L I B I^ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS
 
 (J 
 
 
 ^ 

 
 JESSIE OF BOULOGNE; 
 
 OR THE 
 
 HISTORY OF A FEW MINUTES. 
 
 BY THE 
 
 REV. C. GILLMOR, M.A. 
 
 •'They sin who tell us Love can die."— Southey. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES, 
 Vol. I. 
 
 SAMUEL TINSLEY, 
 
 10, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 
 
 1877. 
 \_All Rights Reserved.^
 
 
 6-^/7^' 
 
 •o 
 
 -J 
 
 ^ 
 
 4 
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 l^ " There is one Mind, one omnipresent Mind, 
 
 Omnific ; His most holy name is Love. 
 Truth of subliming imj)ort ! with the which 
 Who feels and saturates his constant soul. 
 He from his small particular orbit flies, 
 With blest outstarting ; from himself he flies, 
 Stands in the sun, and with no partial gaze 
 Views all creation : and he loves it all. 
 And blesses it, and calls it very good." 
 
 V> COLKRIDGE.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. CYRIL 1 
 
 II. BOULOGNE . 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 18 
 
 III. TEDDY 
 
 
 
 
 . ^8 
 
 IV. FLOSS 
 
 
 
 
 . 58 
 
 V. JESSIE 
 
 
 
 
 . 81 
 
 VI. THE ACTRESS 
 
 
 
 
 . 106 
 
 VIL GALLANTRY 
 
 
 
 
 . 126 
 
 VIIL GONE ASTRAY 
 
 
 
 
 . 152 
 
 IX. FRENCH BED 
 
 
 
 
 . 179 
 
 X. ZONE. 
 
 
 
 
 . 202 
 
 XL REMOVED . 
 
 
 
 
 . 222 
 
 XII. LOST 
 
 
 
 
 . 247
 
 JESSIE OE BOULOGNE 
 
 ♦ '•'♦ 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CYRIL. 
 
 *' For a day is coining to quell the tone 
 That rings in thy laughter, thou joyous one ; 
 And to dim thy brow with a touch of care, 
 Under the gloss of its clustering hair." 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 An ordinary observer would perhaps have said, that 
 Cyril Grrosvenor had lived more than his twenty- 
 three summers ; because the outside world came in 
 contact with more thoughtfulness in him, than is 
 usually to be found in young men of that age. Still, 
 there was much liveliness and even joyousness in his 
 character. In him, an air of deep intelligence 
 seemed naturally to combine with every element 
 of manly beauty ; and there was cheerfulness also, 
 to impart its zest : so that the genial transitions of 
 temperament may perhaps be best drawn for him by 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 the smart little poet Pope, who bids us aspire to 
 range " From grave to gay, from lively to severe." 
 
 Cyril was not one of those young men, who, sim- 
 ply because they are religious, always affect to wear 
 an aspect of solemnity and studied gloom. Such 
 fanatical long faces do a great deal of harm to the 
 cause of truth. There is no reason why a person 
 may not be well-disposed, and also simultaneously 
 merry and Hght-hearted. There is no discrepancy 
 between a ready smile at one time, and a reverence 
 for religion at all times. Nor is there any contra- 
 diction between genuine piety enshrined in the 
 inmost recesses of the heart, and a sunny gladsome 
 mode of going forth to meet mankind. 
 
 It may indeed be doubted whether there can be 
 much true godliness in those grim puritans, who 
 along with their high sanctimonious pretensions, 
 offer only a sour, sullen, and morose front to all 
 comers. The repulsive demeanor of such ghastly 
 good scarecrows, is sadly calculated to make the 
 religion which they caricature, be simply odious in 
 the eyes of the unreflecting. 
 
 It always seems to me that those gloomy reli- 
 gionists, who think there neither can be, nor ought 
 to be, such a thing as a Sunday tale or good sound 
 novel, are singularly untrue to Nature. Nature is 
 beautiful ; and, the Grod of Nature is also the God of 
 Scripture. So, those dark and bilious pietists who 
 plume themselves on being supereminently scriptural, 
 are all the while peculiarly in conflict with that book 
 of beauty, the Bible, which is all clothed in loveli-
 
 Cyril. 3 
 
 ness, just as Nature is. Why should Nature be so 
 arrayed in every charm, with a bright blue canopy 
 above us, and a rich green carpet beneath our feet, 
 if we, in the middle of such splendors, are to be 
 only lowering, growling, and melancholic ? The very 
 wild flowers, pink, white, and azure, along our 
 path, seem to rebuke, and refute, the black-souled 
 frowners. 
 
 With respect indeed to the charms and wonders of 
 Nature, many men are too discontented to be pro- 
 perly observant. Their murmuring mood seems only 
 capable of eliciting from them the growl of Ancient 
 Pistol, " I eat, and eke I swear." Such is the rea 
 translated "cuss" of those who think it a sia to 
 smile. They are worse than those who are simply 
 inattentive. It is worse for men to needlessly hiss 
 at their work, like ostlers ; than, like idle urchins, to 
 exemplify Dryden's sarcasm about the churl who 
 '^ whistled as he went, for want of thought." It is 
 true, there are many who never, even when in good 
 temper, give any higher symptom of sagacity than 
 may be found in the celebrated " loud laugh " which 
 has been immortalized by Goldsmith as indicating 
 " the vacant mind." But still, what is wanted is, a 
 reasonable tone of cheerfulness, along with a judi- 
 cious estimate of the state of things around us. 
 Though we know but little, we may know at least 
 this, that we ought to be thankful. This, surely, we 
 can trace, even though we only "know in part." 
 Nature is like a book which God has written ; and our 
 little lore, respecting it, is only as if we saw a father
 
 4 Jessie or Bouwgne, 
 
 writing an important work, when his dear little son, 
 who has only arrived at months of discretion, comes be- 
 side him, and playfully turns over some of the written 
 leaves, having very little idea what the book is 
 really about, even when it is explained by the author. 
 And then, if the fond father takes his little son on his 
 knee, and points out to him some of the more pro- 
 minent initial letters, that one letter is A, and another 
 is B, getting the little man perhaps to go so far as to 
 spell out a short word or two ; this resembles the 
 researches of the chiefest children of science, com- 
 pared with the mighty stores of latent truth. Every 
 such lesson is an increase of wisdom. And therefore 
 it may well be in a cheerful spirit that we seek to go 
 on and prosper, dipping reverently into those glad 
 founts of Nature's glories, which emancipate the 
 mind equally from corroding cares, and from 
 depressing darkness. 
 
 It may then be very true, that (as we are sure to 
 be told by very serious people,) a mere lust for 
 foolish talking and jesting is one of the vices of 
 the day. In some men, the eternal tendency to 
 stale jokes and senseless glee, is little better than 
 the leers and o^rins of a confirmed imbecile. Such 
 people are always laughing and cackling, they are 
 always bursting with merriment, and it is all fatuous; 
 nor have they ever any serious thoughts. 
 
 But Cyril Grrosvenor, without degenerating into 
 folly or levity, was often foremost in fun, and usually 
 buoyant in spirits ; nor did he the less display at 
 suitable seasons all that yearning after wisdom which
 
 CyriL 5 
 
 best befits an immortal soul. His Christianity was 
 always at the helm of his career ; and thus he gave 
 a most attractive exemplification of that somewhat 
 rare character, a cheerful Christian. 
 
 At present, a degree of perplexity seemed to 
 gather on his brow. It was however no more than 
 a passing indecision with reference to the course he 
 had best pursue. There was nothing in his position 
 to minister to anxiety or depression. In fact, For- 
 tune seemed in many respects to shower upon him 
 her choicest gifts. Blessed with health and strength, 
 and friends and wealth, he was master of his own 
 actions, and he possessed to the full all that is implied 
 in the thrilling word Liberty ; and the fact thafr^ his 
 heart had hitherto remained unshackled by devotion 
 to any fair one, might seem to crown the climax 
 that would take him as the very impersonation of the 
 bliss of freedom. 
 
 And yet there were some bitter ingredients which 
 had already mingled in his cup. 
 
 He had neither brother nor sister surviving ; and, 
 eight years ago, he had lost both his parents. They 
 had died within a day of each other ; so that the 
 shock had fallen on him with great intensity of 
 anguish. Fondly were their memories revered, as 
 was due to a noble-hearted father, and a sweet afifec- 
 tionate mother ; and often did the sorrow for their 
 removal still cast a pang across his path. 
 
 During the six years of his minority, the resources 
 of his princely family estate had largely accumulated, 
 under the prudent management of honorable guar-
 
 6 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 dians ; so that now he found himself with a mag- 
 nificent rent-roll, and also with a vast amount of 
 ready money at his command. He had lately com- 
 pleted his studies at Cambridge ; and the world was 
 all before him where to choose ! as Milton says of 
 Adam : only at present there was no Eve. 
 
 In the course of the two years since all his pro- 
 perty came to his disposal, he devoted his time to 
 acquiring a knowledge of his native land, exploring 
 ^11 the matchless scenes of Scotland, the Lakes, and 
 Wales : whence he proceeded to Ireland, and was 
 much charmed with the varied scenery of that lovely 
 isle. He even treated himself to a rapid run through 
 Canada and the " United " or very nearly Un-tied 
 States ; returning from which, with the impulse of 
 travel still upon him, he felt a strong desire to visit 
 India and Australia : he even had a theory about 
 Ceylon, that it was a beautiful sleepy body, that 
 wanted to be roused, roughly, and almost punched 
 into having a soul. (Theories are bad things.) Such 
 a boundless desire for voyage and travel and explor- 
 ing, is often a feature in intellectual young men who 
 are fancy-free. Indeed, it may be doubted whether 
 any high spirited youths are ever devoid of the desire, 
 though it may often be checked by prudence, thwarted 
 by engagements or duties, or more often extinguished 
 by insufficient means ; for, to travel is an expensive 
 amusement. 
 
 But, in Cyril's case, there was all the due freedom 
 with all the requisite wealth. He had in previous 
 vears, before the close of his minority, gone through
 
 Cyril. 7 
 
 the usual tutorial pilgrimages to Norway, the Rhine, 
 the Pyrenees, and Algiers. But now he planned 
 some mightier excursions, among which the names of 
 China, Thibet, and the Caucasus were rather strongly 
 pronounced. His first design had been to start across 
 Europe and Asia, and reach India and Ceylon, and 
 thence proceed to Australia, and so home by sea. In 
 part pursuance of this project, he had come to the 
 Continent. 
 
 But, on reconsideration of his purposed route, h^^ 
 felt it would perhaps be preferable for him to reverse 
 his plan ; and that it would be wiser, to go out b}' 
 sea, and work his way home by land. One advantage 
 would thus be, that during the voyage out, he could 
 brush up his knowledge of one or two languages 
 which would be useful in the wild tracts he meant to 
 visit. Besides, as the sea would not be to him ex- 
 hausting, but rather exhilarating and invigorating, 
 he would thus enter fresh, upon the more arduous 
 part of his work ; and thus he should be able to 
 address himself to his real object with all his fullest 
 energies. 
 
 In short, he now saw, like as many a man does 
 after he has made a start (and some see it in vain all 
 their lives !) that he had best alter his course, at 
 once, and amend his goings. 
 
 This inversion of procedure brought him back from 
 Paris to the coast of France ; and at present we find 
 him at Boulogne, slightly undecided whether he was 
 right after all ? for, we all know, our own best logic 
 sometimes fails to convince ourselves, nor are the
 
 8 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 best of us at times exempt from a very contradictory 
 recurrence to our own discarded resolves. 
 
 In this little perplexity, where plainly a friend's 
 intervention was needed, Cyril thought he had best 
 consult his college friend and loved associate, George 
 Thornton. This idea soon branched into the question, 
 whether George might not, after all, like to join him 
 in his projected wanderings ? It is true, Cyril had, 
 by very particular self-persuasions, already made up 
 his mind to the fate of going alone ; but, man being 
 a gregarious animal, Cyril was now free to confess 
 that he felt, at last, a desperate gulp or qualm, at 
 the thought of diving into the most desolate regions, 
 without any companion except some dragoman whom 
 he miaht hire. 
 
 o 
 
 Then again, on the other side, George might not 
 like to set out on so protracted an enterprise, all Qf 
 a sudden, with scarce any warning ? On the perils 
 indeed of such suddenness of decision, Cyril laid 
 little stress ; for, it is the fact, that very often those 
 things which are quite unpremeditated, are repeatedly 
 the identical matters which answer best and satisfy us 
 most. Not that I would glorify Hap-hazard or rash 
 Imprudence ; but still, it is the sheer truth, that 
 some of men's most highly elaborated courses, are 
 those which fail the most egregiously : they please 
 the least, and work the worst : because, in them, 
 human pride rests on itself, as if it was competent to 
 shape its own ends, impiously ignoring any supreme 
 Disposer of events. 
 
 Cyril's friend George was the only son of General
 
 CyriL g 
 
 Sir William Thornton, G.C.B. ; and the two young 
 men had been mutually drawn together by similarity 
 of tastes and pursuits. There was only a difference 
 of three days between their ages; and in the intervals 
 between Cyril's longer journeys, he had always de- 
 lighted in the companionship of George, who had 
 shared with him the pains and pleasures of his visits 
 to the Rhine and Naples and some of his shorter 
 pilgrimages. 
 
 In consequence of certain diplomatic appointments 
 which Sir William undertook, it so happened that 
 Cyril Grosvenor had never met the General or Lady 
 Thornton ; and hence Cyril felt a proportionate 
 degree of doubt whether such loving parents would 
 be willing that their only son should expatriate him- 
 self for so long a while, to brave the dangers of the 
 orient. Cyril had acquainted George already by 
 letter, that he intended to make a protracted tour in 
 the far east ; he couched this intimation in general 
 terms, nor did he then directly ask George to join 
 him, since George was then (or at least had been 
 lately) in attendance on his father, at a foreign 
 court : and with true delicacy and gentlemanly 
 instinct Cyril would not even seem to draw his 
 friend aside from his filial duties, because reverence 
 for a parent ranked at the right place in his deca- 
 logue. 
 
 But, Cyril, while making some monetary arrange- 
 ments in Paris, " chanced," as the world calls it (for, 
 the world really believes only in the god Chance 
 Accident and Luck) to see a paragraph in a foreign
 
 I o Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 newspaper, which stated that owing to some minis- 
 terial changes, which were very vaguely explained, 
 Sir William Thornton and family had come or were 
 coming from Dresden to London ; and it was even 
 supposed that his Excellency had retired from official 
 Hfe. 
 
 No sooner did Cyril happen to see this, than the 
 eager thought arose anew, " that I could have my 
 friend of friends, to go w4th me ! and now there is no 
 reason why I should shrink from inviting him and 
 urging him to join my expedition." 
 
 The Thorntons were very wealthy ; and their only 
 son George had every advantage lavished upon him, 
 among which may specially be enumerated that costly 
 luxury, a superb yacht, the ' Amaranth.' 
 
 No sooner thus had the idea of George's freedom, 
 and the remembrance of this beautiful vessel, occurred 
 together to Cyril, than he resolved that, if possible, 
 the voyage should be made by him and George to 
 India in the ^Amaranth.' 
 
 Full of this idea, and revolving it in all its bear- 
 ings, Cyril paced up and down the pretty curving 
 pier at Boulogne ; till soon he went home to his 
 hotel, and feeling that the danger of delay made it 
 be a work of " necessity " if not of " mercy " to write 
 at once, he indited a very demonstrative letter to 
 George, dated on this Sunday, August 31, explaining 
 all to him. 
 
 The simplest expedient of course would be, for 
 Cyril to hurry to England, and see George, and 
 discuss the subject by word of mouth. But then,
 
 Cyril. 1 1 
 
 some expressions which George had dropped in a 
 recent letter of his, had intimated, that he also was 
 shaping a grand excursion ; and this made Cyril fear 
 whether he should meet his friend, if he now went 
 after him : and on the whole, Cyril naturally felt 
 that it would be better for his letter to go astray, 
 than for himself to do so. He was, in fact, not even 
 certain that Greorge had yet returned to England. 
 
 Besides, Cyril had a feeling which he could scarce 
 have described or even confessed, but which never- 
 theless hung about his heart ; and it made him 
 shrink from taking the Thorntons by storm, just 
 then. The feeling was not an unusual one, and it 
 may be classed among the timidities of courtesy,; 
 caused sometimes, as such a feeling is, by the mere 
 lapse of time, sometimes by the absentee sins of 
 acquaintanceship, and sometimes by the byelaws of 
 ^* Society," who is a horrible old ogre in its way. 
 Many a young man, brave as a lion, would rather 
 face a battery, than ascend the steps of a house 
 which seems to him barricaded by a phalanx of 
 superstitious conventionalisms. Possibly this inde- 
 finite sentiment may often have more to do, than 
 some think, with the creation of many a needless 
 suspicion, degenerating into an air of ever-increasing 
 estrangement. 
 
 Cyril Grosvenor indeed knew that he was loved 
 and liked by the Thorntons ; notwithstanding, he 
 hung back, and avoided any formal introduction '^ to 
 the family," nor did he want to present himself 
 before them, just now, if ever.
 
 1 2 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 Perhaps, if he had been pressed for a tangible 
 reason, he could or would not have vouchsafed more 
 than that he did not wish the high ideal standard, at 
 which he was aware he was rated, to be brought 
 down to what he would too modestly describe as the 
 ignoble measure of his real predicaments. Smile 
 though he might thus, the stand-off had become a 
 habit ; and some habits, the older they grow, are the 
 less likely to be cast off, like garments. 
 
 His case was the not uncommon one which arises 
 where two families hold each other in high esteem, 
 without having had the opportunity to see much of 
 each other. In General Thornton's small home 
 circle, Cyril Grosvenor was a synonym for all that 
 was deemed noble and amiable, because George was 
 always raving about him to this tune ; moreover, the 
 Thorntons were predisposed towards this favourable 
 estimate, because there had been more domestic inti- 
 macy between the old people than between the young 
 ones. Cyril's and George's parents had been fond 
 associates in their youth ; the mothers, though but 
 distantly related, had lived together as chosen sisters, 
 under the same roof, till their marriages, which took 
 place on the same day, abroad : and the fathers had 
 lived all their younger years together in the same 
 halls. 
 
 But the death of the Grosvenor s, and the dignified 
 exile of the Thorntons, made the amity of the fami- 
 lies have a good deal of traditionary guise about 
 it. 
 
 As for Cyril, the Thorntons were with him as if a
 
 Cyril. 1 3 
 
 latent term for perfection, as unapproachable as the 
 evening star ; nor was his admiration of their quali- 
 ties lessened by the fact that he had seen none 
 of them but his friend George, and him only at 
 intervals. 
 
 Nor did George speak about his home, lest the 
 griefs of his orphaned friend might be reopened ; 
 and the delicacy of this silence, though not acknow- 
 ledged or referred to, was felt and appreciated by 
 Cyril, who all the more esteemed his friend for it, 
 and felt the truth of the sacred description, " thy 
 friend, which is as thine own soul." 
 
 This sort of genuine friendship is somewhat rare ; 
 there may be many an Orestes and Pylades, and 
 many a Nisus and Euryalus, and yet not many a 
 David and Jonathan. Religion is the only firm 
 bond of friendship ; though, indeed, many " reli- 
 gious " people have no friends at all : but then, have 
 they any religion? How can I love a " good " man 
 who only scowls at me ? 
 
 One sadly uncomfortable and prosaic item in this 
 question is, that friendship is very much dependent 
 upon the mutual balances at one's bankers. We 
 have it on the authority of the pitiless adage, con- 
 cerning connubial bliss, that when poverty comes in 
 at the door, love flies out at the window. So also we 
 are assured by a still uglier maxim, that the true 
 definition of a friend, is simply, one who will not 
 borrow money. 
 
 Alas for the romance of the thing, alas for the 
 poetry of Hfe (whatever that may mean), there is too
 
 14 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 mucli truth in the proverbial connection between 
 friendship and cash. Of course there may be, and 
 are, many friendships, between downright poor men ; 
 but possibly they have had it tacitly established long 
 ago, that there is nothing which they could borrow 
 one of the other : and this comes to the same thing. 
 
 However this may be, there was not anything 
 which either George or Cyril wanted of the other, 
 except pure voluntary companionship, and the loving 
 communion of two quite kindred souls. 
 
 On the whole, after pondering well over l^he entire 
 complexion of matters, it seemed best for Cyril to 
 disregard a little delay, and to write as he did 
 to Greorge, in order to discover whether he was 
 available. And at the worst, our hero could rove 
 away to the east, after all, without any crony, if so 
 it must be. 
 
 Cyril told his friend that should the voyage appear 
 at the first blush to touch his fancy, he would meet 
 him in London or anywhere, and make all arrange- 
 ments for a delightful dash " Over the water and over 
 the brine." 
 
 But if, as we have said, Cyril was not in love 
 with any pretty girl, it is not to be inferred from 
 this that there was in him any misogynist tendency, 
 or any lack of chivalry, gallantry, or ladylove-ishness. 
 As for George, he had been in love more than once ; 
 nor did Cyril say much to George on the subject, as 
 George was rather sore, or at least romantic about it: 
 nor did Cyril think that disappointments of heart 
 are of course fit matters for unfeeling gibes.
 
 CyriL 1 5 
 
 In fact, the putting together of the materials, out 
 of which Cyril's great heart was built up, predis- 
 posed him to be very summarily the slave of woman, 
 whenever the fated lass should appear. So, Cyril's 
 love was only a thing to come. 
 
 And the difference between George and Cyril 
 would be this, that whereas George's loves were 
 somewhat multifarious, so were they rather evanes- 
 cent ; but, Cyril's would be one love, and that, 
 eternal. 
 
 Nor do I see why, if I thus set up to be a philo- 
 sopher of Love, I may not be as good and respect- 
 able a philosopher as any of the other philosophers 
 going. One fellow is a weather sage, and he studies 
 the clouds, the air, and all meteorological changes, 
 with all the perseverance of a weathercock. Another 
 will drink in the science of water, and all its wonders 
 whether seen in seas, rivers, cataracts, or waterspouts^ 
 pumps, fire-engines, or hydraulic presses ; and as 
 water always finds its own level, so must the water 
 philosopher, whether he be a teetotaler, or only a 
 Commissioner of Sewers, or both, though I do not 
 know anyone who is both, doubtless because from 
 fellow-feeling the Commissioner of Sewers always 
 loves a drain. Why then may not I be a philosopher 
 of love, and take my "legis legumque doctor" degree 
 in it, LL.D., Double Doctor of Loves, the loves of 
 two hearts? How can Weather or Water, not to 
 say Fossils or Soyer's Cookery, compare with the 
 human Heart, when the very being is worked and 
 thrilled with the most paramount and exquisite emo-
 
 1 6 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 tions ? I seek therefore to portray some of the 
 thoughts that burn, in the hearts, of two tried and 
 unadulterated lovers. 
 
 If then you want to know the object of the book in 
 hand, I will expound to you that it is, to glorify pure 
 love. My philosophical position is, that the love 
 between the sexes is not only of great importance, 
 but also it is intrinsically a holy and an ennobling 
 impulse ; nor need it ever be base, selfish, or impure. 
 Love is the completion of Human Nature ; and, to 
 sneer at love, or to sidle round the question of love, 
 is downright stupid, as well as utterly unpractical. 
 Love should be judged as it springs in two fresh 
 young hearts, where the master-passion swells of its 
 own accord ; rising for the first time, in the young 
 man and the maiden, considered simply as two human 
 beings, and free from any adventitious incidents of 
 rank, family, or fortune. Their love may be perfect, 
 as we shall see, even though they do not know each 
 other's names. 
 
 Look at such Love ; I say it is as generous as the 
 young man's warm devotion, and as chaste as the 
 maiden's guileless breast. 
 
 I believe. Love in its excellence is connected with 
 every sentiment that is genial, gracious, and benefi- 
 cent. Therewith is linked every motive that is 
 ingenuous and honorable ; thence flows every legi- 
 timate aspiration to excel : while delicacy and a due 
 regard for the feelings of others, are made to be the 
 very pulses of the being. 
 
 Apparent slights or repulses cannot extinguish
 
 Cyril, I y 
 
 true love ; it is cherished despite every test of time 
 or distance : and at last when it gains its goal, in the 
 marriage of souls, there is begun, the blissful union, 
 which is the one joy of life, and ^vhich is to last for 
 ever in our Heavenly Father's home, among the 
 bright mansions of eternal love. 
 
 Vol. I.
 
 1 8 Jessie of Boulogne^ 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 BOULOGNE. 
 
 ** In vain with lavish kindness 
 The gifts of God are shown ; 
 The heathen in his blindness 
 Bows down to wood and stone." 
 
 Bp. Hebee. 
 
 The letter being written and despatched, Cyril saun- 
 tered out next morning about the place, and soon 
 came to the conclusion that, compared with any other 
 small town of forty thousand inhabitants or there- 
 abouts, Boulogne-sur-Mer, which ranks in size as 
 number thirty-five among the cities of France, is one 
 of the most agreeable residences imaginable. Being 
 built chiefly on the slopes of a hill, there is a very 
 good fall, whence the well-paved streets are singu- 
 larly clean, and the spot most healthy. The ram- 
 parts, fifty feet high, built in 1231, are rather quaint 
 and grim and dull, like any other obsolete engine of 
 war, such as cross-bows or coats of mail ; still, like 
 the old armor in one's hall, the frowning castel- 
 lated walls give an air of grandeur, the dignity of 
 antiquity : and the top of the ramparts offers a fine 
 broad step-out place, with a most commanding view,
 
 Boulogne. 1 9 
 
 making this promenade be quite the Constitution 
 Hill of the place. " Here," as the topographical men 
 say (I hate that unavoidable " Here ") ''Here are to 
 be found all the moderately dyspeptic and valetudi- 
 narian celebrities of the town, very dingily attired ; 
 and also all the bold robust walkers, emphatically 
 Walkers^ who prance round and round a set number 
 of times, to keep down the fat. What leads up to 
 these ramparts, is the chief street of Boulogne, the 
 celebrated Grrande Rue, whose glory is built on its 
 own name " Grande,'' which the British public inter- 
 pret not as big but as superb ; connecting it also in 
 some occult way with their own " Great " Britain. 
 Apart from such delusions, the street would not have, 
 been so renowned ; it would not have been so noted, 
 if it had been called Bouledogue Street or Rue Gout- 
 terre : however, it is superior to either the Milsom 
 Street of Bath or the Bold Street of Liverpool. 
 There is a very fine Museum ; and a public Library 
 unusually rich for a provincial town. 
 
 The quays are a never-failing source of amuse- 
 ment ; indeed, a very entertaining aspect is given to 
 the scene by the picturesque fishermen, and their 
 masters, that is to say, their wives, the redoubtable 
 fishwomen, who have quite the upper hand of their 
 husbands. These women do all the porter's work at 
 the packet wharf, lifting out and carting, or else 
 actually carrying on their backs, immense boxes and 
 the weightiest luggage ; their remuneration being 
 settled with their own Queen bee, the Semiramis of 
 the fish-fags, an ugly flabby old harridan, who lays
 
 20 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 down the law in a white cap, for them and for you. 
 Though the work looks rather hard to be done by 
 females, they seem to like it ; and certainly there 
 would be a pretty " shindy " if anyone tried to take 
 it from them. In fact, the principle of giving em- 
 ployment to meritorious industrious women, is highly 
 praiseworthy, and might, unlike brandy, be imported 
 with advantage to England from France, by good 
 old stiff stubborn John Bull, who might condescend 
 to learn a few things even from the land of snails 
 and frogs. 
 
 As Cyril roved about, he could not help being 
 struck, with what he had often observed before, that 
 there is much more grace and courtesy amongst the 
 French working people, than you would ever meet 
 with in the corresponding class of English towns- 
 people. The English " boors," the rustics of Herts 
 and Buckinghamshire and so on, are anything but 
 boorish, being usually civil and good-natured. But 
 the reverse is the rule in English towns ; the worst 
 is Sheffield, which hideous spot is one of the most in- 
 fidel and deistical dens on earth, and consequently it 
 is the most truculent, since scepticism and ferocity 
 always go together : and, *^by the same token," 
 Sheffield is the scene of trade outrages, where ob- 
 noxious artisans are blown up with gunpowder by. 
 their " brethren.' 
 
 Who would ever expect to be treated with civility 
 by the rabble of Yarmouth or Ipswich ? How rude 
 and brutal and beery and blaspheming, are the 
 operatives and low denizens of the slums of
 
 Boulogne, 2 1 
 
 Brighton or Margate. On the contrary, how kindly 
 and polite are the " lower orders " of Boulogne or 
 Bordeaux. Occasionally you see a drunken French- 
 man ; but, such a sight is rare : whereas the working 
 classes, through their whole strata, in London and 
 large English towns, are thoroughly saturated with 
 the poison of drink. The superior comfort of the 
 French towii-cottager, is simply attributable to the 
 Frenchman's superior sobriety. 
 
 The Frenchman himself, as an animal, zoologically 
 considered, is much inferior to the stalwart Briton. 
 There are but few exceptions to the one wide fact, 
 that when you see a French man^ you see an ugly 
 little monkey. 
 
 There is no such deficiency of beauty in the French 
 women. The Boulogne-esses are generally hand- 
 some. The woman who sells those potatoes is 
 decidedly good-looking ; the modest maiden, over 
 there, who is vending (goat and donkey) milk, is posi- 
 tively pretty. Is this because they work so hard ? 
 Doubtless it is exercise which develops their forms, 
 and makes the hens so much finer than the cocks. 
 Now, stop and look at those two girls, or follow them 
 now while they trot on before you ; they turn back 
 to glance at you with unaffected unstaring curiosity. 
 They are obviously sisters ; one is about nine, the 
 other fourteen or so. How elegant and sprightly 
 do they look, with such a juicy gentle air, with 
 such fringy beamy eyes, and such a buoyancy of 
 motion ; they are doubtless the daughters of one of 
 the humblest workmen : yet how much more lady
 
 2 2 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 like are they, than any fat scions of the rich grocer 
 of Bristol or the stout ^' stout "-drinking bloated 
 bloater-merchant of Harwich ['arridge] . 
 
 On the other hand, the " old '^ Frenchwomen are 
 mostly very ill-favoured ; sere, yellow, and puckered? 
 like old apples. They are old when they are only 
 middle-aged. Still, the oldness may explain the ugli- 
 ness. However, whether young or old, the common 
 Frenchman, with scarce an exception, is painfully 
 repulsive. With a pinched cast of features, goatee 
 beard, poor carcase, and visage of a yellowish brown, 
 as if steeped in tobacco, giving him (as tobacco 
 always does) the "hue cadaverous of a mouldy 
 toad " ; the ordinary Frenchman is an uncommonly 
 ordinary mortal. It is true, ugly creature as he is, 
 he manages to do everything with a degree of gentility 
 and polish. Look at that man in his little garden, 
 raking up the remains of his onion stalks ; every 
 stretch and fetch of his arms would seem to be 
 actuated by an inward swagger of heart : he throws 
 a sort of military air and strut, into the most every- 
 day actions. And the ironmonger's journeyman, 
 hastening through the rain with a "mended" pip- 
 kin, runs with the slow plopping swing of the 
 French military long-trot ; as if it was a remini- 
 scence, of the days when he went soldiering, a long 
 time ago. 
 
 Even the waiter at the Hotel d 'Andante, a withered 
 old boy of fifty-four, a literal boy all but the shrivel, 
 comes into your presence with a finical little suavity, 
 which may have to be paid for in the bill, or it may
 
 Boulogne. 23 
 
 be mere chivalric nervousness ; but it certainly has 
 a winning welcoming flavor, well worth a franc a 
 day. 
 
 " Yes," said Cyril, laughing to himself, " I noticed 
 that as the waiter bustled into the room at the time 
 when he evidently thought I surely must have 
 finished my meal, but over which I was loitering 
 with a newspaper ; he contrived to circulate through 
 the furniture, and coming near me, he saw I was 
 undeniably far behind as regards the deglutitory 
 process, so he dexterously went up and wiped ofl* 
 with his napkin some imaginary crumbs from a 
 faultless tablecloth, as if this was what he came for : 
 and so he beat a retreat, covered with ^ glory.' That 
 little patient feat, of giving a wipe where it was not 
 needed, was an instinct of civiKty and deference, 
 which may be favorably contrasted with the manner 
 in which a solemn doctor-of-divinity of an English 
 waiter would have broadly looked, if not more 
 broadly said, ^ Bent yer done yet ? ' The little 
 Frenchman's instinctive tone evinced as true an 
 innate spirit of politeness, as did it manifest a nice 
 little stroke of social generalship. 
 
 " But I protest," said Cyril merrily, " now that I 
 am noticing the amenities or elegancies of French- 
 men, the ugliest sight in France is the French 
 soldier. Like as the French policemen, as human 
 specimens, are ludicrously inferior to the grand big 
 bobbies of the English police, the British ^peeler' 
 being always so portly, clean, tidy, dapper, and 
 well-fed ; so also the common French soldier is per-
 
 24 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 fectly hideouSj wlien compared with any linesman of 
 any English regiment." 
 
 No doubt, the immense standing army of the 
 French empire is too expensive for much money 
 to be spent on adornment ; but this is no excuse for 
 the men being individually so ugly. 
 
 As to the Zouaves, they are very gallant and very 
 brave ; as a Frenchman said to me, drawing a rather 
 hyperbolical case. " If," quoth he, " five hundred 
 Zouaves were ordered to take a fort, and if four 
 hundred and ninety-nine were killed, still, the five- 
 hundredth man would rush on, and take the place " 
 (with glory, etc.). Notwithstanding, brave as they 
 are, if considered merely as objects to look at, the 
 Zouaves are outrageously ungainly, and may 
 positively be pronounced to be the most tasteless- 
 looking savages that can be seen on the face of the 
 earth. 
 
 Our English soldiers have indeed not been im- 
 proved in appearance, by the German influence 
 which has shortened their skirts and dressed them in 
 Austrian coatees ; but still they are paragons when 
 contrasted with the uncouthest of all earthly objects, 
 the French soldiers. 
 
 I was lately jambed in an omnibus at Kensington, 
 waiting for a regiment of first-rate English troops to 
 march past ; they were splashed, in a dirty day, and 
 they were only in shell-jacket undress. Still they 
 looked the most magnificent samples of humanity 
 that could be imagined ; I had leisure to note that 
 whole dozens of them were sheer Adonises, with not
 
 Boulogne. 25 
 
 only such tall splendid figures and matchless forms, 
 but also with such " loves " of faces : the whole thino- 
 was a march of beauty. Such were my meditations 
 on English soldiers in the mud. 
 
 But, now, stop and look at this French sentinel, 
 who is a fairly-taken representative of his kind. 
 How stunted he is, what a poor little creature, what 
 an under-sized half-human, with a pushed-down look 
 from the head, as if he had been bumped into the 
 world by Prometheus with disgust, saying, "There, go, 
 you dummy, you — you — dump ! ! " His own opinion 
 is that he would thrash half-a-dozen Bavarians ; but 
 nevertheless, even if this be so, still I say, as a thing 
 to look at, what a frivolous face he has, what* a 
 hideous hat, what bad taste in those red trou«ers and 
 that long blue coat : and then, see the absurd extin- 
 guisher or packing-case he has on, in the shape of 
 a snuffy brown greatcoat, with such a preposterous 
 hood, and the whole set-out, such a withered frowsy 
 dowdy deformity. Search the whole "universe," 
 and inspect every costume from the Albanian to the 
 Laplander, and absolutely you will not find any so 
 pitilessly plain and awkward as the dress of the 
 French soldier. On every such stumpy soldier's broad 
 brown back, I always think I see inscribed a remark 
 which a lady made to me about them, '' The dress is 
 so frifi^htful." 
 
 How strange, that the French, who once were 
 supposed to be such masters of fashion, cannot dress 
 themselves and their soldiers better, nor even trim 
 their beards with any taste. How is it that even the
 
 26 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 young Gallic men have none of the good looks of the 
 young French women ? 
 
 " I declare," said Cyril gaily, " it is one of the 
 most unutterable freaks of that queer old jade, dame 
 Nature. 
 
 " Come along, Floss," said Cyril, to a very fine 
 and unusually large spaniel, which was his constant 
 companion, and which was called after one his father 
 once had ; " I confess to thee, Floss, however, that 
 if the Boulogne men are no beauties, they have a 
 very lovely place to defend." 
 
 Our bluff king, old Harry the Eighth, wound up his 
 amicable parade on the Field of the Cloth of Gold 
 near Guines in 1520, by taking hostile possession of 
 Boulogne with thirty thousand troops in 1544 ; and 
 it was an exploit creditable to that stout monarch, 
 the place being considered very strong. 
 
 In the High or Upper Town, the popish cathedral 
 of Notre Dame has a handsome tower with dome and 
 lantern, something like St. Paul's on a small scale ; 
 it looks tolerably well from a distance, but the rest of 
 the edifice is meagre and out of proportion, giving an 
 exact sample of popish ambition, the head being held 
 too high, without good grounds beneath. The dome 
 is spoiled by being plastered with crosses, and scored 
 with idolatrous divine ascriptions to the Virgin. 
 
 Certainly, all such extravagant honors paid to the 
 Virgin Mary, are mere heathenism ; they are not 
 Christianity. All true- and sound Protestant Church- 
 men feel great respect for the Virgin Mother of our 
 Saviour ; and they best respect her, when they
 
 Boulogne. 27 
 
 decline to make her more than that which is her true 
 claim, to be the most highly-favored woman that 
 ever existed, though a mere woman. Because, if 
 there was anything more than woman in herself, then 
 our Lord could not be human, as He deigned to 
 derive His humanity from her ; consequently, any 
 attempt to make her in the least a goddess, or 
 privileged with an immaculate conception at her 
 own birth, would fatally vitiate the Incarnation, and 
 bereave us of our best blessing, a Saviour jointly 
 human and divine. This Redeemer, to be human, 
 must be born ; and to be born. He had a mother : 
 and this was a high honor to the mother : but, then, 
 how perverse is it of the Papists, to seize upon fhe 
 mother, and give her all the homage which her son 
 came to receive ! There is in it something so tor- 
 tuous, so crookedly artful, and so stupidly ingenious, 
 that we may justly consider all such Mariolatry as 
 not Christian at all, but no other than heathen, lite- 
 rally the Pagan devotion to Venus and Cupid, which 
 were the family divinities of ^neas and Caesar and 
 Rome. 
 
 All the false worship, however, though so utterly 
 repugnant to Christianity, is desperately prevalent. 
 And it is certainly melancholy to see, not so fully in 
 Paris, as in the other cities of France, how strong a 
 hold the childish ultramontane errors have upon the 
 general population ; though indeed it is not so much 
 the case that the people love or adopt the chief doc- 
 trines of popery, as that they dandle the doctrines 
 even while they doubt them, being entirely ignorant
 
 28 Jtssie of Boulogne. 
 
 of the solid Gospel truths which could so summarily 
 and happily replace them. 
 
 The two main drawbacks in Boulogne are, that 
 there is a glut of English, and that there is also an 
 overabundance of nuns and priests. Great trains of 
 fat " nuns " meet us, walking two and two like 
 schools ; some of them are called White Sisters 
 because they are not dressed in white : at least, they 
 have on very dirty-white flannel or serge ^' bed- 
 gowns," and oh ! how they do smell : such a whiff 
 you get as you pass them ! Their whole appearance 
 is more woe-begone-looking than any English work- 
 house cut ; and they are so outlandish, so utterly 
 out of harmony with the present century and the 
 march of ideas, and "withal" so peculiarly ugly, 
 that you could not imagine any one improvising 
 such a rig, except some mischievous wight who 
 wanted to masquerade as a ghost. Fancy such 
 '' nuns " parading and mooning gloomily along damp 
 corridors and twilight cloisters, attired in such un- 
 earthly sepulchral suits ; so horrible ! How such 
 an unnatural system continues to this day, is one of 
 the oddest of all puzzles. 
 
 But, the old priests ! they go along through the 
 streets, " reading " breviary books, turned upside 
 down ; books about saints who carried their heads 
 under their arms, or sailed about on their cloaks. 
 And the home missionaries, or school teachers, who 
 dress like priests, are heavy old juveniles (one I am 
 confident was a woman) ; they generally go about in 
 twos and fours, and sometimes in double sixes, like a
 
 Boulogne, 
 
 ti' 
 
 29 
 
 flock of crows. They are not allowed to go alone. 
 Some of them are ^'brothers/' and a whole rookery 
 of them all live together ; and one of them leans the 
 boots, another " man " makes the beds, another man 
 cooks the meals, and so on : a den of degradation ! 
 But, the best sight is, to see the young priests. Their 
 hats have huge shadowy black brims, as benighted 
 and darkling as their wearers ; their long black duds 
 or cassocks hang down straight and slim, the skirts 
 flapping about their fat shanks. Look at that one, 
 there, a youngish priest ; what a powerful thick 
 being he is, literally lusty, with the brawn moving 
 and twitching on his gibbous flanks : how I should 
 like to see him set to digging or some steady " hard 
 work." 
 
 I cannot regard these priests otherwise than as the 
 bonzes of an effete error soon to be exploded. Such 
 men, with their black gabardines and black dogmas, 
 have no place in the present day. No apparition, 
 such as an ostrich coming round a corner with a pipe 
 in his mouth, and sporting a red crinoline ; or a cow 
 on her hind-legs, with an umbrella clasped to her 
 bovine " buzzum," could seem more out of place or 
 unreal, than these sooty-tailed, broad-hatted, white- 
 wattled, old-world priests, dodging about the streets, 
 like black shower-baths. A child hit them off" very 
 well, by calling them " ridiculous," and abbreviating 
 the epithet (Dorice) into '' The 'Diculouses." 
 
 As to the other disadvantage in Boulogne, the 
 numbers of English people ; it is plain that they 
 are overdone : there never being less than from
 
 30 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 three to five thousand of them in Boulogne. They 
 quite infest the streets, nor can anything stop their 
 influx. All that the ablest malice could do, has 
 been tried, in vain. Not long ago, a high emissary 
 of the Times newspaper got handsomely snubbed in 
 Boulogne, and in revenge he tried to run the place 
 down in English estimation ; but the Printing-house 
 ^' thunderer " failed egregiously. The place is too 
 lively to be ruined by print. 
 
 The Times' attack, however, still rankles in the 
 conscience of Boulogne, whose " home " authorities 
 know there was a doctorial mortality among children 
 which gave rise to the slander ; not the place, but 
 its quackery ought to have been criticized : so they 
 know they rather "protest too much" about the 
 injustice of the Times. 
 
 The newspaper onslaught is understood to be con- 
 stantly still referred to, in all the little cliques of 
 refugee officers and " outlaws," who are grotesquely 
 presided over by those gentlemen who in a Boulogne 
 sense are the chief culprits. At least, this was the 
 impression Cyril received from what was said to him 
 by the proprietor of his Andante hotel. Even a cap- 
 tain who has come to grief for sixty thousand pounds, 
 ranks above a general who has only failed for a 
 paltry four or five thousand. The Boulogne opinion 
 is strongly against there being any punishment for 
 debt at all ; they say, and with some truth, that the 
 debtor is usually the dupe, and the creditor is the 
 knave, who gambles in giving credit, knowing there 
 is " the law " to pick his prey for him. If dealers and
 
 Boulogne, 3 1 
 
 traders could not recover their "little bills" in any 
 way, they would not give credit, and all would be 
 ready money ; indeed, when a seller hands you over 
 an article, it is his business, and not the business of 
 the public, to see that he gets his cash in return for 
 the goods. If he does not get paid, it is he who 
 ought to be punished, at least by the loss. Such is 
 the Boulogne contention ; and the logic may be 
 tenable, or even true, although it emanates from 
 *^ circles " which have not been squared, and are sup- 
 posed to be notorious for questionable morality. 
 
 All the while, Boulogne has many very nice, and 
 a few well-dressed, people ; because amid the vast 
 and unconscionable inroad of English, there are many 
 estimable and some genteel and refined persons, who 
 come to Boulogne for educational purposes, or with 
 a view to health, or merely for a cheerful change of 
 scene. 
 
 No sooner had Cyril got into this train of thought, 
 than he stumbled on a local specimen, a talkative 
 man, with a slouching hat, brown tone of toggery, 
 Irish accent, and no whiskers. Cyril knew no more 
 of him than consisted in his handing him a news- 
 paper at a reading-room a few hours before, whereon 
 the individual took occasion to launch out into a 
 strain of remarkably nonsensical politics. The man 
 was simply a bore ; however, he sufficed to make 
 Cyril see, what is the fact, that if you go to Boulogne, 
 you cannot walk up and down the Grande Rue, and 
 interchange a word with any steamboat or newsroom 
 acquaintances, without hearing one universal chorus
 
 32 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 of complaints and grievances. Whether or not, in 
 England, the " Boulogne visitors " had been the 
 vultures, or (more probably) the mere victims of the 
 cupidity of others ; certainly, here, at Boulogne, in a 
 "foreign land," they are plundered to an extent 
 which deserves some attention at the hands of the 
 local authorities. The Frenchmen in power look on, 
 and take no notice, while the English every day are 
 harried by the extortioners. Such a case as this is 
 common : — A gentleman takes an unfurnished house, 
 and fancies it is more convenient and " more econo- 
 mical " to eke out his own scanty furniture by hiring 
 some for three months ; the amount of the hire is 
 perhaps 300 francs, being 33 per cent, on the value 
 of the furniture. The tradesman seems a respectable 
 one, and the Englishman feels assured all is right ; 
 so there is no written agreement. The three months 
 expire, and at the end thereof the Frenchman insists 
 that the rate of 300 francs was only for each month ; 
 so that, for the three months, you have to pay 900 
 francs, or actually the whole value of the things. 
 You have no redress. This is a common trick. Or? 
 again, a lady, " studying economy," hires a piano on 
 the common English footing that the hire goes 
 towards the purchase ; she writes out her own agree- 
 ment, and the man signs it, but it is in English, and 
 therefore it is not good in (French) law. At the end of 
 the period, three years, the lady fondly imagines that 
 the piano has become her own property ; and perhaps 
 she has planned to go off to England, with it and her 
 other possessions. Whereupon the Frenchman steps
 
 Boulogne. 2iZ 
 
 in, and carries off the piano, amid her packing ; he 
 coolly ignores his own arrangement altogether, and 
 hints menacingly at his having been just in time to 
 save his goods from being fraudulently abstracted, 
 muttering also something about Proc. Imperial, and 
 the like. When remonstrated with, and shown his 
 own signature, he maintains that the exceptionally 
 high payment which the lady made every quarter, 
 was only the customary rate of mere hiring ; so 
 Madame Anglaise has to swallow her chagrin as best 
 she may, in the packet, wJiicli is not so easy to do, when 
 one is sea-sick. It is utterly useless to combat these 
 rapacities. The French jurists are all dead against 
 you. And these artifices are chiefly in operaticfh 
 against those who are known to be " going away ; " 
 and thus, what with your English agreements, and 
 your Enghsh jabber, and your wish to leave, you are 
 easily and neatly trounced. 
 
 Such fleecing of the English in every form and 
 shape, is the only thing like an excuse for the Great 
 British Boulogne vengeance, which consists in cheat- 
 ing the French post-office. Everyone smuggles over 
 one's letters to one's friends ; and every ordinary 
 Englishman affects to see no harm in so doing. The 
 postage [1862] is fourpence ; yet very few indeed of 
 the letters of the Boulogne English to England, go 
 in the orthodox way, with that knavish groat. Every- 
 one puts an Enghsh penny stamp on his letter ; and 
 the letter is taken and postied in England by the next 
 friend who goes. Whenever Major this or Colonel 
 that or the Rev. the other, crosses to England, he 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 Jessie of Boulog> 
 
 ne. 
 
 always carries concealed on his person a sheaf of 
 thirty-five letters at least ; thus robbing the French 
 post of fourteen francs each time. Some of the late 
 (not the present) stewards of the packets used to take 
 over quite a drawer-full at a trip ; and it was the 
 custom for Captain, Colonel, the Rev. and Co. to fee 
 the said steward, every now and then, with tidy tips. 
 One schoolboy, going to England, had his pockets 
 stuffed wdth about fifty letters ; when some mischiev- 
 ous wag hoaxed the boy, and told him, the mounted 
 police (worse than the horse marines) were coming to 
 search him, and he should be sure to be guillotined : 
 so getting afraid, the boy threw the fifty letters on 
 the sea, where they floated about, to the great amuse- 
 ment of the fishes. I beg to propound that it w^ould 
 be worth while for the French harpies suddenly to 
 search the amateur post-deliverers : and then, if '^ pro- 
 ceedings " were also taken, we should get to the 
 bottom of the current English palliation, which is an 
 interesting piece of morality in its way, inasmuch as 
 the British argument is, that there is nothing wrong- 
 in sending English letters with English stamps by 
 friends, because, otherwise, ichy are English penny 
 stamps sold publicly in the French shops ? They also 
 allege, that '^ postage" is never a punishment, but 
 always a privilege ; and thus you need not avail your- 
 self of the French postal machinery, unless you like ! 
 Really, there is at least a bit of truth in both exculpa- 
 tions. Nevertheless, the very fact of such an occur- 
 rence at all, is a full proof, that there is too much of 
 the English element in Boulogne.
 
