.^
m
LIBRARY
VWmSWf OF CALIFORNIA
RIVERSIDE
THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION
THE WORKS OF
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
WITH BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTIONS BY
HIS DAUGHTER, ANNE RITCHIE
IN THIRTEEN VOLUMES
Volume III.
THE MEMOIRS OF
MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH
THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND, Etc
^S32.
/'■■'JU^.At. Pf'.-i^^^i^ fU
^L :'f'l/i.^ltu~£:Z^. Ot
'[ ME MEMOIRS OF
MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH
TflE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
AND THE
GREAT HOGGARTV DIAMOND
COX'S DL\RY, Etc.
BY
WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY
WJTJJ ILLUSTRATIONS BY GEORGE CRUIKSHANK
AND A PORTRAIT OF THE A UTIIOR
HARPER & BR OTHER. S PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK AND LONDON
1900
p'
i'i
THE BIOGRAPHICAL EDITION OF
W. M. THACKERAY'S COMPLETE WORKS
Edited by Mrs. Annk Thackeray RiTCHlE
The volutnes are issued asj .ir as possible in order of original publication
VANITY FAIR
PENDENNIS
YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS, Etc.
BARRY LYNDON, Etc.
SKETCH BOOKS
(S. CONTRIBUTIONS TO
" PUNCH," Etc
7. HENRY ESMOND, Etc.
8. IHK NEWCOMES
9. CHRISTMAS BOOKS, Etc
10. THE VIRGINIANS
11. PHILIP, Etc.
12. DENIS DUVAL, Etc
13. MISCELLANIES
Illustrated. Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, Uncut Edges and Gilt Tops,
$1 7S per volume
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK AND LONDON
Copyright, 1898, by Harpbr & Bbothbrs
CONTENTS
PAGE
INTRODUCTION . . , , . . , .XV
THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH AND
THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND
CHAP.
I. GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF OUR VILLAGE AND THE
FIRST GLIMPSE OF THE DIAMOND ... 3
II. TELLS HOW THE DIAMOND IS BROUGHT UP TO
LONDON, AND PRODUCES WONDERFUL EFFECTS
BOTH IN THE CITY AND AT THE WEST END . 9
III. HOW THE POSSESSOR OF THE DIAMOND IS WHISKED
INTO A MAGNIFICENT CHARIOT, AND HAS YET
FURTHER GOOD LUCK . . . . .19
IV. HOW THE HAPPY DIAMOND - WEARER DINES AT
PENTONVILLE ....... 29
V. HOW THE DIAMOND INTRODUCES HIM TO A STILL
MORE FASHIONABLE PLACE .... 33
VI. OF THE WEST DIDDLESEX ASSOCIATION, AND OF
THE EFFECT THE DIAMOND HAD THERE . . 39
VII. HOW SAMUEL TITMARSH REACHED THE HIGHEST
POINT OF PROSPERITY .....
VIII. RELATES THE HAPPIEST DAY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH's
LIFE ........
IX. BRINGS BACK SAM, HIS WIFE, AUNT, AND DIAMOND,
TO LONDON
48
57
63
VUl
CONTENTS
CHAP.
X.
XI.
XII.
XIII.
OF SAMS PRIVATE AFFAIRS, ANT> OF THE FIRM
OF BROUGH AND HOFF .....
IX WHICH IT APPEARS THAT A MAN MAY POSSESS
A I>IAMOXD, AND YET BE VERY HARD PRESSED
FOR A DINNER
IN WHICH THE HERO's AUNT's DIAMOND MAKES
ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE HERO's UNCLE
IX WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT A COOI> WIFE IS
THE BEST DIAMOND A MAN CAN WEAR IN
HIS BOSOM . . ...
PAGE
95
lOG
I.
II.
III.
IV.
V.
VI.
VH.
VIM.
I\.
THE TTvEMEXDOrS ADVENTrilES OF
MAJOli GAHAGAN
" TRUTH IS STRANGE, STRANGER THAN FICTION "
ALLYGHUR AND LASWAREE ....
A PEEP INTO SPAIN — ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND
SERVICES OF THE AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULAR.s
THE INDIAN CAMP — THE SORTIE FKO.M THE FORT
THE ISSUE OF MY INTERVIEW
FAMINE IN THE (JARKI.^ON
THE ESCAPE .
THE CAPTIVE
SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUn
WITH MY AVIFE
119
131
140
153
ir.i
1G5
171
174
180
COX'S DlAllY
JANUARY THE ANNOUNCEMENT
FEBRUARY FIRST ROUT ....
MARCH — A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS
APRIL — THE FINISHING TOUCH .
189
193
197
201
CONTENTS
IX
MAY — A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA
JUNE — STRIKING A BALANCE ....
.JULY — DOWN AT BEULAH ....
AUGUST — A TOURNAMENT ....
SEPTEMBER OVER-BOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED
OCTOBER — NOTICE TO QUIT
NOVEMBER — LAW LIFE ASSURANCE .
DECEMBER — FAMILY BUSTLE ....
PAGE
205
209
213
217
221
225
229
233
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
MISS shum's husband
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE : —
DIMONl) CUT DIMOXn ......
FORING PARTS ........
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS :
CHAP.
I. THE TWO BUNDLES OF HAY
II. " HONOUR THY FATHER "
III. MINEWVRING
IV.
HITTING THE NALE ON THE
V. THE GRIFFIN S CLAWS
VI. THE JEWEL .
VII. THE CONSCiUINSIES .
VIII. THE END OF MR. DEUCEACE's
IX. THE MARRIAGE
X. THE HONEYMOON . ' .
MR. YELLOWPLUSh's AJEW
SKIMMINGS FROM "THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV."
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI
237
256
270
• • • «
279
•
284
• ■ • •
290
HEDD "
297
• . . .
300
304
.
311
HISTORY — LIMBO
315
• • • •
329
.
331
. . • >
338
E IV."
348
360
VUl
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGK
X. OF sam's private affairs, and of the firm
OF BROUGH AND HOFF ..... 75
XI. IN WHICH IT APPEARS THAT A MAN MAY POSSESS
A DIAMOND, AND YET BE VERY HARD PRESSED
FOR A DINNER ...... 86
XII. IN WHICH THE HERo's' AUNT's DIAMOND MAKES
ACQUAINTANCE WITH THE HERO's UNCLE . 95
XIII. IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT A GOOD WIFE IS
THE BEST DIAMOND A MAN CAN WEAR IN
HIS BOSOM . . . . . ... 106
I.
II.
III.
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
MAJOR GAHAGAN
"truth IS STRANGE, STRANGER THAN FICTION"
ALLYGHUR AND LASWAREE ....
A PEEP INTO SPAIN — ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND
SERVICES OF THE AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS
IV. THE INDIAN CAMP THE SORTIE FROM THE FORT
V. THE ISSUE OF MY INTERVIEW ' WITH MY WIFE
VI. FAMINE IN THE GARRISON ....
Vri. THE ESCAPE .......
VIII. THE CAPTIVE ......
IX. SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR ....
119
131
UO
153
161
165
171
174
180
COX'S DIARY
JANUARY THE ANNOUNCEMENT
FEBRUARY — FIRST ROUT ....
MARCH A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS
APRIL — THE FINISHING TOUCH .
189
193
197
201
CONTENTS
IX
MAY — A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA
JUNE — STRIKING A BALANCE ....
JULY — DOWN AT BEULAH ....
AUGUST — A TOURNAMENT ....
SEPTEMBER OVER-BOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED
OCTOBER — NOTICE TO QUIT ....
NOVEMBER — LAW LIFE ASSURANCE .
DECEMBER — FAMILY BUSTLE ....
PAGE
205
209
213
217
221
225
229
233
THE MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND . . "
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE :
DIMOND CUT DIMOND . . . .
FORING PARTS
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS : —
CHAP.
I. THE TWO BUNDLES OF HAY
IL " HONOUR THY FATHER "
III. MINEWVRING .
IV. " HITTING THE NALE ON THE
V. THE griffin's CLAWS
VL THE JEWEL .
VII. THE CONSQUINSIES .
VIII. THE J;ND OF MR. DEUCEACE's
IX. THE MARRIAGE
X. THE HONEYMOON . ' .
MR. YELLOWPLUSH's AJEW
SKIMMINGS FROM " THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV.
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI
237
256
270
• • • •
279
• • • •
284
• • • •
290
HEDD "
297
• • • •
300
■ • • •
304
■ • • ■
311
HISTORY LIMBO
315
• • ■ •
329
• • • •
331
• • " •
338
E IV."
34S
• • • •
360
CONTENTS
THE DIARY OF C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ.,
WITH HIS LETTERS
A LUCKY SPECULATOR
THE DIARY ....
JEAMES ON TIME BARGINGS
JEAMES ON THE GAUGE QUESTION
MR. JEAMES AGAIN .
PAGI
381
387
424
426
429
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
CHAP.
I.
SIR LUDWIG OF HOMBOURG .
II.
THE GODESBERGERS
III.
THE FESTIVAL . . . ,
IV.
THE FLIGHT
V.
THE traitor's DOOM
VI.
THE CONFESSION . . . .
VII.
THE SENTENCE
VIII.
THE CHILDE OF GODESBERG .
IX.
THE LADY OF WINDECK
X.
THE BATTLE OF THE BQ-WTVIEN
XI.
THE MARTYR OF LOVK, .
XII.
THE CHAMPION . . . .
XIII.
THE MARRIAGE
435
439
444
446
448
452
455
457
465
471
476
482
488
CHARACTER SKETCHES
CAPTAIN ROOK AND Mil. PIGEON
THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS .
THE ARTISTS ....
495
511
523
CONTEXTS
XI
THE FATAL BOOTS
JANUARY — THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR
FEBRUARY— CUTTING WEATHER
MARCH SHOWERY ....
APRIL FOOLING ....
MAY RESTORATION DAY .
JUNE — MARROWBONES AND CLEAVERS
JULY SUMMARY PROCEEDINGS
AUGUST — DOGS HAVE THEIR DAYS .
SEPTEMBER PLUCKING A GOOSE
OCTOBER — MARS AND VENUS IN OPPOSITION
NOVEMBER A GENERAL POST DELIVERY .
DECEMBER-
THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT
PAGE
541
545
549
553
557
561
565
569
573
577
581
585
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
CHAP.
I. OF THE LOVES OF MR. PERKINS AND MISS GORGON,
AND OF THE TWO GREAT FACTIONS IN THE
T01,ATJ OF OLDBOROUGH 591
II. SHOWS HOW THE PLOT BEGAN TO THICKEN IN OR
ABOUT BEDFORD ROW . . . . = 607
IIL BEHIND THE SCENES 619
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED
633
I
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PORTRAIT OF W. M. THACKERAY, 1832
Frontispiece
PAGE
BLUE FROCKCOAT ........ XVi
THACKERAY AT HARE COURT, TEMPLE .... Xni
BUCKSTONE ......... xviii
KING .......... xviii
MEGREEDY ......... xix
LORD CHANCELLOR XXVii
PEEPING LADY . Xxix
GARRICK CLUB HEADS ....... XXXii
DOMESTIC DREAMS ....... XXXiii
ATELIER ......... XXxiv
DE LA PLUCHE. M. A. TITMARSH. MAJOR GAHAGAN . XXxlX
COX'S DIARY
JANUARY — THE ANNOUNCEMENT
FEBRUARY FIRST ROUT
MARCH A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS
APRIL THE FINISHING TOUCH
MAY A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE UPERA
JUNE — STRIKING A BALANCE.
To face page 190
194
198
202
20G
210
xiv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
JULY — DOWN AT BEULAH . . . To face page 214
AUGUST A TOURNAMENT ....
SEPTEMBER — OVER-BOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED
OCTOBER NOTICE TO QUIT ....
NOVEMBER LAW LIFE ASSURANCE
DECEMBER — CHRISTMAS BUSTLE
218
222
220
230
232
THE FATAL BOOTS
JANUARY — THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR
FEBRUARY CUTTING WEATHER
MARCH — SHOWERY
APRIL FOOLING ....
MAY — RESTORATION DAY
JUNE — MARROWBONES AND CLEAVERS
JULY SUMMARY PROCEEDINGS
AUGUST — DOGS HAVE THEIR DAYS .
SEPTEMBER — PLUCKING A GOOSE
OCTOBER MARS AND VENUS IN OPPOSITION
NOVEMBER A GENERAL POST DELIVERY
DECEMBER "THE WINTER OK OUR DISCONTENT
542
546
550
554
558
562
566
570
574
578
582
586
INTRODUCTION
TO
YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
AND
HOGGARTY DIAMOND, etc.
1831— 1837
I.
The early years which my father spent in London, looking
about him, trying his 'prentice hand on life, coming and going
with his friends, were those in which he saw most of Edward
FitzGerald, Charles and Arthur Bnller, of John and Henry
Kemble, all of whom seem, to have been his playfellows. Al-
fred and Frederick Tennyson, and John Allen, are also among
those who are constantly mentioned in the notes and the letters
of that time.
These young knights of the Mahogany Tree used to meet
and play and work together, or sit over their brandy-and-water
discussing men and books and morals, speculating, joking, and
contradicting each other — liking fun and talk and wit and hu-
man nature, and all fanciful and noble things. Alfred Tenny-
son was already the poet laureate of this little court, which was
roaming about London, with so much vigour and cheerful mirth.
They all went their own ways. They heartily admired each
other (and no wonder), and they encouraged the minor graces
as well as the major virtues. Among other things they seem
to have greatly admired a blue frockcoat of FitzGerald's, of
XVI
YELLOW PLUSH PAPERS
which he himself has written more than once in his letters.
" It looks delightful in church," he says,
I have a letter addressed to Edward .FitzGerald, Esq., at
Mrs. Perry's, Trumpington Street, Cambridge, and docketed
'■'■ first letter from W. M. T. after mrj departure from London in
November 1831."
" I don't think my rooms will ever appear comfortable again,"
says the letter. " Here are your things lying in the exact place
you left tliem. . . . The Kembles have called ; J. yesterday,
Henry to-day — he is a dear fellow, and we talk about nothing
but you and the theatre. . . ." Then again : "John Kemble
stayed with me till five o'clock, vvlien we
set forth on a walk; we went round the
Regent's Park, and he had the talk to
himself. It was agreeable enough : about
his Spanish adventures, and his friend
'^- General Torrijo's exploits. He has asked
me to his house. . . , Mrs. Kemble has
returned, leaving her daughter at Paris."
This was at the time my father sat
every day in Mr. Taprell's office j)crched
on a high stool, drawing up legal docu-
ments. Mr. Taprell was a special pleader
and conveyancer, and it would be curious
to come across a legal document in his
pupil's handwriting.
Almost a year before this time my grandparents and my
father had come to the conclusion that he should go to the bar.
He himself was anxious to begin work. Writing to his mother
from Germany, January 25, 18;31, he says: "I do believe,
mother, that it is not merely an appetite for novelty which
prompts me, but really a desire to enter a profession and do
my duty in it. I am nearly twenty years old — at that time my
father had been for five years engaged on his. I am fully aware
how difficult and disagreeable ray task must be for the first four
years, but I have an end in view and an independence to gain ',
and if I can steadily keep 'this before me, I shall not, I trust,
flinch from the pursuit of them." By the autumn of that year
the young student was established in the Temple.
BLUE FROCKCOAT.
INTRODUCTION
xvu
He sent Mr. FitzGerald a picture of himself, and of liis stool
and of No. 1 Hare Court, Temple, and one of the lamp-post
and the railings outside. The drawing given here is from a
letter home. *
" W. M. T. to Major Carmichael-Smyth.
''December 18:51.
" I go pretty regularly to my pleader's, and sit with him till
past five ; then I come home and read and dine till about nine or
THACKERAY AT HARE COURT, TEMPLE.
past, when I am glad enough to go out for an hour and look at
the world. As for the theatre, I scarcely go there more than
once a week, which is moderate indeed for me. In a few days
come the Pantomimes ! Plnzza !
" I have been to Cambridge, where I stayed four days feasting
on my old friends, so hearty and hospitable. ... I could have
stayed there a month and fed on each.
XVlll
YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
" I find this work really very pleasant : one's day is agreeably
occupied ; there is a newspaper and a fire and just enough to
do. Mr. Taprell has plenty of business, and I should think
would be glad of another assistant, whom I hope to provide for
him, in my friend Kemble, with whom I am very thick. ... I
have been employed on a long pedigree case, and find myself
BUCKSTONE.
KING.
very tolerably amused, only it is difiicult to read dry law-books
and to attend to them. I sit at home a good deal, but proceed
very slowly. I have to lay out nearly £5 to-day for these same
ugly books."
A diary which was written in the early part of 1832 brings
INTRODUCTION
XIX
back very vividly the daily life of that time. It begins with a
family record.
"■Monday, April 2, 1832. — In the morning William Ritchie
called — he has grown a very fine boy."
Then comes a description of going to see Haydon's pictures:
" Mr. Haydon, by dint of telling all the world he is a great
painter, has made them believe it. The ' Mock Election ' is
MKGREEnr.
Queen (Mrs. Bulger). Hamlet! thou liast thy father mucli offended.
Hamlet (Megreedy). Madam, thou has my father much offended.
Queen. There's the least taste in life of linen hanging out behind. i
very forced and bad, ' Xenophon ' so so, and the rest of the
pictures about as good as the ' Mock Election.'"
" Went to see father and mother at Covent Garden. The
opera was the ' Barber of Seville.' Miss Inverarity sang charm-
ingly, but has a mouth big enough to sing two songs at once.
Wilson has one of the freshest voices I ever heard. Wrote
XX YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
some verses for Charlotte Shakespeare, which are not quite fin-
ished."
*'■' Sunday, April 29. — Breakfasted at Bullers', and met his
brother (Arthur Buller), a very nice fellow, and very well read.
Idled about all day till dinner-time, when A. Buller and King-
lake dined with me at the Bedford. At night went canvassing
for Percy and Pteform ; it was a silly prank, but has shown me
how easy it is to talk men over. ... I wish to God I could take
advantage of my time and opportunities as C. Buller has done.
It is very well to possess talents, but using them is better still.
Just as I had written my criticism on Buller, enter D., who tinds
fault with him for the very things which I thought so creditable.
He says he has not taken advantage of his opportunities. To
be sure, as to advancement, society, and talent, he has had
greater advantages than most men. Not the least of them that
Carlyle was his tutor.
" Went to Chambers. Dined in Hall; afterwards Kemble and
Hallam sat here for an hour. Read an article in Blackioood
about A. Tennyson, abusing Hallam for his essay in the Eng-
lishman. Read the Monthly, which is cleverer than any of the
others, I think. Took a shilling's worth at the Strand Theatre
to see the 'Judgment of Paris,' a poor thing enough."
It was about this time that he went to see Macready in the
" Merchant of London," " a good play, and admirably acted."
The drawing here given belongs, perhaps, to a somewhat later
date, but it is evidently a sketch of a young Macready, adapted
to a jesting story by the youthful chronicler.
It was in these very early days that my father made the ac-
quaintance of Dr. Maginn, with whom he bad further dealings.*
* Mr. Blanchard Jenold describes Father Prout in Paris, speaking to him
of this time: "Without preface" — he was a man void of preface in speech
(Mr. Jerrold writes), and like Siebenkas, advocate of the poor, he laid the
et;g of his act or deep sayin^r, without any nest on the naked rock — " I In-
" troduced Thackeray to Maginii." — Tiie Fatlier laughed as the vision pass-
ed before him. — " Thackeray was a young buck in those days, wanted to
"make a figure in literature, la belle affaire! So he tiiought he must help
"himself to a magazine. It is an expensive toy. A magazine wanted an
"editor; I recommended Billy Maginn." A burst of sharp laughter fol-
lowed this. " It wasn't so easy to get hoM of Master Maginn in tiiose times.
" However, I did get hold of him, and made Thackeray's proposition then
INTRODUCTION xxi
The first mention of him is in the diary from which I have
been quoting.
"Wednesday, May 2, 1832. — Dr. Maginn called and took me
to the Standard, showing me the mysteries of printing and
writing leading articles. With him all day till four. Dined at
the Sablonniere."
Next day he dines with Dr. Maginn at the King's Head. " A
dull party of low literary men." " Wrote yesterday to E. F. G.
with a letter as from Herrick. Might have been made pretty,
but was poor enough. How can a man know his own capabili-
ties? Not by reading, by which one acquires thoughts of others,
and gives one's self the credit of them. Bulwer has a high
reputation for talent, and yet I always find myself competing
with him."
Then again, a little further on : " Maginn with mc all the
morning, one of the pleasantest I ever passed. Maginn read
Homer to me, and he made me admire it as I had never done
before ; moreover he made me make a vow to read some Homer
every day, which vow I don't know whether I shall keep. His
remarks were extraordinarily intelligent and beautiful, mingled
with much learning, a great deal of wit, and no ordinary poet-
ical feeling. . . . Told me concerning G.'s roguery, but he was
not angry enough at it." (This last sentence is very character-
istic of ray father.)
Day by day he continues to chronicle the occupations and
amusements of the moment : —
" Walked out with Paget through Kensington Gardens, where
we strolled about and lay on the grass. Lunched at the Black
Lion at Bayswatcr. On returning home found half-a-dozen men
comfortably settled in my rooms, to which were presently added
as many more, and at last got rid of them and went to bed at
eleven. All the morning at Buller's, drawing caricatures. Met
Mrs. Austin there, a pretty, pleasant woman. Found that C. B.
and 1 did not at all agree about poetry." Elsewhere he writes:
"and tliere. Before Billy Maginn could go into the matter he must have
"£500 "
Of all this the writer knows nothing, but she gives the passage as it is
printed, and she owes the quotation to the kindness of Mr. Loder of Wood-
bridge.
xxii YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
"C. B. is H clever fellow, at any rate, and makes money by
magazine writing, in wliich 1 should much desire to follow his
example." On another page he mentions that Kemble has been
reading him some very beautiful verses of Tennyson's. The music
was in the air — not only was the poet come, but those who had
ears to hear.
The diary continues : " Supped at the Bedford with D., who
is to breakfast with me. I have never known what adversity is,
or I should be able, perhaps, to understand his incomprehensi-
ble recklessness and quiet, with things hanging over him which
if discovered might leave him a beggar and an outcast. I do not
love him now as in old times, and perhaps it is lucky for me,
for my pocket at any rate !"
Another day he is going about trying to find a market for
his caricatures. A certain Mr, Gibbs'says he can dispose of
them for him. There is also another friend, a bookseller.
" Had a talk with Mayer, who is quite a patriarch in his way.
A fat old fellow in black tights and gaiters. He has promised
to let me have his books at trade price."
Here is another entry : " BuUcr and Curzon* dined with me
at the Bedford. Ciirzon is the same noble little fellow he was
at school, with all his old enthusiasm and no humbug. When I
supposed him grown cool, it was I that was conceited, and not
he ; meeting Curzon again has made me very happy."
" Sunday, May 13. — Breakfasted with Edwards. Sat all the
morning with Dobbs. To-day a bishop has been pulled out of
his pulpit; what may come to-morrow? — perhaps a king may be
pulled off his throne. This sounds very like clap-trap, l)ut I fear
it will be true."
"Read law for about an hour. Went at eleven to Somerset
Coffee House; met Dr. Maginn, whom I like for his wit and
good feeling. Thence to Montagu Place to finish the pantomime
trick for John Henry. Called at Kcmble's, Du Pre's, and Patties',
and dined at the Bedford. J. Kemble and Pearson here till late in
the evening talking metaphysics, of which Pearson has read a
good deal, and Kemble amazingly little. Walked in the Park
with Mr. Dick and Kemble; met the Duke looking like an old hero."
* Hon. R. Curzon, author of "Curzon's Monasteries" — a Carthusian to
begin with.
INTRODUCTION xxiii
It is at Dr. Maginn's that my father meets Mr. Giffard, a
" very learned and pleasant man," and further on he writes :
" Very much delighted with the goodness of Giffard."*
At first there are constant mentions of Dr. Maginn, of his
scholarship and kindness and brilliant talk ; then come others
far less to the Doctor's credit. The reverse of the medal ap-
pears : it is not the King's head any more that we see; but the
dragon, with its claws and ugly forked tongue turns up, and alas !
no St. Geoi'ge to the rescue.
The story is a tragic one. How could it be otherwise with
such brilliant gifts, such fatal instincts. Mrs. Oliphant, before
she laid down her pen, that pen which was ever moved by lov-
ing wit, told the history and quoted Lockhart's touching epi-
taph, of which the last line sums up the spirit of the whole :
" Many worse, better few, than bright, broken Maginn."
The echoes, the common-sense, the daily sounds and sights
of the early thirties, seem to reach one as one looks over these
letters and note-books of a date when even the early Victorian
times were not, and William was King, when the heroes who
had fought for England and her very existence were resting on
their laurels and turning their swords into scythes.
There were domestic battles still to contest. The Reform
Bill was being fought inch by inch — " that Catilinarian Reform
Bill," as Coleridge calls it, writing at the time from Highgate
Hill. In the little hall of my father's house in Young Street
there used to be a print hanging over tl>e chimney-piece which
represented the passing of the Reform Bill. It was a well-
known print by S. W. Reynolds. Lord John Russell, as a
young man, is standing up with a very high collar to his coat.
Lord Pahnerston, and all the great men of the time, with curls
and mutton-chop whiskers, are grouped round about in ingen-
ious profiles and three-quarter faces. A gleam of light conies
dazzling in from one of the windows overhead, and is falling
straight upon the scroll of Liberty.
" The Ministers, the Reform Bill, and the country gone to
the devil," my father writes on May 9th. "Went to the House
* Probably T. L. Giffard, editor of the Standard, and father of the present
Lord Halsbury. — Diet, Nat. Biog.
xxiv YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
of Commons and got iu with Curzon's order. It will soon, I
suppose, be a house of delegates. . . . Bought a big stick where-
with to resist all parties in case of an attack."
But after all there is no rising in London as he anticipates.
" The Duke has been attacked in the streets," he says fur-
ther on. " Bracy walked home with him; the Duke shook his
hand and thanked him. Bracy says he has lived four and
twenty years, but never felt so happy as to-day. Bravo, Bracy !
I did not think you such a trump before."
The Reform Bill played a part in my father's life as it did
in that of his friends, and at this time he himself made his first
appearance in the arena of politics.
But he was never a keen politician. Pictures and plays
form a much larger share of his early interests than either poli-
tics or law cases. Only he sympathized warmly with his friends
and companions, and never hesitated to utter his sympathies.
It is impossible also not to feel even now how just were his in-
stinctive provisions and criticisms. Any one reading the speech-
es he made in 1858, when he was standing for the City of Ox-
ford, might realise how many of the things which he advocated
then have come about. I can still remember how people blamed
him for some of the things he said, for wishing for the Ballot,
for Universal Suffrage, and for all the changes that we are quite
used to now, which have proved to be friendly ploughs making
ready the land for the harvest of the future, rather than those
catastrophes and cataclysms which were anticipated. " How
deeply we all regret your dear father's dangerous views," I can
remember various voices saying, with a quaver of disapproba-
tion ; specially one dignified old lady, who', I believe, asked us
to dinner solely on pui'pose to remonstrate with him.
He used sometimes to speak of a happy expedition into
Cornwall, when he went to Liskeard to help Charles Buller in
his election in 1832. Long after, when the people of Liskeard
sent to ask my father himself to stand as their representative,
he was greatly tempted and amused by the suggestion, but he
said he could not afford it then. This happened before he had
crossed the water to America. The £1000 which Oxford cost
him in later days was, I think, all paid for in silver dollars.
INTRODUCTION xxv
The account of the Duller election is in his diary, and is
cheerful reading.
There is also a letter to his mother, dated from Polwellan,
West Looe.
''Jime25, 1832.
" Are you surprised, dear mother, at the direction ? Cer-
tainly not more prepared for it than I was myself, but you must
know that on Tuesday in last week I went to breakfast with
Charles Buller, and he received a letter from his constituents at
Liskeard requesting him immediately to come down ; he was too
ill, but instead deputed Arthur Buller and myself — so off we
set that same night by the mail, arrived at Plymouth the next
day, and at Liskeard the day after, when we wrote addresses,
canvassed farmers, and dined with attorneys. Then we came
on to Mr. Buller's, and here I have been very happy since Fri-
day. On Wednesday last I was riding for twelve hours' can-
vassing — rather a feat for me ; and considering I have not been
on horseback for eight months my stiffness yesterday was by
no means surprising. But it is seven o'clock of a fine summer's
morning, so I have no fatigue to complain of. I have been ly-
ing awake this morning meditating on the wise and proper man-
ner I shall employ my fortune on when I come of age, which,
if I live so long, will take place in three weeks. . . . Charles
Buller comes down at the end of next week: if you want me
sooner I will come ; if not, I should like to wait for the Re-
form rejoicings, which are to take place on his arrival, particu-
larly as I have a great share in the canvassing."
FROM THE DIARY.
''June 20, 1832. — Breakfasted with Charles Buller. At
eight o'clock we set off by the mail outside, crossed the water
to Tor Point, and set off for Liskeard by the mail. Here our
first act was a blunder — we went to the wrong Inn. This, how-
ever, was soon remedied, our trunks were withdrawn, and our-
selves breakfasted at Mr. Lyne's the attorney.
" Most of the day was occupied in composing an address for
Charles Buller, the one he sent down being considered unsatis-
factory. Arthur's was fixed upon by us, it was good but wordy ;
then we went to see two more attorneys to con over the address.
xxvi YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
and to drink tea, and at half-past ten we set oflE in pouring rain
to Polwellan, where we arrived at twelve, and went gladly to bed."
" Thursday, June 21. — Woke and forgot all my travelling
troubles after a long sweet sleep, and found myself in a very
charming house, in a pretty room, and with a pleasant family ;
the servants all mistook me for Charles Buller. I was kindly
received by Mr. and Mrs. Buller. The day has passed pleas-
antly enough with a walk, and a lunch, and a ride, and a dinner,
and a long talk afterwards about subjects of which none of the
party knew anything. At dinner there was a gentleman re-
markable for his name, Captain Toop Nicholas. The house is
very pleasant, the master of it most kind-hearted and honest,
and the mistress a very charming woman, an ancient flame of
my father's. We rode to Morvel, an Elizabethan house with
some noble woods. On Wednesday rode with A. Buller twelve
miles canvassing, and found much more good feeling and in-
telligence among the farmers than I had expected. There seems
to be a class of farmers here unknown to our part of Devonshire,
men of tolerable education, though not of a large property, not
unlike the Scotch farmer."
Elsewhere my father describes his host, " as he sits at table
surrounded by his family portraits, a fine specimen of a kind al-
most gone out now."
Here is a pleasant page of life. " After a merry day at Tem-
plars we set off in his cart to Newton, where we waited till 8.30
for the mail. At about one we reached Plymouth, and on Mon-
day, 9th, arrived by mail at ten o'clock at Liskeard, and found all
the town in an uproar, with flags, processions, and triumphal
arches, to celebrate Charles Buller's arrival. Rode out to meet
him, and had the honour, with some half-a-dozen others, to be
dragged in with him. The guns were fired, the people shouted
and pulled us through all parts of the town. C. Buller made a
good speech enough, then we adjourned to Mrs. Austin's to
lunch, and then to submit again to be pulled about for the
pleasure of the constituents. This business lasted from twelve
till four, during which I was three times gratified by hearing
my song about Jope sung t6 a tune, I suppose by some of the
choristers. . . . Arrived at Polwellan at six, and was glad to
see it again, for they certainly have been very kind."
