m r m MEA\Q I Geor^:.e Davidson 1^2^-1 311 U^ I ^ BEHIND THE SCENES. BY Lx\DY BULAVER LYTTON. AUTHOK OF "CHEVELEY," "SCHOOL FOB HUSBANDS," ETC. " Providence is dark in its permissions ; yet one day wlien all is known, The universe of Keason shall acknowledge how just and good were they." Tu2yper''s Proverbial Philosophy. " All who have treated of divine subjects, whether Greeks or barbarians, indus- triously involved the beginnings of things, and delivered the truth in enigmas, signs, and symbols ; in allegories, and metaphors, and other such figures." Clement of Alexandria^ Strom. L. v., p. 658, Ox. Ed. THREE VOLUMES IN ONE. NEW YORK: KIKER, THORNE & CO., 129 FULTON STREET. M.DCOO.LIV. ^CT^i- H (J JOHN F. TROW, PiiiNTEK, 49 Ann-street \ q q y i./. -^1 V DfMfation. TO TIIE ORExVT— AND WILL BE GREATER — AMERICAN NATION; WHO ALL, IN "GOING AHEAD" IN THE MIGHTY RACE OF SOCIAL, MORAL, SCIENTIFIC, LITERARY, POLITICAL, AND ARTISTIC EMULATION, NEVER FORGET THAT A SOUND HEART THE BEST SCREW PROPELLER THAT THE VAST ENGINE OF PROGRESSION CAN HAVE, TUIS VOLUME IS DEDICATED BY TIIEIR FRIEND AND ADMIRER, THE AUTIIOPw. M,li77810 The original iutentiou of the Authoress was merely to have appeared as the Editor of this work, hut circumstances have occurred during its progress through the press, which render the acknowledgment of the authorship desirable. PRELIMINARY ADDRESS. TO ALL WHO SUFFER. I ADDEESS these remarks to you, fellow-sufferers, because everj- thing in these days, is " Foe the Million ! " But as all works of apparent supererogation require, if not an apology, at least an explanation, I must say a few words that may serve for the lat- ter ; for, truly, at an epoch when the very gravitation of the world seems endangered by the chaotic masses under which every printing-press groans, anything in the shape of an addi- tional atom, laid on the tottering heap, may be well calculated to create alai*m; besides "How presumptuous ! " some will exclaim — "Lay Sermons, indeed ! as if there were not already a superabun- dance of proper, orthodox, clerical sermons both preached, and published, without the world being inundated with any amateur trash ! " True, most true, my dear sir, or madam ; and so com- pletely did I agree with you, in this view of the case, that most assuredly these humble pages would never have seen the light in a printed form, had it not been for the following circumstances. Often have I heard it remarked, with regret, by those "who labour and arc heavy laden," both in coming out of the lowly porch of the village fane, and on leaving the more gorgeous aisles of some medio3val cathedral, tliat the text had not been more expounded, and less often repeated ; and this remark more par- 6 PRELIMINARY ADDRESS. ticularly struck me coming from the lips of good mistress Amy Yerner, the landlady of a little road-side Highland inn, and at one and the same time, the Sir Oracle, as well as the Lady Boun- tiful of that ilk, as she and I were one Sabbath leaving the village church together. It was evident something had displeased her, either in or before the afternoon-service, though most proba- bly the former ; for albeit Archdeacon Panmuir was no favourite of hers, although an excellent customer in a spirituous point of view, and first cousin to The Panmuir, the Laird of Glenfern. " Good day, Mrs. Verner," said I. But no answer did the worthy lady vouchsafe, but kept nervously twitching her fingers, and muttering to herself — "Eh, weel, praching is ane thing and practising is anither; ond then to thank o'him dinning ento us, as ef we waur a pack o' heathens just ; that we were to believe in the Laird Jesus Christ; av coorse we believe in him, at least we profess to do so ; or we should na' coom to a Christian kirk. Sammy Panmuir : much better tell us hoo to prove oor blief, as oor blessed Laird did him- sel, wi' parables and the like, which were human stories of human deeds, braught hame to human understandings, and not ding-dang at the taxt, which we can a' speer oot for oursels, in oor ain Bibles, at hame. 'Wait on the Laird,' indeed! nae fear but yer just the lad that wad wait on the Laird fast enoo gin ye thought he had a better living in his gift to gi' ye, Sammy Panmuir! " The latter part of this speech was in allusion to the text, which had been from Isaiah xi. 31 — " They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength ; they shall mount up with wings as eagles : they shall run, and not be weary ; they shall walk, and not faint." "Hoot! Maister Alciphron, yer the vary chiel that cud do it," added she, turning quickly round upon me. "Do what, my good Mrs. Verner?" PRELIMINARY ADDRESS. 7 "Why just prent a few bit parables to pit a' these prachings into practice. Eh ! if it waur ainly tlie awfu' tragedy of the piiir young laird, just." "i»ray," rejoined I, as I shook my head with a melancholy smile. "For that matter, the printing would not come any nearer to the practice, than the preaching." " Eh, weel, ye ken vara weel what I mean : yeVe Mn a' the warld over ; yeVe sipt sorrow oot of avry ane's cup, and can aye feel for they that ha' the draining o' those bitter cups ; nae griefs sae strange, but what ye ken a fellow to it ; nae heart sae dark, but what ye ha' a gleam of the true light to cheer it wi'. The world's a wide field that death is ever mowing ; but the harvest thereof is God's for a' that — though the deil does get the tares ; and ye ha' nae gleaned in thot field for sae mony weary years without the Laird helping you to bind up yer load ; sae, noo that the evening is come, ye maun just write a few parables shewing forth the gudeness o' God, to pit a little heart into those that have still to toil through the heat o' the day — it wad do mair good than a' Sammy Panmuir's flings at the Papists, which he must have ; waur he preaching about Persians or potatoes, he cud na' get on, without a spar at the Pope ! " " ' If they hear not ^oses and the prophets, neither will they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead,' " said I, " and if either precept or example could mend the world, it had been made whole long ere this. ' Paul may plant and ApoUos water, but God alone giveth the increase.' So we can only conclude that the time is not yet come, for either precept or example to bear fruit ; what presumption therefore would it be in me to imagine that breath of mine could do anything towards ripening those precious fruits." " Hoot ! hoot, mon ! ye ken those giant oak'es that grow out of the slate quarry by the mountain side ; and the bright, fresh, TRELIMINARY ADDRESS. bonnie wild flowers that seem to wave and laugli like wee things of bairns round their roots, a' cold and barren though the soil be ? TVeel, it was nae mortal hand that planted them, but the puir birds o' the air, just, who as they flew to their rest, dropped the precious seeds they carried in their mouths by chance ! But mind ye ; the chances of the creatures of one generation, are the char- ters of the Creator to future ages ; and think ye, Maister Alci- phron, that the birds of the air have a higher mission to do God's work than you have ? or that the good seed dropped from your mouth, however casually, or however barren and arid the soil may be whereon it happens to fall, will be less fostered by God, or less smiled on by His angels ? * Besides, it isfacs (facts) we want, for it is/«cs that does the good; and when I ha' seen as I ha' done, within the last sax months, the wounds ye have healed by a word in due season, Effie Cameron, Jenny M'Cleod, Meggie Armstrong, and me, will let ye hae nae peace, till ye prent the facs we have heerd ye tell." I confess that good Dame Yerner's simile of the sturdy oaks growing in Herculean strength and almost fabulous luxuriance out of the sterile quarry, while sweet, ever-springing flowers, like happy thoughts and gentle emotions, twined around their strength, had more to do with inducing me to cast my humble offering into Nature's universal lap, than even the combined terrors of the Ef- fie, Jenny, and Meggie triumvirate, who, sooth to say, were not calculated to endanger any man's peace ; unless, indeed, it were after the fashion in which the weird sisters jeopardized that of Macbeth. Moreover, I reflected that had the birds of the air pos- sessed the reasoning powers of human beings, and with these their concomitant vanity and ambition, they would have held tight * " There is a pretty, pious, and poetical superstition in many mountainous districts of Scotland and Ireland, that -n'herever -wild flowers abound in a stone or slate quarry, the angels have smiled in passing over the desolate waste, which has in- stantly blushed into flowers, beneath their celestial notice." preliminahy address. 9 their little germ of future power, and never have condescended to drop it into barren quarries and unfrequented by-ways, not being satisfied unless they had a proper field for their labours, and could plant forests ! parks ! gardens ! and all the broad highw^ays and thoroughfares of the world. Thanks, little rooks and ravens, for teaching me a great lesson — namely, that each separate unit of this concrete world should labour in its vocation, only where, when, and how the Creator pleaseth ; to attempt more is rebel- lion — to do less is disobedience. " Well, well, Mrs. Verner," said I, as I closed the little gate of the churchyard behind us, we being the last, owing to our pro- tracted conversation — " I'll consider of it. And now, how about your poor invalid — is he better ? " " Better ! ah, weel, yes — mickle better I ween than Sammy Panmuir, though he be ca'd a Christian, and 'tither a Jew." " Do you think he would see me ?— unless," added I, " it may interfere with the Archdeacon's visit ? " " Hoot ! it's little ye ken of Sammy Panmuir ; if ye think he'd spatter his phariseeical pride by ganging to see a sick Jew ! Nae, nae, he leaves that to Publicans" — " And sinners," I chimed in, as I followed Mrs. Verner into her dominions — the bar of the "Panmuir Arms;" and some "/rtcs " that there came to my knowledge, determined me upon what that worthy woman called '-'■ Prenting my Parables; " or in other words, publishing the following LAY SERMONS, all of which have but one text — " Do TJNTO OTHERS AS YOU WOULD THEY SHOULD DO UNTO YOU." PREFACE. To bore the reader with a Preface is, perhaps, of all an author's faults, the one he is least inclined to pardon ; but among the many twaddles of our times there is one very rife (more, it is true, among reviewers, than among the general class of readers emphatically called, " The Public "), and this one consists in asking, " Why won't people write novels in one volume, like ' The Vicar of AVakefield ? ' " Simply because each succeeding age has its own peculiar tone and inflection, of which writers are but the echoes, and therefore they cannot choose but echo them correctly. Life in Goldsmith's day, was much less hurried, and, above all, much less filled up, not to say closely packed, than it is now ; and even the Primrose family, had they been created in these \iays, and located in Cornwall itself, or even at Lancast ! — where local traditions aver that the devil caught cold and died ! (which, if true, would have considerably abridged his memoirs) — still, Deborah herself would have been different, for she would have taken in "Eliza Cook's Journal," and so deserted pickles for poetry. As for the Vicar, dear, good, Christian soul that he was, he would have been such a fish out of water, that I doubt if he could have existed ' at all in these high-pressure times. 12 PREFACE. The girls, indeed, from being (as all girls are) more adaptive, might have got on very well ; only instead of " flouiishing upon catgut," they would have flourished upon paper. George, though he might have deserted Miss Wilmot, would at least have had the prudence not to lose sight of her strong box. Burchell, instead of frittering away his energies in whistles and gingerbread for the children, would have devoted himself to the world at large, either by concocting or subverting dynasties. The town ladies — but more especially Miss Carolina Whilhel- mina Amelia Skeggs — instead of talking " taste, Shakspeare, and the musical glasses," would have ivritten upon table-turn- ing, sonnambulism, and the mesmeric asses ! The seven Miss Flamboroughs would at lcastha.ye been drawn with seven pine- apples, instead of seven oranges, in their hands. Dick, instead of getting a lump of sugar for speaking first, would have repudi- ated sugar altogether, from the innate conviction that its sac- charine properties are injurious to the gastric juices. Moses, in- stead of buying grosses of green spectacles at English fairs, would have given his great commercial talents a wider scope, by going on a foreign tour with those distinguished travellers, " Brown, Jones, and Robinson." And, though last not least, Squire Thornhill, instead of playing the French horn at his uncle's side-table, would have played first fiddle — by making his profligacy cosmopolitan, and writing moral essays for " The Edinburgh," and utihtarian articles for "The Westminster," relieved by occasional educational and philanthropic harangues at Mechanics' Institutes, till Provincial Mammas and Misses (bless their innocent hearts, and ignorant heads !) would have deemed him a model Moralist ! " But population having greatly increased — as the aforesaid PREFACE. I Westminster scholar and Miss Martineau can inform you, — an the said population all going at railway speed, is one cause which has swelled the bulk of novels (for Richardson is the ex- ception that proves the rule, he being the only old romancer that ever laboured under that fearful malad}-, hterary elej^hantiasis !) ; for, with the multitudinous Dramatis Personas which a trans- cript of modern hfe entails, it is impossible to be graphic within a very restricted compass. The most masterly fictions in the language are Daniel De Foe's ; and win' is this ? Not, certain- ly, even from their unrivalled English and incomparable style, but from their being so graphic as to make it almost impossible to believe that they are not only reahties, but realities scrupu- lously and minutely noted ; for, as the great Lord Chatham, be- fore he discovered De Foe's " Memoirs of a Cavaher, during the Civil "Wars in England," to be a fiction, used to cite it as the best account of the Civil Wars extant ; so the world at large believed " Robinson Crusoe " to be a veritable history. Having evoked this great name, I cannot express my own feelings better (more especially in I'egard to the fate of this work) than in this " second Daniel's " own terse and energetic words — " I am a Stoic," says he, and say I, " In whatever may be the event of things, I'll do and say what I think is a debt to justice and truth, without the least regard to clamour and reproach ; and as I am utterly unconcerned at human opinion, the people who throw away their breath so freely in censuring me, may con- sider of some better use to make of their passions, than to waste them on a person that is both above and- below the reach of them. I know too much of the world to expect good in it ; and I have learned to value it too little to be concerned at the evil. I have gone through a life of wonders, and am the subject 14 PREFACE. of a vast variety of providences; I have been fed more by miracle than Elijah, when the ravens were his purveyors ; and in the school of affliction I have learnt more philosophy than at the academy, and more divinity than from the pulpit." With reference to the Dramatis Personse of these Lay Ser- " mons, I refer all readers to " Gil Bias ' " author's dedication, which is mine — only Le Sage got hold of it first ! — and au sage un demi mot ! Alciphron. London, 1854. BEHIND THE SCENES. PARABLE THE FIRST. SECTION I. C^e |to miiJ tlje Gentile. " "Who can understaud his errors ? "—Psalm xix. 12. " The more honest a man is, the less he affects the air of a saint. The affectation of sanctity is a blot on the face of piety."— La vatee. As there is nothing higher, broader, and, at the same time, more profound, than Christianity ; so is there nothing lower, shallower, and narrower than sectarianism : while the former, emanating from God, approaches us to Him, the latter drags us ever earthward, into that fearful abyss of stubborn pride, relentless cruelty, remorseless ambition, and Janus-faced treach- ery, gloating avarice, complex intrigue, and petrifying selfish- ness; under which pestilential influences the world has become hoary with vice, and w^rinkled with sin. But let me not be misunderstood: by sectarianism, I do not mean solely that which appertains to the doctrinal opinions either of the Phari- saical nigh Church, or the Puritanical Low Churchman, nor of the thousand ites, Jlights, is77is, and schisms, branching therefrom ; for of this conscience, coinage of men's hearts, as God giveth the stamp, so lie alone can warrant the issue. No ; 16 BEHIND THE SCENES. I speak of a secular sectarianism, to "which every soul amongst us is more or less addicted ; a setting up and worshipping of false — yea, verily ! most false — gods ! which has made social idolatry universal. Who can deny that they are, to a certain extent, the slave of some particular 2Dassion, each of which pas- sions, when allowed to have dominion over us, becomes an idol ? With one, it is pride, with another, sloth, or anger, avarice, ambition, lust, covetousness, intemperance, lying, envy, hatred, or revenge ; but to each and all of these, there are but two great High Priests, Mammon, and his elder brother. Self- ishness. It is true, that these idols are never worshipped under these ugly names. No ; they have all to be gracefully draped and brightly gilt before they are bowled down to ; therefore is it, that the miser, abounding in gold, but lacking all things else, calls his pet vice prudence ! The coward boasts of his peaceful disposition ! — the slothful man of his content ! the spendthrift of his generosity ! the wine-bibber of his social- ity and good fellowship ! — and he whose " vaulting ambition o'erleaps itself," of his indomitable courage and perseverance ! Thus, all these ugly vices go masquerading through the world ill the costume of the virtues, and as long as they take care not to drop their masks, few are so ill-bred as to question their identity ; for, the fear of reprisals is the safety-valve of our so- cial system ; and not throwing stones when we ourselves live in glass houses, is the Brummagem article -we display for Christian charity ! And so it will ever be, as long as each of us have a sect or dominant pavssion of our own, accompanied, as it invari- ably is, by the most bigoted intolerance against our neighbour's sect, or ruling passion. It is truly and tersely remarked, in a charming little book, called " Friends in Council," abounding, as a w^riter in the Leader aptly expresses it, in many " an essay in an ejDigram," — that " it takes away much of the savour of life, to live amongst those with whom one has not anything like one's fair value. It may not be mortified vanity, but unsatis- fied sympathy, which causes this discomfort." True, most true ; BEHIXD THE SCENES. 1*7 for, altlioiigli the world, more especially in the present day, abounds with philanthropy and benevolence, it is a melancholy fact, that every day symiKithy seems on the decrease. A phre- nologist would account for this, on the principle of the duality of the brain, and would tell us that there are many persons who have abundant benevolence, who yet have not an atom of sym- pathy ; true, again, and yet how often are they confounded, and, for that reason, many may ask in what consists their difference? It consists in a very wide one, that of saying and doing. Be- nevolence is passive, sympathy active; benevolence pities, but sympathy helps ; benevolence professes to feel for those who suffer "in mind, body, or estate;" but sympathy feels with them ; and such being the case, puts its shoulder to the wheel of its neighbour's foundered load, and struggles bravely to ex- tricate it. Sympathy, in short, is practical Christianity ; and benevolence, theoretical piety. Sympathy is the wayfaring Samaritan, who, though a stranger, and unknown, does not pass over on the other side, but pours oil and wine into our wounds, and ministers to our necessities. Benevolence is the self-right- eous Pharisee, ever boasting of the good it has done, and the evil it has left undone. And as all qualities descend from one generation to another — in tribes or races — it is for this reason that relatives or friends may be benevolent^ and compassionate our misfortunes, as far as ivords go ; or even abound in works of supererogation — such as offering our indolence a seventh carriage, if we already possess six ; but should we be penniless, and chance to break our leg, and the sixpence has to be sought that would purchase a crutch to support us, then, verily, is it from the Samaritan stranger that we must seek it. But, per- haps, there may be, in this still crude stage of the world's pro- gression, a higher and deeper cause for the want of sympathy that is to be found among human beings for each other ; for it may be part of the miracle and the mystery that is veiled in the Holy of Holies of every heart, hovering on spirits' wings between the Creator that afflicts, and the creature that is af- 18 BEHIND THE SCENES. flicted — to prove to them that there is no real sympathy to be hoped for, or found, save from tlie ONE source from whence all flows, and to which all is known ; it may be at once to re- prove, and to reassure the vacillating faith of our tempest-tossed souls ; as erst the Saviour did on the sea of Tiberias, that of the trembling disciples. A guarantee, in short, now, as then, that He is the7'e, and will save us iii, if not always from, the storm. How many daily and hourly proofs have we of this in our internal world, the chronology of which is more rapid, the events more stimng, the dramas more thrilling, the mysteries more sublime, the revolutions more frequent, and the progres- sion more imjoortant, than any of its faint foreshadowings, which men are wont to misnomer facts, in the external and material world, which is but the husk of the spiritual creation ; for it is of the souVs records that Heaven's archives are com- posed. It is truly remarked, by the Reverend E. 1). Rendell, in his admirable work on Antediluvian History : "How many things there are belonging to our nature, wdiich actually exist a long time before we become properly aware of them ! The internal man exists, and we may have this fact declared to us by infallible authority ; still we have no right perception of its truth until we begin a course of interior thinking. By this, man attains the evidence of its existence,, and then believes." And it is a question whether this course of interior thinking ever would begin in many of us, but for affliction, which is the whetstone of all the soul's blunted intelligences; for, by in- terior thinking, is meant self-examination, with a view to ac- quiring self-knowledge, and must not be confounded with those mere intellectual exhalations, of which even the lowest moral natures are capable, and which have often no more to do with the construction of our higher and spiritual intelligence, than have the vapours that rise from the ocean to do with the great world of waters, beyond a throwing off of its w^orser and more evanescent particles. But of the truth of the above remark, of there being many things belonging to our nature which actually BEHIND THE SCENES. 19 exist a long time h'efore we become pro2')erly aware of them, we have physical, as well as moral demonstration ; for, have we not (though perfectly useless to us there) the germ of all our faculties, passions, and feelings in our mother's Avomb ? and may it not be, that the very highest intellectual pre-eminence that the efforts or ambition of ifian can attain to in this life, may be compared with the perfection he is destined to arrive at in a future and eternal state, quite as embryo and undeveloped as were the elementary and component attributes of his nature prior to his terrestrial birth ? And oh ! may it not also be the comparatively narrow confines of its 2)resent sphere, that occa- sions all the throes, struggles and chafings of the future great and emancipated spirit; and causes it to consider the said throes, struggles, and chafings, as so many trials, afifiictions, and even unjust persecutions, for want of a broader light to view them by, which would show that each and every struggle was but the germination of the unborn angel ? But we must leave the Angel, and return to the Man. The Archdeacon — whose afternoon discourse, on the score of pleasing Mistress Amy Yerner, had fallen so wide of the mark — though Scotch, was not a minister of the Scottish Kirk ; but a much greater personage, for he was a canon of St. Paul's, and second cousin — not only to the late Laird of Glenfern, but to the living Lord McToady, a Scottish Peer, who had boo''d and hoo^d himself into that mysterious quantum of social and pohtical influ- ence, which, for the last century and a half, has been a riddle that the Anglo-Saxon is not Oedipus enough to solve ; and yet is pretty much the same as the Theban one of old — save that the crawling, or going upon all fours, is treated with a difference, and protracted far beyond the commencement of the career. Nevertheless — to his credit be it spoken, — however steep, shppery, or miry the ascent which had to be climbed might be, his Lordship never lost the Celtic virtue of clanship, or pushing the fortunes of his relatives, even to the remotest degree of consanguinity ; and hence the two fat livings held by the Reverend Samuel Panmuir. 20 BEHIND THE SCENES. Indeed, his poor over-worked curate, — once dining at the house of an old college-chum, in one of those social saturnalias that after-dinner confidences are wont to produce — had been heard to observe, in strict secresy to his host, as he held a glass of rare old port to the light, to watch the beeswing which, like plea- sant rumours, floated about it, that, ." Had the canon but risen half as early in the morning, as he had done in the Church, the larks themselves never could have been up to him ! " Never- theless, he was not proud — oh, dear, no, not by any means, — for he had presented the little kirk, at Glenfern, with a painted window, which donation had been duly chronicled in all the London, and echoed in all the provincial papers. That he had picked up this piece of antiquity, for a song, in an autumnal tour through the Netherlands, remained a secret to him and the Dutch broker from whom he had bought it ; for w^hat the Scrip- ture enjoins with regard to our gifts — namely, not to let our left hand know what our right does, the Reverend Samuel Panmuir extended even to his bargains ; so that, although the objects of art and vertu in his house, were always the most rare and valu- able possible — no one ever knew what they had cost — and no wonder ; for, as we before said, the Reverend gentleman was not proud ; so that not only had he presented to the village kirk this painted window, which set forth in all the mediaeval splendours of blue, red, green, and yellow, — the miracle of the loaves and fishes ; but he did far more : for once a year, at least — generally about the time that the court moved northward, — he came and dazzled the simple congregation, with all the canonical splendours of a dignitaiy of the Church ; and though albeit, the fane was small, his voice was as sonorous and com- manding as if he had been rounding periods to rise in inflated undulations, till they filled the dome of his own magnificent cathedral. Nor was this edifying humihty confined to the Church alone ; for his social amenity extended beyond its pale, and the illustrious prebend, who in London sipped tokay with princes, did not in his native Highlands disdain to quaff" humble BEHIND THE SCENES. 21 toddy witli peasants. His visit to Glenfern this year, had been made earlier than usual, about the beginning of August, in- stead of the end of September, for it had been occasioned by a domestic tragedy, which had occurred in the Panmuir family — alas! what family is without one, if not more? Though some are unedited, and some not even suspected ! The old laird, Muir of Panmuir, as he had been called during his fa- ther's lifetime, to distinguish him from the Laird of Glenfern, had died of an apoplectic fit, some fourteen months before ; leaving an only daughter, who was finishing her education at Paris, and an only son, a gentleman-commoner, at Trinity Col- lege, Cambridge, and who, at the period of his father's death, wanted eighteen months of being of age ; although among the fastest of the very fast cantabs with whom he associated. Mrs. Panmuir had been dead many years, so that at the laird's death, Edith Panmuir, and her brother Donald, or The Panmuir, as he then became, were orphans. Great had been the prepara- tions at Glenfern, for the coming of age of the young laird. Old Mrs. Dunbar, their maternal grandmother, had been to Paris, — a long journey for her, even in these days of facile lo- comotion, — and brought back her beautiful granddaughter, Edith, then just entering her eighteenth year, that nothing might be wanting to grace the festivities that were to celebrate young Donald's majority. But alas ! as Archy Argil, the old sexton at Glenfern, used crabbedly to twist the truism of " Man pro- poses, but God disposes " — " Man appoints, but God disap- points;" and, just one Httle month previous to this long-looked for happy event, Donald Panmuir was drowned, in a rowing match at Cambridge. Nothing, as may be supposed, could equal the consternation of the rest of the boat club, at this sad and most unlooked for event ; for even amongst the most heart- less associations, any link suddenly severed from the general chain, gives, to say the least of it, a feeling of fear and insecu- I'ity, which comes home to each individual as a personal cala- mity ; but; in the present instance, the sorrow was less selfish, 22 BEHIND THE SCENES. and more universal ; for the young man, from his openness of heart and purse, had been a great favourite with all his compan- ions — among whom it was proposed, that one or more should instantly set oft' for Glenfern, to break the heart-rending tidings to poor Edith and Mrs. Dunbar, and accompan)'- his remains to Scotland. But no one liking so sad a mission, they resolved to cast lots as to the two that should go, for none would consent to being singly the bearer of such fatal news. This point settled, the chances fell to the Honourable Cecil TrevyHon andMr.Pon- sonby Ferrars. The latter was the clever man of the term, and had, no doubt, head enough to acquit himself creditably, of what, in a worldly point of view, might have been considered a far more important embassy. To say he was the clever man of the term, was to say much ; for colleges and public schools have, at particular epochs, their confluent epidemics of embryo celebrities, and Cambridge that year shrouded many a future star of the literary and political hemisphere. Though a fort- night had elapsed, since Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars and his friend had brought the sad tidings, of which they were the bearers, to the now truly bereaved orphan ; yet, at Glenfern they still lin- gered ; their pretext was, that they waited for the sale, which was now to take place in about another week ; for the young laird having, at the time of his decease, been a minor, he had of course died intestate ; and consequently, an immediate sale of all his effects, without reserve, had been ordered by the exe- cutors, as the landed property went to a very distant branch of the family. The catalogue included a fine collection of curiously embossed Mediaeval plate and bijouterie^ former gifts of the Stuarts, among which were many sardonyx and jewelled cups, and i^cuelles, the dainty workmanship of Benvenuto Cellini and his pupil, Aschauio, and brought by the ill-f^ited Mary Stuart from her apartments in the Louvre, during her brilliant but brief residence at the court of Catherine de Medici. But what chiefly attracted the brokers to this sale, was a very splen- didly carved table, some high-backed chairs, and tabourets of BEHIND THE SCENES. 23 old mahogany as black as ebony, said, like the dining tables at Westminster School, to have been made out of some of the vessels which had composed the Spanish Armada ; and the carving of which was as fine, highly wrought, and elaborate, as any of Grinling Gibbon's marvels. These chairs, tables, and stools, which had cost as a bargain £300 — the young laird had fallen in with at Antwerp, and had intended, upon attaining his majority, to present as altarpieces to the church at Glenfern. Considering, therefore, not only the intrinsic, but the conventional interest, attached to this sale, it was, perhaps, very natural that the two cantabs should remain for it ; yet, their doing so was to me a source of disquietude ; nay, more, ever since their ad- vent, it was as if — "A great, and mighty shadow had fallen ou my heart; " and no wonder — for " coming events " do, indeed, " cast their shadows before ! " but, I must not anticipate. The aihng Israehte, that Mrs. Verner had alluded to, was a broker of the name of Jacob Jacobs, who, from the overturning of a coach, on his way to Perth, had met with divers contusions, w^hich had disabled him from proceeding on his journey, and caused him to be brought to the nearest place of refuge, which happened to be " The Panmuir Arms ; " and even that was three miles across the fields ; here, for the last ten days he had been laid up ; the accident having occurred on the very even- ing, when some business connected with poor Donald Pan- muir's death, had called me to Edinburgh ; and here, on my return, the previous Saturday night (prior to my conversation with Mrs. Amy Verner, in the churchyard), I still found him, and also the two cantabs, whom, from not seeing at Church, I had hoped were gone ; but it appeared, they had only gone out for a drive in Mr. Trevylion's tilbury, for on following Mrs. Ver- ner into the inn, I overheard the following colloquy, between Tim, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' stud-groom, and'Railton, the Canon's 24 BEHIND THE SCENES. portly servant, as they puffed a duet together, with a pipe and cigar. The former, having reheved his feehngs and expressed his sentiments by flinging his half-smoked weed through the open-window, at the head of a highly respectable drake, who was just waddling down to an opposite pond to organize a little aquatic excursion with his wdfe and family. The groom, exclaiming, as he hurled the firebrand amongst them, — " This here Pickwick ain't worth a fardin." He next proceeded to light another, from the bowl of his companion's pipe ; having achieved this new conflagration, he added, between every cloud of smoke — " Your master be a near relation, hain't he, of the young lady, up at the moated house, yander ? — Miss Panmuir, I mean ? " " Oh, dear, no ! — second, or third cousin, or somethink of that sort." " Oh, endeed ! Well, I'd a notion, as all Scotch relations was near." " Why so ? " asked the other, actually removing his pipe from his mouth. " Cause, all Scotch people is so unkimmen stingy, that I thought they must be near relations ; if so be as they was any. Ha, ha, ha ! no offence, Mr. Railton, sir ; I looks towards you." And with a loud laugh, at his own wit, he raised a can of ale, that stood between them, and drank a large draught. " Is your gent agoing to make any stay in these parts ? " asked Railton, as he emptied the ashes out of his pipe, and pro- ceeded to refill it. " Ah ! now, that's just like basking what colour the wind is. It's not easy to know what my master have done, or who he have done ! Ha, ha, ha ! let alone what he means to do. So, yer see, like master, like man ; and as he never says, I can't say, heither ; but don't let us talk of our masters, its so perdigus personal ; and personalities, should always be awoided in good surciety ; as I heerd Lord Snobsby's walley say one night at our goose club. But, who's that elderly gent, though, as I saw BEHIND THE SCENES. 25 one evening at the moated house, when we first come ? Some- thing hke a grey mare, in regard to having black eyes, and a white mane, and tail Hke, I thought as far as I could see, 'twixt windows and doors, he seemed to keep an unkimmen sharp eye on the young lady. Don't wonder at it, though ; never saw a better forehand in my life — beautiful action — clever head — and pins as clean as a whistle ! " " You don't mean Parson Eraser ? " " No, no ! I know he by sight ; he wears a brown bob-wig, he do ; no ; the chap I means is tall, and sightly enough ; good knee-up action too — steps out well — must have gone over the ground when he was younger, I should think." " Oh, that ! — that's Murray of Brierly, — x\lciphron Murray, a friend of the family." " Humph ! don't approve of them there friends of the jamili/. If no followers hain't allowed below stairs, I don't see why they should be above stairs ; and these friends of the family as they calls themselves, hain't nothink helse ; hocly they goes hup the front stairs, instead of down the hairy steps ; but, for hevery think helse, its hegzacly the same ; they is always a-ferre ting- out, and a-poking-their-noses hinto hevery think — a-lurching, and a-poaching like, on bother gents' beats." " Oh I but Murray, of Brierly, ain't one of that sort," kindly interposed Mr. Railton : " I must say, he be quite a gentleman, and a real friend to the Panmuirs ; indeed, it is said, that in his young days there were some love passages bet\veen him and the great Perth beauty, Mary Dunbar — Miss Edith's mother; but the Panmuir was thought a better match for her. To him she married ; and, during her life-time, the Laird of Brierly was always beyond seas, and never came to Glenfern ; but since her death, he has hovered round the place, as an eagle does round a nest of eaglets, when some mishap has befallen the mother bird." I turned away faint and sick ; for there is something appal- ling in finding the holiest secrets of one's life, which one has ' 26 BEHIND THE SCENES. lie'pt veiled, as it were, even from oneself, thus suddenly dese- crated and bared, in the garish light of day, to every vulgar scrutiny. I gnashed my teeth in very bitterness ; for it seemed as if my guardian angel must have given up his garrison, be- fore HER name could have been so sacrilegiously torn from the innermost sanctuary of my heart, to find utterance in this man's mouth ! Poor fool ! that I was, not to remember that even desolation has its gauds, and that these memories of the past are the bright green mosses growing on the ruins of our hopes, which tempt every passer-by to probe at, and uproot them ! When the sharp agony of this paroxysm had subsided, I pushed self back into its citadel, and securing my soul with stronger bars of endurance, I turned to Edith — for even change of suft'ering, when we cannot get rid of suffering altogether, is a relief. It was evident to me, from what had fallen from the clever man's clever groom, that the vulture had marked and was careering round the dove-cote. It seemed as plain as if the plan of attack lay traced before me on a chart, that the f^ist servant had been set to pump the slow and more simple Railton as to what obstacles might be anticipated, or what means of defence existed. I was glad I had overheard this much ; but, besides the impossibility of voluntarily stooping to the degrading role of an eaves-drop- per, my head swam and my strength deserted me, so that I could have no longer stood in the passage awaiting Mrs. Ver- ner's return, who had gone to see if Mr. Jacob Jacobs felt well enough to receive a visit from me. I therefore turned into a little sittiug-room, on the right hand, opposite the bar, where Kail ton and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' groom were smoking, and flung myself into an easy, at least into an arm-chair; where I had not sat long, before, from the open garden-window, a shadow fell across the floor, accompanied by a subdued pant- ing, like that of an incipient steam-engine ; and in another moment the door opened, and the Archdeacon entered, removed his shovel hat, and having, with a snow-white cambric hand- kerchief redolent of some fragrant odour (which it is to be sup- BEHIND THE SPENES. 27 posed was that of sanctity), wiped the dew, not exactly of Her- mon, from liis brow, he extended his nlmost equally white hand, as he said, on perceiving me, — " Ah ! how d'ye do, Murray ? When did you return ? " " Late last night." "Seen Edith yet?" " No ; I shall walk over to Glenfern after dinner." " For that matter, you can have a seat in my chaise. Why not come over and dine with them ? I promised Mrs. Dunbar to do so. Poor things ! it's bad for them to be left too much to themselves." " Thank you ; — no, not to-day ; for I have ordered dinner here." " x\h I well, as you please ; but the ' Panmuir Arms ' has no such Burgundy as the Glenfern cellars ; and, considering how soon it may pass into the hands of — Heaven knows who, it is a pity not to drink it while it is to be had." I smiled at this amiable and considerate precaution, as I re- plied, that I was also waiting to see the poor Jew, who was ly- ing ill above stairs, " Oh ! well now, really ! " cried the reverend gentleman, reddening with virtuous indignation, much after the fashion of a turkey-cock under a more ignoble sentiment, " I cannot con- ceive how you can tolerate, much less encourage such people ; and a Jew broker^ too ! — the very worst of this accursed race ! — a set who live upon the spoils of the widow and the orphan, and who, like their prototype, the devil, literally go about, up and down, seeking whom they may devour. Bad as he pre- tends to be, I've no doubt he'll be quite up to having every- thing knocked down to him for a mere song, at the sale at Glenfern." '" In that respect, my dear sir, I don't see that he would be any worse than the most orthodox Christians ; for all persons professedly attend sales for the purpose of obtaining bargains, and I even heard you yourself express a wish that that mag- 28 BEHIND THE SCENES. nificent altar-table, and the chairs which poor Donald had in- tended—" " Oh ! that," interrupted the Canon, stopping me with a waive of his hand, "is another affair: of course, a man must be a fool Avho don't try to get as much as he can for his money." " The very principle, my dear sir, upon which the Israelites act." " Principle ! principle, indeed ! — a Jew with principle ! Ah ! well ! — yes, if they only stuck to the principle, no one would blame them ; but it's the interest ! — confound them — that they take." And the reverend gentleman paced the room, fillipped his fingers, and altogether enunciated with such high- pressure vehemence, that a mere worldly-minded and secular spectator might have been hurried to the erroneous conclusion that he spoke even more from personal pique than from general philanthropy. " Alas ! my dear sir, I fear it is not only in monetary trans- actions, but in all our worldly affaii-s, that interest interferes so terribly, and often so fatally, with principle." - The Reverend Samuel Panmuir suddenly came to a full stop in his peripatetics; looked at me with an obliquity of glance that made an admirable ocular note of interrogation, the purport of which was — ^'' Do you mean that at me^ sir?''^ — and then, apparently having answered the query to his own satis- faction, he as suddenly resumed his walk, making, however, another pause at the bell, and declaring it was so hot, that he must have some sherry and soda water; saying which, he walked to the door, and putting his head into the passage, and calling " Railton," ordered the soda-water and his carriage to be got ready at one and the same time. In less than ten minutes the latter was at the door : and its owner had scarcely waived his hand in token of adieu, saying, — " Well then, I'll tell them they may expect you after dinner at Glenfern?"— BEHIND THE SCENES. 29 And driven off as soon as I liad nodded an assent, before Mrs. Verner re-appeared, twitching her fingers with accelerated speed ; an infalHble sign that her humour had not improved since our recent conference in the churchyard. "Hoot Maister Alciphroon," said she, "I beg ye a lent of paredons jist, for leaving ye looming aboot here a' this uncoo lang time ; but gin it had been a month o' Sundays, I'd ha waited till I'd seen the back o' that fat Pharisee, as I did na want to hear ony of his unfeeling jibes. I ken very weel lang syne, that there's nae pitting feeling into them that the de'il has taken it oot o' ; but if they cannot compassionate, they should nae insult people's misfortunes, for they dinna ken hoo soon it may be their ain turn to gang to the wall ; for Fortune is a sorry jade at best, wha often flengs those she trots the Ifighest wi'." " Very true, my good Mrs. Verner ; and, therefore, unlike the rest of her sex, her caprice is her greatest virtue, for but for it, there would be but little or no retributive justice on this side the grave." '' Ah ! weel — true, true ! mair is the pity, but I jist waited to see the flitting o' Sammy Panmuir, to cam and tell ye, that the puir chiel upstairs will be mickle glad to see you. Eh ! but it's a thoosand pities jist that he's nae a Christian, for it seems to me as if he hod plenty o' the right true stuff in him to make one." " Cannot you," said I, as I followed this worthy w^oman up- stairs, to the sick man's room, "get him a step beyond King Agrippa, and quite persuade him to be one ? " " Wa'd to the Laird that I could, and a far greater credit too to ony kirk, militant or itherwise, thon sic a puffed up popin- jay as Sammy Panmuir, wha has not above ain baubee's worth of Christianity, if he ha that same, to twenty tons of pride and hypocrisy ? " " I hope at all events, Mrs. Verner," said I, as we stopped before Mr. Jacob Jacobs' door, " that that is below J^^'oof, if no- thing else at the Panmuir Arms is?" 30 BEHIND THE SCENES. "Nac a bit o' it, Murray, nae a bit o' it; and the de'il, as head o' the excise, for a' sic illicit spirits, is welcome to guage him as soon as possible, and the sooner the better," laughed the hostess. " Nay, friend Amy, that speech is unworthy of so good a woman." " Like enoo', Murray, for it's nae possible to fit avery ane wi' the same cap ; but it's a capital coif for Sammy Panmuir, so ye mun aye let him wear it." The knock at the bedroom door, which accompanied this last speech, having been answered by a " Come in," from its in- mate, we entered, and found the invalid sitting in an easy chair, by the open window ; his left arm only in a sling ; and his face, which was a singularly mild and benevolent one, with not much of the Hebrew type in it either, bearing no greater marks of h?s recent accident, than a more than ordinary degree of pallor and languor. He made an effort to rise on our entrance, which I of com-se jDrevented; and then drawing a chair near to his, after condoling with him upon his accident, I asked him if he had been on his way to attend the sale at Glenfern, when it had occurred." " No," said he, " for at the time the Perth coach overturned, I was not aware there was to be such a sale, but now, as I om here, and it is to take place next week, I shall certainly remain for it ; for, thanks to my good friend Mrs. Verner's admirable nursing, I feel I shall be quite myself by the time it takes place. Dear me ! what a very melancholy way the poor young laird came to his death, — out on a party of pleasure, I understand, at some rowing match ; and so near his coming of age too ; really I don't know when I have heard anything more lamentable, more grievously distressing ! " 1 passed my hand over my eyes, as the image of poor young Donald — one moment in all the pride of youth and beauty, and fresh with budding hopes, and the next a {)al^-8orse, no longer on but in the earth — rose up before me. BEHIND THE SCENES. 31 "Pardon me, sir, I distress you?" said the Israelite. " No, not you ; but it was a terrible blow to come upon a family without any warning." " And yet," rejoined Jacobs, " though no believer in second- sight myself, or even in omens, those two circumstances loere very extraordinary." "What two circumstances?" said I, looking from the last speaker to Mrs. Verner. " Eh ! weel, ye see, Murray," said the latter, " I never told you for twa re^isons ; first, for fear o' feshing ye, and next, be- cause ye nae believe in them sort of forerunnei's." '• What forerunners ? If you mean presentiments," said I, with a sigh, " I fear I only believe too much in them." " Nae, nae ; I mean secondsight, and supernatural occur- rences, and sic like ; and beUeve it or not, Murray, but the vary day the young laird was drooned at the English College, as Meggie Armstrong w^as crossing the drawbridge, what should she see but the young laird's wraith dragged oot of the moat, pale as death, and wringing wet; and she ran shrieking into the hoose, telling what she'd seen ; and all their care was to keep the fotal news from puir Miss Edith, for they knew^ then the young laird was dead. But they might hae saved them- selves the trouble, for that very same day and hour, as she was walking by the lake in noonday, the sun high in the heavens, not a breath of air, nor a ripple on the waters, doon falls up- rooted, as if by magic ! a giant oak; not one of the old, hol- low-trunked ones either, but a young, green, sturdy tree, full of life and sap. Nor was this all : between some of the top branches, which fell towards Miss Edith, was a bird's nest, from which the auld birds were flown, and a' the eggs bra'ken in the fall, and from which, hooever it came there, floating like a death- flag, was a rag o' black crape. Noo, Muiray, what say you to that? For ye ken weel the legend of the Panmuirs, that whenever the head of the family is ganging ta dee, a tree is sure to fall; we hae seen it oorsels wi' ^jm generations, and this ane makes a third." 32 BEHIND THE SCENES. I saw in it, indeed, more than I cared to own ; for in the ruined nest, with the ominous black signal fluttering from it, I foresaw poor Edith's yet unacted portion of the tragedy ! A shudder ran through me ; but I made no answer. Apparently the former w\as more satisfactory to Mrs. Verner, who said, — " Eh ! weel, I'm glad to see ye believe in these telegraphs from the land o' the Lile at last." Not caring to let the good woman see the extent of the im- pression her legend of the fallen tree had made upon me, I turned to the invalid, and entered into general conversation with him ; and a most intelligent, well-informed, liberal-minded per- son I found him. Benevolent, without any of the cant of bene- volence, which, next to that of piety, is the most offensive, be- cause the most contradictory of all ; for the same reason that " good wnne needs no bush," true philanthropy and genuine piety need no jargon ; for, where the reality exists, the ostenta- tious insignias of them are superfluous : all genuine feelings seek and find a vent in action^ rather than in words. It is not recorded that the poor sinful woman who entered into the Pha- risee's house, uttered one word either of repentance or of suppli- cation ;'^we are merely told what she did — she washed the Sa- viour's feet with her tears, dried them with her hair and her kisses, and gave Him the most precious thing she possessed^ namely, a costly unguent out of an alabaster box — so costly that the more self-righteous and greater professors of the lav/ marvelled, and murmured at her extravagance I They did so then, and would do so tenfold now ! But hear the words of Christ ; and judge how He appreciated the deed above the word : — " And Jesus answering^ said unto him, Simon, I have some- what to say unto thee. And he saith. Master, say on. " There was a certain creditor which had tivo debtors : the one owed him five hundred 2Jencc, and the other ffty. '•''And ivhen they had nothing to XKiy, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me, therefore, ivhich of them will love him most ? BEHIND THE SCENES. 33 " Simon answered and said, I supjjose that He to whom he forgave most. And He said unto him, thou hast rightly judged. '^ And He turned to the ivoman, and said unto Simon, seest thou this woman ? I entered into this house ; thou gavest me no luater for my feet : hut she hath washed my feet loith tears, and willed, them with the hairs of her head. " Thou gavest me no kiss : but this woman since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. " 3fy head loith oil thou didst not anoint : hut this looman ha tlb anointed my feet vnth ointment. " Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins which are many, arc forgiven ; for she loved muchr And to go from sacred to profane history, Curtius did not tcdk patriotism to the Roman people, but devoted himself to the Manes by plunging into the mysterious gulf, — and thus, for the good of his country, stopping the f;ital gap in the Forum ; instead of pointing out, and expatiating upon, in interminable harangues, the other non-forthcomiiig individual who should have done so. These thoughts were suggested to me by se\eral facts — not sentiments — which had fallen from tlj,e Israelite, in the course of conversation ; and caused me to be of x\my Ver- ners opinion, that it was a pity, his virtues being Christian, the man was not so likewise. I could have sat with him much longer, even at the risk of fatiguing him, had not my dinner been announced. After which I had to walk to Glcnfern. I had purposely delayed doing so till the evening, for I could not bear to look upon so much sorrow in broad daylight. I there- fore rose, and took my leave of Jacob Jacobs, shaking him cordially by the hand, and volunteering to repeat my visit on the following day, — if he would not deem it an intrusion ; but he having negatived the latter clause, and frankly accepted my proposition, I descended to my solitary meal, which in the present instance was more a matter of form than necessity ; for appetite I had none, though surrounded by all the allurements 34 BEHIND THE SCENES, of one of Mrs. Verner's epicurean little dinners ; for among her other sterling good qualities, she possessed the most requisite and attractive, though, alas ! now-a-days the most neglected of female attributes, that of being an excellent housewife, which is a sort of domestic magic wand, that when skilfully wielded dispels all the chill, dreary miasmas of disorder and provision- spoiling, and raises up in their stead, a fairy land of comfort and well-beinir. Cljc |dir aiiir tije (Snitik. SECTIOX IL • THE HOUSE OF MOURNING. "Teach mc to do thy Mill."— P5. cxliii. 10. Leaving ibe " Panmuir Arms " as the shades of evening had riung their mourning mantle of twilight over the heretofore joyous and smiling landscape, I turned down the glen that led to the moated house, as Glenfern was called by the peasantry. The heather with Avhich it was carpeted, was as soft and elastic as ever; there seemed neither death, nor dearth to dim its free, wild, fresh, eternal, ever-springing youth ; and as the night- wind tossed its purple flowers buoyantly, now high, now low, in mimic waves across the sward, they floated with the proud and bysine grace of a young monarch's regal robes. Oh, great mystery of heaven ! and sad, sad antithesis of earth ! why must every passing hour bring forth its twins of Life and Death ? No marriage-bell rings merrily out, but on the self-same gale must toll another's dirge ; and for every side that laughter splits, sorrow breaks some aching heart ! and yet when all seems the work of a beneficent being, how account for this compulsory want of sympathy throughout creation ? How, indeed ! — unless that all things here below are for a stated time under the iron yoke of that most fell of all tyrants. Necessity ; 36 BEHIND THE SCENES. and that at all events, it is not for us, the creatures, to criticise the antilogy of the Creator. As I walked on, the gloom of Jiiy own thoughts, deepening faster than that 6f the evening, I felt disposed to quarrel with every sound, however distant, that broke the solemn and respectful silence, which appeared to me, ought to environ that now desolate house. Even the lowing of the cattle, and the cow-boy's whistle, as they came across the glen, annoyed me. I quickened my pace to get beyond their reach, but when I arrived at the iron gates, beyond the draw- bridge, I had not courage to ring the bell ; for at all times there was something startling in its deep tone, and now it would have sounded through the dark and hollow stillness of that silent house, like a summons to the dead. So I turned away, and directed my steps to a secluded spot, appropriately called the Wilderness, where was situated the mausoleum of the Panmuirs, of which poor Donald was now the last^ inmate. For many years, the rank luxuriance of the weeds had been left perfectly and purposely undisturbed, and the sarcophagus had been built between two gigantic yew- trees, of enormous girth, said to be thirteen hundred years old; and as that is but a small span of life among the dead, it is very likely to have been the case. Thei-e was also, as in the old Saxon burying-grounds, a lych gate under which every corpse passed, and between the j^illars of which it trysted, prior to proceeding to its last resting-place. I had now reached this gate; it was a modern antique, quite out of character with the rest of the place, and therefore in bad taste ; for harmony in all things — living, or inanimate — silent, or vocal — alone constitutes beauty ; and this arch was of the pompous classic, supported by two Corinthian capitals ; for Stuart Panmuir, Edith's grandfather, had lived with Prince Charlie (for he was no Pretender, so we will not style him such) at Florence, and Ptome, till the death of the latter ; and had returned home with a classic fever, and Pontine ague, from which the poor old place at Glenfern would have suftered con- BEHIND THK SCENES. 37 siderably, had not Death, that great reader ot" all hiiiuan riot acts, put a stop to his proceedings, just as the above-mentioned arch was completed, the capitals of ^Yhose pillars were, however, both redeemed and embellished by the finest real acanthus I have ever seen out of Syria, or Greece ; for it was the very — not abomination, but — luxuriance of desolation. As I waded through the dank and tangled grass, I suddenly felt a cotmter- acting movement within it, which caused it to knot in eddies, as it were, around my ancles, and greatly impeded my progress. Had I been either in a prairie, or a wigwam, I should, from the strange, creeping advance of some living thing, most assuredly have anticipated the approach of a serpent ; and as it was, I was by no means sure that it was not something of the sort, under the milder phase of a snake. Influenced by this impres- sion, which was every instant becoming stronger, I hastily seized, and broke off, a stout branch of cypress, as the only weapon within my reach ; and stood on the defensive, awaiting tlie ex- pected foe ; when lo ! by the pale light of the just-rising moon — as its rays streamed athwart the dense foliage of the sur- rounding funeral trees — I perceived that a way was cleft through the grass, though not by me ; and that which I had mistaken for a wily reptile, turned out to be an honest, fjiithful dog — even the faithful greyhound of poor Donald Panmuir. The animal continued to crouch till he came close to me, and then gently lifted up his head, without uttering a sound, and licked my hand, while he trembled violently. " Poor Eos ! poor fellow I" said I, first patting his head, and then, as I took one of his icy-cold trembling ears in each of my hands, stooping down to kiss the good creature for his human sense, and more than human love — "So, my poor dog, the great archer's shaft has come even unto you, and there's not a bound or a bark left in you ; but we must bear it, my man, we must bear it. We are all born to reverses, Eos, but such as I am, I'll be your friend, and you shall be mine. We both loved poor Donald well, and that shall be the first bund between you and I." 38 BEHIND THE SCENES, At the mention of his master's name, the poor animal sprang up, and put his paws on my shoulders, and for the first time uttered a low moan, as the next moment he relaxed his embrace, and again crouched down tremblingly at my feet, thus saying plainly,— " Oh, no, you are very kind, but you are not he." "No, my poor fellow, I am not," said I, replying to tha dog's thought, which his dumb show had so forcibly and touch- ingly expressed ; " but I was his friend, and will be yours^ so rouse up, and come with me to the house, or else we shall find the garden-gate locked." So saying, I walked on a few steps, whistling Eos after me ; but instead of following, he rose up, and looked wistfully in the opposite direction ; at length, however, he came after me, but it was only to pull mc by the skirts of my coat, and forcibly in- sist upon my going his way, instead of his coming mine ; and his way was towards the little chapel, in front of which was the mausoleum, and both were at the other, or eastern extremity of the wilderness. " Well, Eos," said I, finding he persisted in his eftbrts to draw me the other way, " as in all partnerships there should be mutual concessions, I will not begin ours by thwarting you, and refusing your first request." And with this I turned back, and the dog, after having licked my hand, and given a little whine of satisfaction, darted forward with a bound, but soon slacken- ing his pace, kept turning back every now and then to see that I followed. I began to ponder what his meaning could be, and concluded that it was a piece of canine sentiment; and that feeling he had too much giief for one poor heart to bear, he wanted me to come and help him to mourn at his master's grave ; but on arriving at the mausoleum, I soon became aware of the sagacious creature's real motive in bringing me thither, for the dooi's were open (an unusual circumstance), and by the faint ghmmering sepulchral light of the suspended lamp, whicli alwavs burnt within, I beheld the form of Edith Panmuir, BEHIND THE SCENES. 39 thrown, in an agony of grief, across lier brother's coffin. The rusthng of my footsteps among the dried leaves and long grass, as I approached, roused her, and she started up, leaning on one elbow, and looked wildly around, like a deer at bay. At length, perceiving that it was me, she sprang forward, and con- vulsively seizing both my arms, exclaimed, — " Oh, it's you, Murray, come at last; thank God. Oh, tell me that he is not dead, that it is all false — a horrid mockery — a bad jest, invented by cruelty, and prepetrated by folly, to pre- vent my being too much overjoyed at seeing Donald again. Yes, yes ; you heard in Edinburgh that he was not dead ; is it not so ? Tell me, tell me quickly, if you don't w^ant to kill me too, Alciphron." As she hurriedly gasped out these wild fitful words, she kept passing her hands searchingly over my coat, as if she thought I had brought back with me from my short journey, some precious talisman that was to assure her of her brother's existence ; but poor soul ! finding nothing — what else does misery ever find ? — she again almost shrieked as her head fell upon my shoulder, — "Murray ; I charge you to end this shameful mockery; and tell me quickly that Donald lives ! " " Yes, dear Edith, he does indeed live ! and that freed from all the change — the chance — the sin — the sorrow — of this wretched life," sighed I, as I at length succeeded in arresting within my grasp her small burning hands. "I knew it!" cried she, with aloud hysterical laugh — her poor wandering brain having seized the sound of the first sen- tence I had uttered without its import ; but the illusion was a merciful one, and gave a happy turn to her delirium, for she was in a high fever. Possessed Dy the erroneous idea that her biother still lived in tJm world, I had now no difficulty in lead- ing her away from his grave towards the house ; aijd having locked the door of the mausoleum, and put the key in my pocket, I led or rather dragged Iier forward, with one arm around her. 40 BEHIND THE SCENES. waist, for she could not have supported herself; her wild laugh, and still wilder plans for welcoming poor Donald back to Glen- fern, wringing my heart, till my own brain almost reeled under the ordeal. Poor Eos followed, his ears back, and his tail down, with his whole weight of honest grief sinking deeper and deeper into his dog's heart, without even a febral illusion to lighten it. When we reached the lych gate the moon had surmounted every cloud, and shone out in all her splendour. " See, see ! " cried Edith, suddenly stopping, and raising her head from my shoulder, as she pointed up at it ; " how bright and beautiful ! they are making everything for Donald ; dead, indeed ! — oh, but it was a cruel jest ; but never mind, it's over now, and they can't prevent his coming — no! — no! — "// reviendra deinain ! " And she warbled out in her exquisitely clear, silvery, and touching voice, that pretty and most pathetic of French romances which bears the name of those words ; and then seizing a branch of cypress upon which the dew-drops in the moonlight sparkled like diamonds, she wreathed it round her hair, saying — " Ah ! this is what I must wear ; no roses for me, for Don- ald always puts ivy in my hair ; he says he likes green and gold — gold ! gold ! Oh ! how fine I shall be to-morrow ! car — " II reviendra demain/^^ And as she sang, she l6t down her magnificent hair, which indeed fell in showers of rippling gold about her shoulders. It was difficult to tell which was the most fearful ! — her beauty or her insanity, as she stood there in her black dress, and her radi- ant hair, flowing like a mantle around her, beneath that pale pure light, and within that solemn arch — a fitting frame for such a picture ! There was in Edith Panmuir • "A blending of all beauties." The sculj'tor who studied form alone, would have found it re- alized here beyond his iiK)st etherealized ideal ; and the paint- BEHIND THE SCENES. 