo, obliged him to dismount, 
 which being done, our boxes and trunks were laid on the 
 ground, broken open with the point of their lances, and their 
 contents shared among them. Among the trunks, that of 
 the French fencing-master was conspicuous, since, besides 
 a quantity of beautiful arms, such as swords, sabres, pistols, 
 and so forth, it contained about one hundred pounds in 
 money, the whole of which the ruffians proceeded to divide 
 among themselves, notwithstanding the prayers and en- 
 treaties of their own captain and of the worthy curate. The 
 Frenchman's rage when he saw his doubloons pass into the 
 hands of these men cannot well be described. He pulled 
 his hair, stamped his foot, and cried like a child, saying that 
 he was a ruined man, and that he had lost in one unlucky 
 hour the savings of many years. For my part, I own 
 that, when I saw such a scene of confusion and want of 
 
 K 2
 
 132 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 discipline, I began to fear the worst consequences, and, there- 
 fore, taking with me my muleteer, Pascual, I went up to the 
 curate, who, with his two servants, Thomas and Andrew, 
 was standing aloof from the party. My comrade, Fran- 
 cisco, being in as great a state of alarm as myself, came 
 also there for protection, and joined our party. Meanwhile, 
 the men, after holding a short conference, despatched one 
 of their number to me. It was Cebada, and I saw him 
 approach us with a countenance which boded no good. Tak- 
 ing me apart, as well as the curate, he asked me what money 
 I had. I answered him that I had no more than the four 
 doubloons which I had in the first instance offered as the 
 price of my liberation ; these he made me give him, adding 
 that I now might go with my servant whither I pleased. 
 Shortly after Sergeant Garcia made his appearance, and, 
 mixing in the conversation, asked me what I had done with 
 my watch. I told him that, having experienced much 
 kindness at the hands of the curate during our march, I 
 had thought it proper to present him with it, in token of 
 gratitude ; upon which he went up to the curate, and asked 
 him to surrender it, which he did. Thus ended this scan- 
 dalous scene ; the insurgents, seven in number, then left 
 us, taking with them the horse belonging to the captain, 
 who remained on foot. 
 
 I might easily have profited by the opportunity which 
 now presented itself, to part company with these people ; 
 but, not knowing to what dangers I might be exposed on 
 the road, I preferred remaining with the captain, and wait- 
 ing for a more favourable opportunity. I ought here to 
 observe that, owing to some circumstance for which I can- 
 not well account, my portmanteau was not touched by the 
 insurgents. 
 
 Having replaced on the mules' backs those articles of 
 our luggage which they would not take away, we resumed 
 our march in the direction of Corija del Campo. One hour
 
 IN SPAIN 133 
 
 afterwards we halted at a place distant two leagues from 
 the above-mentioned town, where a scene awaited us far 
 more tragic than the one which we had just witnessed. 
 The sun was high and the heat was insufferable. Our first 
 step after halting was to run to a neighbouring fountain to 
 quench the raging thirst which devoured us. The French 
 fencing-master, always the first on such occasions, seized a 
 large pitcher which happened to be there, drank a copious 
 draught, and passed it over to the curate, who drank, and 
 gave it to me. I then returned it to the Frenchman, who 
 offered it to Burguillos, who had by that time approached 
 the fountain on horseback. I was looking in another 
 direction, when I heard all of a sudden a most terrific 
 shriek. I looked, and saw Burguillos stretched on the 
 ground with one hand on his head, screaming at the top of 
 his voice that he had been murdered ; and saw, almost at 
 the same time, the fencing-master intrepidly attacking 
 Joaquinillo, sword in hand. "Without ascertaining the 
 cause of the disturbance, and thinking, no doubt, that a 
 party of the enemy had suddenly made its appearance upon 
 the spot, the curate, in great fright, galloped off. I fol- 
 lowed him on foot, entreating him to stop and allow me to 
 mount behind him ; but this he would not allow, on the 
 plea that if we were to fall in with a party of Christinos 
 they would do me no harm, whilst they would most 
 undoubtedly put him to death. I then left him, and per- 
 ceiving a stone wall at some distance from the road, hid 
 myself behind, to wait the result of this most unexpected 
 occurrence, which I could nowise Explain. I afterwards 
 ascertained that, whilst Burguillos was in the act of raising 
 the pitcher which the fencing- master tendered him to his 
 mouth, the latter stabbed him twice with a dagger which he 
 had concealed in his coat-sleeve ; taking then the sabre 
 of his adversary, who lay stretched on the ground, 
 lie went up to attack Joaquinillo, repeating all the time,
 
 134 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 with theatrical emphasis, 'Stand by my side, national 
 guards ! Liberty for ever ! ' At this moment one of the 
 muleteers took up a stone, and hurled it with such dexterity 
 and violence at the poor Frenchman's head that it struck 
 him on the right temple and brought him senseless to the 
 ground, and Joaquinillo coming up soon ran his sabre 
 through his body. Such was the end of this madman, who, 
 when his assistance might have been of some use, had 
 rejected my proposition to attack the escort ; and who, 
 goaded now to revenge by the loss of his savings, made 
 a useless display of courage, and brought death on him- 
 self. 
 
 I had been about an hour in my hiding-place, when I 
 again saw our column moving slowly along the road. I 
 confess that I was long hesitating whether I should join 
 them or not, as I might easily have procured a guide to 
 take me to Calatayud ; but the intendente was still among 
 them, and as he had been strongly recommended to my care, 
 I did not like to abandon him, the more so that, had he 
 reached general quarters without me, and had his real name 
 been ascertained, he would have been put to death imme- 
 diately. I therefore joined the column, determined to share 
 my comrade's fate or save his life. Soon after Burguillos 
 made his appearance under the care of one of the passengers 
 of the galera. He was badly, though not mortally, wounded ; 
 but he was so weak from the loss of blood that he was 
 obliged to remain at a village one league on this side of 
 Corija, where we made a short stay. 
 
 As we were approaching the river Celta our small 
 escort began to give visible signs of fear, as we were then 
 getting near to a district which was in the possession of the 
 Queen's troops. We passed through Corija without stop- 
 ping, and, having crossed the river, found ourselves on the 
 road which goes from Saragossa to Ceruel. Here, Joaquin- 
 illo, having seen in the distance a picquet of cavalry,
 
 LEANING TOWER OF SARAGOSSA. 
 BY DAVID ROBERTS, R.A.
 
 IX SPAIN 135 
 
 thought they were Christines, and galloped away in an 
 opposite direction, obliging us to follow him. Having, 
 however, found out that the suspicious horsemen belonged 
 to their own party, he drew up, and we then proceeded at 
 a moderate rate till we came to the foot of a moun- 
 tain-chain in those districts, which the Carlists emphatic- 
 ally called their line, and which afforded them great pro- 
 tection, being generally very high and of difficult access. 
 We entered these mountains through a narrow and pre- 
 cipitous pass, about two miles long, at the end of which we 
 met a few sheep grazing, the first that I had seen during 
 my peregrination. Here we halted for a while, and after 
 some time resumed our march. When we were about to 
 start, we found that one of our fellow -prisoners, the pas- 
 senger by the waggon, had disappeared. He was an artil- 
 lery officer, and fearing that upon his arrival at general 
 quarters he would be immediately shot, he took advantage 
 of the halt we made at this spot to make his escape from 
 his guards. The poor man, however, chose a most unlucky 
 moment ; for, scarcely had he proceeded half a mile on his 
 road when he was stopped by a cavalry soldier, who pre- 
 sented him to the commander of our escort, just at the 
 time we were entering the town of Rubielos. The soldier 
 stated that he had found the man alone on the road, who 
 told him that he was a Carlist artillery soldier belonging 
 to the garrison at Segura ; but that, suspecting all was not 
 right with him, he had brought him to his presence. Hear- 
 ing this, Joaquinillo got into a great rage, saying, ' The 
 scoundrel lies : he is no Carlist, he is one of our prisoners 
 just escaped from us ; ' then, turning towards his men, he 
 made them a signal, and told them to take away the guilty 
 officer. Suspecting some mishap, I went up to Joaquinillo, 
 and earnestly inquired of him what orders he had given 
 respecting the prisoner, when he answered me with the 
 greatest composure, ' I have ordered him to be shot ! '
 
 136 AN ADVENTURE 
 
 At about eight in the morning of the 12th we started 
 for Pancrudo, a small town situated in the midst of moun- 
 tains, where we arrived at one o'clock, and found that 
 Brigadier-General Rolo, the brother-in-law of Cabrera, had 
 just left the place at the head of two battalions and two 
 troops of cavalry, in the direction of Lucena, owing to 
 which no provisions of any sort could be found in the place. 
 I made every effort to procure eggs, but none were to be 
 found. The only food we could obtain was dried cod-fish, 
 cooked with rancid oil, and smelling of garlic, of which, of 
 course, I was obliged to partake with the rest, to escape 
 starvation. As we were sitting at this luxuriant repast, in 
 came galloping an orderly of Balmaseda, who brought a 
 verbal message from that chief to Joaquinillo. Taking him 
 apart, he communicated to him the orders of which he was 
 the bearer, whilst the curate and myself remained in sus- 
 pense, not knowing what to think. Presently Joaquinillo 
 made a sign to me and to the curate to approach, and told 
 us that he had received orders from the General to proceed 
 forthwith to a place called Martin del Rio, with all his 
 prisoners, enjoining him at the same time to treat me with 
 every consideration and respect. It is impossible for me 
 to describe the effect which these words of peace had upon 
 me ; they were like the balm poured upon the wounds 
 like the return of fine weather after a tempest. 
 