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xxviii YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
The notes of electioneering alternate with the books which
he is reading, the people he is talking to, and the places he
visits. He reads " Wallenstein " in the morning, rides in the
afternoon, talks to the young ladies in the evening, and draws^
pictures. He meets Sir William Molesworth, who is standing
for the county, and with whom he always kept up a friendship
in after life, and who is here described as a " sensible fellow."
Electors go on dragging carriages and feasting in gardens, can-
didates make speeches, and when it pours with rain they all ad-
journ together to the Town Hall. Dances as well as tea drink-
ings are given in the cause of Liberal politics. One lady ap-
pears upon the scene, by whom at first he seems to be rather
fascinated. But she — counting, perhaps, too much upon a
young man's powers of attention — spares him no detail of com-
plicated domestic history, and on Saturday, July 11, he notes,
"A blank chiefly occupied by Mrs. 's voluminous conver-
sation."
Politicians appear to have been cheerful, young, and gay in
those days, with much less of Guy Favvkes about them than
th^re is now.
On the 18th July 1832 he writes : " Here is the day for which
I have been panting so long." He was now of age and his own
master.
H.
I have heard that the man who followed my father at Mr.
Taprell's chambers found the desk full of sketches and carica-
tures, which he had left behind him,* It was quite evident that
though he was amused by the work at first, his real place was
not in Hare Court ; his gifts lay in other directions, and the
visions here depicted were never to be realised, although my
father was actually called to the Bar in 1848.
In May of 1832 he had written: " This lawyer's preparatory
education is certainly one of the most cold-blooded, prejudiced
pieces of invention that ever a man was slave to. ... A fellow
* Mr. Reginald Smith tells me that the successor to my father's place,
who rose to be a dignitary of the law, unwarily showed his trouvaille to the
Special Pleader, who confiscated the sketches.
INTRODUCTION
XXIX
should properly do and think of nothing else than Law. Never
mind. I begin to find out that people are much wiser than I
am (which is a rare piece of modesty in me), and that old heads
do better than young ones, that is in their generation, for I am
sure that a young man's ideas, however absurd and rhapsodical
^-^^8^
PEEPINO LADY.
they are, though they mayn't smack so much of experience as
those of these old calculating codgers, contain a great deal more
nature and virtue. Here are hot weather and green trees again,
dear mother, but the sun won't shine into Taprell's chamber,
and the high stools don't blossom and bring forth buds.
matutini roses aura que salubres ! I do long so for fresh air
and fresh butter, only it isn't romantic."
His deliverance followed close upon this, for he seems to have
gone straight from Cornwall to France, stopping at Havre, sketch-
ing by the way, and reaching Paris before the end of August.
XXX YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
At Paris my father immediately subscribed to a reading-room
m the Palais Royal, with quiet rooms and a pleasant look-out.
He seems to have set to work at once, sent for a master, and
begun to study French literature, lie came in for the rise of
the romantic school, and he makes his own criticism upon it
" In the time of Voltaire," he says, " the heroes of poetry
and drama were fine gentlemen ; in the days of Victor Hugo
they bluster about in velvet and mustachios and gold chains, but
they seem in nowise more poetical than their rigid predecessors.
" I read to-day a novel of Balzac's called the Peau de Chagrin,
which possesses many of the faults and many of the beauties of
the school. Plenty of light and shade, good colouring and cos-
tumes, but no character."
He also reads in Gibbon and studies old Montaigne, and is
absorbed by Cousin's " History of Philosophy." " The excite-
ment of metaphysics must equal almost that of gambling," he
says. Besides reading books of every sort and size he goes to
the Louvre, to the Bibliotheque Royale, looking over the en-
gravings and copying some of them, and very constantly indeed
he is at the theatre, where he sees most of the actors, and young
Mdlle. Mars " playing deliciously in a pretty piece called Valerie,''^
and Mdlle. Dejazet at the Palais Royal in a piece called Napo-
leon a Brienne — N.apoleon was apparently as much in fashion
then as now. — At Franconi's they have also a representation of
the Emperor and all his army.
Here is a very striking comment upon a contemporary
event: —
Paris, August 8, 1832.
" I read the other day in the papers — Hier S.M. a envoye
com'plimenter V Ambassade^ir de VAutriche sur la mori du Due
de Reichstadt. It is as fine a text for a sermon as any in the
Bible — this poor young man dying, as many say, of poison, and
L. P. presenting his compliments on the occasion. Oh, Genius,
Glory, Ambition — what ought you to learn from this ? and what
might I not teach, only I am hungry and going — to breakfast !"
It was in January 1833 that Major Carmichael-Srayth became
associated with the National Standard and Journal of Litera-
ture^ Science, Music, and the Fine Arts — I have do doubt, partly
INTRODUCTION < xxxi
with a view to give my father an opening- in literature, and also
to retrieve some heavy losses which had fallen upon them both
about this time ; — an Indian bank had failed, English money
was mismanaged, and retrenchment became absolutely neces-
sary. The following letters will show that he was working
very steadily at journalism for some time besides thinking of
painting as a profession. The first is written in London to her
mother at Porchester Terrace, Bayswater : —
" I have been wanting very much to see you, dearest mother,
but this paper has kept me so busily at work, that I really and
truly had no time.
" I have made a woodcut for it of Louis Philippe, which is
pretty good ; but have only written nonsense, in the shape of
reviews. The paper comes out to-morrow afternoon, and then
I will come up to you with a copy thereof. I have been obliged
to put off the play and everything else, having actually done
nothing except work the paper. I send a boy with this, for I
thought you would be glad to know what my proceedings are.
God bless you, dearest mother ! I send you a couple of maga-
zines I have received in my new capacity."
The next letter comes from France again : —
Paris, July 6, 1833.
"It looks well to have a Parisian correspondent, and I think
that in a month more I may get together stuff enough for the
next six months. I have been thinking very seriously of turn-
ing artist; I think I can draw better than do anything else, and
certainly like it better than any other occupation ; why shouldn't
I ? It requires a three years' apprenticeship, however, which is
not agreeable, and afterwards the way is clear and pleasant enough.
An artist in this town is by far a more distinguished person than
a lawyer, and a great deal more so than a clergyman."
It will be seen that there were different views then about art,
to those we hold now ; parents have to be convinced by the
rising generations in turn.
During these two or three years my father seems to have
XXXll
YELLOW PLUSH PAPERS
come and gone constantly from Paris to London, probably on
account of his work for the newspapers.
He writes from the Garrick Club, on September 6, 1833 : " I
am wanting very much to leave this dismal city, dear mother,
but 1 must stay for some time longer, being occupied in writ-
ing, puffing, &c., and other delightful employments for the
Standard. I have had an offer made for a partner, which 1
think 1 shall accept, but the business cannot be settled for a
week or ten days. In the meantime I get on as well as I can,
spending my mornings in St. Paul's Churchyard, and my even-
ings in this Qub, which is a pleasant and cheap place of resort.
We have, thanks to me and some other individuals, established
a smoking-room, another great comfort. I am writing on a
fine, frosty day, which, consideiing this is the height of the
summer, or ought to be, is the more to be appreciated. 1 find
a great change between this and Paris, where one makes friends ;
here, though for the last three years I have lived, I have not
positively a single female acquaintance. I shall go back to
Paris, I think, and marry somebody. There is another evil
which I complain of, that this system of newspaper writing
spoils one for every other kind of writing. I am unwilling, now
more than ever, to write letters to my friends, and always find
Mr. Poole, Don Telebfoko de Tocche. James Smith,
Author of " Paul Pry." ' ' Rejected Addresses."
GARRICK CLUB HEADS.
myself attempting to make a pert, critical point at the end of a
sentence. I have just had occasion to bid adieu to Regulus ;
he has been breaking bottles of wine and abstracting liquors
therefrom, and this after T had given him a coat, a hat, and a
INTRODUCTION
XXXlll
half-crown to go to Bartholomew Fair. He lied stoutly, wept
much, and contradicted himself more than once, so I have been
obliged to give him his conge, and am now clerkless. This is,
DOMESTIC DREAMS.
I think, the only adventure which has occurred to me. I have
been talking of going out of town, but les affaires ! — as for the
theatres, they are tedious beyond all bearing, and a solitary
evening in chambers is more dismal still. One has no resource
but the Club, where, however, there is a tolerably good library
of reviews and a pleasant enough society— of artists of all kinds,
and gentlemen who drop their absurd English aristocratical no-
tions. You see by this what I am thinking of — I wish we were
all in a snug apartment in the Rue de Provence. FitzGerald has
been in town for a day or two, and I have plenty of his acquaint-
ances. There are a number of litterateurs who frequent this
Club, and the National Standard is, I am happy to say, grow-
ing into repute, though I know it is poor stuff.
"A friend of mine, just come from the country, says he shot
xxxiv YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
ten brace on the 1st of September ; may father have had as good
sport. There are lots of partridges here for four shillings a pair.
These are some of the characters of the Club; Smith is very
like."
In October he is back in Paris again, and writes to his
mother : " 1 want now to settle, to marry, and then to live in
the little house in Albion Street, going to church regularly, ris-
ing early, and walking in the Park with Mrs. T.
" Then what interesting letters I could write you about Billy's
progress in cutting his teeth, and Johnny's improvement in spell-
ing ! As it is, I have nothing earthly to talk about except my-
self — and I am tired of filling my letters with Ps.
" I spend all day now at the Atelier, and am very well satis-
fied with the progress I make. I think that in a year, were 1
to work hard, I might paint something worth looking at. The
other men at the Atelier are merry fellows enough, always sing-
ing, smoking, fencing, and painting very industriously besides.
Most of them have skill in painting, but no hand for drawing.
Little Le Portein himself is a wonderful fellow. I never knew
so young a man paint so well and so rapidly. . . .'The artists,
with their wild ways and their poverty, are the happiest fellows
in the world. I wish you could see the scene every day in the
Atelier. Yesterday we had a breakfast for five, consisting of
five sausages, three loaves, and a bottle of wine, for fifteen sous.
Afterwards pipes succeeded, and then songs, imitations of all
the singers in Paris."
It is well known that the Literary Standard did not fly for
very long. After it was hauled down my father returned to
Paris, and resumed his painting. He has left us one or two
sketches of his student life.
" W. M. T. to Mrs. Carmichael-Smytfi.
"Garrick Club, December 1833.
"I fear, the Xs. pudding must be eaten without me, as my
assistant, Hume, has gone into the country, and left me to do
all the work. Now I am anxious that the first number for the
year should be a particularly good one, and I am going to
change the name to the Literary Standard, and increase the
price to 3d., with which alteration I hope to do better. I am
INTRODUCTION
XXXV
sure we shall be as merry in the new house as possible. I be-
lieve I ought to thank Heaven for making me poor — it has
made me much happier than I should have been with the money.
But this is a selfish wish, for I shall now have to palm myself
on you and my father just at the time when I ought to be inde-
pendent."
At this time he was working with Brine, who was a well-
known artist of the dashing, impressionist school.
There is one scene from the Atelier in his note-book which
might have been quoted by Mr. du Maurier in his " History of
Trilby " : about a girl who would not pose, but instead sang
songs and cut capers ; and this is followed by a description of
ATELIER.
the artist at the head of the studio, " a venerable man with a
riband of honour, an excellent man I am told, a good father of a
family — but superior to all the rest by the extreme bathos of
his blackguardisms. ... It is no wonder that the French are
such poor painters with all this."
On June 11 he writes: "Tuesday the Louvre opened, and I
made on that day, and Wednesday, a little copy of Watteau.and
of another picture. ... It is very pleasant and calm to the eye
xxxvi YELLOW PLUSH PAPERS
to see the old pictures after the flaring gaudy exhibitions, whicli
shut up in January. I have been looking with much delight at
the Paul Veronese, and at some bits of Rubens's. The Raphaels
do not strike me more than they did before." On another day
he notes at the Bibliotheque du Roi: "Copied and admired
Lucas van Leyden, a better man, I think, than Albert Diirer, and
mayhap as great a composer as Raphael himself."
He had been living with his grandmother, Mrs. Butler, most
of this time, and with various old ladies, her friends and ac-
quaintances. It is impossible not to be struck by my father's
patience and dutifulness, and by the way in which he bore with
trying tempers and with the infirmities of age and disposition,
but it can be imagined that this was not a very congenial at-
mosphere ; domestic nerves and squabbles were always in the
air, and he often thinks with envy of a quiet garret or a silent
cell to himself. Finally he seems to have accomplished his am-
bition.
" This is our last day at Chaillot," he writes, " and I am sor-
ry to leave this most beautiful view, though I shall be happy
enough in my little den in the Rue des Beaux Arts, where I in-
tend to work hard, and lead a most pious, sober, and godly
life ;" and so the journal ends. A great many blank leaves fol-
low, and a few more accounts, and a new page is turned over.
HL
My father has sometimes told me that he lost his heart to
my mother when he heard her sing ; she had a very sweet
voice and an exquisite method.
He was twenty-five when he married, in 183C, and I have
lately read the register, copied verbatiTn from the records of the
French Embassy at Paris, as quoted by Messrs. Merivale & Mar-
zials. My mother was Isabella Gethen Creagh Shawe, daughter
of Colonel Matthew Shawe; her mother was a Creagh.
Another important event happened to my father in 1836: a
second newspaper was started, in which he and his stepfather
were very much concerned. Major Carmichael- Smyth was
chairman of a company formed to publish the Constitutional,
an ultra-Liberal newspaper, that was to have the support of
INTRODUCTION xxxvh
Charles Biiller, Sir William Moles worth, and the Radical party.
By Major Carmichael-Smyth's interest my father, who had a
great many shares in the undertaking, was appointed Paris cor-
respondent, at a salary of £400 a year. It was upon this ap-
pointment that he married. He had met my mother at his
grandmother's — there had been ancient Indian relations between
the families.
A recent book of pictures by Mr. Eyre Crowe, R.A., gives a
charming sketch of the Rue St. Augustin as it was in 1836,
when my father and my mother lived in that quarter. The New
Street of the Little Fields was close by with that Restaurant so
famed for its Bouille-a-baisse. In this same book are to be
found many more of an old friend's remembrances and sketches.
One is of the house in London in which my parents settled down
in 1837, in Great Coram Street, out of Brunswick Square.
The Yellowplush correspondence — one of the earliest of the
author's contributions to literature — must have been written in
Great Coram Street. It appeared in Fraser's Magazine in 1837.
It is the first of his writings that was ever published as a book,
having been brought out, not in England, but in America, in
1838, by Messrs. E. L.Carey and L. A. Hart, of Philadelphia.*
The book was not republished in England until 1841 by Hugh
Cunningham.
I hardly know — nor if I knew, should I care to give here—
the names and the details of the events which suffffested some
of the Yellowplush papers. The history of Mr. Deuceace was
written from life during a very early period of my father's ca-
reer. Nor can one wonder that his views were somewhat grim
at that particular time, and still bore the impress of an expe-
rience lately and very dearly bought.
He was naturally trustful, and even enthusiastic, about peo-
ple who were kind to him ; but, as it seems scarcely necessary
to say, the author of "Vanity Fair" had a great deal of com-
mon-sense, and a very rapid perception of facts when they final-
ly shaped themselves.
As a boy he had lost money at cards to some card-sharpers
who scraped acquaintance with him. He has told us that they
* Mr. W. H. Lambert, of Philadelphia, has kindly sent a copy of this
pretty old-fashioned volume.
xxxviii YELLOWI^LtlSH PAPERS
came and took lodgings opposite to his, on purpose to get hold
of him. He never blinked at the truth, or spared himself ; but
neither did he blind himself as to the real characters of the
people in question, when once he had discovered them. His
villains became curious studies in human nature; he turned
them over in his mind, and he caused Deuceace, Barry Lyndon,
and Ikey Solomons, Esq., to pay back some of their ill-gotten
spoils, in an involuntary but very legitimate fashion, when he put
them into print and made them the heroes of those grim early
histories.
" Major Gahagan " burst into life, boots and all, in Colburn's
New Monthly Magazine for 1838. In a frontispiece to " Comic
Tales and Sketches " are to be found the three portraits of Ma-
jor Gahagan, De la Pluche, and Michael Angelo Titmarsh, arm
in arm — " They are supposed to be marching hand in hand on
the very brink of immortality," says Mr. Titmarsh in his intro-
duction.
Yellowplush, that bird of rare plume, also belongs to this
same early burst of fun and spring-time. Yellowplush contin-
ued his literary efforts for some years ; but as he went up in
the world, he became Jeames de la Pluche, Esq. The longest
lived of the three was Michael Angelo Titmarsh, a life-long
companion.
We know that Haroun al Raschid used to like to wander
about the streets of Bagdad in various disguises, and in the
same way did the author of " Vanity Fair" — although he was
not a Calif — enjoy putting on his various dominos and charac-
ters. None of these are more familiar than that figure we all
know so well, called Michael Angelo Titmarsh. No doubt my
father first made this artist's acquaintance at one of the studios
in Paris. Very soon Mr. Titmarsh's criticisms began to appear
in various papers and magazines. He visited the salons as well
as the exhibitions over here, he drew most of the Christmas
books, and wrote them too. He had a varied career. One
could almost write his life. For a time, as we know, he was an
assistant master at Dr. Birch's Academy. . . . He was first cous-
in to Samuel Titmarsh of the great " Hoggarty Diamond " ; also
he painted in water-colours. . . . To the kingdom of Heaven he
assuredly belongs ! kindly, humorous, delightful little friend ;
INTRODUCTION
XXXIX
DB LA PLUCHE. M. A. TITMARSH. MAJOR GAHAGAN.
xl YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
droll shadow behind which my father loved to shelter himself.
In Mr. Barrie's life of his mother he tells us how she wonders
that he should always write as if he were some one not him-
self. Sensitive people are glad of a disguise, and of a familiar
who will speak their thoughts for them. . . .
From time to time my father returned from Coram Street to
Paris for short visits on business or amusement.
It was in Paris in 1838 that he wrote the following letter to
my mother, part of which I cannot help copying out : —
"... Here have we been two years married and not a sin-
gle unhappy day. Oh, I do bless God for all this happiness
which He has given me. It is so great that I almost tremble
for the future, except that I humbly hope (for what man is cer-
tain about his own weakness and wickedness) our love is strong
enough to withstand any pressure from without, and as it is a
gift greater than any fortune, is likewise one superior to pov-
erty or sickness, or any other worldly evil with which Provi-
dence may visit us. Let us pray, as I trust there is no harm,
that none of these may come upon us ; as the best and wisest
Man in the world prayed that he might not be led into tempta-
tion. ... I think happiness is as good as prayers, and I feel
in my heart a kind of overflowing thanksgiving which is (juitc
too great to describe in writing. This kind of happiness is
like a fine picture, you only see a little bit of it when you arc
close to the canvas, go a little distance and then you sec how
beautiful it is. 1 don't know that I shall have done much
by coming away, except being so awfully glad to come back
again.
"How shall I fill this page — I think by Mr. U. K.'s hackney
coach adventure. He had been to a theatre on the Boulevards,
and was coming home with a lady. It was midnight, no lamps
on the Boulevards, no hackney coaches, and pouring cats and
dogs. At last a man came to hira and asked if he wanted a
coach. Yes, says the cheerful correspondent of the Times, and
in he jumped, he and his fair lady. Well, two men got on the
box, and when after half-an-hour O. R. ventured to open one of
the windows, he found they were driving Heaven knows where,
tearing madly down solitary streets between walls. The more
he cried out, the more the man would not stop ; and he pulled
INTRODUCTION xli
out a penknife, and folding his arm round the waist of Mrs. O.
R., determined to sell his life at a considerable expense. At
this instant, bonheur I — Providence sent a man into that very
street, which before or since was never known to echo with a
mortal footstep. Swift as lightning, the young correspondent
burst open the door of the coach, and bidding the lady follow,
sprang out. Tliey landed in safety. Down came one of the
ruffians from the box, when O. R. with gigantic force seized his
arm, uplifted no doubt to murder the gentleman of the press.
He held him writhing in his iron grip until the stranger ar-
rived, whom seeing, t'other chap on the box flogged his horses
and galloped away in the darkness and solitude. The poor
wretch, the companion of his guilt, now sunk on his knees,
when the stranger, looking at him fixedly and fiercely, drew
from beneath his cloak a . . . This is all. God bless you,
dearest wife."
"Paris, March 20, 1838.
'♦ There is a chance of £350 a year here. Poor 13. is dvincr,
and his place is worth as much ; but then I throw away a very
good position in London, where I can make as much, and a little
fame into the bargain. My game, as far as I can see it, is to
stick to the 7'imes. I have just come from seeing ' Marion
Delorme,' the tragedy of Victor Hugo, and am so sickened and
disgusted with the horrid piece that I have hardly heart to write.
The last act ends with an execution, and you are kept a long hour
listening to the agonies of parting lovers and grim speculations
about head-chopping, dead bodies, coffins, and what not — I am
as sick as if I had taken an emetic.
" I have been writing all day, and finished and despatched an
article for the Times. My next visit will be to the Spanish pict-
ures, the next to Versailles, and on Monday next, please God, I
will be home. . . . To-day I have been to Versailles, and afterwards
to the opera — it was a benefit, and all sorts of oddities from all
sorts of theatres were played — everything intolerably tedious, ex-
cept an act from a very old opera, ' Orpheus,' by Gluck, which
was neither more nor less than sublime. Dupre is the most de-
lightful tenor I ever heard, with a simplicity of voice and method
qnite delicious, as good as Rubini, without his faults, singing
his notes steadily with no trick or catches or quavers and such
xlii YELLOWPLUSH PAPERS
music ; like very fine Mozart, so simple and melodious, that by
all the gods I have never heard anything like it.
" The Versailles gallery is a humbug — a hundred gilded rooms
with looking-glasses and carved ceilings, and 2000 bad pictures
to ornament them."
Readers of the " Paris Sketch Book " will perhaps remember
the striking passage which concludes the paper entitled " Medi-
tations at Versailles."
A. I. R.
THE HISTORY OF
SAMUEL TITMARSH
AND
THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND
THE HISTORY OF
SAMUEL TITMARSH
AND
THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND
CHAPTER I
GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF OUR VILLAGE AND THE FIRST
GLIMPSE OF THE DIAMOND
WHEN I came up to town for my second year, my aunt
Hoggarty made me a present of a diamond-pin ; that is to
say, it was not a diamond-pin then, but a large old-fashioned
locket, of Dublin mamdacture in the year 1795, which the late Mr.
Hoggarty used to sport at the Lord Lieutenant's balls and elsewhere.
He wore it, he said, at the battle of Vinegar Hill, when his club
pigtail saved his head from being taken of}', — but that is neither
here nor there.
Li the middle of the brooch was Hoggarty in the scarlet uniform
of the corps of Fencibles to which he belonged ; around it were
thirteen locks of hair, belonging to a baker's dozen of sisters that
the old gentleman had ; and as all these little ringlets partook of
the family hue of brilliant auburn, Hoggarty's portrait seemed to
the fanciful view like a great fat red round of beef surrounded by
thirteen carrots. These were dished up on a plate of blue enamel,
and it was from the Great Hoggarty Diamond (as we called it
in the family) that the collection of hairs in question seemed as it
were to spring.
My aunt, I need not say, is rich ; and I thought I might be her
heir as well as another. During my month's holiday, she was par-
ticularly i)leased "svith me ; made me drink tea with her often
(though tliere was a certain person in tlie village witli whom on
those golden summer evenings I should have liked to have taken
a stroll in the hayfields) ; promised every time I drank her bohea
4 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
to do something handsome for me when I went back to town, —
nay, three or four times had me to dinner at three, and to whist or
cribbage afterwards. I did not care for the cards ; for tliough we
always played seven hours on a stretch, and I always lost, my losings
were never more than nineteenpence a night : but there was some
infernal sour black-currant wine, that the old lady always pro-
duced at dinner, and with the tray at ten o'clock, and which I
dared not refuse ; though upon my word and honour it made me
very unwell.
Well, I thought after all this obsequiousness on my part, and
my aunt's repeated promises, that the old lady would at least make
me a present of a score of guineas (of which she had a power in the
drawer) ; and so convinced was I that some such ])resent was in-
tended for me, that a young laily by the name of Miss Mary Smith,
with whom I had conversed on the subject, actually netted me a
little green silk purse, which she gave me (behind Hicks's hayrick,
as you turn to thv. right up Churchyard Lane) — which she gave me,
I say, wra])ped up in a bit of silver paper. There was something
in the purse, too, if the truth must be known. First there was a
thick curl of the glossiest blackest hair you ever saw in your life, and
next there was threei)ence : that is to .say, the half of a silver
sixpence hanging by a little necklace of blue riband. Ah, but I
knew where the other half of the sixpence was, and envied that
happy bit of silver !
The last day of my holiday I w;\s obliged, of course, to devote
to Mrs. Hoggarty. ]\Iy aunt was excessively gracious ; and by way
of a treat brought out a couple of bottles of the black currant, of
which she made me drink the greater part. At night when all the
ladies assembled at her jiarty had gone ort' with their pattens and
their maids, Mrs. Hoggarty, who had made a signal to me to stay,
first blew out three of the wax candles in the drawing-room, and
taking the fourth in her hand, went and unlocked her escritoire.
I can tell you my heart beat, though I pretended to look quite
unconcerned.
" Sam, my dear," said she, as she w;is fumbling with her keys,
"take anotlier ghiss of Rosolio " (that Avas the name by which she
baptized the cursed beverage) : " it will do you good." I took it,
and you might have seen my hand tremble as the bottle went click
— click against the glass. By the time I had swallowed it, the old
lady had finished her operations at the bureau, and was coming
towards me, the wax candle bobbing in one hand and a large parcel
in the other.
" Now's the time," thought I.
"Samuel, my dear nephew," said she, "your first name you
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 5
received fi'om your sainted uncle, my blessed husband ; and of all
my nephews and nieces, you are the one whose conduct in life has
most pleased me."
When you consider that my aunt herself was one of seven
married sisters, that all the Hoggarties were married in Ireland and
mothers of numerous children, I must say that the compliment my
aunt paid me was a very handsome one.
"Dear aunt," says I, in a slow agitated voice, "I have often
heard you say there were seventy -three of us in all, and believe me
I do think your high opinion of me very complimentary indeed : I'm
unworthy of it — indeed I am."
" As for those odious Irish people," says my aunt, rather
sharply, " don't speak of them ; I hate them, and every one of their
n\others " (the fact is, there had been a lawsuit aliout Hoggarty's
property) ; " but of all my other kindred, you, Samuel, have l)een
the most dutiful and aftectionate to me. Your employers in London
give the best accounts of your regularity and good conduct. Though
you have had eighty pounds a year (a liberal salary), you have not
spent a shilling more than your income, as other young men would ;
and you have devoted your month's holidays to your old aunt, who,
I assure you, is grateful."
" Oh, ma'am ! " said I. It was all that I could utter.
" Samuel," continued she, " I promised you a i^resent, and here
it is. I first thought of giving you money ; but you are a regular
lad ; and don't want it. You are above money, dear Samuel. I
give you what I value most in life — the p, — the po, the po-ortrait
of my sainted Hoggarty " {tears), " set in the locket which contains
the valuable diamond that you have often heard me speak of. Wear
it, dear Sam, for my sake ; and think of that angel in heaven, and
of your dear Aunt Susy."
She put the machine into my hands : it was about the size of the
lid of a shaving-box : and I should as soon have thought of wear-
ing it as of wearing a cocked-hat and pigtail. I was so disgusted
and disappointed that I really could not get out a single word.
When I recovered my presence of mind a little, I took the
locket out of the bit of ]iaper (the locket indeed ! it was as liig as
a barndoor padlock), and slowly put it into my shirt. " Thank
you, aunt," said I, with admirable raillery. " I shall always value
this present for the sake of you, who gave it me ; and it will recall
to me my uncle, and my tliirteen aunts in Ireland."
" I don't want you to wear it in that way ! " shrieked Mrs.
Hoggarty, "with the hair of those odious carroty women. You
must have their hair removed."
" Then the locket will be siwiled, aunt."
6 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
" Well, sir, never mind the locket ; have, it set afresh."
" Or suppose," said I, " I put aside the setting altogether : it is
a little too large for the present fashion ; and have the portrait of
my uncle framed and ])laced over my chimney-piece, next to yours.
It's a sweet miniature."
" That miniature," said Mrs. Hoggarty solemnly, " was the
great Midcahy's chef-d'oeuvre^^ (pronounced shy deivver, a favourite
word of my aunt's ; being, wuth the words boiuftong and ally mode
de Parry, the extent of her French vocabulary). " You know the
dreadful story of that poor poor artist. When he had finished that
wonderful likeness for the late Mrs. Hoggarty of Castlo Hoggarty,
county Mayo, she wore it in her bosom at the Loril Lieutenant's
ball, where she played a game of piquet with the Commander-m-
Oliief. What could have made her put the hair of her vulg-ar
daughters round Mick's portrait, I cant think ; but so it was, as
you see it this day. 'Madam,' says the Commander-in-Chief, *if
that is not my friend Mick Hi^ggarty, I'm a Dutchman ! ' Those
were his Lordshi|)'s very words. Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty
took off the brooch and showed it to him.
" ' Who is the artist 1 ' says my Lord. ' It's the most wonderful
likeness I ever saw in my life ! '
" ' Mulcahy,' says she, ' of Ormond's Quay.'
"'Begad, I ]iatroni.se him I ' sjiys my Lord; but presently his
face darkened, and he gave back the picture with a dissatisfied air.
'There is one fault in that portrait,' said his Lordsliip, who was
a rigid disciplinarian ; ' and I wonder that my friend Mick, as a
military man, should have overlooked it.'
" 'What's that?' says Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty.
"'Madam, ho has been ])ainted without his sword-belt!'
And he took up the cards again in a pa.'^sion, and finished the game
without saying a single word.
"The news was carried to Mr. Mulcahy the next day, and that
unfortunate artist went mad immediately ! He had set his whole
reputation upon tliis miniature, and declared that it should be fault-
less. Such was the effect of the announcement upon his susceptible
heart ! When I\Irs. Hoggarty died, your uncle to(jk the ]»ortrait
and always wore it himself His sisters said it was for tlie sake
of the diamond ; whereas, ungratefid things ! it was merely on
account of their hair, and his love for the fine arts. As for the
poor artist, my dear, some i)eople said it was the profuse use of
spirit that brought on delirium tremens ; but I don't believe it.
Take another glass of Rosolio."
The telling of this story always put my aunt into great good-
humour, and she promised at the end of it to pay for the ne\v
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 7
setting of the diamond ; desirincc me to take it on my arrival in
London to tlie great jeweller, I\Ir. Polonius, and send her the bill.
" The fact is," said she, " that the goold in which the thing is set
is worth five guineas at the very least, and you can have the
diamond reset for two. However, keep the remainder, dear Sam,
and buy yourself Avhat you please with it."
With this the old lady bade me adieu. The clock was striking
twelve as I walked down the village, for the story of Mulcahy
always took an hour in the telling, and I went away not quite .so
down-hearted as when the present was first made to me. "After
all," thought I, "a diamond-pin is a handsome thing, and will give
me a distingue air, though my clothes be never so shabljy " — and
shabby they were without any doubt. " Well," I said, " three
guineas, which I shall have over, will buy me a couple of pairs of
what-d'ye-call-'ems ; " of which, entre nous, I was in great want,
having just then done growing, whereas my pantaloons were made
a good eighteen months before.