41 er who sought for colouring and expression, would have had his very " Eureka ! " silenced by the difficulty of selection — such a prodigality was there of both ; while the lover ! — that always magniloquent incarnation of egotism, who, Narcissus-like, ever seeks the reflection of his own image, w^ould, in the hyaline of her deep nature, have found an element sufficiently pure to mirror back the softened self of his worship. In looking at her, admiration hovered like a bee, from the beauty of one feature to that of another, not knowing which to dwell upon as the sweetest; though in the deep violet eyes with their snowy lids and long dark lashes, through which a golden ray darted, lay the argument of that sublime epic, her face — a face which if Praxiteles might have modelled the outline, Prometheus had undoubtedly dropped the spark which illumined it. Another and rarer lovehness Edith also possessed, which was an enchant- ing expression of teeth, as well as of mouth, they were so pearl- like, so symmetrically even, and so exquisitely arched in her head; and to all this was added that sow? of beauty — grace, without which, however perfect it may be in its elements, it is after all but an unfinished, unanimated mass of clay. Often when I had contemplated this "Fatal gift of beauty," had I speculated as to whose prey it might become, for, with the rapidly increasing selfishness of men and the crooked con- ventionalities of society, the woman — at least the woman en- dowed as Edith Panmuir was — who is not a prey to some ty- rant or to some profligate — is but the exception that proves the rule ; and now, as I gazed with a riven heart upon the tempo- rary overthrow of the light within which lit up this wondrous regalia of Nature's diadem, Beauty, I almost doubted if it would not be better, that it should become permanent, if even so ap- palling an alternative could save her from the other and worser fate. xVt length, after much soothing and persuarsion, I got her 42 BEHIND THE SCENES. back to the bouse, but rambling wildly all the way about the great things that were to be done on Donald's return, and ex- claiming every now and then — " Oh ! I am so happy ! too happy ! " I did not doubt it; for what is all human happiness but a temporary delirium, a friendly mirage, which by inspiring us with a little false hope, gives us courage to push on through life's desert, towards those bright waters iifter which the heart panteth, but which ever vanish into empty air at our approach. On reaching the house, I found Mina, a French girl, Edith's maid, and with her assistance, got her up stairs to her bedroom ; there leaving her, I despatched a man and horse to Perth for Dr. Mc Alpine, ordering him, though it was a long twelve miles, never to draw bridle till he arrived. It was a relief to me to hear that the Archdeacon was still continuing his assiduities to the Panmuir Burgundy, that was soon to pass into the hands of the Philistines ; for I was in no mood to support his ortho- dox common-places, or the cauterized fortitude with which he bore the bereavement which had befallen his relatives. There- fore, I hurriedly laid my hand upon old Anderson, the butler's arm, as he was about to open the dining-room door, and usher me into it. " No, no," said I, " I've seen the Archdeacon this morning ; where is Mrs. Dunbar ? I'll go to her." "Eh, weel, puir soul, she's where she always is, wi' her Bible, in the little oak breakfast room, praying God to help her up wi' her burden, just, for ye ken weel sir thot He wha' lays it on, can alone hft it off." "True, Anderson; and it is a blessing to think that she knows this too, when such a blight has fallen upon the winter of her life, poor soul. But has she seen no one?" " Eh, weel, yes, they baith saw, and had a prachement from his Raverence the Archdeacon this afternune ; and it was after that that puir Miss Edith took on sae, and made awa wi' hersel to the Laird's grave, where ye found her, puir chiel; and Mre. BEHIND THE SCENES. Dunbar has done nae thing but flow oot at the een lik a foun- tain just aver sin his Raverence had us a' up ond prached to us." " For heaven's sake, what did he say, so to have added to their distress ? " " Eh, sir, ye dinna I hop tlienh^'' said Anderson, turning his head on one side, and extending his hands in a deprecating manner "that the likes o' me wad hae the presoomption to stick cop my capacity into thinking it cud possibly understand what a grand gentlemon like his Raverence the Archdeacon wad say ; but ane thing he made plain to us a', which was, that it was just for a judgment upon a' oor wickedness that God hod cut oft' the Young Laird, in the flower of his youth ; and then to comfort us he read us a' the damnatory passages oot of St. Paul ; after Avhicli, he left us to dress the blister for oorsels ; puir Mrs. Dunbar tried to do so, wi' a little healing from Christ, which did a' the rest o' us a warld o' good ; but his Raverence had so probed puir Miss Edith to the quick that there was no bringing her to." As I followed Anderson to the little oak room, I saw at once how the matter stood ; the fact was, the Archdeacon was a sort of clerical San Grado ; he had but two remedies for all cases — bleeding and hot water. To probe every wound and parboil every hope, w^as his grand panacea ; and this violent practice he treated quite as a matter of course, like the farrier whom Sir Walter Scott mentions, as having set up for a physician, who said he never used anything but simples^ to wit, " laudemy and calomtf (laudanum and calomel) ; and it was very evident, in the present instance, that the Reverend gentleman's theolo- gical laudemy and calomy had driven a poor young person to the vero-e of insanitv, and brou^jht an old one a stance nearer to " that bourne from whence no traveller returns." When I entered the breakftist room, the poor old lady was sitting with her pale placid face and whilome handsome eyes fixed on an open page of the large family Bible — the Bible, with 44 BEHIND THE SCENES. its embossed black leather binding, and massive silver corners and clasps, in which for the last three hundred years the birth and death of every Panmuir of Glenfern had been recorded. One tear, and one only, lingered on her venerable cheek — for the tears of age, like those of childhood, dry quickly. As Time is more merciful than most spoilers, and wheresoever he uproots a blessing, he breathes with his icy breath upon the vacuum, and thus sears the rent, the torture of which would otherwise be insupportable. Her figure, still slight, and very little bent, considering her age, looked almost shadowy in the black dress for which she had exchanged her usual silver gTcy ; but she still retained the clear white lawn kerchief she always wore on her shoulders, pinned in a point at the back of her waist, and a coif of the same material, which in shape was a sort of honorary widow's cap, and harmonized admirably with her silver hair. As soon as I had closed the door, she extended her right hand to me ; and removing her spectacles with the other, she pointed with them to a verse in the open volume before her, which was the second of Corinthians vii. G. " God that comforteth those that are cast down." " Is it not so, Murray ? " said she, in a broken and tremu- lous voice. " Indeed is it, my dear madam," replied I, briefly ; for I felt there was no other comfort for our great sorrow. " And yet," resumed she, almost in a whisper, as if she thought there was something impious in the assertion which forbade its being uttered aloud, '' He has cast us down very low, Alciphron." On the table, beside the Bible, was lying a volume of sermons and a little viaticum of comfort by the Rev. James Smith, entitled "Daily Bible ReadiivGs for the Lord's Household." My heart was too full to trust my own words, which could but echo its heaviness ; so taking up this invaluable little book, I sat down beside her, and answ^ered her from it. The passage I selected was headed with this verse from Isaiah, ix. 20 : — BEHIND THE SCENES. 45 " The days of thy mourniny shall he endedr And then went on to say : — " Here we have much to cause us to mourn : The state of the world and of the church ; many things in the domes- tic circle ; the deep depravity of our own hearts ; our evil tem- pers and passions ; the temptations and fiery darts of Satan ; the losses, crosses, and privations which we are called upon to endure ; the hiding of the Lord's face ; the want of brighter evidences ; weakness and pain of body. All these things con- spire to make us sorrowful ; so that with David, we sometimes say, ' I am troubled ; I am bowed down greatly ; I go mourn- ing all day long.' But there is a bright prospect before us ; our mourning season will soon be over : if we now sow in tears, we shall reap in joy. The days of our mourning will soon be ended. Then shall we have hght without darkness, holiness without sin, joy without sorrow, service without toil, the eternal sunshine of our Father's love without an intervening cloud. We shall soon shed the last tear, breathe the last sigh, utter the last groan, express the last wish, and feel the last pain, and then all beyond will be holiness, happiness, and perfect blessed- ness." " A few more days, or months, or years, In this (lark desert to eomi^lain ; A few more sighs, a few more tears, And we shall bid adieu to pain." " Tliank you, Murray, thank you, and I above all am wrong to repine, for my days of mourning will be sooner ended than any of yours : and then I shall see them all again ! That poor boy, Donald, with his handsome, bright, happy fjice, and my poor Mary, too ! You loved Mary, Alciphron, and I've often and often wished that she had been your wife ; I think you'd have made her happier than Muir Panmuir did ; but her father willed it otherwise. Well, well, there's no use in wishing ; what's done is done ; what's gone is gone ; and for what is to come 46 BEHIND THE SCENES. hereafter the Lord be praised. But wliere is Edith, poor child ? " " Gone to bed, ma'am. She's not* very welL" "Not well! She going to be ill? — perhaps to die, too. Good Lord ! good Lord ! No, not another ; not another, pray ! Spare this one ; the last, the only one ! " And as she wrung her trembling hands, and lowered her again streaming eyes, she rose up and tottered towards the door, saying she would go to her directly. Anxious to spare her this additional shock, and, if possible, to get her to bed before Dr. McAlpine arrived, I followed, and entreated her not to do so ; saying that Edith was a little fever- ish, and that a good night's rest would be the best thing for her ; and therefore she had better not, on any account, disturb her. " Murray, tell me the truth," said she, laying her thin, sha- dowy hand upon my arm, and looking into my fjice with the most heart-breaking and piteous expression ; " do you think she will die ? " " No, I do not," said I, resolutely ; " but it is little matter what / think. You know, my dear Mrs. Dunbar, as well as I can tell you, in whose hands are the issues of life and death ; look up to Him, as you have always done, with feith, and He will look down npon you with mercy. If we could but bear in mind that the nearest way to God is through a great sori'ow, we should rejoice, even in tribulation ; but we cannot, nor is it natural that we should ; we wince too much nnder the present pain of the trial to contemplate its future immunities, and I firmly believe that it is intended we should do so ; for the uner- ring wisdom of the Eternal would not send us stripes that He did not mean us to feel ; but it is one thing to smart under chastisement, and another to rebel against it ; the latte?- alone is sinful. All our passions have been given us to use, and not to lie dormant ; it is the abuse of them only that is reprehensi- ble. Anger itself, up to a certain point, is allowable ; for this BEHIND THE SCENES. 4*7 we have the Saviour's warrant; for wbat was Lis reproof to Peter when the latter smote the High Priest ? — ' Be ye angry, but sin not ; ' which was as if he had said, you may be roused into the feeling of anger, for it is human so to be ; but you must not act on your anger, for in that consists the wrong ; actimi being the die that gives currency to, and stamps the amount, both of virtue and of vice. Moral axioms are not moralit}^, any more than the marble in the quarry is either a palace or a cathedral ; and there is as much difference be- tween fine sentiments and amiability as there is between a packet of mignionette seed (though therein the globules be in myriads) and the delicious perfume of the smallest matured and cultiva- ted sprig of the flower. But, as immortal creatures, dear Mrs. Dunbar, our great consolation, under the most poignant sor- rows, is, or ought to be, that we Icnow that none have entered into Canaan but those whom God has first constrained to pass through the wilderness." " True, Mui-ray, true ; and I stand reproved ; and yet I re- member, when I was a girl, hearing old Dunbar, of Cedar Idris, my husband's father, say, that he could drink to almost any ex- tent without feeling the worse for it, as long as he drank but of one wine or one spirit ; but the moment he mixed them his brain reeled, and he felt unnerved for a week after. And I think it is with many sorrows as with many wines — singly, one might bear up under the heaviest of them, but it is the numher, Alciphron, that come warring and battling in one's poor heart, which indeed causes the brain to reel, and unhinges the whole being." " Not so," rejoined I, shaking my head ; " for, as in a mul- titude of councillors there is wisdom, depend upon it so is there also in a multitude of sorrows ; for the Creator is not only a great chemist, who knows how to extract antidotes from every poison, but also a wondrous alchymist, who, from this earthen crucible of human sorrow, extracts pure ore from the dross ot our hearts : and there is not a tear that wc shed but what, 48 BEIIIXD THE SCENES. passed through the alembic of his mercy, flows on befoi'e us into waters of eternal life." "You are right, Alciphron." "No, not I, but God. And now, my dear madam, I'm going to ask you to give me a cup of tea, unless you do not like to ring for it till the Archdeacon arrives from the dining-room." " Oh !" said the poor old lady, rising with a sort of shudder, as she scrambled her pocket handkerchief, snuff-box, and spec- tacles hastily together, " I could not see Samuel Panmuir again to-day if you were to give me the Avorld ! Neither will he come here ; for I told them to take him tea into the drawing- room when he left the dining-room ; and lest he should be offended at none of us being there, do go, Murray, and join him. And now, as you say I'm not to disturb Edith, I'll go to bed ; so good night, and God bless you for the words of comfort you have spoken to me ; for the sympathy that flows out of the same grief always g'6es more home to one's heart than any mere wordy commiseration can do." " Good night ; God bless and comfort you." And as I lit her chamber candle for her, I rejoiced that she would be out of the way before Dr. McAlpine arrived. When we labour under a great grief, it is astonishing the weight we attach to nothings, and the symbolic importance the merest trifles assume ; in lighting the hand-candle a large drop of wax fell upon the candlestick — " See that, now ! Murray," said Mrs. Dunbar, as her own tears began to flow afresh, " the very ligfcts se^m to weep for poor Donald ! And that poor dog, Eos, there is no getting him away from his grave, and even the food they take him there remains untouched." " Poor fellow ! I succeeded in getting him into the house to-night." But I did not add, that, like a Sister of Charity, he was now watching by Edith's bedside.'^ After again exchanging adieus, I went to the drawing-room, where the lights were lit, and on the table, at one side, were placed >the Archdeacon's BEHIND THE SCENES. 49 large Bible and Common -Prayer book, in their pompous bind- ings of scarlet morocco and gold, with purple markers fringed with gold : also a thick volume of his own sermons, which (out of singularit}^, no doubt) he preferred to any others ; these were bound in solemn, orthodox black, and with a hymn book, and a " Pietas Frivitus,-^ completed the paraphernalia for family prayers. But as in all the reverend gentleman's arrangements, the world (naughty as it is) never was totally excluded ; though far be it from us to say that " the flesh and the Devil " filled up any of the interstices. At the other end of the table were strew- ed a few orthodox, Church and State, and virtuously intolerant papers, such as the John Bull, and some of its contemporaries, which the morning's post had brought him, at once to solace and fill up the vacuum of his retirement. But on a small work-table, beside a chaise lounge, where Edith generally sat, and close to a long, Hly-shaped, white Bo- hemian glass filled with flowers, was a packet that had far more interest for me, because I had at once a fear and a presentiment of the quarter from whence it came. It was a small volume, sealed up v/ith black wax — evidently containing a note within it, — and simply directed — " To Mss Panmuir, Glenfern." The hand was one of those sort of Brummagem-German hands, now so rife, meant to look cramped and clever, and which, if there is anything in graphiology, so far succeed that they have that great requisite for all worldly cleverness in their character, namely, a total absence of any high moral feeling or broad generosity of nature. I turned this packet in every direc- tion, and, upon looking at the seal, found it to contain merely the device of a moth hovering round a star, without any motto ; indeed, it needed none; it spoke for itself — being what our heraldic forefathers called a devise parlante — " with this dift'er- ence," said I, aloud, in answer to my own thoughts, "that I fancy you intend that poor Edith should play the part of the moth." I rang the bell, ostensibly for a glass of water, but, in reahty, to question Anderson, touching the where and from 2 50 BEHIND THE SCENES. whom of this packet — a proceeding of which I was half ashamed, and yet I felt that the end justified the means. I was aware that Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' prize poem Jiad made some sensation at Cambridge. This was a small volume ; but no, no, no — impossible ! He might, as far as want of feeling went, have been quite capable of the clumsy bad taste of endeavouring to make approaches to an intimacy with Edith, by presenting her with his "very promising" prize poem at such a moment ; but, as a clever man, like all clever people, he must have had too keen a sense of the ridiculous for any such mode of pro- ceeding ; as, in all the conventionalities and proprieties of life, the head is quite capable of supplying the place of the heart; and, indeed, for that matter, is a far nicer observer of both the one and the other, than the latter. Still, it was a volume of some sort, and, moreover, had been made the medium of a note ; and, as such, was evidently the first preliminary towards attempting a correspondence. So, again taking the packet carelessly in my hand, as soon as Anderson had brought the water, I said to him — " I suppose this has only just come for Miss Panmuir, as I see it is not opened ? " " Eh, weel — no sir — it's bin here a matter o' twa days and mair ; that flippant chap of a groom of aine of the English gentlemen brought it ; I mean they that brought back the puir young laird's remains, and the aine that sent that — I think they ca' — Maister Ponsonby Ferrars," "Then why did you not give the packet to Miss Pan- muir ?" "Eh ! I did, sir, the minute it came; but she just flung it doon where ye foond it, whan I told her wha it coome fram, and went off into a deluge o' tears, till I thought the puir bairn wad a droonded hersel', and she's taken nae notice o' it ever syne." " Thank Heaven 1 " thought I ; "it is to be hoped that she was disgusted at his, under any pretext, intruding at this early BEHIND TIIE SCENES. 51 stage upon lier sorrow. Alas ! T did not then reflect that none would be ' wise as serpents,' w'ere there not others ' guileless as doves!'" But at this crisis of my premature gratulations, the folding- doors of the room were thrown open, and, preceded by Eailton and another servant, each holding a light in regal fashion (ex- cept that they did not adopt any retrograde, crab-like move- ments), the Archdeacon entered — a gentle, little, homoeopathic pomposity in the rustling of his garments, and the slight creak- ing of his shoes, being the obligato accompaniment of that scena, with a sort of flourish of trumpets' finale, in the guise of three sonorous " a-iiems ! " which were doubtless intended char- itably to preclude the possibihty of any one's being caught napping. In the heightened tint of the cheeks, and the somewhat somnulent drooping of the eyelids, were tokens that the parting between Samuel Panmuir and the Glenfern Burgundy had been a protracted one: thus verifying the assertion of the song, that " Parting is such sweet sorrow," and, with a slight chronological variation, by no means omitting the rhyme of " to-morrow." Everything about the reverend gentleman's dress, manner, and deportment, proved his horror of innovation — which, in- deed, with him, was the synonyme of heterodoxy; so that, even the most indispensable, though least cherubimical of his garments, being constructed upon the old aboriginal plan, en- abled him to fomi an excellent substitute for gloves at his girdle, by making at once a refuge and a resting-place for three fingers of each hand, while the little fingers and thumbs, dis- daining such inglorious ease, occupied the outposts. " Ah ! Murray, glad to see you ; how d'ye do again ? been long here ? " said he, extending one finger to me, with a half- patronizing, half-plethoric air. 52 . BEHIND THE SCENES. " Not very." And then, walking to tlie grate, passing the skirts of his coat over his arms, and turning his back to it (although there was no fire) — that being as indispensable a proceeding to an Englishman (which means English, Irish, and Scotch) as turn- ing round three times is to a dog before he lies down — he said, after three more " a-hems ! " "I wonder if the ladies mean to give us any tea ?" " Mrs. Dunbar begged we would ring for it ; for she is gone to bed ; and Edith is so ill, that I have been obhged to send off an express for Dr. McAlpine." "Dear, dear, dear! that is very sad," said the reverend gentleman, as he walked to the table, snuffed the candles, drew forth his snowy handkerchief, carefully wiped his gold-rimmed double eye-glasses, and possessed himself of " The John Bull," preparatory to ensconcing himself in an easy chair. " I was in hopes, that my morning's discourse had convinced her of the sinfulness of giving way to excessive grief;" and here, he turned the first page of the newspaper, and indulged in a strange walrus sort of breathing, something between a subdued snore, and the purring of a cat, after which he added, at the same time flipping a minute particle of the skin of a peach from the frill of his shirt (for, of course, he W'Oi-e shirt-frills, and those of the largest), "but when I get her to London, the change of scene ; the total novelty of the whole thing ; and, eventually, the pleasures of society, will be more efficacious, in restoring her mind to its proper calibre, than anything." Here he took a pinch of snufi" ; while his little finger, as if at once amazed, and charmed, by so much benevolence, stood up like a note of admiration, improvise, for the occasion. " That is very kind of you," I rejoined ; " but I don't know whether you are aware that I am again going abroad ; so that I have begged of Mrs. Dunbar, and Edith, to make Brierly their home, which they have kindly consented to do." " Ah, clearly so ! " said the archdeacon ; " and that is all BEHIND THE SCENES. 63 very well, as far as a ined a terre in Scotland is concerned : you see Edith is an uncommonly pretty, comely, and, indeed, I may say, striking person, therefore, I really do think, with proper advantages, such, for instance, as I could give her, she might marry uncommonly well, even among the cre7ne de la creme^ the fine fieur of the English aristocracy. ' Pon lionor^ as my best friend, his Majesty, George the Fourth, used to say ; I think, she's just the material for making a charming young duchess ; and when it comes to pass, I shall be quite proud of having originated the idea ;" and again the gold snuff-box was tapped (a ^^resent from his late Majesty George the Fourth, du- ring his memorable visit to Edinburgh), and again, a pinch of snuff perorated the sentence. While I replied, more in answer to ray own train of thought, than to what he had been saying — '• She might do worse, certainly," which the reverend gen- tleman mistaking for an intended epigram, enunciated a most ladylike Httle "ha, ha, ha!" and gently patting his left hand with his right, he exclaimed, with a protecting smile — "Pas mall'''' for he was fond of tesselating his discourse with httle scraps of foreign languages, as it proved to the vul- gar two things : first, that he had travelled ; and next, that his faith was orthodox touching the gift of tongues. In order to change the subject, which, with my peculiar fears respecting Edith, was anything to me but a pleasant one, I said — " Oh ! by the bye, there is one thing I am glad to have an opportunity of speaking to you about ; do you not think that as it was poor Donald's intention to have presented those costly old carvinofs to his narish church, that it behoves his relations — his friends, scrupulously to carry out his intention ; and that there will be something sacrilegious (under the circumstances) in letting that altar table, and those chairs, come to the ham- mer; and rather than they should do so, ought we not to buy them in at any cost ; and see that they are consecrated to the purpose for which he had piously designed them ? " S4 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Oh ! my dear sir," exclaimed the Archdeacon, with a lit- tle air of outraged propriety, first stroking the black silk-stock- inged shin of his right leg, as it was crossed over the other, and then turning up the palms of his hands in deprecation, " / never interfere with any one's legal rights ; the law must take its course ; and it would be highly indecorous, not to say alto- gether unjustifiable, for me, or any member of the family of my late lamented young relative, much less of any friend (and he emphasised the word), to interfere either directly or indirectly with the just authority of the executors." " And they said, I have ordered that all the personals should be sold without reserve, or without the slightest reference to the wishes or will of their last owner." " Whew ! wishes, my dear sir, are part of the empty air that turned Don Quixote's windmills — and as to will, a minor has no will, at least no right to make a will — so, as the lawyers say, your action won't lie." " A plain proof," I retorted, " that it is not a legal action, for they generally lie through, and out of everything." Here the servants brought in tea ; and by the time the Archdeacon had sent his commendations to the dairy-maid by Anderson, on the super-excellence of the cream, and next told the footman, who handed the eatables, to be sure and remem- ber and tell the housekeeper that he disliked rolled bread and butter, so to take care it did not come up again, to my great relief I heard the distant sound of carriage wheels, and rightly concluded that they were those of the post-chaise that brought Dr. McAlpine. '' There is one great obstacle, I fear," said I, as soon as the servants had left the room, "to your plan of transforming Edith into a duchess." "What may that be?" " Her want of fortune — for peers now-a-days are quite as eager after money, if not more so, than paupers ; and were Ve- nus herself to run at Newmarket against the Golden Calf, I do BEHIND THE SCENES. 55 not think, in our anti-romantic, and, therefore, sensible (?) and utihtarian age, from one end of the kingdom to the other, a boy of sixteen could be found sufficiently green to hazard even a sixpenny bet upon the former ; so you see, my dear sir, you are imposing a fearful tax upon yourself in taking charge of a por- tionless beauty." " I tell you what, Murray," said the reverend gentleman, closing his right eye in so undignified a manner, that a casual observer might have almost mistaken it for a wink, "husbands are like what I have heard girls say of the valse a deux temps step, ' if they are not caught at once they are never caught ;' and ducal coronets, of course, form no exception to this rule. And though, as you truly say, this is a sensible age, when even boys don't make fools of themselves for love, yet the wisest are not wise at all times, and the strongest have their moments of weakness — Samson himself was caught napping ; and why not some duke, pray ? " " Very true," said I, " even though he should be armed to the teeth with the self-same weapon with which Samson slayed his thousands and tens of thousands." "And I shall very soon see," resumed the Archdeacon, "whether Edith takes or not." ,. Appropriately enough — this leech-like standard that he had established for his cousin, — heralded the arrival of the Doctor, for the next minute a carriage stopped at the door. " Excuse me " said I, rising, " but I think I hear Doctor McAlpine." " By all means ; — then you will not be back in time for family prayers ? " " I think not to-night." " Addios, then, only let me have McAlpine's Bulletin.''^ " Certainly," I replied, — as I closed the door, and joined the Doctor in the hall. Mina was already there, crying — and endeavouring to ex- plain to him how ill Edith was in her broken English, which 56 BEHIND THE SCENES. was not by any means rendered more intelligible from tlie Scotcli twang she bad acquired in her studies ; which she reli- giously believed to be a peculiar inflection, constituting one of the niceties of English pronunciation ! Doctor McAlpine was a man of feeling as well as eminently skilful, and successful in his profession ; therefore, he was not the least surprised at Edith's illness, " It is so far fortunate," said he, " that this strain upon the body will lessen that upon the mind, but nevertheless, we must manage to subdue the fever, and, above all, take care she is not subjected to any fresh shock when she begins to be convales- cent." He then accompanied rae upstairs, where we found the poor sufferer still raving, and the fever much increased. Shall you find it necessary to bleed her?" asked I, anxiously, as he was counting her pulse. " No, no," said he, shaking his head. " The fact is, my dear Sir (but tell it not in Gath ! and still less in Perth ! or I should lose all my practice : for it takes at least one century if not two to remove popular prejudices), I, whenever I can, practise ho- moeopathically, but quite sub rosd ; for the old ladies of both sexes (who would think me an ass if I did not do so) ; I still continue to administer horse medicines, but for Miss Panmuir, whose febrile symptoms are not alone owing to mental excite- ment but have been partly superinduced by atmospheric expo- sure, I shall mix about nine globules of aconitum, or in plain English aconite, in six dessert spoonfuls of water, and the same quantities of brionium,.or briony, which will be given to her alternately, a sixth part, that is one dessert spoonful every hour till the fever abates, when the aconite may be discontinued and the briony given alone ; and I have no doubt I shall have the pleasure of finding her much better in the morning." The first portion of this remedy he administered himself; and after giving some fiirther directions and remaining with her about an hour, he retired to the room which had been got BEHIND THE SCENES. oY ready for him ; while I and Eos remained by Edith's bedside till about five in the morning, when, thank heaven ! the fever was much abated ; and she fell into a gentle doze ; when leav- ing her to the care of Mina, and Norris the housekeeper, till Doctor McAlpine could get back to Perth, and send a nurse, I returned to my temporary quarters at " The Panmuir Arms," where good Mrs..Verner was not a little troubled at hearing of the additional sorrow which had befallen the inmates of the Moated House. SECTION III. " LE PREMIER PAS." "A great fight of afflictions."— Heb. x. 32. Several days had elapsed before the fever had quite left Edith, and during those days, I sadly neglected my new friend Jacob Jacobs, but I wrote and explained to him the reason ; mean- while he was now able to sit in the open air, and even to walk round the garden ; and the sale at Glenfern had been put off for another ten days on account of Edith's illness, which delay the Archdeacon declared was a sad inconvenience to him, but to the true philosopher, there is a sort of indemnification to be extracted from even the most cross-grained, and untoward cir- cumstances; but after all, philosophy is but a pagan panacea for the ills of life, and therefore, ten to one but so tickhsh a theologian as the venerable the Archdeacon Panmuir would have eschewed it as such. But truly says Pythagoras in his golden verses — "Power is seldom far from necessity." So that what philosophy might never have been called upon to do, Vieux Fomard and Chateau Margaux were at hand to achieve, and so the reverend gentleman remained at Glenfern with the patience of Job, without however suffering from any BEHIND THE SCENES. 59 of his afflictions. Mr. Ponsonby Fevrars, and his friend, Mr. Cecil Trevylian, appeared to have even more time" than money at their command, and they seemed resolved to waste the latter at Glenfern, for there they still remained, and were unremitting in sending to inquire twice a day after Edith. Mr. Cecil Trevylian was the handsomest man of Trinity, and for a beauty, par metier^ was as mild and innocuous as it was possible for anything so elaborately and extensively got up to be. His was rather a peculiar style, wearing his hair, which was dark and lustrous as a raven's wing, parted do\\Ti the centre, in w^hat Josephus terms, " after the fashion of the Nazarines," which, with his pale, clear complexion, and his small, peculiarly well- finished features, and turned-down gills, that displayed to ad- vantage his exceedingly white throat, gave him a conflicting air, between a persecuted primitive Christian, and a disconsolate modern dandy; yet nevertheless, if ever content had become incarnate, it w^as in the person of Cecil Trevylian, for he literally appeared to desire, or to think of nothing beyond those attrac- tions which centred in himself, and this naturally brought him to Plutarch's happy standard of — " Qui pauca requirunt, non multis exeidunt." Yet, though in reality such a frame of mind is the ne plus ultra of human wisdom ; his friend Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, who all in affecting to ridicule, envied him his good looks, was in the habit of speaking of him, as " that d — d ass, Trevylian ;" not that the former was by any means dissatisfied with his own personal appearance, which was gentlemanlike, though decidedly ugly, nor would he have been so, had he been ten times plainer. Wilkes, among his other liberties, took that of assert- ing, that in order to succeed with any ( ? ) woman he only re- quired a fortnight's start of the handsomest man in the kingdom, now Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars would not have deigned to ask, nor to accept, even this much odds, as he had a theory that intel- 60 BEHIND THE SCENES. lect was a fiery and irjdomitable Bucephalus, that in any race^ or on any course, could distance all competitors, and this said intellect being his Cheval de Bataille, he rode it on all occa- sions, sometimes a la Mazeppa, without bit or bridle, where his own lawless and ungovernable passions were concerned ; at others, where worldly ambition was the goal, with whip, spur and martingale, and again for the nominally minor, but in reality paramount succes de society (for they are the secret springs that move our social machine), he had all the pas de manege, caracoles, graceful curvettings, and tours de force of " THE GREAT HORSE ; " uo wouder then, that he was nothing daunted by his whiskers being even more genuinely deep red than himself, and his face being of the Cassius type, " lean and hungry "-looking — with a strong family likeness to both a vul- ture and a goat ; the former being the outward and visible sign of his moral, and the latter of his physical nature. The teeth were fine, but of the carnivorous strength and whiteness of those belonging to a wolf or a tiger, and the expression of the heavy and animal mouth, especially when his pale hght eyes took the initiative in speaking to women, if they happened to be young or handsome, had so much of the satyr in it as to be truly appalling ! Not a very seductive portrait this, some will think. But they are wrong, and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was right; for intellect is a sort of Venus's Cestus, that can make ugliness itself more attractive with it, than beauty without it. A serjDcnt is anything but captivating in its appearance, and yet it was under that form that the devil did all the mischief. Besides, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had a good figure, and a small foot, in which all the vanity he could spare from his head was centred, and, as Trevylian used to say, it was upon the strength of these that Ferrars hoped to make a figure in the world, and to get a footing in society. I repeat this, not on account of the puns with which it was polluted, but because it is worthy of record from the sayer of it having been reckoned the most silent man at BEHIND THE SCENES. 61 Cambridge, owing to the circumstance of his never speaking unless he had somethino; to sav : and as he never had anvthiiio* to say (with the exception of the foregoing memorable instance), consequently he never spoke. What a quiet world this would be, if every one similarly situated were to adopt the same com- mendable plan ! But to return to the Moated House. Xothing could equal the desolate appearance of the rooms ; for all things that were not sealed, had printed labels pasted on them, with the number of the lot, ready for the auction ; which was now within two days of taking place. The handwriting on the wall could scarcely have appalled Belshazzar more than these evidences, that all would soon be demanded of this bereft family did Mrs. Dunbar. " That it should come to this ! " the poor old lady would every moment exclaim, with uplifted hands and streaming eyes. It was in answer to one of these ejaculations, a day or two before the sale, that laying my hand upon hers, and pressing it gently, I said, — " What hast thoio, that thou didst not receive ? " " I know it well, Murray ; and yet it is hard to part with these mute friends of one's whole life. What have they done, that they should be banished and sent adrift upon the world, even if we are ? " " I can quite enter into your feelings, my dear Madam : there is something terrible — nay, almost sacrilegious — in sell- ing one's household gods ; and it seems as if the Furies usurped their vacant places to lash us from the home we had desecrated, but you nmst think of all we have still to be thankful for — of Edith's being so much better, and — " I do think of it, Murray," interrupted Mrs. Dunbar, crying still more bitterly; "and I almost think it would have been better if she and poor Donald had gone together, for in their "father's house there are many mansions;" but in this world she is likely soon not to have a roof over her 62 BEHIND THE SCENES. head, for, only fancy — as if our cup of affliction was not already full enough ! — this morning the executors forwarded a letter to Kirkby, the auctioneer, from that Sir Piei-s Moncton, to whom the house and lands of Glenfern were to go as heir-at-law, and who (though they say he is a distant relation of the family's, I'm very sure cannot have a drop of Panmuir blood in his veins) — well, he has written to say, that as he lives entirely abroad, he wishes the house and estate to be put up to auction at the same time as the personals, Glenfern being the only part of his property which is unentailed." This was indeed a blow to me as well as to the poor old lady, and I knew would be an additional one to Edith ; for it was some slight consolation, though a poor one, to think that the old place would not pass entirely out of the family, but go to at least a distant branch of it ; but endeavouring to conceal my own chagrin as well as I could, I had recourse to one of those common-place truisms which nonplussed sympathy so often resorts to, in default of any more solid grounds of conso- lation. " That is indeed vexatious," replied I ; " but, after all, my dear Mrs. Dunbar, we must recollect that it is more a theoreti- cal vexation than a practical one, for Glenfern would have been equally lost to you and Edith whether it went, in the coui-se of law, to this Sir Piers Moncton, whom you neither of you know, and never even saw, or whether it goes by chance into the possession of any other stranger." " Oh ! but it is the whole thing, Murray — it is the whole thing ! — it's all so bitter, all so hard, to think that even poor Mary's picture, with that of poor dear Donald and Edith hang- ing about her, done by Chalon, when they were only four and six years old, and Eos' picture, by Landseer, taking care of what the dear good faithful fellow will never have to take care of again — poor Donald's hat, whip, and gloves — to think, I say, that even those are to be sold to the first chance purchaser, like 60 much waste paper ! — Alciphron Murray, I tell you it's too BEHIND THE SCENES. 63 much sorrow to be heaped on a poor weak old heart and a tender young one, all at the same time ! And then those beautiful carvings, too, which that poor boy meant for Glenfern church ; — oh ! it's rank sacrilege that is, and nothing less ! " " My dear Mrs. Dunbar I " said I, approaching ray chair to hers, and taking both her hands in mine, " things are not quite so bad as you think. The pictures of , the children, and of Eos, I have secured from profanation by ordering Kirkby to buy them in at any price — so they are still Edith's ; with regard to the carvings, I am sorry to say I was not equally successful, for nothing would induce the Archdeacon to consent to having what he calls the prerogatives of the executors interfered with ; so, he being poor Donald's nearest o' kin, I could not act counter to his consent, and was therefore obliged to content myself with having obtained it about the pictures." " Thank you Murray, thank you, for removing that much of the weight ! and may God bless you for it." " And now having blessed me, a poor humble instrument, senseless and powerless, with all my fellows, save when wielded and guided by the Master-hand of the Great Artificer, let us both bless God, whom, remember (and indeed you are not wont to forget it), is ever behind even the darkest clouds^ with which He in his wisdom sees fit to intercept our temporal sunshine. I hate being the hero of my own stories, but yesterday morning, I was one of the actors in a little scene, out of wLich La Fon- taine would have made a charming fable. I am not La Fon- taine, so instead of melodious verse turned by the lathe of the Graces, you must accept plain and very prosaic prose ; but the moral is pointed by a higher power, and it is for the sake of the latter, dear Mrs. Dunbar, that I trouble you with my fable (which is yet no fable, as it really happened). I call it The Blackbird and The Bonze. " The latter title, you must know, I have arrogated to my- self, from having spent a whole day nearly in cementing the 64 BEHIND THE SCENES. bonds of union between the most mutilated and dissevered of Amy Verner's Nankin cups and plates, and green dragon im- possibilities, therefore, I think I am fairly entitled to be called a Priest of China ? " The old lady smiled, it was the first smile that had gleamed across the wintry desolation of her face since her grandson's death ; I w^as thankful for it, and continued my fable. " Once upon a time, a certain Bonze or Priest of China was taking his morning's repast in a rustic retreat, overhanging a murmuring river (you know Amy Verner's little back parlour, with its trellis pajDer of roses and jessamine, looking out upon the garden at the end of which brawls the little brook of the Muir, those are the facts, but for literary dignity (?) I thought ' rustic retreat ' and ' overhanging a murmuring river ! ' sound- ed grander and better, (another smile from the old lady, which acted like a sugar plum to a child at its lesson, so fluently did it enable me to continue) and into the sympathising bosom of these waters, the earliest willows wept, and on their limpid sur- face floated pure white water lilies, like to the coronal of a bride, — except that few brides, even royal ones, have wreaths so gemmed and pearly ! An Eastern queen of very brown complexion, and not too fair a fame, dissolved, so at least schoolboys are told, ii pearl, or union in a cup. (Unions alas ! are not so easily dissolved now-a- days;) but here were whole cups of pearl, and each calix was brimmed up with diamond dew-drops ; a pretty sight truly, even as a Bonze could desire to see, and they in all countries are known to be fastidious, piously seeking the hest in every thing. Besides the river and its lilied crown, there was also a pretty garden, rich in blossoms, and in boughs, and a fair velvet green-sward, where Flora and Pomona might have run races, and when trying to get out of the way of their importunate pursuers Zephyrus and Apollo, might even have fallen fifty times without being hurt once. What considerably added to the beauty of this garden was that it was just then the time of roses ; so that nature seemed BEHIND THE SCENES. 65 one universal blush, as if fluttering with pleasure, at all the sweet things the south wind was whispering to her. In short such a mosaic of varied life was there in that little garden, that the Bonze, as he looked out on it, could not help comparing it to an epitome of the world ; the latter thought w^as more espe- cially suggested by a buzzing, bustling, burly bee at that mo- ment booming past him w^th as little ceremony as if the insect had been a Bonze, and the Bonze only an insect ! ' Ah ! there you go ! ' cried the latter, just like a popular author, ransack- ing, rummaging and turning over the leaves of every flower ; cribbing a tint here, and a perfume there, then diving a Httle deeper, into the cahx which the superficial breeze has neglected to do, and extracting some hoarded and unsuspected treasure, and so. on to another and another till the cram is completed, when after due amalgamation — lo! the concrete effluence issues from some fashionable hive ; and the startling audacit}^ ! is in- stantly devoured by drones with commensurate edacity. While the Wasps, or Critics, (for being a critic does not inculpate the necessity of being a conjurer!) declare the last work of the great Bumble Bee. to be genuine Hybla, and quite worthy of his genius, which some far distant editor of future ' Notes and Queries' may question if they did not mean to write genus ? But this notion suggested by the Brigand Bee, w^as but a pass- ing thought ; so the Bonze continued to eat, and look out, and again, as Bonzes alone can do ; — under difficulties, and the greatest of all difficulties too, at meals, that of not being hun- gry ; therefore as a mezzo iermine, he returned to philosophis- ing, which is as good an amusement as any other, when people have literally nothing else to do ; as it may be termed Idle- ness playing at thinking. Well this game had lasted some time, though as the Bonze had only been playing for love, of course, he gained nothing ; when presently he saw a portly- looking blackbird alight upon a rose-bush, and after chirping to it for som.e time he fluttered through it, and finally settling upon one of the upper branches, shook it in the most uncere- 66 BEHIND THE SCENES. monious manner, — till all the leaves began to fall, and that part of the laAYnJList under the rose-tree, became in truth " Showers of shadowing roses." Was this a mere fit of ornithological spleen ? or could it be that the bird meant it for a cunning compliment to his mate, that in case he stayed out later than usual amusing himself, he might go home and tell Mrs. B. that he had mistaken a rose for her ? Or did the fact lie the other way, and owing some grudge to the rose-bush, did he pretend to mistake 2^ for his wife ; that he might thus laudably and legitimately vent his ill-humour upon it ? On this point let metaphysicians decide, and over it let them squabble and debate as only metaphysicians can ! ' Pos- ing the syllogism thus,' as the great Bumble Bee would say, there we leave it ; and return to the Bonze, who now began to watch narrowly the proceedings of the bird ; who, as soon as the flowers were freed from the leaves, commenced eagerly peck- ing at the petals. " ' Ho, ho ! is it so ? ' said the Bonze ; ' as usual, the solution of the enigma is a near and superficial cause, v/hile I have been missing it, by searching far and deep where it was not to be found ; but since, my poor fellow, it was merely hunger, and neither malice matrimonial nor prepense, which caused your rough usage of the rose-tree, I will take care you are not again tempted to play the destroying angel, at least for some time.' " And so saying, the Bonze hung through the window, at a little distance from, but within sight of the bird, a large piece of bread, a lump of sugar, and a bunch of grapes ; but the poor blackbird was so frightened at the missiles, as they hurled past him, which he, in his poor ignorant bird's heart, thought could portend nothing less than the ' crack of doom,' at least to all birds, so that he flew hastily away, without even looking at the harvest before him — his fears struggling and fluttering within his poor little body far more than his wings did without — as he flew straight home, without any fui'ther thoughts of pleasure. BEHIND THE SCENES. 6*7 at least for that day, to tell them all, with the graphic energy and eloquence of an eye and ear witness, of the terrible air- qiiake which had overtaken him as he was catering for their wants ; and now they must make up their minds to die of starvation, which was staring them all in the face. " On the other hand, the Bonze was not a little distressed and disappointed at the untoward result of his benevolent intentions ; but he consoled himself with the reflection, that the provisions would remain, or could be renewed, and that the poor bird's panic would pass away like a dream ; as all other things, whether for good or for evil, do pass in this ever-fleeting and never-pausing w^orld of ours. Accordingly, that same evening, a little before sunset, when all was calm and still, so that the very leaves seemed to sleep, he had the pleasure of seeing the poor blackbird come forth ; but this time he neither flew nor chirruped, but walked slowly and timorously, as if duty was reining in fear, till he came beneath the rose-bush, and beheld the unexpected treasure that awaited him ; and then he set up such a chii'ping and fluttering of wings as never was heard be- fore or since throughout all the realms of Blackbirdia and Thrushland : and fii-st he flew ofl" with the grapes ; then he re- turned for the bread; and finally for the sugar; which the Bonze took care should be renewed each day. So that, no doubt, now, among his family circle, when alluding to the won- derful manner he has got on in the world, he always dates his rise from that terrible airquake ! which, at the time, he thought had come to overwhelm him and his, with destruction. "And depend upon it, my dear Mrs. Dunbar," concluded I, with a smile, " we know quite as htile of the wherefore, freight- ing, and ultimate result of every blow that, for the time, pros- trates and appals us, as the poor blackbird did ; but as we do know that it is an all-wise and merciful Providence who directs every blow under which we smart, let us, at least, have suflicient faith to believe that they are not less fraught with present bene- volence, and our ultimate and preordained good, than was the 68 BEHIND THE SCENES. one under wliicli the poor blackbird so fearfully but foolishly- cowered. And who knows but, terrible and trying as all this now is, it may be but the beginning and working out of some great and signal future good to Edith ? " " Well, Murray, God in heaven grant it may be so ; and if it should; I shall think of your blackbird : but, at all events, as you truly say, all is God's will ; and as such we ought to en- deavour to bear it." "And, depend upon it, to endeavour stedfastly^ is to suc- ceed ; and, in hearing^ it is not figurative to assert, that we ac- tually do lighten our burden ; for patience is the greatest of all emollients. We all pray to be enabled to do God's will ; but there is another boon, quite as essential for us to ask, which is, to endure His will ; for our trials are not always of an active nature, demanding exertion and diligence from us ; they are often, very often, of a passive, heavy, and stagnant kind ; and these are always the most oppressive, not only because they appear to have taken root too strongly to be moved, but be- cause action, either of body or mind, is in itself relief, as it is a sort of pioneering away, however ineffectually, the obstacles by which we are surrounded. But w'hen the blow is overpowering, and God's hand is so heavy upon us that we cannot move, nor could we achieve anything if we did, then is it that w-e must pray to endure ; and when we learn to do so, we shall indeed find ' our strength is in sitting still ; ' we shall turn away our wrath from those poor tools — secondary causes — which, as long as we contend with them, are sure to prove a blistering oint- ment to all our trials, and we shall look alone to the '-great first cause least understood.^ Reason is an imperious Ajax dashed against the rock of its own arrogance, and consumed by the thunder which it has impiously attempted to defy ; but faith is an humble flower which meekly bows its fragile stem to let the storm pass over it ; and when it has passed, rises again, pure and uninjured. Look to this '■great first cause^ my dear Mrs. Dunbar, and then you will cease to arraign this Sir Piers BEHIND THE SCENES. 69 Moncton, Robert Vallory, and George Gilbert, the executors, or any other ephemeri ; but will know and feel that it is God's ■WILL that Glenfern should pass away fro n the Panmuirs, or, otherwise, it could not do so. And now," added I, removing Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' sealed packet from the little table where it had so long lain unopened, " I'll go and see Edith, as you say she is sitting up in her dressing-room, and will see me." " And I will go with you," said Mrs. Dunbar ; so giving her my arm, we left the room together. "We found Edith half sitting, half reclining upon a chaise lounge. As Dr. McAlpine had foreseen, the exhaustion of the body had relieved, or at least subdued the mental struggle, for she was outwardly calm ; a httle table with books and a lew hot-house flowers stood beside her ; a book was also open in her hand, upon which her eyes were fixed, and yet she was evidently not reading ; and Eos sat beside her with his head in her lap, and his large, brown, honest, melancholy eyes intently fixed upon her face. As we entered, she raised herself up to kiss her grandmother, and then extended her hand to me. By tacit consent we avoided ail al- lusion to the one thought uppermost in each of our hearts, and talked of the weather ! What would English, Irish, and Scotch people do without that dreary yet versatile and never-flagging subject — that national safety-valve, alike for all dulness and all dilemmas? This delightful fluctuation of barometrical con- versation had not lasted above ten minutes, when Mina entered, bearing a small basket filled with moss and peregrine falcon's eggs ; and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' compliments to Mrs. Dunbar, and Miss Panmuir, and he had himself been to the top of the Eagle's Cliff and Cedar Idris for them." '"'' Himself ! '''' echoed Mrs. Dunbar, looking at me; "do you believe that? — when Clooney McBean and Anty Norse, the best climbers and fcilcon hunters in the country, are afraid to venture among the crags, either of Cedar Idris, or the Eagle's CW] " To this appeal I made no other reply, than by taking up a little dropsical-looking edition of Johnson's Dictionary, and reading aloud — VO BEHIND THE SCENES. " Falcon, a small hawk trained for sport;" and then added, nonchalantl}^ — ^T3y-the-bye, Edith, here is a packet that has been lying below for you for some time ; I don't know whether it comes from the same perilous height* as those eggs ; but, I believe, it is from the same person." " Have the goodness to open it," said she, pushing it lan- guidly back into my hand. I obeyed by breaking the seals — within was a small volume of Tennyson's Early Poems, with "Donald Panmuir, Trinity Coll., Cambridge," written in the fly-leaf; but, beside, wa« an almost duodecimo volume of note paper, closely written, intended, doubtless, for a note ; but, much more like an essay. "What is it? "asked Edith. " I really don't know what it is," replied I, replacing the packet in her hand. She had no sooner glanced at her brother's well-known hand-writing, in the title-page, than a violent fit of hysterics was the result. I let these natural tears take their course for some time, and then said — " You had better read this note ; " — novel, 1 felt would be a more appropriate term for such a volume. "No, no," sobbed Edith; "I cannot; do you read it." " But it may not be intended for any eye but yours," rejoined I, hesitatingly. " Murray ! " said she, looking at me reproachfully, while a slight tinge of indignation suffused her cheek. These symp- toms appeared to augur a proper frame of mind wherewith to meet any advances from the enemy ; for such, as far as Edith was concerned, I could not but look upon this cold, calculating, subtle, highly intellectual, and as highly immoral, and totally heartless man to be. His voluminous effusion began by stat- ing, that the accompanying little book had been the last poor Donald had looked into, as it had been found on his pillow on the fatal morning of the boat race, — here ensued a sort of elo- BEHIND THE SCENES. Yl qiieiit funeral oration on his virtues, artfully interwoven with touchino' little reminiscences ; the whole drift of which was to hint, without the chimsy egotism of actual assertion, the high estimation in which the deceased held the writer of those lines, and the devoted friendship that had subsisted between them ; the friendship, indeed, death had interrupted ; the devotion must ever as a right, belong to all who could claim the slight- est affinity to his dear and ever-lamented friend ! — here was a subtle touch of inastercraft; the devotion, which might be con- sidered premature, and therefore impertinently energetic, if of- fered to one, was skilfully diluted by being pledged to all ! Surely there was -noihmg personal, offensive, or even covert in this ? Nevertheless, the style without becoming less pohshed, less stilted, or less studied, did become less general. The pro- nouns "you" and "I," occurred more frequently as the compo- sition (for such it evidently was) advanced ; till, imperceptibly — so imperceptibly that it seemed the most natural thing in the world — the "I" and the "you" gradually fused into "our!" it was -'■ Our grief I"*^ '■'• Our loss !'''' Then came a charming simile about the ephemeral acquaintances, began in smiles, which might, and probably did, end as quickly as a passing ray of summer sunlight; while those originating in the commin- gling tears of two great griefs, became at once the source and the current of a deep and ceaseless friendship ! It must be confessed that Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' elaborate production owed nothing to my " good emphasis and discre- tion ; " for it would be impossible for anything to be more slo- venly than my enunciation of it, or the manner in which I mouthed the whole ; not paying the slightest respect to even the most finely rounded periods ; or those portions of it evident- ly intended by him to be the most touching ; or, as he himself would most aptly have .expressed it, the most " telUngP Ne- vertheless, save at those passages where Edith was dissolved in tears at some direct mention of, or allusion to poor Donald, she hstened to it with involuntary interest, as the lights and shadows 72 BEHIND THE SCENES. on lier transparent cheek too plainly testified, coupled with an occasional, almost imperceptible irritation, at my uncongenial reading. When I had finished, and doled out to the last letter of the writer's name, and had leisurely refolded the effusion, she said, with a sigh, as she took it off the table where I had first laid it — " He writes well." " Too well," was my laconic rejoinder. "How, too well?" " In this way, that if he felt more, he could not express so much." " What ! then would you have been so cruel as to have withheld this precious book from me ? " said Edith, pressing it to her heart, w4th a tone of championship that would have amply gratified even Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' vr.nity, could he have seen and heard it ; and it would also have repaid him for the labour he had evidently bestowed upon his letter; for he was too great a magi in the black art of seduction, too deeply read in the grimoire of gallantry, not to know that to interest a woman's imagination is the shortest road to her heart." " Decidedly not," said I, in reply to her question ; " but I would not have profaned the sanctity of that memorial by one added syllable of my own. The eloquence of rhetoric is fluen- cy ; but that of deep feehng, depend upon it, is silence." " And yet, I don't know," said Edith, musingly, " people feel, that is, they show feehng so differently." " In which the heart only resembles other commercial em- poriums ; for it is not always those that make the greatest ex- ternal display which possess the largest stock within." " But he's very clever indeed, is he not? — that Mr. Ponson- by Ferrars?" put in Mrs. Dunbar. " Oh, very." And in order to finish the sentence, and express my own thoughts more tersely, I took up Mr. Kendell's volume on Antediluvian History, which I had given Edith, and turning to page 184, read aloud the following most true pas- BEHIND THE SCENES. 73 sage, which I should like to see inscribed in golden letters over all the doors of our colleges, and on those of every public and private school : — " How often are clever men discovered to be crafty ? Does it not sometimes happen, that men with enlarged understand- ings have narrow souls and selfish hearts ? Is it not a fact, that wise men are sometimes wicked ? — that they perpetrate their ills with sagacity — 'plate their sins with gold?' Everyone knows these truths ; but why are they so ? Simply because they have eaten of the tree of knowledge ; they have devoured information with a great appetite ; regarding knowledge as the end ; desiring to be clever, rather than to be good. The mis- chievous tendency of such a course is evident. It places the perpetrator in the position of ' that servant who knew his Lord's will, and prepared not himself, neither did according to his will (and who, therefore, shall be beaten with many stripes).' How wise, then, is the command : 'Ye shall not eat of it;' and if men do so, how certain their fall — a fall into a criminal neglect of the laws of order, propriety, integrity, and virtue. " Does not experience prove that this is just the course which the sensual appetites of men suggest ? It desires to separate itself from superior guidance, and to be left to its own control. It strives to prevent knowledge from exercising its salutary influence upon the lower affections. It would pei-siiade us that its only province is the head — that men are wise in many things, because they may happen to know something of a few, and so leave the heart untouched to mistake its way." " Now, this," added I, " is as true as the Gospel which it elucidates ; for it is this gorgeous illumination of the intel- lectual portion of man's nature, while the more important moral part is left in total darkness, for every vice to stumble through — that is the real curse of our age. Tell to any one the most atrocious traits of character, or blackest deeds of a person who has succeeded in the world, and the reply is nearly invariably — " ' Oh ! but they are very clever ! ' 4 Y4 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Which is as though, in animadverting upon the personal ughness of a man, you should be reproved, and answered by the assertion — " ' Yes ; but, then, he is such an exemplary character, and such an exalted Christian !' In short, cleverness, now-a-days (that is, intellectual pre-eminence), seems to be considered as a sort of mundane Atonement which redeems men from every sin, and blots out every crime ! Whereas, spiritually speaking, it in reality aggravates each, and renders both unpardonable ; for, though ignorance may, like charity, ' cover a multitude of sins,' verily, those ' who know the right, and yet the wrong pursue,' can have no claim on, and, therefore, no hope of mercy." " But, surely," said Edith, " you do not think that goodness and cleverness are incompatible ? " " Far from it ; on the contraiy, I maintain that the highest order of intellect is always based upon goodness ; for it has been well said, that ' a man may be great by chance, but never good by chance.' It might be very clever, for instance, to begin building one's house downward, from the upper story, and would doubtless arrest the attention, and excite the admiration, of the wayfarers ; but, at the same time, it would be wofully insecure and unstable for all who ventured their persons, or their property, in an edifice thus constructed, and begun at the wrong end. And even as vanity renders beauty less attractive, by making it ridiculous, so vice, in my opinion, renders genius itself contemptible." " There is no one, Murray, whose opinion I would sooner defer to, than yours," rejoined Edith ; " and yet, it seems to me that you are unusually severe, and, therefore, perhaps, a little unjust to this Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars." I instantly perceived the impolicy of such an error, as my object was to guard her against him, and by such a course, I could only convert her woman's nature into a partisan ; so I hastened to reply that I had been speaking generally, and not BEHIND THE SCENES. '76 of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars in particular. But, unfortunately, thanks to my own gaucherie^ the spark had fallen upon the train I had been trying to quench, as Edith was now evidently thinking of this man and his letter ; for she looked almost tim- idly up in my face, as she said — " But there must be good in him, or Donald would not have been his friend ; and there is no doubt of his being clever, as he carried off all the honours at Cambridge." " Merit," said I, stupidly (for I was again committing the very same blunder, with which I had so recently reproached my- self), " consists not so much in attaining honours, as in deserving them." " Well, but," said she, with a relaxation of the mouth, that almost amounted to a smile, " that sort of honours must, at least, be deserved by the talent which obtains them." " Who knows ? " retorted I, as I rose to wish her and Mrs. Dunbar good-bye ; for I found that my fears of this man were outstripping my discretion, and so I thought I had better leave them to digest the hints I had already dropped. " Who knows, perhaps there may be a royal road to climbing the tree of knowledge, as there is to ascending Cedar Idris, and the Eagle's Cliff — a ladder made of other men's backs and brains, perchance. But you are looking so much better, Edith, that I hope in a day or two you will be able to take a turn round the lawn with me." " Oh yes ! to-morrow," said she, putting her handkerchief to her eyes, " I shall be able to go to Amy Verner's, if you will drive me and grandmamma there." I merely nodded a silent assent as I left the room, for I could not have uttered it in words, as, the next day but one, the sale of, and at, Glenfern was to take place ; and it had been agreed, in order to be out of the way of it, that Edith and Mrs. Dunbar should go to the little inn, till the former was sufficiently recovered to remove to London, whither the Arch- deacon, full of his matrimonial schemes, had insisted upon their ultimately going. t |tto aiilr t\}t <§m1iilt SECTION IV. THE SALE. "I tell you this man went down to his house justified rather than the other.'" — Zuhe siii. 9. " Honour the Lord with thy substance." — Prov. iii. 9. Archdeacon Panmiiir, who had breakfasted an hour earlier than usual, on Thursday, the 24th of August, 18 — , the morn- ing of the sale at Glenfern, was the first in the auction-room, decorously adorned in the blackest of sables, agreeably relieved by the whitest possible of handkerchiefs. The latter, however, was not called into requisition till the advent of Kirkby the auc- tioneer ; for upon ni}^ arrival the reverend gentleman shook hands with me in as quiet and unconcerned a manner as if it had merely been a hunting morning, and he was waiting for the rest of the meet ; but when the appraiser entered, things naturally assumed a more business-like appearance, the snowy kerchief was passed across his eyes, and Samuel Panmuir said in a voice wherein solemnity (at a moment's notice, as the play- bills have it) kindly took the part of sorrow — " A sad business this, Mr. Kirkby." " Very sad, indeed sir; don't think that in the whole course of my j9ro-fession* I ever officiated under more painful circum- stances." * Every occupation now-a-days, from shooting one's fellow-creatures at so much per diem, in a scarlet coat, to sweeping a street in a ragged one, is by the employe, called " a profession." Amen. BEHIND THE SCENES. 77 And so saying, Mr. Kirkby turned to the sideboard (for it was in the dining-room that the sale was to commence), and slightly tapping with his j^ro-fessional hammer, to have certain sample bottles of wine more compactly placed by the servant who was arranging them, so as not to occupy so much space, next proceeded with his own orange-coloured silk pocket-hand- kerchief to flip the dust off of the splendidly-carved altar table and chairs, which were to be the first lot put up, and upon which the Archdeacon steadily kept his eyes, till his attention was diverted by the influx of vehicles and conveyances of every de- scription, from the family coach down to the rattling post-chaises and shooting ponies, which now began to crowd the lawn, and throng the avenues and every other approach to the house. Foremost in the van was a yellow post-chaise, with red wheels and a blue post-boy, which now swang round the sweep of the lawn, rattled past the windows, and stopped at the hall door, and from which alighted the two executors, Messieurs Vallory and Gilbert — highly respectable men, both of them, in the Eng- lish acceptation of the word, for they were emiuently wealthy, being partners in the great Liverpool firm of Vallory, Gilbert, and Vallory; but Gilbert was by far the most respectable of the two, being a shrewd, hard man — hard as his own cash ; who had never lost, lent, ov foolishly spent a shilhng in the whole course of his Hfe. Not so Robert Vallory ; had not the capital been originally his, he never would have been the senior partner of such a firm ; for it was supposed that he had given more thou- sands in helping his fellow-creatures than he had ever risked in commercial speculations. Nevertheless, strange as it might ap- pear to some, and to none more so than to George Gilbert, it would seem that he had invested these lavished thousands to good purpose, for he prospered even in worldly mattei-s ; and his son, who was but a sleeping partner in the house, was an M. P. among the few fitted to be such. For in a country like Eng- land, where property is the only thing legislated for, or that finds protection from our statutes, civil or penal, it is fitting that YS BEHIND THE SCENES. it should be represented by capitalists ; and indeed there is also another reason, namely, that the high-toned virtues "which chi- valry originated, and the practice of which our forefathers con- sidered as the only charter by which they could claim and re- tain the title of Gentleman are now chiefly monopolized by the merchant-princes of England. Towards Edith's father, at the outset of his life, Robert Yal- lory had exercised one of those munificent humanities, of a pecuniary nature, upon which men bestow that portion of ad- miration which consists in wonder ; and then set it aside, like the other limited acknowledged wonders of the world, to be oc- casionally talked of, but never imitated ; doubtless, for fear it should cease to be a wonder ; though the monetary part of the obligation had long been repaid, the transaction had rendered Muir Panmuir and Robert ValWry firm friends for life ; for it is only in bad, barren natures, that the golden seed of gene- rosity, produces the rank, poisonous weed of ingratitude. We generally find that men's moral nature has an antitype in their physical, or exterior appearance, even Avhere beauty in- tervenes, to dazzle and mystify the judgment. Still, evil pas- sions cast their dark shadows athwart its brightness, in the silhouette of a bad expression. Nothing could be more strongly exemplified than this rule was in the two partners ; in Vallory there was, as it were, a shining out of the whole* man ; in the large, clear blue-eye, honesty and kindness beamed co-equally on the high open forehead ; worldhness had traced no crooked indentures, — time had found and left it fair ; and the white locks above it were so silvery bright, that they looked as if the recording angel, in his haste to return to heaven to register Robert's good deeds, had merely dropped a few feathers from his wings, as an earnest of their future meeting. On his cheeks the glow of health still lingered, though tempered with life's au- tumnal ray ; the teeth, were also remarkably white ; and there was a mixture of benevolence and precision about the mouth, which truly typified the equal balance of his character. His BEHIND THE SCENES. 