 About sunset of the same day we came in sight of the 
 town. We were at about a musket-shot from it, when we 
 saw four men on horseback making for our party. One of 
 them, who came in the middle, and who was taller and 
 stouter than the rest, rode with an air of great authority, 
 which called my attention. This made me inquire of the 
 curate and Joaquinillo, who rode by my side, who could 
 these be ; when to my great astonishment I heard them say 
 to each other ' It is General Balmaseda ! ' We immedi- 
 ately dismounted, seeing which, the General came up, gave
 
 IN SPAIN 137 
 
 me his hand, and, addressing me in English, asked me 
 whether I could speak Spanish. I answered him in the 
 affirmative, telling him at the same time that I was 
 delighted to hear him speak my native tongue, in which, 
 however, he never uttered another word. I took hold of 
 his arm, which he offered me, and we walked towards the 
 village, followed at some distance by the curate, Joaquin- 
 illo, and the General's own escort. Upon arriving at his 
 quarters the General ordered the prisoners to be billeted 
 about the town and the luggage and goods removed to his 
 own house, desiring me and my friend to take up our 
 residence there, adding, with much courtesy and affability, 
 ' I am exceedingly sorry that my people have caused you 
 such delay and inconvenience ; but, on the other hand, this 
 affords me the pleasure of having you in my company and 
 giving you an opportunity of judging by yourselves whether 
 a Carlist chief can always be made responsible for the 
 excesses committed by his subordinates.' He then asked 
 me whether I had any complaint to make against Joaquin- 
 illo or his men. I told him I had none, and that, although 
 I had been exceedingly annoyed by being taken so far out 
 of my way, I was yet disposed to forgive him, in considera- 
 tion for the kind treatment which I now experienced at his 
 hands ; and I concluded by advising him to give strict 
 orders in future that the chiefs of such marauding expedi- 
 tions should not interfere with foreigners or gentlemen 
 belonging to foreign legations. He offered me his excuses, 
 saying that, although he had fully intended to do so, in the 
 present case he had forgotten to give the order. 
 
 After a short delay, during which time the attache and 
 his friend were treated with every kindness, Balmaseda 
 gave them money and an escort and allowed them to de- 
 part ; and, after a few days' journey, they found themselves 
 safe among their friends at Saragossa.
 
 138 
 
 THE NUPTIALS OF THE DOGE 
 OF VENICE WITH THE ADRIATIC SEA 
 
 BY LORD MORPETH 
 
 DOGE 
 
 THOU blue and buoyant wave, 
 
 That lav'st my ducal tower, 
 Whom nature to me gave 
 
 For pastime and for power, 
 I ride upon thy foam, 
 
 I revel by thy side, 
 I claim thee as my home, 
 
 I woo thee for my bride. 
 
 ADRIATIC 
 
 Lord of the glitt'ring town, 
 
 The vineyard and the lea, 
 The mountain and the down, 
 
 What would'st thou on the sea 
 Thy mandates cannot sway 
 
 My waters as they roll ; 
 My wild waves in their play 
 
 Will spurn at thy control.
 
 VENICE 139 
 
 The portion of my hand 
 
 No monarch ever bore, 
 A gift from ev'ry land, 
 
 A spoil from ev'ry shore ; 
 Lo ! Venice is thine own, 
 
 Her beauty and her might, 
 The lions of her throne, 
 
 The bowers of her delight 
 
 Her massive domes and halls, 
 
 Her pillar'd corridors, 
 Her painting-cover'd walls, 
 
 Her marble-chequer'd floors ; 
 The portico and shrine, 
 
 The arsenal and quay, 
 Fair daughter of the brine, 
 
 I give them all to thee. 
 
 ADRIATIC 
 
 I bathe Gargano's steep, 
 
 Otranto's castled tower, 
 Ravenna's mould'ring keep, 
 
 Ancona's Doric bower ; 
 But, Venice, on my strand 
 
 I see not aught like thee ; 
 Then, first upon the land, 
 
 Be first upon the sea.
 
 1 40 VENICE 
 
 Ev'ry gem of the wave 
 
 Shall deck the spouse I wed, 
 Of my pearl-lighted cave, 
 
 My coral-pillow'd bed ; 
 All precious things that grow 
 
 Beneath the amber shower, 
 A thousand fathom low, 
 
 Shall be the sea-maid's dower. 
 
 I pledge to thee my vow, 
 
 Long as my ruling star 
 Binds commerce to my prow, 
 
 And conquest to my car : 
 Each accurs'd Moslem slave 
 
 From thy waters shall flee ; 
 None may tread on thy wave, 
 
 But the Faithful and Free. 
 
 ADRIATIC 
 
 Thy fleets where'er they sail, 
 
 For glory or for gain, 
 Through sunshine and through gale, 
 
 I'll speed across the main ; 
 The thunder of my deep 
 
 Shall rescue thee from harm, 
 I'll shed, too, round thy sleep 
 
 The music of my calm.
 
 VENICE 141 
 
 DOGE 
 
 Uplift the streamer bright, 
 
 Upraise the golden spear, 
 Each armour-girded knight, 
 
 Each gay-clad gondolier ; 
 A thousand voices sing, 
 
 As in thine azure tide 
 I drop the mystic ring, 
 
 My Adriatic bride. 
 
 ADBIATIC 
 
 Strike your ocean-tun'd shell, 
 
 Sister-choirs of the deep, 
 In your emerald cell 
 
 Lofty festival keep : 
 Chief of the countless gold ! 
 
 Chief of the fearless sword ! 
 The nuptial rite is told, 
 
 I take thee for my lord.
 
 142 
 
 ORIENTAL SPORTS 
 BY THE REV. HOBART GAUNTER, B.D. 
 
 ALL Mohammedan sovereigns in India, whether dependent 
 or supreme, from the time of Akbur to the present, have 
 evinced a decided partiality for those exhibitions in which 
 that celebrated monarch took such delight ; and the ele- 
 phant fights of Lucknow have been notorious ever since the 
 Mohammedan princes first established their courts in that 
 city. Whenever the king of Oude is visited by any Euro- 
 pean of note, he always has an elephant fight by way of 
 entertaining his guests. 1 
 
 The manner of conducting these sports is as follows : 
 A female elephant is introduced and led to the centre of 
 the enclosure, where she stands upon a gentle elevation, 
 looking around her with an evident consciousness of what 
 is about to take place. The two male combatants are now 
 driven in at different entrances. 
 
 The bodies of these pampered animals are covered with 
 a strong rope netting, to which the mahoots cling during 
 the shock of contention ; and this is frequently so violent 
 as to dislodge them in spite of their utmost efforts to pre- 
 vent such an issue, exposing them to imminent peril 
 indeed, those unfortunate persons are occasionally trodden 
 to death by the angry elephants when thrown from their 
 necks or haunches. Sometimes they are struck down by 
 the trunks of the enraged animals whilst encouraging or 
 goading them to the combat : they, however, generally con- 
 1 Written in 1837.
 
 ORIENTAL SPORTS 143 
 
 trive to evade such disasters, by retreating towards the 
 tails of their respective charges, as these latter meet in full 
 encounter. 
 
 So soon as the huge antagonists see the female they im- 
 mediately trot towards her ; but, coming in sight of each 
 other, there is usually a pause, during which the shaking 
 of the tail, the flapping of the ears, and the lifting of the 
 trunk manifest a state of extreme disquiet. The object of 
 contention does not attempt to quit her post, but stands, 
 with evident tokens of pleasure, mutely contemplating the 
 approaching struggle. After a short interval one of the 
 elephants rushes to the encounter ; and when both meet, 
 the shock is always tremendous. The tusks come into 
 stunning collision, and with so loud a shock as to be heard 
 at a distance of several hundred yards, the concussion being 
 so tremendous as to raise the two gigantic champions off 
 their fore-legs. After they have met, the contest some- 
 times becomes terrible in the extreme. They grasp one 
 another's trunks, butting with their heads, and occasionally 
 raising a shrill cry of the fiercest rage. The female, mean- 
 while, does not offer to interpose, but calmly surveys the 
 combat, as if with the gratifying consciousness that her 
 presence stimulates the gallant rivals to maintain the des- 
 perate struggle for victory. 
 
 After a while the weaker elephant invariably gives 
 way ; for, the moment these creatures become sensible of 
 their inferiority, they seem at once to be aware that the 
 chances of success are against them, and immediately relin- 
 quish the encounter. When this is the case he usually 
 turns, and makes a sudden retreat, pursued by the victor, 
 which sometimes applies his tusks so forcibly to the rear of 
 his retreating adversary as to leave indelible marks of his 
 strength, and frequently to shake the mahoot from the net- 
 work, to which he had clung during the contest. 
 
 When the elephants are equally matched, they continue
 
 144 ORIENTAL SPORTS 
 
 striking at each other's heads, bringing their tusks into 
 such violent contact as often snaps them close to the jaw ; 
 thus, in a manner, disabling the sufferer for the rest of his 
 life, as the jaw generally becomes diseased after so severe a 
 fracture, and in many cases to such an extent that it is 
 found necessary to destroy the animal. 
 