Well, I walked down the village, my hands in my breeches
pockets ; I had poor Mary's purse there, having removed the little
things which she gave me the day before, and placed them — never
mind where : but look you, in those days I had a heart, and a
warm one too. I had Mary's purse ready for my aunt's dona-
tion, which never came, and with my own little stock of money
besides, that Mrs. Hoggarty's cai'd parties had lessened by a good
five-and-twenty shillings, I calculated that, after paying my lare,
I should get to town with a couple of seven-shilling pieces in my
I walked down the village at a deuce of a pace ; so quick that,
if the tiling had been possible, I should have overtaken ten o'clock
that had passed by me two hours ago, when I was listening to
Mrs. H.'s long stories over her terrible R(jsolio. The truth is, at
ten I had an appointment under a certain person's wind(iw, who
was to have been looking at the moon at that hour, with her pretty
quilled nightcap on, and her blessed hair in papers.
There was the window shut, and not so much as a candle in it ;
and though I hemmed and hawed, and whistled over the garden
paling, and sang a song of which Somebody Avas very Ibnd, and
even threw a pebble at the window, which hit it exactly at the
opening of the lattice, — I woke no one except a great brute of a
house-dog, that yelled, and howled, and bounced so at me over the
rails, that I thought every moineiit he would have had my nose
between his teeth.
So I was obliged to go off as quickly as might be ; and the next
morning mamma and my sisters made breakfast for me at four, and
8 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
at five came the " True Blue " light six-inside post-coach to London^
and I got up on the roof without having seen Mary SmitL
As we passed the house, it did seem as if the window curtain
in her room was drawn aside just a little bit. Certainly the
window was open, and it had been shut the night before : but away
went the coach ; and the \-illage, cottage, and the churchyard, and
Hicks's hayricks were soon out of sight.
•
" My hi, what a pin ! " said a stable-boy, who was smoking a
cigar, to the guard, looking at me and putting his finger to his
nose
The fact is, that I had never undressed since my aimt's party ;
and being uneasy in mind and having all my clothes to pack up,
and thinking of something else, had quite forgotten Mrs. Hoggarty's
brooch, which I had stuck into my shirt-frill the night before.
CHAPTER II
TELLS HOW THE DL4M0ND IS BROUGHT UP TO LONDON, AND
PRODUCES WONDERFUL EFFECTS BOTH IN THE CITY AND
AT THE WEST END
THE circumstances recorded in this storj' took place some score
of years ago, when, as the reader may remember, there was
a great mania in the City of London for estabhshing com-
panies of all sorts ; by which many people made pretty fortunes.
I was at this period, as the truth must be known, thirteenth
clerk of twenty-four young gents who did the immense business of
the Independent West Diddlesex Fire and Life Insurance Company,
at their splendid stone mansion in Cornhill. ]\Iamma had sunk a
sum of four hundred pounds in the purchase of an annuity at this
office, which paid her no less than six-and-thirty pounds a year,
when no other company in London woidd give her more than
twenty-foiu". The chairman of the director was the great Mr,
Brough, of the house of Brough and Hoff, Crutched Friars, Turkey
merchants. It was a new house, but did a tremendous business in
the fig and sponge way, and more in the Zante currant line than
any other firm in the City.
Brough was a great man among the Dissenting connection, and
you saw his name for hundreds at the head of every charitable
society patronised by those good people. He had nine clerks residing
at his office in Crutched Friars ; he would not take one without a
certificate from the schoolmaster and clerg>Tnan of his native place,
strongly vouching for his morals and doctrine ; and the places were
«o run after, that he got a premium of four or five hundred pounds
■with each yoimg gent, whom he made to slave for ten hours a day,
and to whom in compensation he taught all the mysteries of the
Turkish business. He was a great man on 'Change, too ; and our
young chaps used to hear from the stockbrokers' clerks (we commonly
dined together at the "Cock and "Woolpack," a respectable house,
where you get a capital cut of meat, bread, vegetables, cheese, half
a pint of porter, and a penny to the waiter, for a shilhng) — the
yoimg stockbrokers used to tell us of immense bargains in Spanish,
Greek, and Columbians, that Brough made, Hoff had nothing to
lo THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
do with them, but stopped at home minding exclusively the business
of the house. He was a young chap, very quiet and steady, of the
Quaker persuasion, and had been taken into partnership by Brough
for a matter of thirty thousand pounds : and a very good bargain
too. I was told in the strictest confidence that the house one year
with another divided a good scA^en thousand pounds : of which
Brough had half, Hoft" two-sixths, and the other sixth went to old
Tudlow, who had been Mr. Brough's clerk before the new partner-
ship began. Tu<llow always went about very shabby, and we
thought him an old miser. One of our gents, Bob Swnnney by
name, used to say that Tudlow's share was all nonsense, and that
Brough had it all ; but Bob was always too knowing by half, used
to wear a green cutaway coat, and had his free admission to Covent
Garden Theatre. He was always talking down at the shop, as we
called it (it vviisn't a shop, but as si)lendid an office as any in Cornhill)
— he was always talking about Vestris and Miss Tree, and singing
" The bramble, the bramble,
The jolly jolly bramble ! "
one of Charles Kemble's famous songs in " Maid Marian " ; a play
that wa.s all the rage then, taken from a famous story-book by one
Peacock, a clerk in the India House; and a precious good place
he has too.
When Brough heard how Master Swinney abused him, and had
his admission to tlie theatre, he came one day down to tlie office
where we all were, four-and-twenty of us, and made one of the most
beautiful speeches I ever heard in my life. He said that for slander
he did not care, contmnely Avas the lot of every public man who had
austere princi[)les of liis own, and acted by them austerely ; but
what he did care for was the character of every single gentleman
forming a part of the Independent West Diddlesex Association.
The welfiire of thousands was in their keeping ; millions of money
were daily passing tlirougli their hands; the City~-the country
looked upon them for order, honesty, and good example. And if he
found amongst those whom he considered as his children — those
whom he loved as his own flesh and blood — that that order was
(lejiarted from, that that regularity was not maintained, that that
good example was not kept up (Mr. B. always spoke in thi;^
em])hatit' way) --if he found his children departing from the wliole-
sonie rules of morality, religion, and decorum — if he found in liigh
or low — in the head clerk at six hundred a year down to the porter
who cleaned the stejis — if he found the slightest taint of dissipation,
he would cast tlie oftender from him — yea, though he were his own
son, he would cast him from him !
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND ii
As he spoke this, Mr. Brough burst into tears ; and we who
didn't know what was coming, looked at each other as ])ale as
parsnips : all except Swinney, who was twelfth clerk, and made
believe to whistle. Wlien Mr. B. had wiped his eyes and recovered
himself, he turned round ; and oh, how my heart thumped as he
looked me ftdl in the face ! How it w^as relieved, though, when he
shouted out in a thundering voice — ■
" Mr. Robert Swinney ! "
" Sir to you," says Swinney, as cool as possible, and some of the
chaps began to titter.
" Mr. Swinney ! " roared Brough, in a voice still bigger than
before, " when you came into this office — this fiimily, sir, for such it
is, as I am proud to say — you foimd three-and-twenty as pious and
well-regulated young men as ever laboureil together — as ever had
confided to them the wealth of this mighty capital and fomous
empire. You found, sir, sobriety, regularity, and decorum ; no
profane songs were uttered in this place sacred to — to business ; no
slanders were whispered against the heads of the establishment — ■
but over them I jiass : I can aff'ord, sir, to pass theni by — no
worldly conversation or foul jesting disturbed the attention of these
gentlemen, or desecrated the peaceful scene of their labours. You
found Christians and gentlemen, sir ! "
"I paid for my place like the rest," said Swinney. "Didn't
my governor take sha 1 "
" Silence, sir ! Your worthy father did take shares in this
establishment, which will yield him one day an immense profit.
He did take shares, sir, or you never would have been here. I
glory in saying that every one of my young friends around me has a
fiither, a brotJier, a dear relative or friend, who is connected in a
similar way with our glorious enterprise ; and that not one of them
is there but has an interest in jn-ocuring, at a liberal commission,
other persons to join the ranks of our Association. But, sir, I am
its chief. You will find, sir, your appointment signed by me ; and
in like manner, I, John Brough, annul it. Go from us, sir ! — leave
us — quit a family that can no longer receive you in its bosom ! Mr.
Swinney, I have wept — I have prayed, sir, before I came to this
determination ; I have taken counsel, sir, and am resolved. Depart
from out of us I "
" Not wdthout three months' salary, though, Mr. B. : that cock
won't fight ! "
" They shall be paid to your father, sir."
" My father be hanged ! I tell you what, Brough, I'm of age :
and if you don't pay me my salary, I'll arrest you, — by Jingo, I
will ! I'll have you in c^uod, or my name's not Bob Swinney ! "
12 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
" Make out a cheque, Mr. Roimdhand, for the three months!
salary of this perverted young man."
" Twenty-one pun' five, Roundhand, and nothing for the stamip ! "
cried out that audacious S^^'inney. " Tliere it is, sir, ?-e-ceipted.
You needn't cross it to my banker's. And if any of you gents like
a glass of punch this evening at eight o'clock, Bob Swinney's your
man, and nothing to pay. If Mr. Brough ironld do me the honour
to come in and take a whack? Come, don't say no, if you'd
rather not ! "
We couldn't stand this impudence, and all burst out laughing
like mad.
" Leave tlie room ! " yelled Mr. Brough, whose face had turned
quite blue ; and so Bob took his white hat off the peg, and strolled
away with his " tile," as he called it, very much on one side. When
he was gone, Mr. Brough gave us another lecture, by which we all
determined to profit ; and going up to Roundhand's desk put his
arm round his neck, and looked over the leilger.
" What money has been paid in to-day, Roundhand 1 " he said,
in a very kind way.
" The widow, sir, came with her money ; nine lumdred and
four ten and six — .say £904, 10s. 6d. Captain Sparr, sir, i)aid his
shares up ; grumbles, though, and says he's no more : fifty shares,
two iiistalnit'uts — three fifties, sir."
" He's always gnunbling ! "
" He says he has not a shilling to bless himself with until our
dividend day."
" Any more ? "
Mr. Roundhand went tlirough the book, and made it up nineteen
luindrod jxiiuids in all. We wore doing a famous business now :
though when I came into the office, we uscil to sit, and laugh, and
joke, and read the newspapers all day ; bustling into our seats
whenever a stray customer came. Brough never cared alxiut our
laughing and singing then, and was hand and glove with Bob
Swinney ; but that was in early times, before we were well in
harness.
" Nineteen hundred pounds, and a thousand pounds in shares.
Bravo, Roundhand — bravo, gentlemen ! Remember, every share
you bring in brings you five per cent, dowm on the nail ! Look
to your friends — stick to your desks — be regular — I hope none
of you forget church. Who takes Mr. Swinney's place 1"
" Mr. Samuel Titmarsh, sir."
" Mr. Titmarsh, I congratvdate you. Give me your hand, sir :
you are now twelfth clerk of this Association, and your salary is
consequently increased five pounds a year. How is your worthy
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 13
mother, sir — your dear and excellent parent? In good health, I
trust ? And long — long, I fervently pray, may this office continue
to pay her annuity ! Remember, if she has more money to lay out,
there is higher interest than the last for her, for she is a year older ;
and five per cent, for you, my boy ! Why not you as well as
another 1 Yomig men will be young men, and a ten-pound note
does no harm. Does it, Mr. Abednego 1 "
" Oh no ! " says Abednego, who»was third clerk, and who was
the chap tliat informed against Swinney ; and he began to laugh, as
indeed we all did whenever Mr. Brough made anything like a joke :
not that they were jokes ; only we used to know it by his face.
"Oh, by-the-bye, Roundhand," says he, "a word with you on
business. Mrs. Brough »wants to know why the deuce you never
come down to Fulhani."
" Law, that's very polite ! " said Mr. Roundhand, quite pleased.
" Name your day, my boy ! Say Saturday, and bring your night-
cap with you."
" You're very polite, I'm sure. I shoidd be delighted beyond
anything, but "
" But — no buts, my boy ! Hark ye ! the Chancellor of tlie
Exchequer does me the honour to dine with us, and I want you to
see him ; for the truth is, I have bragged about you to his Lordship
as tlie best actuary in the three kingdoms."
Roundhand could not refuse such an invitation as that, though
he had told us how j\Ir.s. R. and he were going to pass Saturday and
Sunday at Putney ; and we who knew what a Hfe the poor fellow
led, were sure that the head clerk Avould be prettily scolded by his
lady when she heard what was going on. She disliked Mrs. Brough
very much, that was tlie fact ; because Mrs. B. kept a carriage,
and said she didn't know where Pentonville was, and couldn't call on
JNIrs. Roundhand. Though, to be sure, her coachman might have
found out the way.
" And oh, Roundhand ! " continued our governor, " draw a cheque
for seven hundred, will you ! Come, don't stare, man ; I'm not going
to run away ! That's right, — seven hundred — and ninety, say, while
you're about it ! Our board meets on Saturday, and never fear I'll
account for it to them before I drive you down. We shall take up
the Chancellor at Whitehall."
So saying, Mr. Brough folded up the cheque, and shaking hands
vrith Mr. Roundhand very cordially, got into his carriage-and-four
(he always drove four horses even in the City, where it's so difficult),
which was waiting at the office-door for him.
Bob Swinney used to say that he charged two of the horses to
the Company ; but there was never believing half of what that Bob
4
14 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
said, he used to laugh and joke so. I don't know how it was, but
I and a gent by the name of Hoskins (eleventh clerk), who lived
together with me in Salisbury Square, Fleet Street ■ — where we
occupied a very genteel t^\'o-pair — founil our flute duet rather tire-
some that evening, and as it was a very fine night, strolled out for
a walk West End way. When we arrived opposite Covent Garden
Theatre we found ourselves close to tlie " Globe Tavern," and recol-
lected Bob Swinncy's hospitabloi invitation. We never fancied that
he liad meant the invitation in earnest, but thought we might as
well look in : at any rate tlicre could lie no harm in doing so.
Tliere, to be sure, in the back drawing-room, where he said he
would be, we found Bob at the head of a table, and in the midst of
a gi'eat smoke of cigars, and eighteen of ourtgents rattling and bang-
ing away at the tal)le Mith the bottoms of their glasses.
What a shout they made a.s we came iu ! " Hurray ! " says Bob,
" here's two more ! Two more chairs, Mary, two more tumblers,
two more hot waters, and two more goes of gin ! Who would have
thought of seeing Tit, in the name of goodness 1 "
" Why," said I, " we oidy came in by the merest chance."
At this Avord there Wiis another tremendous roar : and it is a
positive fact, that every man of the eighteen had said he came Ity
chance! However, chance gave us a very jovial niglit ; and tliat
hospitable Bob Swiuuey paid every shilling of the score.
"Gentlemen!" says he, a.s he jiaid tiie bill, "I'll give you the
heiilth of John Brough, Esijuire, and thanks to him for the present
of £2\, 5s. which he made me this morning. What do I say —
£21, 5s. ? That and a montii's salary that I should have had to
pay — forfeit - down on the nail, Viy Jingo! for leaving the shop, as
I intended to do to-morrow morning. I've got a i)lace — a tiptop
place, I tell you. Five guineas a week, six jouraeys a year, my
own liorse and gig, and to travel in the West of England in oil and
spermaceti. Here's confusion to ga.s, and the health of Messrs,
Gaiin & Co., of Thames Street, in the City of London ! "
I have been thus jiarticular in my account of the West Diddlesex
Insurance OtHce, and of Mr. Brough, the managing director (thoui,di
the real names are neitlier given to the othce nor to tiie chairman,
as you may be sure), because the fate of me and my diamond pin
was mysteriously boimd u]) with both : a.s I am about to show.
You must know that I was rather res])ected among our gents
at the West Liddlesex, because I came of a better family than mo.st
of them ; had received a classical education ; and especially because
I had a rich aunt, Mrs. Hoggarty, about whom, as must be con-
fessed, I used to boast a good deal. There is no harm in being
respected in this world, as I have found out ; and if you dont
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 15
brag a little for yourself, depend on it there is no person of your
acquaintance who 'nill tell the world of yoiu- merits, and take the
trouble off your hands.
So that wlien I came back to the office after my visit at home,
and took my seat at the old day-book opposite the dingy window
that looks into Birchin Lane, I jtretty soon let the fellows know
that Mrs. Hoggarty, though she had not given me a large sum of
n^oney, as I expected — indeed, I had iiromised a dozen of them a
treat down the river, should the promised riches have come to me
• — I let them know, I say, that thoui^h my aunt had not given me
any money, she had given me a splendid diamond, worth at least
thirty guineas, and that some day I would sport it at the shop.
" Oh, let's see it ! " says Abcdnego, whose father was a mock-
jewel and gold-lace merchant in Hanway Yard ; and I promised
that he should have a sight of it as soon as it was set. As my
pocket-money was run out too (by coach-hire to and from home,
five shillings to our maid at home, ten to my aunt's maid and man,
five-aud-twenty shillings lost at whist, as I said, and fifteen-and-six
paid for a silver scissors for the dear little fingers of Somel)ody),
Roundhand, who was very good-natured, asked me to dine, and
advanciid me £7, Is. 8d., a month's salary. It was at Roundhand's
house, Myddelton Square, Pentnnville, over a fillet of veal and
bacon and a glass of port, that I learned and saw how his wife
ill-treated him ; as I liave told l)efore. Poor fellow ! — we under-
clerks all thought it was a fine tiling to sit at a desk by one's self,
and have £50 per month, as Roundhand had ; but I've a notion
that Hoskins and I, blowing duets on the flute together in our
second floor in Salisbury Square, were a great deal more at ease
than our head — and more in kariiioity, too ; though we made sad
work of the music, certainly.
One day Gus Hoskins and I asked leave from Roundhand to be
ott' at three o'clock, as we had particular business at the West Entl.
He knew it was about the gi-eat Hoggarty diamond, and gave us
permission ; so off" we set. When Ave reached St. Martin's Lane,
Gus got a cigar, to give himself as it were a distiiujue air, and
putted at it all the way up the Lane, and through the alleys into
Coventry Street, where Mr. Polonius's shop is, as everybody knows.
The door was open, and a number of carriages full of ladies were
drawing up and setting down. (Jus kept liis hands in his pockets
— trousers were worn very full then, with large tucks, and pigeon-
holes for your boots, or Bluchers, to come through (the fashionables
wore boots, but we chaps in the City, on £80 a year, contented
ourselves with Bluchers) ; and as Gus stretched out his pantaloons
as wide as he could from his hips, and kept blowing away at his
i6 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
cheroot, and clamping with the iron heels of his boots, and had
very large whiskers for so young a man, he really looked quite the
genteel tiling, and was taken by everybody to be a person of
consideration.
He would not come into the shop though, but stood staring
at the gold pots and kettles in the window outside. I went in ;
and after a little hemming and hawing — for I had never been at
such a fashionable place before — asked one of the gentlemen to let
me speak to Mr. Polonius.
" What can I do for you, sir ? " says Mr. Polonius, who was
standing close by, as it happened, serving three ladies, — a very old
one and two yoiuig ones, who were examining pearl necklaces very
attentively.
" Sir," said I, producing my jewel out of my coat-jxtcket, " this
jewel has, I believe, been in yoiu* house before : it belonged to my
aunt, Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty." The old lady standing
near looked round as I spoke.
"I s(»ld her a guld ncck-chaii' and repeating watch in the year
1795," said Mr. Polonius, who made it a point to recollect every-
thing; "and a silver punch-ladle to the Captain. How is the
Major — Colonel — General — eh, sir? "
"The General," said I, "I am soiTy to say" — though I was
fjuite proud that this man of fashion should address me so — " Mr.
Hoggarty is — no more. My aunt has made me a i)resent, however,
of this — this trinket — which, as you see, contains her husltands
portrait, that I will thank you, sir, to preserve for me very carefully ;
and she wishes that you would set this diamond neatly."
" Neatly and handsomely, of course, sir."
" Neatly, in the present fiushion ; and send down the account
to her. There is a great deal of gold about the trinket, for which,
of course, you Avill make an allowance."
" To the liust fraition of a sixpence," Siiys Mr. Polonius, bowing,
and looking at the jewel. " It's a wonderful piece of goods,
certainly," said he ; " though the diamond's a neat little bit,
certainly. Do, my Lady, look at it. The thing is of Irish manii-
facture, bears the stamp of '95, and will recall perhaps the times of
yoiu: Ladyship's e;irliest youth."
"Get ye out, Mr. Polonius!" said the old lady, a little wizen-
faced old lady, with her face |Hickered up in a million of ^^Tinkles.
" How dar you, sir, to t^dk such nonsense to an old woman like
me? Wasn't I fifty years old in '95, and a grandmother in '96?"
She put out a ])air of withered trembling hands, took up the locket,
examined it for a minute, and then burst out laughing : " As I hve,
it's the great Hoggarty diamond 1 "
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 17
Good heavens ! what was this talisman that had come into my
possession 1
" Look, girls," continued the old lady : " this is the great jew'l
of all Ireland. This red-faced man in the middle is poor Mick
Hoggarty, a cousin of mine, who was in love witli me in the year
'84, when I had just lost your poor dear grandpapa. These thirteen
sthreamers of red hair represent his thirteen celebrated sisters, —
Biddy, Minny, Thedy, Widdy (short for Williamina), Freddy, Izzy,
Tizzy, Mysie, Grizzy, Polly, Dolly, Nell, and Bell — all married, all
ugly, and all carr'ty hair. And of which are you the son, young
man ? — though, to do you justice, you're not like the family."
Two pretty young ladies turned two pretty pairs of black eyes
at me, and waited for an answer : which they Avould have had, only
the old lady began rattling on a hundred stories about the thirteen
ladies above named, and all their lovers, all their disappointments,
and all the duels of Mick Hoggarty. She was a chronicle of fifty-
years-old scandal. At last she was interrupted by a violent fit of
coughing ; at the conclusion of wl.ich Mr. Polonius very respectfully
asked me where he should send the pin, and whether I would like
the hair kept.
" No," says I, " never mind the hair."
"And the pin, sirT'
I had felt ashamed about telling my addi-ess : " But, hang it ! "
thought I, " why should 1 1 —
• A king can make a belted knight,
A marquess, duke, and a' that ;
An honest man's abune his might—
Gude faith, he canna fa' that.'
Why need I care about telling these ladies where I live ? "
"Sir," says I, "have the goodness to send the parcel, when
done, to Mr. Titmarsh, No. 3 Bell Lane, Salisbury Square, near
St. Bride's Church, Fleet Street. Ring, if you please, the two-
pair bell."
" What, sir 1 " said Mr. Polonius.
"Hivat!" shrieked the old lady. "Mr. Hwat? Mais, ma
chbre, c'est impayable. Come along— here's the carr'age ! Give
me your arm, Mr. Hwat, and get inside, and tell me all about your
thirteen aunts."
She seized on my elbow and hobbled through the shop as fast
as possible ; the young ladies following her, laughing.
"Now, jump in, do you hear?" said she, pokmg her sharp
nose out of the window.
" I can't, ma'am," says I ; " I have a friend."
i8 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
"Pooh, pooh! send 'um to the juice, and jump in!" And
before ahnost I could say a word, a great powdered fellow in yeUow-
plush breeches pushed me up the steps and banged the door to.
I looked just for one minute as the barouche drove away at
Hoskins, and never shall forget his figure. There stood Gus, his
mouth wide open, his eyes staring, a smoking cheroot in his hand,
wondering -mih all his might at the strange thing that had just
happened to me.
" Who is that Titmarsh ? " says Gus : " there's a coronet on the
carriage, by Jingo ! "
CHAPTER III
HOIF THE POSSESSOR OF THE DIAMOND IS WHISKED INTO A
MAGNIFICENT CHARIOT, AND HAS YET FURTHER GOOD
LUCK
I SAT on the back seat of the carriage, near a very nice young
lady, about my dear Mary's age — that is to say, seventeen and
three-quarters ; and opjiosite us sat the old Countess and her
other granddaughter — handsome too, but ten years older. I re-
collect I had on that day my blue coat and brass buttons, nankeen
trousers, a white sprig waistcoat, and one of Dando's silk hats, that
had just come in in the year '22, and looked a great deal more
glossy than the best Ijcaver.
"And who was that hidjus manster" — that was the way her
Ladyship jjronounced, — "that ojous vulgar wretch, with the iron
heels to his boots, and the big mouth, and the imitation goold neck-
chain, who steered at us so as we got into the carr'age 1 "
How she should have known that Gus's chain was mosaic, I
can't tell ; but so it was, and we had Iwuglit it for five-and-twenty
and sixpence only the week before at M'Phail's, in St. Paul's
Churchyard. But I did not like to hear my friend abused, and so
si)oke out for him —
" Ma'am," says I, " that young gentleman's name is Augustus
Hoskins. We live together; and a better or more kind-hearted
fellow does not exist."
"You are quite right to stand up for your friends, sir," said
the second lady ; whose name, it appears, wtis Lady Jane, but
whom the grandmamma called Lady Jene.
"Well, upon me canscience, so he is now. Lady Jene; and
T like sper't in a young man. So his name is Hoskins, is if? I
know, my dears, all the Hoskinses in England. There are the
Lincolnshire Hoskinses, the Shropshire Hoskinses : they say the
Admiral's daughter, Bell, was in love with a black footman, or
boatswain, or some such thing ; but the world's so censorious.
There's old Doctor Hoskins of Bath, who attended poor dear Drum
in the quinsy ; and poor dear old Fred Hoskins, the gouty General :
X remember him as thin as a lath in the year '84, and as active
20 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
as a harlequin, and in love with me — oh, how he was in love
with me ! "
"You seem to have had a host of admirers in those davs,
grandmamma ? " said Lady Jane.
" Hundreds, my dear, — hundreds of thousands. I was the toast
of Bath, and a great beauty, too : Avould you ever have thought
it now, upon your conscience and without flattery, Mr.-a-AVhat-d'ye-
call-'im 1 "
" Indeed, ma'am, I never should," I answered, for the old lady
was as ugly as possible ; and at my saying this the two young
ladies began screaming with laughter, and I saw the two great-
whiskered footmen grinning over the back i»f the carriage.
" Upon my word, you're mighty candiil, Mr. What's-your-name
— mighty candid indeed ; but I like candour in yoimg people.
But a Ijeauty I wa.s. Just ask your friend's uncle the General.
He's one of the Lincolnshire Hoskinses — I knew he wjis by the
strong family likeness. Is he the cMcst son 1 It's a pretty property,
though sadly encuml)ored ; for old Sir George was the diwle of
a man — a friend of Hanbury Williams, and Lyttlcton, antl those
horrid, monstrou.s, ojous i)Coi)lc ! How umch will he have now,
mister, when the Admiral dies?"
" Why, ma'am, I can't say ; but the Admiral is not my friend's
father."
"Not his father? — but he is, 1 tell you, anil I'm never wrong.
Who is his father, then ? "
"Ma'am, Gus's father's a leatherseller in Skinner Street, Snow
Hill — a very respectable house, ma'am. But Gus is only third
son, and so can't expect a great share in the [troperty."
The two young ladies smiled at this — the old lady said "Hwat?"
"I like you, sir," Lady Jane said, "for not being ashamed of
your friends, whatever their rank of life may be. Shall we have
the pleasure of setting you down an^'wherc, Mr. Titmarsh 1 "
" Noways particular, my La<ly," says I. " We have a holiday
at our office to-<lay — at least Roundhand gave me and Gus leave ;
and I shall be very happy, indeed, to take a drive in the Park,
if it's no offence."
" I'm sure it will give us — infinite pleasure," said Lady Jane ;
though rather in a grave way.
" Oh, that it will ! " sjxys Lady Fanny, clapping her hands :
"won't it, grandmamma? And after we have been in the Park,
we can walk in Kensington Gardens, if INIr. Titmarsh will be good
enough to accompany us."
" Indeed, Fanny, we will do no such thing," says La<ly Jane.
*' Indeed, but we will, though ! " shrieked out Lady Drum
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 21
•'Ain't I (lying to know everything about his uncle and thirteen
aunts? and you're all chattering so, you young women, that not
a blessed syllable will you allow me or my young friend here to
speak."
Lady Jane gave a shrug with her shoulders, and did not say
a single word more. Lady Fanny, who was as gay as a young
kitten (if I may be allowed so to speak of the aristocracy), lauglied,
and bluslied, and giggled, and seemed quite to enjoy her sister's
ill-lmmour. And the Countess began at once, and entered into
the history of the thirteen Misses Hoggarty, which was not near
finished when we entered the Park.
When there, you can't think what hundreds of gents on horse-
back came to the carriage and talked to the ladies. They had their
joke for Lady Drum, who seemed to be a character in her way ;
their bow for Lady Jane; and, the young ones especially, their
compliment for Lady Fanny.
Though she bowed and blushed, as a young lady should, Lady
Fanny seemed to be thinking of something else ; for she kept her
head out of the carriage, looking eagerly among the horsemen, as if
she expected to see somebody. Aha ! my Lady Fanny, / knew
what it meant when a young pretty lady like you was absent,
and on the look-out, and only half answered the questions put to
her. Let alone Bam Titmarsli — he knows Avhat Somebody means
as well as another, I warrant. As I saw these manoeuvres going
on, I could not help just giving a wink to Lady Jane, as nuich
as to say I knew what was what. " I guess the young lady is
looking for Somebody," says L It was then hei' turn to look
queer, I assure you, and she blushed as red as scarlet; but after
a minute, the good-natured little thing looked at her sister, and
both the young ladies put their handkerchiefs up to their faces,
and began laughing — laughing as if I had said the funniest thing in
the world.
" II est charmant, votre monsieur." said Lady Jane to her grand-
mamma; and on which I bowed, and said, "Madame, vous me faites
beaucou]) d'honneur : " for I know the French language, and was
pleased to find that these good ladies had taken a liking to me. "I'm
a poor humble lad, ma'am, not used to London society, and do really
feel it quite kind of you to take me by the hand so, and give me a
drive in your fine carriage."
At this minute a gentleman on a black horse, with a pale face
and a tuft to his chin, came riding up to the carriage ; and I knew
by a little start that Lady Fanny gave, and by her instantly looking
round the other way, that Somebody was come at last.
" Lady Drum," said he, *' your most devoted servant ! I have
22 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
just been ridiiij^ with a gentleman who ahnost shot himself for love
of the beautiful Countess of Drum in the year — never mind the
year."
" Was it Killblazes 1 " said the lady : " he's a dear old man,
and I'm quite ready to go ofi" with him this minute. Or was it
that delight of an old bishop 1 He's got a lock of my hair now
—I gave it him when he was papa's chaplain ; and let me tell
you it would be a hard matter to find another now in the same
place."
" Law, my Lady ! " says I, "you don't say so?"
" But indeed I do, my good sir," says she ; " for between
ourselves, my head's as bare as a cannon ball — a.sk Faiuiy if
it isn't. Such a fright as the poor thing got when she was a
babby, and came upon me suddenly in my dressing-room without
my wig ! "
" I hojjc La<ly Fanny has recovered from the shock," said
*' Somebody," looking tii"st at her, and then at me iis if he had a
mind to swallow me. And would j'ou believe it? all that Lady
Fanny could say was, " Pretty well, I thank you, my Lord " ; and
she said this with as much fluttering and blusliing as we used to
say our Virgil at school — when we hadn't learned it.
My Lord still kept on looking very fiercely at me, and muttered
something about having hoped to find a seat in Lady Drums
carriage, as he was tired of riding ; on wliich Lady Faimy muttered
something, too, about a " friend of grandmamma's."
"You should say a friend of yours, Fanny," says Lady Jane:
" I am sure we shmild never have come to tlie Park if Fanny had
not insisted tijion bringing Mr. Titiiiarsh hither. Let me introduce
the E;irl of Tiptofi" to Mr. Titmarsh." But instead of taking oflF
his hat, as I did mine, his Lonlsliip gi-owled out that he h(>])ed for
another opportunity, and gall()i)t'd ofl" again on his black horse.