 Boulogne. 3^ 
 
 The English become a nuisance by their numbers. 
 Like as you " cannot see the wood for the trees," so 
 also you cannot see the Boulogne people for the 
 Boulogne English. Look at that fellow, over there ; 
 he is a thirty-year old, short in stature, and short of 
 cash : he wants to be thought a French count : but 
 he is only an English rake. Look at him, I say, as 
 a specimen. He is always prancing up and down 
 the Grande Rue and the Port, attired in a rough 
 coat, and shining black leggings, and a porkpie cap, 
 over dirty dark hair, with shaggy muzzle, and pipe 
 by way of tompion ; dealing out slang and in- 
 decent remarks right and left. He is sadly in want 
 of a good dusting. Such fast, or rather loose, Old 
 urchins, of whom there is an extensive assortment, 
 give a prejudicial idea of the English to the French. 
 
 '' Still," said Cyril, "I believe there are many nice 
 people ; and, they say, there are lots of pretty girls. 
 So, let us go again to the tasty pier or Jet^e de 1' 
 Est, as that is where we shall be sure to see Mr. All- 
 theworld, and his wife and daughters. Come along, 
 Floss." 
 
 In this lightsome, but still keenly observant 
 manner, did Cyril proceed to the spot which was 
 now to have so much influence on all his future life. 
 Little did he anticipate what was to betide him there. 
 Sometimes amid our liveliest moments, the threads of 
 our destiny are weaving fastest ; so true is it, that 
 we know not what a day may bring forth. 
 
 Our future may have its mystery, and the present 
 its storms of sorrow ; still the whole can be viewed
 
 36 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 as working together for our eventual good. This 
 result may be likened to the blue of the beauteous 
 sky which arches itself around our world. The blue 
 is really black, which is however softened down by 
 the tears of the atmosphere, so as to wear the lovely 
 azure hue. The blue tint of the heavens is caused by 
 the reflection of light upon the watery particles held 
 in solution in the air ; and when the rays fall upon 
 the " waters which are above the firmament," the 
 beams of light subdue to us that native darkness of 
 space, which the most venturesome aeronauts at their 
 loftiest elevations have noted as appearing almost 
 black : like as Coleridge in his Alpine hymn finely 
 characterizes the air seen from the summit of Mont 
 Blanc, as " substantial, black, an ebon mass." How 
 correctly then are we told concerning the Deity, that 
 " it was dark under his feet " ; and how true is the 
 sacred history which describes light as having super- 
 vened over a previously darkened chaos. So that 
 now, for our enjoyment, the deep black of illimit- 
 able Space is sobered down into the fair cerulean 
 as])ect, which results from the action of light upon 
 the vapors of the sky. Like as then the eternal 
 night of the heavens' expanse, is toned down by the 
 sunbeams into day's sapphire bloom of beauty ; so 
 also the darknesses of earth and earthly trials, may 
 be seen to have over them a " vail of blue," telling, 
 that the true light which now shineth, is flowing from 
 a Grod whose name is Love. 
 
 And in this very spirit, it is desirable, that such a 
 subject as pure love, should be treated in the very
 
 Boulogne, 3 7 
 
 manner that may make the topic of " Love " not 
 unsuitable for perusal. The emotion of love is a 
 necessity of our nature ; it is therefore best to make 
 love a ^^ proper " theme, and to direct it according 
 to the pure principles of religion. Nothing is gained 
 by trying to ignore love. Though love is what every 
 man and woman thinks most about, the way of the 
 world hitherto has been to treat it as something 
 shameful or absurd, or at best a transitory fantasy ; 
 and the result has been, misery, vice, and death. So 
 true is what the pious Southey asserts, " They sin who 
 tell us love can die."
 
 ^8 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 TEDDY. 
 
 '* Life's May-day may be jocund, and its eve 
 Of summer close auspicious, while the sun 
 Of pleasure shines unclouded ; few perceive, 
 When dangers are remote, the risks they run : 
 All hope the goal of happiness is won. " 
 
 Caunter's "Island Bride." 
 
 We must now follow the letter to Greorge Thornton, 
 who received it with both delight and surprise, it 
 seemed so incredibly to chime in with the very plans 
 which he had just been revolving. The few, but 
 attached, members of his family had usually been a 
 good deal scattered, because of the public duties and 
 responsible offices which (as we saw) his father was 
 inspired by patriotism to fulfil in different lands ; 
 hence the General was often in one place, George in 
 another, his mother in another, and so on. Yet their 
 hearts were all lovingly united ; and at present Sir 
 William and George happened to be alone, in their 
 fine baronial mansion, Limelands, in Hertfordshire. 
 Sir William himself was of an ancient Wiltshire race, 
 of good estate (Pinwell) ; his wife Gwendoline was 
 baroness of Edensor in her own right ; she had 
 brought him the stately Hertfordshire seat. Lime-
 
 Teddy. 59 
 
 lands, with all its broad acres. Nor could any couple be 
 better suited for each other ; she had been a most 
 dazzlingly lovely girl : and now as a matron she 
 seemed almost as handsome as ever, her beauty being 
 only changed in degree : she was one of those con- 
 cerning whom we often hear the remark, that " she 
 looked like an elder sister to her own daughter." 
 Nowhere except in England is this characteristic 
 seen. 
 
 Other countries may boast of pretty maidens ; 
 England alone can also produce the lovely matron. 
 The reason of this is not so clear. Why should the 
 well-formed and fine-faced French damsel develop 
 into the sour and crabbed middle-aged female ? I* it 
 someway ascribable to French vinegar ? or is ugliness 
 catching, so that they are inoculated with it by their 
 husbands .<* In the case of American ladies, as is 
 well known, nothing is so rare to see as a comely 
 matron ; but this sad effect can at once be assigned 
 to its cause, the destructive habits of life to which 
 American women resort. But, why should German 
 women get so flabby and coarse ? it may be natural 
 for elderly Spanish dames to become sallow, and 
 bronzy, and wrinkled ; but why should the ladies of 
 Saxony be so gross at forty, when the Anglo-Saxon 
 women of England maintain their charms so well at 
 the same age 'i The fact is easier stated than ex- 
 plained ; for my own part, I have some idea that the 
 permanence of British beauty is the result of the 
 happy and holy Bible spirit, which so specially ani- 
 mates the women of England.
 
 40 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 But as Lady Thornton was not now at Limelands, 
 we must confine ourselves to what passed between 
 George and his father. Sir William Thornton had 
 not given up his diplomatic life ; but on the contrary 
 had just accepted a most honorable and responsible 
 post in the distant East, to which he intended at once 
 to set out, proceeding overland to India with his 
 family. But he had doubted whether it would be 
 well to take his only son George with him ? 
 
 And yet the natural desire not to be parted from 
 one so dear, pulled hard against his resolution. 
 
 So, Cyril's letter was all that was wanting, to turn 
 the scale. And as the 'Amaranth' might be an advan- 
 tage and a comfort in the new regions, it was decided 
 that George should start in the yacht, and pick up 
 Cyril, and proceed as rapidly as possible to the 
 General's destination, leaving subsequent events to 
 shape themselves. 
 
 But when George began to make ready, and fuss 
 and pack, he found that he could not be prepared so 
 expeditiously as he imagined. 
 
 As for Cyril, he was accustomed to content himself 
 with but few accoutrements, since like most young 
 bachelors he considered luggage a nuisance ; so his 
 stock was small, but very choice and select : whereas 
 George, perhaps as having been more regularly in 
 the way of female influence, took more haversacks 
 with him than was quite consistent with rapid 
 motion. 
 
 They usually quizzed each other about it ; Cyril 
 would have it that George went about everywhere.
 
 Teddy. 4 1 
 
 with enough " goods " to set up two or three up- 
 holstery, and haberdashery, and ironmongery estab- 
 lishments : and in reply, George declared that Cyril 
 took nothing with him but a nightcap : and when 
 Cyril responded that he did not wear one, George 
 insisted, that the only load Cyril took with him, was 
 the burden of his sonof. 
 
 However this may be, George, who had merely 
 written back to Cyril to say " I'm coming to you," 
 discovered, that besides a certain Edith aftair, there 
 were numerous little matters which made it necessary 
 that he should allow himself a little more elbow-room 
 of hours or even days. So he sent for Mr. Tyne, or 
 Captain Tyne, or Tom Tyne as he had once be^n 
 called by boys, strangers, and inferiors ; and if the 
 truth must be told, there were many lofty people 
 who were everyway Mr. Tyne's inferiors. He was a 
 sort of captain, with a mixture of boatswain and 
 "• master ; " and he presided most efficiently over the 
 nautical department of the 'Amaranth.' He had once 
 been only a man-of-war's man ; but, possessing a 
 very good education, and being unusually intelligent, 
 he wished for time to study, and so he left the service 
 and married. After a few years of domestic bliss, 
 his wife had died, leaving him one little girl, of whom 
 he was passionately fond. He placed her at a good 
 school, Mr. Tyne being decidedly in easy circum- 
 stances ; and in order to shake off the melancholy 
 which his wife's death had caused, he was glad to 
 embrace the opportunity of following his old love, 
 " the glad waters of the dark blue sea."
 
 4 2 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 The yacht was all the way off at Plymouth ; so 
 George arranged with Mr. Tyne that it should be 
 brought on to I^ewhaven, where he would join it, as 
 he had rather a particular farewell visit to pay in 
 that quarter. 
 
 Mr. Tyne set sail, as he called going by train ; and 
 he contrived to treat himself to a look at his little 
 daughter on the way, little Mary, whom he found, 
 though at school, as happy and cheerful as possible : 
 and the visit to her made his own worthy heart be 
 filled afresh, with the most pure and joyful emo- 
 tions. 
 
 After Mr. Tyne had left, Greorge still had one of 
 his crew with him at Limelands. This individual 
 was Teddy, an Irishman, of course. 
 
 Teddy was "from the north of Ireland, your 
 honor ; " he was a Protestant, and a most faithful 
 chivalric fellow. He was not supposed to have any 
 relations ; and thus his enforced silence on that 
 topic was in singular contrast with the usual course of 
 his countrymen, Irishmen being commonly so com- 
 municative on the score of grand relations, or imagi- 
 native, in default of facts. 
 
 Nor was any wife of Teddy '^ to the fore," nor, for 
 that matter, any father or mother ; since he had 
 been picked off a wreck, and no surname of Teddy 
 was known. It may have been O'Flanagan, or 
 O'Dowd, or the O'Driscol, or some other such melli- 
 fluous appellation, redolent of bogs and praties ; if so, 
 nobody knew it. Even the very name ^^ Teddy " 
 had the Irish twist ; for, it was understood to be the
 
 Teddy. 43 
 
 abbreviation, not as we would think of Edward or of 
 Edmund, but of Thaddeus : so Teddy was a substi- 
 tute for Thady. And he declared in confidence to 
 all enquirers, that one name was enough for one per- 
 son ; two names, quoth he, might do very well for 
 two people : but what did one person want with 
 more than one ? He clinched this, by enquiring tri- 
 umphantly, " Did you ever know me to be taken for 
 any other Teddy but myself ? " 
 
 Unique he was, certainly ; still, very safe, sober, 
 and reliable. His only drawback was, his habit of 
 making mistakes ; still these were rather in word 
 than in deed. What he had to do, he did ; but the 
 way he set about it was often as peculiar as himsqlf. 
 He w^as a handsome fellow, tall, rather slight, but 
 very strong, about two-and- twenty or so, with dark 
 eyes and curly locks ; always merry was Teddy, 
 with a pleasant word for everybody, and with an 
 excuse ever ready for himself. When he once made 
 a mistake in spelling a word, altering biscuit to 
 basket, he defended himself superbly by contending, 
 it was all along of the goose with whose quill he 
 wrote. His talk was only partly Irish ; the Irish 
 (bigger) half was derived from his youthful remem- 
 brances, and from his Irish nurse : in the remainder, 
 such peculiarities were much softened down by his 
 English domicile. Despite his bulls and blunders, 
 his meaning could mostly be made out, especially if 
 the matter was at all important. 
 
 But whenever any httle anecdote was told by him, 
 you generally had to " heave the lead " for yourself,
 
 44 Jessie of JBoulogne. 
 
 and take soundings, independent of the narrator ; 
 else you could not make head or tail of his descrip- 
 tion. Thus in referring to the loss of a Belfast 
 steamer, he spoke of it as a sad business, because 
 there were only two men saved, and one was the 
 mate, and the other was the stewardess, and she was 
 insured for six thousand pounds, and was full of 
 pigs. 
 
 Again, it required some ingenuity to fathom his 
 drift, when he sought to teach one of his cronies, a 
 patent mode of extemporizing a fire and boiling a 
 kettle quickly ; so he insisted that you would save 
 lots of time, if you heated the kettle first : although 
 the case was one where there was no other fire to 
 heat it with : and indeed, if there was another fire, 
 why might not it do, both to warm and to boil? 
 But Teddy's idea was, that, where a cold kettle had 
 to go on a solitary fire, you would accelerate the 
 tay-making amazingly, if you first '^ took the chill 
 off" : ^' Yes," vociferated Teddy, "first make your 
 kettle warrum, and then, down with it on the blazes." 
 
 George usually kept Teddy about him, or not far 
 off, partly because Teddy amused him, partly because 
 he had a real liking for the honest fellow, and also a 
 little to keep him out of harm's way. The fear was, 
 not that he would stray into any improper courses, 
 against which Teddy seemed to be proof ; but that 
 his generous and dauntless spirit of Irish knight- 
 errantry would bring him into some row or rumpus, 
 w^here he might be overmastered, though it would 
 take a dozen men to do it : still of course he might
 
 Teddy, 45 
 
 be overcome and taken to the station-house as a dis- 
 turber of the Queen's peace. Any unjust or mean 
 act that he witnessed in the streets, he felt prompted 
 to take in hand and avenge on the spot. Thus once 
 at a crossing in the Strand, where the mud was deep 
 on either side, Teddy observed that a great long lout 
 of a fellow stood in the middle of the swept place, 
 trying to vend a large bundle of bootlaces or shoe- 
 ties, holding them up in the face of everyone who 
 passed, and crying with a squeaking accent, " Shoe- 
 strings, shoestrings.^^ Just as Teddy came up, this 
 wretch managed to manoeuvre a woma^n off into the 
 mud ; she was a decent widow-looking woman, who, 
 nervous about the cabs, rushed through the sludge, 
 ankle-deep, to get rid of the fellow's importunity. 
 Grinning at her discomfiture, he came up next to 
 operate on Teddy, and held the wisp of tags in his 
 face. Whereon our broth of a boy, having unusually 
 strong and iron sinews, with simply a crank motion 
 of the wrist, brought up the trifle of a shillelah 
 which he commonly carried, so as to come crack 
 against the back of the fellow's hand, enough to 
 smash the very bones, and making the " shoestrings " 
 fly in a rainbow right and left over the slushy street, 
 while their late lord doubled himself up and danced 
 with pain : and as for Teddy, he passed calmly on, 
 as if nothing had happened. Such doings were 
 magnanimous, but scarcely fit for London streets. 
 Teddy had no notion of the philosophy of the man 
 who when told by some churl he would ^' take the 
 wall," replied, " Yes, take the wall, and * take ' the
 
 46 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 house too, if you can agree with the landlord." Teddy 
 could not brook the idea of either himself or anyone 
 else being "put upon." If some three or four un- 
 mannerly loungers did not want to leave him room 
 to pass, he was quite prepared to stop and " fight the 
 whole lot," on the flags. 
 
 There was not, in this, much of the science of 
 Trivia, or the art of Walking the Streets. When- 
 ever a lady was in the case, Teddy was most deter- 
 mined in her favor. He used to say lie never had 
 anything whatsoever to do with any woman ; how 
 he was born, his hearers could therefore never make 
 out : still, he asserted, that though neither girl nor 
 female ever had anything to do with him, bedad, any 
 man or mortal who ill-treated any one woman, 
 would have another to square accounts with, in 
 himself. 
 
 And yet there was one way in which, our gallant 
 Teddy taught a lesson, to many a lady, in the streets, 
 as regards politeness. 
 
 That a gentleman should, if necessary, go out into 
 the street, however muddy, to make room for a lady, 
 is of course an axiom of Irish civilized life. Up to 
 the knees in the dirt, he must go, as a disciple of Sir 
 Walter Raleigh and potatoes and good breeding, if it 
 be really needful to save the lady from bespatter- 
 ment. 
 
 Yet sometimes we see " ladies " marching on, 
 three deep, with amplitude of skirts, and meeting 
 one gentleman, when he, as in duty bound, edges off 
 to the verge of the flagway ; but the ladies make no
 
 Teddy » 47 
 
 return of politeness, nor bate an incli, for him, but 
 sail on, widespread as ever, as if they were uncon- 
 scious of the existence of the gentleman, who has to 
 betake himself to the gutter. This is far from being 
 an uncommon phenomenon. 
 
 But Teddy had his own remedy ; he went to the 
 very outside of the footway, but he would not go off 
 it : and as the ladies came on, as if for a collision, he 
 stopped, and took off his " caubeen " or hat, as if to 
 say, You see I have done all I can I and thus, half 
 smiling, half ashamed, they drew aside enough to let 
 him pass on. 
 
 Even this, though so just, might, where gentlemen 
 were in attendance on the ladies, provoke a brav^^, 
 which would be just what Teddy would enjoy. Thus 
 Teddy, though big and brave enough to be an Argo- 
 naut or any other hero, was one who in some respects 
 rather wanted '^ his nurse." George therefore felt 
 bound to look after him a little, especially as Teddy 
 had more than once saved his life ; once was, when 
 he was in a boat which got upset in a squall on Win- 
 dermere. 
 
 '^ You'll go to Boulogne, then ? " says Greorge. 
 '•Yes, your honor," says Teddy. 
 " You know where it is, I suppose ? " 
 " 0, somewhere amono^ the furriners." 
 '^ But do you think you can find it ? " 
 ^^ 0, leave me alone for that, your honor." 
 " Well," says George, " here is a full memorandum 
 of how I should go if I were you ; but, as I am 
 not, there is no knowing how you will pull along."
 
 /^ 8 yesste of Boulogne. 
 
 " Pull through, it is, your honor." 
 
 " Yes, but you'll be swimming across, or flying, or 
 hiring a mermaid, or something. However, I envy 
 you, how you can manage to do without even a kit 
 or sailor's bundle." 
 
 " It is, your honor, because I am not an elephant, 
 with my trunk always under my eye." 
 
 " Yes, but, we are going among the elephants , 
 and therefore, Teddy, as you are to be amid foreigners 
 and dangerous cattle, had you not better make your 
 will ? " 
 
 " 0, be asy, your honor ; will^ is it ? arrah, I'll not 
 make one till I get a wife, and then I should have no 
 will of my own. If I did leave anything it would be 
 to the Bible Society. All the while, the sort of Will 
 I'd like, is of this sort : — As I have no property, I 
 bequeath it all to my enemies ; my debts I leave to 
 my friends, and the remainder I give to the poor : 
 the whole to be free of legacy duty : — that's what I 
 call a Will that would make it worth any man's 
 while to die and be waked. But now, your honor, 
 your will is the thing, about my starting ? " 
 
 " Off" at once, my good Teddy ; but, let me see, 
 when you cross the Channel, what are you to 
 do?" 
 
 ^' To make out Mr. Cyril ; though I confess I 
 do not like your going among the Cabanas people." 
 
 " Hush, Teddy ; not a word about Cabanas, please : 
 the subject is too painful to be referred to thus. But 
 when you find Mr. Cyril tell him that the 'Amaranth' 
 and I are coming there, to him, as fast as our boots
 
 Teddy. 49 
 
 can bring us, when we get all straight, which is likely 
 to be very soon. And here is a word or two for 
 him." 
 
 " All right, sir." 
 
 And so Teddy started, with a fall purse, and a 
 light heart. There was no fear of his missing any 
 place he set out for, once he had it described to him ; 
 though his geographical accomplishments were very 
 defective. Nor was George particularly afraid that 
 Teddy would get into any quarrel or scrape "abroad," 
 because Greorge was well aware that, especially in 
 so Anglicanized a place as Boulogne, it was an ac- 
 cepted fact, that the English were all either mad or 
 very odd, and so they were a privileged race, per- 
 mitted (as long as they had lots of money) to take all 
 sorts of liberties with impunity. This civil system of 
 making every allowance for ^* English " peculiarities, 
 would be Master Paddy's safeguard. 
 
 George laid only one embargo on him, and that 
 was, not to box, nor strike any Frenchman with his 
 fist. He told him he had better use a poker or club, 
 or bayonet, or stiletto, or anything, rather than his 
 FIST, as regards the sensation it would make. The 
 French populace entertain a most ludicrous horror 
 of the English fist. The mace of Thor could not be 
 deemed more prostrating. The Frenchmen them- 
 selves seem to have no tendency to employ their fists. 
 Two French fellows, if they quarrel, come up to each 
 other, looking very black and wicked, and they clench 
 their hands with their arms held down stiff at their 
 sides, as if they meant to cuff or spar ; but it all 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 05 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 ends, not in manual exercise, but in kicks, yerked 
 out as scientifically as any jackass could deliver : one 
 of these lads will actually kick you on your chin, (if 
 you catch hold of his leg, you will have him down, 
 nicely :) they are also great in pelting stones. But 
 as to the British fist, it is understood to be the 
 greatest and deadliest concussionist the world has 
 ever seen, since battering-rams have gone out of 
 fashion. 
 
 Teddy's plan of getting across to France, was 
 original like himself. He could not have any adven- 
 ture between Limelands and London, because George 
 sent him in his dogcart with his groom to the station ; 
 so Teddy had to go to town by rail like any other 
 Christian. 
 
 But once he was afloat on his own legs in Euston 
 Square, he set out on foot, regardless of what the 
 streets were, as if he was sailing by compass ; and 
 he came to his harbour, just where he meant, in a 
 street near the Tower, where lived a waterman, with 
 whom he bargained to be taken down the river, to 
 Deal. Arrived there, he scraped an acquaintance 
 with one of the celebrated Deal boatmen, who en- 
 gaged to put him on board one of the Boulogne 
 fishing boats. 
 
 These Boulogne vessels come sometimes nearer to 
 the English shores, for fish, than they are supposed 
 to be entitled to do. Sometimes also they are pug- 
 nacious ; they often carry several men, from a dozen 
 to seventeen or twenty, and move rapidly, being fur- 
 nished not only with sails, but also with '^ sweeps,"
 
 Teddy. 5 1 
 
 which are very long and very lazy enormous oars. 
 The sea-faring population of Boulogne amounts to 
 the formidable total of above 3,200 men ; and of 
 these, 679 are at the beck of the Grovernment, forming 
 a sort of Naval Reserve. The number is remarkable. 
 One of these strong Boulogne boats lately attacked 
 in mid-channel an inoffensive small English fishing 
 boat, in which there were not more than five hands ; 
 the Frenchmen pelted the Englishmen most unmer- 
 cifully, with large stones which they probably had 
 among the ballast of their boat, and caused severe 
 injuries. 
 
 Teddy however was more fortunate. His Deal 
 pilot having brought him alongside the big Boulogne 
 boat, No. 702, named le fils de dieu (the Son 
 of God ! ! a fact), at once Teddy hailed it, with the 
 only French he knew, '^ Parlez vous Boulogne?" 
 whereto the Frenchman, seeming to catch only the 
 last word, answered, " Oui." 
 
 '^ 0," says Teddy, '^it is TF(?,is it? to be sure, that 
 will be the French polite way of saying, i, /, sir." 
 
 Teddy scrambled on board \ and going up to the 
 chief fisherman, who, as being ugliest, dirtiest, and 
 biggest-booted, was apparently the skipper, Teddy 
 addressed him in the universally intelligible language, 
 (whether it is in answer to Backsheesh in the Nubian 
 deserts, or, '' Gie me penny " in the Gaelic Highlands, 
 it is always understood :) so Teddy tendered his diplo- 
 matic credentials in the shape of a couple of five- 
 franc pieces, in silver, (the French like silver better 
 than gold,) and the coins were gratefully and grace- 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLI"N0IS
 
 5 2 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 fully accepted. He was made free of tlie boat, and 
 he lent a hand at the fishing, which was very suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 But when the weather chano-ed, and something 
 equal to a whole gale of wind sprung up very sud- 
 denly Teddy showed his seamanlike qualities, to the 
 surprise of the Continentals ; for, Teddy had not 
 been taken by them to be a seaman, since it was one 
 of his merry whims to dress himself like a land-lubber 
 when he was not on yacht-service : and with his 
 Irish impudence to help him, he made quite a gentle- 
 manly appearance. He vowed he could pass himself 
 off as a pretty girl, only he was a trifle too tall. It 
 was credibly reported among his comrades, that on 
 one occasion, he attired himself like a young clergy- 
 man, with white ''choker," small umbrella, and all, 
 and looked better than many specimens of the raal 
 article. 
 
 Now, however, his rig was that of a private gen- 
 tleman or plain Mussoo. So, when he manifested 
 how good practical knowledge he had of marine 
 matters, and when he saw their surprise, he pulled 
 open his coat, and showed the anchor buttons 
 (another whim of his) which he wore on his inner 
 vest, quite smart ; whereon he was voted by the 
 boatmen to be at least a friend of the Marquis of 
 Downshire, who it s^ems had a fine yacht, and was 
 well known and respected by the men of the Boulogne 
 waters. And as that nobleman's name caught Teddy's 
 ear, he understood that they took him to be the 
 Marquis himself, which tickled his vanity amazingly.
 
 Teddy, 53 
 
 Having made himself uncommonly useful, and 
 declining the offer of a magnificent turbot, on the 
 score that he had '' no wife-ee," which perhaps was 
 understood by the warm-hearted Frenchmen as say- 
 ing that he was not stopping anywhere that he could 
 cook it ; he left the storm-tost boat, and landed on 
 the Port. 
 
 Here he found no difficulty in making himself 
 understood, since almost every Frenchman in the 
 place, except the police, knows some English " as well 
 as French," and is proud of the acquirement. A 
 Frenchman can always say ^' no good," if he can ex- 
 press nothing else in English ; and, if he can say 
 " vara gud," he considers himself a sound Engli§l\ 
 scholar. Very unsuitably, the pubhc officials of 
 institutions in Boulogne, such as the Law courts, the 
 College, the Museum, being old men or imported 
 wiseacres, know no English ; but the tradesmen 
 know it, and often very sagaciously send over their 
 children to England for a couple of years, to be 
 taught English in English schools : knowing well 
 how signally such English diction will enhance their 
 trade among the Great Britons of Boulogne. It is 
 remarkable how fashionable everything English is 
 becoming in France. I see Shakespeare (King 
 Richard the Second, II, 1) speaks as if not French, 
 but Italian " fashions " were followed in England, in 
 the days of Queen Elizabeth ; and I would compare 
 the fact, that the first ^' bonnet " (in Italian, bonetto) 
 came to England from Italy, in the reign of that 
 same Queen Bess. However, now, English fashions
 
 54 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 and English everything are all the rage in France; to 
 mark a thing ^' Anglais " is to ensure its sale, whatever 
 it may be, textile stuff, or hardware, or any thing. 
 But among all the goods which our little island pro- 
 duces, none seems to be more appreciated than '' an 
 English wife," for which good credit, we may not a 
 little thank our good Queen Victoria, and the Crown 
 Princess of Prussia, and the Princess Alice of Hesse, 
 all, such good wives, prime patterns of English- 
 women. 
 
 Englishwomen are admirable, because they are 
 never unnatural. One of the most marked and 
 pleasing traits of English character, is its naturalness. 
 •Men and women share in this ; and it goes far to 
 redeem the roughness of the oft surly Briton. Other 
 specimens of humanity, among all the fraternities 
 which ought to compose the "solidarity of peoples," 
 may be mostly forced, stilted, and artificial ; John 
 Bull is natural : whether rough-hewn or polished, he 
 is a good plain reality, as substantial and true as his 
 own goods. English men and boys, women and 
 girls, have generally a natural honest air about them. 
 And I like them for it. Whatever Art may be, in 
 marble or on canvas ; Art is not so good as Nature, 
 in the breathing being. 
 
 I am a great admirer of Nature. Take a bad man 
 out into the fields, and you go far to rebuke the pas- 
 sions which have rankled in his breast. The flowers 
 remonstrate with him ; the sweet red rose shames 
 him and blushes for him : the two-faces must twit 
 him : the modest violet can abash him : and even the
 
 Teddy. 55 
 
 darling daisies give him a sound reproof. Talking of 
 daisies, I remember that when once I passed through 
 my friend Earl Stanhope's park at Chevening, in 
 Kent, I had a chat with the good old gardener, to 
 whom I pointed out how plentifully the grass was 
 dappled with the daisies ; whereon he told me that 
 this was something special, in honor of the younger 
 scions of the family, who were to return home to-mor- 
 row: "Ah," said he, " whenever the family come down 
 from London, the young people always say they ^ love 
 to look out upon the daisies ' : so we just let the 
 daisies be once looked at, and then we keep the lawns 
 smooth shorn, as usual." In this manner, homely 
 Nature and her instincts are sure to rule, in lordly 
 halls, as well as in rustic cottages ; the one as much 
 as the other : like as Shakspeare says, 
 
 " Golden lads and girls all must, 
 As chimney-sweepers, come to dust." 
 
 Even such an utter cockney as FalstafF, when dying, 
 " 'a babbled of green fields." Indeed, a modern 
 writer expressly says, " Were I condemned to an 
 eternal residence in the metropolis, the sweetest 
 jasmine, the finest moss rose, the noblest camellia, 
 the rarest, handsomest, and most odorous of exotics, 
 would have less value in my eyes, than a common 
 field daisy ; and a pot of them, when in London, I 
 generally contrive to have : counting the coming 
 buds, as a miser would count his guineas." Much 
 in the same way is it that the most mischievous boy 
 spares the redbreast ; he will shy a stone at any bird
 
 56 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 but a cock robin ; he would as soon think of letting 
 off his rusty pistol at his granny, as at a robin. In 
 the opinion of almost every boy, the act of killing a 
 robin is considered to be, as Teddy would say, down- 
 right manslaughter. This is Nature's conscience. 
 And the boy who could make a sparrow pudding of 
 cock robins, may be set down. as fit for treasons, 
 stratagems, and spoils ; let no such imp be trusted. 
 By a similar dictate of Nature, there is in many 
 places a ''superstition" against destroying isolated 
 whitethorn trees ; they smell so sweet and look so 
 pretty when "the may " is in bloom : so I suppose, 
 some knowing old Druid friend of theirs, gave out, 
 that it is " very unlucky " to extirpate them : accor- 
 dingly they stand unmolested, hedged round invisibly 
 by Mercy. 
 
 I believe, in every case, the counsel which Nature 
 gives, has on the human heart an influence which is 
 not only softening and refining, but also strengthen- 
 ing. There is a degree of obstinate regularity in 
 plants, which seems to urge us to have fixed princi- 
 ples of our own. Thus if wild sorrel be nourished 
 with nothing but sugar and water, it will secrete its 
 acid, as usual. If the wild sea-kale be planted ever 
 so far from the sea, it will continue to endow itself 
 with salt, as before. This pertinacity in a plant sug- 
 gests to us the propriety of rational perseverance. 
 If we look at a field of wheat, the grains of corn do 
 not contain flint, because it is not needed ; but the 
 stalk or straw does possess an abundance of silex 
 or flint, to make the straw stiff enough to support
 
 Teddy, 57 
 
 the ears of corn. This fact was only found out when 
 a child happened to tell Sir Humphrey Davy that if 
 two pieces of bonnet-cane were rubbed together, they 
 emitted a faint light ; which he found to be because 
 of the flint or silicious earth in the skin of canes, 
 reeds, and corn. Look at a cornfield, and think of 
 the straw being all furnished with flint, to stiffen the 
 stalk ! Seeing such contrivances in Nature around 
 us, we may well feel ourselves in the hands of an 
 Almighty Father ; and for my part, I hold, that 
 Nature is the running commentary upon God, which 
 he who runs may read. 
 
 But if to be natural, be an " English " character- 
 istic, our Irish Teddy possessed the same merit io 
 the full, and so he was a son of nature, in the best 
 sense ; especially as regards the excellent kind of 
 nature which consists in simply being good-natured.
 
 58 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 FLOSS. 
 
 " The gentle budding rose," quoth she, "behold, 
 That first scant peeping forth with morning beams, 
 Half ope, half shut, her beauties doth unfold 
 In its fair leaves, and less seen, fairer seems ; 
 And after spreads them forth, more fair and bold." 
 
 Fairfax. 
 
 While Teddy, as George's forerunner, is proceeding 
 to meet Cyril ; we must see how Cyril had, in the 
 meanwhile, been employing himself. He set out for 
 the Pier, as we saw ; and on his way, it struck him, 
 that he, like yourself, " dear reader," would not be 
 the worse for a new pair of gloves. 
 
 He entered a shop, and was served by a nice damsel, 
 with whom he chatted agreeably. She was gentle 
 and modest, or Cyril would not have wasted an extra 
 word on her ; she also saw that her customer was a 
 very handsome young man, and so she pursued the 
 little conversation with ease and pleasure. 
 
 Now here, someone, with the prurient spirit of 
 Sterne in his " Sentimental Journey," would think 
 that a flirtation of evil tendency was begun. 
 
 Some men go about the world with the uniform
 
 Floss. 59 
 
 spirit of a seducer, nor can they talk to any grisette 
 without an impure liaison in prospect ; and if they 
 have no opportunity for actual licentiousness, they 
 like to hover on the brink, and dally with the 
 thought. 
 
 Not so with Cyril. He simply thought (and why 
 should he not think ?) that a nice girl is, what she is, 
 the best part of creation. If she was respectable, he 
 could respect her ; and whether she was his equal in 
 station, or beneath him, he could enjoy the inter- 
 change of a pleasant word or two with her. Why 
 should not a sweet girl be capable of being looked at 
 with emotions as pure as when we admire anything 
 else that is delicious, such as a fragrant rose or a 
 lovely landscape ? I say it can be so, and ought to 
 be so. If some would sneer at this as platonic, or if 
 others would sourly pronounce it dangerous; Cyril 
 had his retort cut and dry in the timehonored royal 
 repartee. Evil to him who evil thinks. 
 
 Cyril could talk with any nice girl, as he would 
 with a sister, if he had still been blessed with one. 
 A lovely gentle maiden is something admirable ; and, 
 he would say, why should not what is admirable, he 
 admired ? Her sweet voice, her graceful ways, her 
 poetry of motion, her sympathetic temperament, all 
 had charms for him ; her excellencies were realities : 
 and he was too honest to be indifferent to them, and 
 too honorable to trifle with them. 
 
 Woman's wit is generally very rapid and sure in 
 taking approvingly the measure of such a man ; 
 mutual confidence is established even in the briefest
 
 6o Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 c(5lloquj : and though neither heart may flutter, a 
 tacit feeling of esteem subsists. Cyril and the pretty 
 maiden felt at least that they had an agreeable five 
 minutes' chattification ; and therefore when she 
 handed him his gloves, she opened a desk and 
 v^^rapped them in an extremely tasty and ornamental 
 paper, which seemed almost too good to be a mere 
 covering. His civility and courtesy had gained him 
 this little tribute ; nor was it quite immaterial to 
 him in its results afterwards : sometimes very small 
 matters have their bearing on our destinies. 
 
 Putting his little parcel in his coat pocket, he bade 
 good morning to the girl, whom he was never to see 
 again ; nor was he conscious that any benignity was 
 wasted on the occasion. 
 
 He had not long resumed his walk, when he re- 
 membered how he had got the gloves not to go to 
 pouch, like young opossums, but to be "on his 
 hands," as befits superficial things. So he took off' 
 the envelope, which looked too tasteful to be thrown 
 away at once ; besides, it had just been as if a silent 
 signal of goodwill : hence it was replaced in his 
 pocket, while he proceeded onwards. 
 
 One of the Folkstone packets had just come in ; 
 and the custom then (though now abolished) was, 
 for ropes to be stretched from the packet to the 
 Office where the officials searched the clothins and 
 carpet-bags of the voyagers, and examined their pass- 
 ports. "This barrier," says Cyril, "bids me to pause ; 
 and Floss, you my darling doggy, have paws already: 
 here then we both halt." Cyril looked at the in-
 
 Floss. 6 1 
 
 comers, who seemed so jcaded, after the sick transit 
 {gloria mundi) of the Channel. 
 
 It is rather a ridiculous and unfeeling rule of the 
 place, for all the visitors and loafers in general, to 
 congregate on both sides of those barrier ropes, or to 
 make a lane, and stare at the poor immigrants who 
 have to " run the gauntlet " of relentless eyes. Thus 
 the poor things land; and though they sometimes 
 have enough ^' stomach " left to rouse themselves, and 
 put on a strut and swash, as if thej/ did not mind 
 being scanned, or as if they knew they had to brave 
 the pitiless ordeal : still, they dearly do not like it, 
 especially when some demonstrative or lackadaisical 
 individual gets loudly laughed at by way of sympathy 
 and consolation. 
 
 Cyril felt rather indignant at the poor waifs and 
 strays being thus made an exhibition of in their 
 misery ; though perhaps he himself looked as much 
 like a mere spectator as any of the others, whereas 
 he was there " by accident." He thought, " I wish 
 some one of the new comers would pretend to be 
 worse than he is, and would wrap his rug round his 
 head in some invalided way, to attract particular 
 attention ; then let him fall on his face (on purpose): 
 there would be a shout of laughter : and then let 
 him rise with dignity, without the rug ruff, and tell 
 them, loud and clear, ^ Yes, ladies and gentlemen, 
 I'm a fallen fugitive, just like you.' " 
 
 The air of the Boulogne residents, while watching 
 each disembarking voyager, struck Cyril as if they 
 said, " 0, so you, and you have got away from your
 
 62 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 creditors ? " and the whole aspect of the lookers-on 
 might remind one of what we have heard of the 
 prisons of the Revolution, when decapitation was in 
 full work : for then, as the turnkey opened the door 
 to let in a new victim, all the previous prisoners 
 stared keenly at their new brother in misfortune : 
 and, if he had to go on to the '^ Secret " cells, there 
 was a murmur of pity. Like that gaunt gaze of 
 those jail birds, is the Boulogne inspection of in- 
 comers ; with this exception, that there is no sym- 
 pathy, nothing but brutal selfish curiosity, amused 
 and delighted by others' sufferings. 
 
 When there were no more passengers to be stared 
 and gaped and guffaw' d at, the ropes were dropped, 
 and Cyril passed on to the mouth of the harbour. 
 In so doing, he held an animated discussion with 
 Floss, who, as a dog of extreme intelligence, 
 answered with bounds and frisks. Whether the 
 name of the town Boulogne, or pronuncially Bul- 
 long, beginning with the sound of Bull ; must not 
 be what attracts so many of the John Bull species to 
 the spot ? to which Floss replied with an eloquent 
 bow-wow, which perhaps was as good an answer as 
 need be, and certainly as congruent as human ums, 
 and humphs, and pshaws, and what-did-you-says. 
 The bull (dog) explanation may in fact be said to be 
 borne out by the old way of spelling Boulogne ; be- 
 cause in ancient documents, the name appears as 
 " Boullongne," which surely must be, all along of the 
 John Bulls. In fact, Boulogne is fated to have par- 
 ticularly to do with perfidious Albion ; it is not only
 
 Floss, 63 
 
 bullish to begin with, but it has even got the John 
 Bull " mouth " : because, the London tavern name, 
 the Bull and Mouth, meant, the Boulogne Mouth, 
 the Boulogne harbour. So, just as much as Ports- 
 mouth, Plymouth, Yarmouth, there is Boulogne- 
 mouth ; British to the lips. 
 
 The Boulogne harbour is the sea-mouth of the 
 small river Liane, which was originally called Elna 
 or the elbow, implying that it is only fit to water the 
 spirits of people out-at-elbows. This river rises some 
 fifteen miles up the country, and affbrds " good 
 angling," as some local sportsmen (!) have the hardi- 
 hood to allege ; but, as Teddy would say, it is doubt- 
 ful whether there are any other trout except eels : it 
 is indeed a household boast in Bouloo^ne, that one 
 salmon was once seen, and not caught, at a point 
 called Pont de Briques. 
 
 The Boulogne harbour terminates in two piers, 
 each with a lighthouse ; the idea is, a French snail, 
 with its two horns, and an eye at the end of each. 
 The pier to the west is called Jet^e de V Quest, and 
 is the longer of the two, but is rather sombre and 
 dismal, being unfrequented and sequestered, and is 
 understood to be dedicated to old bachelors and dis- 
 appointed lovers; some call it the Bridge of Sighs, 
 or Pont Penniless : others style it the Pont-aux-Anes 
 (asses' bridge), and thus it just befits its Capecure 
 people, who are the offscourings of Boulogne, and 
 who are the same foils to the rest of the town, that 
 the Boulogne Britons are to the English of Eng- 
 land.
 
 64 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 But if the western pier be forlorn ; its smaller 
 neighbour, in front of it to the east, might be dubbed 
 the Trot of Joy, so jaunty and cheerful does it seem : 
 this is named the Jet^e de I'Est. It is a stone and 
 sand embankment, on which a high wooden frame- 
 work is raised, making a good promenade, which is 
 exactly six hundred yards long, if you will believe 
 deponent's legs ; if you will not, you may pace it 
 yourself. Whatever you do, you will have to pro- 
 nounce it a very pretty affair, as it curves archly 
 round like your lady-love's eyebrow. (The authori- 
 ties are said to be going to lengthen it 400 feet, 
 for which I do not vote ; as they'll only spoil my 
 pier). It is very sociable, on the footing that two 
 are company, and a third is none ; for, part of it has 
 only room enough for two to walk abreast, as if it 
 was designed for a French string of Corydons and 
 Phillises : its dimensions of width in fact are on the 
 delicious scale of ^'three steps and overboard." (How- 
 ever, alas, they are widening it, and spoiling it ; they 
 will only succeed in commonplacing it, since in a 
 concern of this sort, the narrower a thing is, the nicer, 
 and the wider the worse. 
 
 Like the broad handle to a sabre, this Jetee de 
 I'Est bulges out, not. only into a funny little light- 
 house, but also into a wider platform at the end, as if 
 for the aforesaid couples to finish off with a dance. 
 This broad end of the wooden pier, is the final piece 
 of the French " soil," to which enthusiastic bidders of 
 good-bye, rush, to wave hats and handkerchiefs, 
 while the outgoing packets career forth impetuously
 
 Floss. 65 
 
 beneath. You can sit comfortably and see all the 
 fun, as this widened end of the pier is backed all 
 round with seats ; and the waves come in bouncing 
 merrily under your feet, with the seething waters 
 visible below, between the beams and planks, through 
 the interstices, which are very convenient for a pipe 
 to drop through : and the urchins, at low water, pick 
 up the pencil-cases and sous and other sweetmeats, 
 for which this place is an excellent trap. 
 
 Cyril at present had this part of the structure all 
 to himself, since the sight-seers, (who had been giving 
 what I beg to stigmatize as the Refugees Welcome to 
 the disembarking packetites) had not yet strayed 
 thither as fast as he had, his walk and Floss's having 
 been somewhat of a scamper as regards lightness ai\cl 
 speed. There were no people here at all as yet, 
 except two old women of both sexes, who seemed to 
 be having a quarrel ; and they soon went off, to 
 quarrel elsewhere : Mem., some married people quarrel 
 all their lives. 
 
 So, now, as Cyril was alone, he made Floss sit by 
 him on the seat with all the gravity of a reasonable 
 being ; and Cyril amused himself watching the un- 
 couth manoeuvres of a small dilapidated steamer and 
 a string of big barges, which were no doubt bent on 
 some dredging operation, but certainly ought to be 
 very useful, to make up for their want of ornamental 
 attributes. 
 
 Another thing Cyril could not comprehend was, 
 that four men and one woman went out in a small 
 boat a short way, and then came back, and went out 
 
 VOL. I. . 5
 
 66 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 again. What was this for ? were they waiting for 
 some one ? or were they fishing? or were they 
 watching some ship ? The woman seemed to militate 
 against any such suppositions. 
 
 So Cyril began to lay down the law to Floss, that 
 the woman was an invalid, and they were taking her 
 in and out, just to give her a taste of sea-air and 
 motion, and to invigorate her constitution. 
 
 " You see, my dear sir," — But, while saying this 
 to the dog, Cyril perceived, from the faithful and en- 
 lightened animal's manner, that some visitors had in 
 the meantime come up. Floss was quite sagacious 
 enough to know that his master would not go on 
 declaiming to him about the valetudinarian woman 
 as he did, only that he thought there were no ob- 
 servers. So Floss looked quite abashed (a fact) at 
 his master being caught fooling, and would have 
 whined and whimpered next. 
 
 Cyril perceived from his concerned manner, that 
 there were spectators of the sporting ; so he partly 
 turned round, from noticing the woman in the boat, 
 to be conscious that two ladies had come up close 
 behind him. They now moved on a little further, to 
 one side, as if to inhale the pleasant breeze, or to 
 scan the horizon, dotted with numerous sails. 
 
 Cyril could now look at them without turning 
 rudely to stare ; and he perceived they had a smile 
 playing about their faces, as if his preaching to his 
 dog had tickled their fancy ! he imagined they would 
 have liked to "have out" a good laugh. Cyril relished 
 this appreciation of his oratorical gifts, rather than
 
 Floss. 67 
 
 otherwise ; and was not at all disconcerted, like the 
 highly susceptible Floss. 
 
 But, there was one other thing of which Cyril 
 became conscious, namely, that of all daughters of 
 Eve whom he ever beheld, he never had seen any so 
 faultlessly and peerlessly beautiful as the two before 
 him. Used as he was to the best and highest society, 
 and to see the loveliest dames and the most gorgeous 
 damsels of the courts of England, France, Austria, 
 and so on ; he confessed to himself at once, that he 
 had never seen any to compare with the two divine- 
 looking beings on whom he gazed. What were 
 they ? Were they English ? He hoped so, for the 
 credit of his country ; yet he was not sure. They 
 seemed quite different from each other, in their style 
 of beauty. * 
 
 Again, what were they ? Aunt and niece, doubt- 
 less ; and so distinguished-looking. 
 
 The elder lady was quite majestic in appearance ; 
 she was most richly attired : and Cyril especially 
 noticed that she wore an ornament above her fore- 
 head of a very unusual kind. It was a narrow 
 golden strip, pointing a little upwards, somewhat like 
 part of a diadem, and resembling the frontlet or 
 tiara which we may have seen accorded to Diana or 
 Venus, or some other fair goddess of olden time. 
 This aigrette had an antique aspect, and seemed to 
 be studded wdth large pearls. Such an embelHshment 
 might look theatrical, or tawdry, or simply queer, on 
 some personages in the daylight ; but on its wearer, 
 it seemed to be singularly becoming. It served as if
 
 68 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 to stamp or mark her to be what she was^ a woman 
 of rare and extraordinary perfections. 
 
 But what words then can fitly depict the wondrous 
 beauty of the younger lady ? 
 
 It is useless to try to describe what is really inde- 
 scribable. Like as Agamemnon, when his daughter 
 Iphigenia was about to be sacrificed, at Aulis, covered 
 his eyes with his robe, (as Euripides describes, and as 
 the painter Timanthes represented,) placing a veil 
 over his face, as if his emotions must transcend all 
 portrayal ; so also the unutterable loveliness of the 
 young lady in question may mark the limits of lan- 
 guage, and must be covered with the gauze of silence, 
 and left to imagination. 
 