 When the contest appears likely to terminate fatally, 
 rockets are thrown between the competitors. Of these 
 they have a great dread ; nevertheless, in some instances, 
 so implacable is their fury that the rockets fail to separate 
 them ; in which case they are attacked in the rear with 
 long spears by men on horseback, who strike them so sharply 
 that they turn upon their assailants, whom they pursue 
 with all the rage of baffled determination, often putting the 
 horses of their tormentors to their utmost speed ere the 
 latter can escape the threatened vengeance of their mad- 
 dened pursuers. The female is now withdrawn, and the 
 object of excitement being no longer in view, the mahoots 
 have little difficulty in persuading their charges to retire 
 peaceably from the scene of contention. 
 
 I remember once seeing, at an entertainment of this 
 kind, three wild buffaloes driven into the arena against an 
 elephant. In order to render them the more fierce, crackers 
 were fastened to their tails. During the explosion of these, 
 the terrified animals ran to and fro as if in a state of frenzy, 
 and one of them charged the elephant, which stood in a 
 corner of the square, with the blind and misguided fury of 
 madness. The colossal creature watched his victim as it 
 plunged desperately forward, calmly awaiting its approach 
 with his head depressed, and the point of his tusks brought 
 to a level with the shoulders of his advancing foe. The 
 buffalo rushed onward, and was almost instantly impaled ; 
 the elephant casting the writhing body from his tusks, and 
 then coolly crushing it with his fore-feet. 
 
 The two other buffaloes, having now somewhat re-
 
 ORIENTAL SPORTS 145 
 
 covered from the terror excited by the crackers, which had 
 hitherto diverted their attention from the elephant, gazed 
 wildly round the enclosure, and, seeing their enemy pre- 
 pared for a charge, pawed the ground, raising the dust, and 
 flinging the earth over their heads with their hoofs in a 
 continued shower ; then erecting their tails, with a loud 
 roar they simultaneously charged the elephant, which still 
 remained in the corner where he had at first stationed him- 
 self. He eyed them with a deliberate but keen glance, 
 placing his head, as before, towards the ground, and bring- 
 ing those terrible instruments of destruction with which his 
 jaws were armed in a position to meet the charge of his 
 foremost foe. The result was precisely the same as in the 
 former attack, the buffalo being instantly transfixed upon 
 the elephant's tusks ; but before the victor could release 
 them from their incumbrance, the second buffalo was upon 
 him. With the quickness of thought, however, he raised 
 his fore-leg and struck his assailant between the horns, 
 rolling it over and instantly crushing it to death. 
 
 It sometimes, indeed, happens in these encounters when 
 the elephant is timid, which is the natural character of this 
 animal, that he is dreadfully gored by his furious assailants, 
 to which he offers no resistance, but flies from them in great 
 terror. An old elephant is generally too wary and too 
 conscious of his own strength to allow himself to be sub- 
 dued by such inferior adversaries, and when he offers a 
 resolute resistance, the buffaloes invariably fare the worst. 
 But at these cruel exhibitions, however the contest ter- 
 minates, there is much more distress than enjoyment ex- 
 perienced at least, by European spectators, to whom the 
 sight of a violent death inflicted even upon animals which 
 they naturally hold in dread is, in most cases, a spectacle 
 altogether shocking to the better feelings of humanity. On 
 the occasion to which I have just referred, after the contest 
 between the elephant and buffaloes, a bear was introduced 
 
 L
 
 146 ORIENTAL SPORTS 
 
 before the party assembled to witness the sports, and a 
 man undertook to encounter it without any arms, save a 
 gauntlet made of buffalo horn, called a jetty. 
 
 The bear was a large one of its species, and had been 
 kept without food for two days, in order to render it the 
 more fierce. When first released from its den, it paced the 
 ground with a sullen aspect, occasionally looking up at the 
 spectators and uttering a low dismal roar, but showed no 
 symptoms of positive exasperation. The moment the man 
 entered, it paused, erected itself on its hind legs, and yelled 
 loudly. The Hindoo was a tall, powerful young man, with 
 extremely long arms, a fine expansive chest, and a clear 
 beaming eye, expressive of cool determination and wary 
 caution. He first commenced operations by walking round 
 his adversary, sometimes advancing, then retreating now 
 quickening his pace, then suddenly stopping, all the while 
 distracting the attention of his angry foe by numerous con- 
 tortions of body, occasionally clapping his hands, striking 
 his chest, and springing from the ground with an agility 
 which would have surprised the most accomplished ' maitre 
 de ballet ' in Europe. 
 
 His shaggy opponent, at length becoming enraged, ad- 
 vanced upon him with a shriek of rage, and extended a 
 paw to grasp his hip : but the Hindoo, with the rapidity of 
 lightning, planted a blow upon the bear's cheek, which cut 
 open the skin, and sent Bruin staggering several paces 
 backwards. The poor animal seemed for a moment stunned 
 with surprise, and before it could recover it received 
 another tremendous hit on the muzzle, which caused it to 
 turn and run to the corner of the enclosure. After shaking 
 its nose and sneezing, it once more erected its body, having 
 now its back supported by the bamboo railings. The man 
 tried by all sorts of gesticulations, suddenly retreating and 
 falling down, to draw his adversary from its position, but 
 in vain. The animal was evidently aware of the advantage
 
 ORIENTAL SPORTS 147 
 
 of presenting to its antagonist only one point of attack, and 
 therefore would not budge from its corner ; but, covering 
 its head with its large shaggy paws, the Hindoo champion 
 found it extremely difficult to deliver a blow where it 
 would be likely to be effectual. Finding that he could not 
 rouse the bear, he sprang forward and gave it a smart kick 
 in the flank : this caused the animal suddenly to depress its 
 paws ; in an instant, the jetty was rattling on its head with 
 a severity which caused it to yell for several seconds. It 
 now lay on the earth with its muzzle in the corner, and its 
 back towards its conqueror, who, disdaining to strike a fallen 
 enemy, made his salaam to the spectators with a grace 
 peculiar to all the Eastern races, and retired from the scene 
 of combat amidst their unanimous acclamations. The bear 
 was a good deal punished, but its skull was too hard to be 
 cracked with the blow of a fist. 
 
 The defeat of the bear was followed by an exhibition of 
 a different order. A slight but firm ladder, composed of 
 bamboo, was placed upright on the ground within the area, 
 a strong pole crossing the top at right angles ; from the 
 end of this pole two stout cords depended, which were tight- 
 ened to stay the ladder, the ends being staked into the 
 ground in such a manner that the apparatus could not give 
 way. A small muscular Hindoo was then introduced, 
 naked to the waist, dressed only in a pair of short white 
 trousers, which extended half-way down his thighs. The 
 muscles of his arms were of prodigious size, while those of 
 his legs were small in the comparison. He wore no turban, 
 but a gay skull-cap composed of yellow and pale blue silk. 
 From each ear depended a large plain gold ring. 
 
 Upon entering, the little man made his salaam to the 
 audience ; then, rubbing his palms together for a few mo- 
 ments, he bounded towards the ladder, and, grasping the 
 first bar above his head with both hands, mounted with 
 astonishing activity, keeping his feet all the while perfectly 
 
 L 2
 
 148 ORIENTAL SPORTS 
 
 motionless, and at least six inches from the frame. Having 
 raised himself by his hands alone to the transverse pole, by 
 a sudden jerk of his body he threw his feet upward, and 
 was in a moment seen resting upon his head with his arms 
 crossed over his bosom and his legs closed, forming an in- 
 verted triangle from the shoulders to the toes. He con- 
 tinued in this position for upwards of a minute without 
 the slightest motion, appearing as if he had been suddenly 
 converted into stone, amid the shouts of an applauding mul- 
 titude. When he had sufficiently rested himself after the 
 toil of climbing, a strong cord was flung to him from below, 
 which he caught, and drew from the ground a ball, appa- 
 rently about six pounds weight, of solid iron : it was en- 
 closed in a stout netting of twine, to which the cord was 
 securely attached. 
 
 Having drawn up the ball to within about three yards 
 from his hand, the dexterous Hindoo, who remained still 
 upon his head, gradually swung it backward and forward 
 until he was able to describe the entire circle, when, swing- 
 ing it round three several times, he elanced it from his 
 grasp, sending it over the heads of the spectators to the 
 distance of seventy- five paces at least sixty yards. He 
 now lowered his legs, and placed himself upon his back 
 along the pole. When he had perfectly secured his equili- 
 brium, six creases or daggers, with broad double-edged 
 blades, were thrown to him ; these he caught successively 
 with great dexterity, still maintaining his horizontal posi- 
 tion upon the transverse bamboo. When he had possessed 
 himself of the six daggers, he threw them one after the 
 other several yards above his head, catching them as they 
 fell, four always being in the air at the same instant ; and 
 this he continued for the space of at least two minutes, at 
 length letting them drop one by one on his body, the 
 handle invariably coming in contact with it, and the blade 
 being always uppermost.
 
 ORIENTAL SPORTS 149 
 
 The performer next took an iron rod about three feet 
 long, and, standing erect upon the pole, placed the rod in 
 the centre, and upon the top of it a shallow wooden bowl. 
 With a sudden spring he seated himself in the bowl, 
 balancing the rod so accurately that it did not appear to 
 move a hair's breadth out of the perpendicular. In this 
 situation twelve brass balls were flung to him ; these he 
 caught and projected into the air, keeping them in per- 
 petual motion for several minutes : he then sprang upon 
 his feet, standing in the bowl, without allowing a single 
 ball to reach the ground. When this had been continued 
 for another interval of two or three minutes, he leaped upon 
 the bamboo, the iron rod and its wooden crown falling at 
 the same instant to the ground. The little man concluded 
 this clever exhibition by descending the ladder upon his 
 hands head foremost amid the shouts of the assembled 
 multitude. 
 