Wliy the deuce / should have ofl'ended him I never could under-
stand.
But it seemed as if I wa.s destined to offend all the men that
day ; for who should presently come up but the Right Honourable
Edmund Preston, one of His Majesty's Secretixries of State (as I
knew very well by the almanac in our oftice) and the husband of
Lady Jane 1
The Right Honourable Edmund wiw riding a grey cob, and was
a fat pale-faced man, who looked as if he never went into the open
air. " Who the devil's that 1 " said he to bis wife, looking surlily
both at me and her.
" Oh, it's a friend of gi-andmamma's and Jane's," said Lady
Fanny at once, looking, like a sly rogue as she was, quite archly at
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 23
her sister — who in her turn appeared (jiiite friglitened, and lodkod
imploiingly at her sister, and never dared to breathe a syUalile.
" Yes, indeed," continued Lady Fanny, " Mr. Titniarsh is a cousin
of grandmamma's by the mother's si(h' : l)y tlie Hoggarty side.
Didn't you know the Hoggarties wlien you were in Ireland, Echnund,
with Lord Bagwig? Let nie introduce you to grandmamma's
cousin, Mr, Titmarsh : Mr. Titmarsh, my brother, Mr. Edmimd
Preston."
There M^as Lady Jane all the time treading upon her sister's
foot as hard as possible, and the little wicked thing would take no
notice ; and I, who had never heard of the cousinshiiJ, feeling as
confounded as could be. But I did not know the Countess of
Drum near so well as that sly minx her granddaughter did ; for
the old lady, who had just before called poor Gus Hoskins her
cousin, had, it appeared, the mania of fancying all the world related
to her, and said —
" Yes, we're cousins, and not very for removed. Mick Hoggarty's
grandmother was Millicent Brady, and she and my Aunt Towzer
were related, as all the world knows ; for Decinuis Brady, of Bally-
brady, married an own cousin of Aunt Towzer's mother, Bell Swift
■ — that was no relation of the Dean's, my love, who came but of a
so-so family — and isn't that clear 1 "
" Oh, perfectly, grandniumma," said Lady Jane, laughing,
while the right honourable gent still rode by us, looking sour and
surly.
"And sure you knew the Hoggarties, Edmund? — the thirteen
red-haired girls — tlie nine graces, and four over, as poor Glanboy
used to call them. Poor Clan ! — a cousin of yours and mine, Mr.
Titmarsh, and sadly in love with me he was too. Not remember
them all now, Edmund? — not remember? — not remember Biddy
and Minny, and Thedy and Widdy, and Mysie and Grizzy, and
P(^lly and Dolly, and the rest ? "
" D — the Miss Hoggarties, ma'am," said the right honourable
gent ; and he said it with such energy, that his grey horse gave a
sudden lash out that well-nigh sent him over his head. Lady Jane
screamed ; Lady Fanny laughed ; old Lady Drum looked as if she
did not care twopence, and said " Serve you right for swearing, you
qjous man you ! "
" Hadn't you better come into the carriage, Edmund — Mr.
Preston ? " cried out the lady anxiously.
" Oh, I'm sure I'll slip out, ma'am," says I.
" Pooh — pooh ! don't stir," said Lady Drum : " it's my carriage ;
and if Mr. Preston chooses to swear at a lady of my years in that
ojous vulgar way — in that ojous vulgar way I repeat — I don't see
24 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
why my friends should be inconvenienced for him. Let him sit on
the dicky if he likes, or come in and ride bodkin." It was quite
clear that my Lady Dnun hated her grandson-in-law heartily ; and
I've remarked somehow in families that this kind of hatred is by
no means uncommon.
Mr. Preston, one of His Majesty's Secretaries of State, was, to
tell the tnith, in a great fright upon his horse, and was glad to get
away from the kicking plunging brute. His pale face looked still
paler than before, and his hands and legs trembled, as he dismounted
fruiu the cob and gave the reins to his servant. I disliked the looks
of the chap — of the master, I mean — at the first moment he came
a\>, when he spoke rudely to that nice gentle wife of his ; and I
thought he was a cowardly fellow, as the adventure of the cob
showed him to be. Heaven bless you ! a baby coukl have ridden
it ; and here was the man with his soul in his mouth at the very
first kick,
" Oh, quick ! do come in, Edmund," .said Lady Fanny, laughing ;
and the carriage steps being let down, and giving me a great scowl
as he came in, he was going to place himself in Lady Fanny's comer
(I warrant you I wouldn't budge from mine), when the little rogue
cried out, " Oh no ! by no means, Mr. Preston. Shut the door,
Thomas. And oh ! what fun it will be to show all the world a
Secretary of State riding bodkin ! "
And pretty glum the Secretary of State looked, I assure you !
"Take my plai-e, Eilmund, and don't minil Fanny's folly," said
Lady Jane timidly.
"Oh no! Pray, madam, dmi't stir! I'm comfortable, very
comfortable ; and so I hope is this Mr. — this gentleman."
" Perfectly, I assure you," says I. " I was going to offer to
ride your horse home for you, as you seemed to be rather frightened
at it ; but the fact was, I was so comforttible here that really I
couldn't move."
Such a grin as old Lady Dnim gave when I said that ! — how
her little eyes twinkled, and her little sly mouth puckered up ! I
couldn't help speaking, for, look you, my blood was uj).
"We shall always be happy of your company. Cousin Titniarsh,"
says she ; and handed me a gold snuff-box, out of which I took a
pinch, and .sneezed with the air of a lord.
" As you have invited this gentleman into your carriage, Lady
Jane Preston, hadn't you better invite him home to dinner 1 " says
Mr. Preston, quite blue ^^nth rage.
"I invited him into /«// carr'age," says the old lady; "and as
we are going to dine at your house, and you press it, I'm sure I
shall be very happy to see him there."
o
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 25
" I'm very sorry I'm engaged," said I.
" Oh, indeed, what a pity ! " says Right Honourable Ned, still
glowering at his wife. " Wlia£ a pity that this gentleman — I forget
his name — that your frieiid, Lady Jane, is engaged ! I am sure
vou would have had such gratification in meeting your relation in
Whitehall."
Lady Drum was over-fond of finding out relations to be sure ;
but this speech of Right Honourable Ned's was rather too much,
"Now, Sam," says I, "be a man and show your spirit!" So I
spoke up at once, and said, " Why, ladies, as the right honourable
gent is so very pressing, I'll give up my engagement, and shall have
sincere ijleasure in cutting mutton with him. What's your hour,
sir?"
He didn't condescend to answer, and for me I did not care ; for,
you see, I did not intend to dine with the man, but only to give
him a lesson of manners. For though I am but a poor fellow, and
hear people cry out how vulgar it is to eat peas with a knife, or ask
three times for cheese, and such like points of ceremony, there's
something, I think, much more vulgar than all this, and that is,
insolence to one's inferiors. I hate tlie chap that uses it, as I scorn
him of humble rank that aflfects to be of the fashion ; and so I
determined to let Mr. Preston know a ])iece of my mind.
When the carriage drove up to his house, I handed out the
ladies as politely as possible, and walked into the hall, and then,
taking hold of Mr. Preston's button at the door, I said, before the
ladies and the tAvo big servants^upon my word I did — " Sir," says
I, " this kind old lady asked me into her carriage, and I rode in it
to please her, not myself. When you came up and asked who the
devil I was, I thought you might have put the question in a more
polite manner ; but it wasn't my business to speak. When, by way
of a joke, you invited me to dinner, I thought I would answer in a
joke too, and here I am. But don't be frightened ; I'm not a-going
to dine with you : only if you play the same joke upon other parties
— on some of the chaps in our office, for example — I reconunend you
to h.ave a care, or they will take you at your tvord"
"Is that all, sir?" says Mr. Preston, still in a rage. "If you
have done, will you leave this house, or shall my servants tm-n you
out 1 Turn out this fellow ! do you hear me 1 " and he broke away
from me, and flung into his study in a rage.
" He's an ojous horrid monsthcr of a man, that husband of
yours ! " said Lady Drum, seizing hold of her elder granddaughter's
arm, "and I hate him; and so come away, for the dinner '11 be
getting cold : " and she was for hurrying away Lady Jane without
more ado. But that kind lady, coming forward, looking very pale
E
26 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TIT3IARSH
and trembling, said, " Mr. Titmarsh, I do hope you'll not be angry
— that is, that you'll forget what has happened, for, believe me, it
has given me very great "
Very great what, I never could say, for here the poor thing's
eyes filled with tears ; and Lady Drum crying out " Tut, tut ! none
of this nonsense," pulled her away by the sleeve, and went upstairs.
But little Lady Fanny walked boldly up to me, and held me out
her little hand, and gave mine such a squeeze, and said, " Good-bye,
my dear Mr. Titmarsh," so very kindly, that I'm blest if I did
not blush up to the ears, and all the blood in my body began to
tingle.
So, when she was gone, I clapped my hat on my head, and
walked out of the hall-door, feeling as proud as a peacock and as
brave as a lion ; and all I wished for was that one of tliose saucy
grinning footmen should say or do something to me tliat was the
least uncivil, su tiiat I might have the pleasure of knot-king him
down, with my best com])Uments to his master. But neither of
them did me any such favour ! and I went away and dined at
home off boiled mutton and turnips with Gus Hoskins quite
peacefully.
I did not think it was proper to tell Gus (who, between our-
selves, is rather curious, and inclined to tittle-tattle) all the parti-
culars of the family quarrel of which I had been the cause and
witness, and so just said that the old lady ("They were the
Drum arms," says Gus ; " for I went and looked them out that
minute in the ' Peerage ' ") — that the old lady turned out to
be a cousin of mine, and that she had taken me to drive in the
Park. Next day we went to tlie otfice as usual, when you may
be sure that Hoskins told everything of what liad liaj)pened, and
a gi'cat deal more ; and somehow, though I did not ])rctcnd to
care sixpence about the matter, I must confess that I was rather
])lcased that the gents in our ofl&ce should hear of a part of my
adventure.
But fancy my surprise, on coming home in the evening, to find
Mrs. Stokes the landlady, Miss Solina Stokes her daughter, and
Master Bob Stokes her son (an idle young vagabond that was always
])laying marbles on St. Bride's steps and in Salisbury Square), —
when I found them all bustling and tumbling up the steps before
me to our rooms on the second floor, and there, on the table,
between our two flutes on one side, my allnun, Gus's " Don Juan "
and "Peerage" on the other, I saw as follows : — •
1. A basket of great red peaches, looking like the cheeks of my
dear Mary Smith.
2. A ditto of large, fat, luscious, heavy -looking grapes.
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 27
3. An enormous piece of raw mutton, as I thought it was ;
but Mrs. Stokes said it was the primest haunch of venison that
ever she saw.
And three cards — viz. —
DOWAGER COUNTESS OF DRUM.
LADY FANNY RAKES.
MR. PRESTON.
LADY JANE PRESTON.
EARL OP TIPTOFF.
*' Sich a carriage ! " says Mrs. Stokes (for that was the way tlie
poor thing spoke). "Sich 'a carriage — all over coronites! sich liveries
— two great footmen, with red whiskers and yellowplush small-
clothes ; and inside, a very old lady in a white poke bonnet, and a
young one with a great Leghorn hat and lilue rilxands, and a great
tall pale gentleman with a tuft on his chin.
" ' Pray, madam, does Mr. Titmarsh live here 1 ' says the young
lady, witli her clear voice.
" ' Yes, my Lady,' says I ; ' but he's at the office — the West
Diddlesex Fire and Life Office, Cornhill.'
"'Chiirles, get out the things,' says the gentleman, quite solemn.
" 'Yes, my Lord,' sixys Charles; and brings me out the haunch
in a newspaper, and on the chauy dish as you see it, and the two
baskets of fruit besides.
" ' Have the kindness, madam,' says my Lord, ' to take these
things to Mr. Titmarsh's rooms, with our, with Lady Jane Preston's
comidiments, and request liis acceptance of them ; ' and then he
pulled out the cards on your table, and this letter, sealed with his
Lordship's own crown."
And herewith Mrs. Stokes gave me a letter, which my wife
keeps to this day, by the way, and which runs thus : —
"The Earl of Tiptotf has been commissioned by Lady Jane
Preston to express her sincere regret and disappointment that slie
was not able yesterday to enjoy the pleasure of Mr. Titraarsh's com-
pany. Lady Jane is about to leave town immediately: she will
therefore be unal)le to receive her friends in Whitehall Place this
season. But Lord Tiptoff trusts that Mr. Titmarsh will have the
kindness to acce])t some of the produce of her Ladyship's garden and
park ; witli which, jierhaps, he will entertain some of those friends in
whose favour he knows so well how to speak."
28 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
Along with this was a little note, containing the words " Lady
Drum at home. Friday evening, June 17." And all this came to
me because my aunt Hoggarty had given me a diamond-pin !
I did not send back the venison : as why should 1 1 Gus was
for sending it at once to Brough, our director ; and the grapes and
peaches to my aunt in Somersetshire.
"But no," says I; "we'll ask Bob Swinney and half-a-dozen
more of our gents ; and we'll have a merry night of it on Saturday."
And a merry night we had too; and as we had no wine in the
cupboard, we had plenty of ale, and gin-punch afterwards. And
Gus sat at the foot of the table, and I at the head ; and we sang
songs, both comic and sentimental, and drank toasts ; and I made
a speech that there is no possibility of mentioning here, because,
entre nous, I had quite forgotten in the morning everything that
had taken place after a certain period on tlie night before.
CHAPTER IV
nOJF THE HAPPY DIAMOND-IFEARER DINES AT
PENTONVILLE
I DID not go to the office till half-aii-hour after opening time on
Monday. If the truth must be told, I was not sorry to let
Hoskins have the start of mc, and tell the chaps wliat had
taken place, — for we all have our little vanities, and I liked to be
thought well of by my companions.
When I came in, I saw my business had been done, by the
way in which the chaps looked at me ; especially Abednego, who
offered me a pinch out of his gold snuff-box the very first thing.
Roundhand shook me, too, warmly by the hand, wlien he came
round to look over my day-book, said I wrote a capital liand (and
indeed I believe I do, without any sort of flattery), and invited me
for dinner next Sunday, in Myddelton Square. " You won't have,"
said he, " quite such a grand turn-out as with yotir friends at the
West End " — he said this with a jiarticular accent — " but Amelia
and I are always happy to see a friend in our plain way, — -pdle
sherry, old port, and cut and come again. Hey % "
I said I would come and bring Hoskins too.
He answered that I Avas very jjolite, and that he should be very
happy to see Hoskins ; and we went accordingly at the appointed
day and hour ; but though Gus was eleventh clerk and I twelfth,
I remarked that at dinner I was helped first and best, I had twice
as many force-meat balls as Hoskins in my mock-turtle, and pretty
nearly all the oysters out of the sauce-boat. Once Roundhand was
going to help Gus before me ; when his wife, who was seated at the
head of the table, looking very big and fierce in red crape and a
turban, shouted out, " Antony ! " and poor R, dropped the plate,
and blushed as red as anything. How Mrs. R. did talk to me about
the West End, to be sure ! She had a " Peerage," as you may be
certain, and knew everything about the Drum family in a manner
that quite astonished me. She asked me liow nuich Lord Drum
had a year ; whether I thought he had twenty, thirty, forty, or a
hundred and fifty thousand a year ; whether I was invited to Drimi
Castle ; what the young ladies wore, and if they had those odious
30 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
gigot sleeves which were just coming in then ; and here Mrs. R.
looked at a ])air of large mottled arms that she was very proud of.
" I say, Sam my boy ! " cried, in the midst of our talk, Mr.
Roundhand, who had been passing the port-wine round pretty freely,
" I hope you looked to the main chance, and put in a few shares of
the West Diddlesex,— hey ? "
" Mr. Roundhand, have you put up the decanters downstairs % "
cries the lady, quite angry, and wishing to stop the convereation.
" No, Milly, I've emptied 'em," says R.
" Don't Milly me, sir ! and have the goodness to go down and
tell Lancy my maid " (a look at me) " to make the tea in the study.
We have a gentleman here who is not ^lsed to Pentonville ways "
(another look); "but he won't mind the ways of Jri^nds." And
here Mre. Roundhand heaved her very large chest, and gave me a
third look that was so severe, that I declare to goodness it made me
look quite foolish. As to Gus, she never so much as spoke to him
all the evening ; but he consoled himself witli a gTeat lot of muffins,
and sat most of the evening (it wa.s a cruel hot summer) whistling
and talking with Roundliand on the verandah. I think I should
like to have been "with them, — for it wa-s very close in the room
with tliat great big Mrs. Roundhand squeezing close up to one on
the sofo.
" Do you recollect what a jolly night we had here last summer 1 "
I heard Hoskins say, who Avas leaning over the balcony, and ogling
the girls coming home from church. " You and me with our coats
off, plenty of cold rum-and-water, Mrs. Roundhand at Margate, and
a whole box of Manillas ? "
"Hush !" said Roundhand, quite eagerly; "Milly will hear."
But Milly didn't hear : for she was occupied in telling me an
immense long story about her waltzing with the Count de Schlop-
penzollcrn at the City ball to the Allied Sovereigns : and how the
Count had great large wiiite moustaches ; and how odd she thought
it to go whirling round tlie room with a great man's arm rouml your
waist. " Mr. Roundhand has never allowed it since our marriage —
never; but in the year 'fourteen it was considered a proper com-
pliment, you know, to j)ay the sovereigns. So twenty-nine young
ladies, of the best families in the City of London, I assure you, Mr.
Titmarsh — there was the Lord Mayor's own daughters; Alderman
Dobbins's gals; Sir Charles Hopper's three, wlio have the great
house in Baker Street; and your humble sen'ant, who was rather
slimmer in those days — twenty -nine of us had a dancing-master on
purpose, and practised waltzing in a room over the Egyptian Hall
at the Mansion House. He was a splendid man, that Count Schlop-
penzollern ! "
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 31
" I am sure, ma'am," says I, " he had a splendid partner ! " and
blushed up to my eyes when I said it.
" Get away, you naughty creature ! " says Mrs. Roundhand,
giving me a great slap : " you're all the same, you men in the West
End — all deceivers. The Count was just like you. Heigho !
Before you marry, it's all honey and compliments ; wlien you win
us, it's all coldness and inditiercucc. Look at Roundhand, tlie great
baby, trying to beat down a butterfly with his yellow bandanna !
Can a man like that comprehend me 1 can he fill the void in my
heart?" (She pronounced it without the h; but that there should
be no mistake, laid her hand upon the place meant.) "Ah, no!
Will yoii, be so neglectful when you marry, Mr. Titmarsh % "
As she spoke, the bells were just tolling the people out of churcli,
and I fell a-thinking of my dear dear Mary Smith in the country,
walking home to her grandmother's, in her modest grey cloak, as
the bells were chiming and the air full of the sweet smell of the
hay, and the river shining in the sun, all crimson, purple, gold, and
silver. There was my dear Mary a hundred and twenty miles off",
in Somersetshire, walking home from church along with Mr. Snorter's
family, with which slie came and went ; and I was listening to the
talk of this great leering vulgar woman.
I could not help feeling for a certain half of a sixpence that you
have heard me speak of; and putting my hand mechanically upon
my chest, I tore my fingers with the point of my new diamond-pin.
Mr. Polonius had sent it home the night before, and I sported it for
•the first time at Roundhand's to dinner.
" It's a beautiful diamond," said Mrs. Roundhand. " I have been
looking at it all dinner-time. How rich you must be to wear such
splendid things ! and how can you remain in a vulgar office in the
City — you who have such great acquaintances at the West End 1 ''
The woman had somehow put me in such a passion that I
bounced off the sofa, and made for the balcony without answering
a word, — ay, and half broke my head against the sash, too, as I
went out to the gents in the open air. " Gus," says I, " I feel very
unwell : I wish you'd come home with me." And Gus did not
desire anything better ; for he had ogled the last girl out of the
last church, and the night was beginning to fall.
" What ! already 1 " said Mrs. Roundhand ; " there is a lobster
coming up, — a trifling refreshment ; not what he's accustomed
to, but "
I am sorry to say I nearly said, " D — the lobster ! " as Round-
hand went and whispered to her that I was ill.
" Ay," said Gus, looking very knowing. " Recollect, Mrs. R.,
that he was at the West End on Thursday, asked to dine, ma'am,
32 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
with the tiptop nobs. Chaps don't dine at the "West End for
nothing, do they, R. 1 If you play at howls, you know "
" You must look out for rubbers," said Roundhand, as quick
as thought.
"Js^ot in my house of a Sunday," said Mrs. R., looking very
fierce and angrj'. " Not a card shall be touched here. Are we in
a Protestant land, sir ? in a Cliristian country ? "
"My dear, you don't imderstand. We were not talking of
rubbers of whist."
" There shall be no game at all in the house of a Sabbath eve,"
said Mrs. Roundhand ; and out she flounced from the room, without
ever so much as wishing us good-night.
" Do stay," said the husband, looking very much frij^htened, —
"do stay. She won't come back while you're here; and I ilo wish
you'd stay so."
But we wouldn't : and when we reached Salisbury Square, I
gave Gus a lecture about spending: his Sundays idly ; and read out
one of Blair's sermons before we wont to Ix'd. As I turned over
in bed, I could not help thinking about the luck the pin had brought
me ; and it was not over yet, as you will see in the next chapter.
CHAPTER V
HOIF THE DIAMOND INTRODUCES HIM TO A STILL
MORE FASHIONABLE PLACE
TO tell the truth, though, about the pin, although I mentioned
it almost the last thing in the previous chapter, I assure
you it was by no means the last thing in my thoughts. It
had come home from Mr. Polonius's, as I said, on Saturday night ;
and Gus and I happened to be out enjoying ourselves, half-price, at
Sadler's Wells ; and perhaps we took a little refreshment on our way
back : but that has nothing to do with my story.
On the table, however, was the little box from the jeweller's ;
and when I took it out, — 7m/, how the diamond did twinkle and
glitter by the light of our one candle !
" I'm sure it would light up the room of itself," sfiys Gus.
"I've read they do in — in history."
It was in the history of Cogia Hassan Alhabbal, in the " Arabian
Nights," as I knew very well. But we put the candle out, never-
theless, to try,
"Well, I declare to goodness it does illuminate the old place !"
says Gus ; but the foct was, that there was a gasdamp opposite
our window, and I believe that Avas the reason why we could see
pretty well. At least in my bedroom, to which I was obliged to
go without a candle, and of which the window looked out on a
dead wall, I could not see a wink, in si)ite of the Hoggarty diamond,
and was obliged to grope about in the dark for a pincushion which
Somebody gave me (I doir't mind owning it was Mary Smith), and
in which I stuck it for the night. But, somehow, I did not sleep
much for thinking of it, and woke very early in the morning; and,
if the truth must be told, stuck it in my night-gown, like a fool, and
admired myself very much in the glass.
Gus admired it as nuich as I did; for since my return, and
especially since my venison dinner and drive with Lady Drum, he
thought I was the finest fellow in the world, and boasted about
his " West End friend " everywhere.
As we were going to dine at Roundhand's, and I had no black
satin stock to set it off, I was obliged to place it in the frill of my
34 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
best shirt, which tore the muslin sadly, by the way. However,
the diamond had its effect on my entertainers, as we have seen ;
rather too much perhaps on one of them ; and next day I wore it
down at the office, as Gus would make me do; though it did not
look near so well in the second day's shirt as on the first day, when
the linen was quite clear and bright with Somersetshire washing.
The chaps at the West Diddlesex all admired it hugely, except
that snarling Scotchman IM'Whii-ter, fourth clerk, — out of envy
because I did not think much of a great yellow stone, named a
carum-gorum, or some such thing, which he had in a snuft'-muU,
as he called it, — all except M'Whirtcr, I s;iy, were delighted with
it; and Abednego himself, who ought to know, as his father was
in the line, told me the jewel was worth at le;\st ten poiuulsh, and
that his governor would give me as nnicl) for it.
" That's a i)roof," says Roundhand, " that Tit's diamond is
worth at least thirty." And we all laughed, and agreed it was.
Now I must confess that all t'r.ese praises, and the ros}>ect that
was paid me, turned my head a little ; and as all the chaps said I
must have a black satin stock to set tiie stone utf, I wius IVkiI t-nough
to buy a stock that cost me five-and-twenty shillings, at Ludlani's
in Piccadilly : for Gus said I nmst go to the liest place, to l»e sure,
and have none of our cheap and common Eiust Eiul stutt'. I might
have had one for sixteen and six in Cheapsitle, every whit a.s go<Kl ;
but when a young lad becomes vain, and wants to be f:ishionable,
you see he can't help being extravagant.
Our director, Mr. Brough, did not fail to hoar of the haunch of
venison business, and my relationship Mith Lady Dnnn and the
Right Honourable Edmund Preston : oidy Alx-ilnego, who told him,
said I was her Ladyship's first cousin ; and this made Brough think
more of me, and no Avorse than before.
Mr. B. was, as everybody knows. Member of Parliament for
Rottcnburgh ; and being considered one of the richest men in the
City of London, used to receive all the great peojdc of tlie land at
his \illa at Fulham ; and we often read in the pai)ers of tlie rare
doings going on tliere.
Well, the ])in certainly worked wojiders : for not content merely
with making me a present of a ride in a countess's carriage, of a
haunch of venison and two baskets of fiiiit, and the dimicr at
Roundhand's above described, my dianjond had other honours in
store for me, and procured me the honour of an invitation to the
house of our director, I\Ir. Brough.
Once a year, in June, that honourable gent gave a grand ball
at his house at Fulham ; and by the accounts of the entertaiinncnt
brought back by one or two of our cliaps who had been invited.
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 35
it was one of the most magnificent tilings to be seen about London.
You saw Members of Parliament there as thick as peas in July,
lords and ladies without end. There was everything and everybody
of the tiptop sort ; and I have heard that Mr. Gunter, of Berkeley
Square, supplied the ices, supper, and footmen,^ — though of the
latter Brough kept a plenty, but not enough to serve the host of
people who came to him. The party, it must be remembered, was
Mrs. Brough's party, not the gentleman's, — he being in the Dissent-
ing way, would scarcely sanction any entertainments of the kind :
but he told his City friends that his lady governed him in every-
thing ; and it was generally observed that most of them would
allow their daughters to go to the ball if asked, on account of the
immense number of the nobility which our director asseml)led
together : Mrs. Roundhand, I know, for one, would have given one
of her ears to go ; but, as I have said before, nothing would induce
Brough to ask her.
Roundluuid himself, and Gutch, nineteenth clerk, son of the
brother of an East Indian director, were the only two of our gents
invited, a.s we knew very well : for they had received their invita-
tions many weelvS before, and bragged about them not a little.
But two (lays before the ball, and after my diamond-pin had had
its due effect upon the gents at the office, Abednego, wlio had been
in the directors' room, came to my desk with a great smirk, and
said, "Tit, Mr. B. says that he expects you will come down with
Roundhand to the ball on Thursday." I thought Moses was joking,
— at any rate, that Mr. B.'s message was a queer one; for people
don't usually send invitations in that abrupt peremptory sort of
way ; but, sure enough, he presently came down himself and con-
firmed it, saying, as he was going out of the office, " Mr. Titmarsh,
you will come down on Thm-sday to Mrs. Brough's party, where
you will see some relations of yoursi,"
" "West End again ! " says that Gus Hoskins ; and accordingly
down I went, taking a place in a cal) whicli Rovmdhand hired for
himself, Gutch, and me, and for which he very generously paid
eight shillings.
There is no use to describe the .grand gala, nor the number of
lamps in the lodge and in the garden, nor the crowd of carriages
that came in at the gates, nor the troops of curious -people outside ;
nor the ice.s, fiddlers, MTcaths of flowers, and cold supper within.
The whole description was beautifully given in a fashionable paper,
by a reporter who observed the same from the " Yellow Lion " over
the way, and told it in his journal in the most accurate manner;
getting an account of the dresses of the great people from their
footmen and coachmen, when they came to the alehouse for theii"
36 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
porter As for the names of the gtiests, they, you may be sure,
found their way to the same newspaper : and a great laugh was had
at my expense, because among the titles of the greiit people men-
tioned my name appeared in the list of the " Honouraiiles." Next
day, Brough advertised "a hundred and fifty guinciis reward for an
emerald necklace lost at the party of John Brough, Esq., "it
Fulham ; " though some of our peojile said that no such thimr was
lost at all, and that Brough only wanted to advertise the mugniti-
cence of his society ; but this doubt was raisetl by persons not
mvited, and envious no doubt.
Well, I wore my diamond, as you may imagine, and rigged
myself in my best clotlus, viz., my blue coat and brass buttons
before mentioned, naidcecn trousers and silk stockings, a white
waistcoat, and a pair of white gloves boutrht fur the <Kvasion. Br.t
my coat was of country make, very higii in the Avaist and short in
the sleeves, and I supjiose nuist have looked rather odd to some of
the great people assembled, for thty stareil at me a great deal, and
a whole crowd formed to see me dance — which I ilid to the best of
my power, performing all the steps accurately and with great agility,
!is I had been taught by our dancing-master in the countrj'.
And with Avhom do you think I had tiie lumour to dance '<
With no less a person than Lady Jane I'iTst<tn ; who, it appears,
had not gone out of town, and who shook me must kindly by the
hand when she saw me, and asked me to ilanec witli her. We had
my Lord Tiptoff and Lady Fanny Rakes fur our vis-h-vis.
You should have seen lutw the jtcople crowded to liiok at u.^,
and admired my dancing too, for I cut tlie very lx«st of capers, quite
different to the rest of the gents (my Lord among the numl)er), who
walked through the quadrille as If they ihouglit it a trouble, and
stared at my activity with all their niiglit. But when I have a
dance I like to enjoy myself: and Mary Smith often sjiid I wiis the
very best i)artuer at oiu- assemblies, ^^1lile we were <laniing, I told
Lady Jane how Roundhan<l, Gutch, and I had come down tliree in
a cab, besides the driver ; and my accoinit of our adventures made
her Ladyship laugh, I Avan-ant you. Lucky it wjis for me that I
didn't go b;ick in the same vehicle, for the driver went and intoxj.
cuted himself at the "Yellow Lion," threw out Uutdi and our head
clerk as he was'flriving them back, and actually fou-,'ht Gutch after
wards and blacked his eye, because he said that Gutch's red waist-
coat frightened the horse.
Lady Jane, however, spared me such an uncomfortable ride
home : for she said she had a fourth place in her carriage, and asked
me if I would accept it ; and i)ositively, at two o'clock in the
morning, there was I, after setting the ladies and my Lord down,
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 37
driven to Salisbury Square in a great thundering carriage, -with
flaming lumps and two tall footmen, who nearly knocked the door
and the whole little street dqvm with the noise they made at the
rapper. You should have seen Gus's head peeping out of window
in his white nightcap ! He kept me up the whole night telling him
about the ball, and the great peojjle I had seen there ; and next day
he told at the office my stories, with his own usual embroideries
upon them.
"Mr. Titmarsh," said Lady Fanny, laughing to me, "Avho is
that great fat curious man, the master of the liouse "? Do you know
he asked me if you Avcre not related to us 1 and I said, ' Oh yes,
you were.' "
" Fanny ! " says Lady Jane.
" Well," answered the other, " did not grandmamma say Mr.
Titmarsh was her <'ousin ? "
" But you know that gnmdmamma's memory is not very good."
" Indeed, you're wrong, Lady Jane," says my Lord ; " I think
it's prodigious."
"Yes, but not very — not very accurate."
" No, my Lady," says I ; "for her Ladyship, the Countess of
Drum, said, if you remember, that my friend Gus Hoskins "
" AVhose cause you supported so bravely," cries Lady Fanny.