 Not one word shall you hear (at present, at least,) 
 about the color of her eyes or hair, the style of her 
 profile, or the anatomy of her dimples. You shall 
 b6 vouchsafed only a very general outline of her 
 charms. One thing you may be permitted to know, 
 is, that she was remarkably, brilliantly fair ; the 
 radiance of her complexion was quite dazzling, not 
 with the dull dead white of sallowing ^' ivory," 
 which is the stock simile for a very fair skin, but like 
 cream, before it clots or yellows ; yes, cream, which 
 (please to pardon the apparent bathos) is a much 
 better and (though somewhat bucolic) a more truth- 
 ful emblem, than dead and ghastly ivory, or chilling 
 blinding snow. Commend me to fresh cream, as 
 the model metaphor for a matchless maiden's skin. 
 
 Then again, if you promise to behave yourself, you 
 may be allowed to learn, that her height was that
 
 I^loss. 69 
 
 sweet medium altitude, which is neither short nor 
 tall, and which I fix at exactly five feet three inches. 
 This height is tall enough to be compatible with dig- 
 nity, without being lengthy and awkward ; it also is 
 short enough to be lovable, and nestling, without 
 being too little or insignificant. When such a figure 
 is not at all heavy or ^' stout," and yet is rounded, 
 and not too sylphlike ; the literal quintessence of 
 female loveliness is attained : absolute excellence in 
 every inch. 
 
 Our heroine's features were perfection itself, but 
 her form was equally perfect ; and the form, though 
 it cannot dispense with the beauty of face, is almost 
 a more exquisite charm. Though indeed, it jnay 
 often be observed that whereas ugly faces and dumpy 
 or scraggy bodies usually go together, so also do 
 pretty faces and beautiful figures often accompany 
 each other. Is it because Nature, when she has a 
 nice piece of w^ork in hand, wishes to carry it out, 
 with consistency and taste? This fact indeed de- 
 serves elucidation ; and I recommend it to the Pretty 
 Girl " Section " of the next Congress of the British 
 Association for the advancement of (everything but) 
 Science, or whatever they call themselves ; and I am 
 sure it would be more interesting than their ordinary 
 maudlin topics. 
 
 The young lady's figure was most consummately 
 beautiful, and very youthful ; her costume also was 
 quite juvenile, almost betokening the schoolgirl, and 
 yet all the wealth of incipient womanhood was dis- 
 coverable ; her girlish skirts were short enough to
 
 70 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 show her finely turned ankle, and noble instep, and 
 faultless feet. 
 
 Perhaps the most wondrous thing about her, was, 
 the manner in which she stood ; it was her mode or 
 style of standing : slie stood as if she had just come 
 down from heaven on wings, and as if she might at 
 any moment go hack on wings again. This ethereal 
 lightness and upwardness (so to speak) of a youthful 
 figure, even when not in motion, and seen in the 
 mode of standing and planting the foot, is exceedingly 
 attractive, and also excessively rare ; it is decidedly 
 an angelical attribute : and you may set it down in 
 your tablets, or (as an old lady said) your " Merry- 
 Andrew " (memorandum) book, that our beauteous 
 girl was a female angel, and no mistake. 
 
 As to her age, you would at first deem her only 
 about sixteen ; but, when you looked a second time, 
 seventeen would be your verdict. 
 
 She being standing, and Cyril sitting, he looked 
 up to her while her glorious apparition stood against 
 the soft blue sky. Seeing her so suddenly, all his 
 powers of admiration were as if taken by storm, and 
 he felt as if he could almost fall in love with her 
 without more ado ; and perhaps the only thing that 
 saved him, was a general sense of all the professions 
 of determined bachelorhood (at least for several years 
 to come) which he had been wont to make to himself. 
 His resolve used to be, "Catch me falling in love with 
 any girl, however nice ! my plan is, to keep clear, and 
 free, and travel, and see the world well, so jolly : and 
 then come home, brown and sensible, and ' still
 
 Floss, 7 1 
 
 handsome,' say thirty, or thirty-two. Then I'll get 
 into Parliament, for my own borough or county ; 
 and then I suppose I must marry, as my dear and 
 idolized parents would have wished it." Thus had he 
 been accustomed to descant to himself and to his friend 
 George. So, with the memory of all such protesta- 
 tions full upon him, he could not of course concede 
 the possibility of his falling in love at first sight, even 
 with such a prodigy as this glorious girl, whom he 
 had never seen before a few seconds ago. Where- 
 fore he took refuge in the innocent duplicity of say- 
 ing to himself how well it was that G-eorge Thornton 
 was not here ; for, (ha, ha,) George would be all on 
 fire at once ! This was all very well for Cyril Gros- 
 venor to say, because he always thought (and it was 
 the case) that George was more easily captivated 
 than himself; nevertheless, the question now is, 
 whether Master Cyril, by saying George would he 
 burned, did not indicate, that Cyril himself was 
 already singeing ? Certainly Cupid must think he 
 has gained a great point towards taming so indomit- 
 able a heart as Cyril's, when the confession is wrung 
 out, perforce, that the girl now seen is more beau- 
 tiful than ever was beheld, or even imagined before. 
 
 Nor does such sudden love augur ill, of itself, for 
 future happiness. It is customary indeed for snuffy 
 old fogies to characterize " Love at first sight " as 
 synonymous wdth all that is rash, reckless, and im- 
 pulsive. But it may be doubted whether their objec- 
 tion is founded on any sound principles of philosophy. 
 The suddeness of admiration does not prove it to be
 
 7 2 Jessie of Boulogfie. 
 
 injudicious. I see a fine landscape for the first time; 
 I admire it hugely : I may wish to live there always: 
 and why not ? Or, I see a superb building ; I never 
 saw the like before : I am enchanted with its sym- 
 metry : I want no further scrutiny, though of course 
 the oftener I behold it, the more it meets my taste. 
 Why may not a beauteous girl be loved at once alike ? 
 Certainly, if a man is struck with a pretty face, and 
 continues devoted to the girl, all the same, after he 
 has perhaps found out that she is a, mere mindless 
 selfish flirt ; he is more remarkable for constancy 
 than for strength of judgment. But we may just as 
 well suppose that the girl has not only a lovely per- 
 son, but also a good disposition. If so, the warmth 
 of sudden love is more likely to ensure happiness. 
 Happy love is love that lasts. Lifelong love is life- 
 long happiness. But, where " love " is a cold calcu- 
 lated affair, the first quarrel can extinguish what little 
 there was of it, for ever ; and then a loveless life is a 
 life of woe. But, a love that was once fervent and 
 fiery, even if it subsides, can be revived in its inten- 
 sity, so as never to be lost as long as life lasts. 
 
 On the same principle, it is better, when young 
 people are passionately attached, (and when all due 
 consents are obtained,) to " let them marry," almost 
 hurriedly, rather than have such delays interposed as 
 are usually exacted by grim guardians ; better, much 
 better, for marriage-settlements to be informal, or 
 trusted to honor, rather than that the fond affection, 
 Avhich is more valuable than money, and a better 
 security than prenuptial signatures, should be frit-
 
 tered away by weeks and months of lovekilling pro- 
 crastination. Hope deferred makes the heart sick ; 
 and possibly the heart may ahnost sicken of the whole 
 object : while mind and body and affection and all 
 are embittered and attenuated, by keeping two fresh 
 young bosoms, which belong to each other, needlessly 
 and heartlessly apart. Marry them, while their 
 hearts are warm, and their love will last for life ; and 
 such love is the greatest earthly blessing the pair in 
 question can obtain. 
 
 I say then, What is love at first sight ? A young 
 man sees a maiden who to him seems incomparable, 
 and he feels at once that the possession of her would 
 be his greatest conceivable gift ; there is no harm in 
 this : he gets acquainted with her : they are soon 
 married : and they love each other, with ardor and 
 with happiness, to the foot of the hill of life. 
 
 Compare this with the contrary course, for instance: 
 — A young man goes to visit at a friend's house down 
 in the country : he is introduced to a young lady : 
 she is pretty and agreeable : but he is not at all par- 
 ticularly struck with her : he talks with her, he 
 plays chess with her on a wet day, and he turns over 
 her music, but his thoughts are much more about the 
 hunting and shooting in the vicinity. She merely 
 thinks he is a " nice young man." Gradually, how- 
 ever, like as electricity is elicited by rubbing, the 
 two get to like one another, " love " is declared, and 
 "the match" is arranged; five months afterwards 
 elapse at least, while the nasty lawyers' clerks are 
 whistling over the deeds and documents : by that
 
 74 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 time both the young people have changed their 
 minds : yet honor and listlessness bid the project go 
 on, though the doubtful love has quite cooled. So, 
 the marriage is solemnized ; but there is after it, as 
 before it, little warmth of love, settling down into 
 something less than liking, if not positive dislike : 
 and the subsequent jars, and chills, and broils of an 
 aimless existence, prove how sad a thing is the lack 
 of love. 
 
 Accordingly, I stand up for love at first sight, and 
 speedy union ; and I know I have human nature on 
 my side, nor is human nature far off from common 
 sense. " Them's my sentiments " ; and I know you 
 think me right, even though you may try to shake 
 your head over it, solemnly and ominously^ as a 
 piece of hypocrisy due to the scarecrow solemnities 
 of society. 
 
 But you are not to imagine that the ladies were 
 waiting all the while these philosophical reflections 
 have had to be recited. You must conceive all the 
 intercalary meditations to occupy only one minute 
 and a half of " mean " time. 
 
 The fair girl had as yet scarcely got her mouthful 
 of fresh air ; and Cyril's keen and sharpening glance 
 could trace that she was aware he was looking at her 
 and admiring her. She must have perceived, when 
 she stood, before, so close to him, that lie was very 
 good-looking, merry, and cheerful, and every inch a 
 gentleman. No less he admired her ; and she felt he 
 did. Nothing is more curious than this conscious- 
 ness which women possess. Even when they are
 
 Floss. 75 
 
 looking away from a man, they can be aware that he 
 is staring and adoring. It is a sort of feminine free- 
 masonry or sensitive second-sight. 
 
 Possibly the young lady was a little put out, by 
 Cyril's homage ; such an alternation (as she had 
 before been smiling at him, and now was uneasy 
 under his gaze) is not unnatural, where a stranger is 
 concerned. It would seem as if she said gently to 
 her companion. Shall we now retrace our steps? 
 For, both ladies now wheeled round from contem- 
 plating the sea, and proceeded to return back along 
 the narow pier. 
 
 They had to pass Cyril ; and no sooner had they just 
 got beyond him, than the younger lady dropped her 
 handkerchief. This evidently was not done inten- 
 tionally, but was merely caused by a slight feeling of 
 confusion, owing to the artlessness of modesty and 
 youth. The fault was all Floss's, or at least Cyril's 
 in his having been holding forth to Floss, and making 
 the maiden at first smile, and now be somewhat em- 
 barrassed, as there was still no one else on the plat- 
 form. Let '^ pretty maids " know, and take notice 
 that it is sometimes a hazardous pastime to indulge 
 in even a suppressed smile at handsome young men. 
 I deal in morals ; and this is one of them. 
 
 However it was, the beauty dropped her hand- 
 kerchief, and was moving away, unconscious of the 
 loss. Floss saw it, as he saw everything ; and Floss 
 was jumping down, with the gentlemanly instinct of 
 a wellbred canine quadruped, to run and bring the 
 lady her goods. But Cyril quietly stopped him.
 
 76 Jessie of Boulog:ie, 
 
 Why was this ? was it that he would not have his 
 dog rob him of a privilege he wished to monopo- 
 lize to himself? Hardlj so. Or was it the old 
 '' bachelor " rebellion of not wanting to meddle with 
 beauty, lest he be hopelessly caught ? Probably he 
 could not analyze the feeling himself ; and we may 
 state it for him, that he preferred to wait a moment, 
 to see what would ensue. The ladies however moved 
 softly on and on. No time was to be lost. So he 
 picked up the elegant little white article ; and his eye 
 *' chanced " to see on it some crest which he did not 
 stop to smooth out a crease to examine : but above 
 the crest he descried the letter E. 
 
 How ever is the handkerchief to be restored ? He 
 might follow them to their residence or hotel, and so 
 on ; but anything of that kind would not bear con- 
 sideration, as it would be unpardonably intrusive. Is 
 he then to run after them, and simply give it back ? 
 But for a " great " man, with a dog too, to set out 
 running along a quivering causeway, after two 
 strange ladies, alone in the sea, would look ridi- 
 culous, and would be enough to frighten them ; they 
 would think him m^d : dog ditto. If he ran, they 
 would run too ; and how absurd that would be. 
 What is he to do ? 
 
 " I have it," said Cyril to himself, as he bethought 
 himself of the pretty glove-girl's paper. " Thou, 
 Floss, shalt be the Mercury or god of thieves, (St. 
 Latro, my lad,) to deliver thy master out of his 
 dilemma, and to enable this paragon to recoup her 
 property."
 
 Floss, 77 
 
 So Cyril took the paper, and placed the handker- 
 chief in it, so as not to be soiled by the dog's mouth, 
 yet leaving a corner out, enough to let it be seen 
 what the dog carried. Floss took hold of it tenderly 
 and drily ; and then, as if he quite comprehended 
 " the situation," he walked briskly, without running, 
 and soon got in front of the ladies, when he stopped 
 before them, and held up the handkerchief in the 
 paper, in his mouth, with the utmost decorum and 
 aifability. 
 
 The ladies were much amused, and they almost 
 laughed outright, in spite of themselves : especially 
 when good Floss "went on with his tricks," and 
 threw himself into a sitting posture, with his front 
 legs in the air, so as to let his mouth be more easily 
 reached. The pretty girl herself took hold of the 
 paper, and saw how it had shielded her handkerchief 
 from the dog's mouth ; and as the paper was now a 
 little soiled and crumpled, she of course let it drop. 
 The wind at once blew it through the open side of the 
 pier, into the sea. Such was the end of the tasteful 
 paper of the *' pair of gloves." Still, it had done its 
 duty ; and it would be well, " dear reader," if as 
 much could be said of you. I record its history, as 
 I am a believer in the potency of little things ; 
 knowing as I do, how often small incidents create 
 great ones. 
 
 " What a dear nice dog,'' said the beauty, or seemed 
 to say, patting its delighted head. Thedadies felt 
 they must also take some notice of the dog's master ; 
 so they looked back, and slightly curtsied to him, by
 
 78 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 way of thanks. Cyril of course was now standing, 
 and he acknowledged the ladylike salute, by taking 
 off his hat with much grace. They passed on ; Floss 
 returned to Cyril : and Cyril remained where he 
 was, for a while, feeling as if a new world had opened 
 to him. 
 
 Nor is a young man the worse, for having some 
 fondness for a fine girl introduced thus into his 
 interior. See a great brute of a big schoolboy, how 
 bearish he is to his sisters, how selfish and " nasty " 
 he is, how keoutish and untidy and uncomfortable ; 
 but, let a fair face smite him, and at once his brutality 
 is done away : he is fascinated into decency ,and 
 kindliness. Even one so polite as Cyril, is the better 
 for Cupid's arrow. 
 
 In fact, man's morals and manners may often 
 learn a lesson from "irrational" creatures. Thus, I 
 do not know a better lesson in gallantry and correct 
 gentlemanly courtesy, than is given by a cock 
 hummingbird. If a young man were deficient in the 
 finer and more generous sensibilities, I would posi- 
 tively advise him to go to school to the hummingbird 
 for a few minutes. What does the ruby-throated 
 hummingbird do .'* He constructs a fairy nest, in 
 which his wife lays an ^gg about as big as a small 
 pea. But, observe ; the choicest morsel of the day 
 to these beauteous little birds, is either the early 
 morning, when the fresh flowers are most luscious to 
 them, and racy with the dew : or else, the sunset 
 hour, when the scents are pouring forth. So, at 
 those very times, the male bird (who can and does
 
 Floss, 79 
 
 actually thrash an eagle) regularly relieves the 
 female in the process of incubation, in order that 
 she as a lady may range about at the most agreeable 
 moment, and regale herself among other ladies, with 
 the best dainties (insects) that then throng the honied 
 buds. This is just what the ladies like. If this is 
 not a pattern, not only to husbands, but to all gentle- 
 men in general, and to you, old fellow, in particular, 
 I know not what could be. Rely upon it, man's 
 heart is the better for being in love . Man, without 
 woman's love, is an imperfect being. He who has 
 yet to love, has yet to fulfil one of the very highest 
 purposes of his existence. 
 
 At all events, this being Monday, September the 
 first, 1862, the day for partridge shooting to com- 
 mence, Cyril felt that a far nobler "game " than any 
 other that could be opened to his ambition, had now 
 presented itself ; being no less an aim than to win 
 the affections of an immortal soul, shrined in such a 
 beauteous casket : to strive for the heart of one who 
 might be his pride and his bliss in time, and his com- 
 panion throughout eternity. What better, nobler 
 earthly object, could any son of Adam have before 
 him .? 
 
 At present however Cyril was chiefly conscious of 
 shackles and bonds ; so he said, '^ A slave am I, the 
 serf of symmetry, the bondman of beauty : but I 
 suppose I had best bear it ' cheerily, ' ; and ac- 
 cordingly I hereby sing for myself, on the deck of 
 this wooden pier, the slave-song of the sea, as extant 
 in the Hecuba chorus of Euripides." Cyril trilled
 
 8o yessie of Boulogne, 
 
 it, to his own music, in the exquisite Greek accents, 
 " Aura, pontias aura," etc. ; which I may here trans- 
 late in the following (original) shape : — 
 
 Zephyr, zephyr of the sea, That dost waft the gal- 
 lant free Vessels on the bounding brine ; Where 
 wilt thou lorn Me consign ? Must I, to what serfdom's 
 home, As a chattel, captive come ? Dorian bourne ? 
 or Phthian coast. Where Apidanus, they boast. Sire 
 of fairest waters, yields Richness to the cultured 
 fields ? To the Isle else render'd o'er Pensive by the 
 naval oar. Hapless in those halls to pine First where 
 Palm and Bay did twine Boughs round loved Latona 
 wide, Of heaven's progeny the pride ? 'Mong the 
 Delian maidens more Am I destined to adore Blest 
 Diana in the glow Of her golden Snood and Bow ? 
 Or, in Athens city great. On an orange robe of state. 
 Shall I for Minerva's car Yoke the prancing steeds 
 of war To her chariot, broider'd bright On the 
 saffron vestments dight ? Or the triumphs must I 
 trace O'er our kindred Titans' race Whom the son of 
 Saturn's ire Doth embed in ambient fire ? Woe is me ! 
 my babes ! I moan Ye, my parents ; and my home 
 Which lies razed, enwrapt in smoke, Dominated by 
 thy stroke, Argive brand ! the lot is mine, Menial in 
 an alien clime : Leaving Asia, Europe's slave. Chang- 
 ing Hymen for the grave.
 
 yesste, 8 1 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 JESSIE. 
 
 " Wise, beauteous, good ! O, every grace combined, 
 That charms the eye, that captivates the mind ; 
 Stin let me gaze, and every c»re beguile. 
 Gaze on that cheek where all the Graces smile." 
 
 Dr. Beattie. 
 
 "Now," said Cyril, as he left the pier, "is it*not 
 too bad, that I, who came here free, should thus 
 leave it a slave ? for, a slave I am, so far as this, 
 that I never shall be able to get that grand girl 
 out of my head." 
 
 He farther soliloquized, " Who can she be ? O, 
 the handkerchief was marked 'E.' Does that 
 mean only Emma or Emily ? No ; for, as the letter 
 E was above a crest, it v/ould be the initial of a 
 surname : perhaps it is Edmonds or Epps : if it 
 was Evelyn, it would do ; but, only fancy such a 
 girl being Miss Edwards ! " 
 
 Thus Cyril went on teazing himself, as persons 
 in his predicament always do. He says, " I wish I had 
 looked closer at the crest. Yes, it is all very well, 
 and all very fine, for Shakespeare to ask, ' What's 
 in a name ? ' but, a name is what I am hard set t j 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 discover this very moment. I shall have no peace 
 till I find out her name, or- at least make out a 
 ' proper ' name for her, which I may embalm in a 
 sonnet or acrostic, or place at the head of my best 
 wishes; because she is undoubtedly not only one 
 to wish for, but also to wish every blessing on. 
 
 " Name, name," said Cyril ; " I must have a name 
 for her. No mere fancy sobriquet can suffice ; no 
 Ethelinda nor Euthalie nor Everkississa. It must 
 be a designation significative of the place where I 
 first saw her. I am afraid 'W is Edwards; but, 
 that leaves me free to invent a Christian name for 
 her. I cannot call her (after the pier) peeress, or 
 peerless, or Peri, or even Pearl, which would be 
 flat, stale, and unprofitable ; it would be as bad as 
 to call her Molly after the mole, or Jettette after 
 the jetee or jetty. I might indeed preserve Jetee 
 in the pretty appellation Jeannette, by resorting 
 to the principle whereby Shakespeare's brave Fluel- 
 len discovers a similitude between Macedon and 
 Monmouth ; but ' Jeannette ' would require me to 
 be a Jeannot, with the 'beautiful cockade : ' so, this 
 will not do. I can get nothing out of Boulogne or 
 Bononia, in the shape of a lady's name, except B 
 for Bellona, which would imply a virago ; or Bona, 
 and this wants Dea after it : not but that ' Dea ' 
 would do, so far as the goddess compliment goes : 
 but then, my Bona would suggest bones and scrags, 
 or at least that I was distracted about some bonne 
 or nursemaid. 
 
 " So, I see I must select the name Jessie, which is
 
 Jessie. 83 
 
 decidedly a pretty name. It is sufficiently romantic 
 for the occasion, coming I suppose from the Jewish 
 Jessica, and the patriarchal Jesse (which meant 
 Rich) ; the name has also a rich sort of Scoto- 
 Gallic flavor, and therefore suits a Britannic lass 
 (British she must be) met in France: moreover, 
 'Jessie' is endearing, and seems almost the same 
 as darling. Yes, it must be Jessie. 
 
 " And if you ask me, Mr. Floss, for, it concerns 
 you, old fellow, what has ' Jessie ' to do with the 
 locality of the pier ? now up to the top of the" 
 cliff am I going, and there, with the whole place, 
 pier and all, under my feet, I mean to sit down and 
 indoctrinate you ; yes, you, sir, as regards the very 
 point, in fine style. So, prepare yourself for a 
 learned dissertation." • 
 
 Cyril went up one of the lanes that lead from 
 the Port, at the back of the Douanes, up the hill. 
 One of these streets, or rather gullies, used to be 
 gaily named the Rue du Pied Gaillard, that is, 
 Light-footed street. It is very steep, diversified 
 with flights of steps, which require a " light " and 
 nimble " foot," not only to scale the ascent, but also 
 to escape the drips and slop-streams ; the street 
 being made almost a cavern or tunnel, by the thick 
 festoons of (tanning) nets, hung out of the top 
 windows. 
 
 The old appropriate name has lately been altered 
 stolidly to Rue du Fort en Bois. This allusion to 
 the Wooden Fort or Block-house is a weak remem- 
 brance of the flotilla. Such changes, so dismal and
 
 84 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 forlorn, are untrue to the spirit of the place. It 
 may be observed that all the old names of the 
 Boulogne streets were aboriginally conceived in a 
 spirit of merriment or witticism ; thus one street 
 was named Ecoute s'il Pleut (listen if it rains). 
 Yes, the great genius, or succession of geniuses, to 
 whom a grateful posterity will have to ascribe the 
 primitive nomenclature of the Boulogne streets, 
 had at the time of conception been evidently under 
 the influence of a jovial planet, possibly Jove or 
 Jupiter himself, whence the French holiday is 
 Thursday or Jeudi, the jeu-day or play-day, of Jeu 
 or /upiter, the great St. TTap'abone. Thus it is 
 curious that both heathenism and popery should 
 turn '' holy "-days into mere pla3^-days. Another 
 Boulogne Street was called Kue du Eenard, or the 
 fox street, as if foxy fellows dwelt there, and so 
 they do. Another street was called Rue des Pipots, 
 which some say means an order of friars ; others 
 allege the word Pipots means Play-places or gaming- 
 houses. Though now the names of the streets are 
 altering according to the mayor's goosey-gander wis- 
 dom, yet strangely this horrible name Pipots re- 
 mains unaltered, whereas it is the only one that 
 might have been changed with advantage. In the 
 year 1505, it was called Rue d'Aubin, and in 1792 
 Rue Mably ; either would now be an improvement : 
 the name was " Rue du Pipot " in 1550. I may 
 here compare what Victor Hugo says of the Rue 
 des Postes in Paris: "This street was inhabited by 
 Potters in the thirteenth century, and its real name
 
 Jessie, 85 
 
 is Rue des Pots." Let us go on now with Boulogne. 
 Another street was Rue du Pot d'Etain, as if the tin- 
 pot was tied to the above renard's tail. This was old 
 Boulogne wit. But now these lively reminiscences 
 are doomed, and everything must allude to the first 
 Napoleon's flotilla, the wooden fort, and the block- 
 head block-house. It seems as if the Boulogne 
 people could never get the futile flotilla out of their 
 heads. One of the best names was Rue tant perd 
 tant paye, or paie, that is, Pay for what time you 
 waste ; which was the arrangement made with his 
 workmen by a comical old stonemason when build- 
 ing part of the street. The old name Rue '' Tamper- 
 tampay," occurs in a document of the year 1618 ; 
 it had a nice Anglican- Gottam flavor in the " take 
 care of your pockets " style. But now it is the 
 long and stupid " Rue de I'amiral Bruix." But, 
 who is or was Bruix ? "Well, he was a flotilla 
 admiral. At all events, the title " I'amiral " ought 
 to have been left out ; Rue Bruix might have been 
 mannikin fame : but what would be thought of 
 the self-extinguisher if it was found necessary to 
 say, Admiral Nelson Street ? In 1505 the name 
 of the street was " la Grande Folic ; " prophetic of 
 course of our admiral's flotilla. And they might 
 have let it stand as Folic, or Damperdampay, or 
 Cuss, or anything, when the abominable name 
 Pipots is still allowed to survive. 
 
 But now again we have to deal with the fusty 
 little street, which I, yes, I, setting the mayor and 
 all at defiance, am determined, I will not call Fort-
 
 86 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 en-Bois, and which I contumaciously persist in 
 calling Rue du Pied Gaillard. Cyril went up it, 
 with truly a light gay step, and so did Floss. The 
 street is supposed to be a short cut ; and thus you 
 get up, by anything but a short cut, to a road 
 which leads you round to the end of the town, 
 above the Imperial Hotel, where the ragged cliffs 
 beetle to the sea. 
 
 The view from this point is very pleasing, with 
 the white cliffs of England in the distance. And 
 the reports of the cannon practising in England, 
 are constant, and singularly loud ; the huge boom of 
 the British artillery, so far off, is quite a lion's 
 smothered growl, rolling menacingly up the French 
 soil. Here there is a small (second-hand^ statue of 
 the first Napoleon, with his arms crossed, and look- 
 ing, or rather scowling, at England ; the inscription 
 however with an awkward ingenuity recognizes the 
 English alliance now happily subsisting. Never- 
 theless the statue commemorates Nap as he stood 
 when he planned his Invasion of England ; so, it is 
 fair of us to say that he looks " as if he could not 
 help it," since he never was able even to attempt 
 his projected landing on our isle : though he had a 
 medal (there is one in the Boulogne Museum) got 
 ready, with this lying legend, "Invasion of England. 
 Struck at London, in 1804," (" Descente en Angle- 
 terre. Frappee a Londres, 1804.") The struck at 
 London was a racy fib, worthy of the Moniteur or 
 Menteur (liar) of that day. 
 
 Some Frenchmen now try to represent that the
 
 yessie, 87 
 
 Invasion was a mere blind for other objects, and 
 was never seriously intended by Number One 
 Napoleon. But there are abundant traces of the 
 contrary around Boulogne. There were two hun- 
 dred thousand prime troops massed at that time in 
 the neighbourhood ; and the flotilla was getting 
 ready, not only at Boulogne, but also on both sides, 
 one way as far as Etaples, and the other way as far 
 as Ambleteuse. These minor preparations seem to 
 me to prove that the flotilla was intended for use ?* 
 they are even stronger proofs than the central ar- 
 rangements at Boulogne. A considerable harbour 
 was formed inside the mouth of the river at Amble- 
 teuse, capable of containing an immense numljer of 
 small ships. Another harbour was constructed in 
 like manner, very cleverly, at Wimereux, which is 
 only two miles from Boulogne up the coast on the 
 Calais side; a small river or rather stream falls 
 there into the sea, with a very narrow mouth, just 
 behind which, a large basin has been cleared out. 
 It could hold no less than 170 vessels of the flotilla ; 
 it had beams and posts all round, on which, planks 
 could be laid, so that when the basin got filled at 
 high water, the troops could march direct into the 
 boats or transports, and be off to England. Most 
 of the huge beams still remain, all round the 
 Wimereux harbour ; though they are mouldering 
 fast : one wonders they are not converted into fire- 
 wood, or "St. Helena" snuff-boxes. The harbour 
 looks now nearly filled up with nmd ; but this is of 
 course the deposit of the last half century. It
 
 88 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 could be cleared out again ; and one could imagine 
 a fine manufactory or useful establishment occupying 
 the edge of the harbour, very advantageously, and 
 creating a thriving town, where now all is wretched 
 and poverty-stricken to the last degree. The 
 beams, standing high up, and angular, around the 
 harbour, have a strangely gaunt and ghastly aspect ; 
 they look like a cluster of gibbets, the rotten ini- 
 quity of the past. 
 
 May the world never see any more of the like ! 
 may the " hatchet be buried " on the path of 
 England and France, and may eternal amity prevail 
 between the two countries, the Cock and the Bull, 
 who are I think natural friends. It is however 
 gravely startling for an enthusiastic and patriotic 
 Briton to rest on one of the crumbling beams of 
 Wimereux, and think for what purpose they were 
 erected. The " Invasion " was the greatest mistake 
 the great Napoleon ever made ; the Flotilla was F, 
 a Failure : the enterprise having been simply and 
 literally impracticable. 
 
 These may be taken as some of the sensations of 
 Cyril's mind, while he looked for a moment at the 
 statue which a whimsical English innkeeper erected, 
 and which represents Napoleon Buonaparte turning 
 such a stern glance at England. 
 
 Opposite the statue, and quite at the edge of the 
 cliff*, are some remains of an ancient Tower. Some 
 of the best antiquarians (including myself) think 
 these remains are not the niere English additions, 
 as Barthelemy wildly imagines ; but are part of
 
 Jessie. 89 
 
 the original erections by the Roman emperor 
 Calio[ula, when he also made a show of invading 
 Britain, but contented himself with arraying his 
 warlike engines on the French shore, and bidding 
 his soldiers fill their helmets with sea-shells. In 
 Butler's Hudibras (canto 3) Caligula is paid off 
 well, by being described as a hero who " Took 
 crabs and oysters prisoniers. And lobsters, 'stead of 
 cuirassiers; Engaged his legions in fierce tussles With 
 periwinkles, prawns, and mussels : And led his 
 troops with furious gallops To charge whole regiments 
 of scallops." The Tower in question bore the name 
 of the Tour d' Ordre, which has long been commonly 
 regarded as a corruption of the " Latin " words 
 "Turris Ardens," meaninsr. Burning- tower, that is, 
 a pharos, beacon, or lighthouse. Montfau^on thinks 
 Tour d' Ordre may be resolved into Turris Ardens. 
 However, this would be too bad Latin to be pos- 
 sible; for, though Lucan speaks of Ardens Africa, 
 and Virgil of " ardentes oculi," or glowing eyes, and 
 so on, the poetical idea is that the things themselves 
 were ablaze, and thus such a phrase as Turris 
 Ardens would intimate that the tower itself was 
 fuel, and was set alight. Worse than the Latin, the 
 local authorities, who, like all Frenchmen, are "rerum 
 novarum cupidi," or fond of (small) change, have 
 recently set to work to " rectify " the name Tour d' 
 Ordre into " Tour d' Odre." The reason given is the 
 wonderfully silly one, that a farm in the neighbour- 
 hood is called Odre ; but clearly, the farm must have 
 been called after the Tower ; nor would it be any
 
 QO Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 wonder for farmers to pervert the spelling: and 
 surely the Tower itself, as " Ordre/' could keep its 
 own name for itself, more safely and aptly, than 
 could its name be kept for it, by any mere adjoin- 
 ing " farm," Fancy altering Berkeley castle into 
 Burkeleigh, because a farmer near was Burke, and 
 his wife Leigh. As bad as either the Latin or the 
 farm, is the additional reason given us, that M. 
 Henry " the Historian of Boulogne " thinks the 
 word Ordre is the "Celtic" Odre, meanino^ shore. 
 But the Celtic for shore is not Odre, but OR; 
 whence comes our word shore; (compare ora, the 
 coast.) In the Celtic word for shore or limit, there 
 is no D ; and the Celtic sense shore would specially 
 require the retention of E, : so little reason is there 
 to set up Odre against Ordre, as shore. Nor would 
 a tower on the shore be called Shore Tower; it 
 would be called anything else but this. Even the 
 French ardeur, fire, would have been a better solu- 
 tion. Yet, on Henry's mistake, the municipal sages 
 think themselves so clever! to change the old 
 Ordre to the new Odre. I beg to propound that 
 the Tour d' Ordre, is neither Ardens nor Odre, but 
 merely Older, old-man. I would assume that Ordre 
 is not the primary name, but was a mediaeval 
 epithet, like So-and-So's Folly, given after the 
 Tower had dwindled into a mere humpy, look- 
 ing like a tall but decrepit old man. It is recog- 
 nised A.D. 856 by '^ St." Folcuin as Pharus Odrans ; 
 this is just how a Frenchman handles foreign 
 nomenclature : thus the term was an exotic one,
 
 Jessie, g i 
 
 like as all round Boulogne, places have the letter 
 W, which is not a French letter, and is attributable 
 to the English and Flemish admixtures. The 
 German for old is alt, alter ; the Anglo-Saxon is eald, 
 and ealdor : and the English elder or older or oldster, 
 is a more antique form, as preserving better the 
 pure parent Celtic word oliad, which means, hind- 
 most, remote in time, old. Ordre thus is older, 
 that is, the elder, or Old Man. And in the map 
 which was drawn for Henry the Eighth, by- 
 Holbein, the Tower is actually marked as "The 
 Old Man ; " such is the name of the Boulogne 
 tower on the map: and this is decisive. Ordre was 
 Older, or Elder, the Old-Man Tower, the tall jDut 
 tottering ruin ; (like as Holborn comes from Old- 
 Bourne). This explanation merely supposes a 
 mutation of what the grammar people call the 
 " liquids " R and L ; such a change is common in all 
 languages. Thus all philologist pedants tell us that 
 the Greek for a lily, Leirion, with R, is the same as 
 the Latin Lilium, with L ; the Spanish is Lirio. 
 The '* Attic " Greek dialect has heaps of words with 
 a false R, put for L. And it is from the Latin 
 Luscinia, a nightingale, that there comes the French 
 Rossignol ; and the bird's names in Italian and 
 Spanish, equally change L into R : the Portuguese 
 is Roxinol. Unquestionably, it is the Greek apos- 
 tolos, an apostle, which becomes the Latin apostolus, 
 and this subsides into the Frencli apotre ; here T is 
 followed by a spurious R, which R figures instead 
 of the genuine L. A very good instance for my
 
 92 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 view of Ordre as Older, is the French orme, an elm ; 
 orme comes from the Latin ulmus, and the L of 
 ulmus sinks into the E, of orme ; why may not then 
 the L of older have sunk into the R of ordre ? We 
 may see how ready the French mouth was to 
 boggle at L coming after an initial vowel, in all 
 such words as the Latin altare, an altar, which shifts 
 into the French autel. We may also notice, how 
 the French aune, drops out the L of the Latin ulna 
 an elbow ; indeed, many languages have a bad habit 
 of leaving out letters : so, as for the '^ farm," we need 
 say no more than that the municipal Odre is Farm- 
 French, mere patois, merely Older with the L 
 viciously left out. The primitive reading Ordre is 
 much better, being merely Older or Elder with 
 the L changed into R,, according to quite a common- 
 place rule. In short, the Tour d' Ordre is the Tour 
 d' Older, Holbein's Old Man. 
 
 Instead then of talking about the " Celtic " Odre, 
 the town geniuses had better have commemorated 
 themselves with the name ogre. Alas for such 
 gosling aldermen; they are as bad as church- 
 wardens' Gothic, and St. Whitewash. 
 
 The Tower was originally lofty ; it once stood no 
 less than 125 feet high : and in Henry the Eighth's 
 time it had still a considerable elevation. But at 
 length the sea made such inroads, that the cliff was 
 undermined, and the greater part of the old relic 
 tumbled down in the year 1744; the remains left 
 are now mere stumps of brick ruins, which stick up 
 like carious tusks, by way of Tuscan order. It is
 
 Jessie. 93 
 
 quite easy to scramble to the top of these ruins ; 
 and from the summit there is a capital view. 
 
 Cyril examined these ancient remains, and felt 
 convinced they were old enough to have been 
 erected by the mad monster Caligula. Moralizing 
 a little on the vicissitudes of things, he passed over 
 the crest of the ruins, and descended down the front 
 of the cliff, a very short way, to a led^e which 
 might be thought hazardous or difficult of access to 
 any who were not so alpine-footed as were Cyril 
 and Floss ; and there they both ensconced them- 
 selves snugly, in a nice little niche or nook, which 
 looked as if it had been made on purpose for them. 
 Here at once Cyril proceeded to put into execution 
 his threat about establishing an erudite connexion 
 between " Jessie " and the Boulogne pier. 
 
 Cyril had the good habit of speechifying to Floss ; 
 and if Demosthenes is applauded, as breaking him- 
 self in, for addressing mobs, by bellowing to the 
 billows on the poluphloisboio sea-shore, curing him- 
 self also of a lisp, by shouting to the waves with his 
 mouth full of pebbles (or was it toffy ?) : Cyril may 
 well be said to have been right, in practising de- 
 clamation before Floss, on the sea-shore too, since 
 Cyril hoped one day to be a senator and to address 
 that most formidable of all mobs, the House of 
 Commons. 
 
 "Permit me, sir," \siT is Mr. Speaker, or Floss, the 
 big dog,] "to call the attention of the House, to the 
 fact that the pleasant watering-place Boulogne, 
 though in France, is quite a John Bull appendage,
 
 94 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 and therefore will be sure of some regard in this 
 House, where British sympathies never fail to find 
 an echo. {Hear.) Boulogne is a sort of Gibraltar, 
 only it isn't a rock, it isn't fortified, and it isn't 
 ours; yet, our sovereign rules there. {A slight 
 laugh) Now the popular name of Boulogne is,* 
 Boulogne-sur-mer, on-the-sea, or B Bythesea; to 
 distinguish it, as a maritime town, from some other 
 city, which is inland, and not 'sur-mer.' {Hear) 
 The question then before the house is, and I move 
 that a committee of the whole House be appointed 
 to discover, what can that other city be ? The most 
 current and accepted supposition is, that the other 
 Boulogne is Bologna (pronounced Bol-own-ya) in 
 Italy, on the front frill of the high-caul'd cap of the 
 original old-woman-shaped Papal States. {Hear, 
 hear) It is common for the denizens of Boulogne- 
 sur-mer to relate plaintively how sundry letters 
 (possibly love-letters) of the utmost importance, 
 which were posted in England and curtly directed 
 ' Boulogne,' got sent forward incontinently to 
 Bologna, and only ' came to hand ' when they were 
 not handy, but obsolete. (Cheers) [N.B. these 
 " Cheers " consisted of certain comical blinks and 
 winks, which Floss made, according as he seemed 
 to be impressed by Cyril's manner.] This is a 
 serious grievance, to British subjects, which this 
 House cannot pass over. But, in order to clear the 
 ground, and see how we stand, and the better to 
 avoid drifting into a war with both France and 
 Italy on the point, I beg to show how strong is the
 
 Jessie . 95 
 
 ground for the Italian explanation ; and, however 
 pacific I may personally be, I cannot but visit with 
 my severest reprehension the French practice of 
 invalidating the Italian argument, by the French 
 calling Bologna 'Bologne ' : do they think that the 
 absence of you (u) will be enough to keep you out 
 of it ? (agitation.) Nay ; let me adjure the House 
 to keep calm, while I impress on everybody that, 
 in brief, the history of Boulogne-sur-mer is, that it 
 was at first a Celtic town, Gesoriacum. But sub- 
 sequently it received the name Bononia, because 
 one of Julius Csesar's pirates, (sensation) by name 
 Quintus Pedius, having been himself ' raised ' at 
 Bologna, altered the name Gesoriacum to Bononia ; 
 and it is indubitable that the name Boulogne comes 
 from Bononia. (Marks of adhesion.) Moreover, 
 Bologna in Italy is the big brick -walled city so 
 celebrated for those Bologna sausages which no one 
 in the place itself ever tastes, although (or is it 
 because ?) they are made exclusively of the very 
 best and tenderest donkey meat (laughter and 
 cheers) ; and this Italian Bologna was unquestion- 
 ably ' Bononia ' of old : so thus the one Bononia 
 became Bologna, and the other Bononia became 
 Boulogne. Hence the second place wanted the 
 distinguishing ' sur-mer,' because Bologna is in- 
 land, and not at all marine. If the Bononia busi- 
 ness is ' all Latin,' this is all the better, since it 
 belonged to Latin times, when both Bononias were 
 in the Eoman empire; and even in the age of 
 Char^e2/-magne, the two cities were as if in one
 
 96 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 country : in fact, both ancient Gauls and modern 
 French have had a decided taste for rating Italy 
 as merely an adjunct or boot-y of La Belle France. 
 {Murmurs [of the sea] on the left.) We English 
 have our Weston-super-mare, and we playfully 
 designate Brighton as London-super-mare ; and we 
 surely may let the poor French people have their 
 Bononia-super-mare, translating it for themselves 
 into Boulogne-sur-mer. We the Latin-less Pro- 
 testants of Albion have our super in line (superfine) 
 primitive guise ; and I think we may let the monk- 
 ish Latin Roman Catholics of the Csesaric Morinia, 
 have ' super ' subsiding into svur, with ' mare ' 
 metamogrofied into mer. (Loud applause.) The 
 town is French, and the words are French; and 
 they fitly distinguish a French town from an 
 Italian one. Nor is it any objection to this, that 
 there is another Boulogne in France itself (Some 
 cries of'' 0, O.") The other Boulogne is part of Paris ; 
 a tag-end indeed, but still a part of Paris, as much 
 as Kilburn is of London. In France, the Parisian 
 Boulogne is ' Boulogne, Paris'; whereas 'Boulogne ' 
 is Boulome-sur-mer : this would, or at least ouofht 
 to, be so, even in writing from Paris itself (Deri- 
 sive cheers.) Honorable members may intimate 
 dissent ; but I would recall to them the fact that 
 in France the only real Boulogne is the maritime 
 Bononia of Quintus Pedius. (Hear.) It is the 
 real original article. (Laughter.) Moreover, not 
 far from the seaside city of Boulogne-sur-mer, is 
 its own wood, the Bois de Boulogne, an ancient
 
 Jessie. 97 
 
 Chace of great extent; some say it ought to be 
 called not Bois or Wood, but Foret or Forest : how- 
 ever^ the peasants about it, call it Bois, and it is 
 marked Bois in the maps: for instance, in Dela- 
 mere's map it is ' Bois de Boulogne.' The whole 
 district is called the ' Boulonnais.' Armed with 
 these premises, I fly off to Paris. {Loud cheers) 
 What do I find there ? (Hear.) West of Paris, 
 the liver Seine takes a fine sweep, in the south 
 ingle of which, is ' Boulogne/ with now about six 
 thousand people; and, stretching away from this, 
 is the fashionable Park or ' Bois de Boulogne,' 
 which wood is now to the west and north-west of 
 Paris, and formerly extended to the north, beyond 
 Neuilly, to St. Denis. In other words, the Parisian 
 * Bois de Boulogne ' was the wood which was as if 
 the first step on the route towards Boulogne-sur- 
 mer and England. The seaside town gave its name 
 to its own wood, and also to the Parisian wood. 
 (Bravo /) The Parisian suburb Boulogne and the 
 Parisian wood are called after Boulogne-sur-mer, 
 just as Oxford Street in London, as leading towards 
 Oxford, is dependent for its name on the actual 
 academic city Oxford. The Parisian suburb 
 Boulogne is as strictly a piece of ^ Paris,' as is it 
 still all ' London ' at Bayswater or Chelsea. Thus 
 the Parisian Boulogne can no more compete with 
 Bologna, than can we cite the little tannery town 
 Bouloigne, near St. Gaudens and the Pyrenees. 
 The way that the Parisian suburb Boulogne got 
 its name is a material fact ; for, there was a * mira- 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 9 8 Jessie of Bo u log 
 
 me. 
 
 culous ' graven-image of the Virgin of Boulogne- 
 sur-mer, which was so celebrated at Paris, that the 
 Parisians made a model of the idol for themselves, 
 and placed it in the church of Menus St. Cloud 
 (or, stone from the clouds, St. Aerolite, or St. 
 Nubibus) : so the Parisians called this church and 
 its idol and the whole place, by the name Boulogne. 
 Thus the Parisian ' Boulogne ' and the Parisian 
 ' Bois de Boulogne ' all had as servile reference to 
 Boulogne-sur-mer, as has any Newcastle Wharf in 
 London to Newcastle-upon-Tyne. {Loud cheers.) 
 And I beg to asseverate with the greatest earnest- 
 ness, that it is not possible to have better authority 
 than the Peutinger Tables or Itinerary, of the third 
 century, where we have the whole history of the 
 place recorded in these words, 'Gesoriaco quod 
 nunc Bononia,' which words I may explain for the 
 Ladies' Gallery, as, Gesoriacum which is now Bono- 
 nia ; and this Bononia is confessedly Boulogne-sur- 
 mer, whereas the other Bononia is as confessedly 
 Bologna in Italy : wherefore the distinction is most 
 positively between these two, the two Bononias, 
 and none other. In Akerman (ii, 264) there is 
 exhibited a brass medallion of the Emperor Con- 
 stans, A.D. 337, whose coming to Boulogne is 
 described in history; and the inscription is BONONIA 
 OCEANEN., the oceanic Bononia, the sea Bononia, 
 that is, Bononia-sur-mer, namely, Boulogne-sur- 
 mer: this medal also shows the Tour d'Ordre in 
 the shape of ' a lighthouse, or tower, on a rock on 
 the shore.' {Triumiiohant cheers from both sides of
 
 yessie. 99 
 
 tliie house,) If I am not detaining the House {cries of 
 " Go on "), we may learn as much from the primor- 
 dial name Gesoriacum. That fine old Roman, Pliny, 
 in the fourth book of his Natural Historj^, speaks 
 of Bouloofne as ' Gesoriacum, on the coast of the 
 nation of the Morini.' Now, in Celtic, let me 
 mention, the word Ces or Ges means divergency, 
 like spokes issuing from the nave of a wheel ; also, 
 '0 ' means of: and, rhag, rhic, or riac, means rucks 
 or grooves running to a focus, or lines like roads 
 meeting in a point. The name therefore indicates 
 exactly what the place is now, and always was, 
 namely, the port where roads centred, and whence 
 the course of voyages branched wide. I would 
 compare how Brest was called Brivates and also 
 Gesobrivate. Thus Boulogne's old name Gesoriacum 
 is very significant, Ges-o-riac, the radiation of 
 routes. Why then may not the interesting name 
 Gesoriacum, give the name Jessie to a lovely girl ? 
 (Symptoms of uneasiness.) If, in Boulogne, 'a 
 body meet a body,' and if you do not know her 
 name ; you cannot do better than turn Geso — into 
 Jessie. And this is all the more the case, if it is 
 desired that the reminiscence may specially connect 
 her with the pier. For, the earliest Boulogne or 
 Gesoriacum was, neither the ' Upper Town,' nor 
 the ' Lower Town,' but actually the island, most 
 of which has been washed away, but part of which 
 survives in the walled islet, or promenade-stone- 
 lozenge, which occurs in the middle of our identical 
 Jetee de I'Est itself, and is adorned (?) with a striped
 
 lOO Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 fancy drinking-shed. This little atom of an island, 
 now built round, and marked with the points of the 
 compass, being paved and asphalted over, as a place 
 for bands of music or merry revels ; was once a 
 much larger island, fortified and inhabited, and 
 called the Isle of St. Laurent in the twelfth 
 century, but constituting the actual Gesoriacum. 
 {Continual signs of uneasiness.) This may well 
 authorize me to assign the name JESSIE, Jessie of 
 Boulogne, to the anonymous beauty, who recovered 
 her handkerchief on the very spot, and who " 
 
 But, here, the uneasiness of Floss became so pro- 
 nounced, and grew so like a whine, that Cyril 
 paused, wondering whether his companion's more 
 acute ears perceived there was some one nigh. 
 