 After several other displays of skill, the sports con- 
 cluded by a native throwing a quoit at a mark with as- 
 tonishing force and precision. The quoit used on this 
 occasion was somewhat flatter than that generally em- 
 ployed in the rustic games of Europe : it was more deli- 
 cately shaped, and had a sharp cutting edge all round the 
 exterior circle. The quoit-thrower was a short but stout 
 man, nearly as black as an African, his whole body covered 
 with hair, and his countenance extremely stern and for- 
 bidding. 
 
 A wooden frame being placed at one end of the enclosure, 
 with three white lines marked upon it, an inch and a half 
 broad, the quoit-thrower stood at least twenty yards from 
 the mark, and, having fixed the quoit upon the forefinger of 
 his right hand, he whirled it round for several seconds, and 
 then discharged it with amazing velocity at the wooden 
 frame, striking the centre line, and impelling it above an 
 inch into the wood, in which the disk stuck so firmly as to
 
 150 ORIENTAL SPORTS 
 
 require a considerable tug to withdraw it. This he repeated 
 twice, striking the second and third white lines with equal 
 dexterity and force. 
 
 A pine-apple was next suspended from a pole at the 
 same distance, at which the man discharged his missile 
 cutting the fruit completely through the centre ; thus 
 showing that this simple instrument may be used with great 
 effect in native warfare, in which it is occasionally em- 
 ployed. 
 
 The natives of Hindostan are celebrated throughout the 
 East for their feats of manual skill ; in these I think they 
 are unequalled by the inhabitants of any other country. 
 Their strength, too, in some instances is perfectly amazing, 
 when we consider the homely diet upon which they feed, 
 and the attenuating climate in which they dwell.

 
 151 
 
 THE STORM 
 BY ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER 
 
 THE Tempest rages wild and high, 
 The waves lift up their voice and cry 
 Fierce answers to the angry sky ; 
 
 Miserere Domine. 
 
 Through the black night and driving rain, 
 A ship is struggling, all in vain, 
 To live upon the stormy main ; 
 
 Miserere Domine. 
 
 The thunders roar, the lightnings glare, 
 Vain is it now to strive or dare ; 
 A cry goes up of great despair ; 
 
 Miserere Domine. 
 
 The stormy voices of the main, 
 The roaring wind, the pelting rain 
 Beat on the nursery window-pane ; 
 
 Miserere Domine. 
 
 Warm-curtained was the little bed, 
 Soft pillowed was the little head ; 
 ' The storm will wake the child/ they said ; 
 
 Miserere Domine.
 
 152 THE STORM 
 
 Cowering among his pillows white, 
 
 He prays, his blue eyes dim with fright, 
 
 ' Father ! save those at sea to-night ; ' 
 
 Miserere Domine. 
 
 The morning shone all clear and gay 
 On a ship at anchor in the bay, 
 And on a little child at play ; 
 
 Gloria tibi Domine /
 
 153 
 
 AN INTERESTING EVENT 
 BY W. M. THACKERAY 
 
 SITTING the other day alone at dinner at the club, and at 
 the next table to Smith, who was in conversation with his 
 friend Jones, I could not but overhear their colloquy, or, 
 rather, Mr. Smith's communication to his friend. As, after 
 all, it betrays no secrets of private life ; as his adventure, 
 such as it is, may happen to any one of us ; and as, above 
 all, the story is not in the least moral or instructive, I 
 took the liberty of writing it down, as follows : 
 
 ' I could not go to that dinner at the Topham Sawyers,' 
 Smith remarked, 'where you met the Duke, and where 
 Beaumoris sat next to Miss Henrica Hays (whom I certainly 
 should have manoeuvred to hand down to dinner, and of 
 course should have had as good a chance as Bo of proposing 
 for her, of being accepted, and getting a wife notoriously 
 consumptive, and with six thousand a-year), I could not 
 go to the Topham Sawyers, because I had accepted an 
 invitation to dine with my old schoolfellow Budgeon. He 
 lives near Hyde Park Gardens, in the Tyburn quarter. 
 He does not give dinners often, and I make it a point, when 
 I have promised to go to a man dammy, sir, I make it a 
 point not to throw him over.' 
 
 Jones here remarked that the wine was with Smith, which 
 the other acknowledged by filling up a bumper, and then 
 resumed :
 
 154 AX INTERESTING EVENT 
 
 ' I knew that the Budgeons had asked a large party, 
 and, indeed, all their crack people ; for I had seen Mrs. 
 Budgeon in the Park the day before, driving by the Ser- 
 pentine in her open carriage, and looking uncommonly 
 interesting. She had her best folks, she mentioned them : 
 nor did I forget to let her know that I was myself invited 
 to the Topham Sawyers on the same day, for there is no 
 use in making yourself too cheap ; and if you do move about 
 in a decent circle, Jones, my boy, I advise you to let your 
 friends know it.' 
 
 Jones observed that he thought the claret was corked, 
 and the filberts were fine. Smith continued: 
 
 1 1 do not always array myself in a white neckcloth and 
 waistcoat to go to dinner, Jones, but I think it is right on 
 grand days to do so I think it's right. Well, sir, I put 
 myself into my very best fig, embroidered shirt, white 
 waistcoat, turquoise buttons, white stockings, and that sort 
 of thing, and set out for Budgeon's at a quarter to eight. 
 I dressed here at the Club. My fool of a servant had not 
 brought me any white gloves though ; so I was obliged to 
 buy a pair for three-and-sixpence, as we drove by Houbi- 
 gant's. 
 
 ' I recollect that it was the thirty-first of June, and, as 
 a matter of course, it was pouring with rain. By the way, 
 do you bake your white neckcloths in damp weather, Jones ? 
 It's the only way to keep 'em right.' 
 
 Jones said he thought this was a better bottle than the 
 last. 
 
 ' I drove up, sir, to Budgeon's door at Hyde Park 
 Gardens, and of course had a row with the scoundrelly 
 cabman about his fare. I gave him eighteenpence ; he said 
 a gentleman would have given him half -a- crown. " Confound 
 your impudence, sir ! " said I. " Veil," said the impudent 
 brute, "veil, I never said you vos one." At this moment 
 Budgeon's door was opened by Cobb, his butler. Cobb was
 
 AN INTERESTING EVENT 155 
 
 still in pepper-and-salt trousers, which surprised me. He 
 looked rather dubiously at me in the cab. 
 
 1 " Am I late ? " says I. 
 
 ' " No, sir ; only you haven't got your note ? But my 
 master will see you, sir. You stop here, cab." 
 
 'And quitting the vehicle, of which the discontented 
 rascal of a driver still persisted in saying, that " a gentleman 
 would gimmy 'alf-a-crownd," I entered Mr. Budgeon's house, 
 splashing my white stockings in the mud as I went in, to 
 the accompaniment of a hee-haw from the brute on the 
 cab box. The familiarity of the people, sir, is disgusting. 
 
 ' I was troubled as I entered. The two battants of the 
 hall-door were not cast open ; the fellows in black were not 
 there to bawl out your name up the stairs ; there was only 
 Cobb, in a dirty Marsella waistcoat, jingling his watch-chain. 
 
 '"Good Heavens, Cobb ! " says I for I was devilish 
 hungry " what has happened 1 " And I began to think 
 (for I have heard Budgeon is rather shaky) that there was 
 an execution in the house. 
 
 ' " Missis, sir little girl, sir about three o'clock, sir 
 master will see you Mr. Smith, sir." And with these 
 words Cobb ushered me into the dining-room, where Bud- 
 geon sat alone. 
 
 ' There was not the least preparation for a grand dinner, 
 as you may suppose. It is true that a soiled and crumpled 
 bit of old table-cloth was spread at one corner of the table, 
 with one knife and fork laid ; but the main portion of the 
 mahogany was only covered with its usual green baize, and 
 Budgeon sat at a farther end in his dressing gown, and 
 writing letter after letter. They are a very numerous 
 family. She was a Miss Walkinghame, one of the Wilt- 
 shire Walkinghames. You know her name is Fanny 
 Decima, and I don't know how far the teens in the family 
 went. Budgeon has five sisters himself, and he was firing 
 off notes to all these amiable relatives when I came in.
 
 156 AN INTEKESTING EVENT 
 
 They were all, as you may suppose, pretty much to the 
 same effect : 
 
 ' " My dear Maria " (or Eliza, or Louisa, according to 
 circumstances), "I write a hasty line to say that our dear 
 Fanny has just made me a present of a fifth little girl. Dr. 
 Bloxam is with her, and I have the happiness to say that 
 they are both doing perfectly well. With best regards to 
 Hickson " (or Thompson, or Jackson, as the case and the 
 brother-in-law may be), " I am, my dear, &c., affectionately 
 yours, Leonard Budgeon." 
 
 'Twenty-three of these letters to relatives, besides 
 thirty-eight to put off the dinner and evening party, Bud- 
 geon had written ; and he bragged about it as if he had 
 done a great feat. For my part, I thought, with rage, that 
 the Topham Sawyers' dinner was coming off at that minute 
 and that I might have been present but for this disagreeable 
 contretemps. 
 
 1 " You're come in time to wish me joy ! " says Budgeon, 
 looking up from his paperasses in a piteous tone and manner. 
 
 ' " Joy, indeed !" says I. In fact I wished him at Bath. 
 