"—That my friend Gus is her Ladyship's cousin too, which
cannot be, for I know all his family : they live in Skimier Street
and St. Mary Axe, and are not — not quite so respectable as my
relatives."
At this they all began to laugh ; and my Lord said, rather
haughtily — ■
" Dcfjcnd uj)on it, Mr. Titmarsh, that Lady Drum is no more
your cousin than .she is the cousin of your friend Mr. Hoskinson."
" Hoskins, my Lord — and so I tokl Gus ; but you see he is very
fond of me, and ivill have it that I am related to Lady D. : and say
wiiat I will to the contrary, tells the story everywhere. Though, to
be sure," added I with a laugh, " it has gained me no small good in
my time." So I described to the party our dinner at Mrs. Eouud-
hand's, which all came from my diamond-pin, and my reputation as
a conne(;tion of the aristocnicy. Then I thanked Lady Jane hand-
somely for her magnificent jiresent of fruit and venison, and told her
that it had entertained a great number of kind friends of mine, who
had drunk lier Ladyshij/s health with the greatest gratitude.
'' A kaunch of venison ! " cried Lady Jane, quite astonished ;
*' indeed, Mr. Titmarsh, I am quite at a loss to understand you."
As we jiassed a gas-lamp, I saw Lady Fanny laughing as usual,
and turning her great arch sparkling black eyes at Lord Tiptolll
38 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
" Why, Lady Jane," said he, " if the truth must out, the great
haunch of venison trick wa^ one of this young lady's performing.
You must know that I had received the above-named haunch from
Lord Guttlebury's park : and knowing that Preston is not averse to
Guttlebury venison, was telling Lady Drum (in whose carnage I
had a seat that day, as Mr. Titmarsh was not in the way) that I
intended the haunch for your husl>and's table. Whereui)on my
Lady Fanny, clafiping together her little hands, declared an<l vowed
that the venison should not go to Preston, but shouhl be sent to a
gentleman about whose adventures on the day previous we hud just
been talking — to Mr. Titmarsh, in fact : whom Preston, a.s Fanny
vowed, had used most cruelly, and to whom, she said, a reparation
was due. So my Lady Fanny insists upon our driving straight
to my rooms in the Albany (you know I am only to stay in my
bachelor's quarters a month longer) "
*' Nonsense ! " says Lady Fanny,
" — Insists upon driving straight to my chamlx'rs in the Allxmy,
extracting thence the above-named haunch "
"Grandmamma was very sorry to part with it," cries La<ly
Fanny,
" — And then she orders as to proceed to Mr. Titmarsli's house
in the City, where the venison was left, in company with a couple
of baskets of fruit bought at Grange's by La<ly Faiuiy herself."
" And what was more," said Lady Fanny, " I made gran<l-
mamma go into Fr into Lord Tiptofl's nxims, and »lictat«'d out
of my own mouth the letter which he wrote, and piiuu'il u]i the
haunch of venison that his hideous old housekeeper brouglit us — I
am ciuite jealous of her — I pinned up the haimch of venison in a
copy of the John BuU newspaper."
It hatl one of the Rimsbottom letters in it, I remember, which
Gus and I read on Sunday at breakfa.st, and Me nearly killed our-
selves with laughing. The ladies laughed top when I told them
this; and good-natured Lady Jane sai<l she would fon,nve her sister,
and hoped I would too : wliich I ]>roinised to do a.s often a.^ her
Ladyship chose to repeat the otfence.
I never had any more veni.'^on from the family : but Til tell you
what I had. About a month after came a card of " Lord and Lady
Tiptoff," and a great piece of plum-cake ; of which, I am sorry to
say, Gus ate a great deal too much.
CHAPTER VI
OF THE WEST DIDDLESEX ASSOCIATION, AND OF THE
EFFECT THE DIAMOND HAD THERE
WELL, the magic of the pin was not ov^er yet. Very soon
after Mrs. Brough's grand party, our director called nie
up to Ids room at the West Diddlesex, and after examin-
ing my accounts, and siieaking a -wlnle alx»it business, said, " That's
a very fine diamond-pin. Master Titmai-sh " (he spoke in a grave
patronising way), "and I called you on purpose to speak to you
upon the subject. I do not object to seeing the young men of this
establishment well and handsomely dressed ; but I know that their
salaries cannot afford ornaments like those, and I grieve to see you
with a thing of such value. You have i)aid for it, sir, — I trust you
have paid for it ; for, of all things, my dear — dear young friend,
beware of debt."
I could not conceive why Brougli was reading me this lecture
about debt and my having bought the diamond-pin, as I knew that
he had been asking about it already, and how I came by it — •
Abednego told me so. "Why, sir," says I, "Mr. Abednego told
me that he had told you that I had told him "
"Oh, ay — by-the-bye, now I recollect, Mr. Titmarsh — I do
recollect — yes ; though I su])pose, sir, you will imagine that I
have other more important things to remember."
" Oh, sir, in course," says I.
" That one of the clerks did say something about a pin — that
one of the other gentlemen had it. And so your pin was given you,
was it ? "
" It was given me, sir, by my aunt, Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle
Hoggarty," said I, raising my voice ; for I was a little i)roud of
Castle Hoggarty.
" She nuist be very rich to make such presents, Titmarsh 1 "
" Why, thank you", sir," says I, " she is pretty well off. Foiu-
hundred a year jointure ; a farm at Sloppertou, sir ; three houses
at Squa.shtail ; and three thousand two hundred loose cash at the
banker's, as I happen to know, sir, — that's all."
I did hai»pen to know this, you sec ; because, while I wa^ down
40 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
in Somersetshire, Mr. MacManus, my aunt's agent in Ireland,
wrote to say that a mortgage she had on Lord Brallaghan's property
had just been paid off, and that the money was lodged at Coutts's.
Ireland was in a very disturbed state in those days ; and my aunt
wisely determined not to invest her money in that country an>
more, but to look out for some good security in England. However,
as she had always received six per cent, in Ireland, she would not
hear of a smaller interest ; and had warned me, as I was a com-
mercial man, on coming to town, to look out for some means by
which she could invest her money at that rate at least.
" And how do you come to know i\Irs. Hoggarty's property so
accurately 1 " said Mr. Brough ; upon which I told him.
"Good heavens, sir ! and do you mean that you, a clerk in the
West Diddlesex Insurance Office, applied to by a respectable lady
as to the manner in whicli she should invest property, never spoke
to her about the Company which you have the honour to serve?
Do you mean, sir, that you, knowing there was a bonus of five per
cent, for yourself upon shares taken, did not press Mrs. Hoggarty to
join us 1 "
" Sir," says I, " I'm an honest man, and would not take a bonus
from my own relation."
" Honest I know you are, my boy — give me your hand ! So
am I honest — so is every man in this Company honest ; but we
must be prudent as Avell. We have five millions of capital on our
books, as you see — five bond Jide millions of bond fide sovereigns
paid up, sir — there is no dishonesty there. But why should we not
have twenty millions — a liundred millions ? Why should not this
be the greatest commercial Association in the world? — as it shall
be, sir, — it shall, as sure as my name is Jolm Brough, if Heaven
bless my honest endeavours to establish it ! But do you suppose
that it can be so, unless every man among us use his utmost
exertions to forward the success of the enterprise? Never, sir, —
never; and, for me, I say so everywhere. I glory in what I do.
There is not a house in which I enter, but I leave a prospectus of
the West Diddlesex. There is not a single tradesman I employ,
but has shares in it to some amount. My servants, sir, — my very
servants and grooms, are bound u]) with it. And the first question
I ask of any one who applies to me for a place is. Are you insured or
a shareholder in the West Diddlesex 1 the second, Have you a good
character? And if the first question is answered in the negative,
I say to the party coming to me. Then he a shareholder before you
ask for a place in my household. Did you not see me — me, John
Brough, whose name is good for millions — step out of my coach-and-
four into this office, with four pounds nineteen, which I paid in to
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 41
Mr. Roundhaiid as the price of half a share for the porter at my
lodge-gate^ Did you remark that I deducted a- shilling from the
five pound 1 "
"Yes, sir; it was the day you drew out eight hundred and
seventy-three ten and six — Thursday week," says I.
" And why did I deduct that shilling, sir ? Because it was mij
commission — John Brough's commission ; honestly earned by him,
and openly taken. Was there any disguise about it ? No. Did I
do it for the love of a shilling 1 No," says Brough, laying his hand
on his heart, "I did it from ■princi2)le, — from that motive which
guides every one of my actions, as I can look up to Heaven and
say. I wish all ray young men to see my example, and follow it :
I wish — I pray that they may. Think of that example, sir. That
porter of mine has a sick wife and nine young children : he is himself
a sick man, and his tenure of life is feeble ; he has earned money,
sir, in my service — sixty pounds and more — it is all his children
have to look to — all : but for that, in the event of his deatli, they
would be houseless beggars in the street. And what have I done
for that family, sir^ I have put tliat money out of the reach of
Robert Gates, and placed it so that it shall be a blessing to his
fanuly at his death. Every ferthiiig is invested in shares in this
office ; and Robert Gates, my lodge-porter, is a holder of three shares
in the West Diddlesex Association, and, in that capacity, your master
and mine. Do you think I want to cheat Gates '\ "
" Oh, sir ! " says I.
" To cheat that poor helpless man, and those tender innocent
children ! — you can't think so, sir ; I should be a disgrace to human
nature if I did But what boots all my energy and perseverance ]
What though I place my friends' money, my family's money, my
own money — my hopes, wishes, desires, ambitions — all upon this
enterprise"? You young men will }iot do so. You, whom I treat
with love and confidence as my children, make no return to me.
When I toil, you remain still ; when I struggle, you look on. Say
the word at once, — you douht me ! heavens, that this should be
the rewar<l of all my care and love for you ! "
Here Mr. Brough was so affected that he actually burst into
tears, and I confess I saw in its true light the negligence of which
I had been guilty.
" Sir," says I, " I am very — very sorry : it was a matter of
delicacy, rather than otherwise, which induced me not to speak to
my aunt about the West Diddlesex."
"Dehcacy, my dear dear boy — as if there can be any delicacy
about making your aunt's fortune ! Say indifference to me, say
ingratitude, say folly, — but don't say delicacy — no, no, not deli-
42 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
cacy. Be honest, ray boy, and call things by their right names — •
always do."
"It was folly and ingratitude, Mr, Brough," says I: "I see it
all now ; and I'll write to my aunt this very post."
" You had better do no such thing," says Brough bitterly : "the
stocks are at ninety, and Mrs. Hoggarty can get three per cent, for
her money."
" I will Avi-ite, sir, — upon my word and honour, I will
write."
" Well, a.s your honour is passed, you must, I suppose ; for
never break your word — no, not in a triile, Titmarsh. Send me up
the letter when you have done, and I'll frank it — upon my word
and honour I will," says Mr. Brough, laughing, and holding out his
hand to me.
I took it, and he pressed mine very kindly — " You may as well
sit down here," says he, ;xs he kei)t hold of it ; " there is plenty of
paper."
And so I sat down and mended a beautiful pen, and began and
wrote, " Independent West Diddlesex Association, June 1822," and
" My dear Aunt," in the best manner possible. Then I paused a
little, thinking what I should next say ; for I have always found
that difficulty about letters. The date and My dear So-and-so one
writes off immediately — it is the next part which is hard ; and I
put my pen in my mouth, tiung myself back in my chair, and began
to think about it.
" Bah ! " said Brough, " are you going to be about this letter all
day, my good fellow? Listen to me, and I'll dictate to you in a
moment." So he began : — -
" ' My dear Aunt, — Since my return from Somersetshire, I am
very hapi)y indeed to tell you that I have so pleased the managing
director of our Association and the Board, that they have been good
enough to appoint me third clerk ' "
" Sir ! " says I.
" Write what I say. Mr. Roundhand, as has been agreed by
the board yesterday, quits the clerk's desk and takes the title of
secretary and actuary. Mr. Highmore takes his place ; Mr.
Abednego follows him ; and I place you as third clerk — as ' tliird
clerk (write), with a salaiy of a hundred and fifty pounds per
aimum. This news will, I know, gratify my dear mother and you,
who have been a second mother to me all my life.
' When I was last at home, I rememlier you consulted me as to
the best mode of laying out a sum of money which was lying useless
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 43
in your banker's hands. I have since lost no opportunity of gaining
what information I could : and situated here as I am, in the very
midst of affairs, I believe, although very young, I am as good a
person to apply to as many others of greater age and standing.
' I frequently thought of mentioning to you our Association, but
feelings of delicacy prevented me from doing so. I did not "wisli
that any one should suppose that a shallow of self-interest could
move me in any way.
'But I believe, without any sort of doubt, that the West
Diddlesex Association offers the best security that you can expect
for your capital, and, at the same time, the highest interest you can
anywhere procure.
' The situation of the Company, as I have it from the very best
authority (underline that), is as follows : —
'The subscribed and bond fide capital is five millions
STERLING.
' The body of directors you know. Suffice it to say that the
managing director is John Brougli, Esq., of the firm of Brough and
Hoff, a Member of Parliament, and a man as well known a.s Mr.
Rothschild in the City of London. His private fortune, I know for
a fact, amounts to half a million ; and the last dividends paid to the
shareholders of the I. W. D. Association amounted to 6g per cent.
per annum.'
[That I know was the dividend declared by us.]
' Altliough the shares in the market are at a very great pre-
mium, it is the privilege of the four first clerks to dispose of a
certain number £5000 each at par ; and if you, my dearest aunt,
would wish for £2500 worth, I hope you will allow me to oblige
you by offermg you so much of my new privileges.
' Let me hear from you immediately upon the subject, as I have
already an offer for the whole amount of my shares at market price.'"
" But I haven't, sir," says I.
" You have, sir. / will take the shares ; but I want you. I
want as many respectable persons in the Company as I can bring.
I want you because I like you, and I don't mind telling you i\v:X I
have views of my own as well ; for I am an honest man and say
openly what I mean, and I'll tell you why I want you. I can't, by
the regulations of the Company, have more than a certain number
of votes, but if your aunt takes shares, I expect— I don't mir.d
owning it — that "she will vote witli me. Now do you understand
mel My object is to be all in all with the Company ; and if I be,
44 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
I will make it the most glorious enterprise that ever was conducted
in tlie City of London."
So I signed the letter and left it Anth Mr. B. to frank.
The next day I went and took my place at the third clerk's
desk, being led to it by Mr. B., who made a speech to the gents,
much to the annoyance of the other chaps, who grumbled about
their services : though, a.s fir the matter of that, our services were
very much alike : the Comjiany was only three years old, and the
oldest clerk in it had not six months' more standing in it than I.
"Look out," said that envious M'Whirter to me. " Have you got
money, or have any of your relations money 1 or are any of them
going to jiut it into the concern?"
I did not think fit to answer him, but took a pinch out of his
mull, and was always kind to him ; and he, to say the truth, was
always most civil to me. As for Gus Hoskins, he began to think
I was a superior being ; and I must say that the rest of the cha]»s
behaved very kindly in the matter, and said that if one man were to
be put over tlicir heads before another, they would liave jntched
u{»oii me, for I had never banned any of them, and done little
kindnesses to several.
" I know," says Abednego, " how you got the place. It was I
who got it you. I told Rrough yoti were a cousin of Preston's, the
Lord of the Treasury, had venison from him and all that; and
depend upon it he expects that you will be able to do him some
good in that tpiarter."
1 think there w;us some likelihood in what Alwdnego said, because
our govenior, as we called him, fre(|Uontly sjioke to me alxiut my
cousin ; told me to j)ush the concern in the West End of the town,
get as many noblemen as we could to insure with us, and so on.
It was in vain I said I eoidd do nothing with Mr. Preston. "Bah !
bah ! " says Mr. Brough, " don't tell 7ne. People don't send
haunches of venison to you for notlsing ; " and I'm convineed he
thought I was a very cautious ]iruilent fellow, for not bragging
alK)ut my great family, and keeping my connection with them a
secret. To be sure he might have learned the truth from Gus,
who lived with me ; but Gus woidd insist that I was hand in
glove with all the nobility, and boasted about me ten times as
much as I did myself
The chaps used to call me the " "West Ender."
" See," thought I, " what I have gained by Aunt Hoggarty
giving me a diamond-pin ! "What a lucky thing it is that slie did
not give me the money, as I hoped she would ! Had I not had the
pin — had I even taken it to any other person but Mr. Polonius,
Laily Drum would never have noticed me ; had Lady Drum never
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 45
noticed me, Mr. Brough never would, and I never should have
been third clerk of the West Diddlesex."
I took heart at all tliis, and wrote otf on the very evening of
my appointment to my dearest Mary Smith, giving her warning
that a "certain event," for which one of us was longing very
earnestly, miglit come off sooner than we had expected. And why
not? Miss S.'s own fortune was £70 a year, mine was £150, and
when we had £300, we always vowed we would marry. '■ Ah ! "
thought I, " if I could but go to Somersetslnre now, I might boldly
walk up to old Smith's door " (he was her gramlfather, and a half-
pay lieutenant of the navy), " I might knock at the knocker and
see my beloved Mary in the parlour, and not be obliged to sneak
behind hayricks on the look-out for her, or jielt st(Mies at midnight
at her window."
My aunt, in a few days, Avrote a. pretty gracious reply to my
letter. She had not determined, she said, as to the manner in
which she should employ her three thousand pounds, but should
take my otter into consideration; begging me to keep my shares
open for a httle while, until her mind was made up.
AVhat, then, does Mr. Brough do? I learned afterwards, in the
year 1830, wlien he and tlie West Diddlesex Association had dis-
appeared altogether, how he had proceeded.
" Who are the attorneys at Slopperton ? " says he to me in a
careless way.
"Mr. Ruck, sir," says I, "is the Tory solicitor, and Messrs.
Hodge and Smithers the Liberals." I knew them very well, for the
fact is, before Mary Smitli came to live in our jiarts, I was rather
partial to Miss Hodge, and her gi-eat gold-coloured ringlets; but
Mary came and soon i)ut her nose out of joint, as the saying is.
" And you are of what i)olitics 1 "
" Why, sir, we are Liberals." T was rather ashamed of this,
for Mr. Brough was an out-and-out Tory ; bat Hodge and Smith-
ers is a most respectable ttnu. I brought up a packet from them
to Hickson, Dixon, Paxton and Jackson, our solicitors, who are
their London correspondents.
Mr. Brough only said, " OIi, indeed!" and did not talk any
further on the subject, but began admiring my diamond-pin very
much.
" Titmarsh, my dear boy," says he, " I have a young lady at
Fnlham who is worth seeing, I assure you, and who has heard so
much about you from her father (for I like yon, my boy, I don't
care to own it), that she is rather anxious to see you too. Suppose
you come down to us for a week ? Abednego will do your work."
"Law, sir! you are very kind," says L
6
46 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
'•Well, you shall come down; and I hope you -will like my
claret. But hark ye ! I don't think, my dear fellow, you are
quite smart enough — quite well enough dressed. Do you under-
stand mc r'
" I've my blue coat and brass buttons at home, sir."
" What ! that thing with the waist between your shoulders
that you wore at Mrs. Brough's party]" (It was rather higli-
waisted, being made in the country two years before.) " No — no,
that will never do. Get some new clothes, sir, — two new suits of
clothes."
"Sir!" says T, "I'm already, if the truth must be told, very
short of money for this quarter, ami can't afford myself a new suit
for a long time to come."
" Pooh, pooh ! don't let that annoy you. Here's a ten-pound
note but no, on second thoughts, you may as well go to my
tailor's. I'll drive you dowTi there : and never mind the bill, my
good lad!" And drive me dorn he actually did, in liis grand
coach-and-four, to Mr. Yon Stiltz, in Clifford Street, who tiM)k my
measure, and sent me home two of the finest coats ever seen, a
dress-coat and a frock, a velvet waistcoat, a silk ditto, and three
pairs of pantaloons, of the most beautiful make. Brough told me
to get some boots and pumps, and silk stockings for evenings ; so
that when the time came for n)e to go down to Fulham, I ajijiearcd
as handsome as any young nobleman, and Gus said tliat "I looketl,
by Jingo, like a regular tijjtop swell."
In the meantime the following letter had been sent down to
Hodge and Smithers : —
"Ram Alley, Counhill, London : July 1822.
" Dear Sirs
[This part being on private affairs
relative to the cases of
Dixon V. Haggerstony,
Snodgrass v. Rubbidge and another,
I am not permitted
to extract.]
■ > • • •
" Likewise we teg to hand you a few more prospectuses of the
Independent West Diddlesex Fire and Life Insurance Company, of
which we have the honour to be the solicitors in London. We
wrote to you hist year, requesting you to accept- the Slopperton
and Somerset agency for the same, and have been expecting for
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 47
some time back that either shares or assurances should be effected
by you.
" The cajiital of the Company, as you know, is five milUons
sterling (say £5,000,000), and we are in a situation to offer more
than tire usual commission to our agents of the legal profession.
"We shall be hajiiiy to give a premium of C per cent, for shares to
the amount of .£1000, 6^ per cent, above a thousand, to be paid
imme<liatoly upon the taking of the shares. — I am, dear sirs, for
self and partners, yours most faithfully,
•' Samuel Jacksok."
This letter, as I have said, came into my hands some time
afterwards. I knew nothing of it in the year 1822, when, in my
new suit of clothes, I 'went down to pass a week at the Rookery,
Fulham, residence of John Brough, Esquire, M.P.
CHAPTER VII
HOr SA^{UEL TITMARSH REACHED THE HIGHEST POIWT
OF PROSPERITY
IF I liad the pen of a George Robin.s, I might describe the RtX)kery
]in)ju'rly: snttice it, Imwcver, to say it is a very handsome
country i)larL' ; witii liandsomc lawns slojnng down tr> the river,
handsome shrubberies and conservatories, tine 8tal)les, outhouses,
kitchen-gardens, and everything belonging to a first-rate rus in urbe,
as the great auctioneer called it when he hammered it down some
years after.
I arrived on a Saturday at lialf-an-hour before dinner : a grave
gentleman out of livery showed nie to my room , a man in a chocolate
coat and gold lace, with Brough's crest on the buttons, brouirht me
a silver shaving-jtot of hot water on a silver tray; and a grand <linner
was reiuly at six, at which I had the honour of apiK'uriug in Vou
Stiltz's dress-co;it and my new silk st<K'kini:s and j)um]»s.
Brough took nic by the hand as I came in, and presented me to
his lady, a stout fair-haired woman, in light blue sj\tin ; then to his
daughter, a tall, thin, dark-<'yed girl, with beetle-brows, looking very
ill-natured, and about eighteen.
" Belinda my love," s;iid her i'ai>a, " this young gentleman is
one of my clerks, who was at our ball."
"Oh, indeed ! " says Belinda, tossing uj) her head.
'' But not a common clerk. Miss Belinda, — so, it you please,
we will have none of your aristocratic aii-s with him. He is a
nephew of the Countess of Drum ; and I hope he will soon be very
high in our establishment, and in the City of London."
At tlie name of Countess (I had a dozen times rectified tiie error
about our relationship), Mi.ss Belinda made a low curtsey, and stared
at me very hard, and .s;iid she would try and make the Rookery
pleasant to any friend of jtapa's. " Wc have not much monde tiv
day,"' continued ^liss Brough, "and arc o\\\y \\\ petit comite ; but
I hope before you leave us you will see some socie'te that will make
your se/our agreeable."
I saw at once that she was a fashionable girl, from her using
the French language in this way.
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 49
" Isn't she a fine girl 1 " said Brougli, whispering to me, and evi-
dently as proud of her as a naan could be. " Isn't she a fine girl
— eh, you dog 1 Do you see breeding like that in Somersetshire "? "
" No, sir, upon my -word ! " answered I, rather slyly ; for I was
thinking all the while how "Somebody" was a thousand times
more beautiful, simple, and ladylike.
" And Avhat has my dearest love been doing all day 1 " said her
papa.
" Oh, pa ! I have 2^incM the harp a little to Captain Fizgig's
flute. Ditbi't I, Captain Fizgig?"
Captain the Honourable Francis Fizgig said, "Yes, Brough,
your fair daughter jnnc^'^i the harp, and touched the piano, and
egrati(jned the guitar, and Scorched a song or two ; and we had the
pleasure of a promenade a Veau, — of a walk upon the water."
"Law, Captain !" cries Mrs. Brough, "walk on the water?"
" Hush, mamma, you don't understand Frencli ! " says Miss
Belinda, with a sneer.
" It's a sad disadvantage, madam," says Fizgig gravely ; " and
I rcconuuend you and Brough here, who are coming out in the great
world, to have sinne lessons ; or at least get up a couple of dozen
phrases, and introduce them into your conversation here and there.
I sui)pose, sir, you s])eak it conunonly at the office, Mr. What-you-
call-it ? " And Mr. Fizgig put his glass into his eye, and looked
at me.
" We speak English, sir," says I, " knowing it better than
French,"
" Everybody has not had your opportunities. Miss Brough,"
continued the gentleman. " Everybody has not voyage like nous
autres, hey 1 Mais que voulez-vous, my good sir ? you must stick
to your cursed ledgers and things. What's the French for ledger,
Miss Belinda?"
" How can you ask ? Je rCen SQais rien, I'm sure."
"You should learn. Miss Brough," said her father. "The
daughter of a British merchant need not be ashamed of the means
by which her father gets his bread. Fm not ashamed — I'm not
proud. Those who know John Brough, know that ten years ago
he was a poor clerk like my friend Titmarsh here, and is now worth
half a million. Is there any man in the House better listened to
than John Brough? Is there any duke in the land that can
give a better dinner than John Brough; or a larger fortune to
his daughter than John Brough? Why, sir, the humble person
now speaking to you could buy out many a German duke !
But I'm not proud — no, no, not proud. There's my daughter —
look at her — when I die she will be mistress of my fortune ; but
50 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
am I proud 1 No ! Let him who can win lier, marry her. that's
what I say. Be it you, Mr. Fiz.i,ag, son of a peer of the reahn ; or
you, Bill Tidd. Be it a duke or a shoeblack, what do I care, hey?
— what do I care 1 "
" 0-o-oh ! " si.i^hed the gent who went by the name of Bill Tidd :
a very pale young man, with a black riband round his neck instead
of a handkerchief, and his collars turned down like Lord Byron.
He Avas leaning against the mantelpiece, and with a pair of great
green eyes ogling Miss Brough with all his might.
" Oh, John — my dear John I " cried Mrs. Brough, seizing her
husband's hand and kissing it, "you are an angel, that you
are
"Isabella, don't flatter me; I'm a man, — a ]ilain downright
citizen of London, without a particle of pride, excejit in you and
my daughter here — my two Bells, as I call them ! Tliis is the way
that we live, Titmarsli, my boy : ours is a liajtpy, humble. Christian
home, and tliat's all. Isal)ella, leave go my hand 1 "
" Mamma, you mustn't do so before comi)any ; it's o<lious ! "
shrieked Miss B. ; and mamma quietly let the hand tall, and heaved
from her ample bosom a great large sigh. I felt a liking for that
simple woman, and a respect for Brough too. He couldn't be a
bad man, whose wife loved him so.
Dinner was soon announced, and I liad the honour of leading in
Miss B., who looked back ratiier angrily, I thought, at Captain
Fizgig, because that gentleman had oHered his arm to Mrs. Brough.
He sat on the riglit of Mrs. Brough, and Miss flounced down on
the seat next to him, leaving me ami Mr. Tidd to take our places
at the opposite side of the talile.
At dinner there was turbot and souji first, ami boiled turkey
afterwards, of course. How is it that at all tlie gi-eat dinnei-s they
have this perpetual boiled turkey? It was real turtle-souji : the
firet time I had ever tasted it ; and I remarked how Mrs. B., who
insisted on helping it, gave all the green lumps of fat to her
husband, and i)ut several slices of the breast of the bird ujider the
body, until it came to his turn to be heli)ed.
" I'm a plain man," says John, " and cat a plain dinner. I hate
your kicksiiaws, though I keep a French cook for those who are
not of my way of thinking. I'm no egotist, look you ; I've no
prejudices ; and Miss there has her bechamels and lallals acconliug
to her taste. Captain, try the volbf-vong"
We had plenty of champagne and old madeira with dinner, and
great silver tankards of porter, which those might take who chose.
Brough made especially a boast of drinking beer; and, when the
ladies retired, said, " Gentlemen, Tiggins will give you an unlimited
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 51
supply of win^: there's no stinting here ; " and tlien laid hiinself
down in his easy-chair and fell asleep.
" He always does so," whispered Mr. Tidd to me.
"Get some of that yellow-sealed wine, Tiggins," says the
Captain. " That other claret we had yesterday is loaded, and
disagrees with me infernally ! "
I must say I liked the yellow seal much better than Aunt
Hoggarty's Rosolio.
I soon found out what Mr. Tidd was, and what he was longing
for.
" Isn't she a glorious creature 1 " says he to me.
" Who, sir ? "\ays I.
" Miss Belinda, to be sure ! " cried Tidd. " Did mortal ever look
upon eyes like hers, or view a more sylph -like figured "
"She might have a little more flesh, Mr. Tidd," says the Captain,
" and a little less eyebrow. They look vicious, those scowling eye-
brows, in a girl. Qu'en dites-vous, Mr. Titmarsh, as Miss Brough
■would say ? "
" I think it remarkably good claret, sir," says I.
" Egad, you're the right sort of fellow ! " says the Captain.
" Volto sciolto, eh ? You respect our sleeping host yonder 1 "
" That I do, sir, as the first man in the City of London, and my
managing director."
" And so do I," says Tidd ; " and this day fortnight, when I'm
of age, I'll prove my confidence too."
" As how 1 " says I.
" Why, sir, you nuist know that I come into — ahem — a consider-
able property, sir, on tlie 14th of July, which my father made — in
business."
" Say at once he was a tailor, Tidd."
•' He was a tailor, sir, — but what of that ? I've had a University
education, and have the feelings of a gentleman ; as much — ay,
perhaps, and more than some members of an effete aristocracy."
" Tidd, don't be severe ! " says the Captain, drinking a tenth
glass.
" Well, Mr. Titmarsh, when of age I come into a considerable
property ; and Mr. Brough has been so good as to say he can get me
twelve hundred a year for my twenty thousand pounds, and I have
promised to invest them."
" In the West Diddlesex, sir 1 " says I — " in our office ? "
" No, in another company, of which Mr. Brough is director, and
quite as good a thing. Mr. Brough is a very old friend of my family,
sir, and he has taken a great liking to me ; and he says that with
my talents I ought to get into Parliament ; and then — and then !
52 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
after I have laid out my patrimony, I may look to matrimony,
you see ! "
" Oh you designing dog ! " said the Captain. " "When I used
to hck you at school, who ever would have thought that I was
thrashing a sucking statesman 1 '''
" Talk away, boys ! " said Brough, waking out of his sleep ; " I
only sleep with half an eye, and hear you all. Yes, you shall get
into Parliament, Tidd, my man, or my name's not Brough ! You
shall have six per cent, for your money, or never believe me ! But
as for my daugliter — ask her, and not mc. You, or the Captain, or
Titmarsh, may have her, if you can get her. All I ask in a son-in-
law is, that he should be, as evgry one of you is, an honourable and
high-minded man ! "
Tidd at this looked very knowing ; and as our host sank oflF to
sleep again, pointed archly at his eyebrows, and wagged his head at
the Captain.
" Bah ! " says the Captain. " I say what I think ; and you
may tell Miss Brough if you like." And so presently this conversa-
tion ended, and we were summoned in to coffee. After which the
Captain sang songs with Mi.ss Brougli ; Tidd looked at her and .said
nothing ; I looked at prints, and Mrs. Brough .«at knitting stockings
for the poor. The Captain was sneering ojionly at Miss Brough and
her affected ways and talk ; but in sjjite of his bullying contemptuous
way, I thought she seemed to have a great regard for him, and to l:>ear
his scorn very meekly.