 What if it should be Jessie herself ? 
 
 "Perhaps she has overheard all my musings about 
 her name." (Cyril listened.) " She and her aunt may 
 well have gone from the pier, towards the sands, and 
 turned back and come up here, to gain the command- 
 ing view ; ascending not by the way I did, but by 
 the road called the Rue des Signaux or Chemin de 
 la Baraque, which slopes up with scientific curves. 
 All the while I have been trying to name her, she 
 has been coming to me, without either of us know- 
 ing it." 
 
 Here Cyril distinctly heard a slight scream, such 
 as a lady might utter who was in danger of slipping 
 or falling. Floss sprang up the cliff, without bark- 
 ing (well behaved and thoughtful "brute"!), and 
 Cyril " clomb " as quick, standing on Caligula's
 
 Jessie, lOi 
 
 ruins, like the Genius of Succor. At once he per- 
 ceived that the two ladies, of whom he had been 
 speaking, had evidently either been on the ruins, 
 and were descending ; or else had begun to do so, 
 but desisted, and wished to retreat. The elder 
 lady seemed to have been the one who had cried 
 out, as she had apparently slipped, but had not 
 fallen ; she had been going down first, in kind care- 
 fulness for her younger companion, and was now 
 recovering herself, and planting her steps more 
 firmly, as the surface was somewhat slippery. She 
 was preparing to help down the younger lady, who 
 still stood on the higher spot. The situation was 
 not of any danger, except at most a sprained ankle ; 
 still this would be terrible for Jessie to be subjected 
 to. She might indeed get nervous, and spring or 
 hurry forward, and fall on her face, and do much 
 harm to her young and tender form. 
 
 Cyril saw how matters were, with half a glance, 
 even while he was bounding forward. He merely 
 said, " Permit me to assist you," with reassuring 
 self-possession ; and springing to a lower point than 
 where Jessie stood, he offered his hand, very res- 
 pectfully, to enable her to alight on the smoother 
 ground ; yet Cyril generously let it appear as if he 
 was only helping the aunt to do what she had 
 however just failed in accomplishing. The aunt 
 seemed unable till now to extend her hand to 
 Jessie ; and Jessie also herself appeared as if, now 
 that she did get hold of it, the affair would be a 
 very trembling one, because in fact both ladies had
 
 I02 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 grown ratlier giddy with the dizzy and breezy situ- 
 ation. Jessie had not yet taken Cyril's hand, both 
 modesty and youth prompting her not to accept aid 
 from a stranger unless it was requisite ; she seemed 
 also to wait for some sign from her elder friend. 
 But Cyril's help was unquestionably desirable, if 
 not indispensable ; it was safer, and worth while, to 
 accept it: so the elder lady, having discerned all 
 this without any awkward pause, said to Cyril, 
 ■with a gracious smile, " Many thanks, sir " : whereon 
 the sweet Jessie gave her soft little hand to Cyril, 
 and bounded down, like a beautiful gazelle, to a 
 place of comfortable security. 
 
 The elder lady seemed to appreciate the delicacy 
 of Cyril's only making as though he had assisted 
 }i€,T to help Jessie down ; whereas Cyril had really 
 helped the aunt as much as Jessie : he steadied the 
 one with the other : and only for his fulcient arm, 
 it is very possible that both would have stumbled^ 
 when Jessie had to take her spring. It was very 
 plain that Cyril was wanted, and did good " preven-. 
 tive " service. 
 
 We need not dilate on the thrill which Cyril felt 
 when Jessie placed her darling soft (ungloved) 
 hand in his ; he owned to himself he would rather 
 have the hand and its owner, than anything else 
 the earth could offer him. 
 
 Jessie was not at all confused, but was plainly 
 pleased with him ; and, with her own silvery voice 
 (the first time he had heard it ! what music did 
 it sound !) she thanked him unaffectedly, with some
 
 yessie. 103 
 
 such words as, " I am much obliged to you, sir, for 
 your seasonable assistance." 
 
 Like as others may have observed in such a case, 
 Cyril could not afterwards have been certain of any 
 one of the words ; however, he had a glad sense that 
 she thanked him with a graceful welcome : and that 
 was enough. 
 
 " Blessings on her ! " thought Cyril; " she is clearly 
 as beautiful in disposition, as she is in person. I 
 did not know such a girl could exist. I had no 
 idea there could he such a being of bliss." 
 
 As for Floss, he evidently was in great glee on 
 the subject ; he capered up to Jessie, and, without 
 putting his paws on her dress (a great accomplish- 
 ment in a well-educated dog), he frisked about 
 her, with every token of gratulation, and quite 
 equivalent to saying. You're a pet : and then he 
 threw himself into his sitting posture, as if for his 
 head to be patted again, thus mutely reminding her 
 of the handkerchief scene : for, Floss did not bark 
 at all at her, but only made a funny sort of purring 
 sound, as if asking to be caressed. Jessie did not 
 deny him, but placed her dazzling white hand on 
 his glossy curly head, to his great satisfaction. 
 
 The taller lady was a little constrained; and 
 why ? Was she the girl's governess ? No ; though 
 many a governess is more a lady than her " missus " 
 or the young misses, still the humbling position tells : 
 and here all's too imperial. She does not look like 
 a married lady, nor like one " in charge " ; too much 
 freedom, too much freshness. Nay, the unmarried
 
 1 04 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 aunt must be the solution. So she was somewhat 
 constrained, doubtless because she really did not 
 want at present to add to her acquaintance; and, 
 least of all, to get herself, and still worse, Jessie, 
 entangled in an intimacy, with so handsome a 
 young man of whom she knew nothing. Neverthe- 
 less, she was too nice and too beautiful to be any- 
 thing of a duenna ; she felt also that she must not 
 be too stiff towards one who had been obligino- 
 without being intrusive. 
 
 So, when Cyril made all proper gentlemanly en- 
 quiries, hoping that there had been no sprain or 
 inconvenience; she replied in kind and winning 
 words. In any such little conversation, Cyril 
 always showed to great advantage, because his 
 spirit evinced all that is contained in the word 
 " delicacy," together with supreme consideration for 
 the thoughts and feelings of others. It was evident 
 he made a very favourable impression ; and when 
 something was said as to his having appeared so 
 suddenly and opportunely, he remarked, that he 
 had been down the face of the cliff, indulging in 
 some cogitations on the antiquities of the place : 
 whereat he noticed that a mjerry s'parkle glittered 
 in Jessie's glorious eyes, as if she had heard some- 
 thing which the other lady had not. Cyril did not 
 much care what it was, or how it was, so that she 
 thought of him, and took any note of him, and asso- 
 ciated him with any ideas which certainly were not 
 unpleasing ones. 
 
 Cyril did not speak much to Jessie, lest it might
 
 Jessie, 1 05 
 
 excite alarm or suspicion as to his wanting to be too 
 free ; however, what he said was meant for her, nor 
 was her cheerful smile or laugh wanting in reply. 
 Cyril pointed out that the wind up there was rather 
 high, laying the blame on it, rather than on the 
 ladies, for their not being able to explore the block 
 of ruins with ease. He also ventured on a small 
 joke, declaring that Caligula's Tour d' Ordre ought 
 to be ashamed of itself for belying its name, and 
 being in such shocking bad order, indeed, of no 
 " order " at all, except the tumbledown order. 
 
 The jest, being offered to indulgent ears, passed 
 very well ; Jessie seemed quite amused : and Cyril 
 could see that she was a girl who not only pos- 
 sessed transcendent loveliness, with kindliness of 
 nature, but also that she had " plenty of fun " in her, 
 and Cyril was well aware that this self-same power 
 of looking at things with a suitable merry mind, 
 was an ingredient of no small importance in making 
 life pass happily. 
 
 "So brilliant she is, so fresh, so artless, so obviously 
 free in heart, so graceful, so beautiful;" thought 
 Cyril," I should be unpardonable not to admire her : 
 and I only hope fate may have it in store for me, to 
 become known to her, and possibly to win her 
 esteem, if not to gain her love."
 
 io6 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 THE ACTRESS. 
 
 " How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
 Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
 Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the night, 
 Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
 Sit, Jessica ; look how the floor of heaven 
 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold : 
 There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st, 
 But in his motion like an angel sings, 
 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins : 
 Such harmony is in immortal souls." 
 
 Shakespeare's " Merchant of Venice." 
 
 Our hero Cyril was now placed precisely where he 
 could best wish to be, conversing so agreeably with 
 "the two ladies/' on the green sward, beside the 
 ruins. 
 
 He exerted, without any seeming effort, all his 
 utmost powers of discourse, of suavity, of descrip- 
 tion, to prolong the delicious interview ; and yet he 
 felt it was a pleasure which must within a very 
 few seconds come to a close. He was conscious that 
 his only hope of continuing the conversation lay in 
 retaining them where they were. So he pointed 
 out the two little scraps of islands, looking like 
 Martello towers in the water, being forts built on 
 reefs dry at low tide \ one has been allowed to be-
 
 The Actress. 107 
 
 come dismantled, and is only full of rats ; both are 
 in fact useless and untenable : one is about a mile 
 up, and the other as far down, on each side of the 
 mouth of the Boulogne harbour. But while such 
 defences seem despised, there are strong earthwork 
 batteries erectinsr, one to the riorht, on the Route de 
 Napoleon III.; and the other, the Battery des Dunes, 
 of the Downs, that is, the Ups or sand-hills, com- 
 manding the entrance, at the beginning of the Jet^e 
 de rOuest. These fortifications, mounted with 
 heavy rifled cannon, would make it very difficult 
 for anyone to attack the place. 
 
 " But then," said Cyril to the ladies, " what is the 
 good of fortifying France ? who would attack^ it ? 
 Certainly, France has been invaded and occupied, in 
 years gone by ; however, this was mere retaliation, 
 in consequence of France's own aggressive spirit. 
 As to the present day, no one can seriously pretend 
 that if France be quiescent, anyone would dare to 
 assail it. England is of all countries now the least 
 likely to attack France; nor will England ever 
 again try or wish to invade France. And as to all 
 the continental nations, they will never take the 
 initiative against France ; they will never begin to 
 assail, if France can only try and keep quiet. So, 
 France need not fortify itself; its immemorial mili- 
 tary spirit is its own best fortification. Thus the 
 acknowledged fact that France is the great military 
 nation, might safely allow France to set the example 
 of disarming. What a blessing to mankind it would 
 be, if France reduced her army to only fifty thousand
 
 io8 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 men, and these to be for 'purposes of national state 
 and parade only. What a saving to France herself ! 
 Nor would France lose one jot of influence thereb}^, 
 among the nations; everyone would know that still, 
 if France were insulted, the Emperor would only 
 have to stamp his foot, for a million of Gauls to 
 arise. The wealth saved would more than balance 
 thei legions lost, as regards influence. And on the 
 other hand, with reference to Britain, surely the 
 Volunteer movement, which, with her insular posi- 
 tion, makes England as invulnerable as France, 
 might permit England to curtail even her small 
 army ; and also to reduce her fleet to the footing of 
 an honorary patrol to the colonies. England and 
 France have only each other to fear ; and as they 
 do not mean ever again to damage each other, why 
 may they not get the worth of that amity, in a 
 peace establishment, and in the pacific disarmament, 
 which would, without any menace, force the other 
 nations to go and do likewise ? What an incubus 
 would be taken off the energies of Europe ! It 
 would be the beginning of men's not 'learning 
 War ' any more." 
 
 Thus did poor Cyril manfully strive to eke out 
 the conversation, and to detain his fair auditors in 
 the place where such a topic could be so appro- 
 priately discussed. He even hoped they would 
 contravene, or demur to, some of his ideas; but 
 they seemed to enter into his " military " views, 
 and thoroughly to agree with him : if they didn't, 
 they didn't say so. He felt he must now lose this
 
 The Actress, 109 
 
 great privilege of confabulation with those whom he 
 so admired, and he must therefore now let them bid 
 him good morning. 
 
 What could he do ? Many a mean or impudent 
 fellow might in such a case have resorted to many 
 expedients ; but Cyril believed that nothing would 
 prosper, unless its principle could be conscientiously 
 approved. He might of course let the ladies retire, 
 and then follow them, watching them and dodging 
 them round the corners like a sneak ; but he who 
 would do this would not be a Cyril Grosvenor. No 
 paltry procedure would serve his turn. Suspense 
 would be better than his falling in his own esteem. 
 Better to be tortured by losing all present trace of 
 such truly prized friends, than rack himself with 
 the humiliating consciousness of self-degradation. 
 Old Pythagoras among his golden maxims bids us 
 not only primarily reverence the Godhead, but also 
 above all things, says he, aiskuneo sauton, that is, 
 respect yourself. The man who has none of this 
 feeling, is ready for any base disreputable deed. 
 Besides, Cyril had a persuasion, which though un- 
 expressed and latent, was cogent with him, namely, 
 that God is not a myth, nor a religious name for 
 Chance, but the real disposer of the events of life. 
 Hence he had insensibly the glad conviction, that 
 as Providence had already brought him and this 
 pure girl so far together, without either of them 
 seeking it ; so, he trusted, they should not be lost 
 to each other, among the intricacies of the future. 
 And it may be asserted that such practical relianc-
 
 no Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 on God, in matters interesting to oneself, is more 
 true " Faith " than that which some of the puri- 
 tanical sectaries talk about so glibly, in their '^ re- 
 ligious " conventions. 
 
 Cyril would shrink from entering on anything 
 dishonorable, which other people could detect him 
 as engaged in ; but there was (as Teddy would say) 
 another person, by whom he would not like to be 
 caught, in any ignoble course : and that one was 
 himself It would be the greatest humiliation to 
 Cyril, to have recourse to any artifice or creeping 
 tactics, which he would feel to be in conflict with 
 what befitted a man of honor. 
 
 Hence, if of course he might part company now, 
 and still pursue his quarry, probably to some hotel, 
 where the waiter or chambermaid might be bribed 
 with a couple of napoleons to reveal all sorts of 
 facts and fictions ; still he would know that when 
 he intruded himself, he would be sure of a deserved 
 repulse, if the people he sought were worth know- 
 ing and awake to the dictates of honor. If he 
 forced himself on ihenrh, they would instinctively 
 keep Mm at arm's length. Or, again, suppose that 
 now while talking with them, he boldly begged to 
 be allowed to introduce himself, so as to tell how 
 he was one of the richest commoners of England, 
 and connected with a noble race ; they probably 
 would receive the information with civility, but 
 possibly they would not even believe it : nor could 
 they fail to discern that his announcing himself was 
 a circuitous way of asking them who iliey were.
 
 The Actress, 1 1 1 
 
 They would descry the motive, and would despise 
 him for his curiosity and vulgar "pushing" encroach- 
 ing airs. Or, suppose he was forward enough, not 
 only to give them his own name, but also point- 
 blank to solicit that he might be favored with 
 their name and address ; they possibly might 
 vouchsafe the piece of intelligence, treating him as 
 if he were an amateur detective : but the next time 
 he met them, they would cut him dead. More 
 likely, they would reply haughtily, that they had 
 no visiting card with them. " At best," thought he, 
 *' if I push myself, they will take me for some inqui- 
 sitive American, some ill- taught Yankee, who has 
 broken loose from the backwoods, and goes ques- 
 tioning everybody about their private concerns, 
 when he had much better mind his own business." 
 In any case, Cyril felt he would forfeit what little 
 or faint degree of liking or goodwill they might 
 have already begun to entertain for him ; because 
 the conditions of the case, and a couple of casual 
 rencounters, did not entitle him to foist himself on 
 such obviously high-bred ladies, as if he had the 
 rights of an old friend, instead of being as he only 
 was at present, the mere "■ bowing acquaintance " 
 of a day. — Cyril cannot be said to have actually 
 revolved all these considerations in his mind ; but, 
 while he was chattering agreeably about Peace and 
 the entente cordiale and the reduction of the French 
 army, he had a general consciousness of how the 
 case stood, and how his path was blocked up 
 against making any further advances, as his high
 
 1 1 2 Jessie of Boulogne^ 
 
 sense of honor told Lim : so we may be said to 
 have elucidated what were his latent instincts 
 rather than his actual reflections. 
 
 Cyril's position at this point may illustrate some 
 of the smaller mysteries of society ; nor are such 
 minute matters to be overlooked : indeed, I insist, 
 often the greater events depend on the minor acces- 
 sories, like as the grand stones of a building are 
 held together by the humble mortar. The solution 
 of this very question, whether Cyril should now 
 try to thrust himself further on the fair strangers? 
 had much to do with his future happiness. If he 
 strove to satiate his curiosity or impatience, it 
 would be at the risk of alienating their rising 
 esteem. Often such little sequences of action, over- 
 lapping one another like tiles on a roof, have more 
 to do with the real turns of life, than would seem 
 to be supposed by some masters of description, 
 who, omitting all the lowlier links, only deign to 
 leap like Neptune from promontory to promontory ; 
 they may be grand and rapid, but they are not 
 true to human nature, or to the course of human 
 impulses : they are as if a person's survey of man- 
 kind were to range only from each uninhabited hill 
 to hill, and ignored all those intervening valle^^s in 
 which our fellow-creatures dwell. 
 
 Feeling that the inevitable decree of exile to be 
 pronounced in the smiling words " Good morning, 
 sir," was now about to be uttered against him ; 
 Cyril anticipated it by asking gaily, yet pleadingly, 
 whether he might be permitted to accompany them
 
 The Actress. 113 
 
 just a few steps further, to the end of the path, and 
 the beginning of the street : because, he added, it 
 was still a steep cliff! 
 
 This was rather a roguish remark of Cyril's, 
 since the fact was, the rest of the way had not even 
 the semblance of danger, though it was still no 
 doubt called the Cliff; and he seemed to imply 
 that, without him, the ladies might be getting into 
 some little disaster again. However, they smiled, 
 and agreed to have his escort to the corner, where 
 the first street began. Possibly, the aunt, being 
 prudent and sensible, was glad to have it so neatly 
 agreed and arranged, that he was not to join them 
 any further ; whereas poor Cyril felt almost a gulp 
 of agony at the idea that perhaps he might never 
 see them again. 
 
 Cyril took advantage of the few minutes left him, 
 to maintain the same style of conversation which 
 had seemed to interest them ; and he drew attention 
 to the several objects which presented themselves in 
 the fine open view, the sea spreading most beauti- 
 fully beneath. 
 
 Cyril also pointed out, that, at the beginning of 
 the street where he was to make his adieux, there 
 is a little enclosed place like a small garden, in the 
 middle of which there are two blue images, the size 
 of life, representing some saintesses, as coarse as the 
 figure-heads on any rough ship ; they are mere rug- 
 ged blocks of wood, painted over and intended for 
 adoration purposes : the whole thing having as re- 
 volting an aspect of deliberate image-worship as 
 
 VOL I. 8
 
 114 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 might be expected among the idolaters of central 
 Africa. Worst of all, between the blue females, rises 
 a huge crucifix, towering into the air. The body in 
 which our Blessed Saviour's sufferings are so pro- 
 fanely and grossly caricatured, is the size of life ; 
 and the crucifix is topped with the crown of thorns^ 
 set up vertically, the crown being an iron ring with 
 spikes, resembling the circles used for stars at illu- 
 minations. Above the crown again, on the upper- 
 most thorn or spike, is a rude painted lump, looking 
 like a child's rabbit-toy or a stuffed parrot, but 
 doubtless meant for a cock, the cock of St. Peter, 
 turning as weathercock on top of the Crown of 
 Thorns ! ! The whole show is called " Calvary." If 
 anything could aggravate the profanity, it is, when 
 the wall to the street, outside this hideous travesty 
 of religion, has these three words inscribed on a 
 board, as if a summing-up of the whole scene, " 
 crux, ave," which means, cross, hail ; being an 
 actual prayer to the wood of the accursed tree. 
 
 Here then had Cyril arrived, at the tether which 
 he had himself put, to his services as knight and 
 escort to the ladies. 
 
 And if he had hoped that either the images or 
 anything else, might possibly prolong the inter- 
 course, ever so little more ; he was undeceived b}^ 
 the approach of a lady and gentleman, who were 
 almost the only people he knew in the place. 
 The Hon. Major Fitzherbert and Adela his wife, 
 soon to return to England from their wedding 
 tour, were in the same hotel where Cyril Grosvenor
 
 The Actress, 115 
 
 had chanced to stop ; and as Cyril knew something 
 of the Majors family, there had been some slight 
 interchange of civilities. 
 
 They were really nice people ; but Cyril was far 
 from pleased to see them now, because his meeting 
 with acquaintances of his own, must of course forbid 
 the ladies even to remain a moment at the point 
 where he was to part company. Perceiving this, 
 Cyril felt much vexation, and turning to both the 
 aunt and Jessie, he said with sudden agitation, " I 
 wish I could someway obtain the privilege of an 
 introduction to you, for then perhaps I might be 
 received by you into the number of your acquaint- 
 ances." 
 
 Jessie blushed ; nor did either of the ladies seJfem 
 to see the reason of the abrupt remark, which, it 
 must be confessed, was slightly at variance with all 
 the principles which Cyril had just been cherishing 
 as his, about not intruding himself further than he 
 fairly and honorably might. However, the remark 
 was natural, and was wrung from him by the morti- 
 fication of friends coming up so unexpectedly, to 
 bereave him of the last hope of another word with 
 Jessie. But, if the ladies scarce understood what he 
 meant, when he said it ; they at once comprehended 
 his meaning, when the next moment Major and Mrs. 
 Fitzherbert came up, with whom (as they pounced 
 on him) Cyril had to shake hands. 
 
 So, the aunt and Jessie, somewhat distantly, yet 
 very gracefully, bowed to Cyril, and passed onward 
 towards the town ; while he, poor fellow, felt as if
 
 Ii6 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 he was never to be familiar with them, perhaps 
 never even to see them, again. 
 
 Cyril had to digest his chagrin, in the shape of 
 polite small chat with the Fitzherberts, who did not 
 ask him who the ladies were, which looked a little 
 odd ; but perhaps it was only good- breeding, since 
 questioning is alw^ays rude : and the rule of the 
 Court is a good one, that the Queen is not to be 
 interpellated. Still, there was something odd, and 
 quasi-quizzical, in the manner of the Fitzherberts, 
 which made Cyril uneasy ; as if something funny 
 struck them " anent '' him and the ladies. 
 
 Here, now, he was mistaken ; because they had 
 simply been amusing themselves with some rail- 
 leries of their own, and the remnants of the merri- 
 ment were still playing about their mouths. Lovers 
 however in Cyril's predicament are suspicious or 
 sensitive ; hence he fancied that because the Fitz- 
 herberts asked no questions, they knew who the 
 fair strangers were, and looked down on them. 
 
 The Fitzherberts were very rich, gay, merry, yet 
 " proud," and still lighthearted ; rather, it might be 
 feared, mere votaries of levity and fashion, but far 
 less so than they seemed. 
 
 They asked Cyril laughingly, and he thought 
 pointedly, whether he had of course been at the 
 Theatre ? It seems there is a respectable one, which 
 can hold 1042 people, and occasionally celebrities 
 appear on its boards. 
 
 Cyril replied in the negative ; and then Mrs. 
 Fitzherbert said, '* 0, then you go to the Concert ? "
 
 The Actress. 1 1 7 
 
 Cyril met the indefinite query, by taking it into 
 the future, and responding, " Yes, I think I shall 
 go." 
 
 Whereon the Fitzherberts rattled on, as sucl? 
 joyous pates do, describing how there is in Boulogne* 
 every Sunday evening, a sort of concert-ball, or 
 Harmony- Hop, at the Salle des Concerts. " But," 
 quoth the Major, "it is chiefly for the fishing-people, 
 and the ' lower orders ' ; though others go to look 
 and lauo^h : some are there, whose friends in Eno^- 
 land would be immensely surprised and edified, to 
 see them there. Still," he continued, " I don't ap- 
 prove of such ' Sunday ' goings-on, nor does my old 
 woman " [age 23] ; " in fact, we do not see why 
 English people abroad, who bring with them their 
 language and their banknotes, should not also bring 
 with them their own national predilections : so we 
 set our faces against Sunday balls, and thus you 
 see we are not quite heathens. However, at the 
 same Salle, on other days, there are sometimes very 
 superior concerts, promoted by the Philharmonic 
 Society. 
 
 "And to-night," adds the Major, " there is to be a 
 grand concert; and there are to be some firstrate 
 vocalists and songstresses from Paris, and two from 
 London, one such a superb woman, and the other, 
 Miss Ellicott, plaguey pretty, my dear," said he, 
 archly, to his wife, as if to make her jealous, but 
 really only to signalize how unwavering was his 
 devotion to his fond and very comely bride. 
 
 " Hush, you goose," said she.
 
 ii8 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 Cyril did not know what all this meant. He 
 was bewildered ; he fancied much of it was in- 
 tended for him, either as a warning, or a banter. 
 The pretty Miss ElHcott I 
 
 A pang shot through his heart, when he thought 
 " A cantatrice ! an actress ! The aunt, with that 
 remarkable and theatrical head-gear, is therefore 
 merely a magnificent prima donna, or some public 
 singer, to perform in public to-night ; and Jessie " 
 (he shuddered) " is merely a pupil or star in train- 
 ing, because of her beauty, destined to the same 
 occupation, if not already practised in it 1" 
 
 Such were the thoughts which racked Cyril, 
 while he sought to keep up a garish chatter with 
 the Fitzherberts, returning as he now did along with 
 them towards the town. " You'll come then with us 
 to the concert to-night ? " said Mrs. Fitzherbert ; to 
 which Cyril assented : and they set off to enquire 
 about tickets. 
 
 It was agreed that Cyril should take an early 
 dinner with them ; to this he listlessly consented, 
 not wantinof to be left to himself to think, his mind 
 being all of a tumult. So, all the rest of the after- 
 noon Cyril had the painful ordeal of maintaining a 
 lively conversation with his host and hostess on all 
 sorts of trivial topics, while his mind was every 
 now and then feverishly recurring to the new phase 
 of Jessie, which had started up to worry him. 
 
 It would have been no relief to him if he had 
 known that the Fitzherberts had positively not 
 noticed the ladies at all, at least personally ; con-
 
 The Actress, 1 1 9 
 
 scioas perhaps that he was grouped with some 
 petticoats : but no raore than this : nor would they 
 know or care or canvass the point whether a young 
 man like Mr. Grosvenor knew or did not know 
 every lady in the place, young or old, belle or blue- 
 stocking, beauty or bore. 
 
 The Major had seen him from some little distance 
 off, and recognizing him, had said to his wife, 
 ''There's Mr. Grosvenor, and I'll ask him to dine 
 with us, ' in the family way,' you know, though 
 he is not a little stranger." To which she rejoined 
 by telling her husband that he was a tremendous 
 big booby. " Well then," says he, "you will have no 
 more time henceforth to read your Bride of Abydos, 
 now that you are yourself chargeable as * the bride 
 of a ' — booby." 
 
 " Very poor," said she. 
 
 " Nay, rich, to have you." 
 
 " My fortune ? " 
 
 '' No ; yourself." 
 
 And so they went on, with their merry sparring, 
 wrapt up in themselves, and not noticing the ladies 
 in the least. 
 
 Had Cyril known this, it would not have com- 
 forted him ; so thoroughly had the explanation that 
 they were some sort of actresses, commended itself 
 to his mind, independent now of the Fitzherberts, 
 and on the merits of the supposition itself /' That 
 is what they are ! It must be so ! " 
 
 " And what though Jessie is an actress or opera- 
 singer ? she may still be everything that is estimable."
 
 120 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 Yet, saying this to himself, his mind ran off to 
 reflect what would his revered parents have felt, to 
 find him wedding an actress ; for, they were rather 
 staid and severe in their views, and they, like the 
 old Romans, were ready to regard the stage profes- 
 sion as " infamous." " Well then," said Cyril to him- 
 self, " it is doubtless best, that I am going abroad ; 
 for then I may be able to disenchant myself of this 
 infatuation." 
 
 Cyril had not told the giddy Fitzherberts about 
 George Thornton and the ' Amaranth ' and his pro- 
 jected journey. The thought of it saddened him, as 
 he felt he should never see Jessie again ; and thus 
 it is plain that though he might ventilate the ques- 
 tion of leaving her willingly, he really loved her 
 too fervently to be able or at least to be willing to 
 part from her at all ! Such alternations appertained 
 to his excited frame of mind. In that clever work, 
 " Fallacies of the Faculty," Dr. Dickson follows his 
 hobby till he maintains that Love is a disease, and 
 that it, like all other maladies, is of the ague order, 
 with hot and cold fits. This was now true enough 
 of Cyril ; for, no sooner had he said to himself it 
 was well that he was going to the other side of the 
 world away from Jessie, than he had, instantly, to 
 add, that he never could forsake her" or forget her, 
 and that to be severed from her for ever, would be 
 lifelong misery. 
 
 " What then if she is an actress ? How many 
 actresses, like Jenny Lind, have been everything 
 that is pure and good ! If there is, of course, often
 
 The Actress. 121 
 
 something contaminatinoj in such a life, bow well 
 may I marry Jessie, and save her from any pollu- 
 tion." And Cyril cited for himself the exquisite 
 words of Shakespeare's sonnet in " Tarquin and 
 Lucrece," " The crow may bathe his coal-black 
 wings in mire, And unperceived fly with the filth 
 away; But if the like the snow-white swan desire, 
 The stain upon his silver down will stay." 
 
 And then Cyril remembered how he iiad often 
 taken the part of actors and actresses, arguing in 
 their favour, and showing how hardly and unjustly 
 they are often used. As regards Cyril's school of 
 opinions, we may say, he might be described as one 
 who was unhesitatingly a churchman; yet, as his 
 protestantism was very decided, he might be sup- 
 posed to belong to the low-church or evangelical 
 party, who are those that are always very harsh 
 and denunciatory against stage -players. But Cyril 
 did not " symbolize " with this part at least of their 
 persuasions. 
 
 In theatricals, there is nothing intrinsically, that 
 need lay the stage open to animadversion. If it 
 " supports so many bad characters," that must be 
 accidental, and merely a reflection of the current 
 state of society ; a refined and purified world would 
 exact an elevated tone on the stage. Or, if it be 
 said that libidinous ideas are cherished, or that the 
 divine Name is taken in vain ; this again is acci- 
 dental, according to the bad taste of some one author 
 or the inefficiency of some particular manager : it is 
 not inherent in the system : vice and profanity need
 
 12 2 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 not be the rule of plays, any more than of novels, 
 or of parties and suppers, or of private life. Of 
 course you may have a bad play, and a bad theatre, 
 and bad actors, and bad lanauaoje, and still worse 
 innuendoes; like as you may have a bad (built) 
 church, and bad parson, bad sermon, bad doctrine, 
 bad grammar, bad music, bad everything : yet none 
 of the badness is necessary. The broad object of 
 the stage transparently is, to promote morality, and 
 to foster high and noble thoughts. To see Shake- 
 speare's murderous " Macbeth " well represented j 
 would be a more powerful dissuasive against homicide 
 and ambition, than any discourse that an archbishop 
 could preach. In fact it may I think be held that 
 it is a good deal to Shakespeare and " Macbeth " 
 that we owe the earnestness with which murder is 
 abhorred by English people more than by other 
 nations. Even the puritan Milton wrote " Comus, 
 a Mask," and in '' L' Allegro " he admits that the 
 tenor or tendency of the " stage," when properly 
 carried out, is allied to virtue. The contrary results 
 are only ugly casualties, which do not tell against 
 the principle of the stage. Who can candidly and 
 honestly allege that the influence is anything else 
 but moral and beneficial of such sentiments as 
 Shakespeare's " King Lear," " The gods are just, 
 and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to 
 scourge us " ? We may say the same of his " Henry 
 the Eighth," " Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be 
 thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; " or " Henry 
 the Sixth," " Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel
 
 The Actress, 123 
 
 just : And he but naked, though locked up in steel, 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted." It 
 is vain and disingenuous for anyone to pretend that 
 the brilliant declamation of such noble thoughts can 
 have any other impulse than one in favour of virtue. 
 What but the actual germ of the " Pilgrim's Pro- 
 gress," are the words of Shakespeare's " All's well 
 that ends well," " I am for the house with the narrow 
 Gate, which I take to be too little for pomp to enter ; 
 some, that humble themselves, may " ? Such sen- 
 tences are as good as the best sermons. Those sour 
 souls who would contradict this, are best described 
 in Shakespeare's " Merchant of Venice," " The devil 
 can cite Scripture for his purpose ; An evil^ soul, 
 producing holy witness. Is like a villain with a 
 smiling cheek : A goodly apple rotten at the heart : 
 0, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! " I be- 
 lieve there never was any testimony half so effective, 
 ever given in any grim conventicle, on behalf of the 
 most important and precious of Gospel truths, as 
 when Shakespeare, in " Measure for Measure," pours 
 forth the awful accents, " Alas, alas I Why, all the 
 souls that were, were forfeit once ; And HE that 
 might the vantage best have took, Found out the 
 remedy." Who can measure the amount of good 
 which such a glorious witness, rich with the supreme 
 doctrine of the Atonement of Christ, may have done 
 in many thoughtless minds ? such thrillingly true 
 testimony may have "turned many to righteousness." 
 Shakespeare has thus been a missionary preacher, 
 in theatres, to congregations who would not have
 
 1 24 Jessie of Buulogne, 
 
 listened elsewhere. Nor have the questions of Faith 
 and Good Works ever been better harmonized, than 
 when Shakespeare makes Henry the Fifth say^ 
 " More will I do ; Though all that I can do, is 
 nothing worth : Since that my penitence comes 
 after all, Imploring pardon." 
 
 " Therefore/' thought Cyril, while Mrs. Fitzherbert 
 was cackling, to him and her husband, the raciest 
 fun and gossip ; " I think it is a pity that the clergy 
 in general seem to stand so primly aside from 
 the interests of the stage. It would be better to 
 show sympathy and goodwill, rather than that the 
 Church and the Theatre, both having the same object 
 to benefit men's hearts, should pull different ways. 
 The fact that the stage is under the supervision of 
 the Lord Chamberlain, is a sort of fair ' Church and 
 State ' argument for the Church's not turning as it 
 generally does from the stage with scornful eye 
 askance. Depend upon it, the theatre has for ages 
 been found to be a requirement of man's nature; 
 and it would be wiser for the Church to look the fact 
 in the face, and make the best of it. Yes," dreamed 
 Cyril, " if I were a clever prelate, like Bishop 
 Wilberforce, or a leading clergyman like Mr. Champ- 
 neys, I believe I should try to make it part of my 
 r61e, to get myself considered the Actor's friend ; I 
 should see to their poor and sick, and get aid for 
 their schools, and strengthen their charitable insti- 
 tutions : and in such a matter as Dulwich College, 
 which was designed in the time of James the First 
 by Alleyne, that is, plain Edward Allen, an actor, I
 
 The Actress, 125 
 
 should strive to make the sons of the stage, as such, 
 obtain the advantages which now, so unhandsomely 
 and ungratefully, they are not allowed to reap. 
 
 " And then," added Cyril, " surely the fairest and 
 purest of all * actresses,' might be supposed to be the 
 singers, who simply breathe forth the loveliest 
 sounds : thanks to the exquisite vocal organs with 
 which nature has endowed them." 
 
 In this manner did Cyril succeed in reconciling 
 himself to Jessie's profession ; and so he went with 
 the Fitzherberts to the concert-room, fully prepared 
 to see the aunt shining as a firstrate star, and Jessie 
 present, perhaps in the background, more as an orna- 
 ment, to accustom her to appear in public, or at most 
 to take some second part, or play the bass of a duet. 
 
 He and the Fitzherberts had come in good time. 
 
 o 
 
 The Major sat at the end to the left, of one row of 
 seats ; his wife had the next chair on his right : and 
 then came Cyril; the rest of the row was empty at- 
 present. 
 
 Cyril had got one of those very small photographs 
 which come out so finely under a microscope. He 
 had it in his hand and was bending down, poring 
 over it, to get the best light, and examining it with 
 the magnifying glass. All the while the concert- 
 room was filling fast. 
 
 When Cyril had sufficiently scrutinized the pho- 
 tograph, and had lifted himself up, he became con- 
 scious that Jessie was in the room. She had how- 
 ever nothing to do with the stage or the orchestra, 
 but was sitting beside him, in all her beaut}^
 
 126 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 GALLANTRY. 
 
 *' Wrong her by petulance, suspicion, all 
 That makes her cup a bitterness ; yet give 
 One evidence of love, and earth has not 
 An emblem of devotedness like hers." 
 
 Willis. 
 
 Yes, she was sitting beside him, more beautiful than 
 words can depict. That she should be unconsciously 
 seated next to him, seemed like the kind manage- 
 ment of some guardian angel. It was so meet, so 
 sweet, so neat, it might be thought more fit for a 
 novel than for reality. The elder lady was sitting 
 at the other side of Jessie. 
 
 Surprise and delight beamed in Cyril's eyes; 
 under which impulse, scarce knowing what he did, 
 he slightly rose, and held out his hand to Jessie, 
 who, colouring a little with pleasure, gave him hers 
 to shake, with maidenly grace, free from affectation. 
 
 He could not stretch across Jessie, to offer his 
 hand to the aunt, which would have indeed looked 
 too free ; besides, Cyril half feared whether he had 
 not been too free, perilously free, and almost "impu- 
 dent" already, in shaking hands so glibly with 
 Jessie, as if he had known her all his life ? How-
 
 Gallantry, < 127 
 
 ever, Jessie's manner was sufficiently kind ; and the 
 aunt, who looked splendidly handsome, gave him 
 quite a gracious salute of recognition, saying smil- 
 ingly, "It seems, we meet again." 
 
 Altogether Cyril might be conscious that the 
 principles of gentlemanly reserve and delicacy on 
 which he had acted, had been appreciated, and had 
 worked well for him, and had produced an impres- 
 sion in his favor. 
 
 Mrs. Fitzherbert whispered to him, asking who 
 they were ? to which he replied evasively, " I have 
 met them before " ; and the Hon. Major's wife was 
 too much of a lady not to be satisfied with this. If 
 she had any plot, of afterwards " roasting " Cyril 
 about the fair strangers whose names he kept so 
 secret; she was quite disarmed by Cyril's chatting 
 to her and to the Major, as much as he did to the 
 aunt and Jessie : and Mrs. Fitzherbert knew well 
 that in places like Brighton or Boulogne many per- 
 sons of rank did not want to be known, being on 
 their travels for health or change of scene, and some- 
 times to recruit their pockets. 
 
 It must be confessed, Cyril was glad that his 
 philosophy about actresses was not to be put to 
 the actual test ; and roundly did he accuse himself 
 of folly and treason, in having let his fears betray 
 him into settling Jessie's line of life and station. 
 " "But," says he, " I suppose everyone, in love, like 
 me, and as much in the dark as I am, about the object 
 of his admiration, is just as liable to jump to wrong 
 conclusions." And when he made some little remark
 
 1 2 8 yesste of Boulogne, 
 
 about the room to Jessie, she responded by asking 
 him if he knew who the performers would be ? 
 Thus she showed she had no connexion with the 
 opera troupe, and that Cyril's fancy had conjured 
 up a mere mistake. He wished he could fall down 
 and kiss her feet and beg her pardon for the fault. 
 She however did not seem to want to exercise any 
 cruelty towards him ; she merely was agreeable, 
 without any freedom or unmaidenly boldness, and 
 equally without any prudery : her manner being 
 simply according to the promptings of her own 
 pure virgin being. 
 
 We have spoken already of the extraordinary 
 grace of the style in which she stood. But there 
 was another astonishing element in her beauty, 
 which struck Cyril much, now that he sat beside 
 her. It was, the enhancement which a smile or 
 laugh gave to even her perfect features. The effect 
 was really amazing, and made her loveliness quite 
 rapturous, so that there, would he no wonder for one 
 who saw her, to break out into an ejaculation of 
 ecstasy, and to clasp the hands in a passion of 
 admiration ! Her face seemed to be lit up or 
 irradiated with the lustrousness of her soul, making 
 her beauty actually look something more than 
 human. This brilliant play, of genial lightning, 
 showed itself more or less, at every lively turn of 
 talk. Cyril saw it, even when she said playfully to 
 him, " I suppose you do not bring your nice dog to 
 such places as this ? and so he told her that his 
 canine comrade, though left behind, had a taste for
 
 Gallantry, 129 
 
 music; "At least," says Cyril, "he pretends to be 
 pleased whenever I perpetrate a few airs on the 
 violin or the flute." And this led the way to all 
 the little crossfire of query and reply, more merry 
 than Pinnock's Catechism, I can assure you ; and 
 all the more entertaining, when carried on between 
 two who liked each other. 
 
 The two English singers were handsome; Miss 
 Ellicott was quite pretty — but, well : never mind. 
 The music was good, and the artists did not belie 
 the commendations which Mrs. Fitzherbert had 
 lavished on them in advance. Cyril enjoyed him- 
 self profoundly ; what wanted he more, than good 
 music around him, and Jessie by his side ? ^ 
 
 But there was another cause contributing to his 
 enjoyment, even more than he was aware; and this 
 was that a change had taken place in Jessie, so far 
 as this, that she had thought much about him, since 
 they had parted on the cliff: and this was more 
 than Jessie had ever done about any young man 
 before. This change, which we would not call Jove, 
 or even fondness, but rather liking or attraction, 
 might be the precursor of imperishable love in a 
 heart so free from preoccupation as was Jessie's. 
 The feeling was utterly new to Jessie, nor did she 
 know what it was herself; it might expire, of its 
 own accord : but it was more likely to blaze on, 
 into an all-engrossing flame. 
 
 To explain this change, we must turn our atten- 
 tion backwards for a few moments. 
 
 When the Fitzherberts had come up to Cyril, and 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 130 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 Jessie and her aunt had passed away; the two 
 ladies walked on for a while, in silence. The elder 
 lady was revolving in her mind the remark which 
 Cyril had so earnestly made about how much he 
 wished that he could get a proper introduction. 
 This struck her as betokening a very just and 
 respectful sense of propriety, as well as a conscious- 
 ness that he possessed pretensions as regards birth 
 and friends which would justify intimacy with 
 anyone. Added to this, she felt how prepossessing 
 was his exterior, and how refined his manners. All 
 this impressed her so, that almost unconsciously, or 
 as if in a soliloquy, she expressed aloud the tenor 
 of her meditations, saying, — 
 
 " What a very superior, and unusually handsome, 
 young man ! " 
 
 This remark was what did the mischief. Jessie 
 made no reply; but the words at once sank deep 
 into her inmost soul. Perhaps the result would 
 have been all the same, in the long run; but the 
 words precipitated emotions in Jessie's young heart. 
 She was conscious that Cyril had manifested his 
 undisguised admiration of herself; so when she 
 heard him praised so highly by one on whose judg- 
 ment she leaned so much, she was prepared to em- 
 brace the conviction with joy. 
 
 Now here I must really turn and remonstrate 
 with the aunt (who is a favorite of mine). "Do 
 you not know, madam, that the young girl beside 
 you has her heart quite untrammelled and unhack- 
 neyed ? You know she has yet to be presented at
 
 Gallantry, 131 
 
 Court, and to make her dehui in society ; you are 
 aware that she has scarcely been at all in the 
 company of young men, and never ex}3osed to the 
 admiration or attentions of anyone. And yet here 
 you go and pass a strong encomium (deserved in- 
 deed) on Cyril, enough to make Jessie's tender 
 heart thrill towards him, with preference, the fore- 
 runner of love. How could you do so ? However, 
 I will not scold you more, now that the deed is 
 done, and the impression produced, which can never 
 be effaced. I will only add, madam, for your comfort, 
 that probably you have (as we say) only accelerated 
 feelings, which would no doubt have arisen into in- 
 tensity of their own accord, whether you had spoken 
 so kindly of Cyril or not ; because, it must be borne 
 in mind, that Cyril himself looked as incomparably 
 glorious and beautiful in Jessie's eyes, as she did in his. 
 The result was, that when Jessie, being a little 
 tired with her ramble, rested her dear form on a 
 sofa, after a light repast; she fell into a sort of 
 trance, or romance of dreamland, in which she and 
 the handsome stranger were associated together, like 
 the young man and maiden on her woolwork. She 
 dwelt and ranged over all that had passed between 
 them ; and the thought spread through the guileless 
 innocence of her heart, how delightful it would be 
 to be always with one, so gentle, so noble-looking, 
 so charming, and so admiring. She dropped into a 
 five minutes' slumber, in which roses and precipices, 
 and spaniels and Cyril, were all jumbled deliciously 
 together.
 
 1 3 2 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 Accordingly, when Jessie entered the concert- 
 room, she went on to take her place, and she merely 
 perceived that she got up so as to be next to a 
 gentleman, who looked like a bale of broadcloth, or 
 perhaps some old male dowager, stooping for his 
 spectacles ; so gathered-up was Cyril, over his 
 microscopic photograph. Hence, when Cyril sud- 
 denly straightened himself up, and Cyril saw Jessie 
 next him, and she recognized him, then her sofa 
 thoughts came back, with a whirl of gladness, too 
 rapid for criticism or control : and so, she showed a 
 little, and felt much more, that Cyril was a dear 
 and welcome sight, while a gush of happiness 
 welled over from her heart, and trembled through 
 her whole responsive frame. 
 
 This was the change in sweet Jessie ; and it com- 
 municated an additional charm to whatever s:he 
 said to him whom her heart approved. 
 
 Cyril would not make Jessie uncomfortable, or 
 draw attention to her, by any too rapt or marked 
 devotion on his part. So he talked with her aunt, 
 and conversed cheerily with the Fitzherberts, in the 
 intervals between the performances ; nevertheless, 
 he contrived to have a great deal of conversation 
 with Jessie herself, to the great satisfaction of both. 
 One or two remarks of Jessie's, coming in naturally, 
 were of a slightly " philosophic " turn, evincing 
 really very good sense ; and it was curious how 
 Cyril's approval, though not expressed, manifested 
 itself, through the honesty of his liking, quite as 
 much as if he had burst out into the exclamation,
 
 Gallantry, 133 
 
 to her, " What a very sensible darling you are ! " 
 His manner was tacit homage, the mental curtsey of 
 esteem. It was vividly perceptible to Jessie that 
 Cyril respected her intellect; and this is what a 
 clever girl of course likes, especially when she 
 cannot but know she is handsome : and when he 
 who appreciates her is obviously both intelligent 
 and good-looking, ready not only to admire but to 
 revere, giving her full credit for her bright trim 
 form, and rich swelling bust, and divinity of face, 
 but also valuing her divinity of mind. 
 
 They found plenty to prattle about ; and, if Cyril 
 had been artful and wily, he might have managed 
 both to make himself known, and also to elicit vho 
 Jessie's family and connexions were. But the fact 
 was, Cyril was too much enraptured, to have Jessie 
 to confer with, to be well able to think of any such- 
 like stratagems ; and, if the thought did occur, he 
 dismissed it, with the general sensation that his 
 renunciation of all manoeuvres had worked well 
 hitherto. He resolved that if the name of any 
 mutual acquaintance happened to crop up, he 
 would seize the opportunity to discover what he 
 might ; but, he determined he would not raise a 
 finger to force open the budding flower on the stalk 
 of time, which had already given him no less a bliss 
 than to have such an unim^agined being as Jessie 
 coming to him as it were out of the hands of Heaven, 
 and weaving her thoughts with his, and displaying 
 sympathy which might at length develop into love. 
 
 Cyril was right ; and if you want further to know
 
 134 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 my opinion, I may tell you that " this child " thinks 
 it is often in such instinctive decisions that the real 
 nobleness of nature is revealed. 
 
 Jessie and Cyril talked a bit about Boulogne 
 itself, and compared notes as to what they had seen. 
 Cyril thought the town would be improved more 
 than anything else by taking down all the houses 
 on the left-hand side of the Rue de la Lampe, which 
 was once called Rue Franklin, going from the Liane 
 bridge to the Grande Rue ; rebuilding the whole 
 side, and widening the street greatly, so as to get a 
 handsome approach instead of the present untidy 
 lane. He also maintained how strange it was 
 that the round of the crest of the hill, where he had 
 parted from her (she smiled), near the Tour d'Ordre, 
 should not be appropriated to good houses and 
 villas, the view being so agreeable and interesting 
 over the sea. The corresponding situation at 
 Ramsgate or St. Leonards would be thus occupied, 
 and all studded with superior residences ; whereas 
 at Boulogne the best situation is either unoccupied 
 or given up to the poorest hovels. 
 