 ' " I'm so accustomed to this sort of thing," said he, " that 
 I'm no longer excited by it at all. You'll stay and dine 
 with me, now you're come." 
 
 ' I looked daggers at him ! I might have dined at the 
 Topham Sawyers, I said, but for this sudden arrival. 
 
 ' " What is there for dinner, Cobb ? You'll lay a cover 
 for Mr. Smith." 
 
 ' Cobb looked grave. " The cook is gone to fetch Mrs. 
 Walkinghame. I've kep the cab to go to Queen Charlotte's 
 Hospital for for the nuss. Buttons is gone out with the 
 notes, sir. The young ladies' maid has taken them to their 
 haunt Codger's ; the other female servants is busy upstairs 
 with missis, sir." 
 
 ' " Do you mean there's no dinner 1 " cries Budgeon, 
 looking as if he was relieved though. " Well, I have written
 
 AN INTERESTING EVENT 157 
 
 the notes. Bloxatn says my wife is on no account to be 
 disturbed ; and I tell you what, Smith, you shall give me a 
 dinner at the Club." 
 
 ' " Very good," I growled out ; although it is deuced 
 hard to be obliged to give a dinner when you have actually 
 refused the Topham Sawyers. And Cobb, going to his 
 master's dressing-room, returned thence with the coat, hat, 
 and umbrella, with which that gentleman usually walks 
 abroad. 
 
 ' " Come along," said I, with the best grace ; and we 
 were both going out accordingly, when suddenly the door 
 opened, and Mrs. Wake, Mrs. Budgeon's maid, who has 
 been with her ever since she was born, made her 
 appearance. 
 
 ' A man who has in his house a lady's maid who has 
 been with his wife ever since she was born, has probably 
 two tyrants, certainly one, over him. I would not take a 
 girl with ten thousand a-year and a maid who has been 
 with her from the nursery. If your wife is not jealous of 
 you, that woman is. If your wife does not know when you 
 slip in from the Club, after midnight, that woman is awake, 
 depend upon it, and hears you go upstairs. If, under 
 pretence of a long debate in the House of Commons, you 
 happen to go to Greenwich with a bachelor party, that 
 woman finds the Trafalgar bill in your pocket, and somehow 
 hears of your escapade. You fancy yourself very indepen- 
 dent and unobserved, and that you carry on, you rogue ! 
 quite snugly and quietly through life. Fool ! you are 
 environed by spies, and circumvented by occult tyrants. 
 Your friends' servants and your own know all that you do. 
 Your wife's maid has intelligences with all the confidential 
 females and males of your circle. You are pursued by 
 detectives in plain (some in second-hand) clothes, and your 
 secrets are as open to them as the area-gate by which they 
 enter your house. Budgeon's eye quailed before that severe
 
 158 AX INTERESTING EVENT 
 
 light blue one which hawk-beaked Mrs. Wake fixed upon 
 him. 
 
 ' " You are not a going out, sir ? " said that woman, in a 
 cracked voice. 
 
 ' " Why, Wake, I was going to to dine at the Club 
 with Mr. Smith ; that's all, with Mr. Smith, you know ! " 
 and so, of course, / was dragged in. 
 
 ' " I'll tell my missis, sir, that Mr. Smith wished to take 
 you away ; though I'm sure he didn't know her situation, 
 and a blessed baby born only five hours, and the medical 
 man in the house." 
 
 ' " Hang it ! " says I, " I never asked I that is 
 1 " O ! I dessay, sir, it was master as ast hisself," Mrs. 
 Wake answered. u And my poor missis upstairs, and I've 
 been with her ever since she was born, and took her from 
 the month, that I did, and / won't desert her now. But 
 I won't answer for her life, nor Dr. Bloxam won't, if master 
 should go out now, as you are a goin' to, sir." 
 
 ' " Good Heavens, Wake ! why shouldn't I ? There's 
 no dinner for me. You turned me out of Mrs. Budgeon's 
 room when I went upstairs, and ordered me not to come up 
 again." 
 
 ' " She's not to be disturbed on no account, sir. The 
 dear suffering think," Mrs. Wake said. " Her mar is coming 
 and will soon be year, that's one comfort, and will keep you 
 company." 
 
 '"Oh yes, Mrs. Walkinghame," Budgeon ruefully said. 
 " Where is she to sleep, Wake 1 " 
 
 ' " In the best bedroom, sir ; in course, in the yellow 
 room, sir," Wake answered. 
 
 ' " And and where am I to go ? " asked the gentleman. 
 ' " Your things is halready brought down into the study, 
 and you're to sleep on the sofy and harm-chair, of course, 
 sir," the other said. 
 
 ' Budgeon, now, is a very stout, bulky little man, the
 
 AN INTERESTING EVENT 159 
 
 " sofy " is only a rout-seat, and the arm-chair is what you 
 call a Glastonbury an oak chair ornamented with middle- 
 age gim-cracks, and about as easy as Edward the Confessor's 
 fauteuil in Westminster Abbey. I pictured the wretch to 
 myself, stretched out on a couch which a fakeer or a hermit 
 would find hard to lie on. 
 
 ' " Oh, thank you ! " was all the cowed slave could say ; 
 and I saw at once, from his behaviour to that supercilious 
 female, and the bewildered obedience which he appeared to 
 bestow on her, that there was some secret between them 
 which rendered the domestic the mistress of her employer 
 I wonder what it could have been, Jones ? She had read 
 private letters out of his waistcoat pocket, very likely. At 
 any rate, my dear fellow, when you marry, take care to have 
 no secrets, or of submitting to an inquisitor over you in the 
 shape of a lady's maid.' 
 
 Jones (who, by the way, is not, I should say, a man of 
 much conversational power) just thanked Smith to pass the 
 bottle ; and the latter resumed his harrowing narrative. 
 
 ' As we were conversing in the above manner, there 
 came a banging knock at the door, one of those coarse, 
 vulgar, furious peals which a cabman, imitating a footman, 
 endeavours to perform. We all started guiltily as we heard 
 it. It was most likely some outlying guest who, like myself, 
 had not received his note of excuse, and had come forth to 
 partake of Budgeon's most Barmecidal entertainment. 
 
 ' " And you haven't even a-tied up the knocker ! " said 
 Mrs. Wake, with a look of withering scorn. The knocker 
 had slipped his memory, Budgeon owned. At which the 
 maid said " Of course." Of course she said of course. 
 
 ' Now Mrs. Wake, looking savagely round her and round 
 the room, saw on the table my Gibus' hat, which I had set 
 down there, and in it my bran-new white gloves, that I had 
 bought at Houbigant's for three-and-sixpence. A savage 
 satisfaction lighted up her eyes as she viewed them, and
 
 160 AN INTERESTING EVENT 
 
 diving down into her pocket, and producing thence a piece 
 of string, this fiend in human shape seized hold of my gloves 
 with a sarcastic apology, and said she was sure I would have 
 no objection to her tying up the knocker with them, and 
 preventing her missis from being knocked to death. So she 
 sailed out of the room with my three-and-sixpence in her 
 hands, and, being a tall, bony woman, who could reach up 
 to the knockers without difficulty, she had each of them 
 soon muffled up in a beautiful white French kid, No. 8^. 
 
 ' " You see how it is, old boy," Budgeon dismally said. 
 " Fanny doesn't like my leaving the house ; and, in her 
 delicate condition, of course, we must humour her. I 
 must come and dine with you some other day. We have 
 plenty of time before us, you know. And to-night I 
 must stop and receive my mother-in-law and take a mutton- 
 chop at home." 
 
 ' " Take a mutton-chop at home indeed ! " The wretched 
 man little knew what truth he was telling there ; for I give 
 you my honour, sir, five minutes afterwards, Mrs. Wake, 
 having finished tying up the door with my gloves, and all 
 the other servants of the house being absent upon various 
 errands connected with the interesting occasion, she re- 
 appeared amongst us, holding an uncovered dish, on which 
 there were two cold mutton-chops left from the children's 
 dinner ! And I left the unhappy man to eat these, and 
 went away to devour my own chagrin. 
 
 ' It was pouring with rain, sir, as I went down the street. 
 There are no cabs within a mile of Hyde Park Gardens ; 
 and I was soon wet through, and my shirt-front and cravat 
 all rumpled with rain ; otherwise I might have gone into a 
 tavern and dined, and slipped into the Topham Sawyers in 
 the evening. But I was too great a figure for that ; and I 
 was forced, positively, to come back to this Club to take my 
 morning clothes out of the bag, and reassume them, and to 
 dine here at my own charge, after having refused one of the 
 best dinners in London.'
 
 AN INTERESTING EVENT 161 
 
 ' Is that all, old boy 1 ' Jones asked. 
 
 ' All ! no, it isn't all ! ' said Smith, with a horrid shriek 
 of laughter. ' Look here, sir.' And he pulled out a note, 
 which he read, and which was to the following effect : 
 
 1 " Dear Smith, You were the first person in the house 
 after an interesting event occurred there, and Fanny and I 
 have agreed that you must be godfather to our little stranger. 
 Both are doing very well, and your little god-daughter elect 
 is pronounced by the authorities to be the prettiest and 
 largest child ever seen of her age. 
 
 ' " Mrs. Walkinghame is still with us, and "Wake allows 
 me to go out sometimes. When will you give me the dinner 
 you promised me at the Megatherium ? We might go to 
 Vauxhall afterwards, where Van Amburgh, I am told, is 
 very interesting and worth seeing. 
 
 ' " Yours ever, dear Smith, 
 
 ' " LEONARD BUDGEON." 
 