At twelve Captain Fizgig went off to his barracks at Kniglits-
bridge, and Tidd and I to oiu- rooms. Next day bt-ing Sundixy, a
great bell woke us at eight, and at nine we all assembled in the
breakfast-room, where Mr. Brough read prayers, a chapter, and made
an exhortation afterwards, to us and all the members of the house-
hold ; except the French cook, Monsieur Xontongjtaw, whonz I could
see, from my chair, walking atx:»ut in the shrubberies in his white
nightcap, smoking a cigar.
Every morning on week-days, punctually at eight, Mr. Brough
went through the same ceremony, and had his family to prayers; but
though this man was a hypocrite, as I found after«-ards, I'm not
going to laugh at the fixmily prayers, or say he was a hyix>crite because
he had them. There are many bad and good men who don't go
through the ceremony at all ; but I am sure the good men would be
the better for it, and am not called upon to settle the question
with respect to the bad ones ; and therefore I have passed over a
great deal of the religious part of Mr. Brough's behaviour : suffice it,
that religion was always on his lips ; that he went to church thrice
every Sunday, when he had not a party ; and if he did not talk
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 53
religion with us when we were alone, had a great deal to say upon
the subject upon occasions, as I found one day when we had a Quaker
and Dissenter party to dine, and when his talk was as grave as that
of any minister present. Tidd was not there that day, — for nothing
could make him forsake his Byron riband or refrain from wearing his
collars turned down ; so Tidd was sent with tlie buggy to Astley's.
" And hark ye, Titmarsh, my boy," said he, " leave your diamond-pin
upstairs : our friends to-day don't like such gewgaws ; and though
for my part I am no enemy to harmless ornaments, yet I would not
shock the feelings of those who have sterner opinions. You will see
that my wife and Miss Brough consult my wishes in this respect."
And so they did, — for they both came down to dinner in black gowois
and tippets ; whereas Miss B. had commonly her dress half off her
shoulders.
The Captain rode over several times to see us; and Miss
Brough seemed always delighted to see him. One day I met him
as I was walking out alone by the river, and we had a long talk
together.
"Mr. Titmarsh," says he, "from what little I have seen of
you, you seem to be an honest straight-minded young fellow ; and
I want some information that you can give. Tell me, in the first
place, if you will — and upon my honour it shall go no forther —
about this Insurance Company of yours ? You are in the City,
and see how affairs are going on. Is your concern a stable one 1 "
" Sir," said I, " frankly then, and upon my honour too, I
believe it is. It has been set up only four years, it is true ; but
Mr, Brough had a great name when it was established, and a vast
connection: Every clerk in the office has, to be sure, in a manner,
paid for his place, cither by taking shares himself, or by his rela-
tions taking them. I got mine because my mother, who is very
poor, devoted a small sum of money that came to us to the purchase
of an annuity for herself and a provision for me. The matter was
debated by the family and our attorneys, Messrs. Hodge and
Smithers, who are very well known in our part of the country ; and
it was agreed on all hands that mv mother could not do better with
her money for all of us than invest it in this way. Brough alone
is worth half a million of money, and his name is a host in itself.
Nay, more : I wrote the other day to an aunt of mine, who has a
considerable sum of money in loose cash, and who had consulted me
as to tlie disposal of it, to invest it in our office. Can I give you
any better proof of my opinion of its solvency 1 "
" Did Brough persuade you in any way "? "
" Yes, he certainly spoke to me : but he very honestly told
me his motives, and tells them to us all as honestly. He says,
54 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
'Gentlemen, it is my object to increase the connection of the
oflace, as much as possible. I want to criish all the other offices
in London. Our terms are lower than any office, and we can
bear to laave them lower, and a great business Avill come to us that
way. But we must work ourselves a.s well. Every single share-
hofder and officer of the establishment must exert himself, and
bring us customers, — no matter for how little they are en.gaged
— engage them : that is the great point.' And accordingly our
Director makes all his friends and servants shareholders : his very
lodge-porter yonder is a sharelioldcr ; and he thus endeavours to
fasten upon all whom he comes near. I, for instance, have just
been appointed over the heads of our gents, to a much better place
than I held. I am asked down here, and entertained royally : and
Avliy 1 Because my aunt has three thousand i)ounds which Mr.
Brough wants lier to invest with us."
" That looks awkward, Mr. Titmarsh."
" Not a whit, sir : he makes no disguise of the matter. When
the question is settled one way or the other, I don't believe Mr.
Brough will take any further notice of me. But he wants me now.
This place happened to fall in just at the very moment when he
had need of me ; and he hopes to gain over my family through me.
He told me as much as we drove down. ' You are a man of the
world, Titmarsh,' said he ; ' you know that I don't give you this
place because you are an honest fellow, and write a good haml. If
I had a lesser briV)e to ofter you at the moment, I should only liave
given you that ; but I had no choice, and gave you what was in
my power.' "
" That's fair enough ; but what can make Brough so eager for
such a small smn as three thousand pounds ? "
"If it had been ten, sir, he would have been not a bit more
eager. You don't know the City of London, and the passion which
our great men in the share-market have for increa.^^ing their coiuiec-
tion. Mr. Brough, sir, would canvass and wheedle a chimney-sweep
in the way of business. Sec, here is poor Tidd and his twenty
thousand pounds. Our Director has taken po.sse.ssion of him just in
the same way. He wants all the capital he can lay his hands on."
" Yes, and suppose he runs oti' with the caitital J "
"Mr. Brough, of tlie firm of Brough and Hotf, sir? Suppose
the Bank of England runs off ! But here we are at the lodge-gate.
Let's ask Gates, another of Mr. Brough's victims." And we went
in and spoke to old Gates.
"Well, Mr. Gates," says I, beginning the 7natter cleverly,
"you are one of my masters, you know, at the West L)iddlesex
yonder ] "
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 55
"Yees, sure," says old Gates, gi-iniiiiig. He was a retired
servant, with a large familj- come to him in his old age.
" ]\lay I ask you what your wages are, Mr. Gates, that you can
lay by so much money, and purchase shares in our Company 1 "
Gates told us his wages ; and when Ave inquired whether they
were paid regularly, swore that his master was the kindest gentle-
man in the world : that he had put two of his daughters into
sei-vice, two of his sons to charity schools, made one apprentice, and
narrated a hundred other benefits that he had received from tlie
family. Mrs. Brough clothed half the children ; master gave them
blankets and coats in winter, and soup and meat all the year round.
There never was such a generous family, sure, since the world began.
"Well, sir," said I to the Captain, "does that satisfy you?
Mr. Brough gives to these people fifty times as much as lie gains
from them ; and yet he makes Mr. Gates take shares in our
Company."
" Mr. Titmarsh," says the Captain, " you are an honest fellow ;
and I confess your argument sounds well. Now tell me, do you
know anything about Miss Brough and her fortune 1 "
" Brough will leave her everything — or says so." But I suppose
the Cajjtain saw some jiarticular expression in my countenance, for
he laughed and said —
" I sup])ose, my dear fellow, you think she's dear at the price.
Well, I don't know that you are far wrong."
" Why, then, if I may make so bold. Captain Fizgig, are you
always at lier heels 1 "
" Mr. Titmarsh," says the Cai)tain, " I owe twenty thousand
pounds ; " a:id he went back to the house directly, and proposed
for her.
I thought this rather cruel and unprincii:)led conduct on the
gentleman's i)art ; for he had been introduced to the family by ]\Ir.
Tidd, with whom he had been at school, and had sui)i)Ianted Tidd
entirely in the great heiress's aftections. Brough stormed, and
actually swore at his daughter (as the Captain told me afterwards)
when he heard that the latter had accepted Mr. Fizgig ; and at
last, seeing the Captain, made him give his word that the engage-
ment should be kept secret for a few months. And Captain F.
only made a confidant of me, and the mess, as he said : but this
was after Tidd had paid his twenty thousand pounds over to our
governor, which he did punctually when he came of age. The same
day, too, he proposed for the young lady, and I need not say was
rejected. Presently the Captain's engagement began to be whispered
about : all his great relations, the Duke of Doncaster, the Earl of
Cinqbars, the Earl of Crabs, &c., came and visited the Brough
56 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
family ; the Hon. Henry Riugwood became a shareholder in our
Company, and the Earl of Crabs offered to be. Our shares rose to
a premium ; our Dii^ctor, his lady, and daughter "were presented at
Court ; and the great West Diddlesex Association bid fair to be the
first Assurance Office in the kingdom.
A very short time after my visit to Fulham, my dear aunt
wrote to me to say that she had consulted with her attorneys,
Messrs. Hodge and Smithers, who strongly recommended tliat she
should invest the sum as I advised. She had the sum invested,
too, in my name, paying me many comjiliments upon my honesty
and talent ; of which, she said, Mr. Brough had given her the most
flattering account. And at the same time my aunt informed me
that at her death the shares should be my own. This gave me a
great weight in the Company, as you may imagine. At our next
annual meeting, I attended in my capacity as a shareholder, and
had great pleasure in hearing Mr. Brough, in a magnificent sp)eech,
declare a dividend of six per cent., that we all received over the
counter.
" You lucky young scoimdrel ! " said Brough to me ; " do you
know what made me give you your place 1 "
" Why, my aiuit's money, to be sure, sir," said I.
" No sucli thing. I)o you fancy I cared for those paltry three
thousand pounds 1 I was told you were nephew of Lady Dmm ;
and Lady Drum is grandmother of Lady Jane Preston ; and ]\Ir.
Preston is a man who can do us a world of good. I knew tliat tliey
had sent you venison, and the deuce knows what ; and when I saw
Lady Jane at my party shake you by the hand, and speak to you
so kindly, I took all Abednego's tales for gospel. That was the
reason you got the place, mark you, and not on account of your
miserable three thousand pounds. Well, sir, a fortnight after you
were with us at Fulham, I met Preston in the House, and made a
merit of having given the place to his cousin. * Confound the
insolent scoundrel !' said he; 'he my cousin ! I suppo.se you take
all old Drum's stories for true ? Why, man, it's her mania : she
never is introduced to a man but she finds out a cousinship, and
would not fail of course with that cur of a Titmarsh ! ' ' Well,' said
I, laughing, ' that cur has got a good place in consequence, and the
matter can't be mended.' So you see," continued our Director,
" that you were indebted for vour place, not to vour aunt's money,
but "
" But to MY aunt's diamond-pin ! "
"Lucky rascal ! " said Brough, poking me in the side and going
out of the way. And lucky, in faith. I thought I was.
CHAPTER VIII
RELATES THE HAPPIEST DAY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH'S LIFE
I DON'T know how it was that in tlie course of the next six
months Mr. Roundhand, the actuary, who had been such a
profound a(hnirer of j\Ir. Brough and the West Diddlescx
Association, suddenly quarrelled witli both, and taking his money
out of the concern, he disposed of his ^5000 worth of shares to a
pretty good profit, and went away, speaking everything tliat was
evil both of the Com](any and the Director.
Mr. Highmorc now became secretary and actuary, Mr. Abednego
was first clerk, and your humble servant was second in the office at
a salary of £250 a year. How unfounded were Mr. Roundliand's
aspersions of the West Diddlesex appeared quite clearly at our
meeting in January 1823, when our Chief Director, in one of the
most brilliant speeches ever heard, declared tliat the half-yearly
dividend was £i per cent., at tlie rate of £S per cent. ]>cr aniuun :
and I sent to my aunt £120 sterling as the amount of tlie interest
of the stock in my name.
My excellent aunt, Mrs. Hoggarty, delighted beyond measure,
sent me back £\0 for my o\Ma pocket, and asked me if she had not
better sell Slojjperton and Squashtail, anil invest all her money in
this admirable concern.
On this i)oint I could not surely do better than ask the opinion
of Mr. Brough. Mr. B. told me tliat shares could n(jt be had but
at a premium ; but on my representing that I knew of £5000 worth
in the market at par, he said—" Well, if so, he would like a fair
price for his, and would not mind disjiosing of £5000 worth, as he
had rather a glut of West Diddlesex shares, and his other concerns
wanted feeding with ready money." At the end of our conversation,
of .which I promised to report the purport to Mrs. Hoggarty, the
Director was so kind as to say that he had determined on creating
a place of private secretary to the Managing Director, ami that I
should hold that office Avith an additional salary of £150.
I had £250 a year. Miss Smith had £70 per annum to her
fortune. What had I said should be my line of conduct whenever
I could reaUse £300 a year 1
G
S8 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
Gus of course, and all the gents in our office through him, knew
of my engagement with ilary Smith. Her father had been a com-
mander in the navy and a very distinguished ofl&cer ; and though
Mary, as I have said, only brought me a fortune of £70 a year,
and I, as everybody said, in my present position in the office and
the City of London, might liave reasonably looked out for a laily
with much more money, yet my friends agreed that the connection
was very respectable, and I was content : as who would not have
been ^vith such a darling as I\Iary ? I am sure, for my part, I
would not have taken the Lord Mayor's own daughter in place of
Mary, even with a phun to her fortune.
Mr. Brough of course was made aware of my approaching
marriage, as of everything else relating to every clerk in the office ;
and I do believe Abednego told him wliat we had for dinner ever}'
day. Indeed, his knowledge of our aftairs was wonderful.
He asked me how I\Iary's money was invested. It was in the
three per cent, consols — £2333, 6s. 8d.
" RememlxM-," says he, " my larl, i\Irs. Sam Titmarsh tliat is to
be may have seven per cent, for her money at tlie very lea.st, and
on better security than the Bank of England ; for is not a Company
of Avhich John Brough is the head better than any other company
in England ? " and tn bo sure I thought he was not far wrong, and
promised to sjicak to Mary's guanlians on tlie subject before our
marriage. Lieutenant Smith, her grandfather, had been at the first
very much averse to our union. (I must confess that, one day
finding me alone with her, and kissing, I believe, the tips of her
little fingers, he liad taken me by tiie collar and turned me out of
doors.) But Sam Titmarsh, with a salary of £250 a year, a promised
fortune of £150 more, iind the right-hand man of Mr. John Brough
of London, was a very tlirteront man from Sam the poor clerk, and
the poor clergyman's widow's son ; and the old gentleman wrote me
a kind letter enough, and begged me to get him six paire of lamb's-
wool stockings and four ditto waistcoats from Romanis', and accepted
thorn too as a present from mo when I went do^vu in June — in
happy June of 1823 — to fetch my dear Mary away.
Mr. Brough was likewise kindly anxious about my aunt's
Slopporton and Squashtail ])roperty, which she had not as yet
sold, as she talked of doing ; and, as Mr. B. represented, it -was
a sin and a shame that any person in whom he took such interest,
as lie did in all the relatives of his dear young friend, should oidy
have three per cent, for her money, when she could have eight
elsewhere. He always called me Sam now, praised me to the other
yoimg men (who brought the praises rcgidarly to me), said there
was a cover always laid for n>e at Fulham, and repeatedly took me
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 59
thither. Tlicre was but little corapauy when I went; and M'AVhirter
used to say he only asked me on days when he had his vulgar
acquaintances. But I did not care for tlie great i)eo])le, not being
born in their sphere ; and indeed did not much care for going to the
house at all. Miss Belinda was not at all to my liking. After her
engagement with Cajitain Fizgig, and after Mr. Tidd had paid his
^20,000, and Fizgig's great relations had joined in some of our
Director's companies, Mr. Brough declared he believed that Captain
Fizgig's views were mercenary, and put him to the proof at once,
by saying that he must take Miss Brough without a fartliing, or
not have her at all. AVhereupon Captain Fizgig got an ai)})ointment
in the colonies, and Miss Brough became more ill-humoured than
ever. But I could not help thinking she was rid of a bad bargain,
and pitying poor Tidd, who came Imck to the charge again more
love-sick tlian ever, and was rebufi'ed pitilessly by Miss Belinda.
Her father plainly told Tidd, too, that liis visits Avere disagTeeable
to Belinda, and though he must always love and value him, he
begged him to discontinue his calls at the Rookery. Poor fellow ! he
had paid his X20,000 away for nothing! for what was six per cent, to
him compared to six per cent, and tlu^ hand of Miss Belinda Brough?
Well, I\Ir. Brough ]iiticd the poor love-sick swain, as he called
me, so nuu'h, and felt such a warm sympatliy in my well-being, that
he insisted on my going down to Somersetshire with a couple of
months' leave ; and away I went, as happy as a lark, with a couple
of brand-new suits from Von Stiltz's in my trunk (I had them made,
looking i'orward to a certain event), and "inside the trvmk Lieutenant
Smith's fleecy hosiery ; wrapping up a. ])arcel of our jirospectuses
and two letters from John Brough, Esq., to my mother our Avorthy
annuitant, and to Mrs. Hoggarty our excellent shareholder. Mr.
Brough said I was all that the fondest father could wish, that he
considered me as his own boy, and that he earnestly begged Mrs.
Hoggarty not to delay the sale of her little landed property, as land
was high now and must fall ; wliereas the West Diddlesex Associa-
tion shares were (comparatively) low, and must inevitably, in tlie
course of a year or two, double, trelile, quadrui)le their jiresent
value.
In this way I was prepared, and in this way I took leave of my
dear Gus. As we parted in the yard of the " Bolt-in-Tun," Fleet
Street, I felt that I never should go back to Salisbury Square again,
and had made my little present to the landlady's family accordingly.
She said I was the respectablest gentleman she had ever had in her
house : nor was that saying much, for Bell Lane is in tlie Rules of
the Fleet, and her lodgers used commonly to be prisoners on Rule
from that place. As for Gus, the poor fellow cried and blubbered
6o THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
so that he could not eat a morsel of the muffins and grilled ham with
which I treated him for breakfast in the " Bolt-iu-Tun " coffee-house;
and when I went away was waging liis hat and his handkerchief so
in the archway of the coach-office that I do believe the wlieels of
the " True Blue '"' went over liis toes, for I lie^ird him roaring as we
passed through the arch. Ah ! how different were my feelings as I
sat proudly there on the box by the side of Jim Ward, the coach-
man, to tliose I had the last time I mounted that coach, parting from
my dear Mary and coming to London with my diamond-fix !
"When arrived near home (at Grumpley, three miles from our
village, where the " True Blue " generally stops to take a glass of
ale at the Poppleton Arms) it was as if our Member, jMr. Poppletou
himself, was come into the country, so great was the concourse of
people assembled round the inn. And there v>-as the landlord of the
imi and all the peo])le of the village. Then there was Tom Wheeler,
the post-boy, from Mrs. Rincer's posting-hotel in our town ; he was
riding on the old bay posters, and they, Heaven bless us ! were
drawing my aunt's yellow chariot, in which she never Avent out but
thrice in a year, and in which she now sat in her splendid cashmere
shawl and a new hat and feather. She waved a white handkerchief
out of the "window, and Tom Wheeler shouted out " Huzza ! " as did
a number of tlie little blackguard boys of Grumpley : who, to be
sure, would liuzza for anytliing. Wluit a change on Tom Wheeler's
part, however ! I remembered only a few years before how he had
wliii)i)cd me from the box of the chaise, as I was hanging on for a
ride behind.
Next to my aunt's carriage came the four-wheeled chaise of
Lieutenant Smith, R.N., who Avas driving his old fat pony with his
lady by his side. I looked in the back scat of the chaise, and felt
a little sad at seeing that Somehodn was not there. But, silly
fellow ! there was Somebody in the yellow chariot with my aunt,
blushing like a peony, I declare, and looking so happy ! — oh, so
ha]ipy and pretty ! She had a white dress, and a light blue and
yellow scarf, which my aunt said were the Hoggarty colours ; though
what the Hoggartys had to do wuth light blue and yellow, I don't
know to this day.
Well, tlic " True Blue " guard made a great bellowing on his
horn as his four horses dashed away ; the boys shouted again ; I
was i)laced bodkin between IMrs. Hoggarty and ]\Iary ; Tom Wheeler
cut into his bays ; the Lieutenant (who had sliakcn me cordially by
the liand, and wliose big dog did not make the slightest attempt at
biting me this time) beat his pony till its fat sides lathered again ;
and thus in this, I may say, unexampled procession, I arrived in
triumph at our village.
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 6i
My dear mother and the girls, — Heaven bless them ! — nine of
them in their nankeen spencers (I had something pretty in my trunk
for each of them) — could not afibrd a carriage, but had posted them-
selves on the road near the village ; and there was such a ^^'aving of
hands and handkerchiefs : and though my aunt did not much notice
them, except by a majestic toss of the head, which is pardonable
in a woman of her property, yet Mary Smith did even more than I,
and waved her hands as much as the whole nine. Ah ! how my
dear mother cried and blessed me when we met, and called me her
soul's comfort and her darling boy, and looked at me as if I were a
paragon of virtue and genius : whereas I was only a very lucky
young fellow, that by the aid of kind friends had stepped rapidly
into a very pretty projierty.
I was not to stay with my mother, — that lir.d lieen aiTanged
beforehand ; for though she and Mrs. Hoggarty were not remarkably
good friends, yet mother said it was for my benefit that I should
stay Avith my aunt, and so gave up the pleasure of having mc with
her : and though hers was much the humbler house of the tAvo, I
need not saj^ I preferred it for to Mrs. Hoggarty's more splendid
oiK) ; let alone the horrible Rosolio, of which I was obliged now to
drink gallons.
It was to Mrs. H.'s then we Avere driven : she had prepared a
great dinner that evening, and hired an extra Vvaiter, and on getting
out of the carriage, she gave a sixpence to Tom Wheeler, saying that
was for himself, and that she would settle with Mrs. Rincer for the
horses afterwards. At which Tom flung the sixpence \\i>oi\ the
ground, swore most violently, and was very justly called by my
aunt an "impertinent fellovr."
She had taken such a liking to mc that she would hardly bear
me out of her sight, "We used to sit for morning after morning over
her accounts, debating for hours together the i^ropriety of selling the
Slopperton property ; l:)ut no arrangement was come to yet about it,
for Hodge and Smithcrs could not get the price she wanted. And,
moreover, she vowed that at her decease she would leave every shilling
to me.
Hodge and Smithers, too, gave a grand party, and treated mc
with marked consideration ; as did every single person of the village.
Those who could not aflbrd to give dinners gave teas, and all drank
the health of the young couple ; and many a time after dinner or
supper was my Mary made to blush by the allusions to the change
in her condition.
The happy day for that ceremony was now fixed, and the 24th
July 1823 saw me the happiest husband cf the prettiest girl in
Somersetshire. We were married from^ my mother's house, who
7
62 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
would insist upon that at any rate, and the nine girls acted as
bridesmaids ; ay ! and Gus Hoskins came from town express to be
my groomsman, and had my old room at my mother's, and stayed
with her for a week, and cast a sheep's-eye upon Miss Winny Tit-
marsh too, my dear fourth sister, as I afterwards learned.
My aimt was very kind upon the marriage ceremony, indeed.
She had desired me some weeks previous to order three magnificent
dresses for Mary from the celebrated Madame MantaUni of London,
and some elegant trinkets and embroidered pocket-handkerchiefs
from Howell and James's. These were sent down to me, and were
to be mrj present to the bride ; but Mrs. Hoggarty gave me to
understand that I need never trouble myself about the payment
of the bill, and I thought her conduct very generous. Also she lent
us her chariot for the wedding journey, and made with her own
hands a beautiful crimson satin reticule for Mrs. Samuel Titmarsh,
her dear niece. It contained a huswife completely furnished with
needles, &c., for she hoped ]Mrs. Titmarsh woidd never neglect her
needle; and a purse containing some silver pennies, and a very
curious pocket-piece. " As long as you keep these, my dear," said
Mrs. Hoggarty, "you will never want; and fervently — fervently do
I pray that you will keep them." In the carriage-pocket we found
a paper of biscuits and a bottle of Rosolio. We laughed at this, and
made it over to Tom "Wheeler — who, however, did not seem to like
it much better than we.
I need not say I was married in Mr. Von Stiltz's coat (the third
and fourth coats. Heaven help us ! in a year), and that I wore
sparkling in my bosom the Great Hoggarty Diamond.
CHAPTER IX
BRINGS BACK SAM, HIS WIFE, AUNT, AND DIAMOND,
TO LONDON
WE pleased ourselves during the huueymoon with forming
l)lans for our life in Loudon, and a pretty paradise did
we build for ourselves ! Well, we were but forty years
old between us ; and, for my jtart, I never found any harm come of
castle-building, but a great deal of pleasure.
Before I left London I had, to say the truth, looked round me
for a proper place, befitting persons of our small income ; and Giis
Hoskins and I, who hunted after office-hours in couples, had fixed
on a very snug little cottage in Camden Town, where there was a
garden that certain small j^eojjle might play in when they came : a
horse and gig-house, if ever we kept one, — and why not, in a fev/
years'? — and a fine healthy air, at a reasonable distance from
'Change ; all for <£30 a year. I had descri})ed this little spot to
Mary as enthusiastically as Sancho describes Lizias to Don Quixote ;
and my dear wife was delighted with the prospect of housekeeping
there, vowed she would cook all the best dishes herself (especially
jam-imdding, of which I confess I am very fond), and promised Gus
that he should dine with us at Clematis Bower every Sunday : only
he must not smoke those horrid cigars. As for Gus, he vowed he
would have a room in the neighbourhood too, for he could not bear
to go back to Bell Lane, where we two had been so hajjpy together ;
and so good-natured ]\Iary said she would ask my sister Winny to
come and keei? her company. At which Hoskins blushed, and said,
" Pooh ! nonsense now."
But all our hopes of a happy snug Clematis Lodge were dashed
to the ground on our return from our little honeymoon excursion ;
when Mrs, Hoggarty informed us that she was sick of the country,
and was determined to go to London with her dear nephew and
niece, and keej) house for them, and introduce them to her friends
in the metropolis.
What could we do 1 We wished lier at — Bath : certainly not
in London. But there was no help for it ; and we were obliged to
bring her : for, as my mother said, if we ofi'ended her, her fortune
54 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
would go out of our family ; and were we two yoimg people not
likely to want it ?
So we came to town rather dismally in the carnage, posting
the Avhole way ; for the carriage must be brought, and a person of
my aunt's rank in life could not travel by the stage. And I had
to pay <£14 for the posters, which pretty nearly exhausted all my
little hoard of cash.
First we went into lodgings, — into three sets in three weeks.
We quarrelled with the first landlady, because my aunt vowed that
she cut a slice off the leg of mutton which was served for our
dinner ; from the second lodgings we went because aunt vowed the
maid would steal the candles ; from the third we went because
Aiuit Hoggarty came down to breakfast the morning after our
arrival with her face shockingly swelled and bitten by — never mind
what. To cut a long talc short, I was half mad Avith the continual
choppings and changings, and tlie long stories and scoklings of my
aunt. As for her great acquaintances, none of them were in London ;
and she made it a matter of quaiTcl Avith nic that I had not intro-
duced her to John Brough, Esquire, M.P., and to Lord and Lady
Tiptoff, her relatives.
Mr. Brough was at Brighton when we arrived in town ; and
on his return I did not care at first to tell our Director that I had
brought my aunt with me, or mention my embarrassments for
money. He looked rather serious when perforce I spoke of the
latter to him and asked for an advance ; but when he heard that
my lack of money had been occasioned by the bringing of my aunt
to Loudon, his tone instantly changed. " That, my dear boy, alters
the question ; ]\Irs. Hogg-.irty is of an age when all things must be
yielded to her. Here are a hundred pounds ; and I beg you to
draw upon me Avhcnever you are in the least in want of money."
This gave me breathing-time until she should pay her share of
the household expenses. Ami the very next day Mr. and ^Irs.
John Brough, in their splendid carriage-and-four, called upon I\Irs.
Hoggarty and my wife at our lodgings in Lamb's Conduit Street.
It was on the very day when my poor aunt appeared with her
face in that sad condition ; and she did not fail to inform IMrs.
Brough of the cause, and to state that at Castle Hoggarty, or at
her country ])lace in Somersetshire, she had never heard or thought
of such vile odious things.
" Gracious heavens ! " shouted John Brough, Esquire, " a lady
of your rank to suffer in this way I — the excellent relative of my
dear boy, Titmarsh ! Never, madam — never let it be said that
Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty should be subject to such
horrible humiliation, while John Brough has a home to offer her,
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 65
— a humble, happy, Christian home, madam; though unhkc,
pcrliaps, the splendour to which you have been accustomed in tlic
course of your distinguished career. Isabella my love ! — Belinda !
speak to Mrs. Hoggarty. Tell her tliat John Brough's house is hers
from garret to cellar. I repeat it, madam, from garret to cellar.
I desire — I insist — I order, that Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty's
trunks should be placed this instant in my carriage ! Have the
goodness to look to them yourself, Mrs. Titraarsh, and see that your
dear aunt's comforts are better provided for than tliey have been."
Mary went away rather wondering at this order. But, to be
sure, Mr. Brough was a gi-eat man, and her SamueFs beneflictor ;
and though the silly child absolutely began to cry as she packed
and toiled at aunt's enormous valises, yet she performed the work,
and came down with a smiling face to my aunt, who was entertaining
Mr., and Mrs. Brough with a long and particular account of the
balls at the Castle, in Dublin, in Lord Charleville's time.
"I have packed the trunks, aunt, but I am not strong enough
to bring them down," saitl Mary.
"Certainly not, certainly not," said John Brough, perhaps a
little ashamed. " Hallo ! George, Frederic, Augustus, come up-
stairs this instant, and bring doAvn the trunks of Mrs. Hoggarty of
Castle Hoggarty, which this young lady will show you."
• Nay, so great was Mr. Brough's condescension, that wlien some
of his fashionable servants refused to meddle with the trunks, ho
himself seized a pair of them with both hands, carried them to the
carriage, and shouted loud enough for all Lamb's Conduit Street to
hear, " John Brough is not proud — no, no ; and if his footmen are
too higli and mighty, he'll show them a lesson of humility."
Mrs. Brough was for running downstairs too, and taking the
trunks from her husband ; but they were too heavy for her, so she
contented herself witli sitting on one, and asking all persons who
passed her, whether John Brough was not an angel of a man ?
In this way it was that ray aunt left us, I was not aware of
her departure, for I was at the office at the time ; and strolling back
at five with Gus, saw my dear Mary smiling and bobbing from tlie
window, and beckoning to us botli to come up. This I thought was
very strange, because Mrs. Hoggarty could not abide Hoskins, and
indeed had told me repeatedly that either she or he must quit the
house. Well, we went upstairs, and there was Mary, wlio had dried
her tears and received us with the most smiling of faces, and laughed
and clapped her hands, and danced, and shook Gus's hand. And
what do you think the little rogue proposed 1 I am blest if she did
not say slie would like to go to Vauxliall !
As dinner was laid for three persons only, Gus took his scat
66 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
with fear and trembling ; and then Mrs. Sam Titmarsh related the
circumstances which had occurred, and how Mrs. Hoggarty had
been whisked away to Fulham in Mr. Brough's splendid carriage-
and-four. " Let her go," I am sorry to say, said I ; and indeed we
relished our veal-cutlets and jam-pudding a great deal more, than
Mrs. Hoggarty did her dinner off plate at the Rookery.