79 dress and appearance were those of an aristocratic country gen- tleman, both being' clean and neat to a peculiarity ; and with- out being fat, there was something large and portly in his whole person. His hands were exceedingly beautiful, and thorough- bred, and quite looked their vocation, that of giving fully and amply ; for we maintain it, there is quite as much physiognomy in a hand, as there is in a face ; — look at some hands ; and you will see, that they can only scrape and take, but cannot give. George Gilbert, on the contrary, had remarkably small, sunken, unquiet, grey eyes ; which, however they might take in the light of others, emitted none of their own ; the forehead was high to a deformity, and appeared still more so, from his being bald ; his hair, which had been originally red, was now extremely thin, and from being nearly gi*ey, looked exactly like a well-amalgamated mixture of rhubarb and magnesia. His features were handsome, though somewhat too sharp, and dis- figured by a scorbutic eruption, for his blood was as poor as his spirit. It was curious to see anything so thin, with sufficient of the vital principle in it for locomotion ; and as he moved to and fro, he gave one the idea of ha\nng sent his flesh and blood to be replenished, and walking in his bones, till they came back. His costume consisted of a sort of muddy evaporated-looking pair of pepper-and-salt trousers, with varnished tipped boots of the same colour ; he wore a white hat, with a black crape band round it ; and an uncomfortable-looking, lanky, black mackin- tosh ; which altogether gave him the appearance of having been a failure under the well-intentioned frictions of the Humane Society. His gloves were also of a grey motley colour, and of some webby elastic texture, which seemed to be endowed with equal powers of resistance, against shrinking and stretching. In his hand he carried a small, thin, yellow cane, with an indige- nous crook at the top of it, which he kept continually knocking against his under teeth, as if to test their soundness ; or perhaps it might have been, to let no unguarded word escape his lips in spite of them. 80 BEHIND THE SCENES. All the neighbours now, for twenty miles round, began to pour in ; and, to their cj-edit be it spoken, all^ without a single exception, had come with the benevolent intention of purchas- ing, according to their means, some one of the Lares and Pe- nates of the young orphan and the aged widow, in order to re- store it to them ; so that they might, at least, have some old familiar objects about them to give their exile, wherever it might be, a little look of Home ! And presently a spruce tilbury, with a thoroughbred, fine- headed, curved-necked, high-stepping horse, gi-oomed to perfec- tion, its satiny coat only distinguishable from its plain brown leather harness by its superior lustre, swept past the windows; and Tim, who was in waiting at the hall-door, took the reins and jumped in as soon as his master and Mr. Cecil Trevylian hjjd alighted from it. There was, in the superiority of this chef d ''(Buvre of Adams's, among the other antiquated and lumber- ing vehicles, a sort of practical impertinence that the very shooting-ponies (though not made to draw — even inferences) must have been sensible of; for even the plain brown harness, with no attempt at ornament, beyond the two small black crests in relief on the blinkers, were, but what they seemed, another of those numerous editions of " The devil's darling sin — pride, that apes humility." The two cantabs were in deep mourning of the most unexcep- tionable cut and texture ; and yet, although Mr. Ponsonby Fer- rars' lachrymatory cambric, and that of the Archdeacon, seemed to keep up a sort of little-go emulation betwen them in the as- siduous manner in which they were applied to their respective owner's eyes, poor Trevylian had monopolized the little feeling that fluctuated between them — at least so I judged, from the circumstance of his never once looking in the glass to see whe- ther the tears were in his eyes, though surrounded by mirrors of all sizes and dimensions, which had been indiscriminately BEHIND THE SCENES. 81 placed upon the different tables ; and when a beauty — and more especially a male beauty — neglects to consult anything in the shape of a looking-glass of which even the smallest bird's- eye view is attainable, it may safely be concluded that the feel- ing which occasions this strange and very unwonted omission must be of a most genuine and engrossing nature. At all events, where a dandy is concerned, it is the only way in which one can "hold the mirror up to nature." The crowd now became dense almost to suffocation ; yet, like the imnache hlanc of Henri Quatre, were the white kerchiefs of the Archdeacon and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars to be ever seen flut- tering in the thickest of the melee ; and I could not but think, that if they continued to do so, Mr. Kirby's pro-fessional skill would be as much puzzled by their supposed signals as our Third Richard's guilty fears were by the imaginary " two Rich- monds" he saw in the field. Just as this thought came across me, I perceived Jacob Jacobs trying to make his way through the crowded doorway, — which, having his left arm still in a sling, and walking with a stick, was no very easy task ; and I was about to step forward to offer him my assistance, when the Archdeacon with one hand caught my arm, while with the other he clutched, in the most undignified and unsentimental manner, the snowy handkerchief which usually he waved so lightly and gracefully as if merely mildly cautioning and ex- postulating with the flies to keep their distance. '• There, there ! " cried he, convulsively — " there is that d — d Jew (Heaven forgive me !) — I told you so ; I knew his illness was all a sham ; and that he'd be here to defraud the widow and the orphan as much as possible." " Let us hope not;" said I, breaking fi'om him, in order to make my way towards the vituperated Israelite, " more than we are all going to despoil them ; for a sale of this sort is indeed a terrible spoliation." Samuel Panmuir lifted up his hands, and shook them as if he had been anathematizing the whole of the ten tribes ; nor 4* 82 BEHIND THE SCENES. did he desist till his eyes fell upon Mr. Gilbert's lank macintosh, which seemed to act as a slimy sedative to his irritated nei'ves and polemical susceptibilities, and restore him in some degree to his normal state of pompous propriety. I at length effected a passage towards Jacobs ; and a very few minutes after we had exchanged greetings, Mr. Kirkby as- cended his ^ro-fessional rostrum, where not content with dra- ping the now vacant mantle of the immortal George Robins so gracefully and worthily around him, he appeared also to have evoked the charlatanic shade of that great petty-larcener of sen- timent, Lawrence Sterne ; for it would have been impossible to have looked more maudlingly than he did at the assembled crowd, previous to his opening oration, had we been all a set of dead asses instead of living bipeds. Lucian makes Minos, or Rhadamanthus (?), in his "Vision of Hades," hit upon the sub- tle torment — combining at once the spirit of retributive justice and the refinement of cruelty — of setting the spirits of the de- parted to perform all such tasks and occupations as were most alien from and repugnant to their tastes and actions while on earth ; so that in the event of the same dynasty still continuing in the lower regions, there can be no doubt that the Reverend or irreverend (?) Lawrence is at " these presents'^ so fully em- ployed in the exercise of all the domestic virtues — such as " lov- ing and cherishing" his wife, and providing for and taking care of his family — that he pays no more attention to Marias and defunct donkeys than he used when on earth to his living wife and child ; and that even " poor lieutenants" are as totally ne- glected by him as if he were the commander-in-chief and all the horse-guards rolled into one ; while the infinitely more illustri- ous George Robins is indefatigably employed in detecting and exposing every puff that inflates our globe, and finding funds for the payment of every property which is continually being knocked down to him, at the value he himself was wont to set upon their matchless merits. Be this as it may, Mi\ Kirkby, as soon as his emotion would allow him to speak, began by an- BEHIND THE SCENES. 83 noimcing to all who were then and there assembled, that it was " his painful — indeed, he might say, his most painful — duty, to offer that morning for sale, the lands, tenements, and messuages, also the personals and household furniture, of the late lamented Laird of Glenfern." Here the face of the Archdeacon and that of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars were partially hid within the folds of their handkerchiefs ; nor was it till the auctioneer specified indi- vidually the first lot he should ofter for their " liberal competi- tion," that their undivided attention seemed roused, and be- stowed upon him. " And now, ladies and gentlemen," continued Mr. Kirkby, pointing with his hammer to the finely-carved altar table and chairs, '' this first lot that I shall present to your notice is not only unique, I may fairly say throughout Europe, for its intrinsic beauty and worth, but derives an additional, I had almost said sacred value, from the circumstance of their late lamented owner having piously intended them as a gift to his parish church, nobly preferring to embellish a place of public worship, to self- ishly reserving them, as many might have done, and, indeed would have been quite justified in doing, for the decoration of their own private chapel. I feel, ladies and gentlemen, that it is absolutely giving them away ; but shall I, as a commence- ment, say £60 ? " " Seventy ! " cried the Archdeacon. "Eighty ! " from Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars. A bow, first to one and then to the other, from Mr. Kirkby ; when Jacob Jacobs stood forth, and stretching out his hand to- wards the auctioneer, as he bowed round the room generally to the assembled crowd, requested to be heard. " Rascal ! " muttered the xlrchdeacon ; unfortunately we have no Jews' Disabilities Bill here, and the fellow is on his own ground of chaftering and cheating." Utterly unconscious of this murmured panegyric, Jacobs, in a rich, clear, and admirably modulated voice, addressing him- self to Kirkby, said — 84 BEHIND THE SCI;NES. " I cannot but regret — a regret in which I feel sure that all now present will most fully and cordially participate — that this lot should ever have been offered for sale this day ; as you truly say, sir, the intentions of the late owner respecting it, impart to it a sacred character, which surely should have been in itself a suf- ficient guarantee against sacrilegious appearances here to-day. My creed, as I need not inform you, is not yours ; but as a wor- shipper of the ONE, SAME, TRUE, AND ONLY GOD, I CaUUOt allow any vessels, originally destined for His Temple, to be fur- ther profaned ; therefore, I herewith beg to purchase this lot for £85, and will myself present it to your Church at Glenfern, from whence, its original destination, it should never have been turned aside." As he finished speaking, and firmly deposited the bundle of notes on the auctioneer's desk, loud " Hear ! hears ! " clapping of hands, knocking of sticks against the floor, and cries of "Bravo!" "Well done Mosesf'' and other ejaculations of applause, ran round the room, in which even Mr. Kirkby, not to be out of the fashion, joined ; but, as he himself said, " busi- ness is "business, and he was sorry, therefore, to refuse Mr. Jacobs' offer, so handsomely made. But really, £85 was too little for a lot that in the natural course of events must have gone up to £300 or £400. " It is quite enough," said Jacobs, firmly, enforcing the as- sertion by knocking his stick somewhat energetically on the floor ; " quite enough for what every one will readily own should never have been here."^ * To show that I have invented nothing, and only added a few pounds to this Jew's Christian feehng, I subjoin the following facts, extracted some two years ago from a Lincoln paper ; where, it appears to me, the conduct of Mr. Benjamins, the real Simon Pure, is even more noble than the manner in which I have taken the liberty of stating it. "Would that many Christians would " go and do likewise :" — Liberality of a Jew. — At the sale of the valuable collection of the late Mr. C. Mainwaring, of Coleby, Lincoln, which has already extend- ed over nineteen days, a series of lots, ten in number, were catalogued for sale, and headed as having been intended for Hackthorne Church ; BEHIND THE SCENES. More and louder " Hear ! hears !" gave full assent to this ap- peal ; and Robert Vallory, making- his way through the crowd, and begging to shake hands with the honest Israelite, assured him that he, as the principal executor, after the feeling of gra- titude and admiration his truly liberal conduct had excited in him, would, so far from opposing, warmly second his noble and they consisted of an altar table, of Spanish mahogany, elaborately carv- ed, two splendid chairs, devotional stools, (fee, and cost the late pro- prietor nigh £300. The surprise of the public was great that these lots should be offered for sale, the intention of Mr, Mainwaring being so well known, and the name of the parish carved upon part of the furni ture; but the intended donor dying intestate, his executors ordered the sale of all his effects, without reserve. A lesson was however taught them on Thursday, by Mr. Benjamin Benjamins, a Jew broker of Lon- don. On lot 3122 being put up, Mr. Benjamins addressed the auc- tioneer, and said the lot now put up, together with the nine following ones, were intended by the late Mr. Mainwaring as a present to Hack- thorne Church, and he regretted, as he believed every one in that room did, that the articles had not been presented to the church, instead of being offered for sale that day. He therefore now begged to say that it was his intention to buy the whole, and present them himself to the Christian temple or church at Hackthorne, and he therefore asked the auctioneer to put up the ten lots in one. This proposal was received with much applause by the company, upon whom it came quite unex- pectedly. Mr. Legh, one of the coheirs, begged to be allowed to join Mr. Benjamins in his very handsome offer. The auctioneer, finding the company not averse to the proposal, put up the ten lots in one, and called on Mr. Benjamins to name his bidding. Mr. Benjamins then offered £10 for the whole, at which nominal sum the auctioneer paused, and said that it was out of character; but Mr. Benjamins replied that he had offered quite enough, for that the articles ought never to have been in the catalogue, and that it was discreditable to the parties who had permitted it, and he was sure that neither Christian nor Jew would oppose him, and that the auctioneer might knock the lot down to him as soon as he liked. This the auctioneer found was the case, and the hammer went down amidst loud cheers. Mr. Benjamins immediately handed over the order for their delivery to the vicar of the parish, and thus a Jew presented to a Christian church articles that otherwise would have produced a sum little short of £200. 86 BEHIND THE SCENES. This announcement was received with fresh acclamations, and Mr. Kirkby, as in duty bound, of course yielded to those in authority over him, and so resigned the table and chairs to their worthy purchaser ; while I felt so proud of my new ac- quaintance, upon whose integrity I could from the first have staked my existence, that to publicly associate myself with him in this the first flush of his triumph, I felt would almost amount to a species of vain egotism ; so I contented myself with bestowing upon him from the place w^here I stood, a look of re- spectful admiration, and reserving any more vivid expressions of both feelings till we should find ourselves alone. Meanwhile, how fared it with the Archdeacon ? Why, well, of course ; as it invariably does with those men who are exactly cut out for the precise times in which they live ; and such an one was the venerable the Archdeacon Panmuir ; for never was he known to lag behind in any popular movement ; that is, when the said movement had been carried ne7n. con., — for even the Reform Bill itself, under those circumstances, had had his support ; and it is not, perhaps, too much to affirm, that had the much dreaded Chartists of the memorable 10th of April, 1848, succeeded in emptying the Bank of England into their own pockets, and taking possession of Buckingham Palace, instead of so shamefully leaving the tents erected for the killed ! and wounded ! in the Tower of London, untenanted by one of their own or their adversaries' legions, the reverend gentleman might not only have become their champion, but their chaplain ! and have said grace before those who, otherwise, would have found none ! Consequently, on the present occasion, feeling that the carvings had for ever eluded his grasp, he wisely resolved y^Don gilding the opportunity which had presented itself of gaining — or at least of courting — a little popularity, and the former and the latter, most men, both in love and politics, deem synony- mous where the]/ are individually concerned ; and, being a dig- nitary of the Church, he naturally considered that he was the fittest person to represent its dignity. So, advancing some BEHIND THE SCENES. Si steps, with his right hand oratorically extended in a manner that could not fail to command universal attention, he, in " a neat and a'piyroiwiate speech,^'' addressed Jacob Jacobs, and express- ed — not, indeed, his gratitude (for with all his faults he was too much of a gentleman to stoop to the meanness of falsehood) but that of the parish of Glenfern — for his truly noble conduct that morning ; for " truly nohle conduct'''' was the cue, and there- fore he feared being out in his part if he modified it into any other expression. And such are the wonderful times in which we live, that, by the following morning but one, an account of the transaction, with the Archdeacon's speech in full, and innu- merable " Hear, hears," modelled upon Mrs. Primrose's jewels, in the family picture, — that is, as many as the artist could throw in for nothing, was at all the leading newspaper oflBces in Lou- den ; and, although the facts of Jacobs' conduct were duly chronicled, yet, somehow or other, there was such a wizard or magic light thrown over the whole affaii-, as to make it appear as if Archdeacon Panmuir had taken the initiative in this gen- erous proceeding, but how this was managed, Heaven, the rev- erend gentleman, and the printer's devil, only knew. The Archdeacon was scarcely reseated, and Mr. Kirkby was recommencing with a flourish of his badge of oflSce, whea his proceedings were again interrupted by a fresh arrival, in the person of a stout, florid, rather bald, open-countenanced, and evidently " weli-to-do^^ personage, in a dark brown surtout and purple cravat, who, holding up his finger to the auctioneer, as much as to say " Stop ! " next apologized for this interruption, and said he wished to know, upon the part of the Duke of Lid- desdale, whose agent he was, whether the house and furniture of Glenfern would not be sold altogether as they stood with the estate. " Certainly, sir ; I believe so," replied Mr. Kirkby, " pro- vided anything like an equal value can be obtained for the furniture, compared with what would have been realized by its sale in detail ; but Messrs. Vallory and Gibert, the executors, 88 BEHIND THE SCENES. are the proper pei-sons to apply to ; and, being here, I am sure will be happy to afford you every information on the subject." Whereupon Robert Vallory came forward, and bowing to the stranger, said, "Whom have I the pleasure of addressing ? " " My name is Tuffnell, sir, as I have just stated to this gen- tleman. I am agent to the Duke of Liddesdale ; and his grace, having heard of the sale of the Glenfern estate, wishes, if possi- ble, to purchase the house and furniture as they stand, in order to avoid the trouble of refurnishing, as he wants the places for a shooting-box." " The Duke of Liddesdale ! " repeated Vallory ; " I was un- der the impression that he was still a minor, and being brought up in some strange way at a German university.'' "No longer a minor," repHed the other, "for he is now near- ly three-and-twenty; but he is still abroad, and has been edu- cated chiefly at Bonn ; for the Duchess, his mother, had peculiar ideas about education, which, from her long widowhood, and the equally long minority of her son, she has had ample oppor- tunities of carrying out ; and I must say, her plan appears to have succeeded, as far as having made of the young Duke a thoroughly excellent member of society." " Oh, indeed ! — Well, I'm sure, I should be very glad, then, that he became the possessor of Glenfern ; but, you see, our object is to get as much as we possibly can for the furniture and personals, as from them will be the only benefit Miss Panmuir will derive from this unfortunately compulsory sale." " Well, I think I may say, without exceeding my warrant, that his grace would be the last man to take any advantage, or even allow any advantage to be taken, under such circumstan- ces ; but no doubt this gentleman (turning to Kirkby) has a duplicate inventory of the furniture, wines, personals, &c. ; one specifying the original cost of each item, and the other that at which they were to be offered for sale ; and it appears to me that the fairest way, and one that cannot fail to meet any and every objection, would be to take the former^ and give the exact sum the total amounts to." BEHIND THE SCENES. 89 "Very handsome, indeed ; nothing can be more so," said Vallory ; " and as all here, I feel very sure, had but one wish in attending this melancholy sale, namely, that of benefiting the orphan sister of the late laird of Glenfern, I have no doubt there will not be any opposition offered to this arrangement." Nor was there, except on the part of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, who, with a sharp " D — n it ! " exclaimed " But that's not fair, as I, for one, wished to purchase many things which I know Miss Panmuir must have valued, in order to give them back to her." "A very laudable intention, sir," replied Mr. Tuflfnell, calm- ly ; " and there is no earthly reason why it sliould not be car- ried out ; therefore, if any friend of the family's will have the kindness to mark off in the inventory those articles which were more especially prized by their possessors, theirs they shall still remain." A murmur of applause ran round the room; Mr. Cecil Trevylian actually exerted himself to such a pitch, as to say in a distinct and articulate voice, " Well, that is devilish handsome, 'pon my soul ! " As an accompaniment to w^hich, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars kept vehemently pulling his under lip ; till suddenly he cried out, with a sardonic giin on his face, and a cold sneer in his voice, as if he thought he had found a plan to baffle the agent at last— " And pray, may one be allowed to inquire what is the sum at which the furniture and personals are valued ? " " Have I your permission, gentlemen ? " asked Mr. Kirkby, appealing to Mr. Tuffnell, and Robert Vallory. " Oh, certainly," said they both in a breath. Whereupon the auctioneer, carelessly flipping back the mar- ble-papered cover of the inventory book, read aloud — " The Lands^ Tenements^ and Messuages of the Estate of Glenfern, £42,000. The Furniture, including Pictures, Plate, and Wines^ £8,413. 90 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Nine thousand ! " vociferated Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars. " Pardon me, sir," interposed Kirkby ; " bat you forget tbat competition has been abandoned ; and that Glenfern and all its appurtenances have, by the consent of the executors and all present, become the property of his grace the Duke of Liddes- dale." Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had not forgotten anything of the kind ; or he never would have made so munificent a bid ; on the contrary, it was the recollection of this safeguard of impos- sibility which had induced him to do so ; but this sterling offer on his part had had such an effect upon the weak nerves of his poor friend, Trevyhan, who had a much truer knowledge and clearer perception of the clever man's pecuniary^ than of his mental resources ; that he faded back into his normal state of languor, as he whispered to Ferrars — " Good gwacious, my dear fellow ! are you mad ? Where the deuce would you have got nine thousand pounds ! I don't thuppothe if we were all sold up at Twinity, including our meerschaums, we should realithe halfthethum!" " You are such a d — d ass, Trevylian ! " was the compli- mentary rejoinder. " At all eventh, my dear Ferrars," retorted the other, good- humouredly, "I'm an ath who often furnish you with a. pony. ^^ " My dear fellow ! you alarm me ! " said Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, seizing his companion's hand and feeling his pulse : " I really fear you are becoming clever ! " " Oh, no ! only a case of contact ; like the Persian simile you and Benaraby are always quoting about : I'm not the wose, but I've lived near it ; " and I'm not clever, only I've hved near you ; and you know you're devilish near, — eh, old fellow ? " and he illustrated the fact, by a poke in Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' ribs. " And you far, very far, from being in the critical state I thought you," sneered that gentleman over his shoulder, at his handsome friend. BEHIND THE SCENES. 91 I was SO much amused at this colloquy that I should have continued to listen to it, had not my attention been arrested by seeing the Archdeacon shufHe up to Mr. Tuffnell ; for, it ap- peared, there was still balm in Gilead for the former in the reflection that Glenfern had at all events passed into ducal hands ! He now wished to know from Mr. Tufthell, when the Duke might be expected at Glenfern. Mr. Tuffnell really didn't know. " Because," persisted Samuel Panmuir, " if his Grace thinks of coming at all this season, however late, I would make a point of remaining, at any inconvenience to myself, to give him the co,rte du imys^ and point out all the best haunts of the grouse." " You are very good, sir," replied the agent ; " but it would be a thousand pities you should put yourself to any inconveni- ence, seeing the time of the Duke's coming is so very uncertain ; if, indeed, he should come at all this year ; for, as I before told you, he is abroad just now, and therefore I'm sure he would feel annoyed that there should be any unnecessary hurry in the fomily's removing from Glenfern." " Oh ! thank you," said the Archdeacon curtly ; "but they have removed, they went two days ago ; and as soon as Miss Panmuir's health will admit of her making the journey, they will return to London with me, where my clerical duties demand my presence; but perhaps at some future period, when his Grace is not here, he would kindly allow my fair cousin to re- visit these scenes of her childhood, to which she is naturally much attached ? " And this coarse and clumsy compromise of Edith's womanly dignity, the reverend gentleman thought a masterly stroke to- wards harpooning the ducal coronet for her, which he had already so vividly sketched into his aerial fabrics. Mr. Tuffnell said he was sure the Duke would have much pleasure in doing so. Whereupon, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars (for the two Cantabs had joined the group) asked with one of his most bitter sneers. 92 BEHIND THE SCENES. if the Duke would not rather prefer being there, when Miss Panmuir came. " Perhaps he might, sir," said Mr. TufFnell, sternly ; " but being a gentleman^ the Duke of Liddesdale has too much re- spect for the sex, ever to obtrude himself upon any lady, and still less to presume to make free with the name of an absent one.'' Another, but this time a silent sneer, was the only reply the clever man vouchsafed to this well-merited reproof; while his handsome companion, arranging his hat with both hands as scrupulously as if he had been poising the equilibrium of a world, or adjusting the balance of power between two nations, said in a voice between a yawn and a sigh — "Egad ! I know I wish I was Duke of Liddesdale, and she should never leave the place at all." Whereat there was a general laugh ; when Mr. Tuffnell again came to the rescue, saying — " But the young lady, sir, as this gentleman will tell you " (turning to Kirkby,) — " there are two words to every bargain, — she might not consent." " Oh, hang it ! every girl liketh every fellow who ith a duke." And having uttered this truly national axiom — the upshot of all our systems of education — Mr. Trevylian caressed his off whisker ; while the agent, who appeared to be a bit of a wag, rejoined — "Or I suppose if they don't like the '■fellow'' they like the duke ! Is that what you mean ? " " Ah ! yeth, exactly ; that's the thort of thing I do mean." " Do come away, you are such a d — d ass, Trevylian ! " said his amiable friend, pulling him away ; but the other, sud- denly stopping, lisped out — " Now ath they thay you're tho clever, Ferrars, I wish you'd jSnd thomething new to say to me ; for you've told me that tho BEHIND THE SCENES. 93 often, that 'pon my word it sticks in my throat like one of Mother Prescott's stale mutton pies." The laugh was now turned against Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars ; and, as like all persons little scrupulous in hurting the feelings of others, he could not bear the slightest approach to a jest at his own expense, he left his companion to follow as he listed, and stalked away with the evanescent rapidity of a phantom. The Archdeacon then infoi'med the dispersing crowd, that he should preach his farewell sermon at Glenfern Church on the following Sunday. This announcement did not appear to awaken any poignant feelings of regret among the audience ; and, indeed, the sermon itself, which I afterwards had the bene- fit of hearing, left " their withers equally unwrung," although it contained a sort of left-handed comphment to Jacob Jacobs ; as in a sweeping animadversion upon the Jewish people in general, and the people called Jews in particular, he treated Jacobs as the exception that proved the rule ; and as Amy Verner truly said, he could not preach a sermon, even w^re it about Pei-sians or potatoes, without having a fling at the "Papists." In allud- ing to the new altar-pieces, he warned them against the black and Popish heresy of worshipping carved images, which of course was highly necessary and strikingly appropriate for a congregation of rigid, and therefore already sufficiently intole- rant, Presbyterians ! wo to the theologians of the Samuel Panmuir school ! for, as Sidney Smith truly observes, " the man who places religion upon a false basis, is the greatest enemy to religion." But to return to the auction room, where " my occupation was gone." As there was nothing to be bought, I left Mr. Tufi"nell concluding his business with the executors and Kirkby, and prepared to return to the "Panmuir Arms;" and just as the Archdeacon got into his carriage, I offered my arm to my new friend Jacobs ; and as we descended the glen together, slightly incommoded by the dust from the reverend gentleman's 94 BEHIND THE SCENES. orthodox chariot wheels, I thought to myself, as I looked at my companion — verily ! " THIS MAN WENT DOWN TO HIS HOUSE JUSTIFIED, RATHER THAN THE OTHER." NOTICE. Reader ! it is now four years since you and I parted at the sale at Glenf^rn, consequently you have had time to rest — / to grow more weary ; but also to bind up my gleanings, which I shall present you in a few more of what good Mrs. Verner calls parables ; having become acquainted, again to quote from that good lady, with the following ^'•facs" partly from Edith Pan- muir's own mouth, partly from observation, and also from other and various sources. I have thought it better to drop the egotisms of the personal pronoun, and amalgamate the events into a narrative wherein I shall only occasionally mention my- self as one of the actors, in scenes which have been going on stirringly ; though you and I, friend reader, have so long lin- gered by the way — but what of that ? our business is not for that reason one whit the less important ! Horace, you know (or if you don't, I now tell it to you), accompanied Maecenas on most pressing business, and yet he loitered by the way, and confesses the fact rather vauntingly than otherwise : — " Hoc iter ignavi divisimus allius ac nos Praecinetis unum, minus est gravis appia tardis." But I have this signal advantage over Horace, namely, that if you, dear reader (which of course means the public at large, unnaturally compressed into the narrow hmits of an individu- al !) only become my Maecenas, I shall assuredly be minus nothing, and you I hope not much beyond a few leisure hours, and, it may be, a prejudice seized here and there, as contraband at the diflferent harbours of truth into which we shall have to sail. PAEABLE THE SECOND. SECTIOi^ I. " Ye are not under the law."— G^aZ. v. 18. Manhood, -with growing years, "brings change of mind; Seeks riches, friends ; with thirst of honour And all the meanness of ambition knows; Prudent and wary, on each deed intent, Fearful to act, and afterwards repent. Translated from Horace's '■'■ De Arte Poetica.'''' " Adite (populus) hsec inquit susarion Malar sunt mulieres, veruntamen O populares Hoc sine malo domum inhabitere non licet." Stolico. Well, hy Jove ! my dear fellow, I congratulate you, for your * First Love ' was a decided hit ! " cried Mr. Cecil Trevylian, bursting into Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' chambers at the Albany? where that gentleman sat in a high-backed Elizabethan arm- chair, his heels upon the mantelpiece (for if Brother Jonathan goes a-head more than we do, young England goes a-heel quite as much as he does) ; a Turkish tobacco bag hung over one knob of the chair, and himself, like Jupiter on Olympus, envel- oped in clouds equally of his own making, — and he being also the thunderer of his peculiar sphere, like the other tonans, he too was surrounded by satellites. A wonderful man ! was Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, so he himself thought, and so he said, till 96 BEHIND THE SCENES. the saying became an echo, and the echo at length passed for a fact — as most echoes do in time. In the short space of four years, he had got into Parliament for the borougli of Frothing- ton ; written four fashionable novels, three weighty articles for the Edinburgh ; composed many speeches, wbicb though nature had denied him the power of sx>eaMng^ cleverness gave him the power of puffing ; so that when they appeared in the papers — like a plain woman in society who is the model of good dressing — they did not fail to be talked about, and cited as a precedent : nor did he himself; which was the point for which he steered; being well aware, that to he talked about, is to arrive at the balf-way house to the Temple of Fame, where the most indefa- tigable traveller on that steep aud slippery road, may then take his ease at his inn; for few are sufficient connoisseurs in repu- tation to distinguish between notoriety and celebrity. But his great card had been a pamphlet containing a severe philippic, not to say lampoon, against the ministry ; as all ministrys know — whatever else they may not know — that these sort of bro- chures in the political world, are equivalent to the placards " FOR SALE," which are constantly to be seen pasted upon some of those neglected vehicles, or other conveniences which cumber the causeways about the environs of the Metropolis. Accordingly, the ministry took the hint; and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was inducted into a commissionership of cauliflowers, or some other equally imj^i'ovise and important little sinecure of a thousand a year. And then it was quite charming to see the amiable candour with which he denounced his own superficial view of the great Tobacco-pipe Question, upon which he had so ignorantly vituperated the incapacity of the Legislature ; and how gracefully he unsaid every word he had said in the pam- phlet ; and the scales having fallen from his eyes into the hands of Justice ! how he found that all the members of the adminis- tration, to a man, were Solons and Solomons. His schemes, or rather scheme, for it was a universal whole — his scheme, then, for getting on, though elaborate and complicated as the ma- BEHIND THE SCENES. 97 •cliineiy of Charlemagne's great clock, he knew would be noth- ing, on that very account, without a mainspring ; that main- spi'ing, his intelligence soon discovered must be a clique, for union is strength ; but to make the pivot impregnable, he re- solved its rivet should be the Press — which he was well aware, in point of occult machinations and omnipotent . power from which there is no appeal, was to England in the nineteenth, what the Inquisition and the Council of Ten were to Venice in the fifteenth century, with perhaps the more pojDular and clap- trap motto of " Fiat Lux ; " but it is nevertheless only the light of a dark lantern ; convenient indeed for discovering treasure, but equally so for concealing iniquity, as all light must be, whose shining, or eclipse, depends solely on the caprice of the individuals who wield it. As a quack practitioner, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars knew the constitution of his patient, the Press, thoroughly, having felt its pulse so often ; and was therefore well aware, that with a series of good dinners, there are few things that it cannot digest ; and by mysterious process of typical electro-biology, get the public to do so too, till the latter, when told by the former, that black is white ; or murder is benevolence ; or vice is virtue ; or any other chimera ; — religiously believe them to be such. And as the English call themselves a thinking people (?), each individual has his thinking machine, that is, his or her particular news- paper, magazine or review, which decides every question for them, and so saves Mr. Bull collectively from the trouble of forming an opinion of his own. Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars and his clique reaped such a golden harvest from the fabrication of these thinking machines, that they kept up a great pother about removing the taxes on knowledge or stamp duties ; because then there would be, if possible, a still greater sale than there already was for these thinking machines, on which they generously lavished so much virtue, morality, and good feeling, that they had nre6'r/2^ eminent position stilly when I shall, in the course of time, have succeeded in climbing as far as a Secretary at War, or Chancellor of the Exchequership, or some little molehill of that sort." The covered sarcasm of this speech, and the imperturbable sang froid with which it was uttered, elicited a roar of laughter from the whole party, and more especially from Mr. Caesar Coakington, in which Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was, in self-defence, obliged to join. " Well, but to return to my eminent position," said the lat- ter, attempting a postscript to his late compulsory laugh, "any- thing in my gift, my dear Benaraby, shall be at your service. You have only to choose what it shall be." " Thank you for nothing, said the Gallipot," asided Mr. Carlo Dials, " Clearly so," laughed the embryo Lord Chancellor. " Oh ! thank you ; any little thing," replied Benaraby, with one of his most serious and earnest looks ; " I'm not proud — why should I be ? Epaminondas, after his victory over the Mantineans, accepted a commissionership of sewers at Thebes ; and I, after mine over the Manchesterians, am quite ready to superintend the Board of Scavengers in London, or do anything else to ' make myself generally useful,' as all servants out of place say, who never mean to do anything in place." 5* 106 BEHIND THE SCENES. Another laugh followed this speech, and, at its close, Trevy- lian, hke a child asssiduously returning to a forbidden subject, or a dog incontinently bringing to light objects especially in- tended to be buried in oblivion, cried out, — " Oh ! while I think of it, I wanted to ask you, Ferrars, who that devilish good-looking fellow was that came into the Pan- muirs' box last night ? " " Good looking ! " almost screamed Mr, Ponsonby Ferrars, his eyes flaming, and he wasting at least an ounce of Latakai on the carpet by his ineflfectual eflbrts to fill his pipe without looking either at it or the tobacco bag. " Well ! if thafs your idea of good looking, 1 thought him the d — dest snob I'd ever seen 1" " You don't mean Lord Ernest Clare, do you ? " said Mr, Caesar Coakington to Trevylian. " Oh no ! I know him. Besides, he''s fair, and this man is dark, and, I think, particularly gentlemanlike, though Ferrars calls him a snob ; he's anything but that, though there is some- thing peculiar about him certainly ; though what it is I can't tell." " I'll tell you," said Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, first sending forth such a tremendous blast from his pipe, as would have quite done for King Jammie's ' counter blast,' " his peculiarity is, that he appears to be a cross-breed between an English Methodist Parson and an Itahan Contadina. " I own I can't trace the Methodist parson, but there is some- thing foreign about him certainly, at least, wri-English, though very slightly so ; and people do discover such extraordinary, out-of-the-way Hkenesses for a fellow. Now, there's Lady Bab Farington says that / look a something between a persecuted primitive Christian, and a disconsolate modern dandy." " You may kiss the book and swear to it ! my dear fellow," laughed Mr. Caesar Coakington, pressing a little volume to Trevylian's lips, which happened to be a small pamphlet en- titled, " The Toilet of Beauty," which Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had been that morning studying. BEHIND THE SCENES. 107 " I think," said Benaraby, " I know the man you mean, if he is tall, slender, with intensely black or rather purple hair, that seems to have a sort of rich hixuriant bloom upon it like a cluster of Abyssinian grapes ; rery white forehead ; straight nose ; dark eyes, whose fire seems quenched in diamond water; a tinge of colour like an eastern sunset, that is red beneath, with darkness stealing over it ; very white teeth ; no moustache, but a dark and rather forked beard, a la Henri Trois ; small hands and feet ; and particularly graceful in his movements ? " " Prethithely ! the polithe might recognithe him from your portrait. Who ith he ? " " I've met him at several places lately. He's a Mr. Lancas- ter." " A son of Bell and Lancaster's, the education people, I sup- pose?" ha! ha'd Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, as if he had uttered the wittiest thing in the world, instead of a plagiarised bull ; and he then added, between two or three parenthetical whiffs, " Ah ! just the sort of fellow I could fancy constituting the delight of the Baker Street parties, and Beulah Spa pic nics." " As you have not yet appointed me Master of the Rolls, Ferrars, I have not matriculated in Baker Street, and, therefore, it is to me a terra incognita. I bid — Beulah, all my wander- ings having been on the other side Jordan, but I have met this Mr. Lancaster at some of the best places in town. The first house I saw him at was the Duchess of Diplomat's, and her grease^ as those graceless fellows the attaches call her, seemed quite to overwhelm him with attention. I've also met him at the Netherbys, and at York House." " You could not expect less of ' the aspiring blood of Lancas- ter,' " quoted Mr. C3esar Coakington, who was in the habit of occasionally taking out Shakspeare with him to poach on the extremest verge of a pun. " You astonish me 1 Benaraby," said Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, for half a second removing his pipe from his mouth. " It is a habit of mine, for we are in England, of which you 108 BEHIND THE SCENES. are a native^ I believe?" said that gentleman, with the most refreshing coolness, again levelling his tortoiseshell eclipse at Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars. " No, I don't mean you^'"' laughed the latter ; " for no one is ever astonished at anything you do. But I confess I am sur- prised to hear of your meeting such a snob as I contend this Lancaster is, at any decent place." Here Clarke, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' valet, brought in a note which, he said, Tim had brought, and to which he was to take back an answer. His master snatched it hastily off the salver, tore it open, and seemed to run his eye diagonally over it, so as to take in its contents with a sort of ocular jump, as it were; which contents were apparently not of the most pleasing or satisfactory nature ; for, biting his under lip sharply, he crum- pled it up, and flung it into the fire, and, disdaining the com- monplace aid of the poker, thrust it between the bars with the point of his slipper. " Thath not one of the acth of 'firtht love,' I hope, Ferrars," drawled Trevylian. " D — n first love ! " was the muttered reply, accompanied by a slight grinding of the teeth, and a strong clinching of the right hand. " Any answer, sir ? " asked Clarke, who had been solacing his impatience, by beating a scarcely audible homoeopathic devil's tattoo against the back of the salver, which he held tamboureen-wise. "Tell Tim to bring the cab round directly. No, the horses." " The horses, sir ? " " Yes, — no, — stop, — stay ! My horse only — I shan't want him." " Very good, sir." And so this admirable valet would have said of any of his master's proceedings, unless, indeed, his iniquity had taken the turn of not paying him his wages ; for there would be little BEHIND THE SCENES. 109 use in serving his satanic majesty unless there was the d — 1 to pay. " Well, ray dear fellows, I must leave you," said Mr. Pon- sonby Ferrars, rising; "for I'm obliged to go out." " Sorry to hear it, my dear Ferrars," said Mr. Benaraby, between a yawn and a sigh, as he stretched his left arm above his head, and the other down towards his right boot, " for the being obliged to go out is one of the very worst obligations which a ministry like ours, so recently formed, can be saddled with." " Ha ! ha ! ha ! Clearly .so ! " laughed Mr. Caesar Coaking- ton, taking in each hand a piece of the black ribbon to which his eye-glass was suspended, so as to make it whirl round like a teetotum or a politician ; for he wore a glass also, as a sort of outrider to his spectacles. " I say, Ferrars," cried Trevylian, calling after the former, as he was going into his bed-room to complete his toilet, " I'm devilish hungry, and I meant to have lunched with you when I came." "Well, can't you ring, and get something to eat; I believe — indeed I know — there is a cold guinea-fowl, for I did not touch it at breakfast." After he had answered the summons, Clarke soon again reappeared with the guinea-fowl, ably supported by a j!?d^e de foie gras ; and Trevylian's hunger becoming an epidemic, a lobster had to be sent for, though Mr. Carlo Dials, all in favour- ing them with a graphically-acted scene from one of his own books, loudly voted for pickled salmon ! "Pickled salmon of a morning!" cried Trevylian, with in- effable disgust, sinking back in his chair, and pushing away his plate. " Capital ! " laughed Mr. Coesar Coakington ; " Lord Ogil- by's ' hot rolls and butter in July ' never was given with greater effect." And then he added, turning to that gentleman, " I say, Benaraby, I'd give you some of this white hermitage, only there's no glass." 110 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Glass, mj dear fellow ! All glasses are common-place vulgar things, except the ' glass of fashion and the mould of form.' I'll just tell you how I used to manage when I was in the East." Whereupon, he proceeded to tell them a wondrous tale of how he had drunk hock out of his hat on the top of the pyramids, whither he had brought a viaticum of crocodile sand- wiches in his pocket-book ! To the enjoyment of which legend, and the discusssion of something more substantial, we will leave them. SECTION II. "My delights were with the sons of men." — Prov. viil. 31. " Infelix opens fumma, quia ponere totum." — L. Horatii Flacci de Arte Poetica. Well, gratitude is a great virtue, and, like all other virtues, sufficiently rare ; consequently, it is pleasing to be able to record of Archdeacon Panmuir, that be was truly grateful to tbink that be bad secured so many good things in the Church before the present reign, when all such pluralities were abolished. Being, therefore, a prebend of Westniinster, as well as a canon of St. Paul's, he occupied one of the most spacious, as well as one of the pleasantest houses on the Mall in St. James's Park ; and its handsome dining-room looked particularly pleasant upon that rare thing in London, a fine morning in May, when the horse- chestnuts were just bursting into leaf, and the sun — more fortu- nate than many other inferior luminaries — bad actually suc- ceeded, at last, in shining out in his proper sphere. It was the morning after Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' new play, and a supper which had been given in honour of it at the Duchess of Diplo- mat's, the Morning papers were all aired and laid on the break- fast-table, where Edith had not yet appeared to make the tea, Mrs. Dunbar sat by the fire tatting, while the Archdeacon paced the room, like Sir Jacob Kilmansegg ; that is, he " Seemed washing his hands with invisible soap, In imperceptible water," — 112 BEHIND THE SCENES. a species of partial and phantom ablution, to which he was much addicted when any person, thing, or subject, more than usually pre-occupied his attention. Four years had Edith now been under his roof, without one of his plans respecting her having been crowned with fruition ; for to no place, private or public, with the exception of church, could she be induced to go, and even then she had the bad taste to prefer a quiet church, at the other end of the town, to either of her cousin's gorgeous cathe- drals and the privilege of hearing him preach ; and he was be- ginning sorely to repent the precipitate step, which he misno- mered hospitality, that he had taken in inviting — nay, insisting upon his relatives taking up their abode with him ; for Samuel Panmuir was one of a very numerous class, who, when they do " cast their bread upon the waters," do not like waiting for the many days before they find it, but would like to see it forth- with return to them, much augmented in bulk, from the rip- pling of the silver tide of fortune. It was, therefore, a matter of great satisfaction to him that Edith had at length broken the ice and gone into public — not, indeed, to the theatre — that w^as of very little import, as it was not any relaxation of mind or amusement for her that he was thinking of — but that she should have a})peared at the Duchess of Diplomat's afterwards, and pro- duced as great a sensation as his most sanguine expectations could possibly have anticipated. Still — for there is always an if ov a hut in every human triumph — he could have wished the man whom the Duchess sent in to their box w^ith her three lines of pencilled invitation, saying, — "J/a toute belle, as you have co7ne out of your shell at last, you MUST sup with me to night. — C. D.," — had not monopolized Edith the wdiole evening after, keeping off so many better (which in the Archdeacon's vocabulary, meant greater) men ; for who, and what was he, after all ? — nothing but a plain Mister, and one perfectly unknown for much, and long as the reverend gentleman had been about town, he had never, till the previous evening, seen him; consequently, he BEHIND THE SCENES. 113 could be no one worth seeing, or knowing — for if the creme de la creme were to be met at the Duchess of Diplomat's, there were also plenty of detrimental, such as younger brothers, un- paid red tapeists, heiress-seekei"s, and political connection-hunt- ers. Mrs. Dunbar only having been to the play, and not to the Duchess's after, — The Archdeacon addressing her, thus expressed some of the thoughts that were circulating through his mind. " I am glad Edith has at length come to her senses, and made her appearance in the world." " So am I, very glad indeed, poor child, for it is bad at her age to begin life with a great grief, and brood over it incessant- ly ; I think she seemed to like the play, and I hope she enjoyed herself after at the Duchess of Diplomat's. I never saw her looking prettier, so I'm sure she was admired." " Yes, but the worst of it is, she don't know how to make the most of herself." "Little need of that," said the old lady innocently; "for at her age, and with l)pu-beauty, 'a bonny bride is soon busked' — as we say in Scotland." " Tush ! I don't mean ihat^'' rejoined Samuel Panrauir : " women are always thinking of dress. I meant, that with her appearance, and the entre into the best houses, which I have been able to give her, she may, at least she ought^ to make a most brilliant match ; which I fear she will not do, if she allows a set of nobodys to dangle about her." " What you mean, Panmuir ? " asked Mrs. Dunbar, looking up over her spectacles. " I mean that, that Mr. Lancaster, who brought the Duchess's invitation into our box, seemed to hover round her for the rest of the evening to the exclusion of every one else." " Well I'm sure I thought him an uncommonly nice young- man, very handsome, and so well-bred too ! — for there are fev/ of his age now-a-days, and in this great town, would be as civil and attentive to an old body like me as he was, repeating every thing to me that I could not quite catch in the play." 114 BEHIND THE SCENES. Tlie Archdeacon shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, "there is no use in arguing with such unsophisticated folly! " and then added aloud, as he made a sudden pause in his peram- bulations — " Another thing, too, I don't at all approve of the eternal books, notes, and bouquets, that keep coming from Mr. Ponson- by Ferrai-s, for though I don't know a more rising man, and one more sure eventually to succeed in the world, yet, a girl with Edith's advantages, both natural and acquired, may fairly aspire to a ready-made position, and not have to toil up the hill with any trading politician." " Oh ! as for that Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, he may be, and no doubt is, very clever, and all that ; but I'm sure Edith don't think about him, beyond his having been poor Donald's friend, and I know Alciphron Murray had not a good opinion of him, and that would go a great way with Edith." " Fudge ! what on earth should a man like Murray, never in the world, and always in the clouds, know about such a man as Ponsonby Ferrars ; one of the most talented and rising men of the day, and who only lacks two things in my opinion, to make him a most eligible match for Edith ; and those are, a dukedom, or at least a peerage, and a hundred thousand a year. Ah ! I had had great hopes, that when that Duke of Liddes- dale bought Glenfern, he being a young man, matters might have been arranged for Edith still to retain the place, with the addition of a ducal coronet ; but he's worse than a will-o'-the wisp, there is no coming up with him, for four times have I been to Glenfern within the last two years, and twice in the grouse season too, and all I can ever hear is that he was there for a few days last week. But I must say, he has improved the place wonderfully, for instead of the shepherds' huts scattered about the moor, he has built the prettiest Swiss chalets imagina- ble. And Amy Verner's, and all the houses in the village, are the most picturesque cluster of Elizabethan buildings you ever saw, and harmonize admirably with the old church. Well ! well ! it is a thousand pities that Edith — " , BEHIND THE SCENES. 115 But what these multiplied causes for commiseration were, remained untold, for at that moment Edith made her appear- ance, looking much more like a thousand graces than a thou- sand pities. Having kissed her grandmother, then shaking hands with her cousin, she rang for the kettle and proceeded to make the tea ; in doing so, the flame of the lamp beneath the kettle caught the lace at the end of her sleeve, and in trying to extinguish it, the little Venetian chain she wore round her neck got entangled with the silver chain of the kettle, so that she might have been seriously burnt had not Mrs. Dunbar started from her seat, and twisted her napkin round the flaming wrist. "Take care, child !" cried she, as soon as the danger was over, " or we shall really think that you have made up for lost time last night, and have already fallen in love. I hope it's not with Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars ? " "My dear grandmamma," said Edith, in a half disclaiming, half reproachful tone, — at the same time blushing up to her temples — " Because now," continued the old lady, as she put some more sugar candy into her coflfee, " do you know that I like that other young man who came into our box last night much bet- ter ; something so nice and amiable, and well-bred about him ; besides, I hate carrotty whiskers ! Never marry a man with fiery whiskers, my dear ; for they are apt to have tempers to match." " What a dear, funny, naughty granny you are," said Edith laughing, as she got up and kissed her ; which was an admi- rable manoeuvre, for hiding her face from the Archdeacon's scrutinizing gaze, which she felt was at that moment upon her, in all the fulness of its vacuity ! " Ahem ! ahem ! " said he, taking the pith out of a roll, in order that there might be something pithy about what he was going to say, " What did you think of * First Love ? ' " " Ah ! " said Mrs. Dunbar shaking her head before Edith could reply, " it is only at my age people tell truly and honestly what they think of first love ! at hers they never do." 116 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Because at mine," said Edith with one of her enchanting smiles, " at least as far as / am concerned — they have had no opportunity of judging: but with regard to the play, I thought it a pretty play enough, badly acted, and as for the hero ! had I been Eva, I never would have married him." " And why not ? I'm sure he was a most devoted, passion- ate lover, and all that sort of thing," insisted the Archdeacon. " Because I could never esteem a man who had so dehber- ately deceived me." " Ta ! ta 1 ta ! all fair in love and war, you know ? " " Then I should ever be at war with love." " Ha ! ha ! ha ! well come, that is better than like most young ladies, being in love with war, and following the drum ; and so committing partial suicide, by cutting themselves off in the flower of their youth, with a captain in a marching regi- ment, and country quarters ! But talking of country quarters reminds me of the War Office ; and you must go to Lady McToady's to-night, for now that you have been out, she will be quite offended if you don't attend her receptions puctually." " If I must, I must ! " said Edith, with a resigned sigh. " I wonder if Mr. Pon— " " Did you say more cream ?" interrupted Edith, pushing it over to the old lady, whom she saw with nervous trepidation was again about to dance her favourite Marionette, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars ; in order to prevent which, she added, " Do you know, grand- mamma, it struck me that I had seen that Mr. Lancaster's face somewhere before ; and I have been thinking and thinking where it could have been ; and now I know : don't you remem- ber " (and here she sighed heavily), " four years ago, when you came to take me from Madame Beaucarmes, and we were at the Hotel du Rhin, on the Place Vendome, getting out of the carnage one day, I dropped my glove, and a gentleman who was passing at the time picked it up and gave it to me ? " " No, indeed, my dear, I don't ; but I dare say you do ; for I well remember when I was a girl, at a great ball at Dalkeith, BEHIND THE SCENES. 117 at the marriage of the then ' young Biiccleugh,' dropping a rose- bud out of my bosom, while dancing a minuet with young Lovat, and the McGregor picked it up, and shewed it me, seven and thirty years after, when I was a widow, but unhke the las- sie in the song, I was ' o'er auld to marry then.' " " Well," laughed Edith, " there was no such romance about my glove ; but Mr. Lancaster mystified me very much, by say- ing that last night was not the first time he had seen me ; and I *now recollect that he was the person, who, passing by at the time, had the civility to stoop and pick up my glove." " Humph ! rather dangerous, my dear Edith, to become hand-in-glove with a man you pick up in the streets," depreca- ted the Archdeacon, shaking his own head, and breaking that of a third egg. " But I have not become hand-in-glove with him ; neither did I become acquainted with him in the street ; unless, indeed, you use the word in the slang acceptation of the term ; as all the young men call Diplomat House : ' T/w Street ; ' and the duchess's soirees, of whatsoever description, whether dinners, concerts, or receptions, ' Downing Streets.' " " Oh, of course he's eligible, and all that sort of thing," re- joined Samuel Panmuir, " or you would not have met him there ; only to oblige the duke, the duchess sometimes asks strange sort of people ; I mean people not at all in her set, and that one may hear of but don't generally see ; such as artists and printers, and those sort of people." " Printers ? " " Well, authors, and newspaper people ; it's all the same jkind of thing." " But I thought authors were rather sought after in society, and called lions : for instance, look at Mr. Benaraby, and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, and — " " Oh, those are men of a certain standing, who may be call- ed amateur authors ; they don't write in garrets for their bread, though they may write for their claret and their venison, or even 118 BEHIND THE SCENES. for their opera boxes ; but besides they have a certain pohtical influence, and that is everything in this country." " Well, but Mr. Carlo Dials ? he has no pohtical influence, and I believe he does — I " " Yes, he has the press," again interrupted the Archdeacon ; " besides, there are exceptions to every rule, and one argues from the nde^ and not from the excerptions ; moreover, he has had luck, and there is no system or science by which that can either be acquired or explained." Edith was silent ; and as the Archdeacon, at the commence- ment of this' conversation, had done a very unusual thing, namely, alluded to the Duke of Diplomat, a thing seldom or never done in society, we shall take this opportunity of stating, that there actually was such a person ; but he was almost a myth, being a model husband : that is, he was seldom heard of, and never seen. In fact, the poor man was always ill, which is a way some men have of giving their wives their widowhood by instalments, and like money paid in the same way, though it is not so advantageous as the sum total, still, in both instances, it evinces an effort to do what is right, and on that account, is acceptable. The poor Duke of Diplomat, then, being a sort of demi-mort, it may be admissible to pass upon him the epitaphical panegyric of saying, that a more innocuous, self-suflacing, tractable, liberal, non-exacting, never-grumbling, anti-lord-and-masterish animal, of the genus husband, never existed ; for live he did not, nor was it necessary that he should : for, as in some families the title and estates descend in the female line, so in others (though even more rarely than in the case of hereditary honours) all marital authority centres in the wives ; and, as in the former instance, gives every privilege and immunity ; with the solitary exception of sitting in the House of Lords ; for which, however, absolute control over their own lords may be considered as some sort of compensation ; so at least the Duchess of Diplomat ami- ably thought it, and therefore never insisted upon taking the oaths in the Upper House. BEHIND THE SCENES. 119 Breakfast being ended, the Archdeacon retired to his study, where he generally spent two or three hours in solemn seclu- sion ; reading the papers, and occasionally even such light lite- rature, or profane works, as to have read openly — that is, in the dining, or drawing-room, might have compromised both his dig- nity and his divinity. Mrs. Dunbar having divers of those in- numerable little potterings about, to which all old ladies are more or less addicted, and in which they are all unanimous in disliking to be followed, left Edith free to enjoy the solitude of her own room, and the crowd of her own thoughts, which was at once a luxury and a relief; for, though she loved her grand- mother sincerely, yet time had placed that wide icy gulf be- tween them, which the warm, buoyant thoughts of youth sel- dom succeed in clearing, but generally fall in, and perish in the attempt. The lov^e we feel for age is like that w^e lavish upon childhood — of a very protecting, generous, unselfish nature; as in either case there can be no current reciprocity of thoughts and sentiments to equalize the compact. And what did Edith think of? What does the night- wind think of when it whis- pers to the flowers; — or the misty and lurid nebulae, when it looks on the stars till it veils their light? — or the rolling, rip- phng waves, when they murmur strange, world-old legends to the hstening shells? Ask the night-wind ; and a sigh shall be your answer. Ask the stars ; they will palpitate in light, but not reveal for whom or what they scintillate. Ask the shell ; nay, press its cold lips still closer to your ear, and you shall dis- tinctly hear the echo of the murmuring wave, — but not the tale it told ! SECTION III *' Thou shalt see greater abominations than these" Bze^. viii. 16. " O Lord, that seest from yon stany height, Centred in one, the future and the past,, Fashioned in thine own image, see how fast The world obscures in me what once was bright" Feancisco Aldana. Translated ly Longfellow. During the four seasons that Edith had been in London, with- out going out until -within the last five weeks (for that period had now elapsed since her dehut at the Duchess of Diplomat's)^ Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had made very good use of his time, as far as offering of books, flowers, and magazines went — which latter generally contained elaborate pufis of himself, or his works, or both ; with still more elaborate hints of what a prize it would be for any woman to secure the affections of such a man ; as from his writings (!) it was evident, notwithstanding the brilliancy and altitude of his intellectual achievements, that his heart was a well-spring of those gentler and purer domestic affections, which make of home a terrestrial paradise, like Ho- race's description of Baiae — " Nullus in orbe locus Baiis Praelucet amornis " These offerings were, moreover, for the most part accompanied with voluminous notes, written in a close, cramped hand, and I BEHIND THE SCENES. 