 There is indeed a reason for this, just as there is 
 usually a bad reason for every bad business ; it is, 
 that, all round that handsome sweep, the ground 
 belongs to Government, and no one likes to build 
 thereon, because a new house could only be built 
 subject to the proviso that the erection might be 
 swept away, without compensation, at forty-eight 
 hours' notice, to " form fortifications ! " Notwith- 
 standing, whatever be the excuse, the fact remains,
 
 Gallantry, 135 
 
 that the worst houses in Boulogne are in the best 
 places ; sudi strange taste ! 
 
 Jessie gave it as her opinion that what Boulogne 
 wants most is an English Church ; she said she 
 would put it on the Esplanade, fronting the top of 
 the Grand Rue : " a nice genuine English Church, 
 with spire and all, since the ' City on an Hill ' is 
 not TYieant to he hid'' 
 
 Cyril was much struck and pleased at Jessie's 
 tone in saying this, implying religious convictions ; 
 and he well knew how unreliable is any woman 
 who has not at least some religion in her soul. 
 Even a fast young man likes to have piety, because 
 it means fidelity, in a wife. 
 
 Jessie fell foul of the chateau or citadel in the 
 Upper Town ; she said that if it had possessed ever 
 so little taste, it might have added dignity, but 
 now it only confers ugliness. 
 
 " Why is the back of it all bristling with long 
 iron fishing-rods ? " 
 
 " They, I suppose," said Cyril, " must be meant 
 for lightning-conductors ; and doubtless they denote 
 a powder magazine." 
 
 " That makes it still more dismal ; now, three or 
 four small turret towers, thrown up, would consort 
 with other French castles, and would be decorative, 
 without destroying the venerable antique : if this 
 could not be done, the whole thing had best be 
 pulled down, as it is now only a blank quarry: 
 even a row of modern barracks would be better." 
 
 Jessie thought the ramparts were anything but
 
 136 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 cheerful, indeed quite doleful, which nothing but 
 flowers could conquer ; nor did she think even these 
 would avail, when Cyril told her that the corner of 
 the ramparts facing the Grande Rue was where male- 
 factors used to be executed by the guillotine : she 
 shuddered, especially when Cyril reminded her, of 
 what she had noticed, when she had stood there, 
 that the top of the rampart at that spot was raw 
 and disturbed, as if from the last execution, though 
 long ago. Cyril had to banish the gaunt idea, by 
 telling her of the open-air ball, which she had not 
 been at, last night, in the tiny park called the 
 Tintelleries ; where there was a splutter of fire- 
 works, amid dancing and music and all the little 
 merry -go-lucky jovialities in which the light-hearted 
 French populace delight. 
 
 Cyril was rather severe on the chief Post-office, 
 in the Eue des Yieillards, or Old-Men's Street, 
 which name he said was suitable enough, as the 
 place was only in keeping with the early remini- 
 scences of " the oldest inhabitant," some Boulogne 
 Old Parr, or Old Jenkins, or other very " old man " ; 
 not indeed as regards the officials, who are civil and 
 polite, as all Frenchmen are, but the building itself 
 and its arrangement. The street has at different 
 times borne all sorts of names, such as Montesquieu, 
 and Tirewicq, and so forth ; but it is said to have 
 got its title Yieillards from some old-men's fete, 
 during one of the Revolutions : possibly it is called 
 after the Old Man, the Tour d'Ordre, as if Rue St. 
 Old-boy, or St. Caligula ? Here, however, the Post-
 
 Gallantry. 137 
 
 office is placed. Thus the office to which everyone 
 has to go about letters is in the middle of the very 
 steepest of all the streets, in a mere old house, with 
 not even the appearance of a public building ; the 
 only thing to lead one to think that, if it be a post- 
 office at all, it must be the head Post-office of the 
 town, is, that it is not a tobacco shop (it is at 
 tobacco shops, that postage stamps are sold). And 
 then, the locality is far away from both the rail- 
 way and the steam-packets; it ought to be in a 
 more accessible and central place, say, in the large 
 ugly Casernes or Barrack-hospital edifice, near 
 the fish-market, the ugliness being removed, if 
 possible. 
 
 " Besides," said Cyril, " so primitive and old-man- 
 nish and bad are the arrangements, that the receiving 
 box is open to the weather ; and hence, after drop- 
 ping a letter in, when I bethought myself to see 
 whether my epistle had duly descended the hopper 
 into the mail-mill, I found my letter lying on the 
 inclined board, actually sticking to it, as some rain 
 had got in : so, the next comer might have helped 
 himself to my letter : and I had to pick it up, and 
 pelt it down the hole." 
 
 Jessie was amused at this, and gave it as her 
 ukase, that they ought at least to put some shutter, 
 or cover, or wooden umbrella over the chief letter- 
 box. [She has, since, been obeyed in this ; as in- 
 deed she is to be obeyed in all other things.] But 
 though thus Cyril and Jessie constituted themselves 
 an Imperial Boulogne Improvement Committee, they
 
 138 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 agreed that the place was nice and agreeable, en- 
 dowed with many attractions. 
 
 At this point, though the concert was far from 
 being finished, Cyril observed that a servant-man 
 came forward ; the man was stylish and evidently 
 in livery, though the livery was hidden by the 
 nocturnal great coat ; he looked a tip-top specimen 
 of that unique animal, the Belgravian flunkey, and 
 he seemed to have been told to present himself at 
 some fixed hour, independent of the course of the 
 music. He managed to come forward and whisper 
 to the aunt, probably to tell her that the carriage 
 was in readiness. 
 
 Cyril saw in a moment that his talk with Jessie 
 was now to come to an end ; and fearing lest, if he 
 delayed, he might lose all opportunity of saying 
 anything finally to her, he gently took her hand, 
 and lightly pressing it, he said to her (and he 
 looked beautiful himself while he said it) in a low 
 earnest voice, — 
 
 "Let me thank you most fervently, dear lovely lady, 
 for the great pleasure! have had in your company." 
 
 Their eyes met ; while Jessie looked at him, and 
 grew pale, as if with fear. 
 
 And there was fear ; the fearful presence of the 
 mighty love of a strong man's heart : for Jessie saw 
 and felt that he loved her, which might well make 
 the young maiden tremble. Still, with the fear or 
 awe, there mingled a sweet sense of gratitude and 
 joy; which, however, with a modest girl's instinct, 
 she sought to quench.
 
 Gallantry. 139 
 
 She made no reply, being absolutely unable to 
 articulate anything. 
 
 Cyril was at a loss to know how his obeisance 
 was received. And as the aunt was rising to depart, 
 he rose and asked her, with every mark of true 
 consideration and respect, whether he might be per- 
 mitted to wait on her to the door ; but she, though 
 without anything freezing or repellent, said it was 
 not necessary, and wished him good evening, in a 
 manner as pleasant and courteous as possible. 
 
 Considering that he had the skittish Fitzherberts 
 by his side, Cyril managed pretty well to hide his 
 emotions, and repress the whirlwind of thought. 
 Suchlike is often one's doom in polished society, 
 to look happy or content, or even to volunteer jests, 
 while sorrow, or concern, or anxiety, or deep feeling 
 may be gnawing at the vitals. 
 
 When thus the ladies had withdrawn, the Fitz- 
 herberts remained for some time longer ; however, 
 at length Cyril got home to his own rooms, though 
 with little chance of sleep. 
 
 He thought how this was the first day he had 
 ever seen Jessie ; and yet he had been thrice brought 
 into her company, and she had evinced regard and 
 friendship for him. He had also been able to give 
 some expression to a little of all the admiration and 
 affection he felt. 
 
 But, then, she had not returned his pressure of 
 her hand ! 
 
 And yet, how could he expect that she should 
 have done anything of the sort ?
 
 140 Jessie of Boulogne, * 
 
 She had plainly understood his look and speech 
 as an avowal of love. He saw she was much star- 
 tled and overcome ; but was she displeased ? had he 
 indeed been too abrupt, so as to shock her young 
 sensibilities, and to neutralize any rising feeling of 
 predilection ? 
 
 None but those who have truly loved, can tell 
 how deeply and powerfully Cyril was moved. The 
 mystery also and indefiniteness which hung over 
 her who had taken his heart by storm, might well 
 excite and perplex him. 
 
 And, what was passing in Jessie's heart ? She 
 was, before this, fast asleep, as became a fine brave 
 lass, rich in good health, and youth, and a pure con- 
 science. 
 
 And yet there had been much commotion in her 
 breast ; as might well be, since she was as yet scarcely 
 a woman, and almost a child. To be loved, and by 
 one so beautiful ! What words could describe the 
 soft and dulcet thoughts and hopes which possessed 
 her frame, when she laid her fair cheek upon her 
 pillow. It is in such a case, where youth and truth 
 and purity combine, that the feeling of love is more 
 entrancing than can be elsewhere felt. 
 
 Next morning, while Cyril was wondering 
 whether his good fortune would bring him to-day 
 near Jessie again, he received the letter which (we 
 saw) George Thornton wrote to him, and which cer- 
 tainly was short and sweet, being simply couched in 
 these words, " I'm coming to you." 
 
 Cyril's first feeling was one of rebellion, as if he
 
 Gallantry » 141 
 
 would say, " I shall not go on my travels, after all ! " 
 Still, the next moment he felt this would be vacilla- 
 ting and faithless to Greorge. It was plain his diffi- 
 culties were closing around him, and becoming more 
 intricate and confused. How could he go off to 
 wander in the East, when his heart was in Jessie's 
 keeping ? However, he must wait for George, as 
 George was now coming to him, in answer to his 
 own request. 
 
 Feeling in want of the reviving air, Cyril wan- 
 dered about the port, and the pier, and the cliff, 
 and the streets ; but nowhere did he see the ladies 
 whom he hoped to meet. 
 
 Crossing the Liane bridge, to Cap^cure, he ob- 
 served how the floodgates keeping in the waters of 
 the high tide, gave the aspect of a handsome lake 
 to the river, adorned as it was with boats ; and pro- 
 ceeding upwards, he got what is the best view of 
 the town, where it is seen swelling up from this 
 river-lake. Stretching his walk on towards Outreau, 
 he was more than ever impressed with the bad pro- 
 portions of the cathedral of Boulogne, Notre Dame, 
 for the very reason that from this point of view, 
 and this only, the dome looks symmetrical and in 
 unison with the rest ; but why ? because the separate 
 buildings, such as the tall old clock-tower or Belfry, 
 140 feet high, and other lofty edifices, group them- 
 selves so as to make them look like parts of the 
 cathedral. This shows how very much bigger the 
 body of the church ought to be, to consort with the 
 ambitious insolent height of the dome. It is doubt-
 
 142 Jessie of Boulog 
 
 erne. 
 
 ful even if two (or four or six) high towers like the 
 western pinnacles of St. Paul's would create har- 
 mony between the body and the dome ; still, it 
 would be worth while to try whether a couple of 
 such towers might not mend the faults of the 
 structure. 
 
 Getting conscious that he was not likely to meet 
 Jessie out there, he returned towards the bridge 
 and the town. He wished he could have Jessie 
 with him, at least to continue the " improvement " 
 discussion of last night; since it struck him strongly 
 that two bridges were too few for Boulogne, and 
 that there ought to be another bridge, to give com- 
 munication to the steep Brequerecque (or Break- 
 your-neck) quarter, near the Abbatoir, or at least, 
 at the head of the river-lake. 
 
 Settling this (subject to Jessie's sanction), he 
 crossed one bridge, and came down to the other 
 bridge which is next the sea, called the Pont du 
 Barrage, leading from the Quai de la Victoire to the 
 elegant railway station. 
 
 On the town side of this bridge he stopped, where 
 he found a considerable crowd assembled, as it 
 seems a poor workman had been severely hurt 
 while unloading one of the ships, some heavy sub- 
 stance having fallen on him and crushed him; 
 people were now carrying him to his home, pro- 
 bably to die ! and such an accident usually attracts 
 a throng. The people, however, had to stop at the 
 bridge, across which they wanted to carry him, 
 because the Pont du Barrage is a sort of double
 
 Gallantry, ' 143 
 
 swing bridge, the middle of it turning on a pair of 
 pivots to permit the ingress or egress of vessels ; 
 and it had just begun to partly open, for a barge or 
 derrick to pass through. The matter did not seem 
 to be managed as well as doubtless it mostly is, 
 contradictory orders and efforts being put forth, for 
 the bridge not to be swung, and also for it to he 
 opened, and the barge to be got rid of, that the 
 injured man might be borne on. One could imagine 
 that the bridge itself was " nervous," and did not 
 know whether to swallow the barge or pass the 
 sufferer. 
 
 Cyril came up in order to see if he could be of 
 any use ; but he could not well make out what was 
 the state of the case. He only saw, over the heads 
 of some little Frenchmen, that Jessie and her aunt 
 were at the very place where the bridge seemed 
 undecided whether to turn itself round or not. 
 
 How the ladies got there he did not know ; pro- 
 bably they had been over at the railway station, 
 to look at it, or to make some inquiries : and they 
 were returning, and had re-crossed the bridge, and 
 had got to the town side of it, when the crowd with 
 the wounded man hindered their advance, and the 
 opening bridge behind them prevented their re- 
 treat. 
 
 The middle of a surging crowd is the most un- 
 pleasant of all human positions ; it is always an 
 ominous, and sometimes a perilous, post. Cyril 
 thought, what if Jessie should be swept, or pushed, 
 or elbowed into the water, by that most selfish of
 
 144 Jessie of Boulog7ie. 
 
 all monsters, a struggling mob ? The water at the 
 spot is rather deep ; and sometimes it rushes very 
 furiously through the sluices of the bridge. If even 
 a good swimmer was shoved in, he might be borne 
 down and overwhelmed and lost. To Jessie it 
 would be destruction. 
 
 She might even fall in, of herself, through 
 nervousness or a desire to escape ; since there was 
 much noise, with men now shouting fiercely, and 
 gesticulating, and the whole occasion having an 
 alarming look. It will be observed that Cyril 
 seemed to think only of Jessie ; though the aunt 
 was so handsome (and was she fond of Cyril ?), he 
 seemed almost to overlook her, and to think of 
 Jessie alone. Love must excuse him ; indeed, love 
 can pardon many things. 
 
 Cyril squeezed forward by the parapet, and 
 forced himself toward her through the throng ; and 
 just as he was doing so, the bearers of the suffering 
 man took him, with the bier or pallet on which he 
 lay, and said, angrily, they would bring him on over 
 the bridge : probably they only meant thus to force 
 some conclusion to be come to : still, often even 
 amid such '' moral " pressure there is apt to be an 
 '' ugly rush," in which some one always suffers or 
 sinks : and what if it should be Jessie, the pearl of 
 the human race ? 
 
 At the same time, though the barge began to 
 haul itself back, out of the way, as if obeying the 
 crowd, part of the bridge itself began to move, to 
 open wider ; and at this there was an indignant yell,
 
 Gallantry. 145 
 
 with cries of " Shame," '' Inhuman," " Blood]' " Fe- 
 low-creature's Life/' and the like : and on the men 
 came, towards the edge, as if it was not their faulty 
 if they and the dying man were precipitated into 
 the water. The aunt and Jessie were also at the 
 edofe ; and when Jessie saw the menacino- and 
 onward movement of the mass of men, now brino^- 
 ing on and on the injured man, who was writhing 
 under a bloodied cloth, she recoiled naturally : and 
 so, as she seemed to have particularly agile and 
 elastic use of her perfect limbs, she, with the ease 
 of an antelope, sprang back upon the part of the 
 bridge which was in motion : and thus Jessie stood 
 there alone ! everyone else having got off it. Sfce 
 did not look alarmed, only excited ! and incredibly 
 pretty. Probably she luas more frightened than 
 she appeared to be. All the while, the situation 
 was not unsafe in itself; and even after the whole 
 machine had revolved, she need not be considered 
 isolated, because it was only necessary to wait a 
 little, and thus get back to the same roadway 
 from which she had so buoyantly and beautifully 
 bounded. 
 
 But, if the top fiat coping of the wall of a house 
 is perhaps a foot or more broad, and therefore ought 
 to be safe walking, in theory; still, like Anne of 
 Gierstein's single-stone arch, it is a very trying and 
 really dangerous path in practice : so, also, might 
 not the lovely young girl be seized by a panic, and 
 want to rejoin her aunt, and fail to reach the edge, 
 if she now tries to spring back again over tlie more 
 
 VOL. I. iO
 
 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 and more widening space ? or might not some other 
 sad catastrophe occur ? 
 
 This last idea was what seemed to ensrross the 
 mind of the multitude; for, now, many persons 
 were vociferating to her, and though they seemed 
 to be adjuring her to keep quiet, this very appeal 
 might bewilder her. None of them went to help 
 her. Singularly enough, looking at her, and having 
 a new object before them, the people appeared to 
 lose their irritation ; as if she was a victim, to pro- 
 pitiate their passions. 
 
 By this time Cyril had forced his way to the 
 front, where the aunt was in much distress, as if 
 she would and she must go across to Jessie at any 
 risk. But Cyril came to her, and said firmly, " Do 
 not stir, do not disquiet yourself, dear lady, there is 
 no danger ; " which words (is it not wonderful what 
 influence a sensible courageous man has over the 
 finest female ?) gave her instantaneous confidence 
 and bravery, enabling her to recover her presence of 
 mind. 
 
 At once Cyril, with the facile full stride of a 
 gymnast, passed over, on to the bridge, and stood 
 a little distance from Jessie. 
 
 Cyril never did anything more happily and 
 adroitly than this. 
 
 To one not in the secret, it might seem as if he 
 acted without any motive. He apparently lounged 
 to where he stood, rather than leaped with a 
 purpose. It looked as if he neither knew nor cared 
 for Jessie. He did not go up to her, and bow and
 
 Gallantry, 147 
 
 scrape, and place his hand on his heart, or even 
 raise his hat, or offer her his arm, or go on with any 
 fiddle-faddle fandangos of politeness, which would 
 only have agitated her, and perhaps have made her 
 faint. 
 
 He was there. That was all. 
 
 This might not be like what many people woul(^ 
 have done ; but, then Cyril was not one of the 
 ordinary run of " folks." In him there was intellect 
 of colossal power, attempered by an almost feminine 
 delicacy and gentleness. 
 
 Moreover, he acted in such a way as he was sure 
 would be appreciated by the two refined tastes 
 whom he thought of alone ; and he would have felt 
 well repaid, if he now could have heard, the o^e 
 word, " Admirable ! " which the aunt murmured to 
 herself while looking at him. 
 
 The significancy of his attitude was simply this, 
 that, if there was any danger, he was there, to 
 share it with Jessie. 
 
 Also, if any one should say, "What 'business' has 
 that young woman there ? " now, a young man is in 
 the same business also. Likewise, if any one was 
 irreverent enough to say or think, " How silly and 
 stupid of her to get there ! " the same must be said 
 of Cyril, and he did not look like one whom it 
 would be prudent to say guch things of too freely. 
 Floss was not there, crouching at his feet, where 
 perhaps it might be supposed he ought to be ; and 
 doubtless Floss could easily have sprung across a 
 greater space : but the fact was, Floss remained
 
 148 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 beside the aunt, positively as if it was to console 
 her for Jessie's absence, and to give her courage by 
 the companionship — quite as if Floss argued that 
 he and the aunt on one side of the chasm, and 
 Jessie and Cyril on the other, made an equitable 
 and graceful division of the four important per- 
 sonages of the occasion. 
 
 And now, so it happened, the part of the bridge 
 came back again. Whether it was a marine deity, 
 and oscillated thus of its own accord, I cannot say. 
 Possibly it was only the tide; or was the act 
 governed by somebody's impulse of humanit}^, to 
 let the injured man pass on ? Or, was it the French 
 people's spell of gallantry, to let the beautiful girl 
 regain her place ? Nay, Cyril had waved his hand, 
 and it looked as if Cyril was the cause. At least 
 Jessie thought so ; and she must be right. 
 
 However it was, the machinery swayed back, and 
 fitted smooth, and Jessie stepped off it without the 
 least discomfort. " Thank you, thank you," was 
 the aunt's very warm acknowledgment. 
 
 Jessie said nothing; but her silence itself was 
 eloquent : was it notf 
 
 Now, however, the crush was coming on ; and 
 Cyril was concerned to see that the crowd had 
 rapidly agglomerated, and that it tailed off, up to- 
 ward the town, much more densely than he could 
 have supposed. So he told his fair charges, " Follow 
 me, in single file ; " and he crossed his arms on his 
 breast, as if it was to make himself more broad and 
 bnrly, in order to open a way for the ladies through
 
 Gallantry, 149 
 
 the mass of people. He moved on, stalwart and 
 indomitable ; Jessie came next to him, and the 
 aunt, who evidently thought Jessie more safe in the 
 middle, brought up the rear, with Floss. 
 
 They had to pass close by the mangled man ; the 
 spectacle was very harrowing, as he was moving and 
 moaning under the soaked and ensanguined sheet : 
 and such a form, under such a stained white pall, 
 looks far more ghastly than the sufferer himself 
 would look. Cyril held out a glittering gold coin 
 to the person who seemed most connected with the 
 poor man; and the three (Floss made four) had a 
 lane or passage left for them to pass on, amid de- 
 monstrations of respect. ♦ 
 
 But after they had got a little way beyond this 
 immediate portion of the people, the press seemed 
 to grow more compact than ever. 
 
 And, as Cyril struggled on, he was stopped by an 
 official in a cocked hat, w^ho said to him in French 
 with rather a stately air, " Permit me to speak to 
 you, sir, if you please. 
 
 Cyril thought, " Well, now, am I going to be ar- 
 rested, for transgressing perhaps some municipal 
 ordinance about the bridge when in motion ? " and 
 he almost smiled at the idea of Jessie and himself 
 going to gaol together. 
 
 Had Cyril been longer a resident in the place, he 
 would have known that the Boulogne policemen 
 and cocked hat functionaries are ready to execute 
 most obligingly all sorts of little commissions, such 
 as the British policemen would not be allowed to
 
 150 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 perform, and would not undertake if they might. 
 Thus a cocked hat will stop you, with an attitude 
 of much importance, to inform you that a gentleman 
 is at your house who wants to know whether you 
 will go and dine with him (fee, one franc). An- 
 other calls on you with a martial and swashing 
 outside, which would suit the grand crusader, God- 
 frey de Bouillon, and you fancy whether you are to 
 be a compulsory recruit ; indeed, if you are at all 
 imaginative, you feel yourself half way to Ascalon 
 and Gath already : but, alas, the degenerate French 
 " warrior " is only begging for some nunnery 
 charity. 
 
 By the way, as we have just ("incontinently") 
 named Godfrey de Bouillon, it would be treason to 
 the place to mention that pink of chivalry, whom 
 Tasso extols, Godfrey de Bouillon, without noticing 
 that he belongs to Boulogne-sur-Mer ; and (presto !) 
 there is a gay little gingerbread popish chapel to 
 his honor on the Paris road: I suppose he is a 
 saint, because he died a bachelor. He was chief of 
 the First Crusade in 1095, and his surname Bouillon 
 is the Flemish Bouillon in Luxemburg, near Sedan, 
 and he was called after Bouillon because the town 
 belonged to his mother as part of her dowry. But 
 Fairfax calls him " Godfrey of Boulogne ; " and Dr. 
 Brewer styles Godfrey ** a nobleman of Boulogne in 
 France." Godfrey's mother was undoubtedly coun- 
 tess of Boulogne-sur-Mer ; and in the writer, Guil- 
 laume de Tyr, who wrote a history of the Crusades 
 in the year 1169, and whom Guizot translated, there
 
 Gallantry, 151 
 
 is the very circumstantial statement, that '' Godfrey 
 was born at Boulogne, on the shore of the English 
 sea, in the kingdom of France." 
 
 But, to return from old crusaders to modern 
 police. The name for such an official is appariteur 
 or beadle. One of them, with awful solemnity, will 
 bring you — your glove if you drop it (another franc). 
 Again, a cocked hat calls at your door, and demands 
 to see you, and comes into your presence with a sort 
 of I'm-sorry-to-have-to-do-it manner, and of course 
 you have someway made yourself amenable to the 
 meshes of French law, which does forbid sword- 
 canes and air guns, and perhaps forbids bootjacks 
 also ! But the cocked hat only wants to know 
 whether you will subscribe to the races (a fact); 
 or, again (fact No. 2), another comes and wishes you 
 to invest one franc in purchasing from him a ticket 
 for the " Loterie au profit des Enfants des Salles 
 d'Asile (infant Schools), le Mercredi 3 Septembre^ 
 1862, a trois heures, au College Communal." (Be- 
 lieve me, your ticket never wins ; these very police- 
 men get all the prizes.) 
 
 And thus it happened that the only notification 
 which the cocked hat in the present instance had to 
 deliver was to expound to Cyril that " a registered 
 letter had just come for him at his hotel, and he 
 had to sign a receipt.'^ 
 
 The man had earned his gratuity, but Cyril 
 would rather have awarded him some bad-conduct 
 "stripes"; for thus Cyril had incurred the great 
 vexation of losing sight of his convoy.
 
 152 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 GONE ASTRAY. 
 
 " A.nd the tender soul that cannot part, 
 A twine of evergreen fondly wreathes." 
 
 Percival, 
 
 Nothing but the novel idea that he had got into 
 some trouble with "the authorities," could have 
 made Cyril give any attention to anybody, when 
 he had two such precious charges following him. 
 
 It did not take long for the solemn and civil 
 official to give the message which he had been 
 asked at the hotel to deliver, " if he met Mr. 
 Grosvenor," whom, with the usual lynx-eyed attri- 
 bute of his race, he knew by sight, having noted 
 him as generous and largess-giving. 
 
 Short as the time was in which the message was 
 delivered, Cyril no sooner heard what it was, and 
 turned quickly round, than he discovered that the 
 ladies had vanished. 
 
 We saw that they had not been leaning on his 
 arm, but were walking after him in Indian file, the 
 better to thread the crowd. This very circum- 
 stance, however, had now severed him from^ their 
 company.
 
 Gone Astray. 153 
 
 Cyril was almost ready to rave with annoyance 
 and vexation. It seemed as if it was fated that 
 whenever he might hope to become more intimate 
 with Jessie, something or other at once interposed 
 to keep them asunder. His happiness is always 
 put off ; he is always " to be " blest ! 
 
 If Cyril had confided his trouble to the cocked 
 hat, it is very probable that he would have made 
 better, or at least more rapid, progress; but this 
 would have been quite contrary to all his instincts. 
 His impulse was, to search on his own account. He 
 rushed here and there, to the great ilustrification of 
 sundry gaping bodies, whose ribs or toes suffered 
 for being in his way ; he dashed in another direc- 
 tion, and looked, and glared, and scanned, and 
 gazed, as if he would fain see through everybody, 
 enfilading them with the lightnings of his eye. One 
 fat old Frenchman (many Frenchmen are fat, of the 
 flabby kind of fatness) he came squash against, and 
 sent him rolling over and over as roundly as one of 
 his own barrels of herrings. Cyril did not even 
 perceive it ; he merely took care not to knock down 
 any fish woman or woman of any kind : he did not 
 even notice that Floss was missing. A few more 
 plunges, and Cyril was outside the crowd; when, 
 who should rush up to him but Floss ! 
 
 The dog looked ridiculously " put out " or 
 bothered, just as a greyhound does when it loses a 
 hare ; the honest dog, if it could only have spoken, 
 might have enlightened him as to a thing or two. 
 All it could now accomplish in that way was, to
 
 154 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 bark in a demonstrative manner at an empty voi- 
 tare, or " fly," which drove along. 
 
 " Ah," said Cyril, with a swing of his arm which 
 would have floored half a dozen French troopers, 
 '' that is it ; yes, to be sure, they have got into a 
 conveyance, and have gone off", away from me ! " 
 
 Nor was he far wrong, in the part of this sup- 
 position, to which Floss had led him. For, when 
 Cyril gave the money for the wounded man, whose 
 friends, pleased at his liberality, made way for him 
 and the ladies, he got on naturally at a more rapid 
 rate, being so far free from the obstructions which 
 had impeded him. Hence Jessie was a little further 
 behind him than she was at first; and when the 
 crowd soon thickened again, there was still an in- 
 terval, because he had to perforate these new 
 masses. Consequently when Cyril happened to 
 come plump upon the cocked hat man, the ladies 
 saw that some affair of his own was presenting 
 itself to him ; so, they instinctively felt, they should 
 not (as it were) hang on him, or watch him, or seem 
 to say, '* What is it you are talking about ? " Here 
 was enough impulse to remove them a little from 
 him ; besides which, the onward-pushing crowd 
 (according to the law of mechanics) made the 
 ladies, with their weaker momentum, not so much 
 fall back, as swerve to one side. Thus, they got to 
 be two off" from him, then three off", then soon four, 
 and more ; yet, they felt sure he would reach 
 them. 
 
 They also found, the fact was, they made very
 
 Gone Astray. 155 
 
 good way of themselves ; because Frenchmen are 
 always more or less ready to make room for a lady : 
 and it is questionable whether it would not have 
 been better generalship to put such a goddess of a 
 girl as Jessie in the front, rather than Cyril, to 
 permeate a mob of gentlemanly Gauls. Both 
 ladies also the more strongly thought that Cyril 
 would rejoin them, because Floss kept company 
 with them. They went on, and on ; but there was 
 no Cyril. 
 
 And now a new matter of urgency arose ; as 
 Jessie felt unwell. The sight of the poor man's 
 blood, and his contortions under the hideous cloth, 
 had been, as may be supposed, too much for her ;• on 
 many persons such scenes have a terribly sickening 
 effect : and sweet Jessie's organization was too truly 
 feminine, too feeling and gentle, to be apathetic at 
 so appalling a spectacle. Thus, they must huny 
 home, Cyril, or no Cyril ! 
 
 In this manner they had strayed from him ; and 
 equally, when he started to look for them, he of 
 course (as is always the human bias or luck in such 
 cases) went exactly the wrong way. They had also 
 got much further on, towards the town, than where 
 he at first supposed they could be ; so his researches 
 were in the beginning considerably behind where 
 the ladies had arrived at. 
 
 By our observing these minute and as if pre-Raf- 
 faellite particulars, we keep abreast of the real 
 interests of the case. 
 
 The ladies both felt they could not wait for him.
 
 15^ Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 They looked for him, they lingered ; but he did not 
 come ! They must hasten away ! 
 
 And then they saw not far from them, one of 
 those natty two-horse hackney carriages, of which 
 there are ninety-nine in number, and which are among 
 the Mysteries of Boulogne ; because, why they all have 
 two horses, when one horse and a smaller carriage 
 would do, and why there is no po-shay like the 
 ugly yet snug London cab, is as inexplicable as why 
 all French drivers and carters are always cracking 
 their whips in a way which would set English 
 horses mad. A French driver will crack his long 
 whip, backwards and forwards, for five minutes, 
 crack — crack — crack — -crack, very loud, to be heard 
 half a mile off, and as quick as the quarter-second 
 ticks of your watch. No Englishman can crackle 
 at such a rate, if he tries ; it is a " French people's " 
 peculiarity, or disease, like their chins breaking out 
 into goatee beards. Their horses do not seem to 
 mind it, and rather like it, having doubtless found 
 out that their backs cannot suffer while such music 
 is going on ; so it is to them like the old-fashioned 
 seventeenth century bells, which are still worn by 
 the horses of the stage-coaches, for instance, the 
 Calais coach or dilio^ence, which lumbers alono: at 
 five miles an hour, with five horses, two in the 
 shafts and three abreast in front, all the horses 
 being bellringers, and all the horses being white : so 
 odd ! it will be quite a pity when the railroad soon 
 supersedes so venerable and slow an '' institution." 
 As to speed, you can walk (as I have done) from
 
 Gone Astray. i^^j 
 
 Boulogne to Calais quicker than the five horses can 
 go. And as to the whiteness of the horses, I would 
 point out, that all through the department of the 
 channel or Pass, or Fas de Calais, you seldom see 
 horses of any other color but white, except in 
 millers' carts, where the horses are uniformly of a 
 dark hue, through some perversity of things. In- 
 deed, I would suggest to the local philosophers, 
 whether the " White Horse " of Hanover must not 
 be a mistake, being by rights the white horse of 
 Calais ? Let M. Leucippe see to it. And if any 
 English philosophers, with a fellow-feeling, want to 
 know about the asses, I can tell them that the 
 Boulogne donkeys (the four-footed ones) are very 
 numerous, very good, and very dear, as you will 
 have to give 125 francs or £5 sterling for one, which 
 perhaps is more than you are worth. 
 
 During this zoological digression, you of course 
 have fully comprehended that such was about the 
 interval durino^ which the ladies still linsfered, in 
 hopes Cyril would appear, that they might part 
 civilly from him, without seeming to turn their 
 backs abruptly on him. 
 
 Floss seemed most curiously to understand how 
 matters were ; and never was a dog apparently more 
 perplexed. Jessie, being oppressed, did not look 
 about for Cyril, so much as her aunt did ; Jessie was 
 more engaged with Floss. The dog sat up again in 
 his old way before her, but she felt now, not merry 
 his tricks, but sad. She laid her hand once more at 
 on his head ; and she also bent down over him : did
 
 158 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 she kiss liim ? perhaps she did. However, Jessie, 
 while stooping over the dog, saw something which 
 attracted her very much, and this was the dog's 
 collar. 
 
 You must know that in this particular, as in all 
 others, Cyril was very choice and precise in his 
 tastes. So, as the cost was of no consideration to 
 him, nothing less would do him than to have the 
 collar made of pure solid gold. It was not very 
 broad, yet massive, a flat band of beautiful dull 
 dead gold ; and upon the collar was the inscription 
 in capital letters, " Floss : Cyril Grosvenor." These 
 letters were of blue enamel ; they were very small, 
 yet extremely legible when you looked close : and 
 they were so arranged that they followed the whole 
 circuit of the collar. The words " Floss : Cyril " 
 were on the top of the collar ; and the one word 
 '' Grosvenor " went all underneath the neck. Hence 
 Jessie did not see the word Grosvenor; but her 
 eyes caught very easily the two words, which were 
 brightly di&tinct in beautiful blue letters, " Floss : 
 Cyril." 
 
 Jessie had not heard Cyril use any name to his 
 dog; and now she learned, in this manner, not only 
 that Floss was the dog's name, but also now she 
 discovered, for the first time, that " Cyril " was the 
 Christian name of him whom her heart loved. 
 
 So many thoughts crowded upon her mind, and 
 so confused did she become, as if everything was 
 unreal around her, that she could say nothing, and 
 was helped into the vehicle y where a few diamond
 
 Gone Astray. 159 
 
 tears, shed from her downcast eyes, relieved her, 
 and the sickness and faintness passed away. The 
 aunt followed her, and Floss also seemed to contem- 
 plate getting inside ; but, his marked liking for 
 Jessie was conquered by his old fealty to his 
 master : so, while he drew back^ the ladies were 
 driven away, and Floss ran off and found Cyril, as 
 we saw, and Floss was the means of suggesting to 
 Cyril what had actually happened. 
 
 All this occurred in a very brief space of time ; 
 and Cyril perceived that, for the present at least, he 
 had hopelessly lost sight of Jessie. 
 
 What mortified him the most was„ the idea, 
 which now seized him, that the ladies had avoided 
 him on purpose, and were glad to get away frdln 
 him. Cyril was not one to magnify overmuch any 
 little services of his ; still, he was reasonably con- 
 scious that he had been useful and well-intentioned : 
 wherefore, although he would never speak or dream 
 of anything so great as gratitude being felt, yet 
 he could not but trace that this instance was one 
 in which all the little ornamental hyperboles of 
 courtesy, such as " ten thousand thanks," and "for 
 ever obliged/' were deserved, and would be appro- 
 priate. 
 
 But, he got no thanks from Jessie ; he even 
 fancied she was less cordial to him than the aunt 
 was : and both of the ladies had now taken advan- 
 tage of the circumstances, to go clear off, and leave 
 him in the lurch, like " useless seaweed " on the 
 shore of time.
 
 i6o Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 Could he, then, accuse such ladies, who were 
 the very soul of politeness, of a breach of good 
 manners ? Clearly not. Accordingly he could only 
 conclude that the case was one which soared beyond 
 the mere question of courtesy. In other words^ 
 his rejection was his own fault; for though he 
 might be tolerated as an acquaintance, he was not 
 to be endured as a suitor or lover of a " child " like 
 Jessie. He had therefore been tried, and weighed, 
 and discarded ! And the importance of the question 
 at stake, being no less than Jessie's peace of mind, 
 more than justified any apparent harshness, which 
 might look like absolute rudeness, but was only 
 firmness and prudence. Indeed, even the severity 
 of dismissing him thus summarily, might doubtless 
 be called the kindest course, as '' extinguishing " 
 hopes which could never be realized, and saving 
 him from a more cumulative disappointment here- 
 after. 
 
 While arriving at this bitter inference, Cyril was 
 striding away, whither he neither knew nor cared, 
 at the rate of fully five miles an hour, as fast as any 
 French " diligence " at its best pace. 
 
 Eight up one of the streets he went, mounting 
 the hill ; and he was only made to moderate his 
 speed by jolting against the bellman, or town-crier, 
 who nearly came to grief, for being in the way of 
 Cyril's impetuous career. 
 
 This individual is a long dirty-looking unkempt 
 brown being, whose office is to hold up a little brass 
 basin, which looks like a round pie-dish or custard
 
 Gone Astray, i6i 
 
 baking-tray, and his head is slewed aside obliquely, 
 as if he was doing the cleverest thing in creation ; 
 and then with a sly leer, which would befit a 
 maniac gorilla, he hits his brass basin with a small 
 iron drumstick, producing a quick ding-ding-ding, 
 to " seven places of decimals," finishing ofi' trium- 
 phantly with a florishing ding-dang (not ding- 
 dong, but ding-dang) ! and then comes the an- 
 nouncement about some auction of " English " 
 furniture, or the like. 
 
 Cyril was half- delirious with vexation and de- 
 spair; however, a sardonic laugh, at the idea of 
 sending the bellman round, to offer a reward for 
 Jessie, did him good, and operated as a sedative, Jo 
 give him more composure both of pace and of 
 thought. He seemed previously to have been bent 
 on taking a steeplechase, as if toward the Napoleon 
 Column in the neighbourhood, which, 150 feet high, 
 is surmounted by a figure of the First Napoleon as 
 he instituted the Legion of Honor ; while the first 
 stone bears within it the significant inscription, 
 '' First Stone, of the Monument voted by the Ex'pe- 
 ditionary Army of Boulogne, aiid the Flotilla, to 
 the Emperor Napoleon : placed by Marshal Soult, 
 Commander-in-Chief, on the ninth of November 
 1804." 
 
 The idea of such a steeplechase as this made 
 Cyril stop and reason with himself, that, if he was 
 rejected, or even (call it) jilted, there was no use in 
 trying to run away from his own thoughts. 
 
 " Alas, alas," said he to himself, as he now moved 
 
 VOL. I. 11
 
 1 62 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 slowly along the Promenade de la Bienfaisance, " it ' 
 was all my unhappy forwardness, in taking hold of 
 her hand and pressing it, at the concert. She has 
 never been the same since. I have seen, in some 
 novel or other delineator of emotions, that when a 
 grown-up man loves a very young girl, and preci- 
 pitately declares to her his passion, she is apt not 
 only to be alarmed, but also soon to dislike the very 
 idea of him, and at length to detest him and abhor 
 him ; whereas if he had been less hasty, she might 
 first have felt flattered by him, and then liked him, 
 and at last loved him. Just so," said poor Cyril, 
 ''when I showed my love for her, even more by my 
 manner than either by my words or by my pressure 
 of her hand; I saw unmistakable alarm in the 
 depth of her glorious eyes : how beautiful was 
 that timidity of the startled maiden ! and yet how 
 awful was it, as if its voice were doom, since it is 
 to be the knell of any happiness for me, and the 
 source of my life-long sorrow I It was the 
 ' avaunt ! ' which I never shall get over. Why did 
 I bring it on myself ? Why need I have been so 
 wildly impatient ? I previously seemed to be not 
 distasteful to her. Why, then, should I have gone 
 and presumed that her heart could be instanta- 
 neously inflamed like my own ? If it is no wonder 
 that I should love such perfections as hers, the very 
 first day I saw her, that is no reason why I should 
 expect her to feel alike towards m.e ! " 
 
 At length Cyril reasoned himself into the reso- 
 lution that the best thing he could do would be
 
 Gone Astray, 163 
 
 to try and meet her once more, and then simply 
 to go up to her and entreat her to pardon him for 
 having annoyed her, and to ask her not any longer to 
 abominate him, as he should never force his presence 
 on her any more ; nor need she continue to hate 
 him, as he was going to the other side of the world, 
 and thus she should henceforth be free from his 
 unwelcome intrusions. 
 
 Resolved on this course, he went off to the Grande 
 Rue, where he met droves of Dinahs, with scores ol 
 hats, bonnets, and crinolines, in other words, plenty 
 of pretty girls, but no Jessie. 
 
 In spite of himself, he found he was continually 
 imagining what she would say and think, if she 
 was beside him. Thus, with regard to the large but 
 hugely ugly church in the market-place, St. Nicholas, 
 he wondered whether she would agree with him 
 that not even an unlimited expenditure could make 
 it look at all passably pretty ; and yet the situation 
 would deserve an embellished structure : would not 
 the best thing be to build up an entirely new ex- 
 terior, with a row of Gothic arches, or even Grecian 
 columns, anything in fact outside, to hide the pre- 
 sent deformity of a front ? In this manner, Cyril 
 still seemed to see Jessie in everything. He ob- 
 served how the good wide street, Neuve Chauss^e, 
 grows more and more ample, towards the sea ; yet, 
 before it reaches the Port, it ends in a lot of little 
 lanes : would not Jessie think the street ought to 
 sweep round, short, and wide, and spacious, to the 
 quay ? This is an " improvement " which cries
 
 1 64 Jessie of Boulog7ie. 
 
 aloud for accomplishment. He thought also how 
 he could make her smile at the long wine-carts 
 which go about the town ; all the French carts 
 indeed seem to aim at length, more than anything 
 else, as if still following the design of those primi- 
 tive drays which were made to thread the narrow 
 roads and forest tracks of ancient GauL But the 
 wine-carts are the oddest, and narrowest, and long- 
 est ; they give me the idea of a wheelbarrow gone 
 to seed: the thing is a truck, twice as long as an 
 English cart, and yet only wide enough to hold six 
 bottles in a row : a bin on wheels. The plan is good 
 and sensible, so far as obviating collisions; but, how 
 about turning the sharp corners of streets ? the long 
 thin tray looks as if it might crack in two on the 
 acute angle of a street, and then, what a spill would 
 there be ! Mxiiy of such French plans, though rough 
 and ready, Sre judicious, and might be copied by 
 our proud islanders. Thus the English seldom have 
 any plan to lock the wheel of a two- wheeled cart ; 
 but every French cart has a very effective and very 
 ancient arrangement, whereby a rude piece of wood 
 is made to press against the back of each wheel, in 
 precisely the same way as now the concave drags 
 are levered against railway wheels : and when great 
 weights are carried down hills, the French driver 
 sits on an outrigger behind, which compresses the 
 wheel with great leverage. You usually see the 
 Frenchman holding the handle of this drag, and 
 straining it more or less, as wanted, in fact steering 
 his long Charles's Wain by the tail, down hill.
 
 Gone Astray, 165 
 
 ^' Yes," said Cyril, " Jessie would agree with me 
 that if the French are fifty years in advance of us 
 in some little items of civilization, we are four hun^ 
 dred years ahead of them in the matter of religion." 
 
 Fancy your being told that in Boulogne, in the 
 Jesuit church of St. Joseph, there is a sweetly 
 inteiesting object ; and, it is — a representation of the 
 " Virgin Mary in a boat, surrounded with waves and 
 silver fishes, holding in her hand a golden heart and 
 an image of the infant Jesus." Think of the Virgin, 
 and silver fishes I I imagine it must have been 
 from this absurd connexion, that in Boulogne the 
 adjuration of gamblers, for good luck, when throw- 
 ing dice, is, " ye gods and little fishes." The 
 « Virgin " here introduced is not the real Virgin of 
 the Gospel, nor is the " Jesus " the real Jesus of the 
 Scriptures ; the names may sound Christian, but all 
 the ideas connected with them are simply pagan to 
 the last degree : the waves and the silver fishes (so 
 childish), and the golden heart (so nasty), and the 
 " image," are all only worthy of heathen Rome or 
 heathen Ephesus. Indeed, the great idol of Boulogne 
 was, the Virgin Mary in a boat (the real Virgin 
 probably never was in a boat). The " pious " legend 
 is, that in the year A.D. 632 a boat came to Bou- 
 logne, without oars, or sails, or sailors ; and when the 
 people rushed to it, they found in the boat a 
 *' wooden image of the Virgin, quite black, three feet 
 and a half in height, bearing the infant Jesus on her 
 left arm." I should say this was merely a pagan 
 idol, of Friga or Venus, and Cupid ; and some Chris-
 
 1 66 yessie of Boulogne, 
 
 tianized Saxons in Britain had been persuaded to 
 get rid of it, by turning it adrift in a boat. It was 
 the very era of the conversion of the Saxons ; and 
 the Saxons did worship just such hideous logs. 
 They would not burn it, but they would boat it off ; 
 and the tide brought it to Boulogne. There may 
 well have been an image of a heathen goddess in a 
 chui'ch at Boulogne, when there was one at Paris, as 
 is stated in the " Dictionnaire Historique Portatif," 
 by Ladvocat, Paris, 1760, vol. i. p. 805, where it is 
 shown that as regards the goddess Isis or Cybele, at 
 Paris, "sa statue fut conservee dans un coin de 
 r(^glise de S. Germain des Prez, jusqu'en 1514, que 
 le cardinal Bri^onet, qui etoit abbe de ce monastere, 
 la fit mettre en pieces ai'ant su que quelques femmes, 
 par simplicite, lui avoient presents des cierges." 
 The very same simplicity prevailed at Boulogne- 
 Tes, like as the actual Egyptian idol Isis was an 
 object of worship in 1514 among the Christians (?) 
 of Paris, or Par-Isis, so also was the refuse Saxon 
 idol Friga adored in 632 by the Christians (?) of 
 Boulogne. The same Egyptian Isis element peeps 
 out in ghastly guise in the grand French custom of 
 " exposing " or exhibiting a corpse ; as when a dead 
 bride is propped up, at the end of a saloon or in a 
 shop window, all dressed out in her marriage attire, 
 with her dead face peering through orange blossoms: 
 it is all a mere mummy ceremony, all Isis, Par-Isis, 
 Parisian, that is, sheer Egyptian heathenism. The 
 dead face is the French ghost of a mummy I And 
 as regards the '' quite black " image of Boulogne, we
 
 Gone Astray. 167 
 
 may remember that the '* Virgin " of Loretto is of 
 wood ; it also is black, and represents a negress, pro- 
 bably the Queen of Sheba : and the child doubtless 
 was not meant for the Bambino, but for Menelek, 
 the queen's " illegitimate son by Solomon." Yes, the 
 old idol, rejected by England, became the " miracu- 
 lous image" of Boulogne, and was prayed to, for 
 centuries ; till among the few good things which the 
 French Revolution produced, seventy years ago> 
 there was this one, that the " quite black " image, as 
 well as all the other Boulogne images, were made 
 into " a grand bonfire, in the Place d'Armes." 
 
 And yet Cyril had no sooner settled what Jessie 
 would say on such subjects, than he took himself to 
 task for harping on the beautiful girl who was never 
 to be his. And then he would, as if convulsively, 
 strive to engross himself with some topic utterly 
 foreign both to her and to himself Thus will the 
 agonized spirit try to banish distressing thoughts 
 by giving attention spasmodically to some subject, 
 the last and unlikeliest to be reviewed at such a time. 
 This property of the mind is very curious, whereby 
 a man can be conscious that a crushing calamity 
 has occurred, and yet he will not think of it, but 
 forces himself to avoid the thought, and devotes 
 himself to other considerations. The philosophy of 
 such an effort may possibly have been that which 
 gave rise to the German tale, of a man who had a 
 skeleton always looking over his shoulder, and yet 
 the hapless wretch tried to move about with uncon 
 cern, as if there was no such horror always besetting
 
 1 68 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 him. -Thus did Cyril plunge off to any question ; 
 indeed, in such a case, anything will do, to keep the 
 mind from gnawing at itself. 
 