We had a very merry party to Vauxhall, Gus insisting on
standing treat ; and you may be certain that my aunt, whose
absence was prolonged for three weeks, was heartily welcome to
remain away, for we were much merrier and more comfortable with-
out her. My little Mary used to make my breakfast before I went
to office of mornings ; and on Sundays we had a holiday, and saw
the dear little children eat their boiled beef and potatoes at the
Foundling, and heard the beautiful music : but, beautiful as it is,
1 think the children were a more beautiful sight still, and the look
of their innocent hai)])y faces was better than the best sermon. On
week-days Mrs. Titmarsh would take a walk about five o'clock in
the evening on the left-hand side of Lamb's Conduit Street (as you
go to Holborn) — ay, and sometimes pursue her walk as far as Snow
Hill, Avhen two young gents from the I. W. D. Fire and Life Avere
pretty sure to meet her ; and then how hai)pily we all trudged off
to diinier ! Once we came up as a monster of a man, with high
heels and a gold-headed cane, and whiskers all over his face, was
grinning under Mary's bonnet, and chattering to her, close to Day
and I\Iartin's Blacking INLanufoctory (not near such a handsome
thing then as it is now) — there was the man cliattering and ogling
his best, when who should come up but Gus and 1 1 And in the
twinkling of a pegpost, as Lord Duberley says, my gentleman was
seized by the collar of his coat and found himself sjtrawling under
a stand of hackney-coaches ; where all the watermen were grinning
at him. The best of it was, he left his head of hair and tchiskers
in my hand : but IMary said, " Don't be hard upon him, Samuel ;
it's only a Frenchman." And so we gave him his Ang back, which
one of the griiming stable-boys put on and carried to him as he lay
in the straw.
He slirieked out something about "arretez," an«l "Francais,"
and " champ-d'honneur ; " but we walked on, Gus putting his thumb
to his nose and stretching out his finger at Master Frenchman.
This made everybody laugh ; and so the adventure ended.
About ten days after my aunt's departure came a letter from
her, of which I give a copy : —
" My dear Nephew, — It was my earnest whish e'er this to
have returned to London, where I am sure you and my niece Tit-
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 67
marsh miss me very much, and wliere she, poor thing, quite
inexi^erieneed in the ways of ' the great metro})uhis,' in aconamy,
and indeed in every quahity requasit in a good wile and the mistress
of a famaly, can hardly manidge, I am sure, without me.
" Tell her on no account to pay more than 6^d. for the prime
pieces, 4|d. for soup meat ; and that the very best of London butter
is to be had for 8kl. ; of course, fir pudns and the kitchin you'll
employ a commoner sort. My trunks were sadly packed by Mrs.
Titmarsh, and the hasp of the portmantyou-lock has gone througli
my yellow satn. I have darned it, and wear it already twice, at
two ellygant (though quiat) evening-parties given by my hosjmtahle
host ; and my pegreen velvet on Saturday at a gi-and dinner, when
Lord Scaramouch handed me to table. Everything was in the most
su7nptious style. Soup top and bottom (white and brown), removed
by turbit and sammon with immense holes of lobster-sauce. Lobsters
alone cost L5s. Turbit, three guineas. The hole sammon weigh-
ing, I'm sure, 15 lbs., and never seen at table again ; not a bitt of
pickled sammon the hole weak afterwards. This kind of extravi-
gance would just suit Mrs. Sam Titmarsh, Avho, as I always say,
burns the candle at loth ends. Well, young people, it is lucky for
you you have an old aunt who knows better, and has a long purse ;
without witch, I dare say, some folks would be glad to see her out
of doors. I don't mean you, Samuel, who have, I must say, been a
dutiful nephew to me. Well, I dare say I shan't live long, and some
folks won't be sorry to have me in my grave.
" Indeed, on Sunday I was taken in my stomick very ill, and
thought it might have been the lobster-sauce ; but Doctor Blogg,
who was called in, said it was, he very nuich feared, cumsunrjdive ;
but gave me some pills and a draft w'^ made me better^ Please call
upon him — he lives at Pimlico, and you can walk out thero after
office hours — and present him with £1 Is., with my compliments.
I have no money here but a £10 note, the rest being locked up in
my box at Lamb's Cundit Street.
"Although the flesh is not neglected in Mr. B.'s sumptious
establishment, I can assure you the sperrit is likewise cared for.
Mr. B. reads and igspounds every morning ; and but his exorcises
refresh tlic hungry sole before breakfast ! Everytliing is in the
handsomest style, — silver and goold plate at breakfast, lunch, and
dinner; and his crest and motty, a beeliive, with the Latn word
Industria, meaning industry, on everythimj—oYen on the chany
juggs and things in my beddroom. On Sunday we were favoured
by a special outpouring from the Rev. Grimes Wapshot, of the
Amabaptist CongTigation here, and who egshorted for 3 heurs in
the afternoon in Mr. B.'s private chapel. As the widow of a
68 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
Hoggarty, I have always been a staunch supporter of the estabhshed
Church of England and Ireland ; but I must say Mr. Wapshot's
stirring way was far superior to that of the Rev. Bland Blenkinsop
of the Establishment, who lifted up his voice after dinner for a
short discourse of two hours.
" Mrs. Brougli is, between ourselves, a poor creature, and has
no sperrit of her own. As for Miss B., she is so saucy that once I
promised to box her years ; and would have left the house, had not
Mr. B. taken my part, and Miss made me a suitable apollogy.
" I don't know when I shall return to town, being made really
so welcome here. Dr. Blogg says the air of Fulham is the best in
the world for my simtums ; and as the ladies of the house do not
choose to walk out with me, the Rev. Grimes Wapshot has often
been kind enough to lend me his arm, and 'tis sweet with such
a guide to wander both to Putney and "Wandsworth, and igsamin
the wonderful works of nature. I liave spoke to him about the
Slopperton property, and he is not of Mr. B.'s opinion that I should
sell it ; but on this point I shall follow my own counsel.
" Meantime you must gett into more comfortable lodgings, and
lett my bedd be warmed every night, and of rainy days have a fire
in the grate : and let Mrs. Titniarsh look up my blue silk dress,
and turn it against I come ; and there is my pm-iile spencer she Ciin
have for herself; and I hope she does not Avear tliose three splendid
gOAvns you gave her, but lccc]i them until letter times. I shall soon
introduse her to my friend Mr. Brough, and others of my acquaint-
anccs ; and am always, Your loving Aunt.
" I have orde'red a chest of the Rosolio to be sent from Somer-
setshire. AVhen it comes, jdease to send half down here (paying
the carriage, of course). Twill be an acceptable present to my kind
entertainer, Mr. B."
This letter was brought to me by Mr. Brough Iiimself at the
office, who apologised to me for having broken the seal by inadvert-
ence ; for the letter had been mingled with some more of his own,
and he opened it without looking at the superscriiition. Of course
he had not read it, and I was glad of that ; for I should not have
liked him to see my aunt's opinion of his daughter and lady.
The next day, a gentleman at " Tom's Coffee-house," Cornhill,
sent me word at the office that he wanted particularly to si)cak to
me : and I stepped thither, and found my old friend Smithers, of
the house of Hodge and Smithers, just off the coach, with his
carpet-bag between his legs.
" Sam, my boy," said he, " you are yoiu- aunt's heir, and I have
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 69
a piece of news for you regarding licr property which you ought to
know. She MTote us down a letter for a chest of that home-made
wine of hers Avhich she calls Rosolio, and which lies in our ware-
house along with her furniture."
"Well," says I, smiling, "she may part with as much Rosolio
as she likes for me. I cede all my right."
" Pslia ! " says Smithers, " it's not that ; though her furniture
puts us to a deuced inconvenience, to be sure — it's not that : but,
in the postscript of her letter, she orders us to advertise the
Slopperton and Sijuashtail estates for immediate sale, as she
purposes placing her capital elsewliere."
I knew that the Slopperton and Squashtail property had been
the source of a very pretty income to Messrs. Hodge and Smithers,
for aunt was always at law with her tenants, and paid dearly for
her litigious spirit; so that Mr. Smithers's concern regarding the
sale of it did not seem to me to be quite disinterested.
" And did you come to London, Mr. Smithers, expressly to
acquaint me with this fact 1 It seems to me you liad much better
have obeyed my aunt's instructions at once, or go to her at Ful-ham,
and consult with her on this subject."
" 'Sdeath, IMr. Titmarsh ! don't you see that if she makes a sale
of her property, she will hand over tlie money to Brough ; and if
Brough gets the money, he "
" Will give her seven per cent, for it instead of three, — there's
no harm in that."
" But there's such a thing as security, look you. He is a warm
man, certainly — very warm — quite respectable — most undoubtedly
respectable. But who knows ? A jjanic may take place ; and then
these five hundred companies in which he is engaged may bring him
to ruin. There's the Ginger Beer Company, of which Brough is a
director : awkward reports are abroad concerning it. The Consoli-
dated Bafiin's Bay Muff and Tippet Company — the shares are down
very low, and Brough is a director there. The Patent Pum]i Com-
pany — shares at 65, and a fresh call, which nobody Avill pay."
" Nonsense, Mr. Smithers ! Has not Mr. Brough five hundred
thousand pounds' worth of shares in the Independent West
DiDDLESEX, and is that at a discount '? Who recommended my
aunt to invest her money in that speculation, I should like to
know V I had hira there.
" Well, well, it is a very good speculation, certainly, and lias
brought you three hundred a year, Sam, my boy ; and you may
thank us for the interest we took in you (indeed, we loved you as
a son, and Miss Hodge has not recovered a certain mamage yet).
You don't intend to rebuke us for making your fortune, do you 1 "
70 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
" No, hang it, no ! " says I, and shook hands with him, and
accepted a glass of sherry and biscuits, which he ordered forthwitli.
Smithers returned, however, to the charge. " Sam," he said,
" mark my words, and tahe your aunt aivay from the Rookery.
She wrote to Mrs. S. a long account of a reverend gent with whom
she walks out there, — the Reverend Grimes Wapshot. That man
has an eye upon her. He was tried at Lancaster in the year '14
for forgery, and narrowly escaped with his neck. Have a care of
him — he has an eye to her money."
"Nay," said I, taking out Mrs. Hoggarty's letter: "read for
yourself."
Ho read it over very carefully, seemed to be amused by it ; and
as he returned it to me, "Well, Sam," he said, "I have only two
favours to ask of you : one is, not to mention that I am in town to
any living soul ; and the other is, to give me a dinner in Lamb's
Conduit Street with your pretty wife."
" I promise you both gladly," I said, laughing. " But if you
dine with us, your arrival in town must be known, for my friend
Gus Hoskins dines Avith us likewise ; and has done so nearly every
day since my aunt went."
He laughed too, and said, " We must swear Gus to secrecy over
a bottle." And so we parted till dinner-time.
The indefatigable lawyer pursued his attack after dinner, and
was supported by Gus and by my wife too ; who certainly was
disinterested in the matter — more than disinterested, for she would
have given a gi-eat deal to be spared my aunt's company. But she
said she saw the force of Mr. Smithers's arguments, and I admitted
their justice with a sigh. However, I rode my high horse, and
vowed that my aunt should do what she liked with her money ;
and that I was not the man who would influence her in any way in
the disposal of it.
After tea the two gents walked away together, and Gus told
me that Smithers had asked him a thousand questions about the
office, about Brough, about nie and my wife, and everything con-
cerning us. "You are a lucky fellow, Mr. Hoskins, and seem to
be the friend of this charming young couple," said Smithers ; and
Gus confessed he was, and said he had dined with us fifteen times
in six weeks, and that a better and more hospitable fellow than I
did not exist. This I state not to trumpet my own praises, — no,
no ; but because these questions of Smithers's had a good deal
to do with the sidDsequent events narrated in this little history.
Being seated at dinner the next day off the cold leg of mutton
that Smithers had admired so the day before, and Gus as usual
having his legs under our mahogany, a hackney-coach drove up to
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 71
the door, which we did not much heed ; a step was heard on the
floor, which we hoped might be for the two-pair lodger, when
who should burst into the room but Mrs. Hoggarty herself 1 Gus,
who was blowing the froth off" a pot of porter })n')iaratory to a
delicious drink of the beverage, and had been making us die of
laughing with his stories and jokes, laid down the pewter pot as
Mrs. H. came in, and looked Cjuite sick ami ]iale. Indeed we all
felt a little uneasy.
My aunt looked haughtily in Mary's face, then fiercely at Gus,
and saying, " It is too true — my poor boy — already ! " flung her-
self hysterically into my arms, and swore, almost choking, that she
would never never leave me.
I could not understand the meaning of this extraordinary agita-
tion on Mrs. Hoggarty's part, nor coukl any of us. She refused
Mary's hand when the poor thing rather nervously offeretl it ; and
when Gus timidly said, " I think, Sam, I'm rather in the way
here, and perhaps — had better go," Mrs. H. looked him full in
the face, jDointed to the door majestically with her forefinger, and
said, " I think, sir, you had better go."
" I hope Mr. Hoskins will stay as long as he pleases," said my
wife, with spirit.
" Of course you hope so, madam," answered Mrs. Hoggarty,
very sarcastic. But Mary's speech and my aunt's were (juite lost
upon Gus ; for he had instantly run to his hat, and I heard him
tumbling downstairs.
The quarrel ended, as usual, hj Mary's bursting into a fit of tears,
and by my aunt's re]ieating the assertion that it was not too late, she
trusted ; and from that day forth she would never never leave me.
"What could have made aunt return and be so angry?" said I
to Mary that night, as we were in our own room ; but my wife ])ro-
tested she did not know : and it was only some time after that I found
out the reason of this quarrel, and of Mrs. H.'s sudden reappearance.
The horrible fat coarse little Smithers told me the matter as
a very good joke, only the other year, when he showed me the
letter of Hickson, Dixon, Paxton and Jackson, which has before
been quoted in my Memoirs.
"Sam, my boy," said he, "you were determined to leave Mrs.
Hoggarty in Brough's clutches at the Rookery, and I was deter-
mined to have her away. I resolved to kill two of your mortal
enemies with one stone as it were. It was quite clear to me that
the Reverend Grimes Wapshot had an eye to your aunt's fortune ;
and that Mr. Brough had similar predatory intentions regarding
her. Predatory is a mild word, Sam : if I had said robbery at
once, I should express my meaning clearer.
72 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
"Well, I took the Fulham stage, und arriving, made straight
for the lodgings of the reverend gentleman. ' Sir,' said I. on
finding that worthy gent, — he was drinking warm brandy-and-
water, Sam, at two o'clock in the day, or at least the room i*nielt
very strongly of that beverage — ' Sir,' say.s I, ' you were tried for
forgery in the year '14, at Lancaster as-sizcs.'
" * And acquitted, sir. My innocence was by Providence made
clear,' said Wajt.shot.
" 'But you were not acquitted of emWzzlement in 'IG, sir,' ."^ays
I, 'and passed two years in York Gaol in consequence.' I knew
the fellow's hist<>r>', for I had a writ out ag-aiiist him when lie w:u?
a preacher at Clifton. I foUowrd uj) my bluw. 'Mr. Wapshot,'
said I, 'you are making love to an excellent lady n<iw at the house
of Mr. Brough : if you do not promise to give up all i)ursuit of her,
I will e.\ po.se you.'
" ' I have promi.seil,' .said WajL-^hot, r.ither surjtrised. and l«H)king
more ea.sy. ' I have given my .solemn promise to Mr. Bn>ugh,
who was with me this verj' morning, stunning, and scoldinir. and
sweariuL;. ()\\, sir, it wouM have frightoneil you to hear a Christian
babe like him swear as he did.'
" ' Mr. Brough been here ? ' says I, nither astoni.shc<l.
"'Yes; I sui>po.se you are btth here on the sjune sirnt,' says
Wapshot. 'You want to marry the widow witli the Slop|M^rton
aufl Squa.><htail estate, do you ? Well, well, have your way. I've
promised not to have anything more to do with the wiiiow. and a
Wapshot's honour is sacre<l.'
"'I suppo.se, sir,' says I, 'Mr. r.--" ''■ h.-is threatene<l to kick
you out of doors, if you cjdl agsiiu.*
" 'You httre l)een with him, I see,' says the reverend gent, with
a shrug: tlu-n I renu-mlxTcd what yo;i liad told me of tlu broken
seal of your letter, and have not \\\v .-liL'lit. -f il.iidit t!, i 1'.i..m:1i
opened and read every word of it.
"Well, the first bird was baLrue<l : both I and Bnnigh had iiad
a shot at him. Now I had to fire at the whole R<Hikery ; and off
I went, juimed and loa<led, sir, — jirimiMl and loadi^l.
" It was past eight when I amved, and I sjiw, after I jias-seil
the lodge-gates, a fi^nire that I knew, walkinir in the sliniblnTy —
that of your respected aunt, sir: but I wished to mei^t the amialile
ladies of the house before I .saw her ; because lo<ik, fricntl Titmarsh,
I saw by Mrs. Hoggarty's letter, that she ami they were at dag'.:er8
drawn, and hojn^d to get her out of the hou.se at once by means of
a (piarrel with tliem."
I laughed, and owned that Mr. Smithere was a very cunning
fellow
AXD THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 73
** As luck would have it," continued lie, " Miss Brough was in
the drawing-room twangling on a guitar, and singing most atrociously
out of tunc ; but as I entered at the door, I cried ' Hush ! ' to the
footman, as loud as p<jssible, stood stock-still, and then walked
forward on tijjtoc lightly. I\Ii^;s B. could see in the glass every
movement that I made ; she ])reten(led not to see, however, and
finished the song with a regular roulade.
" ' Gracious Heaven ! ' said I, ' do, madam, pardon me for
interrupting that delicious harmony, — for coming unaware upon it,
— for daring uninvited to listen to it.'
" ' Do you come for mamma, sir ? ' said Miss Brough, with as
much graciousness as her physiognomy could command. ' I am
Mi.ss Brough, sir.'
" ' I wi.'ih, madam, you would let me not breathe a word regard
ing my business until you have sung another charming strain.'
" She did not sing, but looked pleased, and said, ' La ! sir, what
is your ])usiness ? '
"'My Itusincss is with a lady, your respected father's guest in
this hduse.'
" * Oh, ]Mrs. Hoggarty ! ' says IMiss Brough, flouncing towards
the liell, and ringing it. 'John, send to Mrs. Hoggarty, in the
shruldtery ; liere is a gentleman who wants to see her.'
" ' I know,' continued I, ' Mrs. Hoggarty's peculiarities as well
as any one, madam ; and aware that those and her education are not
such as to make her a fit eomi)anion for you. I know you do not
like her : she ha.s written to us in Somersetshire that you do not
like her.'
" ' What I she has been abusing us to her friends, has she "? '
cried ]\Iiss Brough (it was the very point I wished to insinuate).
' If she does not like us, why does she not leave us ] '
"'Slie has made rather a long visit,' said I; 'and I am sure
that her nei)liew and niece are longing for her return. Pray,
madam, do not move, for you may aid me in the object for whicli
I come.'
"The object for which I came, sir, was to establish a regular
battle-royal lietween the two ladies ; at the end of which I intended
to appeal to Mrs. Hoggarty, and say that she ought really no longer
to stay iu a house with the mendiers of which she had such unhappy
difterences. Well, sir, the battle-royal was fought, — Miss Belinda
ojH'ning the fire, by saying she understood Mrs. Hoggarty had been
calumniating her to her friends. But though at the end of it Miss
rushed out of the room in a rage, and vowed she woidd leave her
home unless that odious woman lelt it, your dear au.nt said, ' Ha,
ha ! I know the minx's vile stratagems ; but, thank Heaven ! I have
74 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
a good heart, and my religion enables me to forgive her. I shall
not leave her excellent papa's house, or vex by my departure that
worthy admirable man.'
"I then tried Mrs. H. on the score of compassion. 'Your
niece,' said I, ' Mrs. Titmarsh, madam, has been of late, Sam says,
rather poorly, — qualmish of morninirs, madam, — a little nervous,
and low in spirits, — symptoms, madam, that are scarcely to be
mistaken in a young married person.'
"Mrs. Hoggarty said she had an admirable cordial that she
would send Mrs. Samuel Titmarsh, and she was perfectly certain it
would do her good.
" With very great unwillingness I was obliged now to bring my
List reserve into tlie field, and may tell you what tliat was, Sam,
my boy, now that the matter is so long passed. ' Madam,' said I,
' there's a matter about which I must speak, though indeed I
scarcely dare. I dined With yoiu* nei^hcw yesterday, and met at
his table a young man — a young man of low manners, but evidently
one who has blinded your nephew, and I too nuich fear has suc-
ceeded in making an impression upon your niece. His name is
Hoskins, madam ; and when I state that he who was never in the
house tluring your presence there, lias dined witli your too confiding
nephew si.xteen times in three weeks, I may leave you to imagine
what I dare not — dare not imagine myself
" The shot told. Your aunt bounced up at once, and in ten
minutes more was in my carriage, on our way back to London.
There, sir, was not that generalship ? "
" And you played this pretty trick off at my wife's expense, Mr.
Smithers," said I.
" At your wife's expense, certainly ; but for the benefit of both
of you."
" It's lucky, sir, that you are an old man," I replied, " and
that tlie affair happened ton years ago ; or, by the Lord, Mr.
Smithers, I would have given you such a horsewhipping as you
never heard of ! "
But this was the way in whidi Mrs. Hoggarty was brought
back to her relatives ; and this was the reason why we took
that house in Bernard Street, the doings at which must now be
described.
CHAPTER X
OF SAM'S PRIVATE AFFAIRS, AXD OF THE FIRM OF
BROUGH AND 11 OFF
WE took a genteel house in Bernard Street, Paissell Square,
and my aunt sent for all her furniture from the country ;
which would have filled two such houses, but which came
pretty cheap to us young housekeepers, as we had only to i)ay the
carnage of the goods from Bristol.
When I brought Mrs. H. her third half-year's dividend, having
not for four months touched a shilling of her money, I nmst say
she gave me £50 of the £80, and told me that was ample pay for
the board and lodging of a poor old woman like her, avIio did not
eat more than a spaiTow.
I have myself, in the country, seen her eat nine sparrows in a
pudding ; but she was rich, and I could not complain. If she saved
£600 a year, at the least, by living with us, why, all the savings
Avould one day come to me ; and so Mary and I consoled ourselves,
and tried to manage matters as well as we might. It was no easy
task to keep a mansion in Bernard Street and save money out of
£470 a year, which was my income. But what a lucky fellow I
wa5 to have such an income !
As Mrs. Hoggarty left the Rookerj- in Smitliers's carriage, Mr.
Brough, with his four greys, was entering the loilge-gate ; and I
should like to have seen the looks of these two gentlemen, as the
one Avas carrying the other's prey off, out of his own very den,
under his very nose.
He came to sec her the next day, and protested that he would
not leave the house until slie left it with him : tliat he had heard
of his daughter's inflimous conduct, and had seen her in tears — " in
tears, madam, and on her knees, imploring Heaven to pardon her ! "
But Mr. B. was obliged to leave the house Avithout my aunt, who
had a causa major for staying, and hardly allowed poor Mary out
of her sight, — opening CA^ry one of the letters that came into the
house directed to my Avife, and suspecting hers to everybody. Mary
never told me of all this pain for many many years afterAA-ards ; but
had alwavs a smiling face for her husband Avhen he came home from
76 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
his work. As for jjoor Gus, my aunt had so frightened him, that
he never once shoAved his nose in the place all the time we lived
there ; but used to be content with news of Mary, of whom he was
as fond as he was of me.
Mr. Brough, when my aunt left him, was in a furious ill-luunour
witli me. He found fault with me ten times a day, and openly,
before the gents of the office ; but I let liim one day know pretty
smartly that I was not only a servant, but a considerable share-
holder in the Company ; that I defied him to find fault with my
work or my regularity ; and that I was not minded to receive any
insolent language from him or any man. He said it was always so :
that he had never cherished a young man in his bosom, but the
ingrate had turned on him ; that he was accustomed to wrong and
undutifulness from his children, and that he would pray tliat the
sin might be forgiven me. A moment before he had been cursing
and swearing at me, and speaking to me as if I had been his shoe-
black. But, look you, I was not going to put up with any more
of Madam Brough's airs, or of his. With me they might act as
they tliought fit; but I did not choose that my wife should be
passed over by them, as she had been in the matter of the visit
to Fulliam.
Brougii ended by warning me of Hodge and Smithers. " Beware
of these men," said he ; " but for my honesty, your aunt's landed
property would have been sacrificed by these cormorants : and when,
for her benefit — which you, obstinate young man, will not perceive
— I wished to dispose of her land, her attorneys actually had the
audacity — the unchristian avarice I may say — to ask ten per cent,
commission on the sale."
Tliere might be some truth in this, I thought : at any rate, when
rogues fall out, honest men come by their own : and now I began to
suspect, I am sorry to say, that both the attorney and the Director
had a little of the rogue in their composition. It was especially
about my wife's fortune tliat Mr. B. showed his cloven foot : for
proposing, as usual, that I should purchase shares with it in our
Company, I told him that my wife was a minor, and as such her
little fortune was vested out of my control altogether. He flung
away in a rage at this ; aud I soon saw that he did not care for me
any more, by Abednego's manner to me. No more holidays, no
more advances of money, had I : on the contrary, the private clerk-
ship at £150 was abolished, and I found myself on my £250 a year
again. Well, what then ? it was always a good income, and T did
my duty, and laughed at the Director.
About this time, in the beginning of 1824, the Jc^maica Ginger
Beer Company shut up shop — exploded, as Gus said, witli a bang !
AND THE GEEAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 77
The Patent Pump shares Avcre down to <£15 upon a paid-up capital
of .£65. Still ours were at a high premium; and the Independent
West Diddlesex held its head uj) as proudly as any office in London.
Roundliand's abuse had had some intluence against the Director,
certainly ; for he hinted at malversation of shares : but the Company
still stood as united as the Hand-in-Hand, and as firm as tlie Rock.
To return to the state of atiairs in Bernard Street, Russell
Square : my aunt's old furniture crammed our little rooms ; and
my punt's enormous old jingling grand piano, with crooked legs and
half the strings broken, occupied three-fourths of the little drawing-
room. Here used Mrs. H. to sit, and play us, for hours, sonatas that
were in fashion in Lord Charleville's time ; and sung Avith a cracked
voice, till it was all that we could do to refrain from laughing.
And it was queer to remark the change that had taken place in
Mrs. Hoggarty's character now : for Avhereas she w\as in the country
among the topping persons of tlie village, and quite content with a
tea-party at six and a game of twopenny whist afterwards, — in
London she would never dine till seven ; would have a fly from the
meW'S to drive in the Park twice a week ; cut and mi cut, and rii)ped
up and twisted over and over, all her old gowns, flounces, caps, and
fallals, and kept my poor Mary from morning till night altering
them to the present mode. JMrs. Hoggarty, moreover, appeared in
a new wig ; and, I am sorry to say, turned out with such a pair of
red cheeks as Nature never gave her, and as made all the people in
Bernard Street stare, where they are not as yet used to such fasliions.
Moreover, she insisted upon our establishing a servant in livery,
— a boy, that is, of about sixteen, — who was dressed in one of the
old liveries that she had brought with her from Somersetshire,
decorated Avith new cufts and collars, and new buttons : on the
latter were represented the united crests of the Titmarshes and
Hoggartys, viz., a tomtit rampant and a hog in armour. I tliought
this livery and crest-button ratlier absurd, I must confess ; though
my family is very ancient. And heavens ! Avhat a roar of laughter
was raised in the office one day, Avhen the little servant in the big
livery, with the immense cane, walked in and brought me a message
fi-om ]\Irs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty ! Furthermore, all letters
were delivered on a silver tray. If we had liad a l)al)y, I believe
aunt would have had it down on the tray : Ijut tlicrc was as yet
no foundation for Mr. Smithers's insinuation upon tliat score, any
more than for his other cowardly fabrication before narrated. Aunt
and Mary used to walk gravely up and down the Ncav Road, with
the boy following with his great gold-headed stick ; but though tliere
was all this ceremony and parade, and aunt still talked of her
acquaintances, we did not see a single person from week's end to
78 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
week's end, and a more dismal house than ours could hardly be
found in London town.
On Sundays, Mrs. Hoggarty used to go to St. Pancras Church,
then just built, and as handsome as Covent Garden Theatre ; and
of evenings, to a meeting-house of the Anabaptists : and that day,
at least, Mary and I liad to ourselves, — for we chose to have seats
at the Foundling, and heard the charming music there, and my wife
used to look wistfully in the pretty children's fiices, — and so, for
the matter of that, did I. It was not, however, till a year after
our marriage that she spoke in a way wliich shall be here p;^ssed
over, but which filled both her and me ^vith inexpressible joy.
I remember she had the news to give me on the very day when
the ]\Iuff and Tippet Company shut up, after swallowing a capital
of £300,000, as some said, and m^thing to show for it except a
treaty with some Indians, wlio had afterwards tomahawked the
agent of the Company. Some ])eoplc said there were no Indians,
and no agent to be tomahawked at all ; but that the whole had been
invented in a house in Crutchcd Friars. "Well, I i)iticd poor Tidd,
whose £20,000 were thus gone in a year, and whom I met in the
City tliat day with a most ghastly face. He had £1000 of debts,
he said, and talked of shooting himself; but he was only arrested,
and passed a long time in the Fleet. Mary's delightful news, how-
ever, soon put Tidd and the INIuff and Tippet Company out of my
head ; a.s you may fancy.
Other circumstances now occurred in the City of London which
seemed to show that our Director wa.s — what is not to be found in
Johnson's Dictionary — rather sliaky. Three of his companies had
broken ; four more wore in a notoriously insolvent state ; and even
at the meetings of the directors of the "West Diddlescx, some stormy
words passed, wliich ended in the retirement of several of the board.
Friends of :\Ir. B.'s fillcl up their places : Mr. Puppet, Mr. Straw,
Mr. Query, and other resjjcctable gents, coming forward and joining
the concern. Brough and Hoff dissolved partnership ; and Mr. B.
said he had quite enough to do to manage the I. W. D., and in-
tended gradually to retire from the other affairs. Indeed, such an
Association as ours was enough work for any man, let alone the
parliamentary duties whidi Brough was called on to perform, and
the seventy-two lawsuits which burst upon him as principal director
of the late companies.
Perhaps I should here describe the desperate attempts made by
Mrs. Hoggarty to introduce herself into genteel life. Strange to
say, althoiigh Ave had my Lord Tiptotf s word to the contrary, she
insisted ui)on it tliat she and Lady Drum were intimately related ;
and no sooner did she read in the Morning Post of the arrival of
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 79
her Ladyship and her gi-anddaughters in Loudon, than she ordered
the fly before mentioned, and left cards at their respective houses :
her card, that is — "Mrs. Hoggarty of Castle Hoggarty,"
magnificently engraved in Gothic letters and flourishes ; and ours,
viz., " Mr. and Mrs. S. Titmarsh," which she had printed for the
piu'pose.
She would have stormed Lady Jane Preston's door and forced
her way upstairs, in spite of Mary's entreaties to the contrary, had
the footman who received her card given her the least encourage^
ment ; but that functionary, no doubt struck by the oddity of her
appearance, placed himself in the front of the door, and declared
that he had positive orders not to admit any strangers to his lady.
On which Mrs. Hoggarty clenched her fist out of the coach-window,
and i^romised that she would have hiui turned away.
Yellowplush only burst out laughing at this ; and though aunt
wrote a most indignant letter to Mr. Edmund Preston, complaining
of the insolence of the servants of that right honourable gent, Mr.
Preston did not take any notice of her letter, further th.an to return
it, with a desire that he might not be troubled with such impertinent
visits for the future. A pretty day we had of it when this letter
arrived, owing to my aunt's disappointment and rage in reading the
contents ; for when Solomon brought up the note on the silver tea-
tray as usual, my aunt, seeing Mr, Preston's seal and name at tlie
corner of the letter (which is the common way of writing ado])ted
by those oflicial gents) — my aunt, I say, seeing his name and seal,
cried, "A^o«', Mary, who is right 1" and betted my wife a sixpence
that the envelope contained an invitation to dinner. She never paid
the sixpence, though she lost, but contented herself by abusing ]\Iary
all day, and said I was a poor-spirited sneak for not instantly horse-
whipping Mr. P. A pretty joke, indeed ! They would have hanged
me in those days, as they did the man who shot Mr. Perceval.