121 containing a liappy mixture of wit, gossip, philosophy, politics, and sentiment, of which latter all the former were but the envelopes. Now, had all this been systematic, nothing could have been more scientific, but it was not : Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was merely playing with his uttermost skill such cards as he held in his hand ; but for that matter, nine times out of ten, Chance is the most subtle diplomatist possible ; and its combinations are often far more artistic than the most astute plans of human forethought. For instance, had Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had free access to Edith, in all probability he would never have made as much way in her thoughts as he had al- ready done ; from being too precipitate in his attempts to make more. For the seed of all feelings, be they those of love or hatred, are first sown in the head, and germinate in the mind before they fructify and become passions in the heart; and it is impossible not to think about a person who is constantly pla- cing themselves allegorically before us in a series of nameless, but apropos, and therefore acceptable attentions. And, so far had Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars advanced into what he himself would have called " the seat of war,^'' that he had succeeded in castino; the full-lenofth outline of his shadow across the still va- cant arena of Edith's thoughts. Her existence up to the present time had been a very wide blank, and he had helped to inscribe upon it at least a something that had interested her imagina- tion ; so that a day which brought no book, note, or flowers, from him, was to her a dies nan, and few women are — but posi- tively no girl is — insensible to fame, celebrity, notoriety, popu- larity, or whatever the real name of the Proteus Reputation be ! So indisputable is this fact, that were maids a river fish, Isaak Walton would unquestionably have recommended it as an infallible bait for their capture ; and Edith thought it was so good ! so kind ! of him, occupied, and more than occupied as he was, and with so much at once to excite and to satisfy his vanity in the world, yet to think of her, and to find time to minister to her wants, and endeavour to alleviate the dullness 6 122 BEHIND THE SCENES. of her obscure and isolated existence. Then to have he)' opinion appealed and deferred to by this man, to whom the world ap- pealed and deferred ! — there was a deep spell in this ; for it is not that women have 7nore vanity than men, but it is of a dif- ferent kind : theirs being a vanity of the heart, which is a parasite of the affections — whereas, that of men is of the head, and of the fungi genus, of rapid growth, self-induced, and self- supporting ; of enormous summit, and small foundation ; and irrigated into rank luxuriance, by the very influences that would damp and bhght other and more valuable productions. But most of all, there was in Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars^ letters (though always unanswered by her, save in the brief acknowdedgment of a single line, or an equally brief message of verbal thanks) a sort of electric sympathy of thought, and opinion, which ap- peared to her almost suiDernatural, and were to her pent-up feelings, like refreshing showers to the parched and arid desert^ after the empty pomposity of the Archdeacon, and the uncon- genial talJcings of Mrs. Dunbar, whose conversation, like that of most very old people, was chiefly retrospective and rechavffee of herself. And then came Edith's most critical crisis of all, which was her excuses to, and justification of herself, for think- ing so much about this man ; the final summing up being, that Alciphron Murray was prejudiced, and therefore must be wrong, and poor Donald right ; or he never would have felt the friend- ship he had done for him — a friendship, by-the-bye, which Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had, as far as young Panmuir was concerned — and still more so, as regarded himself — greatly exaggerated. And now that she went into the world, and that they met al- most daily and nightly, despite the many passages in his letters which might have led her to suppose, that it was only the op- portunity he wanted to tell her that he loved her, so as not coarsely to obtrude his love upon her grief — still, though these opportunities now abounded, no v/ord of the kind was ever uttered by him. Notwithstanding which, there was that tyran- nous espionnage of look and manner, that left no glance or BEHIND THE SCENES. 12.1 movement of hers free ; that evoking of the mystic, and the occult, in the midst of the commonplace, which a dominant sjDirit can always exercise upon its selected vassal unobserved and unsuspected byall others. In short, in every crowd where they met, he traced, as it were, an atmospheric magic circle ; of which, while she herself was the centre, he was nevertheless the archetype. In thus haunting her, he had created in her mind an artificial want of his presence, which grew at length into a sort of antithetical morbidity ; for upon entering any room where he was not, and consequently where his cold pale eyes did not " compass her round," she felt at once a disappointment and a relief. Oh ! if there is a perilous or a pitiable position on earth, it is that of a young girl, just entering the world, who has neither mother, sister, nor any one near enough, or true enough, to let her heart strike befoi-e ; for the chronology of the affections, hke that of kingdoms, is the record of events rather than of time ; and how often does one of these poor young hearts, when down, want winding up ; and when wound up, want regulating ; while for lack of such care, full many a main- spring has snapped, and the rigid hand of time pointed immov- ably and uselessly to one long ijast fatal hour ! Edith felt this want keenly ; but it is only an aggravation of misery to be fully sensible of an evil that we cannot remedy. In youth, all, or nearly all, our passions and feelings are to ourselves hieroglyph- ics, and it is not till the scroll of life is far unrolled, that we ac- quire sufficient knowledge to decipher them, and then, cui bono? since by that time, they have all become equally a dead letter to us. In vain I^iith studied and puzzled over these symboli- cal archives of her own mind, without being able to come to any solution. She did not love him, oh no I she was sure she did not love him, therefore she wished she could either like him more, or think of him less, for with that freemasonry which all women possess in such matters, totally independent of the slightest admixture of vanity, she felt that Mr. Lancaster did really love her, though his manner was so quiet, so concen- 124 BEHIND THE SCENES. trated and so imecstatic, compared with Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' Hecla demeanour — for while his exterior was ice itself to the generality of persons, to her the volcano ever sent forth suffi- cient evidence of its raging within. Personally, it was impos- sible not to admire, esteem, and hke Mr. Lancaster better, for in the first place he had nature's letter of recommendation — beauty, and next, there was about him that perfect absence, or rather that total abnegation of self, which has its origin in good feeling, and manifests itself in good breeding, that rare ! moral magnet, which attracts all, and retains, as w^ell as attracts, while Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars (she could neither deny nor ex- tenuate the fact), was both imperious and ill-tempered, and consequently often exceedingly ill-bred, as all exacting people are ; still, with this manifest superiority on the side of Mr. Lan- caster, why did she so often wish that he had the talent, the prestige, the celebrity, in fact, of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, though on the other hand, he might have talents for aught she knew, although he had never displayed them in a voluminous corre- spondence like the former, or shone by monopolizing the whole conversation, for in her society he said little, whatever he might do in that of others. Yet never — and here again Mr. Lancas- ter had a decided and most flattering advantage over the clever man, had he known it — did Edith catch herself wishing Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars any of Mr. Lancaster's attributes ; these feel- ings were inexplicable to herself, yet they were the very natural results, of the causes in which they had their origin. Mr. Lancaster had had a sohd and wmrerscrZ education, that is, every faculty, beginning with the moral ones, and extending to the intellectual, had been equally developed, and carefully trained, which had made of his character an harmonious whole, which did not indeeci dazzle like a meteor, but gradually pene- trated into the hearts of others, and vivified their esteem, like a fixed and steady luminary, as was the principle from which his every act emanated or by which they were controlled. Now Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, on the contrary, had i-eceived a purely BEHIND THE SCENES. 125 classical education, according to the monstrous, thougli long es- tablished system of our public schools and colleges, and (as has been truly remarked by a late eloquent divine* — " The present state of classical education cultivates the imagination a great deal too much, and other habits of mind a great deal too little, and trains up many young men in a style of elegant imbecility.") Alas ! if the evil was even limited to the " elegant imbecihty," it would be no great matter (that is, as long as the said young gentlemen were sufficiently well off to indulge in this elegant imbecility), but it is not ; for in this system which totally ex- cludes the cultivation of a single'moral, or any other faculty hut the intellectual ones, its produce (when grafted upon nullities) may indeed be elegant Imbeciles ! but when its seeds are scat- tered amidst the deep furrows of strong passions and decided characters, its fruits must be, and are, unscrupulous villains and accomplished profligates. For after a young gentleman has for eighteen years assiduously and exclusively devoted all the ener- gies of his mind to an analytic study of the intrigues of Jupiter, and the orgies of Olympus, without one sanctifying holy home, or counteracting moral influence, can it be expected that he should not at the termination of such studies think, and feel himself fully competent to "go and do likewise;" and beings trained in such a school are perfectly incapable of love properly so called, whose sacred fire purifies, elevates, and sublimates, the most earthy natures, for all so trained know nothing of the true divinity, having graduated under the heathen Cupid, that Igna- tius Loyola of Olympus, and having consequently no better worship to offer at his shrine, than the hollow and treacherous chicane of his own crooked code, and while this high state of cultivation of the ideal or intellectual, to the total neglect of the moral and the real, because the eternal, is sure to cause them to make victims, more or less, of all who come within their sphere, we question whether it is even a source of spurious hap- *The Rev. Sidney Smith. 126 BEHIND THE SCENES. piness to themselves ? and rather think not, being of Grimins' opinion, that " le peu de honheur dont nous pouvons jouir^ ne vient — il pas Men plus de nos sentimens, que de nos idees ? et tout sentiment qui nepeut se communiquer aux autres, fut — ce meme la gloire, parait Men triste, et Men froid.''^ * And what in the whole arcana of our physiology is at once so insatiable, and so incommunicable, as intense egotism ? which is sure to be the first and sole offspring of this exclusive union between the classical and the intellectual. * The little happiness of which we are capable, do we not derive it rather from our feelings, than from ideas ? and all feelings which cannot be communicated to others, were it even that of fame, or triumph, would be both tame and cold. SECTION IV. "* ' There hath net failed one word of all his good promise." — 1 Kings, viii. 56. "Better is it to be of an humble spirit, with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud." — Frov. xvi. 18. •*' For the commonest minds are fall of thoughts that would do credit to the rarest" — Tapper's Proverbial Philosophy. It was between five and six o'clock of an evening in June, — the rain having fallen in torrents all tlie day, and the snn for the first time bursting out in great glory from amidst the black «louds, and flinging his largesses down indiscriminately upon the two rapid little muddy rivers that rolled on either side of Oxford Street, when a Brompton omnibus stopped at the cor- ner of Dean Street, from which a thin, middle-aged, middle- sized, dark, and plain-featured woman alighted, dressed in those elaborate and full-blown weeds, which women in the middle -classes so often take a long lease of, not so much from excessive grief for "the dear departed," as from excessive economy, in order to recover the interest of the large capital sunk in crape at the first starting ; or it may be, when the wearer has no great amount of personal attractions, as in the present instance, — a sort of " giving notice" that there was one discriminating mor- tal who thought otherwise ; though, alas ! it is not to be sup- posed that she " e'er can look upon his like again ! " and hence this terrible maelstrom of black crape. Paramatta, and gauffred muslin. The figure thus engulfed, and who was now alighting 128 * BEHIND THE SCENES. from the omnibus, was slightly marked with the small pox, her face and forehead both red, and the forehead so high, that it looked as if its owner had treated her hair like a wig, and pushed it very far back, to cool the fire that w^as raging in her face ; her eyes were dark, and dancing here, there, and everywhere at once, which enabled them to catch, with the dex- terous rapidity of an Indian juggler, the numerous eyeballs they went in quest of, while, she laboured under the illusion that the former were always in search of hers. Her nose was short, straight, and spikey, with an upper lip so long, that it looked like the model of a spout ; her teeth had been good, and were fii-mly and decisively set in her head, but were now in mourning also ; her figure was neat, and trim, as most very small figures are ; and peeping out, like some neglected flower, fi-om beneath all these weeds. She thought it irresistible. Indeed, she had an idea — or rather a conviction — that the very circumstance of wearing weeds, was a bait, a snare, a spiinge — in short, a con- crete magnet, for attracting all the floating gallantry, and itiner- ant immorality extant ; and it was astonishing the fierce strug- gles, and imaginary persecutions, she sustained on their account. And yet such was the tenacious afiection of w^hat she called " her widowed art^ to the memory of poor dear Mr. (for she never omitted his title) Bousefield," that she could not bear to leave them off", though the unconscious Bousefield had now slept quietly in Paddington churchyard for the last fourteen years. Neither w^as his paragon of a widow ever tired of expatiating upon his defunct virtues, — the panegyric generally concluding with — "Ah! poor dear Mr. Bousefield, hif I could ave heat gold, e'd ave give it to me," though it must be confessed that these marital virtues were not so much cited for the idle pur- pose of " adorning a tale," as for that of " pointing a moral," which moral was — " what a wife she must have been to have insured such devotion ! " And w^hen she had to condole with less fortunate wives, which w^as daily and hourly, the formula of her sympathy invariably was, — BEHIND THE SCENES. 129 " Ah ! Mrs. Tompkins, / who ad a good usban^ and know what it is, knows ow to feel for you, with your blackguard — blackguard (with great emphasis) I call him, to use any ooman in that way." Mrs, Bousefield having performed the transit from Brompton to Oxford Street in perfect safety, with no rocks a-head, beyond on three occasions having thought it necessary to tell an elderly gentleman, opposite to her, who, with his umbrella between his knees, was on his return to the city, quietly ruminating after his last feed of " The Times,"" first, that " she would thank him to know his own from other people's, and keep his feet to him- self:" whereupon he innocently expressed his belief of having all along been guilty of that monopoly. The second time, she was still more unjust, for a deep rut, which had occasioned a general pele-mele of all the passengers, she invidiously attri- buted to a singular pressure from without, of the elderly gentle- man individually; while the third time, another rut having caused the point of his umbrella to slip, and spring forward of its own accord, and alight between those feet where the late Jedediah Bousefield had breathed out his youthflil love, his widow hurled at the elderly gentleman the following piece of " useful and entertaining knowledge" — viz., " that humher-hel- lers was made for keeping hoff the rain, and not for poking of respectable /ema^es about in that kowdacious sort of way; but it vi?ishawful what lone women, and hespecialli/ widders, had to put hup with." " And to put down with, too, Ma'am, seemingly," said the proscribed elder, good-humouredly, as he handed after her a small kangaroo in a cage ; " for I see this little animal is directed to the bird-stuffer's a few doors lower down." " Oh ! for Haven's sake don't go for to give me none of your nasty hanimals," cried Mrs. Bousefield, as she scrambled up a new widow's cap, tied up in one of poor dear Mr. Bousefield's gi devant scarlet and yellow Indian silk pocket handkerchiefs, and one of those black embroidered, fold-up reticules, which ap- 6* 130 BEHIND THE SCENES. pear, both as to size and form, a compromise between a carpen- ter's basket and a carpet bag, and, finally, a round basket tied over with white, thinnish paper, and round with a piece of Dutch matting, which she told the cad, as he took it from her hand while she was getting down, to " be i^erticklar careful with, as they was grapes for a lady has was Mil ; " after which she prepared to descend, not without first, how^ever, calUng the attention of a butcher who sat smoking on the top of the omni- bus with his face turned the other w ay, by telling him to mind his own business, and not to look at her. "All right, marm," said the man, flinging her one look over his shoulder ; " y've no call to be afeared^ for not being a pea- cock, you see, I ha'nH got no eyes in my tail ; " which caused a laugh among the other occupants of the roof, and a parting diatribe from Mrs. Bousefield, about the " howdacious impe- dence of them fellers, one and all — only the hold uns was the worst ; " which latter part of this speech she hurled back into the omnibus, with a look of virtuous indignation at the elderly gentleman's umbrella, he himself having his head turned the other way, looking out of the window\ No sooner had she reached terra Jirma, collected all her parcels, bundles, and packages, and lifted up, not her voice, but her petticoats, pre- paratory to crossing the dyke, than the sudden apparition of an elderly and very benevolent-looking man, in deep mourning, and yet with more sorrow in his countenance than in his gar- ments, who stood within the doorway of a shop at some httle distance, in the act of hailing a Kensington omnibus, seemed completely to upset her, — not, indeed, literally, but figurative- ly ; for, with the same desperation that those misguided mor- tals who take shower baths, pull the string, and overwhelm themselves in an aw^^ewr- deluge, did the bereaved relict of Jedediah Bousefield jduII suddenly down the Niagara of black crape that adorned the front of her bonnet. Now, what made this movement the more remarkable, was, that it was evidently occasioned, neither by a compassionate desire to shield the hail- BEHIND THE SCENES. 131 er of the Kensington omnibus from the artillery of her charms, nor by the laudable ambition of placing Bousefield's widow on the same beyond-suspicion's footing as Csesar's wife ; but from a mingled paroxysm of fear and surprise, which, as she hurried down Dean Street, and crossed Soho Square, eventually turning into Wardour Street, found utterance in the following solilo- quy : " Well, I never ! who'd have ever ? And getting into a Kensington 'bus, too ! Surely he can't — jirafs he as, though ; and a good thing, too : for I for one am tired of such ritf-rafi', hugger-mugger doings. XJshan, indeed, — Blackguard I call him ; and so I've a good mind to tell him pretty soon. But to think that there, if I ain't come all hover in one of them terri- ble eats ! quite enough to hupset my poor nerves. The goings hon of that good-for-nothink old feller in the 'bus, without any morC; — dear, dear. Well, I'd as soon ave hexpected to ave seen poor, dear Mr. Bouseiield himself; and the shock of that I'll leave any married ooman to judge, who as ad a usban ! hurried for fourteen years, and never hexpected to see him no more, if he really was a usban ; for one half as calls themselves so don't 'have as sich ; pack of hobstroplus, howdacious, hover- bearing, gallavanting, good-for-nothink — blackguards ! I call 'em." And here Mi-s. Bouseiield stopped to take breath, and to look about her, which was very proper ; for, if Greece is the classic soil of antiquity, Wardour Street is unquestionably that of antiquities, which the widow, however, somewhat profanely designated as a parcel of rubbishing old rag shops, as she looked up and down it, seemingly uncertain which way to bend her course ; indeed, she could not think, and so she said to her- self, " What the quality could mean by coming to such a low- lived place to huy^ even sAe, a poor tradeswoman^ when in busi- ness" (the business had been a public-house in Holborn), "poor, dear Mr. Bouseiield never let her have a second-hand thing in her house. Her bedsteads and chairs were all of the newest 132 BEHIND THE SCENES. and best meeogany ; so were all the barrels at the bar. When, at Mr. Bousefield's death, she had parted with the concern, she had endeed sold some plate to a Jew in that street, and that's how she came to know of such a place ; but, as for buying a parcel of nasty, dirty, old, worm-eaten furniture, she should be afraid of its being full of Queen Elizabeth ! the Spanish Ar- mada ! the Great Fire of London ! and the Plague ! and — catching them all. No ; hers was- all in a very Aumble way ; but, thank goodness, it was new, clean, and tidy, and no carv- ing but upon good, wholesome joints. "Drat the place! if I can remember whereabouts it was ; but I think, indeed I'm sure, the name was Jacobs ; because I remember his saying that the goold coin at the bottom of my punch ladles was a Jacobus ; and my saying, has it w^as one of his famly, then, I supposed, he ouglit to give more for it ; and I can't say but he behaved very ''andsome, on the w^hole, Specially considering he was a Jew." It will be perceived by the foregoing piece of lucid elo- quence, that talking (like bleeding at the nose with some per- sons) was at once an infirmity with, and a relief to Mrs. Bouse- field ; talk she must — of course she preferred an audience — what orator does not ? but still hers was a self sufficing gift, and in default of other listeners, she could speechify for hours to herself, without a dissentient voice ; which is, perhaps, the chief advantage of that peculiar species of elocution. There was one remarkable feature in her " Romance of History," wdiich was, that not one of the events chronicled in our national archives (by some strange, mysterious process, only known to herself) ever preceded or went beyond the Elizabethan era. For, al- though it is true she had a due horror of Henry the Eighth (or old Harry, as she very appropriately called him), and his little favourite pastime of cutting off his wives' heads, yet by some unaccountable hocus-pocus, even these rolled from the scaffold, accompanied by Queen Elizabeth on a high-trotting horse going in state to Tilbury Fort ! And also, more recent BEHIND THE SCENES. 133 occurrences — to which the almanack and Universal Gazetteer officiated as parish registers, such as the French Revolution, and the Battle of Trafalgar, she contrived to antedate into her fa- vourite reign, confounding the Revolution with the St. Bar- tholomew ! and speaking with horror of "the time, when all the people was treated so barbarous in France, and butchered like *bell wethers at the French Bartlemy fair ! in Queen Eliza- beth's time. While the battle figured as ''Hliem two squirts in Trafalgar Square, which was brought by Lord jS^elson, with to- bacco pipes, from Americkey^ which was afterwards beheaded by Queen Elizabeth for it ! though some does say it was be- cause she was more intimate with him than she should 6e." There was also another romance attending her love, which Bousefield himself had ignored ; and which she never alluded to, but on great emergencies — such as when her abstract widow- hood, though of fourteen years' accumulation ! fiiiled to excite all the lachrymose sympathy which she deemed it entitled to ; — then, applying her handkerchief to the corner of either eye, would she beg her auditor}^, singular or plural as the case might be, to think what her feelings ivas^ when she read the births, marriages, and deaths, in the papers. She who had a 'usban, and six dear hinfants swallowed hup by the grave, without a victory and without a sting ! Now, not one of her most inti- mate acquaintance, or even "^Ae oldest inhabitant^' of Hol- born (that scene of her public glory, and her domestic bliss), could, after the most indefatigable research amid the nooks and corners of their memory, recall a single symptom of these six dear hinfants — this half dozen Thanes of Bousefield, that were to have been — beyond, indeed, some token caps and frocks which she, who was to have been the mother of their intended wearers, kept as the insignia of her order, and displayed only on collar days, nam.ely, at those births, deaths, and marriages at which she was called on personally to assist. All common people are communicative, giving you not only their antece- dents at first sight, but also every why and wherefore of their 134 BEHIND THE SCENES. proceedings ; but Mrs. Bousefield was even more so than her peers ; if purchasing provisions, her revelations turned upon her general health, and particular aliments, and she analytically de- scribed the effects of various condiments to the divers vendors, in a gratuitous essay which might have made a sensation in " The Lancet," had the printer been cautioned not to tamper with the original diction. Neither could she buy a yard of tape, without fancying the counter a confessional, and telling the shop-woman, or even the shop-man, the identical flannel petticoat whose epileptic tendencies it was destined to obviate. But in ^'■poor dear Mr. Bousefield'' s time,''^ her candour was pushed even to a far greater extent, for no paper of needles ever found its way from Whitechapel into her white dimity pocket, without her favouring its retailer with the most minute and elaborate details of the particular garment of " Mr. Bousefield's" they were intended to repair ; and even the exact size, form, and locality of the fracture. And as for buttons ! — if Bouse- field had not had a soul above buttons, his very ghost must have succumbed under them, as his relict's constant wish was, that she had but a guinea for every one that she had sewn on. Yet as she advanced in life (if her charming sex can ever be said to do so, however they may advance in the world), she im- parted her own immediate affairs less, and devoted herself more exclusively to disseminating those of others : though having commenced her career as a lady's maid, she was wont to ob- serve, that she ''■hoped she might call herself a confidential per- son ; " so that, like the countryman who agreed to shelter the fox, in the fable, though she would clearly ^9om^ out the lurking place of a secret, she never told the secret itself; — "least said, soonest mended," being one of the mottoes of the family arms appertaining to the " six dear hinfants.^^ At length, being completely lost in the maze of her own reminiscences, she did at last what she should have done at first, and stopping a woman, said : " Please 'um, could you be so good as to tell me if a broker BEHIND THE SCENES. 135 of the naine of Jacobs lives somewhere hereabouts? for my memory is by no means as good as it used to be ; for when one has buried a good ''ushan\ as mine was in hevery res2)ec\ and six dear hinfants^ you may suppose, 'wm, though I'm not one to make much of a little, but very different from that ! that I've seen a deal of trouble." The woman stared at her ; and without in the least appear- ing to feel this fugitive monody upon the defunct Mr. Bouse- field and the six dear hinfants, any more than if she had been the tombstone of the former, and the veiy apocryphal cradle of the latter ; with almost legal acumen confined herself to Avhat she considered the only important point of the case, by informing her interrogator that she had passed the shoj); as Mr. Jacobs lived five doors lower down on the left hand side. Arrived at length at the door, it was not to be expected that she could turn the handle and walk in, without a great flutter, or, as she herself called it, fluster of spirits — and coniing all over in one of them terrible heats I at the recollection of the punch ladles, tea, table-spoons, and other elegancies appertain- ing to the " Fox and Fiddle," when that establishment had been in its glory in " poor dear Mr. Bousefield's time." But at length, she made a desperate effort over herself — though, as she said afterw^ards in recounting her sensations, any one might have knocked her down with a feather; and, considering the num- ber of ladies of Mrs. Bousefield's class, always ready to be knocked down in the same way, it is fortunate for them that tliis theoretical species of downy pugilism forms no practical portion of " the noble science of self-defence" — and with this great effort she opened the door and tottered in ; but, perceiv- ing by the light of the evening sun which was now streaming through a painted glass window in the back shop, that there were two men's hats for her to encounter — reckless of Queen Elizabeth, the Spanish Armada, Gi-eat Fire of London, or even the Plague ! — she sat down in a thoroughly uncomfortable, elaborately carved high-backed arm-chair; and from thence 136 BEHIND THE SCENES. enunciated such a series of vigorous oh ! oh ! ! oh's ! ! ! which were meant for hysterical sobs — that, being in a curiosity shop, any one would have supposed she had sat upon a porcupine by mistake ; and, indeed, the remains of a harrow, found in the Campagna of Rome, having that morning come in, Mr. Jacobs from Mrs. Bousefield's ejaculations feared she might have inad- vertently misapplied that useful, and in this instance classical agricultural implement, whereupon he called out to one of his sons who was polishing a marquetrie cabinet in an inner work- room beyond the back shop— " Goodness ! Benjamin, I hope you haven't left that piece of the Roman harrow about on any of the chairs ? " "No, sir, that harrow is in here." " Dear me, then, I hope the lady has not sat upon your Venice glasses, Mr. Murray ! " said Jacobs, advancing towards the widow to discover the cause of her groans ; but at the name of Murray, the flood-gates of black crape were opened, and it again fell in torrents o^er her face. " It's nothing^ sir, hall ill soon be hover ! " gasped Mrs. Bousefield in an under tone to Jacobs ; " but hevrey one '<25 their feelings, and there is times and places where one his more susceptibler than hothers.'^ This speech instead of allaying, only revived Mr. Jacobs' fears, and he anxiously expressed a hope that there had been no glasses, or other inappropriate appendages, in the chair ? " "Oh, no, there's nothink in the chair, it's the ''ardest as hever I sat upon ; but, I believe, at the latter hend of Queen EHzabeth's time, they was accustomed to ''ard ships," murmured Mrs. Bousefield in the same under tone ; adding, " but pray at- tend to the gentleman as you was serving when I come in, for I can wait, and, indeed, should be glad to recover the flustering and ''arrowing hup of my feelings a little." Not only reassured by these words that Mrs. Bousefield had sustained no external injury, but from the historical allusion contained in the beginning of them, — having a confused idea BEHIND THE SCENES. 13 Y that the bale of black crape before him had cast its shadow on his threshold before ; and like the cliolera, influenza, scarlatina, or any other epidemic, was not easily got rid of — he turned to his previous customer, and said — " Then the glasses I am to send to your lo<:lgings in Bury Street, sk?" " Yes, if you please ; and the picture of Jeremy Taylor, al- ready packed for going into the country, directed to the Rev. Hobart Wilmot, at Colonel Chipchase's, No. — , Palace Gardens, Kensington." At these words the arm of the black sea in the Elizabethan chair began to agitate the large thick w^hite linen pocket hand- kerchief it held in its hand, so violently, as a substitute for a fan, that from the manner in which she sank back (as far as the rigid perpendicularity of the chair would allow of), it appeared to fell her down like a whole forest of feathers ; and as soon as the last speaker had quitted the shop, up flew the black crape fall, high in mid-air like a water spout, as turning sharply to Jacobs, she said — " Pray did you not call that 'ere gent as has just left the shop, Mr. Murray ? " " Yes ; that is his name." " You'll hexcuse me — for I don't hask hout of mere curiosi- ty ; but his is name Halciphron Murray?" " Yes." '■^ Hand didn't I 'ear him a telling you to send a picter of Jeremy Diddler, I think he said, to the Reverend Hobart Wil- mot? Now, pray, is Mr. Wilmot in town?" "I suppose so," said Jacobs; "or the picture would not have been ordered to be sent there to him." "And is it a ^ouse of his hoivn; that is a ^ouse as he have Hred ; for I know he has no town 'ouse ? " "I really don't know; but I rather think not, as I under- stood Mr. Murray he was on a visit to Colonel Chipchase." For a few seconds the widow's thoughts appeared to be 138 BEHIND THE SCENES. buried in the silent tomb with '' Mr. Bousefield and the six dear hinfants ; " but at the expiration of that time, she ex- claimed, pulling herself up out of the chair, as it were by the lever of a great sigh 1 ""Well ! how things does come about to be surel " And then mmmaging in the depths of one of her capacious pockets, she fished up a very small, green velvet-case, or etui, rolled in silver paper, which case contained a large heart-shaped brilliant ring, of mediaeval setting and workmanship, surmount- ed by a true lover's knot of rubies and diamonds. " Now, p'raps you may not recall the circumstance, Mr. Jacobs," said she, still withholding the ring from his hand, which was outstretched to receive it ; " but it is not the first time as you hand I ''ave ''ad dealings together." " It struck me I had seen you before, ma'am ; but I cannot ■exactly i-emember upon what occasion.'' " Ha ! no doubt, I'm terrible haltered since then, hanguish tells upon the stoutest ^arts, and the ''ighest sp)erits ; and when one comes to 'ave a good ^usband, six dear hinfants, and hall one's spoons swallowed up by the silent grave without a sting, and without a victory ! I has& w^hat do you suppose his left of a ooman ? " Jacobs supposed the remaining fragment was her tongue, but he did not say so ; he merely replied in the universal lan- guage of a shrug, which, like a di^Dlomatic document, means anything, everything, or nothing : as diflferent occasions, or con- tingencies may require. " Yes, the grave 'ao? poor dear Mr. Bousefield, and — you — you Mr. Jacobs 'ad my sjDoons ! " and the convulsive sobs that accompanied this announcement would more than have filled the four punch ladles which formerly had graced the " Fox and Fiddle." " Spoons I were they apostle spoons, or modern ones ? " " Oh, modern, hajid the very best ; for poor dear Mr. Bouse- field my 'usband, never let me ^ave anything but the newest BEHIND THE SCENES. 139 hand the best ; (no offence to the harticles you deal kin Mr. Jacobs, which I know his run hafter by the qnahty has great curiosities) hand hall hour plate was the fiddle pattern, hon ac- count .of hour ouseh^mg called ' Tlie Fox and Fiddle,' — hex- cept four old punch ladles w^ith goold coins set in them, which Old Lady Coddlecat left poor Mr. Bousefield, who'd been her ladyship's butler for years ; and two of the goold coins you said was Jacobuses, hand the hother two I think you called hangels — I spose on account of hall the sperits they W ladled hout^ " Oh ! I think I remember, it was somewhere between thir- teen and fourteen years ago ; was it not ? " " Just fourteen years and three weeks, come the thirteenth of next month," panted Mrs. Bousefield, getting up her steam for another fit of hysterics, which Jacobs perceiving, said hastily, in great alarm — " Well, but what can I have the pleasure of doing for you now, ma'am ? " " It his a little matter of business \haihis not mine, Mr. Ja- cobs, though I do 02)6 I may call myself a conferdential person, for maid, wife, and widow, I've known the family these thirty years — indeed, I was Miss Florence's mar''s maid — Miss Flor- ence, I can't get hout of the way of calling of her, just has she still calls me Barlow, which was my maiden name ; though she 'ave now got three children, poor dear, more's the pity ! hand I do pity the poor hinfants from my ^art, has hall children who has no reg'lar father as you may say, but one has comes honly on a job like, hoff and hon^ his to be pitied ; and I who ^ad a good \Lshan, a real one hand no sham ! one who would have give me goold to heat hif I could have heat it, — knows how to feel for them as — well, well, there his secrets bin every/a??i/?/, more hespecially among gentlefolks ; hand I do assure you, Mr. Jacobs, I should be the last person hin the world to say what his, hor what hisn't, but hoften when the tongue is silentest, the ^art is ''eaviest ; hand when I see a beautiful young lady wasting away, a dying by hinches, has the saying his, that should be so 140 BEHIND THE SCENES. very different, stuck hup in a cottage between four walls, hin a back lane between Kensingston and Brompton (the most disre- putablest j^lace I call it, among a pack of hopera singers, and kept mistresses — good for notbink hussies, flaunting in wives' and children's bread), and going by the name of Mrs. ''Enry, which I don't consider no name at all ; hand selling of her things one hafter an other, poor dear, to find shoes and clothes for her poor dear hinfants, while her ''ushan, as he calls himself, — BLACKGUARD ! / call him — drives the finest carriages and 'osses, hand with his rings, chains, studs, and jewelry, looks for hall the world like the trays of Hunt and Roskill's shop, hall hemptied bout permiscus hover one of Moses and Son's wax figures. Oh ! it's hiiifamous, scandalous, hand haggravat- ing to a degree, hand though / say nothing, for prudence his i\\Qfust dooty of a conferdential servant, yet I could say a great deal, honly what's nobody's business his heverybody's business; hand words hoften makes breaches that paving stones can't stop, as poor dear Mr. Bousefield used to say, who'd been the Dowager Countess of Coddlecat's confidential man for years, hand conserquently knew pretty well everything has was not fit to be told, hand I 'ope I shall halways do the same." Jacobs having that morning read with one of his chil- dren, the fable of " The Oak and the Reed," prudently imi- tated the wise course of the latter, and bowed his head, till this verbal hurricane had subsided, when he again mildly inquired what he could have the pleasure of doing for Mrs. Bousefield, on the present occasion. Whereupon, at this " second time of asking," she wiped her eyes with the aforesaid capacious hand- kerchief, which, in these days of commercial associations, might have served as the general lachrymary of a joint stock widow's company. After Avhich, having first announced that she had " again come all hover in one of them tre?nenjus ! heats," which was no wonder, considering the race her tongue had ran, — she opened the little green-velvet case containing the ring, and said — BEHIND THE SCENES. 141 " It his this 'ere ring Mr. Jacobs, which poor Miss Florence — leastways Mrs. ''Enry, wishes, or very far from thwt^ she don't wish it, poor thing, cause the ring belonged to her great, great, great granmar, which was given to a haunt of hers by Queen Elizabeth to give to the Hurl of Hessex to bribe him to be be- headed, hand 'aving been in the family so long, she would rather do any think than part with it, but she wants fifty guineas, hand has nothink helse worth so much." Jacobs, who had been examining the ring through a mag- nifying glass, and who, from Mrs. Bousefield's tirade, had gathered quite enough to convince him that in the midst of this rigmarole was wedged one of those myriads of inedited miseries, with which the streets, thoroughfares, courts, alleys, and by-lanes of every great city are literally paved, quietly gave her back the ring, saying — " This ring is worth considerably more than fifty guineas, therefore it would be a pity she should part with it for that, or indeed any other sum, since as you say, it's an heir-loom, and at all events it is of very rare and curious workmanship, and great intrinsic value." " But 'nty lady will be so terrible disappointed, you see, Mr. Jacobs, hif I return without the money ; hindeed, I may tell you in conference, which hof course is honly between our two selves, that his, you and me, Mr. Jacobs — the laundress hand grocer his both howed a 'eavy bill, which she promised to settle to-morrow ; and tradespeople — has you well know, being in business, hand I know, aving hen a tradeswoman myself — gets hobstroplus, hand often hinsolent, hif at least a part hof their bills his not heridicated.''^ " I did not mean that the lady should go without the money ; but I thought she might have something which she would be less reluctant to part with." " She says not, hand hindeed I'm afeared hit's only too true ; for we've been at this work now for a whole year. Qh ! I've no patience with that 'usban of hers — 'usban, indeed, black- 142 BEHIND THE SCENES. GUARD ! 1 call him ; hand I'm so tired of seeing hall her beautiful trinkets go to them 'orrid common pawnbrokers, who gives nothink for any think, for I do hleeve hif one was to bring them the cure-in-your (!) that 'ere great big diamond has was under a glass case like Van Butchel's wife, hat the Great Hex- hibition, them fellers would hactually 'ave the face to tell you, that it was of no vally hon haccount hof hit's size, so I ad oped^ as I should 'ave bin liable to ave done business with you Mr. Jacobs, and heridicated away (!) this here tiresome laundress and grocer to-morrows" "Well, I hope you will,'^ said Jacobs, taking up his hat and putting it on ; "and if you will allow me to accompany you back to Mrs. Henry's house, I have no doubt but I shall be able to find something for which I can give her the sum she w^ants, without depriving her of that ring. Ben," added he, calHng out to his son in the inner work-room, as he unlocked a high office desk in the front shop, and taking a large black leather pocket-book from it, put the latter into the side-pocket of his coat. " Ben, I'm going out, and I shall be back in a couple of hours ; but if anything should detain me longer, tell your mother not to wait supper for me." " I'm sure, sir, you hare hextremely kind, hand I railly feel more than I can hexpress,^- said Mrs. Bousefield, with one of her most captivating curtseys — but not without a secret suspi- cion, that it was her beaux yeux, that w^ere leadmg the be- witched broker all the way to Brompton at that late hour ; but all she said even to herself, was — " Well, I'm sure ladies his very fortunate, when they 'ave prudent, clever, conferdential people about them, who knows 'ow to manage their aff'airs for 'em, which they never do themselves, poor things — and 'ow should they ? " On quitting the shop, Mr. Jacobs did not offer his arm to the widow ; but this she attributed to prudential motives ; for as she remarked to herself (from whom it will be perceived she had no concealments,) — " Hof course Jews' wives ^ave their BEHIND THE SCENES. 143^ feelings like hother ^vomen, even liif they was Jewesses ; and therefore, for her part, she was very glad that Mr. Jacobs- behaved so yrudent^ for she should be the last to wish to cause kany Ao?2pleasantness betwixt man hand wife." At the end of the street they stopped a Knightsbridge omnibus, into which Jacobs (doubtless, in a continuation of the prudential vein she had ascribed to him), allowed Mrs. Bousefield to get, without any assistance from him ; neither did she on her side, appear ta entertain the same injurious suspicions of him that she had of the elderly gentleman with the divining rod of an umbrella, — ■ and yet Jacobs being a dealer and connoisseur both in antiqui- ties and curiosities, any dispassionate judge might, and in all probability would have supposed, that she ran far greater risks of capture from him than from the other; however, as if to give him some-idea of what was expected from eldei-ly gentle- men, travelling with widows and " unprotected females^^'' in omnibuses, she roused him from his decorous stupefaction, by narrating to him, with a series of illustrations that would not have discredited Cruikshank, all the perils and dangers she had incurred during her journey to Wardour Street ; concluding with this remarkable aphorism of the late Mr. Bousefield. " But Mr. Jacobs, I do hassure yoii^ sir, since I've been a lone 'ooman, without a 'usban's purtection, I hoften hand hoften think of poor dear Mr. Bousefield's words, ' SusannerJ says he^ ' Avhenever you gets into a bus, always put a basket hor a a parcel hof each side on you, so as to let hall the squeeges come hon to them; hand tliof you may be a little the worse from their bruises, hat hall events' he says — ' Susanner,' says he, ' hothers wont be none the better, hif so be has they was to turn theirselves into perfect lemon squeegers." "Very true indeed, ma'am," rejoined Jacobs, almost with a laugh ; and then relapsing into silence as before, Mrs. Bouse- field had ample leisure (the other occupants of the omnibus being only three damp school boys and a Skye terrier, all eyes and mud), to deliberate whether in the event of anything hap- 144 BEHIND THE SCENES. peiiing to Mrs. Jacobs, she could sell herself to a Jew, and put up with the dulness of Wardour Street, *' and all them hold lumbering dust-traps of curosities,^'' after the gaiety, bustle, and brilliancy of the " Fox and Fiddle," and the tumultuous rush- ings, crushing, drivings, and strivings of Holborn ; and at length having come to the conclusion, that she was not so young •' hand so hactive, nor so full of sperits " as she had been in the days of Bousefield, and as there was no likelihood of her " ^aving hany more dear hinfants^ who of course she should like brought hup as Christians," she thought, though a Jew, he was an uncommon nice man ; and would know what was due to a '•^female " under hall circumsTANces," and therefore, that she couldn't do better, though she might do worse; " but laivr ! them Jewesses was as tough as Turks, hand lived hon to the most hunaccount«6^e6'^ hages^\WQ the people in the Bible;" and this thought being a poser, — the omnibus all unconsciously keeping the unities, came to a dead stop at the corner of the Fulham Road ; whereupon, Mrs. Bousefield, putting her head out of the window, requested the coachman to back a little, and set her down " hat the Bell and ^Orns^ Upon alighting, she told Jacobs that in taking the turn leading to Old Brompton, they should have to walk about a mile to get to Magnolia Lodge, where Mrs. Henry lived ; and he then perceiving the innumerable packages with which she was laden, stretched out his hand, and offered to disencumber her of the yellow and red silk handkerchief containing the widow's cap, but she would not relinquish that highly starched golgotha, in which she still put up public sighs for " poor dear Mr. Bousefield ; " therefore she resigned into his custody the basket of grapes instead ; re- marking with a sigh, as she drew the red and yellow kerchief and its contents closer to her — " for has the Bible says, Mr. Jacobs, ' you can't get grapes from thorns,' — and these is my thorns ! so ijou may take the grapes," a distribution of wealth, which her companion — Jew that he was — appeared infinitely to prefer, after which arrangement they walked on at a brisk BEHIND THE SCENES. 145 pace, Mrs. Bousefield, as usual, doing all the talking, which, somehow or other, like the getting up of her caps and collars, never was " done to her liking^'' unless she did do it herself. A twenty minutes' walk having brought them to a green lane, nearly opposite Drayton Place, they turned down it, and stopped at an enclosed house, which was approached by two large wooden carriage gates. Having rang the bell, which returned a hollow ^nd lugaibrious sound, Mrs. Bousefield naturally concluding that Jacobs must be blind, from the little, or more properly speaking from the non-effect, her attractions had had upon him — kindly informed him that it was almost dark ; a remark to which he having given a confirmative reply, she again rang, expressing a suspicion that the inmates wxre all either dead or asleep. At length a smaller gate, within one of tbe panels of the larger ones, was opened by a sort of gardener's boy, with a watering-pot slung over his right arm, and his flat, torn straw hat very much slouched over his eyes, whom the widow apos- trophised as follows, — " Why, laws, Joe ! whathever hare you hall hat, to keep us so long a ringing here by howl-light hat the gate ? " " I win- along with father in the fur field, giving the calf Lis supper, and didn't hear the bell till just now," responded Joe. •' Giving the calf its supper ! I suspect it was a two-legged calf you were cramming, as usual; for Fm sure I'd rather have the seven plagues of Hegypt to do with hany day, than one boy! hand less plague too; for, has poor dear Mr. Bousefield used to say, w^hen he had two pages hunder him hat the Dow- ager Countess of Coddlecat's and hall her ladyship's potecary's bills to pay, — -^ Boys hand blisters his a- source hof coTt-tinual herritation ! ' But where hon hearth his Margaret, that she could not hopen the gate ; or Marlow ? " " They are both out ; there haint nobody in but father and I," replied Joe. 7 146 BEHIND THE SCENES. " What ! hand left missus hall halone with them three hin- fants! " almost screamed Mrs. Boiisefield. "You'll hexcuse me, Mr. Jacobs," said she, turning back, and stopping one moment as she hurried across the lawn, " but I must see to 7717/ lady, who them good-for-nothink servants, the moment my back was turned, has left quite alone, hand she so hill ! Just foller me, please, hand I'll show you hinto the din- ing-room, while I see hafter Mrs. 'Enry, hand tell her has you've tookt the trouble to come hand speak to her about that 'ere ring." Jacobs obeyed, begging Mrs. Bousefield would not hurry herself, as he could wait, at least for half-an-hour. Magnolia Lodge took its name from two large magnolia trees, growing in almost southern luxuriance on the lawn, and overshadowing, Avith their foliage, while they overpowered with their perfume, the dining and drawing-room of the cottage, which were opposite to each other, the hall, or vestibule, divid- ing them. The house was only two stories high, and flat roof- ed, in the Italian style, but being a double house there were six rooms on each floor, beside the oflSces, with coach-house and stabling at the back, which had a sinecure, except when Mr. Henry's cab, brougham, or saddle-hoi-ses occupied them, during those rare times when he passed a day or two at Magnolia Lodge, which was so well enclosed, and from which, being in the angle of a lane, the road was so completely shut out, that once within it, any one might have fancied themselves a hundred miles from London. Having ushered Jacobs into the dining-room, drawn up the bhnd, and placed a chair for him with considerable fussiness — for common people cannot stir a cup of tea, or pour out a glass of water, without doing it in a fussy and supererogatory man- ner, which they have an erroneous idea enhances their services — she at length closed the door upon him, and crossed the hall to the drawing-room. The last dark, crimson rays of the set- ting sun, bordered as they now were with the violet hues of a BEHIND THE SCEN'ES. 147 summer's night, were darting their expiring and shadowy light through the room and through the trelHs of a vine that shaded a back ^vindow at the further end of it. On a sofa, half reclin- ing, and propped up with pillows, was the fragile and attenuated form of a young and very beautiful woman, around whom, not- withstanding the fatal ravages consumption had evidently made, and that she was also " Begirt with growing infancy," there still lingered the soft and willowy outlines of girlhood. On her lap slept an infant of not more than five weeks old, whose calm, scarcely breathing slumbers she watched, as only mothers can watch, as if the weight of love — and it might be*of sorrow — in her own eyes, pressed down the baby's hds and sealed the sleep within them ; at her feet sat a little girl, about four years old, also asleep, with her face half hidden against her mother's knee, while her tendril-like chestnut curls fell in rich profusion over her ivory forehead and shoulders; and at some distance from her on the floor, lay pillowed, a la Van Ambzirc/h, with his head resting on that of a large brown Mount St. Ber- nard dog, and his arms round the animal's neck, a fat, chubby boy, about five, with crisp, curling brown hair, and long lashes that swept his cheeks, like lengthening evening shadows, who had evidently worried himself and his noble companion to sleep. " Oh I Barlow, how long you have been," said a soft, low voice from the sofa, as Mrs. Bousefield made her entree ; " and Margaret and Marlow have both gone out, which is very wrong of them, and there was no one to put the children to bed ; and Henry has been frightening me to death, thrusting his hands into Alp's mouth, till I really thought the poor dog, in self-de- fence, would bite him." Now, though Mrs. Bousefield was always ready, not only to join, but to exceed her mistress in any animadversions she might utter, touching the other servants, yet, from the long 148 BEHIND THE SCENES. habit engendered at " The Fox and Fiddle " of arrogating to herself a sort of pope-like infallibility, she never could admit that error and her own individual self were compatible ; but the more palpable her fault appeared to the eyes of others, the more she bore their censures, " more in sorrow than in anger," imme- diately taking her stand as a martyr, and doling out every word of her defence as slowly as possible, with a sort of sledge-ham- mer emphasis, so as that the iron might enter into the soul of her accuser ; and finally coming out strong in the injured in- nocence Hne, with a few, silent, victim (though invisible) tears, which, as the earth absorbs the dew, were always imbibed by the large pocket-handkerchief, at sight of which misery-flag, hel" adversary was sure to strike his or hers and sue for pardon, rather than risk any further scenas from Mrs. Bousefield's tragic muse. No sooner, therefore, had her mistress ventured to Hint at the length of her stay, than, suddenly pausing in the middle of the room, and between every word, she uttered the following piece of withering endurance — " and not wishing to reproach anybody" — in the tone of a saint, at least as such tones are sim- ulated in conventicles, and w^ith the look of a St. Catherine having the omnibus wheel, as that of her martyrdom, in her mind's eye. "Well, I ad oped, Miss Florence — least ways Mrs. 'En ry — that hafter the faithful services you've ad from me for years, hand your mar before you, that you knowd me better then for to think — ^let alone so lightly to haccuse me of staying long hout, when I knew has you was hill hat home. I did, hit his true, make a little delay hat Catleugh's, a chusing hon you some otouse grapes, a thinking as you would like em ; but praps I was wrong so to do, we often his wen we does for the best" — (and here the handkerchief caressed the corner of either eye), — " but hit's live hand learn, hand I shall know better hanother time." "I'm sure. Barlow, I'm very much obliged to you for the grapes, and it was very kind of you to think of them," inter- rupted her mistress. BEHIND THE SCENES. 149 " No, you liaint, Miss Florence," broke in Mrs. Bousefield, with an accelerated sense of injury ; " and there haint no hoc- casions to be obliged to me ; I consider when one does their dooty, one as the happroval hof one's own art, and that is quite sufBcient; but ladies don't go in 'buses, hand therefore hasn't no idear what a lone ooman 'as to put up with — specially a widder — though / don't consider him no husband, yet you ave the name of one, hand heven that his hof use hin purtect- ing a ooman ; similar, the same^ as them notices stuck hup hin grounds, to tell people that hif so be as they hare found trespassing, they will he persecuted to the huttermost rigour hof the law; but just has a plate oi y alter soap hand brown sugar, hin a back staircase winder, hattracts the wasps and bluebottles, I do verily believe, weeds hand a widder's cap brings hall the fellers a-buzziug about you ; and the hold uns, like the blue- bottles, his hout-hand-hout the worst ; hand hof hall the how- dacious, imperent, good-for-nothink hold Don Jupiters, vvith his humbreller ! — but no matter, hall thathamounted to nothink — but who hever do you think I sawr, hon getting hout hof the 'bus, hin Hoxford Street ? " " Not the ghost of poor Mr. Bousefield, I hope ? " said the mistress, with a faint smile. " Oh, no ; Mr. Bousefield knows better than for to go about frightening of females, hin that way ; hand, halways aving ad the abit hof staying a long time hin hall his places, I'm sure he'll continue to do the same now. No ; it was no ghost, but real flesh hand blood ; hand you might ave knocked me down with a feather, when I caught sight on him." " Why, who could it be. Barlow ? " "Ah ! who indeed ; why, your J9ar, Mr. Wilmot, himself." A faint scream escaped the young woman, who buried her face on the arm of the sofa, and burst into a passionate flood of tears. The noise woke the little sleepers, all but the infant; and Alp, at the same time giving himself a rousing shake, and thinking it necessary to inquire into the cause of the commo- 160 BEHIND THE SCENES. tion, gave one of those deep-toned, sonorous barks, peculiar to his race. The httle girl got upon a footstool, and her arras were instantly round her mother's neck, while Master Henry seized her arm, and vociferously inquired v/hat was the matter, and whether his papa had been there ? adding, with more truth than filial affection — "I hate papa, he always makes oo cry whenever he tomes." Mrs. Bousefield having briefly chastised Master Henry, and flung him this little moral axiom en 2MSsdnt — " Master Enery, my dear, it haint no business hof yours to ate your par ; you should leave that to bother people, hand there's j^^^^iy of peo- ple to do hit." She turned to his mother and said : " Now, pray, my dear Miss Florence, don't take hon so ; depend upon hit, hall things his for the best ; hand, hof course, hit's no busi- ness hof mine, being but a very umble hindividual — has hall conferdential servants his — but hif so be has you would be said by me, you'd go hat once to your par, hand hown hall to him — ^pars are not like 'usbans, they can forgive ; a child his hal- ways a child, though a wife haint halways a wife, has you, poor dear, knows to your sorrer — hang ! his hold haunt's money, say I. AVould hany man, has deserved the name of a man hand a usban, keep his wife hunder a cloud bin this ^yay, hand his marriage never howned hall these years, for hany hold ooman's money ? Hif my usban was hashamed of me, I'd be hashamed of him, hand so I'd pretty soon let him, hand hall the rest of the world, know — " " Flo, love," said the poor young mother, making a great effort over herself, " take your brother, and go into the break- fast-room, and stay there till Marlow comes in to put you to bed." The little girl kissed her mother, and silently and instantly obeyed; and Master Henry, albeit unused to such imphcit obe- dience, more especially when bed was the mooted point — yet, subdued by his mother's grief, merely shook himself, with most BEHIND THE SCENES. 151 canine earnestness, and put up his moutli also to be kissed, with- out uttering a word of resistance, after which, both the children left the room, followed by Alp ; and they had no sooner done so, than Mrs. Bousefield resumed the thread of her discourse, and the weight of her argument. "Now, my dear lady, do let me persuade you to go hand tell hall to your par ; he looks terrible broken, poor dear hold gentleman ; hand hit will be a comfort to his art, any ow, to know has you really hare married, and ivat ave become hof you ; honly think — " (and as she spoke, she took the infant gently off its mother's lap, without w^aking it, for the former seemed scarcely able to support even its little weight) " honly think, I say, what yoiu' feelings would be, has a mother, hif one hof your children was tookt away from you for six years, hand you didn't know heven whether they w^as dead hor halive ? " " But — but — Barlow — " sobbed Mrs. Henry, convulsively, "I don't even know where my poor father is to be found in London ; " for, like all persons who feel they are doing wrong, she wanted an excuse to herself, however faint, for her con- duct. " But I know — for hit never rains but hit pours, has the sayin his — hand who should I stumble hupon next, when I goes to Mr. Jacobs', in Wardour Street, habout that hare ring, but Mr. Murray — Mr. Haleiphron Murray, you know — your par's hold friend ; hif there he warn't, sure enough, a-buyin hon a picture, to send has a present to Mr. Wilmot (for you know he halways used to be makin hon im presents, hand such like), hand he bordered the picture to be sent to your par's, hat Co- lonel Chipchase's, in Palace Gardens, w^hich, you know, his close by here ; hand I'm sure that's where he his, for it was hinto a Kensino'ton 'bus has 1 saw Mr. Wilmot a-o-ettin." The qi (levant Florence Wilmot covered her face with her hands, and groaned aloud — "Oh, if I could even see Alci- phron Murray ! " she at length exclaimed. " Well, that's easy too ! " said Mrs. Bousefield, " for I heerd 152 BEHIISD THE SCfEKES. Mr. Jacobs say, has his lodgins was hin Buiy Street, St. James's." " Easy I " echoed the poor invahd. " Oh ! I dare not ; he would Dever forgive me." " Hif, by ke^ you means that ere good-for-nothink ushan of yours — hexcuse me, Miss Florence, but blackguard ! I call him, to smuggle hup hany wife has he does you ; just has hif you was so much rum brandy, hor coww^er6a?ic? baccy; henstead bof a beautiful young lady, a deal better-born nor he, that hany gent might be proud hof ; hand three beautiful hinfantSy fit for the Queen hand Prince Halbert, hor the great hexhibi- tion ! but e's no gentleman, for chains hand rings don^t make a gentleman ; hor helse hev'ry second boothe hat a fair might set. hup for one. Drat ! his chains and rings, say I ; what's his chains band rings ? hat the best, a little goold, hand a few co- lored stones ; but, for the most part, plenty of brass, hand no stint hof glass ; hand, if that his a patent for gentility I why,. poor dear Mr. Bousefield was has good a gent has hany hon 'em ; for, when 'e was butler hand valet, to the dowager count- ess hof Coddlecat, he wore chains hand rings too ; but when 'e put the ring hon my finger 1 'e knew what was doo to a ooman hand a wife ; hand when 'e promised hat the baiter to hendow me with hall his worldly goods, 'e did not think that meant a burying hon me ahve betv/een four walls, without a single com- fort hor pleasure, while V was a-flourishing h about the world with hevery lugshurry hand hextravagance ! hand when V promised to worship me with Hs body, he did not think has that meant, a kickin hon me hin Hs tantrums, with the fag bend hon hit ! as your usban (blackguard ! I call him) does you I oh, no, very different from that ! for, hif so be has I could 'ave heat goold, I might 'ave 'ad it ; hand poor dear Mr. Bousefield would 'ave give me diamonds hon the top of that agin ; hand has for takin' a ride hin the chay without me — tho' we kep' a four wheeler, too — 'e'd as soon 'ave thought of flyin'. Hev'ry Sunday, has reglar has the day come, hit was ' Susannev, my BEHIND THE SCENES. 153 dear, how do you feel dispoged ? the oss and his master his both hat your service ; ' for, 'aving lived so long with the Dow- ager Countess of Coddlecat, he was a particular genteel man was Mr. Bousefield ; very much so ; but would I ! be mewed hup for liany man has yon hare ; hand driv here, hand poked there, hon the hodd times, my usban (usban, indeed, black- guard ! I call him) chose to come hand make a perfect chim- hley hof the 'ouse, with his nasty smokin'. I 'ate those nasty harhitary* dispositions, has wants hevery think for self, hand don't think the world wide enough for hany body helse. . No ; before I'd submit to such treatment, I'd raise the world pretty well habout his hears, that I w^ould ; hat hall events, I'd go to my par, hand tell him hevery think, hand get hout of that fel- ler's clutches as soon has I could. I'm very sure, hif your poor dear mar was halive, she'd give you the same advice. I honly know, that hif so be has you 'ad a brother, I would go to him, hand, has your usband his so fond hof puttin' hevery think hon his hown back, we'd soon see how 'e'd like the feel hof a oss- whip hon it, which I tliiuk his the suitablest wear for gents of his descripj;ion." Hercules himself occasionally reposed from his labours, and even Mrs. Bousefield's tongue (perpetual motion not having 3"et been discovered,) sometimes required rest, so for a second she paused, quickly adding, however : "Hand tho I aven't got the strength of a fly, shouldn' I like to 'ave the layin of it accrosst his shoulders ! " Apparently the mere thought was exhilarating, for she im- mediately subjoined, " There ! hif I aven' come hall hover in one of them tre- menjus great eats again I But do, do, my dear lady, be said by me," she continued, as the large pocket-handkerchief per- * It will be perceived, that Mrs. Bousefield, with her usual ofF-hand way of doing business, had fused the two vices of selfishness and ty- ranny into the one woi'd "arbitrary: " a very common species of ver- bal chemistry among persons of her class. 154 BEHIND THE SCENES. formed the double function of fan and towel, " hand go to your par, hand tell him hall." Now this advice, though sound, was not quite disinterested, (advice seldom is) for sooth to say, Mrs. Bousefield was more than tired of playing the part of a lost Pleiad, at Magnolia Lodo-e, when, at the termination of the continental tour poor Florence Wilraot had made after her fatal elopement, she had written to her mother's old maid, asking if she would come and superintend her little menage — the latter "had consented with great alacrity to do so, and flown from the cottage at Padding- ton, w'here her " widowed art " had taken refuge. For Mrs. Bousefield, being much addicted to genteel comedy, and the Minerva Press, w^as a great theoretical admirer of elopements, always imagining them to be a sort of matrimonial mosaic of moonlight, myrtles and moustachios, Brussels lace, blush- roses, and postilions. But when she arrived at Magnolia Lodger perched up on the top shelf of a bye lane, as she herself ex- j)ressed it, and found only tivo maids without even one footman I and two young children, with a third expected, her romantic feelings suddenly and greatly cooled down, and upon a further acquaintance with " Miss Florence's ushan^'' her dislike of, and indignation against him grew so excessive, that every pin she stuck into the " Welcome, Sw^eet Babe," pincushion, with the construction of which she solaced her leisure hours, she devout- ly wished, with a true Catherine de Medici resolution of purpose, that she had been sticking into the '^ art of that good-for-noth- ink feller,^'' the progenitor of the "sweet babe." And poor Florence — what did she wish ? Why, what many a misguided girl has done before, and will, it is to be feared, do again, namely, that she had died before she had left her father's roof, and repaid with deception and ingratitude, the tried and legiti- mate affection of years, to peril her fate, her life, her all, upon the false vows and spurious love of a comparative stranger. The heaviest sin-tax retributive justice imposes upon those who deviate from the right path, is the compulsory necessity 'of t?.k- BEHIND THE SCENES. 