 The subject he got upon was, how ungrateful 
 most of the English residents of Boulogne are said 
 to be towards the French government and the 
 Emperor, under whom they enjoy every immunity 
 they could wish, with cheap wine, and other econo- 
 mical treats into the bargain. The English visitors 
 get house rent cheap ; compare the 2000 francs or 
 £80 for a good French house, with the £180 or 200 
 guineas of an inferior one in such a place as Por- 
 chester Terrace. The English also get much better 
 bread than is made in London. In fact, the London 
 puffy quartern loaves, all sponge and crust, are less 
 toothsome than any foreign bread, and are not to 
 be mentioned in the same day with French bread. 
 The English denizens also pay little or no taxes ; 
 and yet their staple topic is, abuse of the Emperor. 
 This is really both ungrateful and indecent. As to 
 the Emperor, Napoleon the Third, he is, in absolute 
 fact, the best ruler France has ever had. He is the 
 nephew of his " Uncle " ; and if the French nation 
 likes the Napoleon dynasty, that is no concern of 
 the English. " Considering " that France had abo- 
 lished the other dy-nasties, and was heartily sick of 
 a republic, Louis Napoleon had full right to the 
 throne. He was also quite justified in the mode 
 wherein he obtained power, all his acts being 
 honest. He offered himself fairly as President of 
 the humbug Lamartine's republic; he was chosen
 
 Go7ie Astray. 169 
 
 President : but then all the Cavaignacs, and Lamor- 
 icieres, and Changarniers were plotting viciously 
 against him, through mere despicable jealousy. It 
 was the alternative ; either they must go down, or 
 he must : he had power in his hands, properly : it 
 had been duly delegated to him : so, he used that 
 power, and he carted all those " republican " 
 generals off to prison : and, serve them right ! it is 
 precisely what I should have done were I in his 
 place. What right had those pinchbeck generals to 
 govern France ? None whatever. They deserved 
 the kicks they got. France hates and despises the 
 Lamartine lads, even when they wriggle themselves 
 to the front ; and hence France was quite content 
 to see Lamartine subside into so small a Bridge 
 Belisarius as a mere grubby lecturer. The Times 
 newspaper always howls against the Emperor, on 
 the score of perfidy and perjury, as if he broke his 
 pledges, falsified his oath, and so on. But the 
 breaking of pledges was the act alone of those sel- 
 fish democratic chiefs who were villanously and 
 traitorously false to him as the Chief of the State. 
 Louis Napoleon was liberated from republican 
 trammels through the faithlessness which was 
 wreaked on himself. He was thus right to submit 
 the question of Republic or Empire to the French ; 
 and they by millions chose him Emperor. Any 
 high hand which he resorted to, was what the cir- 
 cumstances justly and righteously required, and was 
 strictly in self-defence. I think there is no case in 
 history of a parvenu prince who came to the throne
 
 lyo Jessie of Boulog7ie. 
 
 so equitably as he has. And his rule has been both 
 a clever and a beneficial one. Of course, his weak 
 point has been Rome ; but that is not his fault : it 
 is the fault of the Mystery of Iniquity itself, since 
 Popery is the bane of anyone who has anything to 
 do with it. A good and rightful Ruler is the 
 Emperor Napoleon. Yet the English, who enjoy 
 every freedom under his sceptre, are always reviling 
 him. One little broken-backed parson is said to be 
 always telling stories, probably all false, up and 
 down in Boulogne, about the private life of the 
 Emperor, which, if reported, would ensure him the 
 legacy of a speedy and deserved expulsion from the 
 shores of La belle France. The English have no 
 reason to be bitter against the Emperor. He has 
 been more friendly to England than any French 
 ruler ever was before. He announced that his 
 policy was summed up in the English alliance ; and 
 he has inflexibly adhered to it : though the English 
 nation acted very scurvily towards him in the 
 matter of the Orsini plot, and the Bernard trial. It 
 was said that if England had then " given way ", 
 we should have forfeited our island's right to be the 
 asylum of political fugitives. But England was 
 never intended to be " openly " the asylum of 
 regicides and dastardly bomb-assassinators. It 
 would have been a truly magnanimous act for 
 England to have sent all the murderous abettors of 
 Orsini in chains, as a present to Napoleon, per 
 Boulogne, that such Thugs might no longer pollute 
 the soil of Britain. Badly as Napoleon has been
 
 Gone Astray, 171 
 
 treated by England, he being always suspected of 
 an invasion mania, and being uniformly assailed in 
 the English newspapers, and continuously vitu- 
 perated in the English Parliament, still he remains 
 loyal and true to his principle, amity with Eng- 
 land, and posterity will do him justice for his 
 fidelity. Hence it is with sheer and unmitigated 
 disgust that anyone who knows the real facts of 
 the case may hear the paltry little sneers and in- 
 vectives, in which, with craven nods and winks and 
 second-hand shrugs, the ingrate refugees of Boulogne 
 indulge, against the enlightened Emperor of the 
 land that shields them. Probably the French feel 
 only contempt for the English bad manners. This 
 seems alone to account for the fact that the local 
 print, the Boulogne Gazette, regularly exhibits a 
 stereotyped table of advice " To Englishmen settling 
 in Boulogne," which not only makes the silly state- 
 ment that " servants are a nuisance everj^where, but 
 nowhere like what they are in Boulogne ; " it also 
 parades the following precept : " Run no heavy bills 
 with tradesmen : any man to whom you owe above 
 one hundred and fifty francs, may imprison you in 
 five minutes, if not paid when he demands his 
 claim : we have known some arrested, upon whom 
 no demand had even been made." This is thus a 
 standing libel on the fair-dealing of the citizens, 
 and it would seem to be accepted by them as such, 
 and as quite true ; else we could imagine the Mayor 
 or Sub- Prefect or other guardian of the local honor, 
 giving a " warning " to the English newspaper that
 
 172 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 it must either withdraw the insult or be suppressed: 
 but, what explains all, is, that probably the whole 
 thing is laughed at. Doubtless also there is a quiet 
 laugh at the catering for this vitiated English taste, 
 when the local "Guide," though written by a French- 
 man, M. Brunet, gravely discourses as follows : " We 
 must not omit to intimate to strangers, that there 
 is a great deal of bargaining in the manner of 
 selling, especially on the part of the country people 
 and fishwomen^ who generally demand more than 
 they will take ; and we therefore caution those who 
 are unacquainted with this system of dealing, never 
 to give the first price that is asked." The sim- 
 plicity of this is enchanting. What extraordinary 
 greenhorns its readers are supposed to be ! As if 
 just the same chaffering and bargaining was not as 
 prevalent in the dirty markets of Weymouth or 
 Scarborough as among the clean white caps of the 
 market-women of Boulogne. The Briton who 
 wants to be cautioned about haggling and beating 
 down prices, cannot have as yet cut his wise teeth. 
 There is one thing which may be foretold about 
 the Eno^lish settlers, who insult the French and 
 abuse the Emperor ; they will not have sense and 
 forethought enough to get up a Norman Anniver- 
 sary for 1866, at Boulogne. This might neatly feed 
 French pride ; along with the hint that the Emperor 
 had better not try the like now. Of late, anniver- 
 saries have been much in vogue ; men regard them 
 as the birthdays of bright events, and they observe 
 them on the " wish you many happy returns "
 
 Gone Astray, ij^ 
 
 principle. Boulogne might have her anniversary ; 
 and I might make a little money by it. Collections 
 and Jubilee incomings are the order of the day. 
 The Bible Society had its 50 years Jubilee, and 
 extra " funds." The Wesleyans had their centen- 
 ary, and of course the "fund." The Propagation 
 Society and the Christian Knowledge Society com- 
 memorated their 150 years with "appeals." The 
 Dissenters " inaugurated " their 200 years with 
 " Bicentenary " contributions. I do not know of 
 250 years ; but 300 would give Shakespeare a 
 Tercentenary. Perhaps in 1883 (Nov. 10) Luther 
 will have a QuartocentensiYy, or 400 years from his 
 birthday. Now, the Boulogne grumblers, if they 
 could only look beyond their mildewed noses, n&ed 
 not draw it mild, but might " go in " at once for no 
 less than 800 years, an Octocentenary, of which 
 Boulogne might be the focus, and which ought in 
 all fairness to bring grist to my mill. It ought to 
 be easy for every patriotic Boulogne-ite to rally 
 round the " idea." Unless I am utterly abroad in 
 my " History," the battle of Hastings was won by 
 William the Norman in the year 1066. The day 
 was October 14 ; Old Style, no doubt : so I would 
 pick out Thursday, October, 25, 1866, as the 800th 
 Norman Anniversary. Let the sullen sons of " per- 
 fidious Albion " flock to Boulogne on that day, 
 and have a dance on the sands. And let gentlemen 
 and ladies, as well as everybody else, send money, 
 in cheques and banknotes and post-ojffice orders, to 
 the author of " Jessie of Boulogne," care of my
 
 174 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 publisher (see title-page). But they will be too 
 stupid either to do this, or even to foresee the 
 occasion. 
 
 Alas, it would not do. Of course you understand 
 that all this while Cyril was roving through every 
 street, and every place of resort, in hopes to meet 
 with Jessie ; he was vainly trying to avoid thinking 
 of her, while all the time he was seeking for her. 
 However, she was not to be seen. Cyril would 
 have gone off, and left the place, in blank dismay, 
 only for George's letter, which said so indefinitely 
 he was coming, without stating how or when. Only 
 for this friendly tether, Cyril would probably have 
 gone over to his estate in Sussex ; although indeed he 
 had already made all his final arrangements there, 
 before his projected tour, nor did he much want to 
 seem to unsettle his own dispositions of men and 
 things. Stay he must, and wait; but in what a 
 miserable plight ! with now no hope of a place in 
 Jessie's heart : nor could any subject seem more 
 important to him than her love. 
 
 Those who omit the consideration of love, pass 
 over the actual mainspring of human events. Love 
 is the golden thread of History. Too often its sub- 
 ject has been a Helen or a Cleopatra; but sometimes 
 it has been of a purer grade. Love rules in a 
 monarchy more than in a democracy; and this is 
 one among the endless arguments which show how 
 unnatural a thing Democracy is. As for republics, 
 there never was a good one, nor can we see a repub- 
 lic in the Theocracy of the Jews ; there, the Deity
 
 Gone Astray, 175 
 
 presided : nor shall we ever see a good republic. 
 The worst republic the world has ever witnessed is 
 the Yankee one, which is suitably exemplified by 
 the scene of the braggart North invading the 
 gallant South, to enforce an union founded on 
 consent ! In this we may see the loveless nature of 
 a republic. But, if love is banished from the politics 
 of democracies, still love sways more or less each indi- 
 vidual of each faction, in his personal capacity. 
 Love is the master spring of good men, and of honest 
 empires. Those who pass the topic by, are, we 
 insist, untrue to the real course of human history. 
 
 It may serve to show how dominant is the 
 force of love, when we see, in Cyril's case, how 
 impracticable it would be for him to devote fixed 
 attention to any other question. Fancy Cyril, 
 with his heart racked and his brain anguished at 
 the thought of losing Jessie, having to sit down 
 composedly, to go through calculations' for a new 
 planet, founded on perturbations in the exterior 
 satellite of Neptune. Imagine him even going 
 through a quiet sheet or two, of algebra, or conic 
 sections. Hence indeed when I see gazetted the 
 names of First-Class men, or Senior Wranglers, I 
 always say. Those lads are not in love. Perhaps 
 some young man, not in the list at all, or possibly 
 plucked, would have distanced all others, only for 
 some teazing Lucy or coquettish Harriett or inexo- 
 rable Agnes, whose cruelty leaves him no power to 
 think. Love plucks more young men than the most 
 savage dons.
 
 176 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 Like as for little boys, in the Latin Grammar, the 
 highly moral writer Ovid laments, that Love cannot 
 be medicated or cured by any herbs or simples ; so 
 also Cyril could not much divert his thoughts, by 
 any theme, except Natural History, though it might 
 look useless for him to try to study the peculiarities 
 of others, of man, or beast, or bird, when his own were 
 so distressing. The most eccentric " animal " that 
 could here at all succeed, would be the odd bird called 
 the Cuckoo, whose history " has yet to be written." 
 
 I could almost conceive a forlorn lover getting 
 amused with so queer a creature as the cuckoo. A 
 riddle in all its ways is that merry rake in feathers, 
 which comes and goes like a parenthesis, or like 
 Spring trundling her hoop. A cuckoo flies like a 
 hawk, and boasts a bill like a thrush, and has 
 beautiful little feet neater than any pigeon's ; it 
 feeds on hairy caterpillars and dragon-flies : and it 
 seems to be both loved and hated by all the little 
 birds with whom it makes free, either sucking their 
 eggs, or laying its own very little ^gg among them, 
 whence I beg to affirm that the cuckoo is the original 
 of all squatters. To see the goings-on of two cuckoos 
 in a tree, in the " Happy Valley " near Boulogne, is 
 one of the strangest sights imaginable. One of the 
 cuckoo cries, besides the Columbiac " cuc-koo," is a 
 glugging gulp, which sounds like a ploughman 
 choking, (very similar to one of the voices of the 
 thrush) ; and another cry of the cuckoo is a perfect 
 human horse-laugh : the small white dove makes a 
 similar titter on a small scale.
 
 Gone Astray. 177 
 
 I remember seeing one cuckoo shot ; for in France 
 everything eatable is eaten, cuckoos, crows, squirrels, 
 robins, nightingales, wrens, frogs, and snails : every- 
 thing that can be eaten, is eaten, except magpies, 
 which alone are not eaten, because, for some in- 
 scrutable reason, they are reputed to be actually 
 birds of the devil. Hence magpies are not even 
 fired at, since nothing is shot except what is "good 
 for the pot " ; and even old rooks and seagulls (when 
 skinned), are considered very nice (?) in soup : like 
 as BufFon winds up a romantic account of robins by 
 adding that they are delicious when stewed with 
 bread crumbs, nasty fellow ! But, to return to the 
 murdered cuckoo, which was only kilt. This cuckoo 
 when fired at, was in a tree, and only had one wmg 
 broken ; it fell in a field, and ran about most grace- 
 fully. But no sooner had it reached the ground, 
 than a cock-robin, rufiling his red waistcoat, and 
 undeterred by the late report of the gun, flew at 
 the cuckoo, and actually lit on the cuckoo's head, 
 pecking at it with his bill, and thrashing the cuckoo 
 with his wings. I saw all this myself Soon after- 
 wards the robin got on the cuckoo's back, and pecked 
 it with perfect fury ; until the " sportsman " running 
 up to get his " game ", made the robin retire. It 
 looked as if the robin, seeing the cuckoo in diffi- 
 culties, resolved there and then to pay the rascal 
 out, for all the outrages on the little birds. 
 
 Could you, then, Cyril, sad lover as you are, give 
 a sickly smile at this ? Or, look here, my boy ; 
 observe how curious are the migrations of birds or 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 178 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 of fishes. Come and stoop and inspect the obscure 
 creature called the mud-crab ; it has protuberant 
 eyes, and no eyelids : so it removes all dust from 
 its eyes by rubbing them against a tuft of hair^ or 
 eye-broom of its own, which grows- close beside the 
 eye, just in the right place : which Sir C. Bell says 
 is " an action as intelligible as that of a man wiping 
 his spectacles." Again, if a goose goes to sleep with 
 its head behind its wing, it stands on one leg, and 
 raises up the other leg to counterpoise the recumbent 
 head ; the head being always on the opposite side to 
 the lifted foot : and thus the goose maintains the 
 centre of gravity. Gravity, indeed ! I say, that goose 
 is a wise bird, has good sense, and instinctively knows 
 more about the philosophy of nature, than many a 
 proud ignorant Man who perhaps has the audacity to 
 use the term " goose " as expressive of that stupidity 
 of which he is an unconscionable example himself 
 
 Nor do we lose the " poetry " of things, by noting 
 that when our studies are about Truth, they always 
 are utilitarian, or of practical service to mankind. 
 We have a hint to that effect from the Gymnotus, 
 of Surinam, an eel three feet long, which shoots its 
 prey ; it is a floating electrical machine, of great 
 power, and by that very means the scientific fish 
 obtains its food : and this is more than many scien- 
 tific empirics can say for themselves — that tliey get 
 their bread by their pursuits. 
 
 By way of a new thought, I therefore suggest to 
 all unhappy lovers, that in Natural History they 
 have perhaps the only study which can at all relieve 
 their lacerated hearts.
 
 French Bea. 179 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FRENCH BED. 
 
 " How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh lily ! 
 And whiter than the sheets ! That I might touch f 
 But kiss, one kiss ! Rubies unparagon'd, 
 How dearly they do't. 'Tis her breathing that 
 
 Perfumes the chamber thus ; the flame " 
 
 Shakespeare's "Cymbeline." 
 
 Feeling utterly lonely and disconsolate, the hour 
 of his meal, which he had fixed, recalled Cyril 
 mechanically home ; and then he bethought him of 
 the registered letter which had caused him so much 
 woe. The French are sometimes very particular 
 about such letters, and rightly so; in the present 
 case the man would not deliver it up to any person 
 save the one it was addressed to r so he would not 
 leave it, but brought it on his next round : and thus 
 at length it reached Cyril's hands. He could have 
 flung it from him, only that he recogniz3d the writ- 
 ing. It proved to be from the good and excellent 
 friends, who had acted as his guardians during his 
 minority, and whom he had commissioned to deal 
 as they thought right, with reference to his interests, 
 during his expected absence in the East. To none
 
 1 80 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 but them and George, had Cyril mentioned that he 
 was in Boulogne. 
 
 The letter enclosed some power of attorney for 
 Cyril to sign; and also it apprised him that an 
 ancient earldom was likely before long to devolve on 
 himself. Cyril knew that he was related to this 
 noble family ; but he never supposed that he should 
 come to the title, with which there were large 
 estates. He always understood that there were at 
 least four or five persons who stood between him 
 and the earldom, including youths, likely to live and 
 have families. This now was all altered. 
 
 The case it seems was, that the present possessor 
 of the title was a very old man, who had only two 
 sons. The younger was unmarried, and had fallen 
 into such reckless and vicious courses of "fast " life, 
 that he was now seized with delirium tremens, and 
 could never transmit the race, being in fact at 
 death's door. The earl's other and elder son was a 
 most exemplary and consistent man ; he had married 
 a lady good and pious like himself, but she had died 
 of consumption, about two years ago, and her hus- 
 band had now sunk under the same dire malady, he 
 having apparently caught it from her. They had 
 two children, fine handsome boys, one nine and the 
 other twelve years old. But the letter which Cyril 
 now received informed him not only that the father 
 had thus died of decline, but also that the two sons 
 had been carried off by scarlet fever, within a day 
 of each other, at some salubrious-looking rectory 
 where they v/ere being educated. Thus there was
 
 French Bed, 1 8 1 
 
 no one now between Cyril and the title, except the 
 old earl of Evelyn himself, whose years were nearer 
 ninety than eighty, and his utterly effete and worn- 
 out son, who, though only about thirty-two years 
 old, was practically older than his father. 
 
 Cyril was not at present in a mood to be much 
 pleased at anything ; and no part of this commu* 
 nication gave him any sense of pleasure. He 
 wrote a letter to his kind old guardians, thanking 
 them, and leaving all steps to them; and then, 
 after his pretence of a dinner, for which he had no 
 appetite, he weint out to get his signature to the 
 document attested, and to post it at once : for, Cyril's 
 motto of action was, Hoc Age, the Latin for Do 
 This, i.e., Mind your business, and attend to t^e 
 work before you. Hence he never allowed arrears 
 of small duties to run up against him, but he always 
 answered letters punctually, and never let anyone 
 wait for him, being as attentive to little proprieties 
 as was that incarnation of duty, the hero Duke of 
 Wellington. 
 
 As he sauntered to the old mian Post-office, he 
 could not help thinking that Jessie, had she been 
 any longer friendly enough to discuss such a subject 
 with him, would coincide with him in the opinion, 
 that the intelligence he had received might all 
 be characterized as painful tidings, and bad 
 news. 
 
 Cyril now looked upon himself as " booked " to 
 be an old bachelor, nor could he imaofine himself 
 ever marrying, or even able to eradicate his present
 
 1 82 ' Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 feeling of disappointment, now that he had been so 
 pointedly rejected and avoided by Jessie. 
 
 What use was there in the title coming to liim ? 
 As to the estates, whose rental was not immense, 
 but still amounted to fifteen thousand a year, he did 
 not want such an accession of income ; he had 
 already more wealth than he should know what to 
 do with. He thought the death of those two beau- 
 tiful boys was simply a most miserable and melan- 
 choty occurrence ; and the death of their good 
 father, who was a most generous philanthropist, 
 seemed sad in the extreme, and a loss to the age. 
 The fact also of the brother being so unlike him, 
 and fast perishing as the victim of every vice, was 
 deplorable and shocking. And then as regards the 
 fine old earl, whom Cyril had often seen and 
 admired, and from whom he had received several 
 civilities; the idea of looking forward with any 
 hope, to his death, would be the last to be embraced 
 by Cyril's well-ordered and honorable mind : he 
 thought of him only as a magnificent specimen of a 
 venerable nobleman, and Cyril's trust was that the 
 grand old peer might still be long left to adorn his 
 station. Thus in short Cyril cherished no pleasure 
 at the prospect of his being soon enrolled as a pro- 
 minent earl, in the most august assembly the earth 
 has ever seen, the House of Lords. Besides, Cyril 
 had accustomed himself to look forward to his 
 entering the House of Commons; whereas, if he 
 now became a peer, he should be debarred from this 
 expectation : and even if he must at last be en-
 
 French Bed. 183 
 
 nobled, he justly felt that the training of the 
 Commons' House would be very serviceable to 
 him. 
 
 All these things, going so contrary to his personal 
 wishes, tended to make him still more unhappy and 
 uncomfortable- 
 
 The strength of man's mind, and the potency of 
 his emotions when once aroused, may show that 
 there is no greater type of anguish, than when an 
 intelligent young man, who had hoped he might be 
 loved, finds that even the very thought of love 
 must be torn up as it were and wrenched out of his 
 very' heartstrings. There are doubtless those who 
 are ready to smile, or mock, at such a calamity ; 
 but, such persons are the hyaenas of humanly : 
 and anyone who has a feeling heart will acknow- 
 ledge that such a trial must be one of the most 
 agonizing to which human nature can be subjected. 
 I believe that in such pangs and throes of heart* 
 the seeds of premature death are more often sown 
 than may be supposed The female heart, from its 
 fineness and tenderness, may feel very acutely in 
 some such a case ; but the gentle willow bends to 
 the storm : the more stubborn oak is broken or 
 torn up : and thus the very strength of man makes 
 his suffering more terrible, when it bursts on him 
 with resistless force, leaving him a lovelorn wreck. 
 
 And if it be asked, Why should Cyril's feelings, 
 on losing Jessie, be so intense, when he had seen so 
 little of her, and knew so little about her ? we may 
 remind you, that he conceived he had seen enough
 
 1 84 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 to judge of her sufficiently ; a great deal was said 
 between them at the concert, more than we have 
 told : and Cyril felt convinced that Jessie was highly 
 intelligent and accomphshed, with every ladylike 
 grace, with just and sensible views on every subject 
 that had arisen, and with a due reverence for sacred 
 things. He felt assured she was both good and 
 intellectual; why then might he not admire her, 
 when she was so admirable ? she also evinced a 
 ^sympathy or fellow-feeling with himself, as if their 
 minds were cast in the same mould. Time might 
 of course develop more excellencies in her ; but he 
 had already seen enough to show him that she was 
 all his heart could wish,. 
 
 And then, her beauty ! he had literally never 
 before imagined that such loveliness was possible in 
 anyone of human kind. 
 
 And why should not such incomparable beauty 
 fully take its place as a justification of Cyril's deep 
 and entire devotion ? 
 
 There is often I think much hypocrisy in those 
 who affect to ignore the cogency of beauty's 
 claims. I believe beauty was given to produce the 
 very effect. That beauty should be admired, is 
 self-evident ; that loveliness should be loved is a 
 truism. Why should our Creator have put in man's 
 heart a susceptibility and readiness to appreciate 
 woman's charms, and why should a girl be invested 
 with such beauty as Jessie had so superlatively ; if 
 " Beauty " was not to be rightfully a dominant in- 
 gredient in love ? I maintain that the more a man
 
 French Bed. 185 
 
 is strong-minded and noble-hearted, the more is the 
 fact, that a girl is beautiful, enough alone to justify 
 him in loving her. It is very silly of some sordid 
 old hunks to retort, Is a man then to fall in love 
 with a "mere pretty face, though the girl is a fool ? 
 I reply, Most probably the girl is far less a fool than 
 you who ask the question. We all know that if a 
 man be caught with a girl's beauty, and she turns 
 out to be an idiot, he is very unfortunate ; and if 
 he loves beauty, and the beautiful one is immoral, 
 he is still more unlucky. But these i/s are not 
 necessarily connected with the question of loving 
 beauty for itself. My if is quite as valid, when 
 I say, What if the girl be both beautiful and good, 
 both lovely and discreet ? Even if a man of a 
 mighty mind is much struck with a girl's beauty, 
 and still loves her and marries her, after he has dis- 
 covered that she has a few little faults or drawbacks 
 and that she is in mental qualities not particularly 
 brilliant, but only endowed with commonplace 
 woman's wit ; he is not culpable or inconsistent : 
 there is nothing irrational in his continuinoj to value 
 beauty : beauty is, itself, a good reason for his love . 
 In these days, when generally the main enquiry 
 about a wife is. How much money has she got ? I 
 say devotion to beauty is a sign of a superior soul. 
 And here, matter of fact comes in, to prove that the 
 more clever and lofty-minded a man is, the more 
 apt is he to be captivated by beauty. This certainly 
 is what is constantly occurring among such men ; 
 the most intellectual are most the slaves of beauty^
 
 1 86 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 And therefore I contend I am right when I say, 
 Beauty ought to rank at the head of the claims to 
 love ; whatever some solemn simpletons may bleat 
 against it. 
 
 The remainder of the evening, Cyril often went 
 out, and came " home " again, but could get no rest 
 or alleviation. It was useless to pore over news- 
 papers or magazines ; what he read, he did not feel, 
 nor care about. He was no drinker ; he could not 
 drown his sorrows in the flowing bowl: one who 
 was capable of such beastliness, would not have had 
 Cyril's fine feelings : the sensualist is always selfish. 
 Cyril was no opium-smoker, nor smoker of any 
 kind ; thus, as to all the little suicides which are in 
 vogue in ''society," he abominated them all. In 
 Time and Patience must his remedy be found. 
 
 It was useless to think of going to his couch, in 
 order to wrap his troubles in the mantle of repose \ 
 it would be impossible for him to sleep. Cyril was 
 literally afraid of his bed ; unable to sleep, he should 
 find the whole night a misery, and ike> chimes of 
 darkness would he a toll of torture. 
 
 Hence he made the singular resolve that he would 
 go out and walk about the whole night, or at least 
 till he became so totally fatigued, that his very 
 weariness might, as it were, exact some slumber, and 
 compel oblivion. 
 
 Boulogne is generally very decent and quiet at 
 night; and when the usual music of the evening 
 ceases, all is very still, with but little of the hum of 
 a large town. Cyril went down towards the pier,
 
 French Bed, 187 
 
 where he had first seen Jessie. It was not likely 
 that he should now meet her ; but he may as well 
 think of her, since it is no use trying not to do so- 
 The air from the sea was much too reviving and 
 refreshing, to seem to be likely to predispose him to 
 repose. So he thought, " Yesterday I met Jessie 
 thrice, and every time with some pleasant and hope- 
 ful accompaniments ; but to-day I met her but once, 
 and then I did not even once hear her voice : not 
 once ! 
 
 "Yet, not to-day, but last night, the evil was 
 done. If I see a beauteous rose-bud, ready to gush 
 forth soon into full bloom ; and if I take it and 
 force it open, will not the spoiled and rumpled 
 leaves betray what mischief an impatient hand can 
 cause ? Like that disarray of the sweet leaves, was 
 Jessie's consternation when I forced my love so 
 rashly on her notice. I then marred my immature 
 rose-bud ; nor can anything restore the previous 
 jocund state. The outraged rose-bud necessarily 
 droops ; and thus Jessie avoids me. 
 
 " Yes," said Cyril, " the incidents which demon- 
 strate only too plainly what Jessie now thinks of 
 me, are, the deep alarm she manifested at my too 
 fond overture ; together with the fact that not only 
 did she not in the least return the pressure of my 
 hand, but also she was absolutely silent, and did 
 not utter even any of the world's farewells, or 
 ordinary nothings, such as good-evening or good- 
 night. She parted from me, tlien, without even one 
 word. And equally, this morning, she was alto-
 
 1 88 yessie of Boulogne. 
 
 gether silent, when I joined her on the bridge. 
 Such mute aversion is more fatal to my hopes than 
 the angriest repulse. If indeed she of course fol- 
 lowed me through the crowd awhile, that was the 
 mere necessity of the position. And then, what 
 more is wanting, to complete her sad indictment 
 against me, than that, as soon as she could, she took 
 occasion to hurry away, and turn her back on me, 
 without caring to see whether I should come, and 
 without the least word of greeting, or good-bye, for 
 ever or not. After making all allowance for a lady's 
 natural desire to get clear of a heated crowd ; still, 
 I should only delude myself, were I to try to see 
 anything but a most decisive waiving of me off, in 
 the fact of no trace being left for me, no link, no 
 message, no drawing up of the carriage at a distance, 
 no chance for me to have even a polite leave- 
 taking." 
 
 Cyril would have modified all this view, if he could 
 have known, that no sooner were the ladies moving 
 away in the carriage, than the aunt was fretting 
 herself at leaving her " gallant friend " in so curt a 
 manner ; and so she discussed in her own mind 
 whether she could not soon send back the fly-man 
 to communicate with him ? but then, she did not 
 know his name, nor would the man know him : 
 besides, it would look so odd, to send a lumbering 
 driver to look up a fine young man, six feet high ! 
 moreover she quite relied on the expectation that 
 they should surely meet again. 
 
 If she had thought of making use of the cocked
 
 French Bed. i8q 
 
 hat, she might have accomplished wonders ; but it 
 never occurred to her : the agency of gendarmes or 
 water-bailiffs or town police for purposes of courtesy 
 or civility, was what she never thought of 
 
 Having reviewed the circumstances silently, a 
 thought struck her, which made her say aloud to 
 Jessie, " I am sorry we did not think of sending 
 some message of thanks to our gallant friend, whom 
 perhaps we may now lose sight of,, and never meet 
 again ; and the best way, indeed the only way, to 
 communicate with him, would have been, (like what 
 he himself had done in returning the handkerchief), 
 to make use of the dog : I regret," she added, " I 
 did not think in time of giving the dog a card or 
 paper with a mention in pencil of our present a*d- 
 dress, which the dog would have taken to his master 
 in his mouth, and saved us from seeming so ungrate- 
 ful and rude." 
 
 Hearing this, Jessie turned pale, and exclaimed 
 with much emotion, " 0, what a pity we did not do 
 so!" 
 
 The other saw her concern, which made the bash- 
 ful blood suffuse Jessie's brow. The aunt looked at 
 her. She thought of the tears which Jessie had 
 just shed, and which she had imagined to be merely 
 nature's safety-valve after seeing the wounded man • 
 and so they may have been. But the aunt now 
 saw that Jessie's young heart felt attracted to the 
 handsome stranger ; and so she silently hoped, that 
 if they were not to meet again, Jessie might soon 
 get over it : or else, if they were fated again to see
 
 1 90 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 each other, she nov7 perceived that it was indis- 
 pensable there should be an explanation as to who 
 he was. She smiled when she thought, " It would 
 not do for one so highly born, and such an heiress 
 as Jessie, to get attached to some fascinating bag- 
 man, or swell-mobs-man, or linendraper's apprentice 
 on a tour." 
 
 While thus rehearsing such precautions, she felt, 
 Cyril did not look much like an impostor ; and his 
 own reference to his wish to obtain a proper intro- 
 duction, impressed her with the conviction that 
 Cyril knew he could prove he was no adventurer 
 or base plebeian clown. "Perhaps, all may end well," 
 she thought; "and possibly Jessie has come across 
 one, who may eventually show he is a truly desirable 
 acquaintance." 
 
 Jessie felt that some of the secret of her heart was 
 already discovered by the loved one who sat beside 
 her. Jessie was not much disturbed or annoyed 
 at this; still, Love by virtue of its preciousness is 
 intrinsically a secret thing: and therefore she did 
 not feel disposed to volunteer revelations, whence 
 also she did not mention her discovery of the names 
 " Floss : Cyril." The chief reason for her reticence 
 was, that she feared she could not speak about her 
 Cyril, without betraying some of the sweet secret 
 bliss, with which the thought of him must ever 
 make her heart tremble in tenderness. 
 
 This privacy of love might seem to show it is 
 selfish ; yet, how can that be selfish which is 
 essentially shared by another? There was cer-
 
 French Bed. 191 
 
 tainly nothing selfish in darling Jessie's love ; and 
 if it sought to be " darkling and in shadiest covert 
 hid," still this was only the proper veil of modesty. 
 So, even if we cannot (I think I can) quite explain 
 why boys and girls blush and look ashamed of their 
 love, nevertheless so far as purity and modesty are 
 thus shown, we must admit that all is right. The 
 tone af Jessie's feelings may be likened to the state 
 af the deer in whose side the arrow is infixed, and 
 who wishes for a place of shelter, in the deepest 
 thicket of the dale. 
 
 If Cyril could only have known this, when he 
 stood so disconsolate beside the sea ! 
 
 I may add that if Cyril had been more practised 
 in Cupid's wiles, he might have discerned that when 
 Jessie followed him through the crowd at the bridge^ 
 the very docility she evinced, might have told him 
 that he had some hold upon her heart. He bade 
 her reverentially, to follow him ; and she did so : 
 indeed, she would have gone anywhere he might 
 counsel, and would have done almost anything he 
 prescribed. This tendency towards obedience is a 
 very significant and very beautiful symptom of love 
 in an otherwise proud maiden ; it is as if the fitting 
 preliminary^ in advance of the vow "to love, cherish 
 and to obey," in the fulfilment of which must ever 
 consist the glory and happiness of every wife who 
 has no sympathy with all the fudge about "Woman's 
 Rights." 
 
 Also, only that, as Ovid's Penelope says, " Love 
 is a thing full of anxious fear," Cyril might have
 
 IQ2 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 descried, that the coarseness of the indignity to 
 which he fancied he had been subjected, in his 
 being left, without a word; might show of itself 
 that such could not have been intended, and that 
 there must be some other explanation, consistent 
 w^ith the noble and generous natures in question. 
 
 And from this I wish the reader, who of course is 
 on the look-out for any of my valuable apophthegms, 
 to deduce the moral, that many persons, especially 
 ardent young men, are continually worrying them- 
 selves about imaginary miseries, and are sometimes 
 actually constructing for themselves the identical 
 misfortunes from which they most wish to escape. 
 
 Probably Cyril would have met Jessie again, 
 some time in the afternoon, only that she was a 
 little knocked-up, and in want of rest ; and her 
 aunt loved her too much to leave her to herself, 
 during the day. Jessie's health and bloom were 
 very much considered; and indeed, when she left 
 the concert so early last night, it was simply owing 
 to her home regulation, that she was to be in bed 
 by ten o'clock. 
 
 To-night she had even retired to rest still earlier, 
 as some exhaustion remained after the excitement 
 and movement of the day; and she was tired 
 enough to be soon wrapt in deep sleep. 
 
 But I may say further, that before she lay down, 
 when /ler tender being bent beside her bed in prayer, 
 another and a new name was added to those remem- 
 bered in her evening orisons; for now among her 
 prayers was numbered this petition, that every
 
 French Bed, 193 
 
 blessing might rest on the head of " Cyril." And 
 I would ask, J'd it not worth while to gain a good 
 girl's love, in order that such a prayer should go up, 
 so potent and so pure, to the awful presence of the 
 Eternal ? 
 
 The night was mild, and perfectly calm; we 
 might almost say there was (which is unusual) no 
 murmur whatsoever from the sea. Cyril had con- 
 demned himself to such loneliness and such a vigil, 
 he would not even have Floss with him, but must 
 prance the night out, alone. 
 
 It was now between ten and eleven o'clock ; and 
 as the heaven above him was radiant with stars, he 
 selected one grand one, Arcturus, to gaze at, re- 
 minding himself of the expressive passage of Shake- 
 speare, " It were all one, That I should love a bright 
 particular star. And think to wed it." 
 
 While thus quietly musing, amid the serene even- 
 tide, he perceived that a slight breeze had suddenly 
 arisen from the sea; and simultaneously, on the 
 other side, he thought he heard more hum or noise 
 from the town, than he had noticed before. By a 
 natural transition from his previous listless mood, 
 he briskly turned his steps towards the sound ; and 
 the unbidden pathetic thought, which Wordsworth 
 has well embalmed in the sudden qualm, " What if 
 Lucy should be dead ? " occurred to him, and made 
 him quicken his pace. 
 
 He also thought he heard a drum beat, which he 
 fancied he had been told was a sort of minor tocsin, 
 to announce fire. It seems, although the theatre 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 1 94 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 was burnt in 1854, fires are very unusual in Bou- 
 logne. However, here was one, at least beginning ; 
 as he found, when directed to the spot, by some 
 flame, and the noise of the assembling crowd. 
 
 Cyril did not observe any engines at work ; per- 
 haps they had not yet arrived, or water was not 
 yet available. The house which was burning, ap- 
 peared to be a sort of hotel, of a handsome style ; 
 and he ascertained that the stairs and passages 
 were on fire, endangering the life of any persons 
 who might be asleep in the upper part of the edi- 
 fice. Cyril pushed through the people to the front, 
 where several arms were at the moment lifting up a 
 ladder, which however seemed of insufiicient length. 
 
 Cyril's heart thrilled, when he heard what seemed 
 to be the voice of some ofiicial, proclaiming, " There 
 is one person asleep in the third story," and the 
 French phrase intimated that it was a female. Thus 
 there was only one life (as it seemed to be known) 
 in danger ; but, what if that one was Jessie ? 
 
 And the next instant his blood ran cold with 
 horror, at what seemed to tell him it must be so, 
 when, as soon as the crazy ladder was set up, a 
 man sprang on it, and began ascending, whom Cyril 
 immediately recognized as the manservant who had 
 presented himself when the ladies retired from the 
 concert. The man, though only a servant, was 
 faithful and noble-hearted, and willing to risk his 
 life through ten-thousand flames for his young mis- 
 tress. But he had not ascended far, before the un- 
 suitable ladder broke under his weight, and he fell
 
 French Bed. 195 
 
 heavily to the ground ; yet, from the way in which 
 he tried to gather himself up, it may be hoped that 
 the worthy fellow had no bones broken, though he 
 must have been badly bruised. 
 
 The cry was, for another ladder, and at once 
 another was forthcoming, longer, and more substan- 
 tial ; and many kindly French arras were elevating 
 it. Cyril seized one of the rounds of the ladder, in 
 fear lest some one should anticipate him in ascend- 
 ing. Cyril was the more eager and earnest and. 
 anxious to secure the ascent to himself, because he 
 now heard the quick clattering tramp, and the shrill 
 clang of the trumpets, of a large body of soldiers 
 who were coming from the citadel or from the bar- 
 racks at a rapid run. The French soldiers may fee 
 ugly in dress, but they are bold and brave little 
 fellows, very useful at a fire (of any kind). Cyril 
 thought. Might not the military people interfere 
 with his devoting himself to the work ? Although 
 indeed the French authorities, very rightly, are un- 
 ceremonious enough in impressing gentlemen and 
 ladies and all, in cases of fire, to lend a hand and 
 pass the buckets ; if a gentleman refuses, he is put 
 into prison till the fire is over (a fact) : the plan is 
 as neat as the buckets, which are tubs surrounded 
 with basketwork : one set of men lug the fire-engine, 
 and another set of men drag, as Teddy would say, 
 an empty waggon, full of buckets. 
 
 Cyril felt he must be quick, or probably he should 
 not be allowed to proceed. As yet he had forgotten 
 all about the aunt, and with a very intelligible pre-
 
 196 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 occupation of mind, he thought of Jessie alone ; 
 though, of course, so far, the aunt, instead of Jessie, 
 might be the " one " in the burning room upstairs. 
 But now, as he was about to step on the ladder, he 
 perceived that the aunt stood beside him; and 
 indeed he might have recognized her before, only 
 that she had round her head some improvised muff- 
 ling which she had suddenly assumed amid the 
 emergency, and which made her not so easily 
 identified. 
 
 When she saw Cyril, she clasped her hands, with 
 a gesture which might either express that she was 
 appalled at Jessie's peril, or else that she was 
 amazed at Cyril's being present, to render succor ; 
 possibly, it implied thankfulness, with an augury of 
 success. The noise and tumult were too great for 
 any conversation ; yet, ere Cyril mounted the ladder, 
 he had the presence of mind to shout to her, enquir- 
 ing, "What number? " meaning, which is the num- 
 ber of Jessie's room : to which, with quick appre- 
 hension, she gave him the distinctly- uttered reply, 
 " Number seventeen." 
 
 Cyril ascended ; the ladder bore him bravely : and 
 though it was not long enough, still it enabled him 
 to get on the sill of the window towards which his 
 efforts seemed best to be directed. A cheer from 
 the populace greeted him as he reached it ; but he 
 scarcely heard it, so intensely was his mind strung 
 to the work before him. The question now instan- 
 taneously resolved and decided, was, how should 
 he get through this first window ? Of course,
 
 French Bed, 197 
 
 he could dash the v/hole thing in; but, Cyril, 
 though warm-hearted and rather impulsive, was 
 cool-minded and thoughtful: hence he had great 
 presence of mind, empowering him to count the 
 cost of each movement. The French windows, or 
 croisees, as they call them, do not open up and down 
 with sashes as the English ones do ; but, by taking 
 hold of a handle, inside, at the middle of the case- 
 ment, and turning the handle down as a lever, you 
 release a bolt, and a catch, one at the top and the 
 other at the bottom of the framework, so that the 
 whole window opens inward to the room on hinges, 
 like folding doors, leaving the complete aperture 
 expanded, for passage, or view, or air. The plan 
 suits the climate; and when well fitted (which is 
 not often the case) is superior to the English awk- 
 ward sashes. The advantage of the French contri- 
 vance is, that from the inside of a room you can by 
 one pull throw open the entire space of the window ; 
 though it must be confessed that the window some- 
 times works open of itself in high winds. It will 
 be seen that there is no mode of opening the window 
 from the outside ; and with this fact, Cyril had to 
 deal. Cyril could break through much more sturdy 
 Gaza gates ; but he knew that to let in air on a fire 
 was like casting alcohol on it : few would have 
 thought of this, at such a time : however, he did. 
 So, in order to make the most moderate aperture, 
 the most convenient expedient was, tp break one of 
 the second row of panes, by his lifting up one foot; 
 with which he smartly knocked out less than half
 
 198 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 a pane. This enabled him to put in his arm and 
 seize the lever handle ; whereby he opened the 
 whole window, and then he quickly jumped into the 
 room. And at once he closed the window again; 
 and he even plugged the broken pane with some 
 tablecloth, to keep back the indraught of air. 
 
 He looked about him, and at once discerned that 
 it was a large bedroom; but it was evidently 
 unoccupied. There seemed to be two doors to it ; 
 one, which was further from his window, he could 
 hardly distinguish : probably it was the usual mode 
 of entrance. For, the other door was just opposite 
 the window, but had no handle. It was closed by a 
 lock. The door would seem to have been a change- 
 ling one ; it looked as if it had been made to open 
 the other side, but some malformation prevented 
 this, and so it was clapped on, the wrong way : and 
 thus the door had been used as a mere stop-gap, for 
 the second entrance, and was all a turned round 
 affair, with no handle, and with only a lock. Most 
 fortunately, Cyril found the key was in the lock, 
 and was on his side ! Had it not been there, he 
 might have had great difficulty in getting further, 
 as the door was stout, and he must have endeavored 
 to have kicked off the lock, or else to have burst 
 out the door by rushing against it like a battering- 
 ram, which might have failed, as the door was hung 
 to swing the other way, into the room . It was also 
 fortunate, that the door was closed ; else the confla- 
 gration would have been more drawn to that part. 
 There was not much smoke in the room ; it was
 
 French Bed, 199 
 
 chiefly the stifling and sickening smell of pine- wood 
 roasting. Still he could hear the awful voice of the 
 fire ; but the most important thing he saw (he noted 
 all in an instant) was, that the locked door 
 which faced him was numbered on the inside, and 
 the number (in large figures) was " 16." There was 
 abundant light, from the glare on the sky, to enable 
 him to read it. Wherefore, on one side or the 
 other, he now knew, Jessie's room was actually the 
 next to the one he was in. 
 
 He was at the changeling door ; and, turning the 
 key, he drew the door towards him, rapidly opening 
 it, while he looked keenly out : but he as rapidly 
 shut the door again. For, there was fearfully much 
 both of fire and smoke, in the passage. It was 
 plain that the door opened on one of those k)ng 
 avenues or corridors which Victor Hugo calls an 
 " intestinal tube," and which are so common in 
 large French houses ; with rooms ofi" the passage, on 
 each side, all along. He was surprised to find so 
 much fire in the passage, as there was so compara- 
 tively little trace of it in the room ; but doubtless 
 this was owing to the doors being close-fitting, and 
 bound with list or felt. Cyril, when he had looked 
 out, saw that there were fearful and ominous lonof 
 lambent tongues of flames stretching down the 
 passage. But even more formidable than the flames 
 was the dense smoke, which might soon suffocate 
 anyone. He remembered that the higher you 
 stand, the more you suffer from such smoke ; and 
 even when a place is otherwise impassable from
 
 200 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 stifling smoke, you can get along, if you go on 
 your hands and knees, with your face bent towards 
 the floor: since the air next the ground is the 
 last to be impregnated with the fatal fumes. So 
 he resolved to stoop, and thus work his way on. 
 It was to give himself a moment's thought, that he 
 had shut the door again. 
 
 And as the French custom is to mark the num- 
 bers of rooms in very large figures, he had easily 
 seen that the door immediately opposite him, was 
 the goal of his heart. No. 17. 
 
 In another instant, he .drew the door open again, 
 and passed out ; while with wonderful presence of 
 mind, he drew or slammed the door after him, to 
 close it tightly, so as to leave himself a way of 
 retreat, for her he loved. 
 
 He was in the passage, amid the fire and smoke, 
 which seemed to have already increased, and to 
 have drawn onwards toward him. The heat and 
 the choking eflluvium (mixed with some strange 
 smell) were terrific ; his hand was on Jessie's door, 
 the handle seemed fearfully hot : was her door 
 locked on the inside ? If so, may there be mercy 
 on them both ! for, die with her, he tvould. 
 
 He turned at the handle ; it did not yield : then 
 he tried whether it was one that lifted the hasp : 
 but no ! it was immovable. Cyril felt his strength 
 fast failing, and his eyes seemed burning ; then he 
 thought to try whether the handle would turn 
 round the reverse way : and so it did. Neverthe- 
 less, when he pressed and pushed against the door,
 
 French Bed. 201 
 
 it did not even now open. Whereon, as if with his 
 last and expiring consciousness, he bethought him- 
 self to try whether the door opened out towards 
 him into the passage ? and, he found that, for some 
 reason or other, or through some French make- 
 shift, it had been so made. 
 
 He drew the door open, and he tottered out of 
 the passage into Jessie's room, which seemed to 
 have wonderfully little smoke in it, except what 
 he brought in with him. Enfeebled as he was, his 
 forethought did not even now forsake him ; for at 
 once he closed the door to keep out the deadly 
 exhalations of the fire. 
 
 A wax-light was burning in the apartment, 
 which was a spacious and elegant one. 
 
 And, if exhaustion had for the moment crept aver 
 him before, he was now instantly reinvigorated and 
 endued with tenfold powers, by what he saw. For, 
 there, asleep in her little French bed, lay the gentle 
 maiden, Jessie, the most perfect of her sex. 
 
 u.
 