 ' There, sir,' cried Smith, ' isn't that enough to try any 
 man's patience ? Just tot up what that " interesting event " 
 has cost me not the dinner to Budgeon, who is a good 
 fellow, and I don't grudge it to him but the rest. Cabs, 
 four shillings ; gloves, three-and-six ; Henrica Hays, whom 
 I might have had with two hundred thousand pounds ; and 
 add to this a silver mug or a papboat, which will cost me four 
 or five pound, and a couple of guineas to that vixen of a 
 Mrs. Wake ; and all coming from an interesting event.' 
 
 ' Suppose we have coffee ? ' Jones remarked. And as 
 I could not listen decently any more to their conversation, 
 I laid down the newspaper and walked away.
 
 162 
 
 A SUMMER DAY 
 BY J. DODDS 
 
 SUNRISE FORENOON 
 
 THE sun is rising, and an eastern breeze 
 
 Is blowing freshness through the waving trees ; 
 
 The air is kindling into rosy light, 
 
 And Day rides forth in flaming chariot bright. 
 
 Thick -sown with freshening dew the meadow lies, 
 And misty vapours from the valley rise, 
 To curl like robes around the mountains dun, 
 Then melt away before the thirsty sun. 
 
 The rural revelry, that rang the while 
 The husbandman began his pleasant toil, 
 Now dies away, and Industry severe 
 In peace pursues the labours of the year. 
 
 The herds have settled to their pastures green, 
 An animated, yet a quiet scene ; 
 Along the flowery sward they slowly pass, 
 And revel on the richness of the grass. 
 
 So silent grows the day, that even the bird 
 Among the rustling leaves is clearly heard, 
 And the sweet murmur of the tiny stream 
 That wild flowers shelter from the solar beam.
 
 A SUMMER DAY 163 
 
 Now the clear sun looks fiercely down, and soon 
 Will he be mounted on the tower of noon ; 
 The massy shadow of yon stately tree 
 Glooms like a dark isle in a tropic sea. 
 
 NOON 
 
 Now comes the calm luxurious hour of rest, 
 By all the panting sons of labour blest ; 
 Sweet at this burning season, doubly sweet 
 To all who mingle in its toil and heat. 
 
 The humming beech-tree shadow o'er him cast, 
 The sun-burnt hedger sits at his repast, 
 Like monarch at a feast ; with relish rare 
 He banquets on his poor, unseasoned fare. 
 
 The lambs that sported, and the ewes that fed, 
 The morning long, now seek the rustic shed, 
 Or by the shady margin of the wood, 
 They rest, and o'er their past regalement brood. 
 
 In fine, all creatures of the earth and air, 
 Oppressed and panting, to the shade repair, 
 And feel it all their luxury to shun 
 The torrid splendour of the lofty sun. 
 
 Beside the secret and dark-shaded bank, 
 With dewy flowers and undried verdure rank, 
 The pensive stripling seeks the waters cool, 
 And plunges, swan-like, in the quiet pool. 
 
 The aged shepherd, on the mountain side 
 Stretched thoughtfully, beholds a prospect wide ; 
 A stunted thorn its shadow o'er him flings, 
 And at his feet a bubbling fountain springs. 
 
 M 2
 
 164 A SUMMER DAY 
 
 There doth the rustic sage untroubled lie, 
 And ponder much untaught philosophy ; 
 With look of silent rapture he surveys 
 The pictured valley lying in a blaze. 
 
 By Nature's best inheritance 'tis his ; 
 Thence he derives a heritage of bliss. 
 Though but the master of an humble fold, 
 His the delight, another's is the gold. 
 
 AFTERNOON NIGHT 
 
 But now the woodman, lively after rest, 
 Resumes his toil upon the mountain's breast, 
 And with a blithesome, oft-repeated tune, 
 Beguiles the long and sunny afternoon. 
 
 By the wild brook, among its rushy bowers, 
 
 The little village maidens gather flowers. 
 
 To their charmed sense, the beauteous buds they hold 
 
 Are dearer far than fairy gems of gold. 
 
 Without a tear yet grief too soon will come 
 They sport, nor is their merry pastime dumb ; 
 So lovely in their fleeting lives, they seem 
 Like water-lilies floating down a stream. 
 
 These sportive children of the laughing eye, 
 And brow serene as the unclouded sky, 
 Run gracefully, and shout, and look behind, 
 Their bright locks playing in the summer wind. 
 
 But tired with shouting sport, and mirth's excess, 
 They fling themselves, in careless loveliness, 
 Upon the green sward, and with half-shut eyes 
 They sing old rhymes and rural melodies.
 
 A SUMMER DAY 165 
 
 So may we deem, in heaven's serener clime, 
 That tender children, snatched away from time, 
 Enjoy eternity in blooming bowers, 
 And sing God's glory amid streams and flowers. 
 
 But lo ! a darkening cloud of softest rain 
 Falls, like a pearly veil, upon the plain. 
 The glittering fields rejoice in greenest hue, 
 And all the air is moistened with a dew. 
 
 With lovely strength looks forth the setting sun, 
 As one whose glorious race is nearly run ; 
 The clouds around him, by his splendour riven, 
 Glow like the golden battlements of heaven. 
 
 A universal song is in the woods, 
 A pleasant voice comes from the sylvan floods ; 
 The evening breeze is odorous and bland, 
 And starry Night beholds a quiet land. 
 
 Source of our life, and Giver of our days ! 
 Let me, at morn and eve, thy glory praise ; 
 And when these earthly years have passed away, 
 May I enjoy an endless Summer day.
 
 166 
 
 ROUEN 
 FROM SAINT CATHERINE'S HILL 
 
 IN his Notes on his Turner Drawings, exhibited at the 
 Gallery of the Fine Arts Society in 1878, Mr. Ruskin says : 
 ' Of the Seine subjects, fortune gave me the " Rouen," the 
 mightiest piece of work in my collection next to the 
 " Golden Bough." It is beyond all wonder for easy minute- 
 ness and harmony of power, perfectly true and like the 
 place ; also inestimable as a type of Turner's consummate 
 work. If any foreign master of landscape-painting, 
 hitherto unacquainted with Turner, wishes to know his 
 essential strength, let him study this simple drawing and 
 try to do something like it.' 
 
 The windings of the Seine, with its wooded island and 
 its many-arched bridges, and with the little sailing boats 
 dotted on its surface ; the pleasing foreground with its hay- 
 waggon, and the troops of visitors climbing the hill ; the 
 towers of the distant cathedral, and of St. Ouen standing 
 amidst the clustered houses ; the level country on the right 
 bank of the river, the distant hills ; and, above all, the 
 lovely sky, one of the most beautiful Turner ever painted, 
 make up a picture which the veriest tyro in art must ad- 
 mire, and we cannot wonder at the value that is put upon 
 it by its present possessor, as a work of superlative work- 
 manship.
 
 ROUEN 167 
 
 The engraving by William Miller, of Edinburgh, is one 
 of the very best of all the reproductions in black and white 
 of Turner's drawings. It first appeared in the second 
 volume of 'Turner's Annual Tour' in the year 1834, and 
 afterwards was reprinted in ' The Rivers of France.' The 
 impression before us shows how well a steel-plate, when 
 properly engraved, will last ; there is but little difference 
 in the prints after many years of wear.
 
 168 
 
 WILLIAM COLLINS, R.A. 
 BY RICHARD REDGRAVE, R.A. 
 
 WHILE it is given to but few, very few, artists to attain 
 the highest rank in art, it is an honourable end to have 
 stamped a marked individuality on any of its varied modes 
 of appealing to mankind. If the former was denied to 
 William Collins, R.A., it at least was given to him to find 
 a somewhat untrodden path in art for himself, and to make 
 the latter success his own by the way he treated his sub- 
 jects. William Collins was born in Great Titchfield Street, 
 on the 18th September, 1788. Although an Englishman 
 by birth, by parentage he was allied to each of the sister 
 kingdoms ; his mother being a native of Edinburgh, and 
 his father born at Wicklow in Ireland. The elder Collins 
 had settled in England as a writer and journalist, and to 
 these, considering them as precarious means of supporting 
 his family, he added the business of a picture-dealer. The 
 love of landscape scenery in the younger Collins might be 
 derived from both parents, born as they were in places 
 remarkable for picturesque beauty. The two sons, William 
 and Francis, moreover, were from their father's business 
 early thrown among art and artists ; and brought up in its 
 very atmosphere, what wonder that William, the elder, 
 chose it for his pursuit in life ? His first studies, we are 
 told, were from the objects around him, and these alter- 
 nated with ' copies of pictures and drawings for the small 
 patrons and dealers of the day.'
 
 WILLIAM COLLINS 169 
 
 Collins' father was intimate, among others, with George 
 Morland (an intimacy which subsequently led to his writ- 
 ing the life of that artist) ; and the son was very anxious 
 to be introduced to a man who was everywhere spoken of 
 as a wonder of erratic genius, and who had promised to 
 admit the lad to his studio, that he might at least see the 
 conduct of his pictures. It so happened that the boy's first 
 sight of the famous animal painter was at his father's 
 house, under very questionable circumstances, sleeping off, 
 in the kitchen, a fit of filthy intoxication ; this may have 
 been a lesson for our young painter, who was through 
 life a man of most correct habits. From this time 
 Collins was a visitor at Morland's painting-room as often 
 as the irregularities of that painter would permit. He 
 seems to have had a high sense of his talents, and to have 
 taken great interest in the places where he had been in 
 company with Morland when in after-life he revisited them. 
 We are told, however, that he did not consider that he 
 gained any remarkable advantage in the practical part of 
 his art from the kind of instruction which Morland was 
 able to convey ; but those who examine the works of the 
 two men will see that the early impression made by the art 
 of the eccentric painter had a marked influence on the 
 future art of Collins, and perhaps first led him to those 
 rustic subjects which he handled so skilfully, and treated 
 with a refinement which was denied to the man of gross 
 sensuality and intemperate habits. 
 