155 ing into their coDfidence inferior and often unworthy natures ; this tax had poor Florence long paid by instalments to her mother's former maid, but now, in order to obtain a cessation from her torturing entreaties to disclose her marriage and pres- ent abode to her father, she was compelled to undergo the still further humihation of confessing to her that she dared not do so, as her husband, having w^anted a few months of being of age when he married her, their marriage, if he or his family chose to dispute it, would not be considered binding ; * * The reader may perhaps be surprised that Florence should have been so ignorant as to have been deluded by such a tale; but besides her only having been seventeen at the time of marriage, he must recol- lect that English young ladies of a much maturer age, (thanks to their for the most part false and very superficial education, began by vulgar foreign governesses, and capped by their mother tongue, as it flows in all its mutilations and vulgar corruptions from English maid-servants) are seldom even well versed in the history, let alone the laws, of their own country ; and Florence AVilmot's unprincipled husband had terri- fied her by showing her a document purporting to be an extract from " Cripp's Ecclesiastical Law," stating that " all marriages celebrated by license when either of the parties are under the age of twenty-one years (not being a widow, or a widower,) without the consent of the father, if he were living, or of the mother or guardians, shall be abso- lutely void." But the real passage is preceded by this sentence — "It was at one period the law of this cowtitry that all marriages celebrated hy license, c&c," and followed by this after nullifying clause, the words *' should be absolutely void ; " but such provision, however, was found to be contrary to general policy, and has been repealed. Such a mar- riage, although without consent, is now valid, and the parties could not again contract. As for Mrs. Bousefield, like all persons of her class, laws with her, like those of the Medes and Persians, "altered not." She had innumerable fag ends of old laws jostling each other through her brain, but with recent acts of Parliament, and repeals, she could not be expected to keep pace ; but still she knew the great broad laws of God, which are immutable, and which, from the lucidity of their perfection, are palpable even to the dullest capacities and most blunted perceptions : therefore had Florence taken her advice, of ap- pealing to, and confiding in her sole remaining parent, and legitimate 15G BEHIND THE SCENES. that all bis expectations of future subsistence were from bis aunt, whose avarice and ambition would never brook bis hav- ing married the portionless daughter of a country clergyman. At hearing this, Mi-s. Bousefield, to do her justice, groaned in unaffected and unmixed sorrow, at length muttering — " Oh ! the orrid villand, he his beven worse than I thought him, for bat that rate bit bis honly a Brummagem marriage baf- ter ball ! Well, well, you are right ; don't do any think to herritate him, bor not content with breakin your art, e might break your marriage, the bartful blackguard ! I call him, to get any decent 'ooman binto such a trap has that ! Why didn't you never binsist upon his marrying bof you hover agin, when he was of hage ? Not but what once being tied, beven with a slip-knot to such a feller, was quite henougb. Oh ! bif poor dear Mr. Bousefield was but alive — but there's no use bin wishing for hunpossibilities. Gome, there's a dear lady, don't take hon so ; we must ope has hall bis for the best ; hand I've brought a Mr. Jacobs, who've behaved very andsome about that ring, for he says has bits worth a deal more money than you bask for bit ; hand so he came to see has bif so be has 3'OU adn't somethink helse has you could let him ave, of less valley, for the fifty pounds ? " To those overwhelmed with one great and chronic grief, there is a relief even in the small change of petty cares, and so poor Florence found, for drying her eyes, she said — " But unfortunately, Barlow, I have nothing else, at least nothing that is worth anything like fifty pounds ; but it was very honest of him to own that the ring was worth more, and very kind of him to come. I am sorry be has been kept wait- ing, you had better show him in." " Ah ! band bif some people would heredicate away some protector, she might, even at this late stage of her fatal error, have been saved a world of misery and remorse, but alas ! alas ! the revocare gradus is the greatest punishment of sin, because the most difficult and often impossible part of repentance. BEHIND THE SCENES. 15? hof their rings, chains and conundrums, they would turn hinto a deal hof beef, mutton, groceries and clothes, hand save you being skinned like a heel for heverlasting, poor young creeter," muttered Mrs. Bousefield, as she left the room. In the hall she met Marlow, leading off the other two children, and to her she also consigned the baby, briefly saying to her for the present (which, like a solitary clap of thunder, served as a prelude to a future storm) — "Hits to me the most hunaccountablest thing, to think that the hinstant my back was turned, both you hand Margaret should presume to gohout and leave Mrs. Enry hall halone with them three poor dear hinfants, hand she so hill." And so saying, she snatched up a hand-candle from the hall table and lit it from the one the nurse held in her hand ; after which, she opened the dining-room door, and gliding in as far as the centre of the room, she there dropped one of those obsequious and fascinating curtseys, such as she used to treat her best cus- tomers to in the palmy days of " The Fox and Fiddle." " Mrs. Enery his Aea;ceedingly hobliged to you, Mr. Jacobs, for your kindness in having taken the trouble to come hout hall this way, hand hextremely sorry to ave kept you waiting so long ; but aving a young famli/ to hattend to, you, Mr. Jacobs, has a father hand a usban yourself, can hunderstand that there his things that can be better himagined than described ! " This last beautifully rounded period Mrs. Bousefield had carefully retained from one of her favourite Minerva Press fictions, enti- tled, '-Lavinia; or, the Victim of Love," which she had that morning been reading ; and she thought, as she declaimed it with all the dignity of a tall lady in red cotton velvet, with a long train, and a gold paper tiara, whom she had once seen in the role of Statira, at Saddler's Wells, that if ever man was ex- cusable in wishing to commit Wijiclde! Jacobs would be that man on that night 1 Upon Jacobs' entrance, Florence tried to rise, in order the better to thank him, but he begged of her to remain seated. 158 BEHIND THE SCENES. and at once entered upon the business which had brought him, by Baying— " The ring, Ma'am, which you were good enough to submit to my inspection, is so much more valuable than you seem to be aware of, that I have brought it back, as it would be a great pity you should part with it, even for its full value, as it is one of those things which money cannot always purchase, and I thought you might have something less rare, for which I should be very happy to give you the sum you require." " You are very good, and I feel your kindness as it deserves, I assure you ; it is a struggle for me to part with that ring, as it was my mother's, and has been in our'family for centuries, in fact, it was given to an ancestress of mine, in James the First's time, by Lady Hunsdon, to whom Queen- Elizabeth had given it in one of her ' Progresses,' when she stopped at Lord Hunsdon's, and it was said to be the counterpart of the ring which EHzabeth had given to poor Lord Essex." " Well, that makes it still more valuable," remarked Jacobs. " Yes," sighed Florence ; " but you know necessity has no law." " The more reason, and the more chance then, that it should have y^is^zce, Ma'am," rejoined Jacobs. " But, unfortunately, I really have nothing else at all worth the sum I require." " Pardon me, but here is something that perhaps you will not miss so much," said Jacobs, walking up to a small oil paint- ing, consisting of a group of three badly-drawn figures, meant for angels, which hung in a recess at one side of the mantel- piece. " Oh ! that is a mere daub," said Mrs. Henry ; " not worth fifty shillings, much less fifty pounds." " You underrate it," replied Jacobs, taking it down, and aflfecting to examine it minutely in every sense ; " for it is, or I am much mistaken, one of Domenico Micharino's, and I shall be very happy to give you fifty pounds for it." BEHIND THE SCENES. 159 " Oh ! impossible ! it does not appear to me to be even of the Florentine school." " Yes, I think it is in his early manner, when he was still with his benefactor, Beccafnmi, before he placed him with Tozzo Capanna at Siena." Even this illustrious parentage, which Jacobs, with great delicacy and good feeling, so glibly invented for the daub he held in his hand, did not quite deceive the poor invalid, who said, as the tears welled up in her eyes, " You are very, verij good, very kind ; but I am convinced that daub cannot be worth fifty pounds, and I should be cheat- ing you were I to take it." " Well, but my good lady," laughed Jacobs, appropriating the picture bj wrapping it up in his handkei'chief, and then tak- ing the black leather pocket-book fi-om his side-pocket, and ab- stracting therefrom two £20 notes and two £5, and laying them on the table, '• Only think, if it is so, what a feather it will be in your cap to have it to say that, gentle and feminine as you looh^ you have outdone all the cle\er and fast men in London, by actually doing a Jew ! " " But as my ambition does not lie that way, you must ex- cuse my selecting you for my victim," said Florence, with a melancholy smile. " Don't you know," retorted Jacobs, as he prepared to leave the room with the picture under his arm, " that there is no res- cue for willing victims ? " " Ha ! very true Ae?ideed, Mr. Jacobs," sighed Mrs. Bouse- field, with a look which, to requote her quotation, "may be more easily imagined than described." " Do not think me ungrateful for your kindness, which, be- lieve me, I feel to its uttermost extent," cried Florence, as she tottered towards him before he had reached the door, and laid her shadowy hand upon his arm to arrest his departure ; " but I cannot accept the money you have left for that worthless daub, without you will oblige me by, at all events, keeping this ring 160 BEHIND THE SCENES. till I have repaid you what I can only consider as a loan, and a most kind one." " My dear lady, if you think that your ring would be safer in my house than in yours, T will most willingly take charge of it for you, but I do assure you you owe me nothing, only it is not civil of you to decry "niy -pictures ; every one is not such a terrible connohseur as you seem to think yourself; and even connoisseurs, you know, often pay dearly for their ignorance, therefore I have no doubt that, with a little judicious vamping up, my Micharino will realise its full value, for I should be sorry to send you a Flemish account of a Florentine picture ! " "But you will keep this ring till I repay you, will you not ? " re-urged Florence. " As I before said, I will with pleasure take care of it for you ; but mind it must be upon the express condition that it is to have no reference whatsoever to our little transaction about this picture ; on the contrary, as long as this ring remains in my keeping, you may consider that you have £500 at your banker's, for that is wdiat I consider (speaking within bounds) is about the value of it." Beyond a certain point, it becomes ingratitude to reject an obligation that is delicately as well as generously offered. Flor- ence felt this, and therefore made no further demur about ac- cepting Jacobs' kindness, but merely extended her hand to him, leaving within his, as she shook it, the little green velvet case containing Lady Hundson's ring. " Mrs. Bousefield, not thinking the moon sufficient, took the candle to reconduct Jacobs across the lawn, not, however, with- out having first pressed upon his acceptance " a cup of tea, hor a glass of ot negus ; such as she used to make for poor dear Mr. Bousefield." But being a sultry night in June, he resisted all these Circean blandishments, and walked steadily to the gate, merely stopping to wnsh his conductress good night, and ask her where was the nearest place he should meet w'ith an omnibus. As the gate closed upon him, and the widow retraced her steps BEHIND THE SCENES. 161 across the lawn, she silenced the nightingales with the follow- ing soliloquy : " Homnibus, hindeed ! 'busses was hinvented before Horani- buses. Poor dear Mr. Bousefield would not have wanted hany ooman to tell him where to find a 'buss ; but laws ! the men's such a pack of noodles now, very different from what they used to be." SECTION" V. "Ye have need of patience."— SeJ. x. 36. " He has every thing that an honest man Should not have. Of what an honest man Should have, he has nothing."— /SAa^s^ere. " And deadlier than the Syroc, or Simoom, Unkindness, blighting young affection's bloom. In nature's darkest frowns there lurks below, No deeper vengeance that survives the blow." Ladt/ Marshall's Odds and Ends." Mrs. Bousefield had scarcely regained the hall door, before a loud and violent ringing at the gate obliged her to return, more, it must be confessed, out of curiosity than complaisance, for she '■'■ dratted ! " the gate (whatever that means) the whole -way she went, and muttered : " Swiffins himself w^ould have give way hunder the co}^tinual ringing of that ere gate bell, thouo-h e ad the legs of a chairman, whereof I avent got those of a fly," which, exclusive of the comphment to Swiffins (who had been the Dowager Lady Coddlecat's porter) was strictly true nevertheless ; and notwithstanding this great anatomical disadvantage, which Mrs. Bousefield seemed to think she labour- ed under, she reached the gate with equal, if not greater celer- ity, and still continuing her theories of creation out of this en- tomological chaos, she seemed to have purloined the sting of a BEHIND THE SCEXES. 163 wasp for the end of her tongue, determined to give the visitors (whoever it might be,) the benefit of it, as she pulled open the gate with so violent a jerk, that had she not clung to the han- dle as pertinaciously as she did to her weeds, it must have knocked her down more'effectually, than any feather yet moult- ed from the wing of Time ; nor did the intense glare of two patent carriage lamps, coming full in her eyes, add to her good humour, more especially when she perceived the well-known dark green striped brougham, with its wheels picked out in cream colour, and bright silver centres, while the impatient paw- ing of the high-mettled and thorough-bred chestnuts, seemed to partake of the nature of their owner. Not giving the servant time to get down, the occupant of the carriage, a young man in full dress — for he was going out to a dinner — jumped out, near- ly flooring Mrs. Bouseiield in his hurry, which was no won- der, since Pope has told us that "A wit'a Vi feather." "How's your mistress, Barlow ?" said he, as he rushed past her. Now, notwithstanding the widow's rooted aversion to this personage, who was no other than Florence's husband, yet so strong was her respect for carriages, and horses, and all the out- ward and visible signs of wealth, which she shared in common with all persons of her class, that had his satanic majesty come m propria persona^ m so unexceptionable a turn-out, however her olfactory nerves might have been offended by the sulphu- reous odour on his handkerchief, of " Extrait cCKnfer,^'' or her eye for the beautiful have been shocked by the unsymmetrical cleft of his feet, yet nevertheless, her curtsey would have been as deferential as it was in the present instance, when she re- plied to Mr. Henry's query : " She's hany think but well, sir ; hand I don't see has she his hever likely to be hotherwise bin this mopified solemn- 164 BEHIND THE SCENES. choly* land's liend, hor ratlier gravis hend, / call it, sort of place." " Ah I " said Mr. Henry, stopping suddenly short in his on- ward career and pulling his under lip, "you think this place too dull for her? Well, I have long tht)ughtso; and, indeed, I see and feel she wants change of air ; she is always so much better abroad, but I cannot persuade her. Now, I wish yf)u, Mrs. Bousefield, as a sensible, experienced woman, would try and convince her that she — that is, that her health would be so much better abroad ; the change of scene ; the change of air ; in short, the whole thing would be better." Now it so happened, that in his ordinary commerce with the widow, Mr. Henry called her Barlow ; and it was only on special occasions, like the present, when he wished to gain her " vote and interest " for any particular point, that he bestowed upon her her magniloquent matronly title of Bousefield. So well aware was she of this fact, that she invariably began to starch up into the same sort of inflexible, unyielding rigidity as one of her own widow's caps, when he so addressed her, being perfectly aware that he wanted something from her, and equally determined to withhold that something ; or, at least, grant it as unwillingly as possible ; moreover, the wooden gates had now shut out the dazzling equipage from her view, and nothing but the objects of her rooted aversion, the obnoxious chains, studs, and rings, glittered before her ; therefore, tightly folding her armSj as if to gird her stern resolve more firmly around her, she replied in her driest and most ungracious tone, with the usual emphatic pause between every word — "Hit his because I ham han hexperienced ooman, sir, both has wife and widder, that I could not think hof recommending hof Mrs. Enery to go habroad, hunless she ad the purtection of a usban, hand such comforts has a lady orght to ave ; for I * This delicious word is Sam Slick's, and is worthy of finding its way into the lexicons of at least all soleinncholy nations, like England. BEHIND THE SCENES. 165 know what furrin parts his too well, without neither feather beds nor footmen, nor hany one hindividual thing to make life hen- durable, hever to think hof recommending hof hany lady, let alone one hin the delicat state hof ealth hof Mrs. Enery, to hen- counter with hany think hof the sort, hunless, as I said before, you was to haccompany hof her has a usban, hand have as sich, with a courier fargone,* and such like ; hon the contraivi/, my hadvice, has far has such a umble individgel has a conferden- tial servant may persume to give hadvice, would be, donH go ; for / wouldn't go for to be poked hofF hout hof the way for nobody ! — that I wouldn't." " Oh ! I mean to join her the moment the House is up,'' said Mr. Henry, caressing what Mrs. Bousefield was wont to denominate "one of them little tiveedledum^ ridiclus curW'' of his right whisker ; for it appears that the late " Mr. Bouse- field " was not in the habit of dividing his whiskers into sections in this manner, but went on " the greatest happiness of the greatest number " system, and brushed them out into one grand universal equality. "Ha!" muttered Mrs. Bousefield, as she followed "Mrs, Enery's master," as she called him into the hall, " most ladies, I should think, was pretty well hup to wot the ouse means by this time; for them two ouses hof parliament haint nothink more than ha reglar blind hand harbour for hall the goings hon hof the gents hof hevery kind, for when hever they'se been hafter hany think has they shouldn't (which his pretty well the honly think has they hever his hafter), hof course it's halways ' I've been down hat the ouse, my dear,' hand so, hof course, they ave^ at some sort of ouse hor bother ! though for that mat ter hit his much hof a muchness, six hof one, a//'-a-dozen hof the bother." And with this concluding reflection she flung open the * It is supposed that Mrs. Bousefield meant a.fourgon; but, as "^a pelle se moque du fourgon" — and she was evidently enacting the former, — she transformed the latter into faro;one. 1()6 BEHIND THE SCENES, drawing-room door, if not with the grace, at least with all the a2:)lo7nh of a groom of the chambers, and announced — "Mr. Enery, mum !" "Well, my dear Flo, how do you feel to-day?" said he, holding out two fingers to her, but at the same time stopping before a glass to arrange his hair, so that in order to take them she must have risen from the sofa and walked half-way across the room, which she did not do. Having at length sufficiently hyperionised himself, as he conceived, he walked to the sofa, and seated himself beside her. " Really, my dear Florence," cried he, aff"ecting to look into her pale and wasted face with much concern, " I am quite un- happy about you ; this place evidently does not agree with you ; I must get you abroad, my dear love, and I will join you the moment the House is up." " Oh, no ! I would rather remain quietly here ; I feel I could never bear the journey," said the poor invalid, with a hollow cough, that but too well confirmed her assertion; after which she added, stretching out her hand towards the bell, as if she dreaded a tete-d-tete wdth her husband, " I don't think the children are in bed yet ; do wish them good-night, Henry." " Oh ! for heaven's sake, don't disturb them," cried he, lay- ing his hand on hers to prevent her ringing the bell ; " pray my dear Florence, spare me their quotidian paw^ings, and when they grow^ up I shall be happy to receive the aggregate of their filial duty and aff"ection." The poor mother sighed ; the husband frownied ; for there is no conjugal high treason like sighs or tears, before the cause of them. " Come, Florence," he resumed, taking her small thin hand in his, " don't be foolish ; is there anything you wish for, or anything that you wish to do ? " " Oh, Henry ! " she exclaimed, bursting into tears, as her head fell upon his shoulder, from which he rather recoiled, for the ice within dreaded lest the snowy folds of his cambric shirt BEHIND THE SCENES. 167 should be deranged, " Do, do let me only tell my father where I am, and that I am your wife^ and not your mistress, which I'm sure the Avhole neighbourhood, including your servants, think me ; he is in town, close by here, in Palace Gardens ; Barlow saw him to-day, and she says he looks both broken, and broken-hearted." Upon hearing this, her husband effectually shook her off, and starting from the sofa, paced the room with folded arras, and sternly-knit brows, as he champed his nether lip till the blood nearly flowed from it ; at length, pausing opposite his wife, he said, in a half-reproachful, half-resigned voice — " I see, Florence, you are bent upon ruining me. I don't even blame you, perhaps the proceeding is a natural one ; I only doubt whether, under the peculiar circumstances of our position, it is a very humane one ; but the world will, of course, acquit you, and I hope, upon reflection, your own heart will do the same ; you are aware that our marriage once known, all my future prospects in life are blasted — all hope of a single six- pence from my aunt is at an end. But, of course, you are my wife ; only remember, your tenure of the title is mij honour f'' However a man that she had once loved may pile up the faggots for a woman's auto-da-fe^ the moment a spark flies out from the pyre upon him, and that he winces under it, her heart immediately softens, and yearns towards him ; and so did that of Florence, at her selfish husband's insinuation — of her exoner- ation being his ruin ; but the last dastardly inuendo of her merely being his wife upon suflferance, or the impalpable tenure of his honour ! and above all, the withering sneer with which it was uttered, froze up all her gushing feehngs, and she drew up, cold, calm, and impassable, as if she had been a statue, or had become stone of his stone ! such perfect marble did she feel towards him. But he soon perceived his error, and endeavoured to repair it ; for no one was better aw^•^re, that more flies are caught with honey than by vinegar ; and when a scheme had to be worked out, and a point to be carried, he knew, that even 16$ BEHIND THE SCENES. with a wife (that legitimate target), blows and threats were not the arms wherewith to insure a victory ; so, changing his tac- tics, he now approached, and taking her hand, said, — " Forgive me, Florence, if I said anything to wound you, which was the farthest possible thing from my intention, I do assure you ; but when a man is badgered and hunted from without, and finds no comfort in his home, only constant tears and reproaches, and has no future prospect but ruin staring at him from an eminence, he is not always master of himself." " Ah ! if this was your home, Henry, humble as it is, you might perhaps find more happiness in it, than you do in the brilliant but hollow world beyond it," she rephed, raising her tearful eyes to his. " Well, well, and so it would be in time, if my own Flo would only hsten to reason ; " and he passed his arm round her waist, and drew her coaxingly towards him, " Oh, Henry, have I not listened for six long miserable years to what you call reason, till I h^ve nearly lost my own ? " " But listen to me now, my own dear love. If we were abroad, you might then write to your father, declaring our mar- riage, only enjoining him to secrecy." " It's no marriage, and you know it," broke in Florence, passionately. " Well, but — the moment my aunt dies — and hang it, she i:an''t live for ever, though old women are most pertinaciously obstinate about their vitality — it has always been my intention to marry you over again, and so make my own little Flo doubly mine, thereby proving to all the world how much ' the wife is dearer than the bride,' " which last quotation he enunciated in a theatrical tone of stage devotion. " Oh ! Henry, Henry ! " cried Florence, solemnly, " there must be, there will be, depend upon it, a curse upon any bridal where death is waited for, as the high priest, to celebrate it." " Who told you I was waiting for any death to marry ? " almost shrieked her husband, as he darted from her, as if a ser- pent had stung him, while his eyes glared like a tiger at bay. BEHIND THE SCENES. 169 " Heavens ! how you frighten me ! Did you not yourself say, that when your aunt died — " " True, true, love, what a fool I am," said he, re-seating him- s^f beside her, and passing his handkerchief over his forehead, as if with that one gesture he had thrust back a whole infernal legion ; but, my own Flo, you are not well ; and we will talk of oLir future plans some other time." " There is no future for some, but eternity," sighed the poor sufferer, as she covered her face with her hands, as if, at all events, she was anxious to shut out the present. " My little wife is low and hipped, and decidedly I must get her out of this," said her companion, caressingly, " for as that'd — d long-tongued molehill, overgrown Avith weeds Bar low, says, the place is too dull and secluded for you." " Not so, Henry : would it were even more so — a perfect tomb — provided it could hide me from every one, but most of all, from myself!" Another strong frown, knit, like an iron vice, the gentle- man's brow, but he quickly exchanged it for a smile, as he said, — " I had come to ask my little Flo a favour, one which I don't think she'll refuse me ; will she ? " " Alas, what is there left me, either to give, or to refuse ? " " Yes, yes, my own love, there is — for instance, to give me the greatest happiness, by consenting to go abroad, and take care of your health ; or else to entail upon me the greatest misery, by refusing to do so." " I thought," said Florence, languidly, " we were not to talk of that any more to-night." " Neither will we, it shall be all as my little Flo pleases. And now for my request, which is, that you would lend me that ring of Lady Hunsdon's, as I am to dine at Lord Antwerp's to- da}^, and he is all cinque cento, so I want to show it to him." " How very unfortunate that I have not got it here ; but 1*70 BEHIND THE SCEKES. to-morrow I could get it for you," said poor Florence, as a crim- son flush suffused her pale cheek. " Not got it here I why what on earth have you done with it?" " I — I — had two bills that must be paid to-morrow ; and I wanted fifty pounds, and so I gave that ring as , security for it." " Wanted fifty pounds ! and so gave a ring worth several hundreds as security for it. I say nothing of the egregious folly of such a proceeding ; but I wonder your sense of pro- priety did not point out to you the indignity of such a transac- tion on the part of my wife ! " " Ah ! who knows that I am your wife, Henry ? — or any- body's wife ; and how am I to pay the house bills, when you always tell me you have no money, and that I must wait." " Money ! " echoed Mr. Henry, rising, and actually endanger- ing the sit of his hair, by thrusting the fingers of both hands through it, " d — n me if I don't think women believe that men are made of money ; it must be devilish bad management to be always wanting money for this small house. Why don't you feed those brats upon oatmeal and potatoes ? No children so hardy and healthy as those of the Scotch and Irish peasantry who are so fed. I have certain theories about the training of children ; and now, once for all, positively forbid their being stuffed with beef and mutton till they become little premature obesities." " But it is not only their food, which is very trifling, for they are not crammed with beef and mutton, but they must be clothed too; and even the smallest establishment, however eco- nomically conducted, is a continual source of expense, for ser- vants must eat, at least I know they will do so." " Must be clothed ! another prejudice that I particularly object to. Read Rousseau's Emilius ; let them sprawl about almost naked; that is the way to rear them, if you would have healthy children, and not little puny, stunted beings." " I have read Rousseau at your request, and the beauty of BEHIND THE SCENES. 171 his style only appeared to me to bring out into stronger relief the hideousness of his moral obliquity, and his gross and reckless violation of all the laws even of Nature, the only Divinity wliich he professed to worship, nor did her high Priestess Truth fare one bit better at his hands." " Oh ! so we are erecting ourselves into a critic," sneered the husband, suddenly pausing in his peripatetics, and looking with glaring eyes at his victim. " But permit me to assure you, ma- dam, that sarcasm disfigures a woman's mouth, even more than wrinkles." " I am not sarcastic," rejoined Florence mildly, " at least, I did not intend to be so. I merely meant to say, that I did not think the precepts of a bad man, however faultless the style might be with which he gilt them, could ever be good or de- sirable guides, and what I once heard one of Rousseau's compa- triots say of him, I think was a just estimate of the man; he said that instead of being ' L'homme de la nature, et de la v&rite^ as he called himself, he was in reality Vhomme de beaux senti- ments, et d^ndignes actions ! " " AVhat a d — d narrow-minded beast your friend must have been ! quite incapable of comprehending such a vast genius as Rousseau's." " I don't know whether he was narrow-minded, but I know he had a large heart, and was a thoroughly good man in every relationship of life." Again Mr. Henry frowned, but this time it was with the ac- companiment of a shrug of the shoulders, as he said, " Well^ there is no use in w'omen talking about what they don't under- stand, or in expecting that the finite should appreciate the infinite ; but, may I ask into whose hands you so imprudently (and I must say with such a total disregard to my honour and your own dignity) entrusted that very valuable ring, which of course you will never see again ; for having got it on such easy terms, the man would be a fool to give it up." " You wrong him, I assure you," said Florence warmly, " for 172 BEHIND THE SCENES. nothing could be more generous, nay, more noble, than his con- duct ! for he gave me the fifty pounds for a small picture worth in reality nothing, and wanted not even to take the ring at all, which he said was worth £500, but T insisted that he should at least keep it till I had repaid him the fifty pounds ; and yet this man was a Jew. Would that there were more Christians like him ! " " And pray what is the name of this Mosaic dove ? or goose, perhaps, would be the more appropriate epithet for him." " His name is Jacobs, he keeps one of those curiosity shops in Wardonr Street." " Hell ! and the Devil ! " vociferated her husband with al- most maniac fury, " the idea of your becoming lid with that fellow ! When, where in the name of Lucifer did you become acquainted with this man ? " " Really, Henry, you alarm me, for you speak of him as if he were a fiend, whereas he struck me as being one of the kind- est and most benevolent of men, though I can't say that I know him, for I never saw him before to-day." " And how came you to see him to-day ? " asked her com- panion, his eyes flaming, and his voice gasping between every word, as if his throat had been as dry and calcined as an extinct volcano. " It was Barlow, whom I trusted with my ring to dispose of, who brought him here, for he was too honest to take advan- tage of my necessity." " Here ! so he has been here ! in this — in my house ! And he knows who you are ! " " He knows that I am called Mrs. Henry ! " replied Flor- ence, with a look so cold, so penetrating, so almost contemptu- ous, that it reduced the burning rage of her husband's cheek into the ashy pallor of shame. He seemed to ponder for a few seconds, and then resuming his caressing, wooing tone, said, as he re-seated himself beside her, and took her burning but almost shadowy hand, — " Forgive me, my dear Florence, all my wayward violence, but BEHIND THE SCENES. IfS men have ten thousand shoals and quic'ksands in public life, which women in the safe harbours of their own homes never dream of" ''But why should thev not dream of them ? I do not ask to share your happiness or your triumphs, Heniy ; but surely your sorrows and your dangers, if I am your wife ! I have a right to share. What is the use of my being plunged in the midst of this sea of troubles, if I may not at least serve as a Pharos to you in time of danger ? Tell me — do tell me who and what this man is who seems so good, so kind, that he should be your enemy ? " This phoenix-like devotion, rising up bright and pure as it did. from out the ashes of an extinct love, almost — "Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek." Besides, extremes meet, and never oftener than in bad natures, for all the passions being, as Balzac truly says, " essentially Jes- uitical,^'' they never move but in triplets, namely the pro and the con, accompanied by the prudential ambassador, who has to report to the Grand Inquisitor SELF. Mr. Henry, therefore, perceived that fusion, and not freezing, w^as the process by which he could best mould his victim to his purposes. " Florence ! " cried he, folding her in his arms, " you are an angel, and I will yet be worthy of you, or, at least, I will try to be so. When I called this Jacobs my enemy, the term was perhaps too strong, and, therefore, inappropriate ; for enmity implies individuality ; whereas, national and party antipathies are too diffuse and diluted to come within the pale of personal animosity ; but though you don't trouble that pretty little head about politics, you must know that I have made myself rather obnoxious lately to the Israelites, by the active part I have taken in ' The Jewish Disabilities Bill ; ' and, therefore, I will send my own darling a check for £50 to-morrow, and she must get back her ring from this Jacobs, and projnise me to have no more to do with him, for it is more than probable that this man is my enemy." 174 BEHIND THE SCENES. " You know the Italian proverb?" said Florence, with a melancholy smile, ' a thousand probabilities dotiH make one fact;'' and this Jacobs appeared to me too good to be anybody's ene- my ; but, of course, as you wish it I will not have any further communication with him, though it grieves me to think that I shall not see again one who was so very kind to me in an emer- gency." Another frown knit her husband's brow, but he concealed it by bending forward to kiss and thank her for this concession. Time was when half the assumption of kindness which he had displayed at this interview, would have winged her spirit to- wards the highest heaven ; but now that poor, crushed spirit had so long been a solitary wanderer amid the desolate marshes and quagmires of disappointment, and had been so often lace- rated against the sharp and flinty inequalities of that rugged and sinking soil, that even the soft shadow cast by the white wings of the Angel of Hope ! as it flitted for a moment across her heart, weighed at first too heavily upon her, and oppressed in- stead of cheering her. Still, in that brief transit it had fulfilled its mission of mercy and of healing, for her tears, usually bitter as the waters of Mara, now fell soft and genial, like Hermon's dew upon her soul, till it was no longer sunk in the depths of despond, but floated buoyantly, for some seconds, higher and higher beyond the narrow fretting confines of this limited and preliminary existence, into w^orlds of graduated perfection and indescribable grandeur, such as it is given to minds of the highest, that is, of the purest order to catch glimpses of from out the loop-holes of their own immortality ! There sat united, yet widely separated, those two opposite natures — the one chastened and spiritualised, till it was made almost " perfect through tribulation ; " the other, hardened in self-suflBciency ; puffed up with worldly prosperity, and " of the earth, earthy," in its every emanation, the whole being alone vivified by the pale, cold beam of intellectuality, which, when not ruled by the sanctifying influences of a higher orb, creates 13EHIND THE SCENES, l75 and keeps the passions reptiles, wkicli, though called into exist- ence by a ray from above, yet delight to wallow in, and never quit their native mire. Alas ! poor human nature ! when will it learn that vanquished selfishness is the aegis of a deeper wis- dom and a purer happiness than any behind which it has yet taken refuge, in the hope of subduing and of acquiring ; for even Omnipotence does not suffice to itself ; else had creation never been the myriad marvel that i-t is ! Great, oh man ! is the march of thy mind upon the waves oloutivard progress ! — won- drous ! thy penetration into the hidden depths of science ! but when ! oh ! when will the practical conviction of the Saviour's precepts pass, like the mighty shadow of His coming Divinity, over the militant Marathon of thy inner world, and smite, with- out a blow, the deadliest of all foes — thine own unregenerate heart ? Then^ and not till th«n, shall ye indeed ^' be as gods knowing good from evil.'' Nothing else has — nothing else can bring " peace on earth, good will towards men ; " for then shall each man be, what in " God's image " he was first created, bav- in o- within himself the type of all things in heaven and on earth. This world's naiTOw barriers of caste, country, sect, though they havef heretofore been of iron and of adamant, shall be fused into one harmonious whole in the New Jerusalem of each wide- opened soul ; and those petty ministers of paltry passions, now accredited by Self, thrust out to have their place re-peopled by the apostles of great Truths. All kindreds and all kinds will then be there ; those of all aptitudes, and all instincts, of all grades, and of all conditions, from the great Chief that once wore Israel's mighty crown, and the genius that swayed the wide realms of Babylon, to the poor herdsman of Tekoah, the fisherman of Galilee, the dark slave of Afric's burning soil, and the stiil more wretched slaves of an oblique and spurious civili- zation, all, all, will then have met in that blest Canaan, promised from the first, and come at last I of Christian sympathy and universal fellowship ! But poor Mr. Henry was not even a professed^ much less a 1*76 BEHIND THE SCENES. regenerated Christian. The great spiritual battle of Armaged- don had still to be fought out in his heart, against that fell au- tocrat, Intellectual Supremacy, and the false prophets of scepti- cism. Woe is me ! how many minds, from their wide arena, are measured for this decisive conflict in which it never takes place ! And yet there were moments when even, on the seared heart of this bold, bad man, patience and long-suffering, those attributes of Divine power, of which his victim was the delegate, smote the rock of his better nature, and the living waters of compassion and remorse for a moment gushed forth ; but, alas ! only for a moment; and such a moment was the present. Some- thing like a tear almost glistened in his eye, as again encircling her waist, he said — " My poor Florence, you really do want change from this monotonous solicitude." There was a jar in the word really, which grated harshly on the sufferer's ear; for it sounded as if it came only to prop the hollow pretext for his putting her still farther away ; and leaving her to buffet with life and death, alone, and unaided, as best she might. " No, Henry," said she, gazing earnestly into his eyes, with that lever of intense expression, which raises the densest weight of hidden purpose in another heart, to the open level of our own ; " it is a further change that I dread ; had you never changed, I could have borne it I " He turned away to avoid the scrutiny of her eyes ; but ostensibly to reach another pillow, which, placing at her back, he said, in a tone which for that consummate art which stereotypes nature, David Garrick, or Edmund Kean might have envied. " Never changed ! and is it my fault, if my own Florence has made me love her ten times better now than I did the first day I called her mine ? " Florence slightly shook her head, for she did not like to meet with uttered increduhty even this hollow semblance of BEHIND THE SCENES. lY7 affection ; and yet love's fanaticism having long subsided under coldness and neglect, she had not sufficient faith to evidence things so perfectly unseen as the proofs of her husband's in- creased attachment; their interview had now arrived at one of those embarrassing crises, which are wont to occur in all tete-d- tetes, between the injurer and the injured ; the husband was nervously anxious to terminate it, yet was awkwardly perplexed how to do so with a good grace ; while the wife was well con- tent to lull her heart with even the phantom that had been ■evoked of a long-buried love, and let it rest for a moment on the soft echo of those gentle words ; so that for a few seconds neither of them spoke. But Mrs. Bousefield — who in the establishment of Magnolia Lodge always enacted towards Florence the same part that ^' Shock," in the "Rape of the Lock," did towards Belinda : that is, whenever she thought her mistress " slept " or did anything •else too long — " Leapt up, an^ waked her, ivith her tongue ! " now entered with a bonnet in one hand, and a victorine and a cashmere shawl dung over her other arm ; while for the deport- ment necessar}^ to suit this mise en scene., she had again recourse to her reminiscences of Saddler's Wells : but this time it was in the " genteel comedy line," that she had determined upon ^''coming out strong." So putting on a set smile, and throwing all that bewitching impertinence into her eyes, which chamber- maids and souhrettes, are wont to hurl at their masters on the stage ; but which if resorted to off it, would cause them very soon to be shown the outside of the house, she said — " ffive brought you your things mum, for hit's the beauti- fullest moonlight night has hever was ; hand I was quite sure has Mr. Enery was come for to take you for a ride I " looking all tho while with defiance at Mr. Henry. " Xonsense, Barlow, you know I'm not able to go out." " Thus re-assured, Mr. Henry chimed in with " Perhaps, 8* 178 BEHIND THE SCENES. love, Mrs. Bousejield is right, and that a drive would do you good ; don't you think you could make an effort, and just come with me as far as Antwerp House ? " "Humph!" argued Mrs. Bousefield, silently, within the depths of her own capacious store-room of a mind ; " drat ! the man, hif that haint the second time has he've called me Mrs. Bousefield, since he've been here ; hand two Mrs. Bousefields hin one night, I know, haint no good for nobody ! " " No," said Florence ; " I could not get as far as the gate- much less into the carriage." " Wei], perhaps in a day or two," rejoined Mr. Henry, taking out his watch, one of Brequet's chef-d^oeuvres^ so small, and so flat, that it could have glided with ease into the narrowest possible interstices of the tightest Russian uniform. " By Jove ! " added he ; " it's a quarter past eight ; so I must say good bye, love — now, take care of yourself, and get better soon ; " and he kissed her pale lips, while Mrs. Bousefield virtuously puckered hers up, as if they had never been used to such doings, and by no means liked being an idle spectator of those sort of proceedings : however, she opened them to remark as she followed Mr. Henry to the hall door, to open it for him — " Has for Mrs. Enry a taking care hof herself, you'll hexcuse me sir, but I consider that quite out hof character, when she has a usban to take care hof er, leastways as should take care hof er. Do you think has poor dear Mr. Bousefield hever let me do a hindivedgel thing for myself? no, he halways did for me as every usban has is a husband, wishes to do for their wives." "A great many of them, at least, Mrs. Bousefield," rejoined Mr. Henry, with an attempt at a facetious laugh, which, how- ever, died away almost like a death-rattle in his throat, as the night wind seemed to return a mocking echo ; " but," added he, stopping for one moment at the gate, " you must try and get Mrs. Henry well, to go abroad, for I know it is the only thing that will do her any good." BEHIND THE SCENES. 179 Mrs. Bousefield's reply was lost in air, for the next instant Mr. Henry had sprung into the carriage, the servant had given to the coachman the word of command, "Antwerp House!" and the octagonal echoes of the high-stepping horses' hoofs resounded along the green lane, and through the depths of Florence's seared and withered heart. SECTION VI. " Charity covereth a multitude of sins." " A fair tongue oft doth varnish over a black heart, and it is after this fashion that some persons do set their light to shine before men." — Sermon of the Rev. T. Roadly, preached before tlie Lord Protector. There was a great Emigration meeting at " The Crown and Anchor," in the Strand, for the fLU'therance of Mrs. Chisholm's benevolent labours. Henry Ponsonby Ferrars, Esq., M. P. was in the chair, but in the ragged, run-to-seed-looking whiskers of the chairman, the partially washed out and slightly shrunken buff kersey niere waistcoat, the loosely hanging blue surtout, the carelessly tied black neckerchief, the blotting-paper-coloured trousers, unstrapped to the clean, but lack-lustre boots, the dark kid gloves, the one vulgar-looking mourning ring, modelled upon a small square tea-tray, wnth the words " sacred to friend- ship!''^ inscribed in gold rehef round its black ground and purchased for the occasion, that very morning at a shop in the Strand, a few doors off; and the heavy warming-pan of a silver hunting watch, that had replaced the elegant little brequet, the whole surmounted by a scrupulously brushed, but not over new beaver, strangers would have at once defined the itinerant philanthrophist, and a hard-working M. P., but his intimate as- sociates would scarcely have recognized the " exquisite " Fer- rars ! or the most far-gone young lady devcurei-s of his " delight- BEHIND THE SCENES. 18l fill novels ! " have suspected that this was their pet Hon. The fact was, that gentleman was now in his working clothes, and as a staunch Free-trader, and a sixty Howard-power philanthro- pist, he thought it necessary to dress up to these two roles, and assume an air half-Cobden, half-Cloutts. On this day, he was like " a man to double duty bound," for after the emigration meeting, he bad, at this same tavern, to preside at a Temperance meeting. So being, as we before stated, in his working dress, to work he accordingly went. After the cheers which had greeted his arrival had subsided, he proceeded to address the meeting in a forcible and eloquent manner, upon the blessings of emigration, beginning with a well-merited eulogium upon that real benefactress to her species, Mrs. Chisholm ; a pane- gyric which lost none of its truth, or of its justice, by coming from lips through which neither the one nor the other were ac- customed to issue. After setting forth " how absurd were the prejudices against emigration, nay more, how wicked, since — *A11 countries that the eye of heaven visits, Are to a wise man homes, and happy havens! ' it was evidently flying in the face of Providence, who as popu- lation increased from time to time, opened unsuspected portals of this great globe for their accommodation, he remarked that had mankind obstinately persisted in clinging to the one spot which had given them birth, — instead of the onward and all- conquering march of civilization, — what at the present time would be the stagnant and foetid state of the world, — physically as well as morally, at the advent of every new blessing — to the hu- man race, whether in science, ethics, or statistics, there was sure to be a crusade raised against it ; but thank heaven, like their religious prototypes against the Infidels, it was only to make Truth more resplendently triumphant in the end. Sir Thomas Browne even, speaking of the so-called new world, terms it 'That great antiquity, America, which lay buried for a thou- sand years, and a large part of the earth is still in the urn for 182 BEHIND THE SCENES. US.' True, but it will gradually be un-urned, for the heritage of future generations ; yet, even when the giant gates of this wide new world were unbarred and thrown invitingly open, men w^ere at first reluctant to leave their sterile, narrow Father-land, because home! that most cabalistic of all spells, was the name by which toil had been rendered dear, and penury made sacred to them ! — And yet, my fiiends, what is it that constitutes HOME ? that Holy of Holies ! — of every Englishman's social creed : certainly, not the bare earth ! — on which his cottage, or his castle stands : not even the fair view, teemino- with broad lands and ancestral trees ; or the still more cherished peasant's garden, bright with its roses and its pansies, those fresh fragrant memories of Labour's leisure hours, no ! no ! my friends, you all are aware and feel it better than I can tell it to you, that it is the peojpled heart which constitutes a home. The gentle, lov- ing, winning wife, weak it may be in her strength, but still strong in her weakness ; since that it is, which is at once man's impetus and his reward, the gradually expanding human blos- soms clinging to their parent stem. The common air made musical with childhood's guileless mirth. These my friends, it is, which in reality constitute a home and with which, the wide world itself is but one universal home." (Tremendous cheers !) — " But," resumed the chairman ; " there is also another argu- ment strongly in favour of emigration ; it is not only because that in these distant regions, and more genial climes, there is no Corn Law League, no Bread Bluebeards, to reap human har- vest, but that because man, all 'paragon of animals' though he be, has his appointed stages of germination and progression in common with the humblest grain ; — and the little acorn of one hemisphere is, according to the immutable laws of nature, des- tined to become the stately oak, — the Forest King of another. There is an anecdote strikingly illustrative of this proposition. A venerable seaman yet ahve, has remarked that when a very young midshipman leaning one day over the bulwarks of his ship at Portsmouth, he saw a small squadron pass. It was BEHIND THE SCENES. 188 that which carried on board the first batch of convicts sent to Botany Bay. His captain, who was walking the quarter-deck, approached, and touching* him on the shoukler said: 'Mark these vessels well, and remember them ; they are going to lay the foundation of a great empire. Forty years ago, perhaps thirty, the certainty of the fulfilment of this prophecy might have appeared problematical : but who can doubt now that it will be fulfilled to the letter,' and if an empire deserving the name of great, could thus be founded by felons, how much greater a one may we not hope to found with men free from all reproach, save that of poverty ? For my own part, I do not hesitate to assert that had my lot in life been cast in a difierent and what is conventionally called an humbler though on that account by no means a morally inferior sphere, I should instant- ly, even as a matter of ambitious speculation, have gone out myself and taken my family (had Providence blessed me with one) to Australia. It is true, that the numbers who voluntari- ly expatriate themselves are daily increasing ; but it is to be feared that it is only expediency which makes them yield to the declared will of Heaven, when it ought to be from the de- sire of usefulness ; not that even usefulness, though it be culti- vated into a passion (as it is with the amiable 23atroness of this great cause, Mrs. Chisholm), is to to be constituted the end of action, for mind, though it be highly estimated, is not to be un- duly exalted beyond its proper subordinate sphere. As virtue must be esteemed for itself rather than for the immunities at- tached to its exercise, therefore should every man in emigrating think more of the benefit he is conferring in his generation and upon future generations yet unborn, than of his own individual welfare, or else selfishness, that universal principle of evil, will be continually warring against all projected good ; and their re-commenced lives, if I may so express myself, will be passed in an endless struggle between the imperative duties of princi- ple and the equally imperious and more seductive appeals of passion ; this is no novel and still less no controvertible asser- 184 BEHIND THE SCENES. tion, for do not all the phenomena of the physical world result from a sustained counter agency ? In shaking hands, therefore, like a brother with each member of the great human family that is 'outward bound,' I would yet say to him with the earnestness of a Pilgrim Father — '"Let no man live for, or suffice to himself alone !'" The honorable gentleman then sat down, amid thunders of applause, a hurricane of cheers, and a perfect snow-storm of white handkerchiefs I As soon as the Emigration Meeting had migrated, and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had recruited his exhausted energies with a tumbler of sparkling moselle, the benches were dusted, and the room re-arranged (that is, everything was taken out of it) for the accommodation of the Temperance Meeting, the members of which now began to pour in like the element which they de- lighted to honor. Perhaps never had so many fat people, male and female, been congregated in the same place, at the same time; which showed that however they might eschew fluids, they did not evince equal strength of mind in resisting sohds. The chairman, who had puffed out his hair like a ship in full sail, for his Emigration Speech, now flattened it down as if it had been undergoing a course of hydropathy for a quarter of an hour, under the pump, in order to " suit the action to the word" for his present auditory. Nevertheless he commenced his ha- rangue with great spirit, till no doubt feeling the incongruity of anything like spirit at a Temperance Meeting, he gradually flowed on "In one weak washy flood away," which so calmed the nerves of one very fat lady, in a blue watered silk, and toast-and-water-coloured bonnet, that gradually falling to leeward upon a stout gentleman's shoulder, she slept as soundly as if she had been on a water-bed ; though, at the same time, as noisily as if she had been to a cattle-show, and had bought an infant pig, and was bringing him home in her BEHIND THE SCENES. 185 throat. Now, it so happened, that Tim having put up the cab- riolet, and finding himself a gentleman at large, for at least three good hours, had got hopelessly and unpardonably drunk ; which being nuts to low vulgar natures like his, he had gone into the gallery, with his pockets filled with hazel-nuts, which he began cracking, along with sundry jokes, at what he called the speecheefying ; and just as his master was soaring high in one of his happiest similies, something about James Watt, the origin of steam, and a tea-kettle, whereby he clearly demon- strated that the tea-kettle was the only legitimate medium by which human beings ought to get up their steam. Tim roared out, hurling an awakening nut-shell at the toast-and-water coloured bonnet — "Turn out them ere pigs — this here is a temperance meeting ; and nobody aint allowed to go the whole swine here." The sleeping beauty thus rudely awakened, the meeting suddenly broke up in great confusion, amid cries of " Turn him out ! " While the chairman perceiving who the culprit was, cried out with stentorian sternness, " Tim ! " " All right, guvnor ! " hiccupped that individual — " I'll keep ?i rubbing on em down, while you's a vatering on em ; only I spose, as that ere bald-faced mare yonder, vith the toas- a;i-vater blinkers, and young pigs, don't vant no bother litter." As soon as the crowd had dispersed, and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had given orders to have his groom taken care of by being put into the stable with his horse, he told the waiter to call a Hansom, and thinking he had sacrificed himself quite enough for one morning to patriotism and philanthropy, re- solved upon devoting the rest of the day to politics and philan- dering : so first returning home to change his dress, he after- wards called upon Benaraby, and " the happy pair ! " went together to Kensington Gardens, SECTION YII. " How long will this people provoke me ? "—Num. xiv. 11. " much I wis To the annoyance of King Amasis." There was a perfect emeute of carriages in Park Lane, for there was a great dinner at the Duchess of Diplomat's ; Mr. Benaraby was arranging his ambrosial ringlets in the hall, where another pei-sonage was also performing the same little prevenances, for an infant imperial, which he was evidently educating with the greatest care ; while a phalanx of footmen, and a detachment of servants out of livery, "stood at ease," on either side. Mr. Benaraby was the first to complete his capillary arrangements ; and then giving his mane a final toss, like a Hon (as he was), he raised his eye-glass to the hero of the tuft. " Hellow, old fellow ! " cried the latter, — " that is coming it rather too strong, to afiect not to know me /" " 'Pon- my soul, my dear Trevyhan," rejoined the other, leisurely continuing his scrutiny, " I really did not know you at first, with that little addition to your family; I actually took you for Younr/-Ckin (young chin), that tyrannous Emperor of China, who somewhere about 1722 or 1723, summarily put an end to religious disputations and innovations in the celestial empire, by banishing the newly-baptised Pagans, right and left : so that as your own enemy (which so many men are), you see BEHIND THE SCENES. ] 87 in your role of persecuted primitive Christian, you'd have had to send yourself to the right-about too ; with nothing but your disconsolate dandyism to fall back upon ; a larger allowance, however, than most exiles can boast of." " Come, come. Master Ben, two can play at that game ; there is a plentiful crop of oriental revolutions just now ; even the Caucasians are up in arms ! and want a leader, and of course they naturally look to yoic as the coming man ; egad ! tkere^s a glorious opening for you ! and after you had eventual- ly invaded and conquered England — as you a}so of coicrse would — think what a devilish snug berth you'd have of it, with a re- storation of close boroughs, Caucasian close boroughs, and Mosaic- Arab constituencies ! and a Dean and Chapter at Mem- phis ! But I say, my dear fellow, don't you mean to reply to that fiery-tailed pamphlet of Mr. Jasper Mount Athos's, called — " The Omnipresence of the Deity," in which he proves you to be Lucifer, Anti-Christ, and I believe Nebuchadnezzar, rolled into one." "No, no," said Benarab}^ shrugging his shoulders, and plunging both his hands into the remotest depths of his trousers pockets; for as the fixed purpose of his life was to fill them, he wisely endeavoured to inure them to habits of repletion. " No, it is not worth while ; for after all, he has not used me more scurvily than he has done the Deity, and if the Almighty don't choose to resent it, neither shall I ! " Having thus modestly placed himself in juxtaposition with Omnipotence, the pair, accompanied by a laugh from Trevylian, reached the first ante-room. " I suppose," said Benaraby, turning to the Groom of the Chambers, '' the duchess is not down yet ? " ■ "Yes, Sir, her grace is in the drawing-room." " Anybody else come ? " " Only Mr. and Lady Barbara Farrington, and Lord Ernest Clare, Sir." " Is it a large party ? " 188 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Covers are laid for two-and-twenty ; but Lord Redby dines here, Sir." This was a most satisfactory hearing to Mr. Benaraby : Lord Redby being the leader towards whom his political vane had last veered, and whose coming into office be was looking forward to, as the great stepping-stone of his own fortunes. The peer, up to a certain point, had responded sympathetically to his overtures ; for there is a duality in all statesmen, expediency being the boundary line which divides the honourable, high- minded, and nicely conscientious gentleman, from the unscru- pulous, wary, coute-qui-coute politician, who is too good a crafts- man to find fault with even the worst tools : yet, though Lord Redby duly appreciated Mr. Benaraby's talents, he was well aware that, as Burke said of Charles Townshend, Benaraby " conformed exactly to the temper of the House ; and he seemed to puide it, because he was always sure to follow it^ Lord Redby also knew, that like this gi devant Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Benaraby was hkewise " a candidate for con- tradictory honours; and his great aim was to make those agree in admiration of him, who never agreed in anything else." * "^ For his capacities were all of the ready, active, practical, bustling, hard-working order, amalgamated in the brazen mor- tar of unblushing impudence, which is in legislative warfare what solid squares are in physical battles. Lord Redby yet winced under the total want of principle of the man, for he fore- saw in it a two-edged sword, which could be quite as dexter- ously used AGAINST as FOR ; and though any quality not in it- self low, when pushed by indomitable courage and perseverance to an extreme, amounts almost to genius ; on the other hand even the most exalted genius is easily dragged into the mire of the most contemptible baseness, when it lacks the upholding lever of moral rectitude ; and Lord Redby's own intelligence was of 'too high an order, and his knowledge of the world far too extensive for him not to be aware, that all things in creation move in a circle, which is the reason why events, passions and BEHIND THE SCENES. 189 temptations, are constantly repeating themselves, — and also why consciences that are easily bought, are as easily sold, upon each fresh opportunity that presents itself for their rising in market value. This Lord Redby knew, and would almost have given his earldom not to have been so sure of, in the individual instance of his satellite, Mr. Isaccher Benaraby. However, it is one thing to feel the necessity of accelerating the steam of one's own political engine, against some rival parliamentary train ; and another, to despise and recoil from the dust, smoke, ashes, and dirty work, by which the high pressure is achieved ; and so felt Lord Redby, and therefore he patronised his willing slave of the lamp accordingly. Upon the glad tidings that the Peer was to form one of the party that day, en attendant his forming a much more im- portant and influential one in another house, Mr. Benaraby walked on with a firmer and more elastic step, till he came to the last preliminary room, where the Duchess's page drew aside the velvet portiere for him and his companion, as Saxby, the Groom of the Chambers, preceded and announced them. Upon a divan at one side of the fire-place, now filled by a mirror, which being only divided by the velvet-covered mantel- piece, appeared like one plate of glass continued from the ceil- ing downwards, sat, or rather flowed, the Duchess of Diplomat, surrounded by eider-down cushions, of all sizes, of which her am- ple, but at the same time undulating, and strange to say, not un- graceful dimensions seemed to form a part. The extreme languor of her manner might have occasioned a strange contrast with her I'obust contour, had it not harmonized with it after the fashion of a broad, deep-rolling river, whose surface is always smoother when its waters are too full to allow of their wavelets indulging in any buoyant little gambols. Some women, were they to live to turn the corner of a century, would continue to be coquettes, even when death was the only male creature left inclined to approach them : Her Grace of Diplomat was one of these, but it must be acknowledged that she possessed a 190 BEHIND THE SCENES. wondrous pair of eyes, which were the arsenal (as all eyes should be) of her soul's artillery ; their softness was actually overwhelming, and seemed like the combined influences of music and perfume, mingling with the air of a summer's night, to give quite as much as they took, by blending with one's very being, even while they stole away the senses ; their covert fires veiled, but not subdued, by the diamond tears that ever trembled in them, till they looked like two captured stars, floating in a love philtre ; nor did the gentle voice discredit the imploring eyes ; and decidedly if it be true that "Le style c'est rhonime," it is equally so that " La voix, c'est la femme." Stretching out her white and sparkling hand to Benaraby, she said in her most wooing tones, " Very kind of you to come, ^Ir. Benaraby. I was afraid you'd be detained at the House." " Of all regalities," rejoined that personage, " I bow most to beauty, therefore, your Grace's invitations are commands, and you may judge of my emjyressement to obey them, by my com- ing so soon, for I don't think it is eight yet. This poor, perse- cuted Christian," added he, laying his hand on Trevylian's shoulder, and as he did so glancing slyly at Lady Barbara Far- rington, the author of the Sobriquet, " of course keeps his ' cevennes ' hours." " And better, too, than keeping people waiting seven hours, is it not. Duchess ? " drawled out the amiable dandy. " Quite true, Cecil, but am I not to have the pleasure of seeing Lady Larpingham to-day ? " "Thank you, no, my mother is not feeling very well, and she went to Twickenham this morning. I hope the Duke is better to-day ? " " Always some original remark ! from that profound young man," shrugged Benaraby, upon hearing this query, as he at BEHIND THE SCENES. 191 one and the same time shook hands with Lady Barbara Far- rington, and Lord Ernest Clare, who both laughed, and the for- mer added — " Hush ! take care, the Duchess will hear you." Probably she had done so, from the shadow of an inward smile which played round her mouth ; but, just at this moment, the 2^ortiere was again raised, and Saxby, advancing, announced to the hostess, in that subdued, well-bred tone which could not agitate the nerves of a fly — "The Duchess of Liddesdale, your Grace, and Monsieur Charles de la Tour de Nesle." This lady, though now in her forty-seventh year, was a queen-like, dignified-looking woman, still handsome enough, like Diane de Poitiers (whose portraits she greatly resembled), to have inspired a grande passion. She was the mother of the Duke of Liddesdale, who had bought Glenfern. Monsieur Charles de la Tour de Nesle was the scion of a great French family, and an attache to the French embassy, and rejoiced in the nez retrousse^ the quick, divining eye, the vivid and elec- tric repartee, crowned with the never-failing mot pour rire of an illustrious uncle of his, who, for three parts of a century, had been a celebrity in the annals of diplomacy and depravity. The greetings between the Duchesses and he were of the most aflx^ctionate order. " Mechant ! " said the hostess, shaking her closed fan at Monsieur Charles de la Tour de Nesle ; " you never came to me on Friday, and I had really a musical phenomenon." " Que voulez vous, chere duchesse ? cette maudite paper- asse, c'est a en devenir fou ! Si je ne I'etais deja, et de la plus charmante des femmes," concluded he, lowering his voice, and accompanying the latter part of the speech with what the Ital- ians call a " gola lunga." "Flatteur!" murmured the duchess, with her soft voice, while her still softer eyes said " Merci, cher Charles." The remainder of the guests now began to arrive rapidly. 