 202 Jessie of Boulogm 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ZONE. 
 
 " Who that hath ever been, 
 
 Could bear to be no more ? \ 
 
 Yet who would tread again the scene 
 
 He trod through life before ? 
 Oh, with intense desire, 
 
 Man's spirit will move on ; 
 It seems to die, yet, like heaven's fire, 
 It is not quench'd, but gone." 
 
 James Montgomery. 
 
 He was in her room; and the very thought itself 
 made his heart give its beat more quickly and more 
 wildly, than could be caused by any perils of fire or 
 water, pestilence or sword. 
 
 There was in the room another bed, a larger one, 
 but it was untenanted. Doubtless it had been 
 intended for the aunt, who would not have retired 
 to it, til] a still later hour. 
 
 As Cyril glanced hastily round the apartment, 
 nothing struck him more in reference to it, than 
 how empty it looked. He saw no boxes, no lug- 
 gage, no bonnets or cloaks or outer clothing lying 
 about. Doubtless all such things were in the suite 
 of sitting-rooms in the story below, and had probably
 
 Zone. 203 
 
 been got out safely. The whole gave the impres- 
 sion that the room had only just been moved into, 
 by the ladies, coming as if off a journey, or changing 
 from one house to another. We might conceive 
 that the aunt would have had some valuables or 
 baggage brought up here, when her hour of rest 
 should have come. To all appearance, the aunt had 
 been below, in the other rooms, sitting up for an 
 hour or two more, reading, or writing letters ; and 
 thus her desire not to disturb Jessie had separated 
 her from her, when the sudden fire burst out and 
 seized the stairs and passages, cutting off the means 
 of approach. 
 
 There were very strong iron bars across the Jhree 
 windows of Jessie's room; they were so massive, 
 they might have sufficed for an insane patient's 
 chamber of confinement : they had probably been 
 put up when once the room had merely been in- 
 tended as a nursery for some children. However, 
 thus, no use could be made of the windows, as 
 nothing short of crowbars could have broken a 
 passage. 
 
 In the middle of the room stood a tiny pillar-and- 
 claw table, over which a shawl was thrown, and on 
 which was a small pile of Jessie's folded clothes ; 
 while beside the clothes, on the table, lay her watch 
 and chain, her ring, and other trinkets, with a very 
 small velvet church-service, which doubtless she 
 had used to assist her last devotions. It would 
 seem as if Jessie had worn the thick shawl, wrap- 
 ping it round her shoulders, while she came up to
 
 204 Jessie of Botiiogne. 
 
 the bedroom, along the cold passages. Then, she 
 had apparently thrown the shawl, open like a 
 table-clotk, over the small table; and on this she 
 had laid all the articles of her attire, as she divested 
 herself of each, in a little pyramid, so tidily and 
 prettily, with her little shoes turned upside down 
 at the top of all. Cyril had not previously been 
 initiated into any of the arrangements which take 
 place "in my lady's chamber;" and so he could 
 have cried, to see this little mute heap of folded 
 raiment, which seemed to lift the veil for him to 
 look into some of Jessie's inner life, and which told 
 such a tale of the neatness, the order, the tender 
 purity of heart, and all the innocence, of her, who 
 had thus engaged herself to the very last moment, 
 ere she had laid down, on the bed, from which she 
 was only to awake amid a raging conflagration. 
 
 Quick as thought, Cyril tied the cross corners of 
 the shawl together, so as to make it easy for him 
 afterwards to slip his arm through, and carry all off 
 for her. 
 
 He had as yet been only one minute in her room, 
 and already the fire had evidently grown worse; 
 the heat was increasing, the noisome gaseous efilu- 
 ences were creeping in, and it would seem as if the 
 flame was suddenly pouring down the passage, 
 which now would be soon full of fire, and the floor 
 of which would probably be quite ignited : whence 
 the flames would rapidly spread in, to the rooms on 
 either side. 
 
 It was no time for waiting or hesitating; j^et
 
 Zone, 
 
 :o5 
 
 Cyril felt as if strangely willing to pause, under a 
 presentiment that it would be difficult to wake 
 Jessie, nor did he know how he was to accomplish 
 it. Often thus, men know that an " awkward " act 
 has to be done, which they are aware had much 
 better be begun at once ; and yet they loiter and 
 lean away from it, and try to stave off 6ven the 
 thought, whereby they only confuse themselves the 
 more, when the inexorable crisis for action arrives. 
 
 Cyril's irresolution has this good excuse, that, as 
 he was there to save her, the idea of doing so was 
 not new, and was therefore less startling or impera- 
 tive. Whereas, to find Jessie peacefully sleeping 
 wan new, and was hence more engrossing, and for 
 the moment was almost benumbing ; so that the res- 
 cue, for which he had come there, faded before the 
 sight of her, recumbent, and armed with all her 
 modesty and beauty. It seemed so cruel, so un- 
 manly, to break in on the privacy of her snowy 
 couch. How could he dare to touch her.? howbesrin 
 to handle her sacred form, even for her own most 
 obvious good ? He felt it was like wickedness to 
 lay hold of her. Here was this strong young man, 
 who might be thought able to lay hands on any- 
 thing, and who once had actually throttled a wolf 
 in the Pyrene6s ; he was also ready to take a lion 
 by its beard, or to grasp a rattlesnake, if neces- 
 sary : and yet, here was he, afraid, yes, literally 
 afraid, to lay hold of the sleeping girl. 
 
 Cyril's previous habits must here be taken into 
 account; his principle had always been (perhaps
 
 2o6 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 thanks to the memory of his sainted mother) to 
 entertain great and instinctive respect for every 
 female: he almost worshiped "Woman": nor had 
 he ever wronged one : he had not been one of those 
 whose vitiated tastes lead them to wallow in the 
 sewers of disreputable courses. Honor, inspired by 
 Religion, was his impulse; he could say with Shake- 
 speare's Malcolm, " I am yet unknown to woman ; 
 never was forsworn : Scarcely have coveted what was 
 mine own : At no time broke my faith "; or again ("As 
 you Like It ") " in my youth I never did apply Hot 
 and rebellious liquors to my blood, Nor did not with 
 unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and 
 debility." Hence it may better be understood how 
 it seemed to Cyril something so terrible, to grapple 
 with the unconscious maiden, even for her life, while 
 she lay sleeping, resting as it were so trustfully and 
 securely, without any of the defences of her day's 
 attire. 
 
 Perhaps also Jessie's wondrous beauty tended to 
 fill him the more with awe, since she bore well the 
 trying test of undress, and looked as lovely or even 
 more so, in dishabille, than when every art was 
 lavished on her decoration ; her complexion, her fea- 
 tures, all the realities of herself, were all in them- 
 selves so exquisite, so transcendent. 
 
 What can he do ? 
 
 He laid his hand on her head, where the rich 
 masses of her hair fell unconfined. As regards her 
 posture, she lay a little on one side, with her back 
 slightly turned towards him. Her sleep seemed to
 
 Zone, 207 
 
 be heavy, lethargic, unnaturally deep; this was 
 partly owing to the lassitude of the day, and to 
 these being her first slumbers, which are usually the 
 soundest. But, still more, her deep sleep might be 
 attributed to the narcotic influence of the fiery 
 emanations which reached the room ; for, it is often 
 observed that when persons are asleep in a burning 
 house, the effect of the smoke is doubly soporific, 
 causing comatose slumbers, dangerously deep, and 
 difiicult to break. 
 
 Thus then was it that he laid his hand on her 
 hair, 0, how gently ! 0, how reverently ! far too 
 softly to wake her. She did not even move. 
 
 It flashed across his mind, " She dislikes me already, 
 for interfering with herself, and making as it were 
 a rough inroad on her own emotions. What then 
 will be her eventual distaste towards me, when she 
 finds me even venturing to meddle with her person ? 
 Alas, how shall I be loathed, as something abhorrent, 
 by her heart ! I have heard that if you save a 
 friend from drowning, he conceives a dislike towards 
 you, because you have become associated with op- 
 pressive reminiscences. What then will Jessie, being 
 now no friend of mine, feel towards me, afterwards, 
 even if I save her ? Notwithstanding, let what is 
 right, be done by me ; and then, after I have done 
 all for her, if she still dislikes me worse, and if I 
 am only the more hated, I can go far ofi", and try 
 to hide my anguish in my heart." 
 
 He asked himself, "Shall I take up the whole 
 bedding, with her in it, sheets and all ? But this
 
 2o8 yessie of Boulogfie. 
 
 would scare her, worse than anything ; she would 
 fall out and be hurt : she would be smothered, or 
 driven insane : she would struofffle : she would be 
 scorched : the sheets would catch fire, her hair 
 would be burned amid the searching flame : nor 
 could I thus bring her down to safety below." 
 
 Utterty at a loss, he followed nature's impulse, 
 and bent down and kissed her cheek ; (the first time 
 he had ever touched any girl's cheek.) He did it, 
 as the gentlest and tenderest mode he could think 
 of, to wake her. As to taking her, and shaking her 
 and rousing her rudely, it was out of the question ; 
 he could not do it. Hence, though he kissed her, it 
 was not like a '' kiss," as kisses count in the amorous 
 idylls of Theocritus. His kiss was more a thing to 
 think of afterwards, than to enjoy at the moment. 
 The fact was, Cyril had been accustoming himself 
 so fully, during all the last hours, to think, to his 
 own discomfort, that she was worse than indifferent 
 to him, and that she even disliked him ; he now was 
 only too conscious that her charms were not for him, 
 and thus there was nothing sensuous in his homage. 
 
 Such were his chivalric sensations, when he bent 
 down, and warmly, fervently, thrice kissed her 
 downy cheek, saying, as loudly as he dared, 
 "Dearest Jessie, awake! " 
 
 To his entire consternation, she moved no more 
 than she had done before. 
 
 Something must be done, instantly, vigorously. 
 
 Hence Cyril then did, at last, without plan or 
 premeditation, what really was the best; that is to
 
 Zone, 209 
 
 say, he threw back the bedclothes, as far as about 
 the middle of her arm : and then making as it were 
 a dive or a dab or plunge with his hands, he got one 
 hand beneath her left shoulder, and the other hand 
 under her arm next him : and so he instantly drew her 
 right out, by main strength, yet carefully and gently, 
 and as easily as if she was a babe in long- clothes. 
 
 Thus he held her, to stand on her feet, her flowing 
 night-robes enveloping her perfectly. None of her- 
 self could have been revealed to him, except her 
 feet, which Cyril indeed did not even see ; and he 
 was thankful that there was, amid so hasty a re- 
 moval, nothing like the least exposure, or disturb- 
 ance of her array, which would only vex her^^or 
 wound her sensibilities : nor would anything gi-ieve 
 him more than to seem to invade the sanctity of 
 herself 
 
 Fortunately, Jessie, even when she was first set 
 to stand, was still a good deal bathed in drowsi- 
 ness ; and this happily served to save her from 
 such harrowing aflTright, as otherwise must have 
 overwhelmed her, or have even overthrown her 
 reason, on finding herself suddenly torn out of bed 
 by " a great man " in the deep night. But she had 
 just been dreaming about Cyril himself, to whom, 
 in some sorrowful little vision of her own, she 
 imagined herself to be bidding an eternal farewell. 
 So, when he carefully supported her, and told her, 
 in accents of designed unconcern, " There is a fire, 
 but be of good courage, I trust in Providence to 
 deliver you ; " she remembered his kind voice, she 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 210 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 recognized himself, and so she was resigned to the 
 strange contingency, and she was less astounded 
 than might have been supposed. Whatever fear 
 she felt, took no form of expression, except some 
 tremor^ and entire silence- This was rather a pecu- 
 liarity of Jessie's ; great emotion made her dumb : 
 she could easier have sung than have spoken. 
 
 There she was, for him, a pillar of purity and 
 beauty ; and, he might do for her what he could, 
 and whatever he thought best. 
 
 He drew off the blanket, whose thick woolly 
 substance would make a good asbestos envelope for 
 her, to face the flames ; and he wrapped the blanket 
 all round her form, high up under her arms, 
 leaving them free, and not covering her head, lest 
 the thick folds might stop her breathing. She stood 
 now by herself, without support ; and in order to 
 get the blanket well towards her shoulders, Cyril 
 had to lift some of her hair, which hung down ; 
 and as he touched it, he thought he never knew any- 
 thing so lovely. However, most quickly, yet most 
 carefully, he took care that all, except her head and 
 hair and arms, was eflfectively defended ; if only 
 her passage through the fire could be brief 
 
 Thus then, he took her up, with his left arm for 
 her zone ; and he asked her to place her arms round 
 his neck, for her own safety. Yes, truly, there 
 could be no gorget for him like her arm, no zone 
 for her like his. She silently did as he told her, 
 and placed her wealth of arms around his neck; 
 she also, of her own accord, laid down her head
 
 Zone. 211 
 
 lightly on his shoulder. He felt it ; but interpreted 
 it as some faintness, and did not know that it was 
 almost an ecstasy of love. Incomprehensible as it 
 might seem to some, Jessie felt quite happy ; and 
 she had no desire to exchange her perilous position, 
 for any other situation the world could offer. 
 
 Silent though she was, we can well believe her 
 heart was voiceful, doubtless eloquent with prayer, 
 beseeching a blessing on her preserver. You may 
 perhaps think she was too taciturn ; but it was 
 her nature : and perhaps her nature was as good 
 or better than either yours or mine. Some women 
 possibly would in such circumstances have con- 
 sidered it to be the correct card, to go into hysterics, 
 or to kick or scream ; some perhaps would cry, and 
 some would squeal : some would fondle, and some 
 would faint. But Jessie was simply silent ! And 
 sometimes this, like Cordelia's voice, being "soft. 
 gentle, and low," or Annie Laurie's voice, being 
 " low and sweet," is a gift which is " an excellent 
 thing in woman." For my part, I like Jessie the 
 better for it. She laid her head thus on Cyril's 
 shoulder, passively, silently, and reliantly. In fact, 
 now that I think of it, I see it was the very best 
 thing she could do, to trust that Heaven would 
 guard and guide both her and her strong de- 
 fender. 
 
 Jessie's hair ranked for a great deal, in Cyril's 
 thoughts, as if his heartstrings were entangled 
 in such precious tendrils. It seems, it was Jessie's 
 custom not to wear anything on her head at night,
 
 212 Jessie of Boulog7te. 
 
 but to pass a brown velvet ribbon under her back 
 hair, and behind her ears, and over her head, tying 
 the ribbon very loosely above one of her temples, 
 so as not to let her hair fall quite over her face. 
 So now her luxuriant locks hung down, not very 
 long, but passing a good way below her shoulders, 
 with grand exuberance ; and I may add that this 
 cascade of tresses made her (I know not why) 
 look even a couple of years younger: she might 
 have passed for a child of fifteen, only for her 
 goodly height, and only for a sort of witness of 
 womanhood which she somehow seemed to carry, 
 through even her shrouded contour. Such splendid 
 hair must then be saved, as well as herself ! So, as 
 it would not be possible for her, with her head un- 
 covered, to pass unscathed through perhaps a sheet 
 of flame ; Cyril drew off an under blanket, and as 
 he should not want to see his way, but merely to 
 push on, where the fiercest fire was : he threw the 
 blanket loose over both his own head and Jessie's, 
 to act as a fireman's " helmet " for them : while, 
 with the shawl-full of her things, on his right arm, 
 to keep off the flame still further, he might strive 
 to pass through the pair of direful doors. 
 
 Cyril now saw how well it was, that what he had 
 found a disadvantage before, namely that the door of 
 Jessie's room opened outwards, was now the case, 
 for him ; since it was now much in his favor, be- 
 cause, if it had opened inwards in the usual way, 
 then, as soon as he threw the door wide, the flames 
 would stream full and vollied in upon him, like the
 
 Zone, 2 1 3 
 
 volumes of a furnace, dealing sheer destruction 
 before he could dash through them. But now, not 
 only was the farther door ready to give way to his 
 onburst, but also Jessie's door, by opening out» 
 would operate as a fender or shutter, for the moment, 
 to keep back the blaze, and to break the current of 
 combustion. 
 
 He was now against Jessie's door ; and, pushing 
 up the blanket, and laying hold of the handle, he 
 turned it, but it was quite hot, and it scorched his 
 hand badly. However, the door was swung open ; 
 and the surge of fire was bearing down, the dreadful 
 sluice of flame ! thoug^h the throwinsr back the door 
 made it momentarily retire. And Cyril's advance 
 was at a rush, a rapid stride, to cross the narrow 
 landing. But, at his first step, the board he hap- 
 pened to tread on, gave way under his feet, not as 
 being burnt through where he stood on it, but be- 
 cause it was now loose. 
 
 Often indeed in French bedrooms and staircases 
 and passages, the woodwork is put together very 
 laxly and unevenly, as if the workmen had grudged 
 and stinted their wire-nails. I have known an in- 
 stance where several pieces of the flooring of a fine 
 showy French room were absolutely unfastened, and 
 you could take up whole lengths of planks, if you 
 wanted to see where the mice held their orgies. 
 In the present afiair, the piece in question, being 
 part of the boarding of the passage, and ending at 
 Jessie's door, had evidently not been nailed down 
 there ; and although this end of it was as yet not
 
 214 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 much on fire, the other end, some way up the fiery 
 aisle, had plainly become charred through, where, 
 if there had once probably been a nail, there was 
 nothing now to hold down the plank. 
 
 Accordingly, when Cyril's strong tread came on 
 it, the board sank or tilted, as far as the open door 
 would let it ; and, horrible to tell, the door which 
 he had been so glad to throw open, was thus in 
 danger of being shut back again on him, leaving 
 the cataract of fire to play on him and Ifier. He 
 was also in extreme peril of sliding into the jaws of 
 the narrow orifice between the beams, and getting 
 wedged or entangled among the chaos of scantlings 
 and loose boards; or breaking holes through, and 
 becoming fixed in, the tough plastering of the ceiling 
 below : where even a short detention would be 
 witheringly fatal. When his foot sank, if he had 
 fallen along, which might easily have been the 
 case, unable as he was to see, and encumbered as 
 he was with Jessie's cherished load, no conceivable 
 escape could be theirs. 
 
 Still more, he was liable to go wrong, and wander 
 blindly, up or down the avenue, as if into the very 
 throat of Moloch ; going aside, instead of crossing 
 aright into the shelter of the room beyond. This 
 very thought occurred to him, that there really was 
 danger, lest now that he had tripped and lost as it 
 were his aim, he might misconceive his intended 
 path, and stray blindfold up or down into ruin. 
 
 The fear carried with it its own remedy, and 
 made him take the more heed to note the direction
 
 Zone, 215 
 
 he had sought to attain at first. Cyril had also 
 now his full strength to use, and, with a great 
 effort or rally, he kept himself from falling; and 
 getting, on some side-beam, a sufficient footing, he 
 impelled himself forward, on, against the other 
 door, which flew open, while he got out of the 
 passage, and with such impetus, that he reeled and 
 spun and whirled into "the room," which he had 
 no sooner reached, than he swept from off his head 
 the singed and crimpled "helmet" of the blanket: 
 whereon he turned first to close the door once 
 more, as if in triumph, and as it were in the very 
 teeth of the fire, while long snaky flames like 
 demon tongues seemed as if they wanted to follow 
 him, and were loth to lose their prey. 
 
 " Thank God, she is safe, so far ! " was his leud 
 and grateful exclamation. And his chief joy was, 
 that in so harsh a struggle, his tender burden 
 Jessie had not been crushed against anything, 
 nor struck by any end or edge, nor shaken, nor 
 reached by even one lurid point of flame, but that 
 SHE was as absolutely unharmed, so far, as when she 
 had just now been resting on her peaceful couch. 
 
 He still preserved around her, the zone of his 
 mighty arm ; and he determined that he would not 
 forego that hold, till he had landed her in safety. 
 When he uttered his ejaculation of thanks for her 
 being safe, she deeply appreciated his thinking so 
 entirely and exclusively of her; and by way of 
 acknowledgment, she made no response in words, 
 but she kissed his shoulder whereon her head lay.
 
 2 1 6 Jessie of Bouloone. 
 
 so timidly, however, that Cyril did not know he 
 had such a privilege. Indeed Cyril felt some- 
 what disconcerted now at findinof his scorched riprht 
 hand so painful ; not that he cared about cuts or 
 scratches or scalds, and as for a little burninor, it 
 would not matter in the least : but he was afraid 
 of being disabled : and as what he had still to do 
 was far from easy, he did not like to have to get 
 Jessie down the ladder, with his right hand not 
 available. And as his hand had seemed almost to 
 hiss and friz on the candent handle, so now he felt 
 as if the sinews had been made to shrivel or shrink. 
 Still, perhaps he could get some good out of it yet 
 for Jessie ? 
 
 His first act was to pull out his plugging of 
 the pane, and to draw open the window ; and then 
 a cheer, as loud as ever Frenchmen give (they do 
 not know how to cheer) broke from their warm 
 hearts, when he thus reappeared, bearing " the 
 woman " in his arms : after a lapse of time which 
 must have seemed great, to those who were in 
 such suspense. No one had followed him, because 
 it had (very sensibly) been judged, that it was 
 better for others not to go up and clog or risk the 
 very ladder, down which he might at any moment 
 be wanting to descend with '' the woman." 
 
 Cyril felt invigorated by the acclamation of the 
 crowd. He thought he heard a cranking sound as 
 of fire-engines at work ; and it seems men had got 
 upon the roof, and were trying to cope with the 
 flames, or at least to confine them to one quarter.
 
 Z.one. 217 
 
 The French have a very good plan, whereby most 
 roofs are furnished with a row of iron hooks or 
 curved stanchions, along which there can readily be 
 laid bars of wood, enabling persons to move about 
 the roof with ease. The soldiers and firemen had 
 in fact applied themselves to another part of the 
 house, which was better for extinguishing the fire, 
 though not for reaching Jessie ; it must have been 
 the servant-man's idea, to raise the ladder to the 
 particular window. And possibly Cyril was not 
 interfered with, because of the romance of the 
 thing ; because there must have been many of the 
 " swing-bridge " people here, and they would natu- 
 rally pass the word that he was the young lady's 
 lover : and the first impulse of all Frenchmen would 
 be, to agree to say, Let hinYh save her ! every 
 Frenchman being — what ? well, a romance in bag- 
 breeches : or at least a tragedy cwm comedy, in 
 unison with their own Voltaire's theory about their 
 "tiger and monkey" nature. Cyril was struck to 
 perceive, on opening the window, that whereas so 
 lately the night had seemed stark calm, and then 
 a slight sudden breath of air had arisen, now there 
 was quite a smart brisk breeze ; and this indeed 
 might account for there having been suddenly so 
 much as there was, of a draught of fire, along the 
 passages. 
 
 With the sort of superstitious feeling which he 
 had, not to let Jessie out of his arms, he clasped 
 her still, while his next act was to go to the bed 
 which was in the room, and draw the large wool
 
 2 1 8 Jessie of Boulog7ie. 
 
 mattress from it to the window, and push it right 
 out ; telling the people below, to hold the mattress, 
 to catch " anyone who fell." The men were going 
 therefore to remove the ladder, as if they under- 
 stood him to mean that he would trust alone to 
 their catching her, if he dropped her to them ; but 
 he told them not to disturb the ladder at all, and 
 merely to hold the bed as a supernumerary succor, 
 in case he could not otherwise succeed. Cyril was 
 gratified to observe how quick and smart the men 
 were, how intelligently they got ready, and how 
 jauntily they held the mattress, to catch anyone 
 falling ; making up by their numbers for what they 
 might want in streno^th. 
 
 Cyril had also drawn the lace-like coverlet from 
 off the bed, and let it hang half out of the window. 
 Then he got up and stood on the window-ledge, 
 which was low and broad ; and, shutting the 
 window, the coverlet which was thus jambed 
 in, formed a good hand-rail or vertical balustrade, 
 useful, not for strength, but to steady the begin- 
 ning of the descent, and to avert the mischance of 
 his declining to either side. The ladder was only 
 three feet below the window-ledge ; and some 
 might think there was therefore no difiiculty : but^ 
 those who have tried the like, know it is an 
 awkward feat even to mount up to a place that 
 may be at all beyond or higher than the end of 
 a ladder : still more must it be arduous to descend 
 to it with one hand holding such a bale of beauty 
 as Jessie, and the other hand half incapaci-
 
 Zone, 2 1 9 
 
 tated, as Cyril's right hand had more and more 
 become. 
 
 Cyril therefore saw that he should want Jessie's 
 own aid, to ensure her own descent ; for, though her 
 weight was " like a feather " to him, he felt that, to 
 get safely over the ledge, he must use both his arms, 
 instead of dedicating one arm as hitherto to her 
 support. Thus she would have to sustain herself 
 awhile, by means of her own strength ! And, would 
 this be possible, for one so young, so delicate, so 
 refined ; with her nerves perhaps unstrung, by the 
 combined terrors of the conflagration and the head- 
 long height? It was more than such a gentle 
 maiden could be expected to achieve. The ques- 
 tion was, would not her own weight be more than 
 her own arms could bear ? Her figure indeed was 
 elegant and light, and her waist was quite as slim 
 and small as any girl's need be ; nevertheless her 
 form was finely rounded, and her limbs were rich 
 and full: and in such fair flesh there would be 
 some weight, little indeed for Cyril to upbear, but 
 would it not be too much for herself to sustain ? 
 
 Cyril therefore told her it would be necessary 
 (as he felt it was) for her to try to let her own 
 weight depend for a brief space on herself; and he 
 added that in case she found herself unequal to 
 the strain, she was to endeavor still to cling to 
 him, and to help herself even with her feet. He 
 said assuringly, '* I think you can. Lock your 
 fingers into each other." 
 
 B.e,T answer was, to tighten the pressure of hefn^
 
 220 yessie of Boiilogne. 
 
 gorgeous arms, and to award him another unfelt 
 caress. 0, as she cleaved to him, thus, the wild 
 thought throbbed through Cyril's heart. Was there 
 some fondness in her embrace ? Would she relent 
 towards him, and like him ? And, there and then, 
 unsuitable as the place was, the conviction forced 
 itself on him, how wondrous would be the bliss 
 of such a woman's love. Still, he reverted to the 
 self-counsel, that he must not delude himself, and 
 that she was much too great a blessing for him 
 ever to possess. 
 
 At the same time that he urged her thus to strive 
 to support herself, he resolved in his own mind that 
 if she seemed to be slipping or slackening her grasp, 
 he would hold on, as best he could, with his burnt 
 hand, or with his teeth ; and give her back his left 
 arm as before, to save her still, if he could. 
 
 If he might only reach the ladder, all would be 
 right. So he knocked out with his foot the lower 
 squares of glass, to give his arm entrance ; whence 
 he softly dropped himself down, till he sat on the 
 window-sill : then putting his right arm through 
 the place of the lowest pane, into the room, to 
 give himself as it were a strong pivot for his move- 
 ment, he suspended himself on the strength, not of 
 his right hand but of his right arm, his left arm 
 being still, as before, encircling Jessie : and in this 
 manner he lowered himself down as far as his crookt 
 right arm would let him. 
 
 Now came the awful moment, of brief but ter- 
 rible trial, for Jessie herself; when Cyril's arm was
 
 Zone, 22 1 
 
 to be withdrawn, and when her whole frame was 
 to rest on her own fragile tendons. She held fast, 
 and interlaced her fingers; her arms were thus 
 locked round Cyril's neck : she also shut her eyes, 
 with the instinct that there would be no use for her 
 brain to grow too dizzy. 
 
 '^ I am removing my arm." His arm was re- 
 moved ! She was upheld by herself, at all that 
 awful height. 
 
 Well did she bear the dread ordeal. There was 
 some strength in her taper arms. There was some 
 courage in her guileless heart. 
 
 Cyril felt she was safe ; and then alone, turning 
 round more to face the wall, he put up his hand 
 which had held her, and he griped the ledge with it, 
 while he drew his other arm out of the room : and 
 thus he brought himself down, to reach a convenient 
 portion of the ladder, steadying himself by the 
 pendent lace- work. Soon he had gained far enough 
 downwards, for his disabled right hand to be a 
 sufficient brace or stay. Instantly his left arm 
 flew back to its old place, to be again Jessie's 
 welcome zone or girdle. 
 
 The danger was over ! He had rescued her whom 
 he loved. This would at least be a thought of 
 joy, to cheer him in all his lonely years. 
 
 And lightly and rapidly down the ladder he 
 descended, till he stood secure on the soM ground, 
 amid the acclaiming crowd ; and he still bore Jessie 
 on his faithful arm, nor did she seem to want to 
 be released.
 
 '2-22 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 REMOVED. 
 
 " The world was all before them, where to choose 
 Their place of rest, and Providence their guide." 
 
 MlLTO^^ 
 
 When Cyril reached the ground, he perceived close 
 beside him, the aunt, and apparently her maid, both 
 of whom were much affected, and crying profusely, 
 owing to the excitement of the scene. 
 
 They seemed unable to speak, with emotion ; 
 (indeed, the noise at the time, all round, was too 
 great to let anything else almost but the noise be 
 heard : ) and so they extended their arms, as if it 
 was all they could do, to receive Jessie, who they 
 might well think had not escaped without some 
 personal injury, some burn or bruise. But Cyril 
 said, "No harm or hurt whatsoever has befallen 
 her " ; nor would he give her up, saying as he did, 
 not so much peremptorily as pleadingly, "It is 
 better not to disturb her now, in such a place as 
 this ! " so, some more muffling of a light kind, to 
 cover her head and hair and arms, was thrown over 
 her, by "Arabella" the maid, and all the party 
 moved on.
 
 Removed, 22^ 
 
 The feeling that made Cyril determined still to 
 carry Jessie, though neither expressed nor analyzed, 
 was to the effect that it would be horrible for the 
 foul cold ground to touch Jessie's feet, the feet, 
 which, though he had not seen them, were beauteous 
 in idea, so small and white and tender and warm, 
 so young and lovely ; yes, those feet whose angelic 
 attitude he had so intensely admired : nothing chill 
 nor dank must touch them, nor are they even to be 
 visited by the keen night air. Much less should 
 her blanket covering be unsettled amid the crowd. 
 Such thoughts were not spoken, nor even formed 
 into a " code " ; yet the persuasion was underlying 
 and real: and, believe me, sometimes our most 
 insubstantial impressions are among our most 
 argumentative convictions. 
 
 It did not seem to be clear, under whose influence 
 or guidance it was, that they moved as they did, or 
 why they moved in any one particular direction. 
 Somebody had doubtless arranged it ; Cyril did not 
 see the man-servant " Peters " : perhaps he had 
 looked out for some place of refuge : or possibly it 
 was all only some touter's or scout's management. 
 The touters are great managers. Such people are 
 uncommonly astute, and sometimes they will suc- 
 cessfully undertake to convince you, that the lodging 
 " on the cold ground," in some mean abode, on the 
 letting of which they are to receive a percentage, 
 is quite a palatial retreat ; and even if they cannot 
 exactly establish this, they will demonstrate, with 
 extensive volubility, that it is the only place there
 
 224 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 is to be had. Many a fastidious rover is thus lured 
 into ensconcing himself in some graveolent dormitory, 
 which" he persuades himself is preferable to sleeping 
 on the door-mat of this or that hotel, where all the 
 rooms are so full, that the Americans have to roost 
 in hammocks, on poles thrust out of the windows. 
 The caterers for such " establishments " are the more 
 urgent, the less reason they have to induce you; 
 and their repertory of lies is of the most fancy 
 character, with ingenuity worthy of a better cause. 
 They usually bag you best, in some time of trouble, 
 when you have sand in your eyes, or when you have 
 lost your luggage, or when you are in any flurry, 
 and thinking in fact of anything rather than going 
 to bed; then, they think for you, when you do not 
 care to think for yourself In these beings, we see 
 the human variety of the vulture or jackal. Indeed, 
 it is curious, how many people, living on accidents, 
 are always sallying out for prey, like a kite or a 
 cabman. By the way, not only the most greedy in 
 fact, but also the most voracious in look, of all 
 animals, is, the jarvey or cabby; how ma wish and 
 and gaunt is his gaze at the passers-by, and how 
 hungrily he scans you whether you are worthy of a 
 hail: his searching glance makes one's ribs quite 
 creep, and one's coppers chink : a little more, and 
 he would cannibal you outright. 
 
 Cyril supposed it was all arranged, and he moved 
 on, as the aunt did ; but the destination, which was 
 facing the ships, proved to be but a short distance 
 off: and the place struck him as being singularly
 
 Removed, 22^ 
 
 unsuitable for her : but perhaps it had been selected 
 or submitted to, as the "nearest port" in a storm. 
 And at present the town really had the reputation 
 of being quite crammed, "chock-full" of English, 
 with " not a bed to be had " ; also, at that hour of 
 night, there might be more difficult}^ in obtaining 
 room anywhere, since the French housekeepers 
 sensibly all go to bed early, in order to save their 
 candles, and to rise betimes. 
 
 The house was not a mere estaminet or smokinsf 
 tavern, it was rather of the small lodging-house 
 order, with rooms large but low and common-looking. 
 The apartments available seemed to be on the 
 ground-floor. And as Cyril was entering he noticed 
 some rough men hanging about ; one of them, who 
 was English, (and probably the master, being in his 
 shirt-sleeves, as " French " cocks-of-the-walk always 
 are,) was partly drunk: and Cyril thought he heard 
 him say to a touter-looking fellow, "What is the 
 use of your bringing theon here ? " The men who 
 beset the door had the invariable gripy and pitiless 
 aspect of bailiffs, or other agents of avarice; and 
 some altercation or other was evidently in progress. 
 Cyril however had no ear for them ; all he insensibly 
 was aware of, was, that only under the direst neces- 
 sity, should such elegant ladies be domiciled in such 
 an inferior caravanserai. But if the aunt or her 
 servants had been cowed or inveigled into accepting 
 the accommodation, perhaps not caring where or what 
 it was, so that it was safe ; he had only to comply. 
 As Cyril moved in, he saw the front room was a 
 VOL I. ]5
 
 2 26 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 parlour, which seemed to have only a small pile of 
 boxes, doubtless the ladies ' luggage. Behind the 
 parlour was a good large bedroom, in which there 
 were one or two sympathetic and good-natured- 
 looking Frenchwomen. At the door of this bedroom, 
 the aunt and maid turned and again held out their 
 arms, to receive Jessie, from Cyril; they were 
 weeping still, indeed more than ever, though they 
 knew she was ''not hurt" : but doubtless now their 
 tears were dews of joy, like the grand crying- 
 matches which always come off, when match-makers 
 succeed in having a " desirable " marriage solemnized 
 at " the altar," using as much lachrymose fluid as 
 would do at the most lugubrious " berrying." 
 
 Cyril was much disturbed at the crying ; he was 
 more nervous at it than he would have been under 
 a cannonade : indeed, a man, with a kindly and 
 woman-loving heart like his, is more bewildered and 
 annoyed at the tears and pathetic moans of nice 
 women, than he would be amid an oratorio of 
 panthers, or where spires and chimney-pots were 
 rocking in an earthquake. A young man in such a 
 case is neither able quite to see why the girls cry 
 at all, nor does he know what to do, whether he 
 ought to cry also, or to offer comfort, or help, or to 
 howl, or what. His natural instinct is, to get away. 
 
 The aunt and maid thus held their arms out, and 
 took Jessie from him, clasping and kissing her, as if 
 in an agony of delight at her being recovered and 
 saved from such perils. Their weeping prevented 
 their utterance; the Frenchwomen indeed chat-
 
 Removed, 22'^ 
 
 tered : but Cyril did not hear Arabella utter any- 
 thing but once or twice the gasping exclamation 
 " my dear young lady ! " and as for the other lady, 
 the fact was, that no sooner was Cyril gone, than 
 the aunt, worn out with the concentrated anxiety, 
 and overcome with feeling, sank insensible in one of 
 the Frenchwomen's arms : Cyril however did not 
 know this. Wlmt he now felt was, that of course 
 he could not force himself into the bedroom; 
 already, he had as it were intruded enough, on the 
 privacy of the young girl, which the circumstances 
 indeed had authorized : but now he must be doubly 
 careful not to thrust himself one atom farther than 
 was really necessary. Tt would be all very fine^for 
 him to push on into the room, and stay there, pre- 
 tending that he could give help, and make himself 
 a very convenient and " useful young man," to get 
 " the girl " to bed, asking questions, and ferreting 
 out names and places; or, he might even boldly 
 allege that he was a " duly qualified " surgeon, in 
 order that he might fuss about Jessie, and support 
 her on his knee, and feel her pulse, and examine at 
 least her elbows, and try the action of her heart, and 
 order her a warm bath, and help to put her in, and 
 throw her into a fever : and leave at last, kneeling 
 and kissing her hand, and so forth. But, he should 
 have to pay dearly afterwards, for such ungenerous 
 conduct, in his own esteem, not to say Jessie's. 
 
 He felt that the commonest delicacy prescribed, 
 he should not only resign his precious load to those 
 who so properly could receive her as she was, but
 
 228 yessie of Boulogne. 
 
 also he ought to retire forthwith, leaving all enqui- 
 ries or speeches to the future. 
 
 In this manner, with all the true nobleness of 
 heart of a real gentleman, Cyril would not wait as 
 if to be thanked ; but, leaving the ladies to the re- 
 tirement which would be most congenial to them at 
 such a moment, he merely bowed low, as he gave up 
 Jessie, only saying in a cheery tone '* All is well " : 
 and at once he quickly withdrew, knowing that 
 when he called in the morning, would be the fitting 
 time for explanations and thanks and so on. 
 
 As for Jessie herself, on her getting to the house, 
 she was more overcome than she had been hitherto ; 
 she had already borne up so bravely, now there 
 must be a little ebb of energy. And, the feeling 
 of loving, and leaning on Cyril, though unutterably 
 delicious, had been so new and strange, the result 
 must be trying and exhausting; thus indeed the 
 human machine always has to pay, in wear and tear^ 
 for any out-of-the-way sensations. Hence Jessie 
 became as it were stunned, by her own intensities 
 of feeling, so that she was a good deal prostrated in 
 powers ; indeed, a slight dizziness had been spread- 
 ing over her, ever since Cyril touched the ground. 
 She had been trying a little to get up a pretty 
 speech, about "unable to express her thanks "; but, 
 when the time came, she, like many an orator, could 
 not express herself: and the gentle girl could only 
 cry : and (tears being said to be catching, among the 
 " Female Sex "), she was soon in the thick of crying 
 in concert with the others : and as Cyril gave her up
 
 Removed, 229 
 
 she was quite sobbing, which made poor Cyril feel 
 miserable. Jessie was not only unable to make any 
 fine farewell speeches to him, but she had not the 
 'power to say anything to him at all ; besides, she 
 had, fluttering about her modest little heart, an 
 instinctive perception, that her existing plight 
 was not fit, for her to talk with a gentlemen : and 
 so the consciousness of undress tied her tongue. 
 The thought was not formed in any definite shape ; 
 still, the latent idea insensibly influenced her. 
 
 On the whole, as regards " thanks," she had a sort 
 of intuitive consciousness that it did not matter very 
 much, if she could not formally thank Cyril; feeling 
 as she did, that it would be almost absurd, i£ not 
 disingenuous, for her to go through the ceremony of 
 rendering any ordinary assurances of obligation, to 
 one, who had her very soul's devotion. Her Cyril 
 who saved her was to be thanked, not by words, but 
 by life and love. Perhaps if, apart from bashful- 
 ness, her real wish could be stated, it would have 
 been more in the style of only hoping, that when 
 next she should see him, under less shame-faced 
 auspices, she might go up to him, and lean her head 
 once more on his shoulder, and avow — not that she 
 could avow to him, how dear to her he was. 
 
 Thus then didCyril make over Jessie to her excited 
 friends; whereon he precipitately drew back, and 
 passed into the roadway, his heart being wrung by 
 Jessie's sobs : he had also an idea that she would 
 cease her tears, the sooner, when he was gone. 
 
 He took note of the house; and, not knowing
 
 230 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 what else to do, he thought he would see whether at 
 that late hour he could find any professional man 
 who would tell him whether his grilled hand was 
 really a case of permanent damage, or only of pass- 
 ing pain. If it was only to smart a little, it would 
 be of no consequence ; but as he had not learnt to 
 write his letters with his left hand, he would not 
 like to hear Mr. Methought's voice say to him. Write 
 no more I 
 
 Finding a sensible red-faced practitioner, he was 
 glad to be assured that what he had thought was a 
 contraction of the sinews, was only the swelling of 
 the inflamed metacarpus or palm and so forth of the 
 hand ; having indeed the same eflfect for the mo- 
 ment, in making his paw useless : but, it was a mere 
 case of common care and liniments and unguents, 
 and all would be well again, in a fortnight or less. 
 
 While Cyril then, in better spirits, passed as 
 Shenstone would say, "home" to his inn, he ob- 
 served that the wind was rising quite strongly, with 
 rapidity in proportion to the depth of the preceding 
 calm. 
 
 When he gained his well-earned couch, he was 
 much less discouraged than, when musing by the 
 sea, he had thought this night would find him. 
 Here was he, now actually enjoying his bed, yes, 
 the very same Mr. Cyril, who had this very evening 
 been afraid of retiring to his couch, and who had 
 meant to have been a compulsory peripatetic philos- 
 opher all night. Thus little do we know what events 
 are arranging for us. He had before been bemoaning,
 
 Removed, 231 
 
 that, whereas on the previous day he had seen Jessie 
 thrice, he had to-day met her only once. And yet, 
 at an hour when no interview could have been 
 expected, he had been enabled to see her, to speak 
 to her, to touch her, yes, to save her ! obtaining a 
 meeting which alone incomparably transcended all 
 that had passed between him and her before. 
 
 But, how would she meet him, when he called on 
 her in the morning ? She might be of course a little 
 embarrassed, but there was no reason why she 
 should be distant. She would at least be friendly 
 to him ! He then with intense satisfaction remem- 
 bered how his love for her had not betrayed him 
 into taking any undue advantage of the occasion ; 
 how his manipulations of herself had been so triily 
 reverential, and how he had taken no liberties 
 whatsoever with her beauty. He then, indeed^ 
 with a start of almost alarm, recollected that he 
 }iad kissed her thrice, dearest Jessie; but then, she 
 had not known it : besides, it was merely to wake 
 her. He did not seem to think there was any 
 harm, or any liberty, in that. Surely, among so 
 extensive and high a connexion as his, he could 
 discover some footing for improving his to-morrow's 
 acquaintance into intimacy ? Yes, he would have 
 her yet ! he would win her heart ! beauteous angel 
 
 And among all his rapt reminiscences of the 
 tragic scenes of the fire, none came home to Cyril's 
 heart so potentially, as the memory of Jessie, when 
 he drew her off her bed, and set her to stand 
 before him. 0, it would have been no marvel if he
 
 232 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 had thrown his enraptured arms around her, and 
 had folded her for one moment to his breast, and 
 had poured forth vows fervent as the flames 
 around I But, how cruel would it have been on 
 his part, how thoughtless, and unhandsome ; how 
 fatally on herself might have worked the shock or 
 wrench of such a surprise as to find herself so 
 suddenly saluted, however brief, however respectful, 
 however adoring might be the embrace. How 
 bitterly on himself would his inordiuate affection 
 have soon reacted ; for, as she could not but then 
 feel somewhat humbled, so he would also feel dis- 
 graced before her, as one who did not know how to 
 honor the maiden's helplessness. 
 
 Whereas now there was to be none of this misery 
 in the morning. Nothing had in the remotest 
 way degraded her; nor was he lowered either in 
 her eyes or in his own. Yes, such a glory of a girl 
 had been completely in his power, while he had her, 
 utterly, to himself; and now, that no advantage 
 had been taken of her, was a thought of simple 
 rapture. He felt, blissfully, virtue is worth follow- 
 ing for its own sake. And, he thought, perhaps the 
 folding her to his heart, was only a joy postponed, a 
 blessing yet to come. 
 
 Again and again did Cyril bring before his mind's 
 eye, that entrancing spectacle of Jessie, as he had 
 set her to stand in front of him. In the darkness of 
 his chamber, he seemed as if he could see her before 
 him, like a being of radiance, some seraph in robes 
 of lightning white. No words could describe what
 
 Removed, i^^Z 
 
 she seemed to him ; he saw lier alone, supremely 
 brilliant ! for, like as when one looks at the sun, 
 a solar glare afterwards fills the eyes, casting a halo 
 on every object we behold : so also the late scene 
 of Jessie, as she stood, before him, so angelically 
 white, so chaste, so tender, so trustful, so young, 
 so perfect, now seemed to Ijlaze through his re- 
 membrance, and literally to dazzle his soul. And 
 the image of a " pillar " recurred to him again, a 
 pillar of purity and beauty ; and he thought. It is of 
 such white pillars that the human temple of Christ's 
 own shining ones, is to be constructed. And Cyril 
 may be pardoned when now, under the impulse of 
 youth and love, he clasped and clenched liis hands 
 on his pillow, with enthusiasm and prayer, sayitig 
 " Dearest Jessie, darling girl, beauteous blessing, 
 good as fair, may every glory and bliss be thine ! " 
 
 Suchlike, though more subdued, were also Jessie's 
 fond thouQfhts. 
 
 Such warmth of heart indeed is a standing sub- 
 ject of blame, among those sanctimonious gorgons, 
 who are ever ready to say such love is all prurience 
 or lust or madness. But, their own lives are the 
 only sensualities in question. Never have tliey felt 
 the pure fire of love ; their matrimonial alliances 
 are mere sordid coalitions, dictated by considera- 
 tions of money or convenience or other baser ob- 
 jects. Their nasty coarse carcases are not capable 
 of any conceptions more spiritual than their glasses 
 of spirits, or the " perfume " of their cigars, or their 
 raptures over fine sirloins of beef No wonder that
 
 234 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 such carnal creatures condemn real love, as idolatry, 
 appetency, or lunacy, Their own unions may be 
 " blessed " with babies, and they may consider their 
 own husbanding and wiving a very holy concern ; 
 but the whole is as lovelessly mechanical and bestial 
 as the drunken nuptials of queen Caroline and 
 George the Fourth. Their connubiality is a busi- 
 ness of bodies, not of souls. Their " love " is as 
 gross as their raw mutton-chops. Their eating and 
 drinking and their loving, are all in the same lewd 
 flesh-born category. They love to browse, and they 
 love to swill, and they love their money, and they 
 '' love " each other ; and the one love is no loftier 
 than its companion case. 
 
 On the contrary, Cyril's love for Jessie, though so 
 impassioned, was altogether soil-less and ethereal, 
 spiritual and pure. It was with her own sacred 
 and undefiled being that he wished to mingle, 
 imparadised for ever. Nothing of the flesh, or of 
 the earth, was muddying this pellucid hope. His 
 aspiration was to gain a congenial soul, to have a 
 glorious and gracious friend, prized for herself, and 
 esteemed for her own excellences, a companion, a 
 consort, for everlasting ; that they both might be, as 
 the Bible somewhere says most beautifully, ''heirs 
 together of the grace of life." Cyril's and Jessie's 
 lovp. was so truly devoid of " self," that, by virtue of 
 fond thought, they as if changed existence with 
 each other. Cyril's very soul, as it were, issued 
 mightily out of himself, to abide in Jessie's bosom ; 
 and Jessie's essence crept like a saintly phantom, to
 
 Removed, 235 
 
 nestle in Cyril's heart. This is the true lover's knot, 
 when two kindred beings bend their spirits into 
 each other, weaving soul with soul, like the inter- 
 twinings of the knot. The world's rough tension 
 can only draw the knot more close, and it endures 
 for time and for eternity. Any bodily charms 
 which each mav have for the other, are mere erarnish 
 for the Affection, and are almost lost sight of, or 
 swallowed up, in this stainless marriage of souls. 
 
 Nothing could be more absurd than to think that 
 there was anything gross in the unsophisticated 
 innocence of Jessie's love. Her love was more gentle 
 than Cyril's, yet both were equallj^ unselfish and 
 unsullied ; each thinking not in the least of self, but 
 only of the other. Such love is the highest type of 
 affection that can (even imaginably) exist in arty" 
 created being ; perhaps even the very angels are not 
 capable of such superlatively pure attachment : 
 indeed, with the deepest reverence, I would say, I 
 believe such love is only surpassed by the ineffable 
 union of the Persons in the Triune Deity. Among all 
 the multitudes of lovers on our orb, there are perhaps 
 few who exemplify such guiltless passion. Still, 
 where it exists, it is bright and beauteous. And if 
 here any voluptuous prudes or luxurious puritans 
 would affect to murmur out, against us, such compli- 
 ments as " Abominable " or even " Blasphemous " ; 
 in return, I would, " morally " Uurl my inkstand at 
 their heads, and tell them that they and their 
 hircine hypocrisies may all go to the gutter 
 together.
 