 Pursuing his desultory studies under his father's super- 
 intendence, alternately painting from a group of objects, 
 perchance jars or blacking-bottles, with his friend John 
 Linnell ; sketching from nature and copying pictures 
 spurious and original, with the advantage also of seeing the 
 rapid pencil of Morland at work to produce means to con- 
 tinue his excesses, young Collins reached his nineteenth 
 year, and was sufficiently advanced in 1807 to obtain
 
 170 WILLIAM COLLINS 
 
 admission as a student in the Royal Academy, and also 
 fortuitously to become an exhibitor on its walls. Of these 
 first pictures, ' Two Views of Millbank,' there is no record 
 further than their insertion in the catalogue. 
 
 In 1809 Collins was advanced to the life-school, and in 
 the same year his pictures, both in the Academy and in the 
 British Institution, obtained some share of public notice ; 
 and, what was even of more importance to a struggling 
 artist fighting his own way in life, they found purchasers 
 also. As years passed on, young Collins improved in his 
 art, though not rapidly ; his works had little of the richness 
 and less of the free handling he arrived at afterwards. 
 Early in the year 1812 Collins lost a father to whom he 
 seems to have been tenderly attached ; a short diary of 
 this period, preserved by his son, very touchingly paints 
 the few anxious days which preceded his death, and the 
 destitution of the family now left wholly dependent on 
 the young painter. But friends rose up to help, as they 
 mostly do for those who are true-hearted, and we find one 
 kind friend coming forward to assist them with furniture 
 in lieu of that which the creditors had laid their hands on ; 
 while another, Sir Thomas Heathcote, one of Collins' first 
 patrons, not only paid him half the price of a picture in 
 advance, but offered a loan of money in addition. From 
 this time, in young Collins' pictures, the figures were more 
 predominant than the landscape ; his subjects, mostly the 
 joys and sorrows of children, won their way in public 
 estimation, and seem to have found ready purchasers. 
 
 It shows how popular were the subjects of his choice, 
 and how true it is that the quality of colour in art is the 
 most attractive to the public ; and when joined to subjects 
 appealing, as did those of Collins, to the heart and under- 
 standing of all, is sure to win an early success. Both these 
 qualities were united in a work of this period which became 
 very widely popular, and is a representative work of the
 
 WILLIAM COLLINS 171 
 
 painter's, ' The Sale of the Pet Lamb,' which, painted in 
 1812, united very happily the best characteristics of the 
 painter's art. 
 
 The incident is one of frequent occurrence in rural 
 life, where the cade lamb, as it is called a lamb which by 
 accident has lost its dam is given away to the cottager, 
 that it may be petted into life, if possible, by the active 
 sympathy of his children : it gradually grows into their 
 young hearts as companion and playmate, until its age, or 
 some pressing need, gives it up to the usual fate of its kind. 
 In the painter's treatment of the subject, the butcher-lad 
 has come to lead away the unconscious victim ; he does his 
 duty kindly for the children's sake, although (as labouring 
 in his vocation) he is untouched by any sentiment the 
 others feel. One of the children pushes him away from 
 their playfellow, another feeds it for the last time, while a 
 girl clings to the mother, who is receiving the price of the 
 lamb, tearfully urging that it should not be taken from 
 them. This picture, with one or two others of the same 
 class, so advanced Collins in the estimation of his brother- 
 artists that in November, 1814, he was elected an associate 
 of the Royal Academy. 
 
 The painter, having obtained his first promotion in art, 
 had taken a new and larger house ; but although his works 
 were popular and many were purchased, he had still diffi- 
 culties to struggle with ; in subsequent years fortune was 
 not equally favourable, and we find an entry in his diary in 
 the spring of 1816 : 'A black-looking April day, with one 
 sixpence in my pocket, 700Z. in debt, shabby clothes, a fine 
 house, and a large stock of my own handiworks.' It must 
 be remembered that the young painter had his mother and 
 his brother at this time to provide for, that he had entered 
 upon the responsibilities of a larger establishment, and also 
 that, on looking down the list of pictures and their prices, 
 recorded in his Life, it is evident from statements in his
 
 172 WILLIAM COLLINS 
 
 diaries, that some of the pictures were not purchased at the 
 time they were painted, but afterwards, when he was grow- 
 ing still more into fame and notice. 
 
 In the troubles of this period of his life, he east about 
 for some new class of subjects to attract the attention of 
 the public, and made journeys to the sea-coast, painting 
 first at Cromer, and afterwards at Hastings, coast scenery, 
 enlivened with groups of fisher-boys, boats, fish, &c. ; these 
 he treated with great freshness and truth, and having made 
 himself a place of his own in art, he was elected a full 
 member of the academic body in February, 1820. In 
 1822, during a visit to Scotland in company with his friend 
 Wilkie, Collins completed a long-standing engagement by 
 marrying Miss Geddes, by whom he had two sons. The 
 elder has written a life of his father, full of matters of 
 interest both to artists and to the general public. 
 
 Collins was now well established, having obtained the 
 highest honours of the profession, and having in his par- 
 ticular branch of landscape art, as Wilkie told him, the 
 ball at his feet, he had but to paint as he had begun to 
 widen his popularity. There was no fear of any lack of 
 subjects in the inexhaustible field he had chosen, nor of 
 their palling on the public taste. Such subjects he con- 
 tinued to paint until the year 1836, when he produced two 
 of his very best works ' Sunday Morning,' and ' Happy 
 as a King.' This latter picture is full of life and action, 
 the landscape is broad and simple in manner, and is 
 beautifully suggestive. 
 
 Wilkie, while on the Continent, had in his letters re- 
 peatedly urged his friend to see the beauties of Italy : re- 
 counting the many subjects he would find there for his 
 pencil, and the desirableness of filling his mind with new 
 ideas ; and at length Collins made up his mind to the 
 journey, and on the 19th September, 1836, he left England 
 to spend some time in the South.
 
 WILLIAM COLLINS 173 
 
 To us who look back over his whole course and review 
 his art life, it may be permitted to doubt if the Italian 
 journey was at all beneficial to his reputation. It is true 
 that some beautiful landscapes resulted from it ; such as 
 that seen ' From the Caves of Ulysses at Sorrento, Bay of 
 Naples,' a work of great truth and beauty. But Collins 
 was essentially an English painter ; from his youth up he 
 had lived among the rustic children he loved to paint and 
 the rural scenery in which he placed them ; and although 
 Italian mendicants, priests, and lazzaroni might be a change 
 to the public, yet even at the time they were hardly 
 thought a change for the better ; while to ourselves, such 
 pictures as ' Happy as a King ' and ' Rustic Civility ' are 
 worth all the figure-pictures, the fruits of his Italian 
 journey. Nor can we forget that to the treacherous smiles 
 of an Italian sun we ultimately owed the loss of the artist. 
 While at Sorrento he could not be persuaded that it was 
 dangerous to paint out of doors in the heat of the day. 
 The temptation to do so was great ; the artist was incap- 
 able of idleness, and continued against the remonstrances 
 of his friends to work at all hours ; the result was a severe 
 attack of rheumatic fever, which lasted many weeks, and 
 left behind it a disease of the heart, which troubled him 
 during the remaining years of his life, and finally resulted 
 in his death on the 17th February, 1847.
 
 174 
 
 LET IT I A ELIZABETH LAN DON 
 
 BY WILLIAM HOWITT 
 
 (Written in 1839) 
 
 WE have, within a few years, felt some of the most 
 vivid sensations which the death of popular writers can, 
 under any circumstances, possibly create. We have not 
 forgotten the electric shock which the death of Byron, fall- 
 ing in his prime and in a noble cause, sent through Europe : 
 nor the more expected, but not less solemn and strongly 
 recognised departure of Sir Walter Scott : but neither of 
 these exceeded that with which the news was received of 
 the sudden decease of the still young and popular poetess, 
 L. E. L. The apprehensions which the climate suggested, 
 on the first tidings of her going out to Cape Coast Castle, 
 did not even abate the abrupt effect of the news of her 
 death. The mysterious circumstances attending it threw 
 a tragic horror around it, and kindled an intense eagerness 
 to penetrate their obscurity. The strange contrast between 
 the youthful and buoyant spirit of L. E. L.'s genius, and 
 the sombre tone of her views of life and human nature, 
 were not more startling and stimulant than that between 
 her popularity and her fate. 
 
 It is not our intention here to pause over this sudden 
 quenching of so lovely and brilliant a luminary, nor to 
 attempt to dissipate a single mystery which hangs over it. 
 
 The subject of L. E. L.'s first volume was love a subject
 
 LETiTIA ELIZABETH LANDON (L.E.L.) 
 By DANIEL MACUSE, R.A.
 
 LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON 175 
 
 which we might have supposed, in one so young, would 
 have been clothed in all the gay and radiant colours of hope 
 and happiness ; but, on the contrary, it was exhibited as 
 the most fatal and melancholy of human passions. With 
 the strange wayward delight of the young heart ere it has 
 known actual sorrow, she seemed to riot and revel amid 
 death and woe, laying prostrate hope, life, and affection. 
 Of all the episodical tales introduced into the general de- 
 sign of the principal poem, not one but terminated fearfully 
 or sorrowfully : the heroine herself was the fading victim 
 of crossed and wasted affections. The shorter poems which 
 filled up the volume, and which were, mostly, of extreme 
 beauty, were still based on the wrecks and agonies of 
 humanity. 
 
 It might be imagined that this morbid indulgence of 
 so strong an appetite for grief was but the first dipping of 
 the playful foot in the sunny shallows of that flood of 
 mortal experience through which all have to pass, and but 
 the dallying, yet desperate, pleasure afforded by the mingled 
 chill and glittering eddies of the waters which might here- 
 after swallow up the passer-through, and that the first real 
 pang of actual pain would scare her youthful fancy into the 
 bosom of those hopes and fascinations with which the young 
 mind is commonly only too much delighted to surround it- 
 self. But it is a singular fact that, spite of her own really 
 cheerful disposition, and spite of all the advice of her most 
 influential friends, she persisted in this tone from the first 
 to the last of her works, from that hour to the hour of her 
 lamented death. Her poems, though laid in scenes and 
 times capable of any course of events, and though filled to 
 overflowing with the splendour and gauds and high-toned 
 sentiments of chivalry, though enriched with all the colours 
 and ornaments of a most fertile and sportive fancy, were 
 still but the heralds and delineations of melancholy, mis- 
 fortune, and death. Let anyone turn to any, or all, of her
 
 176 LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON 
 
 poetical volumes, and say whether this be not so, with few, 
 and, in most of them, no exceptions. The very words of 
 her first heroine might have literally been uttered as 
 
 her own : 
 
 Sad were my shades ; methinks they had 
 
 Almost a tone of prophecy 
 I ever had from earliest youth 
 A feeling what my fate would be. 
 
 The Improvisatrice, p. 3. 
 
 This is one singular peculiarity of the poetry of L. E. L. ; 
 and her poetry must be confessed to be peculiar. It is en- 
 tirely her own. It had one prominent and fixed character, 
 and that character belonged solely to itself. The rhythm, 
 the feeling, the style and phraseology of L. E. L.'s poetry, 
 were such that you could immediately recognise it, though 
 the writer's name was not mentioned. Love was still the 
 great theme, and misfortune the great doctrine. It was 
 not the less remarkable that she retained to the last the 
 poetical tastes of her very earliest years. The themes of 
 chivalry and romance, feudal pageants and Eastern splen- 
 dour, delighted her imagination as much in the full growth 
 as in the budding of her genius. 
 
 L'ENVOI 
 
 Farewell, farewell ! Thy latest word is spoken ; 
 
 The lute thou lov'dst hath given its latest tone ; 
 Yet not without a lingering, parting token 
 
 Hast thou gone from us, young and gifted one ! 
 And what in love thou gavest, here we treasure, 
 
 Sweet words of song penned in those far-off wilds, 
 And pure and righteous thoughts, in lofty measure, 
 
 Strong as a patriot's, gentle as a child's.
 
 LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON 177 
 
 Here shrine we them, like holy relics keeping, 
 
 That they who loved thee may approach and read ; 
 May know thy latest thoughts ; may joy in weeping 
 
 That thou wast worthy to be loved indeed ! 
 Farewell, farewell ! And as thy heart could cherish, 
 
 For love, a flower, the sere leaf of a tree, 
 So from these pages shall not lightly perish 
 
 Thy latest lays memento flowers of thee ! 
 
 MAEY HOWITT. 
 
 This once celebrated poetess, the daughter of an army 
 agent, was born in London in 1802. At a very early age 
 she began to write for the magazines of the day, and when 
 the ' Annuals ' were published, she became a constant con- 
 tributor to their pages. Her most important poems are 
 ' The Improvisatrice,' ' The Troubadour,' ' The Zenana,' 
 ' The Golden Violet,' and ' The Vow of the Peacock.' She 
 also wrote a few novels, and for several years was editor of 
 ' Fisher's Drawing-room Scrap-book,' a work which had a 
 very large sale. She always wrote under, and was known 
 by, her initials, L. E. L. 
 
 In June 1838 she married Mr. George Maclean, and 
 shortly afterwards accompanied him to Cape Coast Castle 
 a wretched, unhealthy place on the west coast of Africa 
 of which Maclean was governor. In the winter of the 
 same year, her friends in London and she had very many 
 were shocked by the announcement of her death on 
 October 5, from the effects of an overdose of prussic acid ! 
 Why or by whom administered, no one of her friends ever 
 knew.
 
 178 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 MARGARET POWER, the daughter of an Irish squire of Cur- 
 ragheen, co. Waterford, was born there on September 1, 
 1789. Her father treated her very harshly, and when only 
 fifteen years of age she was glad to escape from him and 
 marry a Captain Palmer, who died in 1817. In the follow- 
 ing year she became the wife of the Earl of Blessington, 
 who, to her great delight, took her to travel on the Conti- 
 nent, where a great part of her early life was spent, and 
 where her great beauty and her intellectual gifts made her 
 distinguished in fashionable and literary society. 
 
 Unfortunately Lord Blessington died in 1829. His 
 widow then returned to London, where she was cheered by 
 the companionship of her sister Ellen, who was married to 
 Viscount Canterbury. When her affairs were put in order, 
 Lady Blessington settled at Gore House, Kensington, where 
 for fourteen years she was the leader of literary and artistic 
 society, in which she was assisted by her late husband's 
 nephew, Count D'Orsay, a portrait-artist of much merit, 
 and by her nieces, the two Misses Power. Lady Blessington 
 wrote many books that were successful : ' The Magic Lan- 
 tern,' ' The Idler in France,' ' The Idler in Italy,' ' The 
 Confessions of an Elderly Gentleman, 1 and 'The Confes- 
 sions of an Elderly Lady/ 'The Governess,' ' The Belle of a 
 Season,' and many others. But she was best known as the 
 editor of ' The Keepsake ' and ' The Book of Beauty,' for
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 179 
 
 which she enlisted the talents of all the great writers of the 
 day, including Lord Byron and Sir Walter Scott. Her 
 soirees were attended and crowded by literary men of emi- 
 nence and noted artists, and in her way she was a little 
 queen of society ; but Lady Blessington was over-ambitious 
 and much too sanguine. She had an income of 3,000?. a 
 year, but, expecting that her literary labours would make 
 up the balance, she spent over 4,000?. Mr. Charles Heath 
 died, owing her a considerable sum, and poor Lady 
 Blessington was obliged to leave her beautiful house at 
 Kensington, which had been decorated with presents from 
 her many admirers, and take refuge in Paris, where ill- 
 health and trouble soon caused her death, on June 4, 1849. 
 Count D'Orsay designed, and her friends erected, a 
 tomb to her memory in Pere la Chaise.
 
 180 
 
 THE RIVER LOIRE AND THE CITY 
 OF TOURS 
 
 BY J. C. 
 
 THE Loire, one of the largest, is perhaps the most beautiful 
 of the rivers of France. Unlike the swiftly-flowing and 
 tumultuous Rhone, the Loire, from its source in the Cevennes 
 Mountains in the far-distant department of Ardeche, flows 
 tranquilly through half France, passing the towns of Nevers, 
 Orleans, Blois, Tours, Angers, and Nantes ; with numerous 
 chateaux and villages upon its banks, which are so richly 
 covered with vineyards, orchards, and cornfields that parts 
 of this country have for ages been known as the ' Garden 
 of France.' After receiving many tributaries, the chief 
 of which are the Allier and Vienne, this majestic river 
 reaches the Bay of Biscay, 600 miles from its source. At 
 times it overflows its banks and causes much destruction, 
 and after a hot and rainless summer the bed of the stream 
 becomes very narrow and is covered with numerous islets 
 and sand banks. 
 
 At Tours it is very wide, and is spanned by a magnifi- 
 cent bridge of fifteen arches. This city is a favourite 
 resort of English people, who find it more economical to 
 live there than at home. The cathedral is a very fine 
 building, with a noble stained-glass window and a beauti- 
 fully carved marble monument to the two children of 
 Charles VIII. and Anne of Brittany. The other important 
 Buildings are modern, for the city was wrecked at the time
 
 THE RIVER LOIRE AND THE CITY OF TOURS 181 
 
 of the Revolution, when the tine old Church of St. Martin 
 of Tours, except the tower, was also destroyed. One of the 
 chief places of interest is the establishment of Messrs- 
 Mame, the celebrated printers and publishers of missals 
 and school books for the Church. Very different is it in 
 its surroundings to the places of business of the London 
 printers. We enter through a gateway into an imposing 
 quadrangle, in the middle of which is a fountain constantly 
 playing ; round the paved courtyard are large boxes filled 
 with oleanders and orange-trees, and the general air of 
 peace and quietness strikes the visitor. The interior of 
 the building corresponds : everything is arranged with the 
 greatest care, and one envies even the clerks in the count- 
 ing-house of this model workshop. 
 
 The drawing from which Mr. R. Wallis made the 
 accompanying charming engraving was one of the series pro- 
 duced in 'Turner's Annual Tour ' in 1832, when the great 
 painter, with Mr. Leitch Ritchie as a companion, visited the 
 principal cities on the Loire. 
 
 PRINTED BY 
 
 SPOTT1SWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE 
 LONDON