192 BEHIND THE SCENES. Among them were Mr. Lancaster, with a copious sprinkling from Downing Street, and the House of Commons bringing up the rear. Soon after, the 2^ortiere was again raised, and Arch- deacon and Miss Panmuir were announced. Edith was looking her very loveliest, so admirably did the rich simplicity of her dress harmonize with the luxurious repose of her beauty^ She wore a dress of creamy pearl white moire antique, the corsage drape, a la Sevigne, with tulle illusion ; a large knot of pearls and emeralds on each shoulder and at the bosom ; also, a fourth knot fastening the upper part of the back of her dress. Round her ivory throat was a single row of large orient pearls, clasped with a large emerald, encircled with brilHants, and on her fore- head, blending with, yet contrasting, the rippling gold of her plainly parted but magnificent hair, was a diadem wreath of lily of the valley, with here and there a small diamond dew- drop upon the broad green leaves that peeped out from beneath the little snowy trembling flowers. The Duchess of Diplomat look Edith's hand within both her own, and pressing it, said : " You must, ma toute belle, let me make you and a very dear friend of mine acquainted. My dear Duchess, allow me to pre- sent you my charming young friend. Miss Panmuir. Miss Panmuir, the Duchess of Liddesdale." The latter, rising and offering her hand kindly to Edith, said : (having the delicacy, however, not to mention Glenfern) "It seems to me. Miss Panmuir, that we oitght to know each other." " It is very kind of your Grace to afford me such a plea- sure," while, despite all her efforts to restrain them, tears for an instant filled her eyes, at the recollection of the poor old place, and the manner in which it had passed away from her and her family for ever. Her new acquaintance tried to make room for her on the divan beside her, but it was an impossible achievement, considering the overflow of the Duchess of Diplo- mat ; which Mr. Lancaster, who was seated at a little distance. 1 BEHIND THE SCENES. 193 perceiving, rose, and advanced bis chair for Editli, who bowed her thanks to him, while the Duchess of Liddesdale said, with a smile — " I shall not even thank you, Mr. Lancaster, seeing that your place is now so much more worthily filled ; and being quite convinced that you have sufficient gallantry to consider the privilege of standing by Miss Panmuir, more than a com- pensation for the loss of your chair." " One so favoured in every way as Miss Panmuir," bowed Mr. Lancaster, " can never require any one to stand by her ; but should such an improbable event occur, it would indeed be an enviable privilege, which I hope I should duly know how to appreciate, and to acquit myself of." " Thanks," said Edith, " but you are aware that the present and the future, are always rivals, in more senses than one ; there- fore, how do you know but you may be engaging, yet, to lead a forlorn hope." " The motto of all such, at least, is a good one," rejoined Mr. Lancaster, in a lower and more earnest tone than the occa- sion seemed to warrant ; "death or victory, and I shall take care not to discard it." At this juncture of the conversation, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was announced. " By Jove, you must look out. Master Ben, or Ferrars will beat you hollow, at your own eruptions," said Trevyhan, as the latter entered. " You, both of you, in your pyrotechnic style of dress, remind me strongly of Mr. Isaac Hawkins Brown, the hero whose volcanic silk, and lava buttons, threw the Queen of Naples into such convulsions of laughter, as to endanger' the Neapolitan succession, but egad ! I never saw Ferrars so exten- sively got up as he is to-night. What's in the wind now, I wonder ? " " Saxby ! " said the Duchess of Diplomat, while Mr. Pon- sonby Ferrars was gliding towards her, with a step, which for stateliness might have suited the Grand Monarque^ and a look 9 194 BEHIND THE SCENES. (as he perceived Mr. Lancaster leaning over Edith's chair) that for savageness might have embellished with a new ferocity the already by no means prepossessing physiognomy of the great mogul, as represented on the wrappers of Anglo-Saxon playing- cards, " Saxby ! T\\ wait a quarter of an hour for Lord Redby, and then tell Marinade he may send up dinner." " Happy Lord Redby," repeated he, " but a man who can keep such a lady waiting, does not deserve any quarter." " Happy Lord Redby I " said Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, bo wing- almost down to the ground, as he stood before the Duchess, with one of those peculiarly disagreeable set smiles wherein some persons contrive at once to shew all their teeth, and to convey the idea that the corners of their mouth have rusty hinges. " Have a care, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, for that sentence might do for every member of your sex, whenever they chance to fall into the hands of any of ours ; " laughed the Duchess. " A prop-OS, is it true that the Bouveries are separated ? and whose fault is it ? it always struck me that he was a horror ! but then to be sure, I detest men of ' the wet blanket genus.' " " I really know so little of them, that I can't say," replied Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, his cold ashy eyes fixed obliquely upon Edith all the while. " But Benaraby," added he, turning for a mo;iient to that individual, " you know them intimately, come and report the case to the Duchess." " Know who ? report what case ? there are so many cases about town, progressing tant soit bieu, tant soit mal, that if you want them reported you must get Cupid to institute a special court of amatory jurisdiction, my dear Ferrars," said he, as quit- ting Lady Barbara Farrington's side, he Avalked over to the hostess, and leant his arm upon the mantelpiece. ♦' I want to hear about Mr. and Mrs. Bouverie," said the Duchess ; " what is the cause of their separation ? Why on earth can't married people in reality live apart quietly and re- spectably without the esclandre of a public separation ? but as usual in such cases, some abuse her, and others say the fault i^ all his ; which is it ? " BEHIND THE SCENES. 195 " I warn you, my dear Duchess," said Lady Barbara Far- ringtou, " that Mr. Benaraby is a particular friend of Mrs. Bouvei'ie's." " No, no," rejoined Benaraby, with one of his favourite shrugs, his great mind disclaiming the imputed weakness of friendship even for one of the ^yeaker sex. " No, the cause of the rupture is a very natural one, for though extremes are said to meet, they are, in my opinion, much more prone to part : and the fact is, Bouverie is a heavy, a very heavy body ; and perhaps Mrs. Bouverie is what the profane vulgar might call a light body." " What Benaraby means," interposed Mr. Caesar Coaking- ton, who had his own peculiar reasons for not liking to hear Mrs. Bouverie's reputation despatched at one fell swoop of his friend's unscrupulous invective — " at least what I suppose he means is, that a heavy or opaque body, coming in contact with a luminous one, is apt, in tlie matrimonial hemisphere, as well as in its antipodes, the celestial one, to occasion a conjugal eclipse." " By Ixion ! " exclaimed Benaraby, levelling his glass at his legal friend, " that fellow is so accustomed to a cloud of wit- nesses, and to badgering them all, that we had better let judg- ment go by default." " In default of judgment I think you had," retorted Coak- ington. " I doubt," said Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, somewhat a proiws de botte, " if since the world began, such a thing as a really happy marriage was ever known." " There might have been, when the world and the institu- tion were both young," said a Mr. Fuddlefudge, a lean, damp, lookiiig, sharp-featured individual, in spectacles, who wrote moral essays, of a highly immoral tendency, for a weekly paper, " but the institution is now thoroughly worn out, and as to our social system, what the misletoe is to the oak — a most unsightly 196 BEHIND THE SCENES. " But you forgot to add," said Caesar Coakiugton, " still use- ful from the fact of a little ortliodox love-making being permit- ted under its auspices at Christmas." " Judging from Mr. Fuddlefudge's last essay in the Denoun- cer " said Mr. Farrington, a mild, gentlemanlike-looking man, who was himself an unexceptionable husband, " one has every reason to suppose, that he upholds and prefers unorthodox love- making under the rose.''^ " Hear ! hear ! " laughed Coakingrton. " Really," said Benaraby solemnly ; for he began to weary of having been a whole quarter of an hour in the room without having created a sensation, or excited universal attention. " I cannot stand by and hear that most holy and sacred of all things — marriage, vituperated ; for as our friend Archdeacon Panmuir here, I am sure will tell you, it is the onbj infallible means the clergy possess of really bringing sinners to repen- tance ! " " And yet, judging from myself," said Mr. Farrington, looking affectionately at his wife, — (the usual criterion, by the bye, from which our judgments are deduced) — " some sinners are so harden- ed, that even under that awful dispensation, they never repent." " The fact is," said Fuddlefudge, fiatically, " the vows which the ceremony of marriage exacts are contrary to nature, for who on earth can, with any degreee of truth, promise to love for ever ? — it is perfectly incompatible with the innate inconstancy of man." " My dear sir," cried Benaraby, " speak for yourself, but don't inculpate us all ; indulge in, descant on, argue upon, ana- lyse, and proclaim as many of your own escapades as you please. Not that to judge from your appearance — but then appearances are proverbially deceptive — one would imagine you to be afflicted with any of the vacillating voltijements^ and flutterings of a Ballet Cupid ; but be that as it may, respect, I beseech you, the fixed passions and irrevocable flirtations of others. I myself, for one, am a martyr to constancy, and look at that thirty years' BEHIND THE SCENES. 19*7 liaison of Lady Fan court and Lord Downington ! Germ any- had its Schiller to immortalize a thirty years' war ! cannot Eng- land, or at least St. James's, which is the nucleus of England, produce a genius equal to perpetuating this thirty years' flirta- tion ? " " Not, it is to be hoped, unless he could at the same time change Downington into the Wandering Jew ; for thirty years is a sufficent spell, in all conscience," said Trevylian. " The most remarkable part of that aflair," put in Caesar Coakington, " is that in the whole of those thirty years, they have never had a single tiff." " Cest clair ! '''' shrugged Monsieur Charles, de la Tour de Nesle ; '* for, au fond, they have always been perfectly indif- ferent to each other ! " " Then you think that mutual indifference is the only guar- antee for the duration of a grande passion?'''' asked Benaraby, with a look of intense inquiry, as if he was really anxiously seek- ing for information. " Pas de doute^l'' again shrugged the attache. " Ah ! I see," laughed Csesar Coakington ; " this is the ho- moeopathic improvement upon Mrs. Malaprop's stronger matri- monial dose, of beginning with a httle aversion." " The only rational aversion is to steer clear of it altogether," croaked Fuddlefudge. " Women are badly brought up, there is not sufficient Orientahsm in their training; they have an idea that they have a right to their husbands' aflfections,* forgetting that what a man may bear with, and even like in a young and pretty woman, becomes insupportable in the prosings of a mid- dle-aged lady." " You appear, in your code matrimonial, or rather anti-ma- trimonial," said Mr. Lancaster, " quite to forget to make any provision for the defence of the poor lady being bored by the prosings, or it may be the somethings worse, of a middle-aged * This and what follows is word for word the printed and publislied sentiments of a modern reviewer. 198 BEHIND THE SCENES. gentleman, or liis fancying that he has a right to her affections, and exclusive devotion ! " " Well hit ! Lancaster," cried Mr. Farrington ; while Fud- dlefudge merely opened wide his lack-lustre eyes, and cast a dense yellowish fungus sort of look of unaftected surprise at him over his spectacles. Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, who had not only reciprocated the reviewer's sentiments touching the brutalization of women, but who had written a sort of wdiipper-in confirmatory article to them at the time, now took especial care to eschew the subject ; and getting gradually nearer to Edith, upon whom his glaring looks of resentment, at Mr. Lancaster's proximity to her had not only been thrown away, but had caused her cheek to suffuse with a deep but transient blush of indignation, approached her with his most deferential manner, and said in his softest voice — " I don't know that I ought to allow myself the happiness of coming so near to Miss Panmuir, for I have lately been much by the couch of a poor young friend, who is dying of consump- tion, and some persons consider that fatal malady as infectious, though I cannot say that I do." But instead of recoiling from him, this rather (as he foresaw it would) drew Edith towards him ; and there was such an ex- pression of tenderness and genuine sympathy in her eyes, as she condoled with him upon the illness of his friend, that if he could have set it all down, or even half of it, to his own account, he might have almost brooked the presence of Mr. Lancaster ; who, albeit, perfectly unconscious of the bitter hatred he had inspired, said in the kindest manner — "There has been a new discovery for the cure of consump- tion : inhaling the fumes of a sugar manufactory is found to do wonders for the lungs ; and an American physician. Dr. Cart- wright, has turned his whole attention towards obtaining a con- centrated essence of it, which is said to be perfectly miraculous in all pulmonary complaints." " Oh, indeed ! " — with a stiff and constrained bow, and an BEHIND THE SCENES. 199 almost fiendish expression of face — was the only reply Mr. Pon- sonby Ferrars vouchsafed to this kind suggestion. Edith per- ceived it, and turned with undisguised disgust from him to Mr. Lancaster; complimenting the latter a little more, than but for Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' insulting manner she otherwise would have done, about his general and unostentatious infoi-mation upon all subjects. Had she compelled him to swallow the con- tents of a chalice filled with wormwood, the clever man could scarcely have found the potion more bitter, than this proceeding of hers; and so fearfully was his countenance changed by the storm of conflicting passions raging within him at that moment, that there was something almost appalling in his appearance. " Why, Ferrars ! what's the matter ? I don't know on earth what you look like ! " said Trevylian, coming up to him. The other, feeling the ridicule of anything approaching to a scene in such a place, made a great efibrt to rally, and replied with one of his usual measured and sardonic smiles — " Look like ! Why, I should think like Borak, the ass that conveyed Mahomet to the seventh heaven ! " Edith heard the words, and understood their meaning, and therefore studiously kept her face turned from him; calling Mr. Lancaster's attention to the beautiful little Bohemian censer lamps in each corner of the room, with their chains of growing flowers and draperies of the same flowing over them, as if flying from the ardent gaze of the bright light within. '• They are very pretty," said he, " one might, without be- ing a hyperborean, almost fancy oneself in the Temple of the Dorian sun-god, with all his altars laden with fresh floral offer- ings." Here Lord Redby was announced, and soon after him, " Din- ner." Whereupon Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars folded his arms and ground his teeth ; while Mr. Lancaster offered his arm to Edith, which she accepted, his rival having, like most persons in the sulks, punished no one but himself. SECTION VIII. " I have loved thee, with an everlasting love."— Jen xxx. S. " Sits up till midnight with his host, Talks politics, and gives the toast ; Xnows every prince in Europe's face, Flies like a squib from place to place. And travels not, but runs a race." X>ean Swiff a " MordantoJ" " Praetors, proconsuls to their provinces. Hasting or on return, in robes of state, Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power, Kegions and cohorts, turms of horse, and wings, Or embassies from regions far remote." Milton. Politicians are like lovers, only with the love left out — inas- much as that they jBnd out a way where others would not even perceive an opening ; and Lord Redby — who was evidently in high spirits — contrived, as he passed Benaraby on his way, to take the Duchess of Diplomat down to dinner, to say to him with no more expression in his face than if he had been making the obligato inquiries after that gentleman's health — " Mr. Benaraby, I shall be glad to speak with you to-night ; no matter how late ; if you will have the goodness to come to my house." Benaraby merely bowed his assent, as the peer passed on, though he felt much more inclined to bound with delight, for now he was convinced that the powerful idol of his life long BEHIND THE SCENES. 201 dream, unlike that of Xebuchadnezzar's, would no longer escape hira, but was about to have, and what was still better, io give him, " a local habitation, and a name ! " and this he wanted no second Daniel to discover for him. "There is a tide in the affairs of" <:/m?ier5 as there is in those of men : and this of the Duchess of Diplomat's happened to be a singularly successful one, for nearly everybody seemed to be happy in their own way. Mr. Benaraby detonated into a fine strain of hyperbolical orientalism about the luxuriance of the fruits and flowers on the table ; while Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, on the opposite side, sple- netically exploded upon the'barbarism of this Russian custom of exciting the olfactory nerves with such suave and entrancing odours, which he averred to be highly detnmental to the diges- tive organs during dinner. And so it is that all men go through the world, either with a smoked glass in their "mind's eye," which causes them to see an eclipse in the sun itself, like Mr. Ponsonby Ferrai-s; or with a golden-tinted Claude medium, like Mr. Benaraby, which turas even the murkiest twilight into sunshine, and thus makes them ever discover bright prospects " looming in the future ; " and, veril}^, this latter is the wisest folly of the two. " Pray," said Lady Barbara Farrington to that gentleman, whom she sat next — " have you seen Lady Mabel Maiden since Mr. Maiden's death ? Does she receive yet ? " "Yes ; I went there on Sunday. I was anxious, as a mat- ter of philosophical research, to see how she bore the loss of such a bore. She has a great mind, that woman, for she al- ways seems to act on the adversus major, par secundus system ; and therefore she did not appear indecorously buoyant, although she looked hugely handsome in her weeds ; but then, to be sure, some people take both marriage and the small-pox so favoura- bly, that neither leave the slightest traces of disfigurement, and when in the former epidemic the virus, alias the husband or the wife, (lies away quickly, the malady, fearful as it is, rather em- 202 BEHIND THE SCENES bellishes than otherwise ; but Lady Mabel, as she married for the golden eggs, has been, as Carlo Dials wonld say, particu- larly fortunate in cooJcing her goose so soon ; though two yeai-s of Maiden must have been the very quintessence — the perfect prussic acid of boredom ! — quite equivalent to a twenty or thirty years' dose of ordinary bore, in its usually diluted form." " I suppose," laughed Lady Barbara, " that her stepson. Mai- den Jils^ is not au desespoir at coming into possession of his father's coffers ? " " Now it so happened, that the present representative of the Maidens, from his great influence (which in England always means his great wealth), was to be duly wooed into the Redby phalanx ; consequently, Mr. Benaraby^s cue was to deal with him as tenderly, and to vnenager this young gentleman's Tom- Noddyism as gingerly as an elephant bows his trunk to exalt and dandle, with colossal friendliness, some poor little Lilliputian puppy-dog, whom the keeper has obtruded on his august at- tention for public and popular purposes, therefore he replied io this query : — " No, no, my dear Lady Barbara, T think he feels his father's death very much ; but then, you know, the Anglo-Saxon tarifiy conventionalism is everything in England, and Englishmen — aye, and for that matter. Englishwomen, too — are as much ashamed of being detected in any outward and visible signs of feeling as they would be at being caught in the act of petty lar- ceny, and invariably do as much to disown ' the soft impeach- ment ' as the virgin queen did to refute the Due D''Anjou's ac- cusation of her having the evil in her ankles, by dancing herself nearly to death at the Marquis of Northampton's wedding — all Sunday, though it was. So much for her Protestantism I when her vanity was hit on the raw." And here Mr. Benaraby launched oft' into a fine philosophi- cal inundation upon the ' manners and customs of the English," which showed him to be "Profound!}^ sl^illed in analj^tic." BEHIND THE SCENEg. 203 It being a favourite " short turn " of his to interlard his frivoli- ties with maximic gems of thought — doubtless upon the same principle that Alexander the Great, in his Indian campaign, caused costly suits of armour, of gigantic dimensions, to be buried in the sands, so that, upon being excavated by those who came after, he and his Macedonians might pass for men of gigan- tic stature. Lord Redby, who sat opposite to him, his eyes upon his plate, and his whole attention apparently devoted to a poulet d la ravigote^ kept his ears iixed upon his ministerial Mephisto- philes ; of whose deep, mellow, perfectly modulated voice he did not lose a single tone ; and of the electric fluid of whose countenance he, through the same medium, noted every varia- tion, as it alternated " From grave to gay, from lively to severe." And he thought as he did so, " If that fellow, with his 'puissance du regard, his wonderful high-pressure powers of declamation, and his sublimated hypermetric impudem^e ! can lure on into pro- selytism by his verbal Ignus fatui, that really clever woman, Lady Barbara Farrington, what a dance he will lead the masses ; and, still more, them asses in the House of Commons ; and so pleased was he with the thought that he held up his glass, and sinking the mister, in his determination to raise the 7nan, said across the table — " Benaraby, a glass of champagne with you." " ^t tu quoque Brute ! " said Trevylian, who sat within one of Lord Redby, for he was a Whig renfonce by descent, by indolence, and by inclination. •' Has your lordship, then, no mercy ; for poor Benaraby is already pledged to death by his constituents ? " " Mr. Benaraby," said the Duchess of Diplomat, trying to dart a look at him through the interstices of the plateau ; for whenever any political " Hamlet " was enacted at her house she always played the Ghost, and stood between the dramatis per- sonoe, at the exact and critical moment. ^04 BEHIND THE SCENESs " Mr. Benaraby, I have a crow to pluck with yon, for you promised to give me the original score of Prince Joseph Ponia- towski's opera of ' Malek Adhel,' and you never did so." " Injustice ! — thy name is woman ! " exclaimed Benaraby. " Can your grace command, and / not obey ? I left it some four days ago, with what Mr. Thomas Carlyle, that great Gram- pian Germanic growler, would call ' that fine specimen of opaque flunkeyism grown truculent, your porter.' " "That's a truculence that must be seen to and tamed," laughed the Duchess. " It was doubtless for that laudable purpose," rejoined Be- naraby, " that he kept the score ; for ' music,' we know, ' hath power to soothe the savage breast.' I thought from the tran- sient glimpse I caught of him on my arrival, that he looked subdued to-day ; in short, that there was lesss of the flunkey and more of the finatico about him ; but ere I depart to-night, I'll argue the point of his delinquency with him, syllogistically, Socratically, and Pythagorically, till I convince him that his conduct has been base in the extreme, and that though thor- ough-bass is the requisite foundation for a musician, it is the worst of all possible ingredients in porter — whether that porter be stout in a bottle, or double stout in a chair." While Mr. Benaraby was thus rigmaroling in his usual fine- flowing, grandiloquent, semi-hieroglyphical, semi-hyperbolical style, his friend Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was in the contrary ex- treme — in a state of physical stagnation, and most mortifying and unusual anti-showoffativeness. N"ot at all relishing the goods — or rather bads — with which the gods had provided him in the shape of an antiquated — nay, an almost fossilised specimen of the vestal genus, in the person of a Miss De la Zouche, a qi devant maid of honour to Queen Charlotte. She was in every respect a curious sample of a now extinct race. Some old ladies, themselves perfect oral traditions, who had known her in her palmy days— when Bath was Bath, and the spirit of Beau Nash seemed still to flirt every fan, and to BEHIND THE SCENES. 205 fan every flirt — declared she was a perfect enamel. If so, it was most assuredly one of Bones — for she was all bones — bones, too, which time had not bleached, but which looked red and raw ; and no wonder, for they were not veiled by the slightest segment of flesh, to protect them against all those insubordinate atmospheric changes in which our charming chmate abounds. Rattling over the ruts of her neck, and occasionally rolling into its deep ravines, were two rows of fine pear-shaped pearls, fast- ened with a large diamond solitaire^ surrounded by sapphires, and a sort of black velvet hatchment under it, for the better dis- play of its brilliancy, by the force of contrast. Her head shook with that tremulous motion which is so graceful in those wire- supported flowers — that Natier mounts, but not equally so in human caputs ; — and upon it rose high and majestically a sort of model of the Tower of Babel, in white and cherry-coloured gauze, supported by innumerable jewelled-headed corking pins. Indeed, with such a profusion of precious stones was she tesse- lated, that, — being guilty of the only crime for which English society has no toleration, namely, poverty — the ill-natured, who of course consisted of her particular friends, were wont to say of her (as Madame de Sevigne did of the two Manciui) that she had ^'^ force pierreries, et ires peu de linge ; " not so much in the latter instance in allusion to her nude drapery, as to her literal deficit of those garments which take precedence in every toilet. What considerably enhanced Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' un- comfortable JDosition next Miss De la Zouche was, that she did not seem to have the most purblind glimmering of his celebrity in a literary point of view. She knew, indeed, that he was an author, but she seemed totally to ignore that he was what is far from being synonymous also, a personnage ; on the contrary, having understood that he had appeared in print, and was about to do so again, she thought his literary system might want re- gulating, and therefore she continued during dinner to pound for him in the brazen mortar of her reminiscences, strong tonics 206 BEHIND THE SCENES. of Dr. Johnson, and to dilute emollients of Miss Biirney, with conserves of the same, as Madame D'Arblay ; till his lacerated vanity almost became rabid ; — ^and had he not bridled it with the strong muzzle of contempt, he would infallibly have ended by demolishing the Tower of Babel, or by tearing off the splendid pearls that mocked the skeleton throat beside him, and flinging them amidst the swinish multitude around. But the culminating billet of his martyrdom was seeing Edith oppo- site, radiant in beauty, with a halo of happiness suffusing her whole countenance, as she listened with the most profound at- tention to Mr. Lancaster's conversation ; who, independent of his great personal beauty, was gradually but rapidly beg-inning to interest her heart, far more than Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had ever interested her imagination. Even now the pyre was not sufficiently high, for Miss De la Zouche, with that singular pro- ficiency in the mal apropos, for which most old ladies are so celebrated, all in sending a large black grape out of some Ma- raschino jelly that she was eating, hopping like a spent cannon ball into the most vulnerable, alias the most visible part of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' shirt frills. She, to make the wound more mortal, observed — " What a very charming young man Mr. Lancaster is ! — » so clever, so accomplished, models so beautifully, sings so charm- ingly, and writes, I hear, exquisite poetry-— in short, he is quite the Duchess of Diplomat's pet lion this season ! " "Ah !" said her companion, with one of his sardonic grins, and showing all his long and very carnivorous teeth, as he glared across the table in fixed audacity at Mr. Lancaster ; " and near- ly the same name, too, as Caracalla's pet beast ; for his was called Acinax ; and judging from appearances, I should say the Duchess's favourite ought to be called Asinine ! '' The hostess, who, as w^ell as all who were at that immediate end of the table, overheard this gross and unprovoked ly inso- lent speech, trembling lest the object of it should do so likewise, said to him across the table, as she caught a fragment of what he was saying to Edith, — BEHIND THE SCENES. 207 " What ! defending Nero and Caligula, Mr. Lancaster ? I know you to be charity itself in all your judgments ; but I must say, bestowing it upon two such monsters is literary charity thrown away." " I was not exactly defending them, Duchess," smiled Mr. Lan- caster; " I was merely maintaining that no man was uniformly and unexceptionably bad ; that even the worst had some one redeeming point, as in all natures, including the most abased, the saving grace of love was to be found; and I instanced Caligula's devotion to Ccesonia, and Nero's infatuation about Poppsea." " Nero ! " cried Benaraby, in a kind of ecstatic enthusiasm — = throwing himself back in his chair, and folding his arms, as was his wont when he clung to the tail of another person's argu- ment, and determined to ride home upon it without drawing bridle — "Nero! the greatest benefactor to mankind that has ever yet dawned upon the world ! " Here there was a univer- sal pause of astonishment ; which was precisely the point for which Mr. Benaraby always steered ; while, for a moment. Lord Redby looked at him with an uncomfortable dubious expression, as much as to say — " Surely he'll never, even under the influence of claret and conceit, be such an ass as to deal out in this house — the strong- hold of whiggism I — any of his double-distilled conservative theories about the salutary effects of autocratic despotism." But soon the peer's mind was relieved, by his satellite add- ing, for the edification of his breathless auditory, as he threw his eyes up to the ceiling with a look of proud defiance, as if challenging Jove himself — " The very greatest I Talk of Howard the philanthropist — a mere opaque, well-meaning old gentleman, who, though he did not actually go the length of 'Taking the jyrisoned soul, and lapping it in elysium,' yet from visiting afflicted souls in prison, did in some sort coo- sole the poor wretches in hot water : yet, what was that com- 208 BEHIND THE SCENES. pared with Nero's boon to the world ; for, according to Pliny, he w^as the first who invented the glorious art of iceing water. Here's to him," added he, pouring out a goblet of that cold sparkling fluid, " and may he in return for all his deeds on earth, never get a drop too much wdiere he now is." " Bravo ! old fellow," cried Trevylian, amid the universal laughter with which this very unusual toast was received. The earnest, yet studiously piano manner in which he had drunk the monster memory of the defunct tyrant gave to the burlesque a double impetus ; and as soon as the laugh it had caused had subsided, Mr. Benaraby leant forward and said, in hopes of being questioned about the Egyptian Magi, and the Seers of Cairo, in w^hich he was well up — " Were you the witch, Miss Panrauir, or was Mr. Lancaster the wizard, who evoked the shade of that great man, Nero ; or were you merely his Tyro and accomplice in the business ? " " Not even that, Mr. Benaraby," laughed Edith, " for you are the real culprit, being the only person who ever attempted to raise Nero, by citing him as the author of a single benefit to the world." "Ah ! " said Benaraby, caressing his chin, " faggots are nil^ and horseponds afar off, which makes you courageous, Miss Panmuir, and like all witcTies — Lancashire or other — you try to lay the blame of your sorceries upon your innocent victims, of which great legion I stand foremost," concluded he, with a low bow. " Well, but," laughed the hostess, " as you are so deeply versed in all the necromantic spells of the East, Mr. Benaraby, you ought, in summing up your accusation against Miss Pan- muir, proclaim what philtres and charms she has used in the incantation." "I am for the French plan of des circonstances attenuates^ for all crimes, especially for the most heinous ; for the worse they are, the more extenuation they require, therefore I with- draw the count of philtres," rephed Benaraby, " but the fatal BEHIND THE SCENES. 209 effects of the charms of the accused, not one of the witnesses here present, I am sure, will attempt to deny." " There ! ma belle enfant,''^ said the Duchess of Diplomat to Edith, with a laugh, as she rose from the table, " decidedly 'The force of compliment can no farther go,' SO we had better go instead." As Lord Redby opened the door for the egress of the two Duchesses and the rest of the ladies, a slight frown knit the brows of Monsieur Charles de la Tour-de-Nesle, who had been trying surreptitiously to take a sketch of Edith on the back of his menu du diner ; ^'•fai attrap2:)e le traits, mats non le regard,^^ said he pettishly, as Trevyhan, who sat next him, glanced ob- Hquely at his croquis. " My dear fellow," said the latter, sotto voce, " allow me to tell you in plain English that you are not likely to obtain the regard of any woman, as long as you steal their effigy at a dinner-table, and display its pro bono afterwards, or even to catch their exj^ression, beyond that of contempt." " Vous croyez .^" replied the Attache, looking at him over his shoulder, as if the French elegant was measuring fatuity with the English dandy, as a necessary preliminary to entering into any farther encounter. But the ladies having left them to an Englishman's only paradise — namely, the society of other men, politics, and plenty of wine, we will not intrude upon the mysteries of their barbaric Elysium, but follow the inferior animals up-stairs. The Duchess of Liddesdale asked Edith if she would kindly consider that she had called upon her, which she would take the earliest opportunity of doing ; and waiving ceremony come and dine with her the next day en petit comite ? " adding " I shall be most happy to see Mrs. Dunbar, and the Archdeacon too, if they will not be shocked at my unceremonious proceed- ings ; but the fact is, I have been so much out of England, my dear Miss Panmuir, in countries where people have only two 210 BEHIND THE SCENES. vei-y p)'imitive aims in living, those of pleasing their friends and pleasing themselves, that I cannot get into our guinde steel and whalebone conventionalities, the grand principle of which ap- pears to me to be the constant ejffort to avoid anything hke the escape of one natural feeling, or emotion, till we end by having none to suppress ; and making a North Pole of our sympathies ; through whose icy blocks no passage can be discovered." Edith accepted this invitation as cordially and frankly as it was given. She was not sure about Mrs. Dunbar, as she seldom went out ; but she knew she was not exceeding a little of the truth, in vouching for the alacrity with which the Archdeacon would also avail himself of it. The rooms now began to fill rapidly with the Duchess of Diplomat's evening guests, composed of the corps diiAomatique et de la creme de la creme of all nations ; and panache^ (as Mon- sieur de la Tour de Nesle was wont to express it), ^'■D'' artistes distingue.^'' Amongst the earliest arrivals, was a little woman, with very denuded bones, conventionally called a neck and shoulders, and a perfect Cretan labyrinth of hay-colored ringlets ; for she could not lay claim to being that peculiar phase of beauty (and also one of its loveliest) which the Italians call a Biondina. She was a Mrs. Piers Moucton, the wife of the second son of Sir Piers Moncton — that eccentric self-expatriated Sir Piers Monc- ton — Edith's distant relation, who, upon coming into possession of Glenfern, had so summarily disposed of it. This lady, who cleverly managed to combine the seemingly two incompatible extremes of being at the same time over-dressed and not dressed at all, now made her way to the hostess, whose toady- in-chief she was. " My dear Dutchessth, it is useless to waste words in asking you how you are, you look tho charmingly," lisped she. " And you so alarmingly, my dear Matty ; you seem to have gone mad upon Boileau's assertion : ' Que rieu n'est beau que levrai, et certes, tout ce qui est vrai, n'est pas necessairement BEHIND THE SCENES. 211 beau, comme vous nous faites voir ;' and lialf-a-crown's worth of gauze, aurait niieux fait votre affaire. But have you got a governess yet ? " " Oh yeth, thuch a thuperior perthon, a Fraulein Gothekant, who hath been throngly recommended to me by Mithter Pon- thonby Ferrai-s ; tho that I think mythelf very fortunate ; for you know in all hith bookth he sayth tho much about female education, and raithing the moral standard of it for women, tho ath to elevate their characterth." "x\nd, in order to raise it, he logically thinks it must first be lowered, I suppose," said the Duchess of Liddesdale. " I confess I should pause, were I you, my dear Mrs. Tsloncton, be- fore I confided so sacred a trust as the educati-m of my chil- dren to a governess of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' recommenda- tion." " You amathe me ! my dear Ducheth ; for Mr. Ponthonby Ferrars ith tho clever, that I assure you I feel quite proud and elated at hith condethending to interetht himthelf about my nurthery arrangementh." "Well, it's to be hoped that that pride won't have a fall," sotto voced the Duchess of Liddesdale ; but this soliloquy was not uttered in so low a voice as to prevent Edith hearing every word of it; which made a painful, though perhaps a salutary impression upon her, as confirmatory of Alciphron Murray's opinion of the subject of it. "Ecco!" exclaimed the hostess to Mrs. Moncton, "that moving mountain Soto Mayor," as she looked towards a cor- pulent Spanish Conde, who was rolling on towards them, like the tide of events, through every obstacle ; sending glances from his large languishing black eyes in all directions ; for, in his eyes, all the sentiment denied to the rest of his physique had taken refuge. "On dit, Matty," continued her Grace, " that our fat friend is au dernier raieux with you ; if so, it only shows what a fa- tality there must be in these sort of things." 212 BEHIND THE SCENES. ^'■Gare les mauvaises langues, my dear Dutcheth,''^ minauded the little woman, shaking her hay-coloured ringlets. " I can- not help hith thending me flowerth every morning ; but I al- wayth tell Eugenie to put hith notes in the fire, and hith flow- ers in water." " So that you are determined to make the poor man go through fire and water for you ! vous nctes j^cis degoutee ! " laughed the Duchess. The huge Hidalgo had at length succeeded in mooring himself alongside the hostess, and bowing profoundly to her, kept up a fire of glances the while at Mrs. Moncton, who re- turned them over her magnificent bouquet — the Conde's last ofiering — which she kept before her mouth, in the most co- quettish and conspicuous manner. As this is a world whose human mosaic is composed of strong — either ludicrous or pain- ful — contrasts, so the Conde de Soto Mayor was followed by what never could have passed for even his shadow ; so pain- fully and spirally elongated was it. This locomotive attenua- tion was " commonly called," as the letters-patent have it, Lord Menelaus Plagiary. His wife, without being a Helen, had ran away from him ; so that from the Heaven of Love, he had fallen into the Slough of Despond of Literature ; but being, politically speaking, a staunch Peelite, he carried into the repub- hc of letters, the mercantile mesmerism of buying in the cheapest market and selling in the dearest ; which he con- trived to do, by subscribing to Hookham's, who supplied him "with "all the new and popular works," as the catalogue pro- mises and vows to do. And so smoothing the wings of his " blighted and darkened spirit," as " gents " behind counters phrase it ; whose highly developed organizations are equally imbued with Byron and Birmingham ; he then and there, amid that box of books, the scissors for his Mentor, and the paste- brush for his Ulysses, snatched, amid this printed isle of Calyp- so, now a thought here, then a page there, and then again somewhat dishonourably noted down whole conversations ; all BEHIND THE SCENES. 213 of which he shook together, blended with a shght, and very thinly diluted quantum of original nonsense of his own ; which he then spread, plain and unvarnished, over three volumes of blank paper, w^hich he forthwith sold to a fashionable pub- lisher as " Lord Menelaus Plagiary's " new novel ; and from whom he got a good price for this Sautee de Cervelles : these gentry, like Pope's " gentle belle," never being able to " resist a lord ! " To avoid having to compliment Lord Menelaus upon his tesselated " Tale," all the choice specimens of which she had al- ready seen in their original quarries, the hostess telegraphed to a Prima Donna, who, like "Linked sweetness long drawn out," was passing on, arm-in-arm, with the Baritone, to have a little entre acte flirtation in the conservatory previous to her grande scena for the evening. However, as in our sensible age all sorts of love generally gives place to any sort of lucre, the Diva, at the Duchess's com- mand, changed her course, and proceeded to the pianoforte, w'here, having deposited her gloves and bouquet, and made sundry little superfluous arrangements about her Berihe, during the few seconds that the Maestro who w^as to accompany her burst over the instrument in a preliminary storm of harmonious discords, — she then gave some gems from "Beatrice di Tenda," and the "Favorita," which eftectually summoned the choice spirits from " the vasty deep " of the dining-room. Mr. Lan- caster and Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars entered almost simultaneously though by diflerent doors ; and the Duchess of Liddesdale hav- ing made a signal to the former, Avith her fon, in order to ask him to dine with her on the morrow, he found himself, to his no small satisfaction, again by Edith's side. Upon perceiving this, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was almost rabid with rage and dis- appointment, as he stood contemplating them, his elbow lean- ing on the mantelpiece, to the imminent peril of a costly and 214 BEHIND THE SCENES. colossal Capo de Monte vase ; while Sallust himself would have failed in describing the horrible charnel expression of his fmdi oculi, — of which " flabbj'-looking eye" would perhaps be a nearer translation, even than "unhealthy looking," as serpent- like it seemed to be sliming over its victim previous to destroy- ing it. How different was the buoyant, earth-spurning step ! the fine Promethean dare-the-gods, scale-heaven air, with which Mr. Benaraby seemed to draw the stubborn bolt of the world's power vigorously towards him, and then shoot his own spirit swiftly on before the somewhat grotesque body that was but its framework. As he entered those briUiant and now densely-crovfded rooms, flinging his snowy handkerchief in one direction, his raven locks in another, and his scintillating glances, — those Ethiopian ambassadors in all — " Oh ! Mr. Benaraby," said the hostess, " you are the very person that I wanted ; for I know no leveller and accomplisher of impossibilities but you, — and I have a nice Httle insurmount- able one, that I want you to get over for me." After the preliminary of a profound bow for this hyperboli- cal compliment, the personage thus addressed, plunging his hands into his trouser pockets, and elevating his shoulders into what is commonly called a shrug, said with his usual modesty — " Well, perhaps I do possess the same little talent which a contemporary writer tersely and truly atti'ibutes to Napoleon the First — that of creating conditions which are inexhaustible, — which every Pioneer of what ordinary men call 'impossibili- ties ' does." "Then, by Jove!" said Lord Ernest Clare aside to Mr. Far- rington, " he must have created his own impudence ! for I know of no condition more inexhaustible." "But what is the little bramble that dares to obstruct your path, belle duchesse?" added Benaraby. " Is it possible that the dull earth can evince less gratitude towards you than to'rds lo ? — and send forth anything less soft and less fragrant than violels, ill relurn for the pressure of those lovely feet? But if BEHIND THE SCENES. 215 SO, you have only to coinmand the axe of my indomitable will, to clear away the obstacle, be it what it may !" " Quant a cela ! " laughed the Duchess, " it does not amount to anything quite so formidable as a wrestle with the Fates ! — still, the achievement I require at your hands is difficult enough in all conscience ; nothing less than to erect a superstructure without a foundation." " Nothing easier, you mean ; for do not most of us, despite the disillusioning (to coin a word) inroads of utilitarianism, pass our lives in the study of that peculiar kind of aerial architecture, called castle-building ? " said Benaraby. " Yes, for ourselves, but not for our neighbours ; and as for those horrid utilitarians, had they the power of remodelling the creation, which, thank heaven, they have not, I verily beheve they would erase the stars from the skies and the flowers from the earth, merely because their utility is filtered through the beautiful." "Take care. Duchess; speak more respectfully of those scav- engers of political economy — the utilitarians ; or you will have to run a tilt with your protege, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, who is one of their chief commissioners," said Lord Ernest Clare. "Ah ! " rejoined the lady, languidly, " he is a great logician is he not? All syllogisms, and sequences, and that sort of thing?" " Being a mass of contradictions," said Mr. Farrington, '■'■ per- haps he may even be a good logician ; otherwise I should doubt the fact, as I don't see how a man, always moving in what lo- gicians call a vicious circle, as he most unquestionabh' does, can ever be logical ! " It might be that Mr. Benaraby thought there was some- thing decidedly personal in this allusion of Mr. Farrington's to \n& friend (/) Ponsonby Ferrars' vicious circle; so, throwing back his mane with considerable hauteur, and sprinkling, as it were, the last speaker with a contemptuous look, hurled in the flash of a side-glance from his meteoric eyes, he said to the Duchess iploiii;it, in his blandest tone— 216 BEHIND THE SCENES. " How long, Duchess, is tlie lance of your true knight to re- main in rest ? I am only waiting for your colours to rush to the onslaught." " Ah ! true ; I had nearly forgotten. I want you to say something civil de ma joo.'rt to Lord Menelaus Plagiary about his book, which I really have not the face to say to him myself." " Ob, is that all ? " said Benaraby. " Well, I shall be charmed to do your spiriting, my dear Duchess ; for I rather think I am an admirer of Lord Menelaus' productions." " What ! you actually cany your mania for eccentricity and originality as far as that ? " said Lord Ernest Clare, laughing. " Rather say, my affable imitation," rejoined Benaraby, with a sort of burlesque regality of look, as if from the height of his grandeur he had been conferring knighthood upon a city sad- dler ; " for on this occasion, I condescend to follow the example of Voltaire, who was wont to say that he could pardon and over- look any faults of style in an author, so long as he set you think- ing. Now, Lord Menelaus has this effect upon me, more than any writer of modern times, for I never open and shut — which are simultaneous movements — one of his books, without its setting me thinking what an egregious ass he is ! " Scarcely had the laugh subsided, which followed this speech, made more ludicrous by the imjoerturbable gravity with w^hich it had been delivered, than seeing the subject of it making his way towards the hostess, she hastily beckoned to Mr. Lan- caster, and requested him to sing something. " Do,^^ added she, " sing ' Suava Imagine,' — you sing that so exquisitely ; or that serenade of Schubert's ? " " You must excuse me, my dear Duchess," said he, with a smile, " I never venture upon anything beyond English before foreign arthtes ; because they then charitably attribute all my deficiencies to the barbarity of our language, and the inharmo- nious construction of our souls ; for, as the Italian proverb truly says, — ' You must sing with the soul before you can sing with tlie voice.' " BEHIND THE SCENES. 2l7 "Would that our amateur young lady singers, whose shrill, unmodulated screams resemble those of the peacock, far more than the notes of the nightingale, could have that truth thoroughly impressed upon them, before they — set on by their remoi-setess mammas — so unmercifully split one's ears," groaned the Duchess. " But you^ my dear Lancaster, always do sing with your soul : and as your soul is a great linguist, you need not be afraid to give utterance to its feelings, either in German, Ttahan, Spanish, French, Russian, or Romaic." " I may not, it is true, incur so much danger from any of those tongues as from such flattery from the Duchess of Diplo- mat's !" bowed Mr. Lancaster, as he moved on to the piano. " If there is one thing more disgusting and degrading than another," said Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, with the most exaggerated sarcasm, as he glided into Mr. Lancaster's now vacant place by Edith's side, " it is to see a man who calls himself a gentleman, converting himself into a fiddler ; and playing the mountebank for the amusement of a set of people who can afford to pay pro- fessional mountebanks." " It is evident from that," retorted Edith, vrith equal, but for more polished and quiet sarcasm, — for she was beginning to be both indignant and revolted at his gratuitous insults to Mr. Lancaster — " it is evident from that, that Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars is not endowed with the divine gift of music ! " " No, thank Heaven !" said he, vehemently. " There are other things, for the absence of which one might have more reason to be grateful to Heaven — unprovoked malice for one," rejoined Edith. Her companion bit his nether lip sharply, with a gasp, and a crimson flush for half a second lit up his ghastly cheek, like a lurid red light in the vvild waste of a desolate country, glaring athwart a murky night, so as to render its darkness more terri- ble ; and was about to reply, when the low, mellow chords of the symphony that Mr. Lancaster was now playing, arrested Edith's attention, and, putting up her finger, she said, "Hush !" 10 218 BEHIND THE SCENES. and the next moment, with one of those rich, full, exquisitely modulated voices, in whose every tone seems to kneel an im- passioned persuasion, he sang the following song : — long. I have woo'd thee as a thought, I have loved thee as a dream, Till all else became as naught — Mere faint shadows on life's stream. I have lived upon a look ! — A tone I a touch ! a flower ! Bnt from each and all I took Spells of wondrous power I For I've been with thee ever, ■ Tho' but as the angels are ; "Who wake and watch, yet never Leave their lone, pure sphere afar. For not even unto thine May my soul its secret tell, Till thy spirit mirrors mine, Like to stars within a well. Where, hidden from all eyes, Save those which thi^se depths have sought, They stereotype the skies With bright rays from heaven caught I " Beautiful ! Charming ! Bravissimo ! " were echoed on all sides, as the last notes did not seem so much to die away upon the air, as to blend with it into one enduring harmony : and none were so loud in their lavish and generous applause of Mr. Lancaster's exquisite voice, as those whose own genius enabled them best to appreciate it. Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' tribute, if not equally complimentary, was, at all events, more original, for he merely muttered between his set teeth, — "D n the fellow!" Edith said notbing ; but every word and every tone had BEHIND THE SCENES. ' 219 sunk into her heart, and seemed to have opened a new and hitherto undreamt of vista of existence to her. The complex foreshadowings of her imagination, which Mr. Ponsonby Fer- rars's highly-wrought, but cold and hollow intellectualities had for the last two years awakened and evoked, appeared now to be suddenly vi\ified by some mystic and divine light into real- izing and completing themselves in her heart,— ^as we may sup- pose our disembodied spirits, once freed from their earthly struggle and corporeal trammels, will, in the efi'ulgence of Hea- ven, at once achieve the perfectionized and climacteric unity and completeness of their creation, which, however they may have caught occasional glimpses of, they have in vain toiled after on earth. The nearest approach we have below to this universality and completeness of existence, is when, for the first time, intu- ition floods our heart with that marvellous light by -which it reveals to us the great knowledge that another heart has been kindled at our own, and that we are Loved ! For, verily, the two hemispheres of such twin souls form one bright, unclouded firmament, which fully exemplifies the beautiful description of the Psalmist ; for between such, though, — "There is neither speech nor language," yet "their voices are heard among them." Unheard and unsuspected by all others, eloquent had been the voiceless words of that mute language which had passed between Edith Panmuir and Harold Lancaster that night. Therefore, decidedly, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars's lucky star — whe- ther Lucifer or any other — had forsaken him, when he chose so inauspicious a moment to request that she would allow him to call upon her as early as one the next morning. A disagree- able sensation came over her ; she hesitated, and tremulously repeated the word — " To-morrow ? " "Even so; there is a ^ to-morrow^ to all things in this world, not excepting a woman's caprice ! '' rejoined her com- panion, in a more than usually dry and compressed manner. 220 - BEHIND THE SCENES. " As I seldom indulge in caprices," said Edith, with a slight, very slight tone and look of resentment, " I am not sure that I have to-morrow at my disposal." " Miss Panmuir," resumed Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, suddenly changing the expression of his countenance and his whole bear- ing to one of the greatest self-abnegation, accompanied by a look of intense and unutterable despair, " there are twelve long miserable hours in the day ; have you not sufficient humanity to devote half of any one of those hours to save a fellow-creature from the rack ? " There was no mistaking the purport of these" w^ords. Edith both blushed and trembled, as she stammered out — "To-morrow, then, at one, I shall be at home." Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars did not, in reply to this acquiescence on her part, utter one word ; he merely made her a profound bow over his hat, which he seemed to hold tightly between both his hands, more, apparently, as a support to himself than to it; after which obeisance, he walked leisurely to one of the doors, and quitted the room. Mr. Lancaster looked over wistfully at the place he had vacated, without, however, making any at- tempt to take it. He now Jcneio that Edith understood him ; he felt that a spiritual and sacred compact had passed between them, and he dreaded lest the coarse and common-place medi- um of words (till he might launch them on the full tide of a love as deep as it was pure) should mar a single grace of that sublime epopee of passion, towards whose creation they had never contributed. But Edith was not left long to the mingled pleasure and pain of her own thoughts ; for the Archdeacon, who had re- ceived the Duchess of Liddesdale's invitation from her own lips, coupled with a warm eulogium upon Edith, now^ came fus«ing up to the latter, in high good-humour, as he began to think she was not such a fool after all, and had played her cards very skilfully; for there is this remarkable peculiarity about ma- noeuvrers, which is, that they never can imagine the possibility BEHIND THE SCENES. 221 of any event of a favourable nature coming about simply through the intervention of Providence, or even through that of Providence's left hand — chance ! Everything that occurs they invariably attribute to the tactics or preconcerted plans of the individual to whom it happens ; consequently, Archdeacon Panmuir gave Edith credit for an astute and recondite scheme to get into the Duchess of Liddesdale's good graces, of which she was perfectly incapable, both by capacity, inclination, and principle. " Humph ! ahem ! A certain young lady is looking very well to-night ! — ijcry well indeed," said Samuel Panmuir, be- stowing a sort of copyright migratory scrutiny from head to foot upon his fair cousin, as he accosted her. "I don't /ee^ very well, though; Fve a dreadful headache; the rooms are so very hot. Would you have any objection to go, for I think it must be late ? " "ISTot a bad move ! " said the Archdeacon, offering her his arm ; " decidedly, we are improving. A beauty, whenever she becomes 'th'e cynosure of wondering eyes,' as, I must say, you are to-night, Edith, should always disappear at a critical mo- ment, that her absence may be regretted and her beauty dis- cussed." " And her tout ensemhle dissected," added Edith, with a weary smile. " N'ow, it is very evident," continued the Archdeacon, pm-- suing his own train of thought as steadily as if it had never been interrupted — " plain to be seen as the dome of St. Paul's — that we have quite made the conquest of the mother, which may be considered as the mezzo termine to that of the son. So mind, my gentle coz," continued he, as they descended the stairs, in that inflated " national drama " tone which he always assumed when he meant to be particularly gallant and insinuating — " mind, I say, that when this will-o'-the-wisp of a duke does make his appearance, you lose no time in catching himP " And how are dukes caught ? " asked Edith, resuming a 222 BEHIND THE SCENES. fausse agnes look of the uttermost simplicity, not to say stupid- ity, which she planted in the very centre of the reverend gen- tleman's genuinely inane orbs. " Are they caught by salt be- ing strewed upon their heads, as nursery oracles enjoin should be sprinkled on birds' tails for their capture ; or by throwing dust in their eyes, as people catch the ophthalmia in Egypt ? " Samuel Panmuir had a vague notion, not indeed that his cousin w^as laughing at him — silk and lawn forbade such a sac- rilegious idea ! — but that she was indulging in a jest 6f some kind. Therefore, he replied — " Ah ! w^ell, the mother is so stately and penseroso^ that doubtless the son, in that spirit of contradiction which possesses all elder, and more especially all only sons, prefers the allegro. At all events, it is certain, that how^ever well honey may catch flies, vinegar never can do so. Therefore, I advise you by all means to cultivate your merry mood ; as you know the pro- verb, — ' Those may laugh that win.'" "And in case of one's not wanning, it is wise to secure one's laughi beforehand," said Edith, as they entered the cloak-room, where Mademoiselle ISTatalie, the Duchess of Diplomat's pre- miere femme de chamhre, was seized with such a paroxysm of admiration at the sight of Edith (which was both professional and profound — the former being for her toilette^ and the latter for her beauty), that she let fall a whole pehon of cashmeres upon an ossa of cloaks, in order to clasp her hands for some seconds, before she had sufficiently recovered her self-possession to inquire what sort of wrap she should have the honour of looking out for Madame La Comtesse. And the perfectly Parisian accent and equally Parisian grace with which Edith, in thanking Mademoiselle Natalie, described « her little white Algerian striped bournouse, lined with pale green, was even more lovely in the eyes and ears of the souhrette than the transcendant beauty which had at first captivated her. Lovers are almost a ubiquitous race, otherwise it would have been strange hovr Mr. Lancaster had managed to get there just BEHIND THE SCENES. 223 in time to put on that identical boiirnouse, and to hold the bou- quet^ while its owner plunged her little feet daintily shod with white satin, into a pair of small violet and silver Russian over- shoes ; and it would have been stranger still, but for certain mysterious affinities — the secrets of whose chemistry are known to all who love I — how the slight and almost imperceptible pres- sure of his hand on hers, as he returned the flowers — could have sent all the blood from her heart, thrilling up in one mighty rush to her cheeks. But never yet were two hearts busied in compos- ing an Odyssey of this nature, but what the fell common-place of some harsh prosaic sound, was sure to come crashing and jarring between their harmonious strophes and anti-strophes ; and now it came in the form of the stentorian voice of the hall porter, echoed by a score of lacqueys, announcing that — '' Archdeacon Panmuir's carriage stops the way ! " "Archdeacon and Miss Panmuir coming out ! " re-roared another detachment ; which gave Mr. Lancaster an opportunity of oflering his arm to Edith, as the Archdeacon redoubled his assiduities to his own Paletot^ which had a restive sleeve. " Now my dear Edith," said the reverend gentleman, as soon as they had turned out of Park Lane, and he had flung himself back into one corner of his luxurious Clarence — " that Mr. Lancaster is all very well, as young men go, and as he seems a huge favourite with the two Duchesses, you must be civil to him, and all that ; but, take my advice, don't encourage his at- tentions too much, you may be sorry for it if you do — when this slippery young Duke of Liddesdale makes his appearance. Depend upon it, old heads are wiser than young ones, and / can see further into a millstone than most people." SECTIOT^ IX. "I press towards the mark.'''— Phil. iii. 14'. " It's well to be off with the old love Before you are on with the new." Old Song. " High hopes have ofttimes hard fortunes ; And such as hastily snatch at the branches Are apt to stumble at the root." When Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars quitted the Duchess of Diplomat's^ he dismissed his Brougham and walked, or rather shot on, into Oxford Street, where, calling a Hansom, he flung himself into it, telling the man to — " Drive like the d 1 to No. — in the Edgeware Road." " How be I to know how you drives, ven I've never seed you handle the ribbons ? " muttered Cabby as he scrambled into his perch, being only half awake, and not sober quite to the same extent. ISText to a mail-bag, nothing in creation expedites so many hopes, fears, and conflicting passions, as hack horses^ poor animals ! — blessed are they even in their purgatory — that though they aid and further them all, they are not responsible for any of them, or else the poor phantom steed that now panted on towards the Edgeware Road, might have found his freight far too heavy for liis ossified strength. The Hansom at length stopped at one of those two-wnndowed, narrow-doored brick tene- ments peculiar to London, and which appear to be constructed BEHIND THE SCENES. 225 for the express purpose of narrowing the mind and condensing vice into the most concentrated focus possible, so as to render its virus the more baneful and fatal. Lio-hts dared throuo-h the bare-looking white linen blinds of what was by courtesy called the drawing-room of this domi- ciliary band-box ; and through its blotting-paper walls were dis- tinctly heard some of Beethovens enchanting strains upon an indifferent piano, played in a masterly manner ; which, how- ever, suddenly ceased the moment the cab stopped at the door. Before the driver had finished knocking, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had sprung to the pavement, and a sleepy and slipshod maid of all-work — her vermilion locks carefully papered in lumpy, greasy-looking packets, like superannuated maintenon cutlets round her forehead, while her face and hands were profusely black-leaded — had scarcely opened the door, ere he rushed in, flinging the cabman a shilling. " Vot's this here for ? it haint my fare," said the latter, contemplating the coin the while with a sort of archgeological scrutiny. " Oh ! isn't it ? " cried Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, slamming the door in his face ; " then the moi-e handsome on my part ; for you know handsome is as Hansom does ; " and grinning with de- light at this elegant piece of wit, which he resolved upon mak- ing a present to his friend Mr. Carlo Dials, at their next meeting, he cleared four or five of the narrow stairs at a time, and soon found himself on the first landing, in the slipshod and dishevel- led presence of Fraulein Gothekant. " Ah ! Tot a time you 'ave keep me vaiting," exclaimed she, in what she fondly believed to be the purest English ; for we may here mention in confidence to the public, trusting it won't get bruited about in any private circles, that Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, though he had long extacised in the most high-pres- sure style upon German literature, and translated divers German poems and tales, was yet innocent of knowing a single guttural of that most bronchitial language ; so much for appearances and circumstantial evidence. 10* 226- ' BEHIND THE SCENE^?, " I have got," continued Fraulein, " the most loajiy supper t- — a cabbage s^upe, how you call it ? — and dose big loatly onioi> of Spain, and now dey vill be all colt — dey gat so soon colt." " Are onioiis then so lik« love ! my charming friend, that the hotter they are, the sooner they cool?" asked the gentle- man thus apostrophized, with a mock heroic air, and the ghost of a leer. " IS"©, not in a Garman hearts ; but de Anglishe he is a colt peoples, de loafers and all," responded Fraulein, throwing up her large eyes, which were not on that account the more beau- tiful, being of a fishy, yellowish green, watery hue — of which, however, none of her other features had any cause to be jealous — as her cheek-bones rose high like two bastions on either side of her nose: while her mouth was more like a loner zisf-zasj sheep-walk, than any thing else, with various pufBng-s and pro- jections about it, as if for the last twenty years the remorseless and battering-ram gutturals of her mother tongue had been- hurled from her throat with such an impetus, as to mutilate and maltreat her lips in the most shocking manner in i>ssuing from them ; while her elf locks of black hair, she wore a I'enfant about her shoulders, and from a more Celtic, than Circean, habit she had of scratchina; her head to elicit ideas durino- lier literary gestations, and midnight translations for Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars (which he afterwards did into polished English at his great paper works), its mazes more resembled those of the Cretan labyrinth than of " the lady's real head of hair ; " so that her chief points of attraction consisted in youth, a trim little figure, and having some brains inside of her head — if she had no beauty outside of it, — which brains in a woman, men of Mr. Ponsonby Fei-rars' calibre like well enough for use, how- ever they may eschew them for companionship ; and, although her national mixture of coarseness and cleverness, saurkraut^and sentiment, often jarred upon the delicate perceptions of the fine gentleman ; still her German, and other grammatical and governess attributes, were exceedingly useful to the profession ai fiEIIIKD THE SCENES. 