 236 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 Sweet ideas so filled and lulled Cyril's heart, it 
 was no wonder that his sleep was rather longer than 
 usual. His first thought on rising was, at what 
 hour now should he present himself in the morning, 
 to enquire after Jessie and to see her ? Not before 
 half-past eleven ; this seemed the soonest he dared 
 name : perhaps between that and twelve should be 
 the time. 
 
 With his hand condemned to be for the present 
 in a sling, he then strolled about, to while away the 
 brief interval till the glad hour of meeting should 
 arrive, on this happy Wednesday morning. It was 
 market-day, and as he was in good spirits, he was 
 highly amused, watching the goings-on of the differ- 
 ent vendors; how more than one policeman went 
 about among them, with a metre rule, measuring 
 their standings, and scolding them and fining them : 
 and how the women made the most of their basket 
 room, and lit their funny little charcoal crucibles, 
 not so big as a stable lantern, and how they thus 
 warmed their coffee (with O. D. V. in it), or roasted 
 their eggs or apples, or had other queer little cook- 
 eries in progress : thus they fancied they made 
 themselves quite snug, selling their commodities all 
 the while, or huckstering and cheating (?) '* like 
 fun." One of the most ingenious things to be seen 
 among them, is, when a butter- woman feels peckish, 
 and wants her lunch ; then, first, she invests two 
 sous (one penny) in a beautiful superfine hot roll, 
 such bread as you cannot even fancy in England : 
 and next she turns a tall pound of her own butter
 
 Removed. 2^"] 
 
 on its beam-ends, and composedly cuts a thick slice 
 clean off the bottom, and at once she sets up the 
 "pound" of butter again on its cahhage-leEif, as if 
 nothing had happened : and she like the Sybil sells 
 her treasure for as much as she would have asked 
 for it before she curtailed it. To see her shaving off 
 the base of her own butter, and eating it herself, 
 and then selling the residue as if it was all right, is 
 a laughable exhibition of either very cool knavery 
 or else very good original weight. One woman 
 knew her butter was too light, and so, seeing the 
 inspector coming, she thrust a five-franc piece, nearly 
 an ounce of silver, into the butter ; but it was still 
 too light, and he went off with butter and five-franc 
 piece and all: how "desolated" did the poor' 
 woman feel : one half pities her chagrin : and her 
 husband would " whop " . her when she got home, 
 unless she (as is likely) could whop him. The lac- 
 tometer men suddenly stop all the milk-people in 
 the streets, and any cans that are wrong are emptied 
 out into the gutter; a man looks as silly as his 
 donkey, going back with his empty pails: and he 
 ma}^ very possibly have to pay a fine besides, for all 
 I know or care. 
 
 Cyril admired the neatness and alertness of the 
 market-women ; and he observed that their standing 
 joke was, if a customer offered them less than 
 they would take, to say they would sell it for that 
 " to-morrow," which may be rated as the French 
 calends : there is even an argument in it, as if ap- 
 pealing, To-morrow when it is stale it would be
 
 238 yessie of Boulogne* 
 
 worth that, but to-day when it is fresh it is worth 
 my price, so you had better buy : and this politely 
 circuitous negative reminds one of the Norman- 
 French custom of the British Parliament to reject 
 a measure by putting it off to the To-morrow of this 
 day six months. The Boulogne fish- women are rather 
 more plain-spoken in their version of the metaphor, 
 telling you that you may go to bed till to- 
 morrow. 
 
 But if Cyril admired the market-women, he no 
 less felt disgust at the " nuns," who with revolting 
 mock mendicancy, percolated like dirty water 
 among the stalls, begging (of course, not for them- 
 selves ?) at each basket, and getting a sou tossed to 
 them, or a bunch of turnips or an onion ; all seemed 
 grist that they could stow away in their greasy 
 wallets. Yet they looked both ungrateful and un- 
 happy,. thankless negatives, meet subsidiaries of 
 Pope Pius, the Ninth, Pio Nono, the im-pio old 0- 
 possum of the Non Possumus No — no. There are 
 two very significant pieces of popery, which are 
 very little known. One is, that, at Pome, when 
 the Pope is at church, every woman present is ex- 
 pected to be dressed " in black." This is the papal 
 etiquette, the Almacks of that religion. Another 
 feature is, that, at Rome, the hours are counted not 
 only up to twelve, but on to twenty-four ; so that 
 you positively speak of 22, 23, 24 o'clock. Truly, 
 the idea of every woman in church in black at 24 
 o'clock, may summarize the hideous harsh uncouth 
 unnatural effete system, which is all as tumble-
 
 Removed. 
 
 239 
 
 down and heathenish as any of Rome's old 
 ruins. 
 
 By a " fierce " transition, Cyril went off to think 
 that the blackness and repulsiveness of the popish 
 apparatus perhaps never can show itself out more 
 grimly, than in the purgatory-looking cemeteries, 
 especially the second-class ones, which are stuck full 
 of small wooden crosses, as unsightly as the old 
 brown pens of Smithfield, and which look from a 
 little distance like a chaos of little gibbets; no 
 words can convey the aspect of horror, that seems 
 to hang over that ghastly muddle of dead men's 
 sticks. It is a scene which might make you believe 
 in ghosts, and for which nothing but the heathen 
 stream Cocytus is appropriate ; some river of groans 
 alone ought to encompass that blood-curdling foreist 
 of ragged ribs : with the infernal Fires of Phlege- 
 thon in front. Perhaps nothing could give a more 
 gloomy idea of death and the grave, than such a 
 hideous stickery, which makes you feel with a 
 shudder how suitable is such an appalling finish, 
 for a purgatory popery. The humbler crosses and 
 wooden tomb-" stones " are covered with little black 
 shapes, in the form of large inverted commas, or 
 young comets, round heads with short tails, or more 
 closely resembling the juvenile frogs yclept tad- 
 poles. These shapes are called Larmes, or Tears ; 
 but, tears have no tails, and are round globules. 
 Perhaps the shapes are Ames or Souls, not Larmes ? 
 Whether or not, the whole has as rank heathenish 
 a tang, as can be conceived.
 
 240 ■ Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 Still, unfortunately, this sort of thing, with all 
 the pagan parade and pageantry of popery, would 
 seem at present to suit the mass of the people, who 
 do not want a serious religion, and who only desire 
 a religion that can amuse them. Hence among all 
 the wooden crosses, are hung curious, and often 
 ludicrous little remembrances ; thus, where a child 
 was buried, there was a box, with a glazed front, 
 and within, you could see the child's doll and other 
 toys, frying-pan and all, which speak perhaps of 
 affection, but the whole is in bad taste : it would 
 have been better to keep the memorial toys at 
 home, rather than nail them in a glass case to the 
 mortuary cross. It might mean to be pathetic ; 
 but it rather borders on the droll. It seems as if 
 even French sorrows must be giggish. This he>ps 
 to explain how a religion of fetes and shows, suits 
 the " mercurial " throng. The men indeed laugh at 
 both the priests and popery; still they join in the 
 festivals, to do as others do, and to entertain them- 
 selves, and pass the time, not knowing any better 
 religion, nor fancying that religion need be any 
 better. But the Frenchwomen are generally more 
 fanatical and sincere, since popery is to them a 
 religion of wreaths and ribbons and banners, 
 and streamers, and processionist bishops, to whom 
 mothers run in mobs, with their children to be 
 blessed — so pretty ! quite ravishing ! my ! And 
 then, at the grand funerals, it is so charming to 
 see men, as big as Frenchmen ever are, kissing a 
 silver thing like a flat smoothing-iron; and the
 
 Removed, 241 
 
 children look so nice, masquerading in veils and 
 coronals ! while in the churches the poor children 
 take the '' First communion," kneeling in batches, 
 guillotine fashix)n, with a long slobbering-bib, in 
 shape like a bed valance, held under their row of 
 chins, to catch the drip from the wetted wafers. 
 
 Many silly English idlers affect to admire the 
 senseless ceremony; and on the spur of such ad- 
 miration [" wondering after the Beast "], they are 
 perhaps ready to turn to popery, which they might 
 safely do, and no loss, for any sterling protestantism 
 which they themselves have, to begin with. If they 
 do " turn," and if they want to become as offen- 
 sive as possible, they had better act as auxiliaries 
 to the mad old woman, "ifa(ille" Delpierre, wtio 
 wears a patch over one eye as a penance, because 
 she would be too pretty without it. However, I take 
 her black patch to be simply a staring emblem of 
 her own spiritual darkness ; and if she would only 
 stop up the other eye, she would be a still better 
 symbol of Popery, all black blind. Doubtless, her 
 vow is, to wear the patch, till she can " convert " 
 all the English ; and thus she may remind us of 
 Sir Walter Manny, who with other young knights 
 in the reign of Edward the Third, put a black 
 patch over one eye, and made a vow not to take it 
 off, till they had achieved some gallant exploit 
 against the French. Thus, copying some of our old 
 monocular Don Quixotes, this "French" female with 
 the black patch is one of the English institutions of 
 the place, and waylays all Cockneys, prowling as a 
 
 VOL. I. 16
 
 242 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 gratuitous Papist about the Grande Rue, bothering- 
 people to take one of her crosses or medals or " little 
 books ; " &he speaks English, and is said to be Jherself 
 a pervert to popery, and so she shows a renegade's 
 usual black (patch) zeal : doubtless she will soon 
 turn back again, and then perhaps she will just as 
 much exemplify what Shakespeare (in " Midsummer 
 Night's Dream") says, "Or as the heresies that 
 men do leave Are hated most of those they did de- 
 ceive," She might be enough undeceived, by the 
 follies of her own little books, which were written 
 for her by a tonsured man who left the popish 
 priesthood to get married. The right wa}^ to cross 
 the overtures of this black hen Po%-phemus, is, to 
 have ready copied out for her the verse in the 
 Gospel which speaks about hypocrites compassing 
 sea and land to gain one proselyte, and then making 
 him twofold more the child of hell than them- 
 selves. 
 
 It really would be only fair that some of the 
 English should by their religious or other eccen- 
 tricities, provide some compensatory recreation for 
 the laughter-loving French, if there be any truth in 
 the common tale of respectable French grocers and 
 the like, who statedly complain that such and such 
 a nominal Captain or Hon. Colonel (perhaps only a 
 whiskered chemist) was supplied with goods for 
 such a time ; when suddenly, off he marches, with 
 all his company, leaving neither, money nor trace 
 behind. And yet the French tradesmen make 
 money, like Goldsmith's farmer Flamborough, and
 
 Removed, 243 
 
 prosper, in spite of all the clever and ruined Jen^ 
 kinsons. As long as the English can pay, they are 
 looked on with sweet indulgence, much as a man 
 eyes his fattening hvdl-Q^dXi. The complaisance with 
 which the rich English are treated, is shown (perhaps 
 a little on the " glad to get rid of you " principle) 
 even to the dead ; for not only in Boulogne are the 
 defunct English heretics allowed to be interred 
 amonj the Gallican-Catholics, but also whereas the 
 French rule is that a dead Frenchman must be 
 buried within thirty-six hours after death, English 
 corpses are permitted to be kept above ground for a 
 week, or as long as the relatives may wish. Indeed, 
 as Teddy would say, they are so glad to get " shut " 
 of you on any terms, that when you are dead, y5u 
 may live above ground as long as you like, nor 
 need you be buried until you have a mind to. 
 
 One of the stalest tricks for chousing the French, 
 is, for an Englishman, when cast or fined, to appeal 
 to the superior court ; and in the meantime, before 
 the appeal can be tried, he gets clean off, to England 
 or elsewhere, out of the French jurisdiction : with 
 no other disadvantage except that he can never 
 again revisit the French soil, even in Cochin China 
 or Cayenne. One wonders that some detainer or 
 caveat or "ne exeat regno" process^ is not enforced 
 against such will-o'-the-wisp appellants. Perhaps 
 the "smartest" trick was that played by an English 
 family who had lived in great style near Boulogne, 
 and got deeply into debt ; and then, on a Sunday 
 night, they gave a grand ball, which was kept up
 
 244 ^esste of Boulogne, 
 
 till one or two o'clock : and as soon as the guests 
 were gone, the whole family walked quietly down 
 to the London steamer, which was then starting, and 
 so they got into their berths and bade good-night 
 to their cares and their creditors. 
 
 ■ By this time, Cyril had gone on through some 
 funny back streets ; and at length he got up to the 
 Jetee de I'Est, and went on to his favorite place, the 
 end of the pier. 
 
 The wind was now, and had been for some time, 
 blowing quite a gale ; this being in fact the same 
 sudden storm in which (as we saw) our friend 
 Teddy gave the aid of his nautical skill to the Bou- 
 logne fishermen. The sea was coming in, very 
 rough ; and the swell was rolled some waj^ up into 
 the harbour, between the two piers. 
 
 It was now just a quarter past eleven o'clock ; and 
 the early Folkestone packet was about starting, as 
 the tide served. Cyril heard the shutting off the 
 steam, and he saw the rapid vessel beginning to 
 move towards him. 
 
 Before the steam-packet came on to the jaws of 
 the sea, to meet the tempest, the passengers were 
 evidently getting below to shield themselves in the 
 cabin ; since only a very few persons were on deck. 
 
 The steamer dashed down, very potently and 
 proudly under Cyril, as from the pier he watched 
 its onward rush. 
 
 What, however, was his consternation, his mad- 
 dening amazement, when he, staring as if his eyes 
 would burst out of their sockets, saw distinctly the
 
 Removed. 245 
 
 heads of Jessie and the maid Arabella, who were 
 just descending into the cabin ! 
 
 There was no doubt about its being Jessie ; Floss 
 also, who was on his old place on the seat of the pier, 
 saw her and barked furiously, in recognition, if not 
 vexation, but he was not noticed. Yes, it was 
 Jessie, with the maid helping her tenderly down to 
 the cabin; and close behind them, in course of 
 sequence also to the cabin, was the aunt, who did 
 not look up to where Cyril was, because she was 
 looking after Jessie : yet the aunt's head was suffi- 
 ci'ently turned, to let him see her aigrette on her 
 brow, so that there was no mistake as to her 
 identity : and there was the servant-man limping 
 up, carrying cloaks and bags to be brought into flie 
 cabin. 
 
 The revulsion of seeing the ladies gone, gone for 
 ever, was so terrible to Cyril, who had just been 
 contemplating his calling on them, and seeing Jessie 
 under hopeful auspices, at the very time ; he could 
 have dashed into the sea, to swim after them, had 
 there been any use in it. 
 
 Or, he could have shouted to them, but they 
 would not have heard it ; nor would the steamer 
 stop for anyone's roar : and at most, if noticed at 
 all, he would be supposed to be merely some ma- 
 niacal bidder of good-bye. 
 
 The whole thing seemed unreal ; it appeared so 
 utterly unfounded, though he saw it, that the Jessie 
 whom he loved, whom he had saved, whom he sup- 
 posed to have begun to conceive an interest in him,
 
 246 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 and whom he was now in a few minutes to have 
 called upon and seen ; should thus pass away from 
 him, blankly, coldly, carelessly, as if his relations to 
 her had been the merest cursory trifle, not worthy 
 of continued thought. Cyril felt as if the powers of 
 both body and of mind were paralyzed. He could 
 only gaze at her departure, with mute dismay, and 
 as if he were turned to stone.
 
 Lost 247 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 LOST. 
 
 " Tti peace, love tunes tlie slieplierd''s reed, 
 In war, he mounts the warrior''s steed ; 
 In halls, in gay attire is seen, 
 In hamlets, dances on the green : 
 Love rules the court, the camp, the grov-e, 
 And men below, and saints above : • 
 
 For, love is heaven, and h-eaven is love, " 
 
 Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 Never perhaps was a young man more deserving of 
 being compassionated than was Cyril, when thus, 
 at the identical time when he had hoped to have 
 been ushered into the presence of his idolized Jessie, 
 under circumstances peculiarly favorable to his 
 most rapturous hopes; he saw her borne forth 
 bodily away from him, through a tempestuous sea, 
 without any vestige of notice or regard being ac- 
 corded to him. And thus the whole complexion of 
 things amounted to a definite declaration on her 
 part, that the last thing she personally desired^ 
 would be, to meet him, or to encourage him, or to 
 let him cherish any expectation that she could ever 
 favor his anticipated addresses.
 
 248 Jessie of Boucogne. 
 
 Nevertheless, all sorts of desperate expedients 
 presented themselves, almost allowably, to Cyril's 
 agonized brain. 
 
 The idea even occurred to hira, to rush off to the 
 " authorities," and get the packet recalled. But 
 how is he to do this ? is he to accuse the steamer, 
 or someone on board of it, some imaginary M. 
 Melanippe or the like, of forging French banknotes, 
 or of being concerned in a Meal-Tub plot, or any- 
 thing, so as to get cannon fired, and imperial signals 
 made, as if France's angry order "Come back," 
 which the steamer's little bouncer of a captain 
 would not dare to disobey, or slight, as when Nelson 
 put his telescope to his blind eye ? 
 
 But, even if he could get such influence evoked, 
 to make the steamer return ; what a strange pre- 
 dicament he would lapse into, himself, perhaps put 
 into irons, as a reward for his nonsensical false 
 criminations : and what would be his only veritable 
 extenuation ? merely that he wanted to bring back 
 a vessel in which was a girl whom he doated on 
 and who wanted to get away from him ! 
 
 In this last broad and staring fact, was a con- 
 sciousness which was stupefying to him. The pang 
 was pitiless. The blow was desolating. When 
 Homer wants to describe a man's beino; rendered 
 almost torpid by rough usage, the bard of heroes 
 uses the graphic Greek phrase, " Estuphelixen," to 
 denote one's being staggered, stunned, and crushed. 
 Cyril had little anticipated, when he had often read 
 aud admired the expressive term, that he himself
 
 Lost. 149 
 
 one day should give so sad an embodiment of the 
 ruining in question. What came home now so 
 clearly to him, was, the conviction, that like as 
 Jessie had taken advantage of the crowd at the 
 bridge, to avoid him, and get away from him ; so 
 also now she resorted to the final step of hastening 
 even through a hurricane, and at an early hour, 
 before he could call or be seen, yes, hurrying off, as 
 if through fire and water, to leave him hopelessly 
 behind. 
 
 And then he thought, how, so very lately, only 
 twelve hours ago, her glowing arms had been 
 pressed around his neck, amid the deadly dangers 
 of the fire ! 
 
 Must there not be some mistake ? Full of this 
 idea, he set out to run back to the packet wharf, 
 prepared to charter out another steamer, if it cost 
 him five hundred or five thousand pounds, so as to 
 pursue the outgoing vessel, and ascertain the causes 
 of Jessie's flight. 
 
 But he soon paused, and reverted to his previous 
 position, staring after the careering vessel, as it 
 went forth. For, he felt, even if he could come up 
 with Jessie, what could he expect more than what 
 had been dealt out to him already, namely, civility 
 in his presence, and studied avoidance of him at the 
 first practicable opportunity ? This was something 
 resident in Jessie's own sensations, which could not 
 be altered by any chase, any enquiry, any pursuit. 
 What would be the use of running on headlong, to 
 gain another silent numbing repulse ? The reason
 
 250 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 of his getting such a moral " slap in the face," would 
 (he argued) seem to be simply this, that the ladies 
 could doubtless feel obliged to him for any services 
 which chance enabled him to perform, just as they 
 would say " Thank you " to a porter who recovered 
 a reticule, or like as they would hand half-a-crown to 
 some useful ragamuffin ; thus, they could be under 
 obligation, so far as this. But, once that the awful 
 element, of love for Jessie, entered into the field of 
 consideration ; then ! every other thought must be 
 merged, and the sole point for contemplation would 
 be, How could he be best eliminated from their 
 presence for ever ? 
 
 Cyril even canvassed with himself the question, 
 Was Jessie already engaged to some one else ? 
 
 But he instantly answered this in the negative ; 
 for, there was something about her, in every move- 
 ment, and in her whole air and manner, which so 
 eloquently told of a mind purely virgin and intact, 
 indicating such simple maidenhood, that he felt 
 convinced there was not in her case even any State 
 alliance, where she would be the victim of some 
 loveless family compact : and he also felt instinct- 
 ively certain, that her heart had been quite free, 
 not even solicited by anyone hitherto : his love was 
 the first love she ever had come near. His dis- 
 missal by such an unshackled heart seemed to him 
 more formidable and decisive, than even a prior 
 engagement would have been. What could he 
 possibly do, in the case of the young maiden's un- 
 sympathizing spirit, now that he had incautiously
 
 Lost. 251 
 
 made known to her his love, and when she only 
 spurned his soft advances, with terror and distaste ? 
 It would be as if he sought to draw an oil painting 
 on a sheet of tissue paper; the material itself 
 antecedently repudiated the attempt. How could 
 he essay to sketch love lines on Jessie's youthful 
 unripened, renunciatory texture ? He could not 
 any more come into her presence as a mere friend ; 
 he was an understood lover : and as a lover, he was 
 not to be for one moment received. Such an 
 impediment would be more insuperable than any 
 barrier, more inflexible than bars of iron, and more 
 exiling than any set formula of rejection. 
 
 These would be the views of both ladies. Doubt- 
 less (added he, to himself), some " gratitude " was 
 felt for his saving Jessie from the flames ; and even 
 tears might be kindly shed for him, in pity for 
 what he must feel : but, the imperative duty, not 
 to mislead him, not to foster the remotest idea of 
 love, would be superior to every other motive : and 
 thus the decree Begone ! was as stringent against 
 him, as if he had done deeds worthy of indignant 
 detestation. 
 
 Cyril, in his agony of mind, tore his hand out of 
 the sling, as if he were going to wave his arm, or 
 else to dash his hair aside, (if not to pluck his hair 
 out), only for the bandage on the hand ; and at 
 once, as it were how burningly, did that hand again 
 remind him of lier ! 
 
 Nevertheless, it shows that Cyril was a true 
 lover, inasmuch as, amid his torturing throes of
 
 252 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 heart, his breast never for one moment formed 
 against Jessie the accusation of ingratitude, nor 
 of anything else that was evil or unkind. It was 
 as if part of his nature, not to blame her ; he raust 
 think well of her, whatever she might do towards 
 him, and however harshly she might seem to use 
 him. Indeed, he, suffering as he did in soul, had 
 even an undefined consciousness that her conduct 
 was noble ; she treated him perhaps with Spartan 
 firmness, severe, no doubt : still, she was influenced 
 by a lucid view of what would even be deemed the 
 best for his own peace. 
 
 At such a time, amid anguish and disaster, felt 
 to be of the vastest proportions, it is a singular 
 faculty of the human mind that it will sometimes 
 turn, and range low, like birds in a storm, noting 
 little incidents, and fretting over minor features of 
 the misery. Thus it was an additional pain to 
 Cyril, that the ladies did not even look up to that 
 end of the pier where he and they had seen each 
 other first. In this however his sorrow was too 
 exacting. He might perhaps have actually inter- 
 preted the event the other way. Had he, instead 
 of now despairing, been on the look-out for sanguine 
 hopes, he might even have imagined that the ladies 
 Ifiad lingered (as he saw them) longer than others, 
 in order to have a last look for him along the shore 
 in general, but were forbidden to look any more, by 
 the exigencies of the tempest. 
 
 The fact is, when the wind sets in on the Boulogne 
 beach, the sea at the entrance of the harbour is
 
 Lost, 253 
 
 more rough than at any other part of the passage, 
 because of the turbulent ground -swell, which would 
 not be much to a frigate or a 'Great Eastern/ but is 
 enough to make a small despatch-boat bounce about 
 at a great rate. Indeed, if we take into account the 
 proportion between such a little vessel and the 
 great one, we may justly assert that the little bark 
 is tossed more than the great ship ever is in the 
 ocean ; and thus those who go in small ships 
 through rough cross seas, know really more of what 
 "pitch and toss" is, than the stately admirals of 
 any imperial marine. 
 
 Therefore as to those who knew how " rough and 
 tumble " is the beginning of such a passage, and 
 who saw such distinguished-looking ladies waiting 
 to fall helplessly foul of the place, where, in a few 
 more revolutions of the paddles, the steamer would 
 leave the still water and suddenly plunge into the 
 tumult of billows ; such people as the steward and 
 others would naturally urge the ladies not to stay 
 where, amid all the rocking and rolling and pitch- 
 ing, their tender forms might be frightfully bandied 
 and banged about. The right course would be, to 
 hurry them, and almost bundle them, down to the 
 cabin and into their berths, before the steamer 
 came to lea'p into the surges. 
 
 So, Cyril's seeing them at all, might show, they 
 Kad been lingering, almost too long, as if they had 
 wished for a last look; nor would they, from the 
 water, think to stare particularly at the end of the 
 pier they were passing.
 
 2 54 Jessie o/ Boulogne, 
 
 As Cyril gazed, after the ladies and all had 
 descended, he saw the vessel pass forth from the 
 serener waters, into the furious swell of which we 
 speak, where it swayed and gurged and perked 
 about, but still went lithely on. 
 
 The cauldron of the waves, so raging and inco- 
 herent, now seemed no inapt image of his whirl- 
 wind-tost and agitated soul. 
 
 In a very short time, amid the mist and spray, 
 the steamer looked like a phantom, about to vanish 
 from sight. Cyril thought, " Thus is it that Jessie 
 wishes to fade from my view; my love for her 
 being my condemnation, so that she thinks the 
 sharpest course is the most appropriate, because 
 ''the otherwise incurable wound is to be cut out 
 with the steel.' " 
 
 The same tendency of a great grief, which drive, 
 its victim to inspect small accompanying troubles, 
 led Cyril to remark fixedly (though without much 
 noting) a large fishing-boat, which now came on 
 quickly with the wind astern, and seemed glad to 
 glide into the still harbour. The boat had several 
 fishermen and rough sailors on board, and among 
 them was a gentlemanly -looking person, who was 
 then divesting himself of some lent pilot-coating 
 and a sou'- wester, and to whom his hat was handed 
 up with a good deal of respect. There was some- 
 thing singular in both the person and the place; 
 the individual in fact was Teddy, but Cyril did not 
 recognize him, and looked away to the steamer, 
 which now seemed quite buried in the haze.
 
 Lost 255 
 
 To ease his mind^ Cyril felt he must go off and 
 make enquiries. 
 
 He went first to the hotel where the fire had 
 occurred. The fire (as he had heard someone say 
 last night) had been got under, the Boulogne fire 
 brigade being very effective. The mischief had 
 been chiefly confined to the stairs and passages, 
 down which it was thought some inflammable fluids 
 had been poured ; but only two rooms had been 
 burned out, and these two seemed to have been 
 the two whose doors he had opened, namely, Jessie's 
 room, and the chamber he had first entered. 
 
 Cyril had supposed he had only to enquire, to 
 know all he wanted, at the hotel. 
 
 But, on his trying to discover some particulars, he 
 soon saw, nothing was known about the ladies. 'He 
 did not know their name, and even when he men- 
 tioned the " lady who was saved from the burnt 
 room, and the other lady with the aigrette," no 
 one seemed to understand who was meant. Gettiner 
 excited and vexed, he described one lady rather 
 "older than the other, and the younger one un- 
 usually beautiful "; but this only appeared to provoke 
 a smile at his expense, and with a lover's usual sen- 
 sitiveness he fancied he should soon have the tragedy 
 of the " Misletoe Bough " accommodated to his case, 
 and that both now, and till he got greyheaded, 
 people would point at him, and say, " See, the old 
 man weeps for his fairy bride." 
 
 Determining however not to be baulked, he set 
 about discovering all he could; but he soon fonnl
 
 256 yesste of Boulogne. 
 
 that all persons and things about the hotel were in 
 complete confusion. Getting hold of one conse- 
 quential-looking person connected with the hotel, 
 he described the ladies ; whereon he was solemnly- 
 assured that " they came in only yesterday at mid- 
 day from Paris." 
 
 Cyril knew this to be untrue, as he himself had 
 met them previously ; perhaps indeed the man meant 
 somebody else who had thus come in, and whose 
 name he knew no more than did he (as he confessed) 
 know our ladies' names : nevertheless he had such a 
 swaggering air of being certain as to their identity^ 
 that Cyril had to rebuke the man for his presump- 
 tion, whereon he grew rather insolent : and all this 
 rather impeded Cyril's search. The fact seemed 
 really to be, that at such houses, large and small, so 
 many persons of all sorts came to sfcop for periods 
 long and short, nobody took much notice of any cus- 
 tomers, save those who had been some little time in 
 the establishment. Any new comers might easily 
 be overlooked or unknown, especially if they pre- 
 ferred, as many do, to be incog., and only used a 
 fictitious name. 
 
 If indeed Cyril had thought (which he did not) 
 about mentioning the man-servant, it is very 
 possible he would have electrified the people into 
 recognition of the ladies at once ; since one's groom 
 or valet in France is often more deferred to, than 
 Milord himself: it is the fact that a regular tip- 
 topping six-footer of a flunkey, in all the full bloom 
 of his regimental livery, is looked on with awe and
 
 Lost, 257 
 
 admiration, being in literal truth much handsomer 
 than any French officers. So this is a fair return 
 for the fact that the Anglophobiac French dukes 
 make their footmen wear cocked-hats, with the 
 cock's-feather bunch of white plumes, exactly like 
 our field-officers' ; and this is, no doubt, done by the 
 dukes on purpose ! In the French ''Charivari," and 
 in the " Petit Journal Pour Rire " by Nadar, which 
 are very poor and witless in comparison with our 
 "Punch " and "Fun," it is a standing quiz to make 
 the French sentinel salute the British footman, as if 
 the knee-plush-ultra lackey was a general officer in 
 all his glory. 
 
 Searching among the people of the hotel, who 
 seemed all of a fluster, Cyril got hold of another 
 person who seemed a little more veracious and reli- 
 able than the "Paris " fellow. This gargon rejoiced 
 in the name of Antoine, and he seemed to recognize 
 Cyril's description of the ladies ; but he, fairly 
 enough, premised, that there had been so many 
 persons coming and going, it was quite possible he 
 was leading him to mere "cross-purposes." Still, 
 Antoine said, if not mistaken as to their identity, he 
 felt sure the ladies about whom Cyril enquired, had 
 entered the hotel only yesterday. And then Cyril 
 remembered what had struck him in Jessie's room, 
 that all looked as if they had just moved in. His in- 
 formant added, that while thus what the other man 
 had stated, that they had only just arrived, was so 
 far quite correct ; the mistake was, in saying they 
 had come from Paris. " IS ow," says Antoine, " I hap- 
 
 VOL. I. 17
 
 258 - Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 pened to be by, when they first came ; and I heard 
 the taller lady mention to the proprietor, that they 
 had moved from some ' other house' in the town ' 
 {en ville) " But," says Cyril, " did you not hear their 
 name announced ? " " If I did," says Antoine, " I 
 have now lost all memory of it." 
 
 " Bid you then observe whether it was some other 
 hotel, they were said to have come from ? " 
 
 Antoine had no idea whatsoever, except that he 
 should suppose the phrase "other house" would 
 imply, not an actual hotel, but a lodging-house. 
 Cyril however judged for himself that if perhaps 
 the word " house " expressed this, nevertheless the 
 word " other " would rather tend to show some other 
 hotel was meant. At least the question was thrown 
 open as wide as all the hotels and lodging-houses of 
 Boulogne, which is almost as much as saying, every 
 house in the place ! " But, my good Antoine, did 
 you notice whether they came in a conveyance ? " 
 
 " That is what I cannot say, sir ; being indoors 
 at the time, I did not observe this: but I could 
 fancy that they had walked, which would not be 
 unlikely, if they had only moved from a few streets 
 off, or even from the upper town." 
 
 " Surely you have some idea who brought their 
 luggage?" 
 
 " No, indeed, sir ; I am sorry to say I have not : 
 whatever porters may have been employed, they 
 were not any of the people connected with our 
 hotel : they must have been some persons of their 
 own, or engaged by them."
 
 Lost. 
 
 259 
 
 " But," said Cyril, eageriy, *' as to those men, you 
 would know them again if you saw them ? " 
 
 To which Antoine makes the hopeless response, 
 " I could not, sir ; I did not think of noticing them, 
 nor even whether there was more than one : not 
 supposing there was any speciality in the matter." 
 
 " So, you have no conception what part of the 
 town they came from ; nor can you throw any light 
 on who the ladies were, or why they left their 
 previous abode, or anything at all about them ?" 
 
 Saying this, Cyril took out a gold twenty-franc 
 piece, and also a gold five-franc piece, and kept finger- 
 ing the coins in his hands, as if he were considering, 
 which of the two, the smaller or the greater,^ he 
 would give to the man he was interrogating. 
 
 Under the high pressure of this seductive in- 
 fluence, Antoine's recollections seemed to become 
 illuminated, and he cried out with a superb grimace, 
 "0, 1 now remember, that when the lady" (the aunt) 
 "arrived, and made that remark about having moved 
 from some other house in the town, she said at the 
 same time, that she ' probably was only to stay for a 
 day or two,' but that she had been 'so unfairly used 
 and imposed on, where she had been, she would not 
 remain there one hour more, however brief her 
 stay in the town might be/ " 
 
 This last item of testimony struck Cyril as pos- 
 sessing some verisimilitude ; indeed it sounded very 
 explanatory. Inspired by the feeling that Antoine 
 was both communicative and truthful, Cyril said, 
 " Can you not now think what the lady's name was ?"
 
 26o Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 " 1^0, sir." 
 
 And then, rather heedlessly, but more as if talk- 
 ing to himself, Cyril asked, " Was it Edwards 
 
 ?" 
 
 To which Antoine, with theatrically assumed 
 triumph, replied, " O, yes, sir ; that was it ! " 
 
 Cyril at once felt that this was untrue, and that 
 the man could not resist the lust for ornamentation 
 and fibbing, which is the badge of all his tribe. 
 Cyril saw that he could get no more genuine in- 
 formation out of the man, and that any imaginable 
 clue to the lady's name was now irrecoverably 
 swamped out of the man's memory, and totally ex- 
 punged by the unlucky suggestion, ^'Edwards." 
 Still, as it was through Antoine that Cjn^il had got 
 hold of the only little " needle " he had been able to 
 find among the " bundle of straw," Cyril gave him 
 as his gift the larger coin, which perhaps was an 
 incautious act, since it might have made him invent 
 all sorts of extra tales ; however, as it was, all the 
 efiect of the donation on Antoine was to extract 
 from him sundry elegant genuflexions, and to make 
 his eyes glisten and his beard waggle with sincere 
 and unalloyed delight. 
 
 The other information which Cyril picked up 
 from one and another, was to the effect that all 
 the thorough confusion which reigned in the hotel 
 was caused by the circumstance that immediately 
 after the fire had been extinguished, the master of 
 the hotel was accused of having himself originated 
 the abortive conflagration, in order to reap some 
 great benefit from the insurances. And certainly.
 
 Lost, 261 
 
 as the story went, there were some strange arrange- 
 ments of strong-smelling paraffin and turpentine 
 and other combustibles discovered, more than enough 
 suspicious in appearance to favor the ugly rumor. 
 Whether or no the master of the hotel had been so 
 iniquitous, was not known ; but either through con- 
 scious guilt, or mere fear, or prudence, he had at 
 once fled, and had got clear off, with all his money, 
 books, papers, and so forth. Hence, all order and 
 authority having collapsed, there was a general 
 scatteration of the people of the house ; and those 
 who remained after the scramble, were either too 
 alarmed, or too selfish, or perhaps too justifiably 
 anxious about their own interests and prospects, to 
 pay much attention to other people's concerns,* and 
 least of all to a young man's longings after name- 
 less ladies who had gone away. 
 
 The master of the house who had thus decamped, 
 nobody knew whither, was the only individual who 
 could have thrown any positive light on any re- 
 condite particulars or fresh names, of new and 
 strange or forgotten people. The man had been 
 very active, and the soul of all in the house ; he 
 was his own plenipotentiary, his own factotum, his 
 own All everywhere and everything, and especially 
 his own bookkeeper : nobody on the premises was 
 supposed really to know anything, except himself. 
 We all are aware how when such a mental Argus 
 and Hercules of business, is suddenly removed 
 or laid aside, by death, insanity, paralysis, or other- 
 wise, everybody seems ignorant of everything, and
 
 262 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 nobody " knows nothing," as if the only intellectual 
 timepiece of the place had stopped, leaving the 
 residue of people as if all a mere lot of gaping idiots, 
 blank, shiftless, and aghast. The man in question 
 was believed to carry his money, in large amount, 
 always about his person; and his registers and 
 accounts, which he kept himself, were neat and 
 compact, and always in apple-pie order. However, 
 he was gone ; and the books were gone too, either 
 destroyed or taken with him. 
 
 Here then, Cyril, who had made no researches 
 before, was at once brought to a full stop, when he 
 began to try to discover who the ladies were. It 
 was evident to him, that, in the hotel, out of which 
 they had been driven by the fire, no one now could 
 be produced who knew anything more concerning 
 the ladies, either as regards their name, or where 
 they came from. After he had digested the matter 
 well, he felt, it wa8 a true item, that they had 
 moved in, only yesterday, from some other location 
 in the town. Probably their removal had taken 
 place, after he had lost sight of them at the bridge ; 
 and so they had been busy about it, during some 
 of the time that he had been fruitlessly looking for 
 them : and the consequent weariness or " bother " 
 had kept them at home all the rest of the afternoon, 
 so that he did not see them. 
 
 " Yes," said he, " this fact is the only one I have, 
 that they moved yesterday to the hotel. And what 
 can I make of this ? How can I trace them ? 
 Shall I 2.0 round to all the multitudes of hotels
 
 Lost. 263 
 
 and lodging-houses in Boulogne and the vicinity, 
 to enquire whether ladies have lately been living 
 there, whose names I do not know ? " 
 
 It struck Cyril that the most probable result 
 would be, for him at best to stumble on some 
 " party " a little like those for whom he was search- 
 ing, and not the same ; and so he should merely be 
 led away on no end of false scents. Besides, if they 
 had departed from their previous residence because 
 of some extortion and a quarrel, the conscious 
 culprit of a landlady would be sure not to volunteer 
 to him, a stranger, any information .whatsoever. 
 And yet, Cyril thought, something might be done, 
 in that very way, afterwards ; for, between bribing 
 and wheedling and threatening, he might guide 
 himself to the right clue : nor should he thinks any 
 toil too great, if he could only compass his object, 
 and he would address himself to it, whether success- 
 ful or not. 
 
 Now however there are researches, which musfc at 
 least be prosecuted first. Of course the earliest field 
 for investigation must be at the house to which he 
 himself had carried Jessie. He easily found it ; but 
 the circumstances were equally unenlightening. It 
 seems, the owner, or rather the tenant, a drunken 
 Englishman, had got into pecuniary difiiculties, and 
 his " effects " were to be '' submitted to the hammer " 
 on the very next day after the fire. Though this 
 disaster of being sold-up, was impending over him, 
 still his old touter, a man whom he had fee'd for 
 each person enticed to the place, sought for victims
 
 264 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 to the last ; this was either from habit, or from his 
 wanting some grist, and being low in cash : so he 
 had made out, to the aunt, that a house " so near " 
 was the best : and she in her distress said " Yes, ' 
 without thinking. But the drunken master was 
 impudent to the ladies, and he used the last rem- 
 nants of his authority to tell them, as if to indulge 
 his Satanic spitefulness, that he " did not want them, 
 and that they must pack out;" with other insolence: 
 for which the man-servant knocked him down 
 handsomely. And then, the place being unbearable, 
 permission was obtained (probably by a large 
 douceur) from some of the packet people, to let 
 the ladies move at once into the steamer which was 
 to start at eleven next morning. Accordingly the 
 ladies went straight from the abominable house, to 
 the vessel, about one o'clock at night, and slept com- 
 fortably on board. Hence, at the house, there was 
 no one who knew their name, nor was there anybody 
 who cared about aught but self; sauce and sale 
 reigned supreme : nor would any message have been 
 left for him by the ladies, at such an execrable abode. 
 Thus there had been enough cause for the ladies 
 to move out as expeditiously as they did, because of 
 the tenemental discomforts ; even thouQ^h thev miorht 
 not be afraid of their baggage being seized, in such 
 a den of the spoilers. For, among the few things (!) 
 of which I am ignorant, one is, whether the same 
 vile rule is in force, in France or anywhere else^ 
 which is one of the many disgraces of the giant 
 system of injustice called English "law," allowing a
 
 Lost. 265 
 
 landlord, who comes down upon a lodging-house 
 keeper for rent, to impound the lodgers' trunks and 
 plate ; a more cruel piece of " feudal " robbery and 
 oppression cannot be conceived. It is, also, I confess, 
 one among my very few (!) obliquities, to avoid all 
 attorneys and conveyancers and proctors and lawyers 
 of all sorts and sizes ; hence I have never cultivated 
 the acquaintance of foreign notaries or " continental 
 jurists," any more than of home solicitors, or coun- 
 sellors or barristers [except one], or sergeants or 
 judges, in silk or stuff, in ermine or not, in coifs or 
 horsehair, and with or without wigs : I have the bad 
 taste to loathe the fraternity, as the hired harpies of 
 injustice. There really is nothing which a vicious 
 person "svith the command of money, may not do 
 against another person however innocent, by talking 
 advantage of the machinery of " law." Such is law. 
 Thus I stand aloof from lawyers. Therefore I am 
 under the merited disadvantage of not being able to 
 ask or say whether the French landlord could have 
 grabbed the ladies' luggage ; probably he could not : 
 since, surely, such cruelt}^ mast belong alone to 
 English jurisprudence, where there is law without 
 equity, and equity without justice, and where the 
 only principle is, to plunder right and left, 6s. 8cZ. 
 for ever ! 
 
 Still, even if it was not feared that the French 
 landlord could swoop on the goods of unoffending 
 lodgers ; there were abundant reasons for the ladies 
 flitting into the steamer, and going at once, as they 
 meant to go.
 
 266 Jessie of Boulogne, 
 
 Cyril looked about for the touter fellow, whom he 
 had seen last night, but of whom he had a very 
 imperfect remembrance ; him however he could see 
 nothing of : yet Cyril felt he must catch the rascal 
 somehow or other, all in good time, in order to try 
 to extract some information out of him. 
 
 Although he felt it was useless to see the drunken 
 master, who of course knew nothing ; still, to satisfy 
 his own feeling of making every quest, Cyril dis- 
 covered him by dint of searching. He was drinking 
 in another house, and his beauty was not enhanced 
 by a black eye ; Cyril tried to conciliate him, but 
 when he asked him if he knew who the ladies were 
 who stopped so short a time, the wretch flew in a 
 rage, and with disgusting oaths bellowed, " I don't 
 know, curse you, you beggar 1 " and so on. 
 
 Cyril was of course not in the least angered at 
 such a creature's vituperation ; he chiefly had a 
 sickening sensation how sad it is that so many 
 specimens of our countrymen in all parts of the 
 world are no better than this sottish and cursing 
 scamp. Cyril felt much as one may do in reading 
 Byron's ghastly joke, when he says the Thames has 
 quite a Niagara roar of rushing water, only you 
 cannot hear it, because the din of the river is lost in 
 the millions of Goddams, which are uttered by the 
 Londoners on both banks ! A joke of this sort is 
 only worthy to be among the pleasantries of such 
 a nice pair as Milton's Sin and Death ; and a com- 
 panion jest, to make them grin horrible a ghastl}^ 
 smile, might be Sydney Smith's description of a
 
 Lost. 267 
 
 day being so hot that he should like to sit in his 
 bones. Such jests are no more amusing than an 
 inebriated scoundrel's maledictions ; they make one 
 almost ashamed of one's species. 
 
 Such beings as this drunken man, who are always 
 taking God's name in vain, seem almost the only 
 people on earth who do not believe in a God. Even 
 the Australian and Tasmanian aborigines have some 
 notion of a deity. I observe also in Townsend's 
 " Sporting Excursions in the Rocky Mountains and 
 to the Columbia Kiver " (1840), it is stated, " In this, 
 as in almost every house, there is a large figure, or 
 idol, rudely carved and painted upon a board, and 
 occupying a conspicuous place. To this figure many 
 of the Indians ascribe supernatural powers ; (a 
 native) says, that if he is in any danger, and par- 
 ticularly if he is under the influence of an evil spell, 
 he has only to place himself against the image, and 
 the difficulty of whatever kind vanishes at once. 
 This certainly savors of idolatry, although I believe 
 they never address the uncouth figure as a deity. 
 Like all other Indians, they acknowledge a great 
 and invisible Spirit, who governs and controls, and 
 to whom all adoration is due." Surely, such poor 
 savages, amid all their disadvantages, are more 
 enlightened than the atheistic '* Christian " Englisli- 
 man, who goes to another land, to drink and to sot, 
 to swear and to rot, and to curse God and die. 
 
 But to return to Jessie ! it would not be easy to 
 depict how varied were the emotions which had 
 pervaded her gentle breast, since the time when
 
 268 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 Cyril had given her, out of his arms, into the hands 
 of her agitated friends, while she herself was sobbing 
 too acutely to speak. When she grew more com- 
 posed, her regret was that he was gone, rather 
 than that she had not somehow suitably thanked 
 the dear and " gallant friend " who had saved her 
 life. And her fond remembrance of him was even 
 heightened by the small but gratifying circumstance 
 of all her clothes and trinkets being safe, in the 
 tied-up shawl ; yes, all of them, with her shoes, her 
 gloves, and her own darling little church-service, 
 which she had possessed from a child. 
 
 " How kind and wise of him, at such a time, to 
 think of such a thing, for me ! " this was the dulcet 
 thought that gushed through her tender heart. 
 
 Short however was the season of repose she had 
 at the diso^raceful Englishman's house : and instead 
 of going to rest, she had to dress and hurry across 
 to the steam-packet, through the deep midnight, 
 the wind now becoming boisterous, and ominous 
 of a rough sea on the morrow. She must never- 
 theless go on that to-morrow morning, to England, 
 however turbulent the weather might be ; because, 
 there was an imperative summons for them to 
 " come, without a moment's delay 1 " and the only 
 fear was whether they might not be already too late, 
 in a matter which was serious and urgent enough to 
 be equal to one " of life and death." 
 
 And, in such a precipitate departure, Jessie feared 
 much whether she might not miss him whom she 
 loved. She was at first aghast at the probability of
 
 Lost, 2tg 
 
 this ! But then she soon felt certain, with a raptu- 
 rous consciousness, that he loved her ; and therefore 
 she assured herself that his love for her would make 
 him seek her, yes, early, and surely find her. So, 
 she must think of every expedient, every precaution, 
 to obviate if possible the dreaded mischance. 
 
 There was in our sweet little Jessie a thouofhtful- 
 ness or wisdom beyond her years. Her attributes 
 were, taste, order, neatness, and regularity ; and in 
 some respects she was as methodical " as an old 
 maid : " though indeed I doubt the aptness of the 
 common simile, since old bachelors and literary old 
 maids are more often littery and untidy than natty 
 or precise. 
 
 But Jessie's most gracious characteristic was, lier 
 gentleness, her disregard of self, her ingenuous re- 
 gard for others. This endeared her to everyone she 
 met, and attached all hearts to her, not only in the 
 case of old family retainers, but also of the servants 
 where she might chance to lodge, or the stewardess 
 of a packet in which she might happen to sail, even 
 when it was unknown who she was. The eye could 
 not see her, without blessing her. No one, however 
 humble, could come near her, and gain any insight 
 into what she was, herself, without being charmed 
 and chained by her winning ways. Like as she 
 was constantly singing, and trilling some graceful 
 air ; so also there seemed to be a bright hymn of 
 cheerfulness and joy, which radiated from her, to all 
 hearts around : rich with contentedness and bliss 
 and love.
 
 270 Jessie of Boulogne. 
 
 When thus there is love in the heart, and love in 
 the life, this " love " is an actual wellspring of de- 
 lights, not only to the loving one, but also to all 
 who are within reach. What scene, short (if short ?) 
 of the very angels of Heaven, can equal the beauty 
 and attractiveness of such a young Christian girl, 
 artless and amiable, graceful and genial, the triumph 
 of LOVE, yes, loving and beloved ! 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
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