227 litterateur ; so that, as the advertising puffs say relative to pur- chasing tallovr candles "wholesale, in instalHng Fraulein Adelaida Gotheliant among the Odalisks of his Zenana — he had " com* bined economy with utihty." " Prician protect me ! What I do I hear lovers in the plural number ? I had flattered myself your knowledge of the Euglish had not been so extensive, Adelaida ? " "iSTo intede, de loafer I have is in te singular number, and a var singular loafer he is, so seldom to coam near me ; and to keep me vaiting suppere vhen he dose coam, and spoil all my loafly onion of Spain in dis vay. But coam," added she, open- ing a small folding door into another little den, called in the house, " the dining-room," — "let us go to suppere at last; for I am quite exhause, exhause, — how you say ? — wid griefs and hongers." " Faugh I supper-^and such a supper 1 — I have this moment dined ; but I shall be charmed to see my Light of the Harem at her ' feast of roses,' — cabbage roses, though they be ! " " Ah ! doujours le hersifflage^'' muttered Fraulein, in what she intended for French (I) which she always resorted to when she was determined her inamorato should understand her, and at the same time that she did not hke to run the risk of being cutting in (un) plain English — '■^ Houi^ doujours le bersifflage ! ''* she repeated, as she plunged a knife, in most dagger-like style, into the very heart of one of " the loafly onion of Spain ! " " Au contraire, ma belle," replied the gentleman ; " I never was more serious ; for, first of all, are you not about to leave me for a time to-morrow? and, next, we have a little matter of business to transact, but as I never can do anything without my pipe (which was quite true ; for, like most modern celebri- ties, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars could do nothing without a puff I and after all this was but common gratitude, for puffs had been the making of him !) so with your permission, Adelaida, I will light my meerschaum ; but have you any brandy in the house ?" And so saying, he took a large German pipe from the chimney^ 228 iiEtllKD TEiE SCENES* piece, and plunged his fingers into a blue jar of Latakai beside it — pipes and their supply being the fixed Lares and Penates of his numerous promiscuous abodes. The brandy, having been brought from a neighbouring caSare^, Avas, as maybe supposed^ pronounced execrable ; so, flinging the vermihon-locked Hebe a sovereign, he ordered her (though it was then past midnight) to take a cab and go to the Hyde Park Hotel for a bottle of cognac; holding out the seductive promise, that if it v/as not genuine, when she brought it he would fling it at her head, and make her pay for it out of her wages. As the small, scan- tily, and vulgarly furnished room became enveloped in clouds of smoke, the tableau to be seen athwart them, however it might have been historic, was certainly not classical; for per- haps, after all, setting aside conventionalities, the most vulgar thing in the world is vice ; it must necessarily be so from its contacts ; and the features of the man now puffing out, in that chair, the vapour of life with that of tobacco — features which nature had, at least, made aristocratic — were daily and hourly calcining down into the mirey and debased type of sensuality and cynicism. Whenever his peculiarly animal and revolting- looking mouth was for a moment freed from the amber tube of the j^ipe, an expression of mingled disgust and contempt elongated the corners of it, as he looked at his poor companion, shovelling (for no other word could express her gastronomic gymnastics), with the whole blade of her knife, " the loafly onion of Spain !'' into her capacious mouth. And yet he felt grateful to anything that went into it, inasmuch as that it prevented the horribly discordant sounds that were wont to issue out of it. For among his epicurean sensitivenesses, forced and stimulated to the ut- termost, he was not, of course, without a due appreciation of that most paramount and magnetic of all psychological spells, a sweet voice ; fresh, too, from Edith, who, had she been hideous, instead of " passing fair," had still a voice with whose sole, yet concrete witchery, she might have wooed and won a world ; for to its gentle, silvery, ever-varying, yet always perfectly m.o- BEHIND THE SCENES. 229 diilated inflections, even the world-wide fame of Cleopatra's must have been second. Then, too, the whole entourage was so coarse, so vulgar, so material; for it matters httle whether the shrine be of common clay, or of gilded marble, it is the presiding divinity who debases or exalts it. Put an elegant and refined woman in the highest garret, or the lowest cellar, and there will still be a subtle and purifying atmosphere of spiritual superiority, ris- ing beyond and dominating the worst meannesses of locahty. "Whereas, place a vulgar and common-place one in the Palace of the Genii, surrounded by sybarite etherealisms, and her sole presence will rob them of every grace, and make them " of the earth, earthy." Even Nature's most exquisite of all poetry (after her starry epics), her fugitive pieces, the flowers I — the vulgar can contrive to vulgarize, for who has not seen some bright young queenly rose, surrounded by her fragrant court of pansies, hehotropes, myrtle, and mignonette, democratically ban- ished to some blue mug ! or yellow jug 1 or incarcerated in tor- turing perpendicularity in some blue, green, or lilac hyacinth glass ? But we must leave the flowers, and return to the bulbs* After having discussed the " loafly onion of Spain ! " Fraulein took a deep draught of the "loafly beer of England." " Ah ! dat is so goote I " said she, laying down the glass, and drawing a long breath after her exertions. " AYell," cried Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, pointing with his pipe to the tin cover of a dish that had not yet been revealed, but much in the same tone of mingled wonder and curiosity that he would have pointed to one of Monsieur Robin the conjuror's tin pyramids, and asked him what he meant to do next — " what d — d thing have you got under there ? " " Oh ! dat is dogs and beans f but I shall not take none, for I eat so much to my dinnere (I am so ver fond of dogs and beans) dat I quite make my stomach to ache, till I scream wis de pains, and I robe, and robe, and was oblige to take de oil of de cas — " * Anglice, ducks and peas. 230 BEHIND THE SCEKESi " There ! there ! for heaven's sake ! that's enough ! " cried her companion, first stopping his ears, and then dashing the bowl of his pipe with as much vengeance on the hob as if it had been the brains of his fair German friend. " Real!}', vone vonld tink," said the latter, shrugging her shoulders, " dat you groache* me de littell enjoyments I haves." " Heaven forbid ! " replied he, with a responsive shrug, while he refilled his pipe ; " but when you have finished your ' dogs and beans,' or cats and cauhflowers, or any other little culinary rarities that you may feel inclined to discuss, we will talk about the very comfortable and highly lucrative engagement I have got for you with Mrs. Piers Moncton." " Oh, I have dones now," said Fraulein, putting back her chair in a retrograde manner as she rose from, the table, and making her sleeve do the duty of a napkin, wiping her mouth across it, while she seized a fork, and compelled it to perform little amateur experiments in dental surgery, not usually expect- ed from, or executed by similar implements; after which, she approached Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, inhaled with great gusto the fumes of his meerschaum, as she would have done the air of her native hills, and then put her arm round his neck, from which he recoiled as if a boa constrictor had suddenly paid him the same little friendly attention. "There, my dear Adelaida," said he, slij^ping through the coil, and then rising, in order to place a chair for her at the op- posite extremity to his own. "Sit down; it is bad for the di- gestion to move about immediately after eating; so for the next ten minutes consider me, ' Sir Oracle,' and ' when I ope my mouth let no dog bark,' at least none of those that you have been eating, and as for the beans, I am Pythagorean in my principles as regards them, so pray ' breathe not their name ' for the future. But w^hat is much more germane, if less German, to the matter, is, that I am delighted to tell you, that the Para- Grud< isEHi'Ni) TiiE SCENES. 23t Site of Pennaiior never half so elTectually succeeded in convinc- ino- Sio-norGil Bias of Santillane that he was the ei^'hth wonder of the world ! as I have in making that little fool Mrs. Moucton believe that you ai-e; and upon the strength of it, she has con- sented to give you seventy guineas a year ; so that from this out, my dear Adelaida, that is while you retain her situation, I shaU allow you only £30 a year, which, with the £70 you will receive from lierj wih make up the £100 a year. I promised to give you : don't you see ? " " N'on !■ non ! dat is not vair, not vot you promeese me," cried Fraulein, rising and pacing the room in great perturbation, as she tightly folded her arms, and shook her elf locks like an incipient storm to and fro. " You tell to me viist dat as soon as your ole relation die, you shall make me de Frau von Ver- rars ; and ubon dat, I consent bevore ban to pay you my obe-- clience as a vife, — I stay shut up in de house, in de ole gown just like von English vife, vile you go about every vere, voryour 23leasure, like de English husband. Moreover, I clean your meerschaum, translate all your vine ting from de Garman, knit you stockings vich you never vear, and make you loafly cab- bage soup vich you nevare eat ; like de goot German vife ; and for all dis, to be vife, and no vife, you give to me von hondert pounds a year 1 first breaking de income tax off of him ! and I try hard to live on him in your dear country, and to send somes out of him to my poor mooter 1 who tink I am de rich Frau von Veri'ars; and now because I get place to zlave myself as governess, and be your zpy to tell you all dat go on in dis Meesse Moncton's house, you vant to cheat me out of seventy pound year! You are bad, bad man; I bel-lieve you to be all lie, all cheat ! I don't tink you have got no ole voman going to die, and to leaves you monies ; ai\d if she did, lam sure you vould sbend it all on de vorship ove yourselves, and vould never give to me von kreutzer, or even make me de Frau von Verrars ; but I shall stay here ; I vill not go and be governess to nobo^ dy!" 232 BEHIND THE SCENEis. " Very well, madame," said her auditor, in his turn rising and folding his arms, " stay here and starve 1 You cannot be such a fool as not to know that you are completely in my power, and that consequently your means of subsistence depend wholly and solely upon my will and pleasure. Dare to thwart me but in the smallest degree 1 and not another sou shall you ever receive from me ; and decidedly your heauty ! will not be likely to procure you more from any other source." Stung to madness by the cowardly, cold-blooded villainy of this fiendlike threat, the big tears now rolled' down the poor German girl's pale cheeks, made paler by many a prolonged vigil at the oar of her destroyer's literary galley, at which he had branded and chained her. " Non ! non ! I vill not starve to please you ! " she cried, with fearful energy, her eyes glaring wildly, and lit up by the red glow of two crimson spots that had suddenly burst out like two bude lights on the high summit of each cheekbone ; — " I have slave hard for you, to destroy myself, I vill now slave though not zo hard, to zave and subbort myself and my moo- ter, my poor mooter ! " And here the poor creature burst into a paroxysm of natural tears, which for a moment fell like a refreshing shower upon the parched and arid desolation of her supernatural excitement. " And pray, madam," said her inhuman betrayer, with the look and in the withering, mocking tone of a fiend, " who do you think will be likely to engage my cast-ofF mistress for a governess, when once that fact is publicly known — as I will take care it shall be ? " " Non, non ! " almost shrieked the unhappy girl, — " I am not your mistresses, vor you promise, you zwear by all dat is zacred in heaven and earts dat you make your vifes of me." " And a pretty fool you must have been ! not to know that when a man of my rank talks of love to a woman of yours, such promises are nothing more than the simulated base coin of sterling proposals, which pass admij-ably in the mart of seduction for BEHIND THE SCENES. 233 the purchase of light merchandize; therefore, of course you knew, my dear," added he with infernal irony and sang froid, '• that I merely intended to seduce you." His wretched companion stopped suddenly sliort in her hurried and excited pacing to and fro, and elongating her arms as she dug her nails into the palm of each hand with a sort of spasmodic convulsion, looked almost handsome from the in- spired flash of honest indignation, which ht up her whole being', limbs, as well as features; notwithstanding the almost maniac mixture of the ludicrous, and the horrible, in her words, as she hissed out through her set teeth — " Man teijle ! it is false, false as hell I or as yoii,, vich is de same ting ; — how should I know you only mean to seduce me ? — I nevere vos seduce before ! No von ever speak to me of loaf MW you come vid de 'Rohler' under von arm, and de whole of de ' Piccolomini ' under de oder ; and ven I ask you vot you pay me for de translation, you tell to me dat ve most not talk of de nasty money, dat you loafs me to distractions 1 Oh ! yes, dat vas true, at all events ; for de distractions is come, but it is to me. You talk dis loaf to me day after day, for twelvemont, till I vinish to translate Schiller vor you ; you tell to me I shall be de Frau von Verrars, but dat it cannot be till your ole relation die, but you shall give to me till den von hon- dret a year. I tink of my poor mooter wis scarce as many tha- iers at Manheim, and I fall into your vile guet-a-pens ! Now, indeed, I onderstan vot it is to be fool I It is to believe dat de fine gentlemans vould be ashame before men to tell lies, and afraids before God to break his oats (oaths) ; but from dis hour I know and I despise you — great man as you tink yourself! and poor Garman girl as you tink me? but I shall" — Here she was suddenly interrupted by the return of the red- haired nymph with the brandy. The name of this Hebo was Caroline ; but Fraulein had condensed and travestied it into the afiectionate diminutive and incognita of "CorryI" So now turning to her, with her sobbing voice and swollen eyes, she hastily vociferated. 234 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Corry ! you get for me von cab dis minute — I leave dis house directly — I take myselfs avay now dis instant ! " The frightened handmaiden, whose ardent locks actu- ally appeared to grow redder under excitement, now looked hurriedly from her soi-disant mistress to her real master, where- upon the latter, in his usual dictatorial tone, thundered out — "At your peril, presume to do any thing of the kind ! Leave the room ! " And Cony, who was in the habit of flying before him as dust does before a March wind, vanished instantly, — only too happy to have his fiatical w^arrant for her exit ; while he seized the poker by the centre, and with its top knocked the neck off the bottle of cognac ; after which he poured out and drank at a drauo-ht, half a tumbler of that mild and soothino- beverao-e ! But to do Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars justice, — exclusive of the de- rangement that all violent excitement occasions to the nervous sj^stem, and to the digestive organs, and independent of his mascuhne horror of scenes in general ; and his peculiar the- ories, and practice, of a piano, and languid deportment, as the distinguishing mark of a fine gentleman, and one of the most celebrated fatuities about town, — he had, in common v.-itli other wild beasts and birds of prey, a decided partialit}^ for luring his victims by the suave blandishments of treachery, rather than seizing upon them by the open powers of violence ; therefore, whenever the raging devil within him rose rampant to the sur- face, and wagged its head out of his eyes, and lashed its tail through his mouth, — no sooner did reflection give him time to summon his constant Sbirri, Caution and Hypocrisy, than he sent it " down, down to hell ! " again, pacifying it with a sop of promised future triumph; so that now, having replaced the empty glass upon the table, drained as it was to the last drop, he shifted his ground, and changed his tactics ; for, approach- ing his victim, and attempting to encircle her waist with his arm, which, however, she avoided by bounding, as if she had been galvanized, to the other end of the room — - BEHIND THE SCENES. 235 " My dearest Adelaida," said he, in his softest and most penitential voice, impiously joining his hands as if in prayer, " forgive me, pray forgive me ! I did not mean one word of all I said to my own little wifey ; but women are so d — d pro- voking, and do say such cutting things, that they quite madden one ; and when you doubted my honour ! and above all my love ! for you, I was stung into saying all those bitter words which only came from my lips, but never from my heart." "Xon ! " broke in the still indio-nant thouo'h m-aduallv soft- ening Adelaide, "because I believe you have not got no heart for notink to coame from." " Ungrateful girl ! " ejaculated Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, throw- ing up his eyes, his right arm springing up after them, as if im- pelled by machinery, while his whole tone and manner were those of the injured and despairing lover, as the part is miscon- ceived and misrepresented at minor theatres, " is this the return you make me," he continued, " for having sacrificed my youth ! my hopes ! my ambition ! my all ! at the shrine of love ? — for once our intended marriage known (and do I not run the con- stant risk of having my visits to you discovered), all my expec- tations from my aunt are at an end, and yet you can, after such self-sacrifice and devotion on my part, thus coolly, thus heartlessly throw me off!" The poor bewildered girl looked up through her tears. She had heard a hurricane of fine words, uttered in an impassioned manner, in a language which she understood but very imper- fectly, and she did not know what to believe : so like most women in a similar dilemma, she set reason at defiance, and tried to believe what she wished. "I trow you off"! non ! non ! — is it possibles, den, dat after all you loaf me ? " " Is it possible that you can doubt it ? " " Ah ! but what for den you say to me such cruel, such vicked ting ? " " Why did you, dearest Adelaida, goad me into madness by saying such bitter, such unjust things ? " 236 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Non ! not unjust ; for you tiy to take from me vot you promise to me, and vot I vork ver hard for, and vot I Lope to lay by for a provisions for my poor mooter at de end of her days. Ah ! it is ver bad, ver ladre dat, it is not loaf dat — oh, no, it is not loaf ; loaf give all, but you take all. Non, non ! I have dream, but now I waken ; it is not loaf, dere is no loaf, dere never was no loaf, and I may trow myself to de Thames venever I please." Critical as the crisis was, her heartless companion could not resist indulging in his idea of a jest,, so he said — " Pray don't, for only think how it would frighten the fish !" " Vot you mean by frighten the vishV cried she, glaring at him, exasperated at the vague suspicion she had, that he was tui-ning her misery into ridicule. " That is an English idiom, my own love," said the monster, " which means that you would commit murder as well as suicide ; for you do not suppose I could live an hour after you ? " She groaned, and shook her head incredulously, as she sent an electric telegraph message through all the long vistas of her memory, demanding a return of the names of bad men who had nevertheless had the one virtue of loving, and that deeply and sincerely : foremost on the list was Nero, and his infatua- tion for Poppsea ; Caligula, and his devotion to Csesonia ; wind- ing up with Harry the Eighth, whom death cut off before he had time to cut off Catherine Parrs head, and whom therefore history kindly assumes that he loved. Though not exactly aware that she was trying him by his peers, Mr. Ponsonby Fer- rars saw that she was deliberating about something ; and as we generally judge others by ourselves, he concluded that that something was money ; so resuming his contrite and concilia- tory tone, he said — "Now, my dearest love, with regard to that paltry money, which was the origin of all this, as indeed it generally is the root of all evil, I have peculiar and tenacious prejudices about BEHIND THE SCENES. 237 monetary transactions between man and wife, in which light we may consider oui*selves ; that is, I hate and detest the separa- tion and limitation (!) of allowances, and pin money, and all that sort of thing ; for where there is but one heart, so should there be but one purse,* and all I meant was, that as I was devilish hard up just now, I would merely give you £30 a-year during the time you were with Mi's. Moncton, thereby consider- ing that my own Adelaida gave me £10, of which I happened to be in want, reserving to myself the future far greater satis- faction of giving her (when my coffers were better replenished) a much larger sum, without limit or stipulation." " Ah ! if you had but say so to me at first," sobbed the poor girl, still half bewildered from the stunning villany of his former threats, and staring wildly around her, to try and anchor her aching eyes and senses upon the solid basis of some reality, " you know ver well I do not desire better den to give you alls I could, but dat is ver different from de cruel ting you say to me before, and I do fear dat as in wines, so in de passion, men speak de trute, and dat vot you say to me now is only de ritse, de manoeuvre de chicane.''^ " Adelaida ! " cried he, flinging himself on his knees before her, and seizing both her hands, which she vainly struggled to get away from him, " I swear to you by — " Xon ! non ! " — said she' interrupting him — " do not swear ; I hate swear, and you have broken my hearts, so it cannot hold any more of your promise." Here Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, who had regained his feet, made another abortive attempt to embrace her, and in the struggle pushed down a piece of Berlin work that was covering a small bird-cage that hung in the window, tenanted by a starling, which had travelled with its mistress all the way from Manheim. * Which of course the man should keep to himself intact, without the woman ever presuming to infringe upon it, thought Mr, Punsonby Ferrars, though it did not at this moment suit his purpose to say so. 2-38 BEHIND THE SCENES. '' Leave me alone," said Fraulein repulsing him — " I cannot forget." Thus disturbed, and seeing the lights which he mistook for the sun, the starling, as if in an admonitory endorsement of her assertion, broke in with a loud, " Vergiss mein nicht!" * " Ah ! " half shrieked his mistress, " it is as ifs my poor mooter spoke to me, for she taught you dat ! Non, my poor leetel freins, I shall not forgets — nor forget you." And she sank into an arm-chair, in such a paroxysm of hysterics, that it ended in a dead swoon. Now it was, that her companion being left alone, took counsel of his familiar ; he looked at his victim for a few seconds with a conflicting expression of resolution and irresolu- tion ; that is, he had evidently resolved upon the execution of some still darker villainy, yet was irresolute as to the mode of executing it; he mechanically put his hands simultaneously into each of his waistcoat pockets in quest of something, which apparently not finding, he muttered — "D — n it, I've left it at home." After which, looking furtively round the room, a sort of fiendish joy lit up his ghastly features, as upon the mantelpiece he descried a small purple morocco homoeopathic medicine-case containing about two dozen Lilliputian phials, of wonderful antidotes, but at the same time subtle poisons. He seized it, and as he did so, while selecting one from the most deadly of its contents, the train of thought which passed through his mind was this — he tightly closing his right eye the while, and with the forefinger of his right hand deliberately, at measured intervals, counting upon the first, second, and third fingers of his left hand, as if he had been dissecting a syllogism preliminary to pronouncing the conclusive probatum est, or Q. E. D. — " The devil of it is, that a sudden death entails an inquest ; and then, my liaison with her would come out — and that would never do just at this moment ; but, no ; what a fool I am ! — * Forget me not. BEHIND THE SCENES. 239 all that can be easily arraDged : Blackiswhite, of ' The Morning Puff,' and Taurus, of ' The Jack Ass,' will insert anything I please ; and a strong equinoctial puff in both the morning and evening papers, with a pasquinade compliment, which Carlo Dials can get paid me in next Wednesday's ' Judy,' about my benevolent and generous Hterary patronage of this poor young- German girl, and my kind exertions to get her a situation with Mrs. Moncton, coupled with the strong prima facire evidence of her ugliness, will soon lay that phantom, and put the sapient public com2:»letely on a wrong scent. A glorious thing, the Press — certainly ! at least, when one's of it. How completely it silenced and mystified the world, and how cleverly it got Wober out of that murder of his upon Ormeton, more cleverly still trying to blast Mrs. Wober's character, by shifting all the odium upon her. That is where we leviathans of the Press are so masterly in always crushing the victims, and erecting a pe- destal of their mutilated remains whereon to elevate the asfores- sor beyond justice up to the artificial level of public admiration ! — Who was it called woman ' a beautiful error in creation ? ' " continued he, eyeing the still inanimate form before him — " Well, there can be no doubt of the error, though the beauty is sometimes left out ; but the real error of her creation is her perpetuity ; decidedly she should have ended with her mission, which is to please in whatever shape that may be, whether as a monetary medium as an heiress, or as one of enchantment as a houri, or even as a useful drudge, like that poor wretch there. But when she ceases to please, — assuredly, had nature been complete in her conception, she would have so organized her, that she should cease to exist. What a devil of a bore it would be if all our pleasures were permitted to haunt us de jure ! for ever after we had dismissed them de facto. Shade of Apicius ! what theoretical indigestions one would have of long discussed salmis, and hecatombs of truflfles ! — what bottle imps would haunt one whose spirit had long since fled ! — in short, far worse than the skeleton of the Egyptians at their banquets, Belshaz- 240 BEHIND THE SCENES. zar would have to give us the wall, for we should have a ' Mene Tekel Upharsin ' engraved with our armorial bearings upon every dish ! " " Well, now, let me see, which of these ? " and he held the label of one small bottle after another to the light, murmuring their names — " pulsatilla, brionia, nux-vomica," till he came to " belladonna," which latter he replaced with a demoniac sneer, muttering — '• Scarcely ; for the homoeopathic principle is like to like ; it would be a sort of mauvaise plaisanterie unbefitting the so- lemnity of the occasion. Ah ! come, this is better — ' Aconite ; ' now for the denouement ; a plot is no plot unless it is natu- rally, as well as graphically worked up. Yes, tliat is it. When I have given her half of this bottle, though a quarter would do the business, I must leave the phial in her hand, the grasp of death is a tight one ; she will not be likely to drop it ; then I must burn all her letters, lest anything in them should transpire to criminate me ; when I say all, not those of Professor Grun- tandstern, praising my kindness in endeavouring to get her a governess's place, and lauding my German translations to the skies — those she keeps tied with a piece of blue ribbon. Ah ! by Jove, well thought of; I must see that the desk is there, it would be too unlucky if she should have packed it up ? " And he took one of the candles, and noiselessly opened the folding- door leading to the other room ; there he found the desk with the key in it ; he seized it, and having brought it into the sup- per-room, and replaced the light on the table, he actually hugged himself (or perhaps it was his interior friend) with de- hght at his success. "Now," thought he, "for the final touch, I must ring as if the house was on fire (after I have given it to her), for that d — d ugly red-haired maid, who must find me tearing my hair like a madman, I must tell her to go instantly for all the doctors in the place ; for that her ipisfress has poisoned herself by taking an over dose of aconite ; that she was in such spirits at the idea of Mrs. Moncton having en- BEHIN13 THE SCENES. 241 ^ged her, that she was laughing and talking after supper, and not looking at the quantity of globules she was letting drop into the six dessert spoonfuls of water she had measured out ; that I cned out in horror to her not to drink it ; but before I could get across the room to snatch the glass out of her hand, she had swallowed the greater part of the <3ontents — the rest I must carefully leave in the glass to be analysed ; and this story I must get the girl to listen to, that she may give it in her evi- dence, as it is the one I mean to stick to with the doctors ; and while she is gone for them, I can burn the letters. Yes, that's it. Now^ for it ! " continued he, looking nervously round the room, and his hand trembling in spite of himself, as he poured out more than half the contents of the phial of aconite into about a wine-glassful of water, which he carefully measured by spoonfuls, thoroughly dissolving the whole in a tumbler. " If I can but only pour it down her throat, without rousing her ! " and once more he looked fearfully round the small room, filled with false shadows from the long wicks of the candles. " Tush I what a fool I am ! " added he, pouring out some more brandy and drinking it off. " I am not a dog, that I should be fright- ened at shadows ; and my position in the world ; my apparent despair ! my instantly sending for medical advice ; and my fear- lessly giving up the remainder of the glass to be analysed — must and will ward off everything like suspicion from me ; no one can see me — no one is here to " — "Vergiss mein nicht ! " screamed the starling, who had hitherto watched his proceedings in silence, turning its head from one side to the other, after the manner of birds ; and who now uttered these sounds in such a shrill and piercing voice, accompanied by a flapping of his wings, that the glass fell from the trembhng hand of the intended murderer and, shivered into a thousand fragments at his feet. These combined noises restored the suspended animation of Adelaida, who little dreamt of the fate she had so naiTowly es- caped. At the sight of her returning senses, and the conse- 11 242 BEHIND THE SCENES. quent defeat of his scheme, it would have been impossible to say to what depth of the infernal regions Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars consigned the poor starling; for like all those who have little faith in, or allegiance to God, he had the widest possible belief in the existence and potent influence of devils ; being learned to a degree in daemonology, having Peter Thyrarus the Jesuit's tract, " De Locis Infestis," at his fingers' ends, and Sigismuudus Scheretzius '* Lile de Spectris" by heart ; so that he held with Paracelsus and Cardan, that there were Foliots, Lares, TruUi, and other imps, who batten on bad dead men's souls, and who, by their nocturnal noises, when assuming the shape of birds, dogs, and other animals, scare and cheat living sinners out of their revenge. One of these, in his frustrated bewilderment, he now fully beheved the starling to be ; and certain it is that the ghost of CaHgula, which, according to Suetonius, used to walk in Lavinia's garden, where his body was buried, never appalled her affrighted slaves half so much as the small, quick, bright, black eyes of that little bird, now peeping in and out through his rus in urhe of groundsel, did this " clever man," one of whose clever plots its overlooked insignificance had caused the subversion of. " Vere am I ? Vot am I ? " said Fraulein, trying to recol- lect herself. " Unfortunately, wide awake," muttered her companion. " Vot is dis ? " continued she, looking with a sort of half conscious interrogation at the small phial of aconite that had been placed in her hand. " Ah ! mine Goat ! I have no take all dis, surely ! " cried she, eyeing with consternation its greatly di- minished contents ; " I have not take all dis ; if I have I am deads ! " " No; yo*i would have done so, 'though, but for that dam — ahem — dear bird. Adelaida, my dearest love, you really must go to bed ; you are not well, and if you don't take care of your- self you won't be able to go to Mrs. Moncton's next week ; and think what a sad thing that would be for you, for me, for BEHIND THE SCENES. 243 your poor mother ; for are we uot all one family, my own love ? " " Your own loaf ? " murmured slie, looking vacantly up in his face, as the words fell upon her ear ; and then she added, " Non, non, I am not dying, you need not look so fright ; de big drops roll from your forehead, and yet your hand he is colder den mine !" said she, laying hers upon it. " Dying ! No, my dear Adelaida, no fear of that ! " ' Qui cupit optatum cursu contingere metam, Multa tulit fecitque puer, sudavit et alsit,* " muttered he, aside ; and at the same time giving a hasty kick to the fragments of the broken glass which had contained the aconite. He had scarcely done so, when a black substance, that emitted divers coruscations, twined itself round his ancle. " Heavens ! what is that ? " exclaimed he, starting back as if the fell fiend already held him in his grasp. It was only a black cat, which had been sleeping under the sofa, and which bad seemingly been driven thence by thirst, for it now began lapping up the small pool of aconite that was slowly being ab- sorbed by the carpet ; and while the httle victim, " regardless of its doom," was thus employed, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars was equally busy in contradicting the disjointed testimony of his " dearest Adelaida's" returning senses, as to the conversation that had taken place between them, prior to her swoon ; and finally succeeded in persuading her that she had dreamt it all ; that they never had had a dispute about anything, and least of all about money — for what did he care for money, unless it was to lavish it upon her ? " But vot I do wid all dese medicines, and wid dis bottel I hold in my hands? " asked she, still doubtingly. " Ah ! there it is," replied he ; " when you were first taken ill, which I attribute entirely to the d — d sort of suppers you eat, I wanted to send oflf for a doctor ; you would not let me ; but with that inveterate obstinacy (which, I must say, is the only thing approximating to a fault in my little loife's charac- 244 BEHIND THE SCENES. ter) would insist upon doctoring yourself, and in your confusion, when that fainting fit was stealing over you, you mixed nearly half that bottle of aconite, which would Lave instantaneously caused your death, had I not, in an agony, wrested the tumbler from your hand ; in the struggle it fell, and was broken to atoms, but as you swooned before I had well snatched the poi- son from you, you retained the phial firmly in your grasp,* and my frantic despair at fancying you were really dead when you fainted, and the shrill cries of that poor bird, which I shall al- ways love for it, brought you to." " Tank you, mine friens, tank you," said poor Fraulein, stretching out her hand to him, accompanied by a large flabby look, meant to be extremely tender, but which, from the uncon- genial form and colour of her eyes, would have been extremely ludicrous, had it not been extremely horrible ! nor was a suitable accompaniment wanting to it, for presently the poor cat, with the most piteous and unearthly yells, began to bound and dart about the room, like one possessed. " Ah ! de gat ! de gat ! vot has he got, Tome, Tome, poor vellow ! vot is de matters vis you ? " Thus appealed to, the poor animal gave one supreme yell, and then sank down in fearful convulsions, its green eyes rolling like two meteoric fires in all directions, the foam gushing out of its mouth, till after two hard and final gasps, the poor thing was released from its terrific agonies by death. " Ah ! mine poor Tome ! mine poor gat ! he is dead ! " cried Fraulein, wringing her hands, as she stooped down to look at him. " My dearest love," said Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, in his softest voice, as he drew her away with gentle force towards the sofa ; " I would not for the world, at such a moment, upbraid you, or check that loveliest attribute of woman, pity ; but, for the sake of preventing future evil, I must impress upon you the fatal * The clever man forgot that, in that shadow of death — a swoon, the muscles of the fingers relax mstead of close. BEHIND THE SCENES. 245 consequences of your obstinacy, in not allowing me to send for a doctor, and insisting upon doctoring yourself ; that poor ani- mal, of whom you were so fond, and who was such a fitting companion for you, has fallen a victim to it, by lapping the aconite which you had mixed, and which I let fall in my anxiety to save you from a similar fate. True, it is only a cat ; but, Adelaida, life is a solemn and sacred thing ! which none have a right to take, save the great Being who bestows it." Scarcely had he concluded this fine sentiment, and ibid per- oration, which he was well aware would travel to Germany by the next morning's post, and figure in the " Augsberg Gazette " the following week, as an anecdote of " the great Ferrai-s 1 " than Fraulein threw her arms round his neck (and considering his revolting hypocrisy, the punishment, i\io\\g\i frightful^ was not too great), exclaiming as she did so, — " Ah, yes, you have de hearts, de vine, nobel hearts, aftere all ; nevere again vill I doubts it. And, oh ! how prouds I shall be ven all de vorlds shall know dat I am de Frau Von Verrars ! " As " he that consenteth to a thief is worse than the thief," so the accomphces of all sins are perhaps worse than their origi- nator, and, as pride is a vice, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars's moral per- ceptions (for this occasion only) were too nice to join in the an- ticipated pride of this misguided young person, consequently he renewed his entreaties that she would lose no time in seeking that rest of which she evidently stood so much in need, promis- ing to discuss their future prospects another time, and something after the fashion of that other great man. Major Longbow, wdio when his wife was killed by a cou}^ de soldi, while sitting at dinner, records that with infinite promptitude he rang for the servant to bring clean glasses, and sweep his mistress awa}^ He then rung for the red-haired maid to remove the remains of poor Grimalkin, and conduct the resuscitated German up-stairs. Having taken leave of her in the most affectionate manner, especially conjuring her to fling all homceopathic medicines into 240 BEHIND THE SCENES. the fire, adding that be did not much hke even leaving her with that " d — d red precipitate," as he allegorically called the brusque, bouncing maid ; but Fraulein having assured him that " CoRRY " was very attentive to her, he descended the narrow stairs in greater haste than he bad ascended them some three hours before, and, as he slammed to the ball-door after him, the clock of a neighbouring church struck three. Ob, Chance ! — thou hood-winked meter-out of this world's destinies, ever push- ing on vice and folly into high places and pleasant paths, and poking poor virtue and modest merit at best into obscure holes and corners, well dost thou keep tbe unities of thy promiscuous drama, stepping in wbere conscience has given up her garrison, and preventing crimes which would put their perpetrators even beyond thy mighty power to sbield from the rarely issued vetos of justice ! On ! on ! through the gray cold gloom of expiring night, stalked, like a delegate shadow from tbe nether powers, tbe clever man. In heaven, as on earth, tbe struggle was progress- ing between light and darkness. Another scion of eternity, another day was gliding from nature's lap, with life for its play- thing ! and death for its lesson ! and that it did not dawn upon another murderer was again thy gyratory work. Oh, Chance, thou great impenetrable Incognito of God ! SECTION X. " Cause me to know the way wherein I should walk, for I lift up my soul unto thee."— Ps. cxiv. S. " Unto the upright there ariseth light in the darkness." — Ibid. csii. 4. " Satan hath desired to have you, that he might sift you as wheat : but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not."— Luke sxii. 31, 32. " Oh ! what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side ! " SHAKSPEiEE. " Seems he a dove ? his feathers are but borrowed : For he's disposed as the evil raven." IMd, -" Chlamydemque ut pendeat apte CoUocat, ut limbus totumque appareat aurum." Otid. Met. 2. The morning after Fraulein Gotbekant's narro^y escape of going farther without, perhaps, faring worse, the sun — that impartial and very worldly luminary, which " shines alike on the just and on the unjust " — shot a timorous ray through the heavy brown velvet hangings, fringed with gold, on the carved oak book-cases and bronze busts of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' sitting-room in the Alban}^ while, in the equally large and still more luxuriantly- furnished bed-room annexed to it, Clarke, who, all his lite, had radiated as a valet, and now had the honour of acting as a sort of quotidian Frankenstein to that great man, and constructing him out of the most varied and incongruous materials for as- tonishing the world ! was drawing aside, with his left hand, 248 BEHIND THE SCENES; the heavy bed-curtains of crimson Genoa velvet, h'ned witfi richly flowered white Lyons damask, while, in his left, he held a small gilt salver, laden with letters, notes, and newspapers. " Beg pardon, sir," said he, in reply to his master's anything hut pious exclamation at being awakened, " but you particMar ordered, when you came home this morning, that I was not ta let you sleep a minute long-er than nine." " Ob, ah ! H 1 and the D 1, so I did ! " said the other, betw^een the interstices of a yawn, as he stretched his arms above his head, flinging, at the conclusion of this movement, his silk empecinado night-cap in Clarke's face, and telling him to, bring his pipe, as he snatched the letters off" the salver, and hastily broke the seal of one of them, and as hastily tossed it aside, after casting his eye over it. ''You'll excuse me, sir, but your orders was, that I was on no account to let any tobacco come within a mile of you, thi& morning, but, on the contrary, to prepare an ammonia warm bath, and a Hydrahell '^ douche for you, both of which is ready,. sir." For never w^ere Cleopatra, Popp^ea, Phryne, or Henry the Third of France, more skilled in the compounding of, or ad- dicted to the use of cosmetics, than was Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, thinking, no doubt, like these prototypes, that they had the power of varnishing over externally, the ravages thai vice made internally. "Ah ! true again ; I forgot. Give me ," addccd he^ merely pointing to a small gold filigree box on the toilet — for he seldom wasted more breath than these two words required, when issuing his mandates — preferring ta do so pantomimically. The box contained little dark tablets of some fragrant com- pounds for warranting the breath, and establishing an alibi for tobacco. " Deuce take it," muttered he, as he put one or two of them. ^ Hydrome], or honey and water , BEHIND TtlE SCENES. 249 into his mouth, " I never was so sleepy ; and then the ingrati- tude of the creatures, after all the trouble they give one : how- ever, she is worth it, — aye, as well worth it as Helen was worth the Trojan war: if indeed any woman is worth a ten years' siege. Presto ! we manage those things better now-a-days ! Faugh ! I've actually got the taste of those d d onions of last night still in my mouth, as \dvidly as if I had committed the enormity of eating them. ISTo wonder that squills should prevent the attraction of the magnet, for they would prevent the attraction of Venus herself. Clarke," added he, aloud — for the foregoing soliloquy had been a mental one — "I'll do my teeth in bed." " Very good, sir." And this human electric telegraph disappeared, and almost instantaneously re-appeared from the dressing-room, with two fine damask napkins slung over one arm, a gold basin contain- ing within it two gold mugs, one filled with tepid water, and the other containino^ some half-dozen diff'erent-sized sold-mount- ed tooth-brushes, a small phial of tincture of myrrh, and a flask of Arquebusade, all of which he arranged on the bed, so that his master should have hut the one indispensable trouble of brushing his own teeth, for even one of the napkins he tied un- der his chin, as if he had been an infant, and he held the ether with the tooth-powder and a small mirror before him. While Clarke was thus standing — not exactly like Patience — neither absolutely on a monument — a violent ring came to the outer door. " Who the d — 1 can that be ? Some of those d — d trades- people with their ' little account,' of which I take less account. Would they could be got to do the same. Ha! ha! ha!" grinned Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, as he always did at his own witty conceits ; and then recommenced the education of his teeth, but had scarcely done so when the ring was repeated more violently than before. " You had better see who it is, Clarke," said his master, 11* 250 BEHIND THE SOENEfe again pausii^rr in his operations; but, instead of moving, the va- let merely icplied, with the true sang froid of greatness, — " Mrs. Lyon is there, sir." "Ah, well! if it's any d — d dun, tell her I beg she'll be' Mrs. Tiger," and here a knock was heard at the bed-room door. " Go, quick ! Clarke ! I cannot be disturbed this morning, I am going out on particular business, and I ean't see any one — ^ not Mr. Trevylian, Mr. Coakington, or any body, mindT " Not Mr. Benaraby, sir ? " put in the ever-considerate valet, " Mr. Bendevil I not anyhody, sir ; do you understand Eng- lish, and be d — d to you ? " " Why, yes, of course, I do, sir, when you speak it so very plainly," bowed Clarke, as he walked to the door, upon open- ing which Mrs. Lyon, whose philosophy was quite Hudibrasticy as she always thought discretion was the wisest part of valour,, and, therefore, invariably kept as much out of her master's sight as possible, now slunk back behind the door, and poking in her skinny hand, at the end of which she gingerly lield a card, as if afraid that it would give her the plague, or else that she might communicate to it the small-pox, which had opened a branch railway in all directions over her face, she merely said, — " The gentleman would not stay a minute," and then in- stantly followed his example. The card was Mr. Benaraby's, and on it was scrawled in. pencil, — " Dear Ferrars, — Pray sup with me to-morrow night from one to three, at the Clarendon : I have 7iews for you." And under the word " news^^ was a broad heavy dash, ta render it more important and exciting. " D n it, can it be possible that the Redby party is com- ing in after all ? " thought he, as he read these lines ; but all he said was, — " My shppers, Clarke ; " and plunging his feet into theip Miniver-lined recesses, he made but three bounds from the bed to the bath-room, enjoying, for about twenty minutes, the ex- fiEHlND Ti3E SCENES. 25 1 qiiisitely-Iulling sensation, and the real dolce far nicnte of the ammonia bath. He next took a temporary plunge into health and freshness, as Clarke douched him with the icy-cold Hydro- mel, afterwards Avell rubbing him with proper Turkish bath- towels, and jniffinff him, but, this time, only with Pistachio nut powder and Foudre de Riz. Nor was it till he was again un- der Clarke's hands, during the curling of his whiskers, that he recurred to the word " news " on Mr. Benaraby's card, and once more began to ponder what its import could be. " For," added the clever man to himself, in reply to his last self-addressed query, '' he can't be such a d — d fool as to suppose that /can rejoice at the triumph oikis party, at the expense of my own, or to believe in the '•'- Seiivper hahens injlo.demque aliqiiemqui caret oretem^^'' and all that superannuated sort of fudge. ISTo, no ; he's much too shrewd a fellow for that ; too shrewd a man of the Avorld not to know that what is called friendship is nothing more than a convenient or necessary intercourse between man and man ; a slip-knot, tied by chance and circumstances, to serve a time and to suit a purpose ; that friends, in fact, are nothing more than those sort of impromptu and make-shift liens in the social scale, which napkins and 'kerchiefs are to lovers and pris- oners, constituting capital rope-laddei-s, upon an emergency, for either climbing or escaping, as the case may be ; and I have no objection to serve as a medium for any enterpiise of the former nature, as the ladder must be drawn in and cared for; he who uses it, alone putting his foot in it ; but for the joint-stock scape- goatism of the latter sort of adventures, saving one's friends on a pinch, helping a lame dog over a stile, and all that sort of thing; no, thank you. The hemp is not yet sown in the soil of my de- votion, that could produce a cord strong enough for that." With these, and similar reflections upon the possible, as well as pro- bable nature of the " news " Benaraby had to communicate to Lira, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' toilet progressed rapidly under the presiding and inventive genius of Clarke. Having duly anoint- ed his master's tresses with a golden-looking unguent called 252 tJBHiNi) THE SCENtSi Biocbrine, or, " Life of the Hair," that worthy suddenly paiisedj and waving his badge of office, the large ivory-backed hair-brush high in air, much after the same at once inspired and fiatical fashion that Jullien does his baton, he inquired the order of the day ? — that is, whether the coiffure was to be in the uncurled, lank, and listless sick-of-life style, the ehourifee blase sitr tout style, the House of Commons well-up in statistics style, or the crisp and conquering j»:)027zi de-vice creve Coeur wave ? Having decided upon the first of these as the most appropriate to his morning's undertaking, Clarke recommenced his operations, keeping in his mind's eye for models those two equally dull and equally greasy sources of enlightenment — a German student, and a tallow candle. Therefore, carefully brushing out all the lustrous biochrine, and collecting into heavy masses the meshes he had before so carefully separated into " airy " or as he him- self would have more aptly expressed it, into hairT/ " nothings," in less than a quarter of an hour he had succeeded in uniting the principal specialites of each of his models, and giving to his master's coiffure all the heaviness of the former, which toned in admirably with all the dulness of the latter. Jf the " meek-eyed goddess, Patience," does by accident ever take up her abode with any class of men, much less with any individual man, [the most dubious of all the numerous and un- certain family of the Ifs — this, by-the-by, which the author of " Notes and Queries " has never yet thrown any light upon,) most assuredly, the moment the said man, or men, are subjected to the toilet torture, or test, of putting on their cravats, — -Pa^ tience, by a metamorphose not mentioned in Ovid, (probably from the fact that the ancient Romans, notwithstanding their numerous crimes, were yet guiltless of cravats) ! yes, PatiencCj we say, instantly becomes love, and " At sight of human ties, Phiraes her hght wings and in a moment ilies ! " And long had she fled on the present occasion, before the little bEIilND THE SCENES. 253 haystacks of neckcloths that now strewed Mr. Ponsonby Fer^ rars' dressing-room, in bucolic bewilderment, had accumulated^ Clarke, who stood behind, at one side of his chair, watching his master's cancelled essays one after the other over his shoulder in the glass, now unfolded his arms, and said — " Beg pardon, sir ; but if you recollect, when-hevei' you have your hair in that style, you always wear a plain black silk hand- kerchief, twisted more hke an 'ay (hay) wisp than anything helse round your neck, with what Mr. Coakington calls ' a go^ to-the-d — 1 tie, sir, with the long hends dangling gibbet-ways^ sir.' " *' Ah ! very true," replied his master, flinging down the Last of the Mohicans in the shape of one of Ludlem's " latest new summer patterns." " Why the deuce did you not remind me of that before I had the trouble of tumbling all those d — d hand- kerchiefs ? " " Thought, sir, p'raps, as you was a doing of it for the sake of practice, sir." " You be ,'' responded Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, giving a sort of Calcraft tug to the ends of the black kerchief, which had finally superseded all the others. "If hit's all the same to you, sir, Fd rather be ex'-cused," said Clarke, with the most deferential respect; adding to himself, as he went into the next room for a pair of boots — " Not that 1 have any himmediate hintention of leaving your service for all that, old boy.'' Lehocq had rather exceeded his warrant in making these boots as narroAv, and the heels as high as possible, so that the clever man had ■ One struggle more," Ere he was ' free ! ' and could get " Back to busy life again 254 > BEHIND THE SCEIsES. which, of coui-se, in all civilized countries begins with breatfast,- And profuse and rechercM as Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' breakfasts were, including his favourite grill of devilled livers, which he pronounced to be infinitely better than their martyred brethren of Strasburg, consolidated mio foie gras — this particular break- fast had not sufficient attraction to lure him into discussing it; for he missed the incitements, the whip and spur, as it were, of his morning meerschaum, and his daily dram of a claret glass^ ful of raw brandy ; for which he found the large draught of hock and seltzer water, which he now swallowed, but a pool- substitute. In vain, too, Clarke, in humble imitation of ^lius Verus,^' tried to tempt him with an equally elaborate gastrono- mic mosaic : fish delighted him not, nor fowl either. So, lei- surely putting on his gloves, and taking his scrupulously brush" ed beaver from Clarke's hands, and carefully putting it on, some- what slouched over his eyes, he issued forth, bending his steps towards St. James's Street, and from thence on to Westminster. He had scarcely turned into Great Queen Street, when he caught sight of the venerable the Archdeacon Panmuir's shovel hat dis- appearing round the Abbey into one of the cloisters. Now, al- though it must be confessed, that ever since he emerged from the Albany his sole had felt tighter than his heart, yet, neverthe- less, this absence of the ponipous, fussy, and always mal-d-pro- pos Samuel Panmuir, from his own house, upon this particular morning, was a great relief to the clever man. " So far, so well," said he, " there is one bore out of the way^ at all events ; and as for the old woman, bah ! old women ai-e one of the great facts (for every bore is a fact) in which I don't believe, my creed in all things being to believe only what suits me." r * In the gormandizing days of the Caesars and the Galbas, -^Elius Verus invented a Macedoine called the pentapharnaacum, composed of the flanks of swine, wild boars' brains, parrots' tongues, pheasants', peacocks' and nightingales' livers, and with the exception of the ex- pense, a poor thing it must have been after all. JtJEH'IlSiD THE SCENES. 25^>' JBJditli had passed a restless and uncomfortable night. She eould not doubt for what purjDose Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars had requested an interview with her ; and all in rejoicing that he had not thought fit to do so four or five months sooner, she yet unsuspectedly and unacknowledged to herself in a manner re- seuted his having angled with her so long ; as he had never at- tempted to conceal his unqualified admiration for her, which she, in her own guilelessness, had thought was synonymous with love. But she now rejoiced that he had not sooner made any exphcit declaration of it ; for as we have before stated, not only had he interested her imagination by his talents, and unques- tionable intellectual superiority over those with whom she lived ; but he had, or rather she thought he bad^ as poor Donald's friend, excited in her a warmer interest; and under the delu- sion of mistaking this foreshadowing of affection for its reality, she might have accepted him from her love for her dead bro- ther, coupled with that deep yearning which all pure and gener- ous natures feel towards the worship of that pre-conceived- Om* nipotence, which is at once to fill the void of their existence and to consecrate the great temple of their heart. But since she had known Harold Lancaster the scales had fallen from her mental vision, and she became aware that, however great the Diana of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' intellectual Ephesus might be, it was far, very far from being even the unknow^n, much less the true di- vinity of whom her spirit was in search. And even had Mr. Lan- caster inspired her with no deeper feeling than one of ordinary and passing liking, still his rival had contrived to appear so be- set with all the darker and more odious passions, whenever she had seen them together, that he had full}^ endorsed Alciphron Murray's bad opinion of him, and had sealed and signed his own condemnation more than his worst enemy could have done — if, indeed, bad men can possess a worse enemy than themselves ? Yet, as Edith always shrank from giving pain — were the object worthy or unworthy — she was nervously anxious to have this meeting over ; like a patient dreading the commencement, yet longing for the termination of some critical and painful opera- SSO BEtilNb TilE scenej?, tion. But, for the racked spirit of a Christian, JPrayer is tlie chlorofojm which the Great Physician — the healer and biuder- lip of all wounds — has provided. Compassed as we are on all sides by the billows of our own conflicting passions, the tempest of adverse circumstances and overwhelming temptations, the sunken rocks of sin, the unsuspected under-currents of treachery, ever periling our frail bark on life's stormy sea ; while the stoutest sails of our strongest resolutions are shattered by gales from all quarters of bitter disappointments, perplexing caresj prostrated strength, debilitated faculties, gnawing pain, heart- breaking bereavements, our whole crew of good intentions and virtuous aspirations disabled from gloomy doubts, and inefFect- Ual struggles with undeveloped agonies, whose echoes are curses and whose shadows are fears ! — whither, indeed, can we take refuge hut in Prayer ? — that blessed, free port of Heaven which we never enter, whatsoever may be the burden of our tempest- tossed vessel, without our souls being cheered by the Saviour's ever-i-enewed assurance — "IT IS I, BE KOT afraid;' And after such a divine injunction, shall we presume to contend with the storm ? when He is there to control it ! Edith^ at all events, felt that she would not ; and having unburdened her heart, and committed her care " to Him who careth for us," the storm of pei-plexity and anxiety had been rebuked within her, and she rose up at " peace," and " still ; " assured that what- ever conflict she might be called upon to engage in, Heaven would, with the danger, make also a way of escape. Wretched as it is, humanly speaking, to have no earthly guide or counsel- lor, for, verily, there is no desolation like it, still, in a spiritual point of view, this seeming bereavement is in reality a blessed and incalculable privilege ; for then, like Enoch, we feel that God walks with us. To Him, for fear of falling, we must com- mit our ways ; and truly in such fear, " there is great wisdom ; " for it keeps our ultimate goal ever in view, making Christ at once our stafl", our standard, and our refuge, instead of the world. BEHIND THE SCENES. 2o * with its foolish wisdom I its crooked rectitude! and \i& false weights and measures. An Eastern traveller^- has described Mount Ararat as being divided into three regions of different breadths. The first of which is covered with short and sHppery grass, and sand, as troublesome as the quicksands of Africa ; the second is occupied by tigers and crow^; and the remainder, which is half the mountain, is overlaid with snow, which has been accumulating ever since the Ark rested upon it ; and these snows are concealed during one half the year in very dense clouds. But one of the chief features of this mountain, is the great gulf which extends nearly half way down it ; while across this gulf hangs a cliff, over which a single false step may hurl the traveller into the unfathomable abyss beneath, wherein de- tached pieces of ice are always rolling with the stunning noise of the loudest thunder. Is not this an exact epitome of the world, and the three stages of human life by which we pass through it ? As children, we encounter the first and compara- tively trifiiing, short, slippery grass of embiyo passions, and con- tinually-recurring restrictions, which impede our first steps ; with the sands of wasted hours ever returning to reproach and irri- tate us, by preventing our clearly seeing the path before us, Avhen we would gladly progress and no longer loiter by the way. Next, as adults, we arrive at the second division of what may be emphatically called the world, peopled, indeed, with innumerable dangers, in the shape of ferocious animals and birds of prey, ever ready to pounce upon our experience, an-d to immolate it, and us, to their own necessities or well-being. And lastly, comes the chilling division of age ; wherein we are surrounded by the hardening snows of extinct passions, and where all the much loved, though it may be also the much fibused PAST is irrevocably shut out from us by the dense un- fathomable clouds of sin, sorrow, and death. Whil ' every weary step that we have taken in attaining this point has been * Sir R. K. Porter. 258 BEHIND THE SCENES. marked by tlie loosening and detachment of some spot of earth on which we rested ! and to which we vainly clung, they being hurled before us into the eternal gulf beneath ! sending to some, in the stupendous groans of their dissolution, a timely warning ; and to others, nothing! but the hollow, cold agony of a too late remorse. Oh ! would it not then be better from the first, to look above and beyond all these slippery paths of danger and of disappointment; to the safe summit, upon which the Ark of God's everlasting covenant still rests as really^ though not as visibly, as it did upon the Ararat of old ? At least, happily for Edith, she thought so ; and therefore she now waited, with calm resignation, for the man whose fet- ters she had shaken from her mind, but whose influence over her still, was the creating of that sort of cataleptic powerless- ness which serpents are said to exercise over their victims, and which for want of a better definition we have misnamed, " fas- cination." Mrs. Dunbar had gone to Christy's — for like most very old ladies who cannot long want anything, and are there- fore apt to fancy that they want everything, she was much ad- dicted to auctions, and all other marts of modern merchandise. The Archdeacon, as we have seen, had gone down to the Abbey ; for as one of its prebends, he thought it only right that it should appear to require his presence, Avhether it did or not ; and as Edith had given no orders, pro or con, about being visible, she knew Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars would be sure to be admitted. And now to return to that personage ; he had no sooner entered St. James's Park by Storey's gate, than at the very beginning of the mall (of which the large bay windows of Archdeacon Panmuir's house commanded a full view) than he began to regulate his look, walk, and whole deportment. His ideas of love — (we beg pardon for the profanation of the name) — at least his ideas of succeeding with women, were most bel- licose ; for, as in war, he thought that everything depended upon stratagem and tactics, so in love making he opined that every move should be caculated. Such hard tasks does the BEHIND THE SCENES. 259 hired Professor Art set his pupils in that particular class of human knowledge; whereas their indulgent Alma Mater Xature teaches them all its rudiments with a look, and bribes them to the solution of its hardest problems wnth the sweets of intuition. But poor Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars w^as an individual, and a universal orphan ; for having lost his parents while yet young, and quarrelled with his guardian Nature, from his first onset in life, she had ended by disinheriting him ; so that there Avas no intercourse between them. It w^as upon this system of calculation, that he had decided upon walking upon this identi- cal morning, in preference to any other mode of conveyance ; for walking, as Mademoiselle Anatole, a fair friend of his, and a charming Coryphee, had told him, if it cannot always give a colour, it at least always makes the complexion clearer, and perhaps he had sufficient self-knowledge to feel that he required a little clearing, if not a great deal I For the last ten minutes he had been sorely perplexed in his deliberations, as to whether he should, in accosting Edith, adopt the reproachful, the tender, the desperate, or the despairing lover tone ; but terminated this debate with an " Oh — ! d n it ! one can never tell beforehand what one w^ill or will not do. On these occasions everything must grow out of, and depend upon, circumstances ; and all pre-concerted speeches and hues of conduct are found, like those things which one's servant is sure to pack up so carefully in travelling — not wanted, while what is, is never forthcoming." And with this truism, the clever man anived at Samuel Panmuir's door, where he gave one quick, impatient, yet tremu- lous ring ; for it was one of his theories always to study eflfect for the unseen eyes and ears that might be evidencing his pro- ceedings ; which he had condensed into an aphorism, upon a former occasion, when having remonstrated with Mr. Ctesar Coakington upon the muffism of walking down St. James's Street, on a gusty day in September, in a rough, and somewhat shabby, pilot coat. A proceeding which that gentleman had defended, by saying — 260 BEHIND THE SCENES. " Pooh ! my dear fellow, there is nobody in town now." To which the clever man replied, — " Pardon me, my dear Coakington, but your reason is as shallow as an Italian river in July; for be assured, that all places, that is, all theroughfares, are at all times crowded with invisible lookers on and listeners, as wherever there are houses, there are sure to be both." For in the orthodox and systematic charlatanism of his highly cultivated intellectual, and totally neglected moral educa- tion, there was no theorem of life, no psychological phase of ideality, no chemical, no mechanical, electrical, or mathematical bubble, which possessed sufficient semblance of truth to give currency to their ephemeral reigns — whose phenomena he had not deeply studied, and whose component, or conflicting particles he had not carefully analysed. Nay ; even to those cabalistic miasmas which occasionally exhale from Nature's more occult laboratories to the surface of our social system, to confound our reason, and to mystify our faith ; — he had attempted to pene- trate into their arcana, but never beyond, into their cana. Content, in his ceaseless excavations of Nature's hidden treasures to clear away the errors of former ages, that psycho-geological rubbish of time, and flood them with the light of this world, without ever looking " Through Xature up to Nature's God ! " Having rang, he put up his right hand to his right whisker — not so much to test the skill of Clarke's morning's work, as in some sort to dishevel that chef cPoeuvre. " Now for it ! " thought he, terminating with a caress to his chin; to borrow the celebrated saying of Bossuet, upon one of his contemporary's apostacy — " ' Dictate to me as unto Job. Verba dolore plena ! ' " Adding aloud, as Railton opened the door — " Is the Archdeacon within ? " " No sir, he is not ; he's been gone out about a quarter of an hour." BEHIND THE SCENES. 261 " Oh, indeed ! Then is Mrs. Dunbar at home ? " " Mrs. Dunbar is out, too, sir ; for the carriage was ordered at twelve." " Miss Panmuir out, too ? " " Well — no, sir. I rather think Miss Panmuir is in ; at least she did not go out with Mrs. Dunbar. " Jefferson, is Miss Panmuir at home ? " said he, calling to a footman who was carrying down a tray of day-before flowers, which had just been replaced by fresh ones. "Yes; Miss Panmuir is in the drawing-room." " Oh, Miss Panmuir is in, sir. Will you please to w^cilk up stairs, sir ? " And, preceded by Railton, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars leisurely traversed the hall, and ascended to the drawing-room. " Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars," announced Railton, opening wide the door. But, as a servant's absence never was yet more especially desired, but what, of course, a newspaper required to be put straight, a bhnd to be arranged, or the fire to be stirred, Railton now found it necessary to follow the clever man into the room, to perform the two former of these httle supererogatory ^vorks, to Edith's o-reat relief, and to her visitor's infinite annovance. " A charming day, is it not ? " said she, in the most per- fectly unembarrassed tone, after having shaken hands with him. While Railton w^as first drawing up, and then drawing par- tially down, one of the blinds, so as to make the purple and gold splendours of an Indian pheasant's tail find its proper level; which, from the blind having been somewhat awry, had ap- peared to rise majestically above the bird's head, as if it had been a dowager dressed for court. " Charming ! indeed, too charming," echoed Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, plunging such an admiring and undaunted gaze into the very deepest recesses of the pupils of Edith's eyes, that her cheeks, from the soft, delicate, maiden blush tint that they had been, became like two deep-dyed damask roses. The clever man cast a furtive glance at Railton and the 262 BEHIND THE SCENES. pheasant, and thought (though no sportsman) that he could have bagged ten brace of real ones at a hattu in half the time that Samuel Panmuir's fat butler had been wrestling with that illuminated effigy. At length, Railton had not only "Adorned the ^a?7," but also "Pointed a moral," by turning down a scandalous trial, in a morning paper, and showing up the leading article. But as it is never safe to risk any sort of encounter with the press, but after a Parthian fash- ion, immediately following this latter proceeding, he wisely effected his retreat. No sooner had the door closed upon Railton, than Mr. Pon- sonby Ferrars had flung himself at Edith's feet, and seizing both her hands, which he covered with kisses, and held so tightly within his grasp that she in vain endeavoured to withdraw them. But never had he (to borrow one of his own scientific terms) made " a falser move ; " for indignation at such an unprefaced and unauthorized proceeding gave to the timid girl, who other- wise might not have had the nerve to inflict the slightest pain, the courage of a lion, and the resolution of a stoic. " I beg, sir," said she haughtily, " that you will instantly rise and release my hands. Nothing ever has passed, or ever can 2MSS, between us " (and she emphasized the last words), " to authorize your oSering me such an afi'ront ; for in no other Hght can I consider your present conduct." " Hoiking ! has ever passed between us ! " repeated he, sud- denly dropping her hands, starting to his feet, and grasping his own hair hke a madman. " Good heavens, Edith ! I beg your pardon. Miss Panmuir ; and do you, can you call the hoarded, burning, maddening, all-absorbing love, the wild, idolatrous, and exclusive devotion of four long years, nothing ? You^ who have been at once the impetus and goal of all my labours, the Polar star towards which I steered through every storm ! You, BEHIND THE SCENES. 263 the varied, yet harmoniously blent fascinations of ^Yhose beauty — a beauty which knows neither an equal nor a fault — who have been above my every" earth-born cloud and sorrow, the rainbow tints that spanned the arch of Hope's bright distant heaven ! You, who have been to me the giver of light and life, the sun of my system, expanding and fructifying in me the germs of a latent intelligence ! For, till I knew you, I had no ambition ; mine was the mere low, aimless, grovelling instincts of reptile life ! Your smile it was that gave to my spirit the first chrysalis intimation of its wings ; for then it was I felt how high it must soar before it could attain, or at least before it could aspire to, such perfection ! If toil and study have anti- cipated the work of time, and brushed youth's gloss and bloom more even from my heart, than from my cheek, do not suppose that I made this sacrifice to the opinions, or for the ovations, of men ; for never would I have cared to hear my name repeated by the trumpet-tongued voice of Fame, but that it might be echoed by the mass ; and that those echoes might be to you so many memories of, and messengers from me. Fool ! fool ! that I was ; since it seems that, while you were my all, my past, my present, and my future ! / was nothing, absolutely nothing, not even a passing thought in your existence. And yet I had fan- cied — nay more, 1 had /lo/jcc? — and hope, in love's fanaticism, is the happiest part of certainty — its anticipation. Yes, I had hoped, from the flattering opinion you expressed of my books, and from the interest you appeared to take in their success, that their author had not been so totally indifferent to you." These last w^ords were uttered in a broken and scarcely articulate voice ; and at their conclusion Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars covered his face with his hands, and sank down upon a Napo- leon causeuse, leaning his head despairingly against the arm of it. "While poor Edith, who had no suspicion that such passion- ate protestations could be nothing more than practised per- juries, began to fear, though scarcely to feel, that she had done this man a grievous wrong, and had been, though very uninten- 264 BEHIND THE SCENES. tionally, tlie cause of the liiiman wreck before her ; for at that moment, such was the role, that he looked to perfection. So seating herself upon the other si'de of the causeuse, and not sorry for the well-stuffed barrier that serpentined between them, she said, in so gentle and contrite a voice, that it would but have increased his anguish had it been real, and not savoured infinitely more of resentment than regret — " I do assure you, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, that no one can be a greater admirer of your works than I am, or take a greater interest in their well-merited success ; and I have not only been most grateful, but much flattered, by your very kind attention^ in always affording me an opportunity (insignificant and little worth as my judgment is) of taking the initiative in the sentence which popularity has awarded them. But, as I never had the vanity to suppose that you cherished for me, individually, any deeper sentiment, as you never till to-day gave me any intima- tion of such being the case, you will, I hope, acquit me of either having encouraged, or trifled with, a feehng which, however I may be, and am, grateful to you for entertaining towards me, I ignored till now, and which I now frankly tell you I cannot reciprocate." " No, I never before bared my heart to you," he ex- claimed, suddenly uncovering, and turning his face towards her, which was actually livid, swollen, and distorted with suppressed rage — " because I felt that I had no right to ask you, for whose overwhelming beauty nature appeared to have ordained a dia- dem as a dower, to share the uphill struggle of a poor man. I felt that I ought at least achieve a position, where as upon a befitting altar, I might place the love which I presumed to offer you ; or my aunt's death, an event likely to occur from one month to another, might, in a pecuniary point of view, have enabled me to break a silence which was to me the realization of the fabled tortures of Prometheus and Tantalus combined. But this event not occurring, I was continually compelled to roll the stone back upon my heart ; till now that you begin to BEHIND THE SCENES. 265 raix in society, and that I bear of iiotliing but you, and see you surrounded by admirers who, at least, in a worldly point of view, have more pretensions to, and chance of success than I have, though in deep, deep love, and imalloyed devotion, they never can approach me within ten thousand sacrifices ! But, seeing* them with their costly chances against my poor love, I could endure it no longer ; silence became suicide, and I rushed here this morning determined to set my fate upon a cast, and end this fearful, this too unequal struggle, Edith ! without a sigh, without a pang. You have pronounced my doom ; but with my last breath I' wall bless and thank, for it is a boon to die for, and by you, rather than accept the impossible alternative of hv- ing without you," This last stroke, though as flimsy, was also as fine, as the cobweb cambric with which J^^dith now wiped her eyes. " Ha ! " thought he, " the spell works, for she already wav- ers." And with this reflection he resolved upon another coup cVctat^ and again flung himself at her feet, but this time studi- ously avoided taking or even touching her hand, by keeping his own clasped in the most imploring manner.' " Oh ! Edith," he exclaimed, " you have made me desperate : beware how you leave me so. You little know, and you cannot even imagine, in the nicely-poised equator of your own pure and palatine organization, the fearful extremes of evil that deep, passional, and wayward natures like mine are capable of; when the anchor of their last hope is weighed, and they are sent adrift without chart or compass, to buflfet with the ruthless tempest of their own ungovernable despair! Edith! Edith! mercy! It is for more than life I am pleading ; it is for my salvation. As you value your owni soul, beware and pause ere you peril mine." " I do, I have paused," sobbed Edith ; " and what a shameful, what an iniquitous return it would be in exchange for all the devo- tion you have expressed for me, to give to your pleadings nothing but the hollow consent of words. Nothing but love can requite 12 266 BEHIND THE fe'CENKS. love ; and — and I must repeat it, / do not love you. For it is bet- ter to seem unkind, than to be cruel ; and what cruelty is there like deceit, when aiFection is the trust it selects for its victim ! " " You do not love me ! " slowly repeated Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, in a hollow, extinct voice, and with a pale, wandering, haggard look, as, grapphng with the arm of the sofa for support, as if climbing a rock to save himself from a physical, instead of a figurative shipwreck, he again tottered to his feet, taking care to untie one of the long ends of his wispy black cravat, which gave the finishing touch to his appearance of utter devastation, before he tightly folded his arms, and again repeated — " You do not love me 1 But oh ! Edith, you have not said that you cannot love me ! I do not, indeed I do not, wish to wrest your love from you ; though doubtless you think I do ; from the manner in which I was hurried away this morning on first seeing you by a thousand conflicting tortures. Oh ! no, I would rather win it. Only try for a few months if you cannot love me I As Omnipotence, out of the void, willed the creation, so shall your wnll re-create me Though my mind be now a chaotic pandemonmm, hint but a fault, and it shall disappear. In a very few months my aunt may — nay, in the course of na- ture, she must succumb to the malady that is so rapidly under- mining her constitution. Edith, give me one hope to live upon, that you will then be mine ; at least that till then, you will not listen to any other ? " " No," said Edith firmly ; " even if I loved you I would not give you any conditional promise of uniting my fate with yours, at your aunt's death ; whom I have always heard, has been a most kind and hberal relative to you ; for I think no blessing could attend a marriage, where death was waited for to deck the altar." " There, there, enough ! " almost shrieked he, stopping his ears as if a whole park of artillery had suddenly been discharged in them. " One would think that all hell had been set on, to torture me ! " BEHIND THE SCENES. 26t Edith, not at all perceiving what connection her last words could have with the terrible excitement he had manifested on hearing them, calmly added — " I thank you for delegating to me a supposititious control over your actions, and influence over your conduct ; and if you have faults (as who is there that has not ?) I hope, sincerely hope, that for your own sake, seeing them, you will try to mend them. But as far as I am concerned (besides having no faith in any woman's power over mascuhne errors) I would prefer reversing the office of censor ; for if I married, I should like to look up to my husband, and would rather that he corrected my faults, provided that he did so in love, and justice, without any admixture of temper or caprice." Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars groaned. He was fast cursing Edith in his heart, as the only woman he had ever met that "Flattery could not fool." But he also saw that the moment had arrived when he must play his last stake ; so throwing his eyes up to the ceiling, which made an excellent substitute for heaven to a man so little ac- quainted as he was with that locality, he exclaimed, clasping and wringing his hands, with a look of almost agonized solem- nity— " Mr POOR Donald ! It was your last wish, and my first hope ! — bear witness, with all the other angels ! — how it would have been the study of my life to have made hers happy, would she but have confided to me that sacred mission." At this allusion to her brother, and this solemn appeal to his now unfettered spirit, Edith's tears flowed hot, and fast — " You xoere his friend," sobbed she, putting out her hand to Ferrars, "and as such, I must ever be yours, but more I cannot be ; the very memory you have invoked forbids it ; for if he wished me to marry you, of course he wished me to love you. How, then, dare I ask him now to look down upon such a sac- rilege as my marrying you without would be ? " She had scarcely uttered these words, before carriage-wheels 268 BEHIND THE SCENES. were heard on the gravel beneath the window, followed by a loud ring — " You had better," said Edith, lifting it from the sofa, and holding it towards him, " put on your cravat." A feat which he performed wonderfully well for a man in so distracted a state ; saying rapidly after he had done so — " Miss Panmuir, will you at least answer me one question truly ; and without the slightest equivocation or arriere pen- see ? " — " If I answer it at all," said she, with the slightest possible inflection of hauteur in her voice, " I shall of course answer it with truth, and without that meanest of all species of falsehood , equivocation." " Tell me, then, on your honour, are you engaged to that Ml'. Lancaster ; or has he proposed for you ? " A sudden, though transient flush lit up Edith's cheek; quite as much at the term, " that Mr. Lancaster," as at the ques- tion itself. " Really, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars," said she, " you forget yourself; therefore I n;ust remind you that I am not bound to answer such questions." "Oh ! you need not; I see it all ; I could have taken my oath of it." "Then would you have perjured yourself," said she; "as I am not engaged to Mr. Lancaster, for he never proposed for " me." " For he never proposed for you ! " echoed the other, with one of his horrible yelling laughs. " Oh ! as that is the only barrier to the engagement, permit me to congratulate you ; for, depend upon it, it will soon be removed," said he, bowing down to the ground, preparatory to rushing out of the room, as he now heard Mrs. Dunbar's voice on the stairs ; and past her he would have hurried as unceremoniously as an express train, only that old ladies never will let anything pass, from an observation to an ourano'-outano-. BEHIND THE SCENES. 269 " All ! how d'ye do, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars ? " said slie, im- peding bis fligbt by laying her hand upon his arm, as he was rushing past her. " Always in a hurry ; always in a hurry ! Ah ! that's the way Avith young people. Going down to the House I suppose ? " " Yes, my dear madam," replied he, eagerly clutching at the surmise : " a railway committee, for which I am already a quarter of an hour late." " Just like me at Christy's ! — the most lovely green china monkey knocked down to Lady Mabel Maiden five minutes be- fore I arrived ; but then, poor thing, it will be a great comfort to her, she having lost her husband." ** "Would," thought Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, who kept impa- tiently biting his lips, " that this d — d monkey had served you as that sensible living monkey did Dr. Young's tragedy, and should have dealt with his ' Night Thoughts ! ' " At length the old lady, feeling a draught from the hall door, began to have great consideration for the railway committee, and said — " Well, good-day, good-day ; I won't detain you from your committee. But do get them to make the railways less dan- gerous and less noisy." " The moment your wishes are made known on the subject, depend upon it those highly necessary alterations will be made," said he, this time escaping in good earnest. He had no sooner drawn a long breath in the open air, and found himself once more in the Park, than, clenching his hands, and casting his eyes up at the window of the room in which he had left Edith, he muttered, with a look that Mephistophiles might have en- vied, but despaired of imitating — " You have rejected, but you have not escaped me ! " SECTIOl^ XI. "Eemember me, oh, ruy God, for good! " — IfeJi. xiii. 31. "Bright shines the sun — play, beggars, play; Here's scraps enough to serve to-day."' — Frank Davison. " To mortal men great loads allotted he ; But of all packs, no pack like poverty." Robert HerricKs Aphorisms. Please, marm, do give me a half-penny for playing, " Pop goes the weasel." " Drat the weasel ! and you too ! "What's the use of wea- sels popping, I should like to know, when the men have all be- come foxes, is my belief; for they never pop now — pack of lazy, howdacious, good-for-nothink, hobstroplus fellers ! " The above charitable, and uncharitable, dialogue took place over a somewhat extensive puddle leading to the pavement, in that charming locale^ Tooley Street, in the Borough, between a young gentleman with a crownless hat, sunburnt light hair, naked feet, and a sharp, keen, hungry look, as if the file of starvation was gnawing him continually ; and an immense quantity of black crape and bombasin, which had just advanced one Leander of a foot that was attempting to cross the Helles- pontic puddle aforesaid, in order to reach the Hero who had implored her charity through the medium of a very asthmatic set of pandean pipes, from which he had been endeavouring to BEHIND THE SCENES. 271 make the weasel pop, and whose shrill squeaks were indeed sufficient to have made a whole colony of weasels pop to the Antipodes. " Hand how hold are yon, pray ? " said the black crape to the pipes, as soon as she had reached terra-firma. " Joe, the ostler at the Tabard, says as I be rising ten next grass." *' Well then, hif you're ten, you're a getting a big boy, and more shame your mother don't send you to school, hinstead h of letting hon you be habout the streets \vitli them plagues of pipes, perfect nuisances I calls 'em." "I haint got no mother; she died in the Union, Joe says, the night as I was born." " And haint you got no ftither, heither ? " " No, I never had no father ; leastways Joe says as my fa- ther was a gentleman, and that's the same thing as having no father." "Hal poor little feller! gentleman, indeed! blackguards- I call 'em. But what's your name ? " "I haven't got no real name belonging to me, but they calls me Union Jack, on 'count of the Union being the only re- lation I knows anything about ; and Jack, 'cause an old sailor with two wooden legs, as used to go about the streets in a bowl, allowed me a penny a day while he hved ; but he died last win- ter." And the boy brushed a tear from his eye with his ragged sleeve. " Well, but this Joe, has you calls him, the /^ostler hat the Tabard, don't he know nothink about you ? hand haint he good to you?" " Oh, yes, Joe is very good to me ; he lets me sleep in the loft on a good bundle of hay every night, beside his own bed ; and when he brings Boxer his supper, he always takes the best bits of meat out of it for me, with any other scraps that he can get. But Joe is very poor himself, and his old father and mo- ther have got into trouble lately, something about a 'lection, and 2.^2, BEHIND THE SCENES. his father has got a bad leg and can't workj so Joe 'lows him all he can, and Joe it was bought me these pipes, that I might try and earn something for myself, for I'm afeared of osses, and can't do much about the stable beyond carrying a pail of water or so for Joe." "And how come this Joe to know you, for he seems a good sort of man ? " " Joe ! he's a regular brick ! that's his ginral character ; but the way he hnow'd me was, that he kept company with my mother, and they was to have been married — only he says when I was born that prevented it,, but that it shall never pre- vent his doing all he can for me." " Ha ! poor man ! he seems to 'ave jist sich another feelings tender art has poor dear Mr. Bousefield 'ad ! Do you think has you could clean knives, and shoes, and run o' herrands, hand such like, hif so be has you was taken hiuto a lady's, fam'ly, and given your food and lodging, I don^t say wages^ hat least till you can do somethink more to earn them. But my lady is very charitable, very good to the poor, and would do more so had she the means. — Ah ! well, that's neither here nor there ; but hif as I hears a good character hof you from this here Joe, of the Tabard, hand I was to take you, I'm sure ony lady would give you a suit of clothes." At these joyful tidings, poor Union Jack's eyes actually sparkled. He was sure he could clean knives, and shoes ; and as for errands, whenever Joe sent him of one he always said he was back before he thought he had had time to get to the place he had been sent. "Well," said Mrs. Bousefield, excavating from her profound pocket a black leather purse, with a steel elasp, and from it presenting Jack with the mimificent sum of sixpence, which he- seemed to think quite equivalent to having been to, and returned from, the Digg'ings, " Will you go hof a Kerrand for me now ?" BEHIND TilE SCENES. ♦ 2tS "Aye, that T will, marm, to tlie world's end and back," said the grateful Jack. " Hith konly to number six down that 'ere court, hup four j^'r o' staii-s, to one ^Maurice Roberts who works has a shoe- maker. Poor dear Mr. Bousefield hand I 'ave employed him for years and years, his work his so good, hand his shoes and boots, two shillings a pair cheaper than hany where lielse. Well, you just go and tell him that Mrs. Bousefield, for whom he 'ave worked for so many years, as well as for her late iisban, and might 'ave halso worked for her six dear hinfants ; — but the Almighty knows best ! that Mrs. Bousefield, you tell him, thinks hit very hodd that her two p'r o' boots, bordered more than six weeks ago, his not done yet. I'd go myself, and give it him well, but that I hear there has been a deal hof hillness about hin the Borough, hand I'm that low, hand that nervous, that hany body might knock me down wdth a feather ! " Union Jack, wbo had opened wide both his eyes, and ears, and kept them on the full strain, to take in not only the pith but all the sahent points of this oration, now exclaimed, as he "doffed his crownless hat, to scratch the back part of his head^* "Why, marm, Maurice Roberts be Joe's father; and as I told you, he have had a bad leg, through a brickbat as was "throw'd at it by one of the blues, at the last Frothington 'lec- tion ; and that's the reason, no doubt, as your boots aint done'; for it's little or no v/ork he's been able to do since." "Ah! those 'orrid 'lections!" said Mrs. Bousefield — "not but what in our way of business, they had used to be very good things, but now, I'm sure I can't see no use in 'lections and parliaments, hunless it is to make lawrs to purtect the devil, ■ and keep him uppermost in all things. Well, you tell Roberts I'm sorry for his haccident, but should be glad to ave my boots." Union Jack vanished down the court, leaving Mrs. Bouse- field in the street ; who, having " come all over in one of them dreadful heats ! " leaned against the lamp-post, and set in for 12''' 2rl4: BEHIND THE SCENES. a long reverie, upon that " light of other days ! " — " poor dea/ Mr. Bousefieid ! " in order to while away the time till her messenger rt Uirned. And she had not long resuscitated from the ashes of her 2:)hoenix-like memory, into the triune glories of Avife, mother (?), and landlady, when a somewhat unusual thing in Tooley Street, one of Baxter's unexceptionable cabriolets^ perfectly appointed, dashed round the corner, and pulled up at the curb-stone, within a hundred yards of the window. From this vehicle Harold Lancaster now alighted, and throwing the reins to the groom, walked on, looking inquii-ingly up and down' the houses, on either side ; and then taking a card case out of his pocket, he referred apparently to a written address on the back of one of them, and while he stopped to read it — "Poor dear Mr. Bousefieid, and the six dear hinfants," (which never came off!) were again consigned to the "silent tomb." " Well, thafs my liighdears of a 'andsome man," solilo- quized Mrs. Bousefieid, as she hastily cleared tlie ^'' first heaV from her face, w^ith the large pocket handkerchief, and then half lowering the black crape drop-scene, put herself in battle arrayo "Perhaps," said he, advancing towards her, and taking off his hat with as much respectful courtesy as if she had been a, duchess, " you can have the goodness to tell me wheieabout in this street a man of the name of Maurice Eoberts lives, who works as a shoemaker, not in a shop but in some private house. My direction says, ]^o. 6, but I don't see any J^o. G." " I shall be most proud and 'appy, sir, to show you the way," responded Mrs. Bousefieid, with her best Fox and Fiddle curtsey. " He w^as a man, was Roberts, as was once exceeding well to do in the world ; hand 'ave worked for me hand my late 'usban, poor Mr. Bousefieid, for a many years." (Here the pocket handkerchief was again ordered on active service, and had a skirmish with the corners of her eyes.) " But hevry one 'as their hups hand downs bin this world, hand none hof us knows the bins and bouts hof 'em but them has 'as to go thn -uo-h ^eMind the scenes. 2ls fem. Hit his down this here court, sir, hand hup four pair of stairs, sir, — I should say by no means a place befitting for a gentleman, has is a gentleman like yourself to go to ; — but hif you ^Yill allow me, who his honly a servant, though once in a very large way hof business, has a married ooman, I shall he very 'appy to take hany message for you to Roberts, sir." " Thank you,- — I'm extremely obliged to you ; but it is a commission with which I have been entrusted, and therefore I must execute it myself. But as you have been good enough to tell me wdiere I am to go, I don't see why I should encroach further on your time, by giving you the trouble of accompany- ing me," concluded he, with another bow, quite as graceful and as well-bred as his former one ; but this time intended for a farewell salutation; Alas ! how little ai'e philosophers any more than fish able to calculate their chances of escape ; and what a captured salmon or greyling is in the way of utter helplessness against the not-to- be avoided destruction of Walton's mystical receipt of ivy juice. — so was any ill-fated mortal of the male sex, once hooked by Mrs. Bousefield ! " Ho 1 dear sir, I could not think of letting hon you find your way alone, hup them 'orrid dark stairs — the dingiest, screakingest things has hever was. I bought to know some- thing hof the dismals, 'aving buried a good 'usband and six dear hinfants ; but in burj^ing a iusband ! there is that peace which the world cannot give, hand life hever-Iasting to look to, — -wherchof going up them stairs of Maurice Roberts there haint nothing to look to hexcept breaking hon one's neck." " An additional reason," said Lancaster with a smile, " why I should not risk yours as well as my own." But seeing that Mrs. Bousefield's resolves were like the de-' crees of fate, irrevocable ! he, with true good-breeding — that adaptive courtesy which descends to inferiors, quite as scrupu- loushj, as it ascends to superiors, or equals, slackened his own S?6 i3EHIND THE SdENESi SO as to fall in with ber loitering, gossipping pace, as she led thd way down the court where Roberts lived. In truth she bad not exaggerated, either the obscurity or the insecurity of the miserable stairs leading to the poor shoemaker's garret ; for in an inverse ratio, as much as golden wealth pin- ioned through luxury, and refinement, pampers the senses of its votaries, so does the witch Poverty punish those of her vic- tims, through privation and all the offal of existence 1 " It his deplorable dark, to be sure,'' murmured Mrs. Bouse- field, elevating her becraped petticoats full three inches higher, as she stopped, ostensibly to take breath, at the first landings where the daylight w^as in pursuit of an entrance imder difficul- ties, through a window, whose panes had lost their original transparency and become opaque with the unmolested smoke and dirt of years, but through which a faint ray still struggled, sufficient, the widow thought, for " any man as had the use of his hyes " to see what ^'' poor dear Mrs. Bousefield used to call an unco'nimon neat foot and hancle ; hand sutenly ''aving lived with the Dowager Countess of Coddlecat for so many years^ he ought to know whaCs what I " But Mr. Lancaster apparently did not, doubtless from not having the same advantages ; for, on turning suddenly round, he beheld his looks sent on like avant couriers, — to the next landing with a slight expression of impatience, as if but for the impeding mass of weeds befc»*e him, his feet would also have franchised that additional space. But out of the dark crucible of adverse circumstances, the pure ore of good is ever beino- wrought ; and oh ! Bousefield ! notwithstanding that thou hadst lived and died under the aggravated patronymic of Jede- DiAH ! — still, all things in nature and in art were ever conspir- ing to offer fresh ovations to thy manes, for all things made the memory of thy disconsolate widow " More fondly turn to thee," and eren on the present occasion, she observed to herself with BEHIND THE SCENES. 277 a sigh, as she reached the second landing, and lowered the stan- dards of woe, the three inches she had before raised them — " Ha ! hit may be all very well has far has happearances and hoiitward show goes ; but hin real judgment hand taste, and knowing what his due to a 'ooraan, hin the way hof hat- tention — the whole lot on 'em put together, haint worth one hof the hairs of poor dear Mr. Bousefield's whiskers — / know ! '^ And thus Bousefield, like " Beauty," drew her " With a sinjrle hair ! " When they had at length arrived at the eaves of .this mise- rable house, Lancaster remembeiing that Mrs. Bousefield had informed him that she " was only a servant," placed a sovereign in her hand, as he turned round to thank and to apologize to her for the trouble he had given her. " Oh, dear sir ! — don't mention it ; the trouble's a pleasure^ I'm sure ; hand has for this " — looking at, without however at- tempting to return, the money, — for next to gallantry, Mrs. Bousefield considered that gold was the truest test of a gentle- man — " there haint the slightest occasion for nothink of the sort. Allow me, sir," added she, advancing a step or two in or- der to fling open the door ; but he prevented her, saying — " Stop ; we had better knock first." Having done so, a low growl, and then a deep-toned barkj responded to the appeal. " Down, Eos, — down, sir," said a voice from the room, after which it added — " Come in ! " This room at its highest point was very low, but in one half of it it was impossible for even a moderate-vsized person to stand upright, on account of the slanting projection of the roof. Out- side a flock bed, covered with a patchwork quilt, and placed against the window for the benefit of the light, lay Maurice Ro- berts, a dark, sallow man of about five-and-fifty, Avith thin, par- tially grey hair, and dark eyes that might have been bright had they not been so deeply simken in his head. Despite the bad ^^8 BEtilND TilB SCENES. leg which was evidently the cause of his reclining position, he had on his leather apron, and was at work on a pair of pru- nella boots, which were doubtless Mrs. Bousefield's. At the foot of the bed stood Union Jack, who had just delivered her message ; and who, not to stand Avith his hands before him, had seized upon a strip of leather which he was busily perfora- ting with an awl, while beside the bed sat Alciphron Murray, who had been attentively listening to a long history of the cause of his misfortunes, which Roberts had been narrating to him ; while at his feet Eos lay stretched at full length, his fore paws forming two ramparts for his nose. In the centre of the room, midway between the projecting beam of the ceiling and tbe bedstead, was Margaret Roberts, — Maurice's wife, — a had- been pretty woman, with no remains of good looks, beyond ra- ther delicate features, very pale and much wrinkled cheeks, and eyes that looked as if they had cried all their colour out of them. Her figure, as is generally the case in persons of her class, was the worst part of her ; for, although thin to attenua- tion, she had one of those enormously thick, flat waists which only common women manage to achieve, and its shortness of course added to its circumference. Nevertheless, her dress (con- sisting of a blue-and-white cotton gown, and a check apron) was scrupulously clean, with the exception of an old gi-devant black velvet bonnet, now of a fuzzy browai, as if turning into moss, perched on the top of her head, and of that cross-breed shape, between a spout and a coalscuttle, peculiar to charwo- men. In this couvre-chef, more substantial than elegant, Mar- garet Roberts was now bending over a consumptive fire in the narrow, rusty grate, and peering occasionally into a tin sauce-^ pan, to superintend the progress of a preparation that M. Soyer would not exactly have denominated puree aux — pommes de terre, although a portion of that vegetable entered into its com- position ; the /o?irZ of which consisted in a couple of handfuls of oatmeal, in about a quart of w^ater, to which she every now and then added, from a wooden bowl beside her, as many handful? ££HIND THE SCENES. 'iW of raw potato pavings : while all the attention she could spare from her ciilin^iry occupation she divided equally between a clean calico shirt, that was hanging to air over a velveteen jacket on a low wooden nursing chair, and a pepper-and-salt worsted stocking she was knitting. Save the bed, three chairs, and a largish sized deal table, other furniture the garret had none, with the exception of a large, old, plain, smooth oak box, more like those used for flour bins in country cottages: and above which was a deal shelf, containing four delf plates, two blue mugs, a cracked teacup and saucer, two knives and steel- pronged forks, two iron spoons, a blue teapot — the cover tied pn with a piece of twine, — and a tin match-box, forming a can- dlestick, into which was stuck about four inches of rush-light. While over the mantelpiece was one flat-iron, a small Italian iron, a kettle-holder made of brown stuft", and a large, square, and very plethoric-looking pincushion, the only well-fed looking thing in the place, for all the world like a green baize and bran model of an alderman^ who had been made a Poor Law Com- missioner. Mrs. Bousefield had originally intended protectiog Mr. Lan - caster through his interview with the Roberts's, but no sooner had she caught sight of Murray, than " coming all over in one of them terrible heats f^'' and at the same time feeling a ten- dency to that pecTiliar species of feathery epilepsy to which she was so subject, she rushed down the stairs, to use her own ex- pression, " like a cat from a larder — with the cook after it," — ■ and made the best of her way to " The Tabard," to enquire into Union Jack's antecedents, and recruit her spirits with a glass of port wine, which w\as what '• poor dear Mr. Bousefield, wdio w^as a man has understood what females required, always used to prescribe for any of her complaints, whether mental or physical. But though she was that weak, and that loiv, that she did not know how to bear herself, she inust say she should like to know what could take a gentleman of that appearance and manncF 280 BEiiiND THE SCENES. to the Roberts's. For thoiigli ladies was hexceedingly charita- ble sometimes, sending their maids, hand heven going their- selves to such places ; gentlemen was quite different, consider- ing that hi/ they gave their money that was quite enough, has indeed she thought it was, without poking hinto such low-lived places. However, she must come hinto Southwark the next day to see hafter that hare charity boy, has she 'ad promised to do for him ; hand her name was not Sushanner Bousefield hif she did not find it all out." Leaving Mrs. Bousefield to pursue her way to "' The Ta- bard " alone (for as she used to say to " poor dear Mr. Bouse- field " upon the rare occasions that she did take a glass of port wine, she '• hated people to be following kon, hand looking hat her "), we will return to Harold Lancaster. As soon as he had followed the permission to enter, Murray and he, having ex- changed salutations, though strangers to each other, and Eos, with that fine tact which all dogs possess for detecting and ap- preciating those of gentle birth, having sniffed round his boots, and given him an amicable wag of the tail, he drew a letter from his pocket, Margaret Roberts suspending her avocations the while, and curtseying down to the ground ; while her hus- band pulled the front lock of his hair ; both of which saluta^ tions the new arrival separately returned. " You'll ea;-cuse my rising, sir," said Roberts ; " but I'm troubled with a bad leg." " Pray, don't stir on any account," rejoined Lancaster, see- ing that he made an effort to advance more to the edge of the bed, " I have merely called at the request of the Duchess of Lidd^sdale, who received a letter by the post last night from a person signing himself "Joe Roberts, ostler, at The Tabard, Southwark," about a young pei*son of the name of Fanny Par- ker, who once lived as under housemaid in the Duchess's ser- vice. " Yes, sir," said Roberts, adding with a slight push to en- foTce his commands, " There, he off", -Jack, and tell Mrs. Bouse- BEHIND THE SCENES. 281 iield, that, if possible, she shall have one pair of her boots next Aveet." Jack vanished, mucli against his will ; for since the entrance of that gentleman, he had stood contemplating Mr. Lancaster much with the same breathless wonder and admira- tion with which for the first time after having climbed to the Belvedere one beholds the Apollo I Seeing that he had produced a letter, and was about to read it, Murray also rose, and prepared to depart ; merely saying as he gave Roberts a good-sized but plainly-bound Bible, — " I don't think you need alarm yourself about that gentle- man's threats ; for his own sake, he will hardly like to stir about the matter. But study this book well — you will find in it all you want, and better counsel, and more comfort than I can give you. Trust to God's ^Vord, and you need not fear any man's perjury. Take care of youreelf ; I'll look in upon you again next week ; and Mrs. Roberts be sure to get the things I have written down for his leg ; and let him have a little old tent wine." " All I sir, it's easy talking ! " said Margaret Roberts, shak- ing her head, and dropping another curtsey, as Murray, with a parting bow to Mr. Lancaster, followed by Eos, left the room. " Here, wife," said Roberts, " take care of this here Bible, I'd like to read it oftener, well enough ; only I've no time like by day, and can't afford light o' nights." " No," said she, " it's like ordering of you wine and such like. I should like to know w^here poor people is to get such things — God help us 1 " And as she took the sacred volume from her husband's hand, a small folded paper fell at her feet. " You have dropped something," said Lancaster, stooping to pick it up, and giving it to her. She was some time before, her horny fingers could master its flimsy texture sufficiently to open it; when she did so, it turned out to be a £0 note. " You see God has helped you, my good woman," said Lan- caster ! " and though he may not always do so in this sort of instantaneous and unexpected manner, depend upon it, those 282 BEHIND THE SCENES. who appeal to Him with constancy and sincerity never do so in vain." " He has indeed helped us ! " cried Margaret Roberts, clasp- ing her hands, and falling upon her knees, as the tears coursed each other down her withered cheeks ; — " and, oh ! may He also bless that good, kind gentleman whom He has sent to us in our hour of need." " Amen," responded Lancaster. " And now I will read you this letter which brought me here this morning, and you may be able to give me some further particulars respecting the affair." " Aye, sure, sir," said Roberts, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve ; " but I be most ashamed to ax a gentleman like you to sit down in such a poor place as ourn." Whereupon Margaret flew across the room for the best — that is the least torn — rush-bottomed chair ; and after having carefully flipped and dusted it with her apron, was about to bring it over to " the sU'ange gentleman^'' which he prevented, by going for it himself, in order to save her the trouble ; and seating himself upon it, he read out JOE THE ostler's LETTER TO THE DUCHESS OF LIDDESDALE. " May it pleese yr grase — "Who in course knows nothing of me, but i knowing of a long time as your grase is a good and charitable lady, whose charity is greater than yr rank, and thinks more of being a Christian w^oraau than a great lady, i makes bold — tho' far from being able, to groom a pen as i can a oss, to interseed with yr grase, for a poor hunfortinet little critter, the son of poor Fanny Parker, who as your grases ousekeeper, Mrs. Melvil, can tell you, once lived as under ousemaid with your grase, and was as good a girl as ever was, till the devil got hold of her, calling his self a gentleman, one Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars, now a Parliament man, and wat they calls one of the rulers of the BEHIND THE SCENES. 283 nasbun. Poor Fanny then went to the bad entirely ; but she was soon sarvecl out for it — for wen this fine gent got her into trouble he deserted her, and she had to go to the Union, where her sin and sorrow ended in a sun, who is now on the wide world a starving, i tried to keep life and sole in un as long as i could ; but this Ferrars, who seems to have been born for the cuss of the poor, got my poor old father into trouble with Hes and fals promises at his last Lection, which have throwd him out of work, so i be blijed to low him the little i can. All the paticklers of which lection business yr grase can learn by sending some one to No. G, — Court, Tooley St. Borough, to see that i aint a telling on you no lies, like them ere begging- letter posters, as is continually a being tooket up in the noose- papers. And so not being able any longer to do anything for poor Jack, Fanny Parker's horphin, who in course is not spon- sible for his father and mother's misdeeds, i come to implore your grases charity and compassion for him ; but seeing as poor Fanny's misfortin can't have no claim upon your grase, but quite tother way, i must inform your grase, that afore i cum a troub- hn on you, I plied to the proper quarter, I mean to Mr. Pon- sonby Ferrars rich ole ant. Lady Mammonton, as ad the bring- ing on him up, and encouraging him on in all his wickedness ; but lor! it was like trying to put pity into the stone walls o' Newo-ate. She did nothink but hold with her nevev and abuce poor Fanny, calling on her all sorts o' ugly names, saying that poor Henry, as she called her nevey, was only a boy of nineteen, and that Fanny was twenty, so that it must have been all her fault ; and begged she might hear no more of her and her work- house brat. At this my blood began a biling, so i ups and i tells her for all she was so rich, her money would do her no good, as she could not take it back to the devil with her ; and for all she thought herself such a great lady, she was far uglier and a deal more wishus than the Pottimus at the Zoologican Gar- dens, to leave her grand nevey (for sich Jack is by the laws of natur, in spite of all the hacts of parleyment) to die of starva- 284 BEHIND THE SCENES. tiou. At this she ^yas in sicli a fury, that she ordered two of her great powdered baboons of footmen to turn me out of the ouse ; but when they attempted to lay a hand ujDon me, though i hadn't got my pitchfork with me, i soon pitched into them, and scattered 'em right and left iihe a litter. It is for this rea- son — cause there aint no good to be got out of those Ferrars's, who is a bad lot, seed, breed, and generation — that I have made bold to hintrude upon your grase, knowing wat a deal your grase has already lent to the Lord, for, as the Bible says, 'Who giveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord.' i do ope your grase will lend him a little more (for better security there can't be), by doing summut for this poor little destitute Jack ; either by getting of him into some charitable hinstitooshun, which, at all events, is a decent and spectable sort of starvation, or doing any- think else for him that yr grases goodness may see fit. And if so be as your grase is not oflfended at my aving made so bold as to have sent you this letter, and is condescending enough to take any notice of it, you will be pleased to send your messen- ger to No. 6 Court, Tooley Street, Borrough, which is where my Father and Mother liv^es, as i should not like the peo- ple at the Tabard to know anythink about poor Jack's con- cerns, " And now I remain untill death, with every respec, your grases most obedient and most humbel servant, "JOE ROBERTS, " Ostler at " The Tabard Inn, Southwark. "June 14th, 18— ." " I conclude, therefore," said Mr. Lancaster, as he finished reading this letter, " that you are this Joe Roberts's father, as he herein states ; and the reason the Duchess of Liddesdale asked me to come and inquire into this business was, that the Duke not being here she did not like entrusting the matter to a servant. So now tell me all you know about this poor boy, and BEHIND THE SCENES, 285 I have no doubt but she will do all she can to aid your son in his benevolent intentions towards him." " Bless you, sir, it's an old story soon told, about poor Fanny Parker ; — but that's her child as I sent out when you come in. It's all true what Joe says in his letter about the villany of that Ferrars ; but what Joe didn't say is, sir, that he and Fanny Parker kept company eleven years ago, and was to have been married. When this Ferrars, a boy, as his aunt calls him — aye, a mere boy in yeare, but a regular thorough-going Beelzebub in wickedness ; which makes it worse to my thinking — for some gets full-blown in vice at the fii-st starting, so that they never is to say, young — being old in wickedness directly. Well, this here Ferrars meets poor Fanny at Waxhall or Creemoime, or some of the devil's drawing-room places, and if he don't fool the girl into believing that he was a gentleman's walley out on a spree like ; and from one thing to another he gets on till he deludes her wdth a mock marriage; and when he compassed her ruin, he leaves her on the wide world to starve. So the poor creetur had nothing for it but the Union — and there the Lord had compassion on her, and she died. But sin must al- ways have a wictim ; and like the sacrifices of the Jews that we reads on in the Bible, it always must be something hinno- cent — a kid, or a lamb, or a child, — and so in Fanny Parker's sin, poor Jack was the wictim." " I think," interrupted Mr. Lancaster, " that you should rather say, in Mr. Ferrars' sin ; for the poor girl seems to have been basely deceived." " Tit for tat, sir ; tit for tat I — for she deceived our Joe, who had like to have died of it ; and it w^as an out-and-out sin to de- ceive one as doted on the very ground she walked on. And the worst of these sort of sins — indeed of all sins — is, that no one ever can say or guess where the mischief of 'em hends ; as soon as you think it have died away, it is sure to break out like the cholera in a fresh quarter. Well, what does Joe do — never able to get this girl o' of his head — but brings Jack from the Ujiion, 286 BEHIND THE SCENES. home to his mother and me, 'cause we had not too many mouths and too little bread already ! But, as he truly said in the midst of all his raving — and we was glad to hear one sensible remark to shew that he had not gone clean out of his mind altogether, — ' Kever grumble, mother,' says he, ' it's not the poor child's fault ; and you know what the Bible says — " The merciful shall find mercy." ' So not being able to gainsay that, we took the child, and kept him till he was old enough to bide in the stable along with Joe. But here was the o?zluckiest part of the whole business, sir — for all my misfortins have come through it ; Joe not only forbid his mother and me to tell any one who Jack's mother was ; but he makes a grand secret of who his father ^vas, and never could we get it out of him, not even when my missus have been put out with the boy, and to taunt Joe, have said — * Oh ! no doubt, Jack is a great man ! for, as we have never heard of any other, of course his father is the man in the moon ! ' Still Joe w^as as close as w' ax. Well, sir, I never be- gan to be ruined till I began to get on, and tried to get up in the world. As long as I stuck to my last, my last stuck to me; but having saved up a matter of £160, or thereabouts, the devil put it into my head to buy a patch of ground at Frothinton, which made me a £10 voter — and then it w^as I took to poli- tics and publics — goose-clubs and free-and-easies — and, in course, neglecting my work, my customers began to neglect me. Till about this time twelvemonth, I was beginning to get a little out at elbows — and if, even then, I'd been said by my missus, and given up the clubs and the politics, and taken ag'in steadily to my work, I might have done well even then ; but instead of that — to drive away care, which always bounds back to us like a cricket-ball, when we tries to fiing her from us in them there violent sort of ways — what does I do, but live a'most as it were, in the taproom of the ' Magpie and Stump,' where the Liberals, as they calls theirselves, had a free-and-easy. And when the 'lection corned on, one Slimey craft, Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' lieyer, gets hold on me, and tells me that hif so be as I will wote for BEHIND THE SCENES. 287 Ferrai's — ^vliicli was one aiid the same thing as woting forhber- ty ! independence, and the rights of the people I — and get as many of my friends at the chib to do the same — he would give me £10 for my own wote, and £10 for each wote as I got him. Only I was to be sure and not hint a word of this to mortal, as Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars knowd nothink about it ; and, indeed, that he should not account with me for the wotes till after the close of the poll, as the ho\)^osite party had an ugly trick of call- ing any monies given for wotes beforehand — bribery ; whereas, what was paid arter, only come under the head of gratitude. ' For, Mr. Slimey craft, sir ; ' says I, ' if this here Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars is such a great man as you says, and such a friend to the people, and all for upholding our rights and privileges, and all that — he shall have my wote and welcome, and I don't want no money for it.' ' Tut, tut,' says the wretch, a quoting Scripture — as we know the devil can do to suit his purposes — ' Tut, tut, man,' says he, ' the labourer is worthy of his hire ;' and I assure you Avhen you know more of Ferrars and liberty ! you'll know that he is the very last man to take up a poor mechanic's time, and benefit by his zealous services, without handsomely remu- nerating him for it. Besides,' he says, ' Roberts,' says he, ' in gaining over your friends to the right side, you will be put to some little expense, for you must never flinch from getting them to drink the Liberal member's health, for I always remark that the polling never goes on with such spirit as when the goes of gin and brandy have not been spared ! Well, sir, will you be- lieve that I wor such a hass — as, indeed, most of us £10 woters is — as to swaller all this ? — and afore the first day's polling was over, I had stood treat at the 'Magpie and Stump' — such was the terrible thirst of liberty ! for ale, wine, gin, and brandy ! to the tune of £15. But the worst was yet to come, for at the close of the poll, as I and my party, as I foolishly called 'em, was marching in triumph back to the ' Magpie and Stump,' to make still greater noodles of ourselves, one of Trueman the defeat- ed member's party, hurled a brick-bat at random amongst us, 288 BEHIND THE SCENES. which caught me just m the calf of the leg. This effectually sobered me ; and though it's only twenty mile from Frothinton to town, I had great difficulty in bearing the motion of the train, and I thought I should have died afore I got home ; and the cab from the station cost me four shillings. Nor was this the worst of it ; for a man never brings home a hamper of troubles, but what he is sure to find a still larger hamper there waiting for him ! — and sure enough, when Joe comed in, and hcerecl as I had not only give my wote and hinterest to ISlr. Ponsonby Ferrars ; but had got others to do so too, through all of which he had been returned, than Joe goes off just like a madman or a biler that had busted ; and then tells us for the fust time all about this here Ponsonby Ferrrars ; saying, that a month afore her death, Fanny Parker had found out who her betrayer was, and had confided it to Joe, who had vowed to bide his time, and never lose sight of him. ' Well, Joe,' says I, trying to pa- cify him, ' it's all your own fault for being so close ; for if so be as 1 could have had an inkling who this man was, why, in course, I'd have seen him at the d — 1 afore he should have had my wote. Howsever, to make the best of a bad business, it's some comfort to think that we'll have a pretty penny of money coming in, near upon £90, when Slimeycraft scores up.' " " ' Father ! ' cries Joe, swearing a terrible oath (he poor fellow as never swears), and clenching his fist, which he brought down on the table with the strength of a sledge-hammer, till the few things in the place rattled again — ' depend upon it. if you take one farthin of that man's money, you had better hang yourself first ; for there will be nearly as great a curse upon it as on Judas's thirty pieces of silver.' " Of course I didn't want to worry or herritate poor Joe, so said nothink, and let him think I had given up the idear of taking this money ; but the next morning when he had gone down to The ' Tabard ' (for he had slep' on the flure here that night), and I saw starvation staring us in the fiioe, and a long illness before me, T BEHIND THE SCENES. 289 wrote a line to Bedford Row, telling him the accident I had had, and saying, but for it I would, as I told him, have given my wote for nothink ; but as it was, being now disabled and thrown out of work, I should be very glad of a httle money, seeing the charges I had incurred in treating Mr. Ferrars' woters. This letter I give to my missus, and told her to wait for an answer. She was away a matter of nearly three hours, during which time I had neither fire nor breakfast, not being able to move off the bed. When she came back, she said the gentleman — a nice gentle- man ! truly — had kep' her waiting a long time, and had then sent out word by his clerk, that it was all right, and he'd call upon me in the arternoon. In course I thought he was coming with the money, and so told my wife to tidy up the place as well as she could. Well, sir, about three o'clock, sure enough he came ; but instead of bringing the money, he said, shewing me my own letter, — " ' What's all this, my good man ? Don't you know that bribery at elections is punishable by law ? ' " 'But sir, you promised — nay, sir, you insisted upon giving me £10 for my own wote, and £10 for every other wote that I could get for Ferrars.' " At this the wretch grinned in my face in the most aggra- wating manner, and said — " ' Well, now really, my good fellow, to look at you I should say you were black, but this must be an optical illusion ; for decidedly you must be green, and very green, not to know what the commercial value of electioneering promises are ! ' " ' Then,' said I, quite roused by his villany, ' if there is any stir made about the bribery that went on at the Frothiptoi^ election, I am ready to take my oath of the manner in which you bribed me, and the fool I was to let myself be bribed 1 ' " ' Ha ! ha ! ' laughed this hyena of a Lieyer^ ' Take as many oaths as you please, if it is any amusement to you to do so, but re- collect this, that Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' oath and my oath (with witnesses that we have ajvvays at our command) would be takep ir| 13 290 BEHIND THE SCENES. any Court of Justice in Eng-land, against yours and we'd have you transported for perjury. Besides, just look here, my good fellow,' said the wretch, taking a packet of letters out of his pocket, that seemed much worn and with different post-marks on them, ' not one of these documents are in reality penned by the persons from whom they ostensibly come ; and yet, there is not one of the parties purporting to have written them — though morally certain that they had not done so ; when made acquainted with their contents, that would not nevertheless be compelled to swear that such was their signature and hand-writing. Now, my good fellow, though not generally known, because not generally resorted to, as weak minds have a prejudice against it, yet this fac-simileing of other persons' writing is as thriving a trade in our great town as any other ; therefore don't flatter yourself that your penman- ship is so exquisite as to be inimitable, and the moment you swear bribery against me and my honorable client, I shall put in a letter from you accusing yourself of perjury, and saying that you had been bribed by the opposite party to do so ; but that your conscience (capital ! public word that) would not allow you to go through with it ; and 1 shall even contrive to have this document handed up in open court, as if coming directly from yourself. As for risking your future vote and interest — as it is not very likely that Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars will ever again stand for a little trumpery place like Frothinton — that does not give us much anxiety, and although he and I, have both far too large a stake in the great game of life to, from choice, waste our time in catching minnows, or breaking butterflies on the wheel — yet, if you are not quiet, or if you make any more ridiculous demands upon us, we shall be compelled, in order to rid ourselves of the nuisance, to put a damper on your trade. So take my advice, and stick to your awl, as it is all you have to look to, and as a shoemaker you will find that there is noth- ing like leather ! ' " And so saying, with another laugh, the monster left the room. It was well for him that I could not move, or else I BEHIND THE SCENES. 291 think he'd have had to go home with a few less of his crafty brains in his head." " A precious pair of villains, indeed, this Shmeycraft and his client ! " groaned Lancaster, for a moment covering his face, as he remembered that the latter was always hovering like a vulture round Edith. " But," added he, " beyond having been swindled out of your vote and your money, and laughed at for your folly by this unprincipled pair, — I quite agree with the gentleman who went away when I came in, that you have nothing further to fear from them, not from any compassion towards you, but out of consideration for themselves. You have certainly paid dearly for the lesson ; but not too dearly, if it has taught you that interfering in what we don't understand is at once the surest and most severe manner of tempting Providence ; and depend upon it, honest artizans in your sphere are as little competent to manage the tools Politicians employ, to make stepping stones of them, as those fine gentlemen would be to handle, with any degree of success, the implements of your craft. But how about this poor child ; — in what way do you think the Duchess of Liddesdale can best serve him ? " ' " Well, sir, for the present, I should say as he was almost imrioided for ; only to be sure servitude is not an inheritance. But one Mrs. Bousefield, he tells me — a very tidy sort of ooman, that I have worked for these many years — it seems met Jack in the street to-day, and took compassion on him, by promising to get him a sittmation as herrand-boy, and such like, with the lady where she now lives. So perhaps, sir, it would be better not to trouble her grace jist at present, if so be at any futer time she would have the goodness to hinterest herself for poor Jack." " May be that would be the best plan," said Mr. Lancaster ; " and then she would have more time to consider what would be the best method of insuring his future welfare. But it seems to me, that your own necessities are the most pressing, so let us see what can be done for them. There is a certain honest 292 BEHIND THE SCENES. pride whicli every man, who deserves the name of one, pos- sesses, and which would revolt at the humiliation of alms, and the enervating fetters of dependance ; but on the other hand, there is in some positions a yearning for the assistance and support of our fellows, which every one who is a Christian feels God has placed him in this world for, whether it be to give or to receive ; and inasmuch as that we are told on high authority, that * it is more blessed to give than to receive,^ the giver, contrary to the current opinion in the world, is in reality the debtor. Now, do you think that if I were to hire and pay the rent of a small shop for you, and the wages of three workmen, giving you a certain sum to purchase a stock-in-trade, and to start with, that you could return to, and stick steadily to your business, and at the end of three years refund me an instal- ment of the original outlay, and so on, annually afterwards, till you were once more free and independent, and the whole busi- ness became hand fide as well as ostensibly yours ? At the same time — as often with the best intentions and the most un- remitting industry, human undertakings are liable to fail — if, upon an examination of your books, and an investigation of your conduct, I found yours had done so, I should make no demands upon you, but consider that we had both been unfor- tunate in our speculation and must go on a little longer, hoping for better times." " Sir, sir ! I don't understand," said Roberts, with a half ecstatic, half bewildered look, as he took off his spectacles and clasped his hands. Surely it is not possible that you can really mean to " But Lancaster interrupted him, by repeating the substance of what he had just said. " Margaret ! a cup of water," gasped the poor mechanic, taking off his cravat, and nearly falling back on the pillow. " Oh ! sir," added he, " don't think me ungrateful ; it is not-^ indeed it is not that — but your kindness quite overpowers me^ BEHIND THE SCENES. 293 and my gratitude chokes me ; my heart is too full of it, and yet it cannot get further than my throat." " Come, come, my good fellow," said Lancaster, rising with a smile, " I don't want to have the coroner here, so you must rally, and let me find you all right when I return in a day or two — as I shall do, to know where you have decided upon our taking the shop. And you, too, Mrs. Roberts, you must stir yourself, for you'll have to see ahout the furniture and other domestic concerns." Apparently forgetting the cup of cold water she was hold- ing to her husband, the poor creature let it drop from her hand, and splash all about, as she fell upon her knees, exclaiming, "May the Lord in heaven bless you, sir ! " " You cannot kneel to Him too often ; but never kneel to any human being," said Lancaster, raising her kindly ; and then to avoid their further thanks, he hurried out of the room. Verily ! Omnipotence alone understands the science of the heart's gravitation ; for the more it takes upon itself the burdens of others, the lighter it becomes : and Harold Lancaster's had not felt so buoyant for many a long day, as it did when he turned out of that dark, dirty street, from which he had just emancipated two weary spirits, and drove back to Carlton Gardens, radiant with the anticipation of meeting Edith en jyetit comite, at the Duchess of Liddesdale's at dinner, that day. C|f ®orI^, t\t ikB\, Hill) t\}t §M. SECTION XII. *' Make to yourselves friends of the Mammon of unrighteousness.'" — Luke, xvi. 9. " For the children of this world are wiser in their generation than the children of lighV— Ibid. v. 8. " Often what passes for extreme cleverness in the world is nothing more than intense want of principle." "Le ciel en vous formant, voulut se signaler j'y cousens : mais enfln, vous netes que des hommes."— Gilbert. It was late on Saturday nigbt, or rather early on Sunday morn- ing, when Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' brougham stopped at the Clarendon. He had been at the Opera, but on account of his new rdle of rejected, and therefore, as a matter of course, de- jected lover, he had taken care not to appear in the foi/er, but had ensconced himself at the back of the Duchess of Diplomat's box, occupied, on that night, by Mrs. Piers Moncton ; whom, after he had again felicitated on her good fortune, in securing for a governess such a rock of sense! mountain of learning! and model of morality! as Fraulein Gothekant, he had to listen to that lady's individual hopes and fears. " Oh ! ray dear Mithter Ponthonby Ferrarth," said she, " we have had good news at latht : Pierth had a letter from hith fa- ther to-day, thaying that hith elder brother, Grantley, ith tho ill at Bruthells that he hath been given over ; and ath to Thir Pierths, in the courthe of nature it ith impothible that he can latht lono:." BEHIND THE SCENES. 295 " I'm afraid I can't flatter you, my dear Mrs. Moncton, old people do stick to life with such inveterate obstinacy ; look at my aunt for instance ; I'm positively ruined with post-obits. However, you understand, these are things one don't talk about to every one ; but I know I may rely upon your discretion, and I hope you do not doubt mine ; for if any one says to me how pretty Mrs. Moncton looks to-night, but rather pale, I shall say — Ah ! poor Moncton has had very bad accounts of his brother, and his chcre petite femme is a perfect sensitive plant — ha, ha, ha ! " " Ha, ha, ha ! " re-echoed the lady, and the amiable pair laughed in concert, for full two minutes ; the gentleman adding, when their mirth had subsided, — " The fact is, as I need not tell you, the w^orld is a big baby not yet weaned from its prejudices, and never will be ; and the only way one can get it to be quiet, and not pull one to pieces for its amusement, is to talk all sorts of nonsense to it ; by so doing, one may manage to fare better than Gulliver did with the Brobdignag baby, and keep oneself out of its mouth." " Very true, but you have one comfort," said his companion — returning, like all sensible people, to the pounds, shillings, and pence part of their conversation — " and a great comfort it ith, my dear Mithter Ferrarth, that lady Mammonton doeth give out pubHcly, that you are to be her heir, and don't go on ang- ling with your hopeth and fearth, like thome of oneth rich relationth." " Ah ! but still, all this amounts to a promissory note, and I nmch prefer hank notes ! then too, the piety of old women generally consists in having a saving grace — and nothing be- yond." " Well," laughed Mrs. Moncton, " and all the better for those who come after them, without ever having arrived at that^ or pei'haps at any othei- state of grace, as I suppose Archdeacon Panmuir would tell you — ex Cathedra. Dear me, but that Miss Panmuir is very handsome," added she, arranging the focus of her opera glass, so as the better to examine Edith, who, 296 • BEHIND THE SCENES. after dining with, had just come into the Duchess of Liddes- dale's box opposite, accompanied by Mr. Lancaster and Samuel Panmuir ; — " don't you think so ? " concluded Mrs. Moncton, appealing to her companion. But exclusive of its being one of Mr. Ponsonby Ferrars' theories, that a man should never praise one woman to another, — for his way of flattering the sex was always to libel them — be did not, under existing circumstances, feel the slightest in- clination to join in Edith's praises, so he merely replied with a shrug — drawling out every word leisurely — " Well, — she's — not — exactly — my — style — of — woman." Here, to his great relief, the box door opened, and the Conde de Sotomayor, like a heavy three-decker Dutch skipper, rolled in, followed by Monsieur Charles de la Tour de Nesle, floating buoyantly like a small life-boat in his wake. It being an understood thing about town, that Mrs. Piei^s Moncton and the Conde could always suflSce to each other ; and, indeed, as far as Sotomayor was concerned, he was more than a portion pour une, let that one have been ever so exijeante! while with regard to the lady — why " Man wants but little here below,"