And now I should be glad to enlarge upon that experience in
genteel life which I obtained through the perseverance of ]\Irs.
Hoggarty; but it must be owned that my opportunities were but
few, lasting only for the brief period of six months : and also, genteel
society has been fully described already by various authors of novels,
whose names need not here be set down, but who, being themselves
connected with the aristocracy, viz., as members of noble families,
or as footmen or hangers-on thereof, naturally understand tlicir
subject a great deal better than a poor young fellow from a fire-
office can.
There was our celebrated adventirre in the Opera House, whither
Mrs. H. would insist upon conducting us : and where, in a room of
the estabhshment called the crush-room, where the ladies and gents
8o THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
after the music and dancing await the arrival of their carriages (a
pretty figure did our little Solomon cut, by the way, with his big
cane, among the gentlemen of the shoulder-knot assembled in tlie
lobby !) — where, I say, in the crush-room, Mrs. H. rushed up to old
Lady Drum, whom I pouited out to her, and insisted upon claiming
relationship with lier Ladyship. But my Lady Drum had only a
memory when she chose, as I may say, and had entirely on tliis
occasion thouglit fit to forget her connection with the Titmarshes
and Hoggartys. Far from recognising us, indeed, she called ]\Irs.
Hoggarty an "ojus 'oman," and screamed out as loud as possible
for a police-officer.
This and other rebuffs made my aunt perceive tlie vanities of
this wicked world, as she said, and threw her more and more into
really serious society. She formed several very valuable acquaint-
ances, she said, at the Independent Chapel : and among others,
lighted upon her friend of the Rookery, Mr. Grimes Wapshot. We
did not know then the interview which he had had with INIr.
Smithcrs, nor did Grimes think proper to acquaint us with the
particulars of it ; but though I did acquaint Mrs. H. with the fact
that her favourite preacher had been tried for forgery, she replied
that she considered the story an atrocious calumny ; and he answered
by saying that Mary and I were in lamentable darkness, and that
we should infallibly find the way to a certain bottomless pit, of
which he seemed to know a great deal. Under the reverend gentle-
man's guidance and advice, she, after a time, separated from
St. Pancras altogether — " sat binder him,^' as the phrase is, regularly
thrice a week — began to labour in the conversion of the poor of
Bloonisbury and St. Giles's, and made a (leal of baby-linen for
distribution among those benighted jicoplc. She did not make any,
however, for Mrs. Sam Tituiarsh, who now showed signs that such
would be speedily necessary, but let Mary (and my mother and
sisters in Somersetshire) provide what was requisite for the coming
event. I am not, indeed, sure that she did not say it was wrong
on our parts to make any such provision, and that we ought to let
the morrow jirovide for itself. At any rate, the Reverend Grimes
Wapshot drank a deal of brandy-antl-water at our house, and dined
there even oftcner than poor Gus usod to do.
But I had little leism-e to attend to him and his doings ; for
I must confess at this time I was growing very embarrassed in my
circumstances, and was murh harassed both as a ])rivate and public
character.
As regards the former, ]Mrs. Hoggarty liad given me £50 ; but
out of that £50 I had to pay a journey post from Somersetshire, all
the carriage of her goods from the country, the painting, papering,
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 8i
and carpeting of my house, the brandy and strong liquors (h-unk l)y
the Reverend Grimes and his friends (for the reverend gent said
that RosoUo (Ud not agree v\-ith him) ; and finally, a tliousand
small bills and expenses incident to all housekeepers in the town
of London.
Add to this, I received just at the time when I vras most in
Avant of cash, Madame Mantalini's l)ill, Messrs. Howell and James's
ditto, the account of Baron Von Stiltz, and the bill of Mr. Polonius
for the setting of the diamond-] (in. All these bills arrived in a
week, as they have a knack of doing ; and fancy my astonishment
in presenting them to Mrs. Hoggarty, when she said, "Well, my
dear, you are in the receipt of a very fine income. If you choose to
order dresses and jewels from first-rate shops, you must pay for
them ; and don't expect that / am to abet your extravagance, or
give you a shilling more than the munificent sum I pay yuu for
board and lodging ! "
How could I teU Mary of this behaviour of Mrs. Hoggarty,
and Mary in such a delicate condition ? And bad as matters were
at home, I am sorry to say at the office they began to look still
worse.
Not only did Roundhand leave, but Highmore went away.
Abednego became head clerk : and one day old Abednego came to
the place and was shown into the directors' i)rivate room ; when he
left it, he came trembling, chattering, and cursing downstairs ; and
had begun, " Shentlemen " a speech to the very clerks in the
office, when Mr. Brough, with an imploring look, and crying out,
" Stop till Saturday ! " at length got him into the street.
On Saturday Abednego junior left the ofiice for ever, and I
became head clerk Avith £-100 a year salary. It was a fixtal week
for the office, too. On Monday, when I arrived and took my seat
at the head desk, and my first read of the newspaper, as was my
right, the first thing I read was, "Frightful fire in Houndsditch !
Total destruction of Mr. INIeshach's sealing-wax manufactory and of
Mr. Sliadrach's clothing depot, adjoining. In the former was
£20,000 worth of the finest Dutch wax, which tlie voracious
element attacked and devoured in a twinkling. The latter estimable
gentleman had just comjileted forty thousand suits of clothes lor
the cavalry of H.H. the Cacique of Poyais."
Both of these Jewish gents, who were connections of Mr.
Abednego, were insured in our office to the full amount of their loss.
The calamity was attributed to the drunkenness of a scoundrelly
Irish watchman, who was employed on the premises, and wlio upset
a bottle of wliisky in the warehouse of Messrs. Shadrach, and
incautiously looked for the liquor with a lighted candle. The man
82 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
was brouglit to our office by his employers ; and certainly, as we all
could testify, was even then in a state of frightful intoxication.
As if this were not sufficient, in the obituary was announced the
demise of Alderman Pash — Alderman Cally-Pash we used to call
him in our lighter hours, knowing his propensity to green fat : but
such a moment as this was no time for joking ! He was insured
by our house for .£5000. And now I saw very well tlie truth of a
remark of Gus's — viz., that life-assurance companies go on excellently
for a year or two after their establishment, but that it is much more
difficult to make them profitable when the assured parties begin
to die.
The Jewish fires were the heaviest blows we had had ; for
though the Waddingley Cotton-mills had been bunit in 1822, at a
loss to the Comi)any of <£80,000, and though the Patent Erostratus
Match Manufactory had exploded in the same year at a chai'ge of
£14,000, there were those who said that the loss had not been near
so heavy as was supposed — nay, that the Company had burnt the
above-named establishments a.s advertisements for themselves. Of
these facts I can't be positive, having never seen the early accounts
of the concern.
Contrary to the expectation of all us gents, who were ourselves
as dismal as mutes, Mr. Brough came to the office in his coach-and-
four, laughing and joking with a friend as he stepped out at the
door.
"Gentlemen!" said he, "you have read the papers; they
announce an event which I most deeply deplore. I mean the
demise of the excellent Alderman Pash, one of our constituents.
But if anything can console me for the loss of that worthy man, it
is to think that his children and widow will receive, at eleven o'clock
next Saturday, .£5000 from my friend I\Ir. Titmarsh, who is now
head clerk here. As for the accident which has hai)i)cned to
Messrs. Shadi-ach and Meshach,— in that, at least, there is nothing
that can occasion any person sorrow. On Saturday next, or as
soon as the particulars of their loss can be satisfactorily ascertained,
my friend Mr. Titmarsh will pay to them across the counter a sum
of forty, fifty, eighty, one hundred thousand pounds — according to
the amount of their loss. They, at lei\st, will be remunerated ; and
though to our proprietors the outlay will no doubt be considerable,
yet we can afi"ord it, gentlemen. John Brough can aftbrd it him-
self, for the matter of that, and not be very much embarrassed ; and
we must learn to bear ill-fortune as we have hitherto borne good,
and show ourselves to be men always I "
Mr. B. concluded with some allusions, which I confess I don't
like to give here ; for to speak of Heaven in connection with common
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 83
worldly matters, has always appeared to nie irreverent ; and to
bring it to bear witness to the lie in his mouth, as a religious
hypocrite does, is such a frightful crime, that one should be careful
even in alluding to it.
Mr. Brough's speech somehow found its way into the news-
papers of that very evening ; nor can I think who gave a report of
it, for none of our gents left the office that day mitil the evening i)apers
had appeared. But there was the speech — ay, and at tlie week's end,
although Roundhand was heard on 'Change that day declaring he
would bet five to one that Alderman Pasli's money would never be
paid, — at the week's end the money was paid by me to Mrs. Pash's
solicitor across the counter, and no doubt Roundhand lost his money.
Shall I tell hoAV the money was })rocured 1 There can be no
harm in mentioning tlie matter now after twenty years' lapse of
time ; and moreover, it is greatly to the credit of two individuals
now dead.
As I was head clerk, I had occasion to be frequently in Brough's
room, and he now seemed once more disposed to take me into his
confidence.
" Titmarsh, my boy," said he one day to me, after looking me
hard in tlie face, " did you ever hear of the fate of the great
Mr. Silberschmidt, of London 1 " Of course I had. Mr. Silber-
schmidt, the Rothschild of his day (indeed I have heard the latter
famous gent was originally a clerk in Silberschmidt's house) —
Silberschmidt, fimcying he could not meet his engagements, com-
mitted suicide ; and had he lived till four o'clock that day, would
have known that he was worth £400,000. "To tell you frankly
the truth," says Mr. B., " I am in Silberschmidt's case. My late
partner, Hoft', has given bills in the name of the firm to an
enormous amount, and I have been obliged to meet them. I have
been cast in fourteen actions, brought by creditors of that infernal
Ginger Beer Company ; and all tlie debts are put upon my shoulders,
on account of my known wealth. Now, unless I have time, I
cannot pay ; and the long and short of the matter is that if I cannot
procure £5000 before Satiirday, oin- concern is rimied ! "
"What! the West Diddlesex ruined?" says I, thinking of my
poor mother's annuity. " Impossible ! our business is splendid ! "
" We must have £5000 on Saturday, and we are saved ; and if
you will, as you can, get it for me, I will give you £10,000 for
the money ! "
B. then showed me to a fraction the accounts of the concern,
and his own private account ; proving beyond the possibility of a
doubt, that with the £5000 our office must be set agoing; and
without it, that the concern must stop. No matter how he proved
84 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
the thing ; but there is, you know, a dictiom of a statesman that,
give him but leave to use figures, and he will prove anything.
I promised to ask Mrs. Hoggarty once more for the money, and
she seemed not to be disinclined. I told him so ; and that day he
called upon her, his ^vife called upon her, his daughter called upon
her, and once more the Brough carriage-and-four was seen at our
house.
But Mrs. Brough was a bad manager ; and, instead of carrying
matters with a high hand, fairly burst into tears before Mrs.
Hoggarty, and went down on her knees and besought her to save
dear John. This at once aroused my aunt's suspicions ; and instead
of lending the money, she wrote oft' to Mr. Smithers instantly to
come up to her, desired me to give her up the £3000 scrip shares
that I possessed, called me an atrocious cheat and heartless swindler,
and vowed I had been the cause of her ruin.
How was Mr. Brough to get the money? I will tell you.
Being in his room one day, old Gates the Fulham porter came and
brought him from Mr. Balls, the pawnbroker, a sum of £1200.
Missus told him, he said, to carry tlie plate to Mr. Balls ; and
liaving paid tlie money, old Gates fumbled a great deal in his
pockets, and at last pulled out a £5 note, which lie said his
daughter Jane liad just sent him from service, and begged Mr. B.
would let him liave another share in the Company. "He was
mortal sure it would go right yet. And when he heard master
crying and cursing as he and missus were walking in the shrubbery,
and saying that for the want of a few pounds — a few shillings — the
finest fortune in Europe was to be overthrown, why Gates and his
woman thought that they should come for'ard, to be sure, with all
they could, to heli) the kindest master and missus ever was."
This was tlic substance of Gates's si)eech ; and Mr. Brough shook
his hand and — took the £5. "Gates," said he, "that £5 note
shall be the best outlay you ever made in your life ! " and I have no
doubt it was, — but it was in heaven that poor old Gates was to get
the interest of liis little niitc.
Nor was tliis the only instance. Mrs. Brough's sister. Miss
Dough, who had been on bad terms with the Director almost ever
since he had risen to be a great man, came to the ofiice with a
power of attorney, and said, " John, Isabella has been with me this
morning, and says you want money, and I have brought you my
£4000 ; it is all I have, Joim, and pray God it may do you good —
you and my dear sister, who was the best sister in the world to me
— till — till a little time ago."
And she laid down the paper : I was called up to witness it,
and Brough, with tears in his eyes, told me her words ; for he
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 85
could trust me, he said. And tlius it was that I came to be present
at Gates's interview with his master, which took place only an hour
afterwards. Brave Mrs. Brough ! how she Avas working for her
husband ! Good woman, and kind ! but ycm had a true heart,
and merited a better fiite ! Thougli wherefore say so ? The
woman, to this day, thinks her husband an angel, and loves him
a thousand times better for his misfortunes.
On Saturday, Alderman Pash's solicitor was paid l)y me across
tlie counter, as I said. " Never mind your aunt's money, Titmarsh,
my boy," said Brough : " never mind her having resumed her shares.
You are a true honest fellow ; you have never abused me like that
pack of curs downstairs, and I'll make your fortune yet ! "
The next week, as I was sitting with my wife, with Mr.
Smithers, and with Mrs. Hoggarty, taking our tea comfortably, a
knock was heard at the door, and a gentleman desired to speak to
me in the parlour. It was Mr. Aminadab of Chancery Lane, who
arrested me as a shareholder of the Independent West Diddlesex
Association, at the suit of Von Stiltz of Clitiord Street, tailor and
draper.
I called down Smithers, and told him for Heaven's sake not
to tell Mary.
"Where is Brought' says Mr. Smithers.
" Why," says Mr. Aminadab, " he's once more of tlie firm of
Brough and Off, sir — he breakfasted at Calais this morning ! "
CHAPTER XI
7.V WHICH IT APPEARS THAT A MAN MAY POSSESS A DIAMOND,
AND YET BE VERY HARD PRESSED EOR A DINNER
ON that fetal Saturday evening, in a liackney-coach, fetched
from tlae Foundling, was I taken from my comfortable
house and my dear little wife ; whom Mr. Smithers was
left to console as he might. He said that I was compelled to take
a journey upon business connected with the office ; and my poor
Mary made up a little ijortmanteau of clothes, and tied a com-
jDrter round my neck, and bade my companion particularly to
keep the coach windows shut : which injuncti(3n the grinning wretch
promised to obey. Our journey was not long : it was only a
shilling fare to Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane, and there I was
set down.
The house before which the coach stopped seemed to be only
one of half-a-dozen in that street which were used for the same
purpose. No man, be he ever so rich, can pass by those dismal
houses, I think, without a shudder. The front A\andows are barred,
and on the dingy pillar of the door was a shining brass-plate, setting
forth that " Aminadab, Officer to the Slierift" of Middlesex," lived
therein. A little red-haired Israelite opened the first door as our
coach drove up, and received me and my baggage.
As soon jis we entered the door, he barred it, and I found myself
in the face of another huge door, which was strongly locked ; and,
at last, i)assing through that, we entered the lobby of the house.
There is no need to describe it. It is very like ten thousand
other houses in our dark City of London. There was a, dirty passage
and a dirty stair, and from the i^assage two dirty doors let into two
filthy rooms, which had strong bars at the windows, and yet withal
an air of hoi'rible finery that makes me uncomfortable to think of
even yet. On the walls hung all sorts of trumpery pictures in
tawdry frames (how diff"erent from tliose capital performances of my
cousin Michael Angclo !) ; on the mantelpiece huge French clocks,
vases, and candlesticks ; on the sideboards, enormous trays of
Birmingham plated ware : for Mr. Aminadab not only arrested
those who could not pay money, but lent it to those who could ;
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 87
and had already, in the way of trade, sold and bought tliese articlec
many times over.
I agreed to take the hack-parlour for the night, and while a
Hebrew damsel was arranging a little dusky sofa-l)edstead (woe
betide him who has to sleep on it !) I was invited into the front-
parlour, where Mr. Aminadab, bidding me take heart, told me I
should have a dinner for nothing with a party who had just arrived.
I did not want for dinner, but I was glad not to be alone — not
alone, even till Gus came; for whom I despatched a messenger to
his lodgings liard by.
I found there, in the front-parlour, at eight o'clock in the
evening, four gentlemen, just about to sit down to dinner. Sur-
prising ! there was Mr, B., a gentleman of fashion, who had only
within half-an-hour arrived in a post-chaise with his companion,
Mr. Lock, an othcer of Horsham gaol. Mr. B. was arrested in
this wise : He was a careless good-humoured gentleman, and liad
indorsed bills to a large amount for a friend ; who, a man of high
family and un(iuestionable honour, had jjledged the latter, along
with a number of the most solenui oaths, for the payment of the
bills in question. Having indorsed the notes, young Mr. B., with
a proper thoughtlessness, forgot all about them, and so, by some
chance, did the friend wdiom he obliged ; for, instead of being in
London with the money for the payment of his obligations, this
latter gentleman was travelling abroad, and never hinted one word
to Mr. B. that the notes would fall u\Hm him. The young gentleman
was at Brighton lying sick of a fever ; was taken from his bed by
a bailiii", and carried, on a rainy day, to Horsham gaol ; had a
relapse of his complaint, and when sufficiently recovered, was
brought up to London to the house of Mr. Aminadab ; where I
found him — a pale, thin, good-humoured, lost young man : he was
lying on a sofo, and had given orders for the dinner to which I was
invited. The lad's face gave one i>ain to look at; it was imi)ossible
not to see that his hours were numbered.
Now Mr. B. has not anything to do with my humble story;
but I can't help mentioning him, as I saw him. He sent for his
lawyer and his doctor ; the former settled speedily his accounts
with the bailiti', and the latter arranged all his earthly accounts :
for after he went from the sjiunging-house he never recovered froUi
the shock of the arrest, an(h in a few weeks he died. And tlmugh
this circumstance took place many years ago, I can't forget it to
my dying day ; and often see the author of Mr. B.'s death, — a
prosperous gentleman, riding a fine hoi-se in the Park, lounging at
the window of a club ; with many friends, no doubt, and a good
reputation. I wonder whether the man sleeps easily and eats with
88 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
a good appetite'? I wonder whether he has paid Mr. B.'s heirs the
sum which that gentleman paid, and died for ?
' If Mr. B."s history has nothing to do with mine, and is only-
inserted here for the sake of a moral, what business have I to
mention particulars of the dinner to which I was treated by that
gentleman, in the spunging-house in Cursitor Street? Why, for
the moral too; and therefore the public must be told of what
really and truly that dinner consisted.
There were five guests, and three silver tureens of soup : viz.,
mock-turtle soup, ox-tail soup, and giblct soup. Next came a
great piece of salmon, likewise on a silver dish, a roast goose, a
roast saddle of mutton, roast game, and all sorts of adjuncts. In
this way can a gentleman live in a spunging-house if he be inclined ;
and over this repast (which, in truth, I could not touch, for, let
alone having dined, my heart was full of care) — over this meal my
friend Gus Hoskins found me, when he received the letter that I
had despatched to him.
Gus, who had never been in a prison before, and whose heart
failed him as the red-headed young Moses opened and shut for him
the luunerous iron outer doors, was struck dumb to see me behind
a bottle of claret, in a room blazing with gilt lamps ; the curtains
were down too, and you could not see the bars at the windows ; and
Mr. B., Mr. Lock the Brighton officer, Mr. Aminadab, and another
rich gentleman of his trade and religious persuasion, were chirping
as mei-rily, and looked as respectably, as any noblemen in the land.
" Have him in," said Mr. B., " if he's a friend of Mr. Titmarsh'c;
for, cuss me, I like to see a rogue : and run me through, Titmarsh,
but I think you are one of the best in London. You beat Brough ;
you do, by Jove ! for he looks like a rogue — anybody would swear
to him ; but you ! by Jove, you look the very picture of honesty ! "
" A deep file," said Aminadab, winking and pointing me out to
his friend ]\Ir. Jehoshaphat.
" A good one," says Jehoshaphat.
" In for three hundred thousand pound," says Aminadab :
" Brough's right-hand man, and only threc-and-twenty."
"Mr. Titmarsh, sir, your 'ealth, sir," says Mr. Lock, in an
ecstasy of admiration. "Your very good 'ealth, sir, and better luck
to you next time."
' " Pooh, pooh ! he's all right,'.' says ihninadab; "let him alone."
" In for what .? " shouted I, quite amazed. " Why, sir, you
arrested me for £90."
"Yes, but you are in for half a million, — you know you are.
Them debts I don't count — them paltry tradesmen's accounts. I
mean Brough's business. It's an ugly one ; but you'll get through
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 89
it. We all know you ; and I lay my life that when you come
through the court, Mrs. Titmarsh has got a handsome thing laid by."
"Mrs. Titmarsh has a small property, sir," savs I. "What
then?"
The three gentlemen burst into a loud laugh, said I was a
" rum chap " — a " downy cove," and made other remarks which
I could not understand then ; but the meaning of which I have
since comprehended, for they took me to be a great rascal, I am
sorry to say, and supposed that I had robbed the I. W. D.
Association, and, in order to make my money secure, settled it on
my wife.
It was in the midst of this conversation that, as I said, Gus
came in ; and whew ! when he saw what was going on, ho ga\'c
such a whistle !
" Herr von Joel, by Jove ! " says Aminadab. At which all
laughed.
"Sit down," says Mr. B., — "sit down, and wet your whistle,
my piper ! I say, egad ! you're the pijier that played before
Moses ! Had you there. Dab. Dal), get a fresh bottle of Bur-
gundy for Mr. Hoskins." And before he knew where he was,
there was Gus for the first time in his life drinking Clos-Yougeot.
Gus said he liad never tasted Bergamy before, at which the bailiff
sneered, and told him the name of the wine.
" Old Clo ! What ? " says Gus ; and we laughed : l;)ut the
Hebrew gents did not this time.
" Come, come, sir ! " says Mr. Aminadab's friend, " ve're all
shentlemen here, and shentlemen never makish reflexunsh upon
other gentlemeu'sh pershuashunsh."
After this feast was concluded, Gus and I retired to my room
to consult about my afi'airs. With regard to the responsibility
incurred as a shareholder in the West Diddlesex, I was not uneasy ;
for though the matter might cause me a little trouble at first, I
knew I was not a shareholder ; that the shares were scrip shares,
making the dividend payable to the bearer ; and my aunt had called
back her shares, and consequently I was free. But it was very
unpleasant to me to consider that I was in debt nearly a lumdred
pounds to tradesmen, chiefly of Mrs. Hoggarty's recommendation ;
and as she had promised to be answerable fcjr their bills, I deter-
mined to send her a letter reminding her of her promi^^e, and
begging her at the same time to relieve me from Mr. Von Stiltz's
debt, for which I was arrested : and which was incurred not certainly
at her desire, but at Mr. Brough's ; and would never have been
incurred by me but at the absolute demand of that gentleman.
I wrote, to her, therefore, begging her to pay all these debts,
I
90 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
and promised myself on Monday morning again to be with my dear
wife. Gus carried off the letter, and promised to deliver it in Ber-
nard Street after church-time ; taking care that Mary shoidd know
nothing at all of the painful situation in which I was placed. It was
near midnight when Ave parted, and I tried to sleep as well as I could
in the dirty little sofa-bedstead of Mr. Aminadab's back-parloiu*.
Tliat morning was fine and sunshiny, and I heard all the bells
ringing cheerfully for church, and longed to be walking to the
Foundling with my wife : but there were the three iron doors
between me and liberty, and I had notliing for it but to read my
prayers in my own room, and walk up and down afterwards in the
court at the back of the house. Would you believe it 1 This very
court was like a cage ! Great iron liars covered it in fi"om one end
to another ; and here it was that ]Mr. Aminadab's gaol-birds took
the air.
They had seen me rending out of the prayer-book at the back-
parlour window, and all burst into a yell of laughter when I came
to walk in the cage. One of them shouted out " Amen ! " when I
appeared; another called me a muff (which means, in the slang
langixage, a very silly fellow) ; a third wondered that I took to
my prayer-book i/et.
" When do you mean, sir?" says I to the fellow — a rough man,
a horse-dealer.
Why, when you are lioing to he hanged, you young hypocrite!"
says the man. " But that is always the way with Brough's people,"^
continued he. " I had four gi'eys once for him — a great bargain,
but he would not go to look at them at Tattersall's, nor speak a
word of business about them, because it was a Sunday."
" Because there are hyi)0crite3, sir," says I, " religion is not to
be considered a bad thing : and if Mr. Brough would not deal with
you on a Sunday, he certainly did his duty."
The men only laughed the more at this rebuke, and evidently
considered me a great criminal. I was glad to be released from
their society by the a]ipearance of Gus and ^Ir. Smithers. Both wore
very long faces. They were ushered into my room, and, without
any orders of mine, a bottle of wine and biscuits were brought in
by Mr. Aminadab ; which I really thought Avas very kind of him.
" Drink a glass of wine, Mr. Titmarsh," says Smithers, " and
read this letter. A pretty note was tliat which you sent to your
aunt this moniing, and here you have an answer to it."
I drank the wine, and trembled rather as I read as follows : —
" SiK, — If, because you knew I had desined to leave you my
prop;irty, you wished to murdar me, and so stepp into, it, you are
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 91
»lissiii)oint(Ml. Your mlliany and ingratitude would have miirdard
me, had I not, by Heiivcn's grace, been uiabled to lo<>k for consala-
tiou elsewhere.
" For nearly a year I liavc been a inartar to yon. I ,s;ave up
everything, — my happy home in the country, Avlierc all respected
the name <:»f Hoggtu'ty ; my valuble furnitur and wines ; my plate,
glass, and crockry ; I brought all — all to make your home happy
and ri.spectable. I put up with the airs and im2)e7-tane7icies of
Mrs. Titmarsh ; I loaded her and you with presents and bennafits.
I saorafised myself; I gave up the l>est sociaty in the land, to witch
I have been accustomed, in order to te a gardian and compannion
to you, and prevent, if ])ossible, that waist and ixtravyijance which
I prophycied would l^e your rain. Such waist and ixtravygance
never, never, never did I see. Buttar waisted as if it had been
dirt, coles Hung away, candles burnt at both ends, tea and meat the
same. The butclier's bill in this house was enough to support six
famalies.
" And now you have the awlassaty, being placed in i)risun justly
for your ci"imes, — for cheating me of ^3000, for robbing your mother
of an iusignificient summ, which to her, jjour thing, was everything
(though she Avill not feel her loss as I do, lieing all her life next door
to a beggar), for incurring detts which you cannot ])ay, wherein you
knew that your miserable income was quite unable to support your
ixtravygance — you come upon me to i)ay your detts ! No, sir, it is
quite enough that your mother should go oft the parish, and that
your wife should sweep the streets, to which you have indeed brought
them ; /, at least, tliougli cheated by you of a large sunnn, and
obliged to pass my days in comparitive niin, can retire, and have
some of the comforts to which my rank e!ititles me. The furnitur
in this house is mine ; and as I presume you intend your lady to
sleep in the streets, I give you warning that I shall remove it all
to-moiT<:)W.
"Mr. Smithers will tell you that I had intended to leave you
my intire fortune. I have this morning, in his presents, solamly
toar up my will ; and hereby renounce all connection with you and
yom- beggOTly family, Susan Hoggakty.
"P.jS'. — I took a viper into my lx)Som, and it stwui ■me.'"
I confess that, on tlie first reading of this letter, I was in such
a fury that I forgot almost the painful situation in which it jilimged
me, and the ruin hanging over me.
" What a fool you Avere, Titmarsh, to wnte that letter ! " s;xid
Mr. Smithers. " You have cut your own throat, sir, — lost a fine
92 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMAESH
property, — ^written yourself out of five hundred a year. Mrs.
Hoggarty, my client, brought the will, as she says, downstairs, and
flung it into the fire before our faces."
" It's a blessing that your wife was from home," added Gus.
" She went to church this morning with Dr. Salt's fomily, and sent
word that she would spend the day with them. She was always
glad to be away from Mrs. H., you know."
" She never knew on which side her bread was buttered," said
Mr. Smithers. "You should have taken the huly when she was in
the humour, sir, and have borrowed the money elsewhere. Why,
sir, I had almost reconciled her to her loss in that cursed Comjiany.
I showed her how I had saved out of Brough's claws the whole of
her remaining fortune ; which he would have devoured in a day, the
scoundrel ! And if you would have left the matter to me, Mr.
Titmarsh, I would have had you reconciled completely to IMrs.
Hoggarty ; I would have removed all your difficulties ; I would have
lent you the pitiful sum of money myself"
"Will you?" says Gus; "that's a tnimp I " and he seized
Sraithers's hand, and squeezed it so that the tears came into the
attorney's eyes.
" Generous fellow ! " said I ; " lend me money, when you know
wliat a situation I am in, and not able to pay I "
" Ay, my good sir, there's the rub ! " says Mr. Smithers. " I
said I would have lent the money ; and so to the acknowledged
heir of Mrs. Hoggarty I would — would at this moment ; for nothing
delights the heart of Bob Smithers more than to do a kindness.
I would have rejoiced in ditinL,^ it ; and a mere acknowledgment
from that respected lady would have amply sufficed. But now,
sir, the case is altered, — you have no security to offer, as you
justly observe."
" Not a whit, certainly."
" And Avith:)ut security, sir, of course can expect no money — of
course not. You are a man of the world, Mr. Titmarsh, and I see
our notions ex;\ctly agi^ee."
" There's his wife's property," says Gus.
"Wife's property ? Bah ! Mrs. Sam Titmarsh is a minor, and
can't touch a shilling of it. No, no, no meddling with minors for
me ! But stop ! — your mother has a house and shop in our village.
Get me a mortgage of that "
" I'll do no such thing, sir," says I. " My mother has suffered
quite enough on my score already, and has my sisters to provide
for ; and I will thank you, Mr. Smithers, not to breathe a syllable
to her regarding my present situation.'"
'You speak like a man of honour, sir," says Mr. Smithers,
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 93
" ami I -will obey your injunctions to the letter. I will do more,
sir. I will introduce you to a respectable firm here, iny worthy
friends, Messrs. Higgs, Bigg.s, and Blatliefwick, who will do every-
thing in their power to serve you. And so, sir, I wish you a very
good morning."
And with this Mr. Smithere took his hat and left the room ;
and after a fiu'ther consultation with my aunt, as I heard afterwards,
quitted London that evening by the mail.
I sent my faithful Gus off" once more to break the matter gently
to my wife, fearing lest Mrs. Hoggarty sliou.ld speak of it abrujitly
to her ; as I knew in her anger she would do. But he came in an
hour ])anting back, to say that Mrs. H. had packed and locked her
trunks, and had gone oft' in a hackney-coach. So, knowing that my
poor Mary was not to return till night, Hoskins remained with me
till tlien ; and, after a dismal day, left me once more at nine, to
carry the dismal tidings to her.
At ten o'clock on that night there was a great rattling and
ringing at the outer door, and jjresently my poor girl fell into my
arms ; and Gus Hoskins sat blubbering in a corner, as I tried my
best to console her.
The next morning I was favoured with a visit from Mr. Blather
wick ; who, hearing from me that I had only three guineas in my
pocket, told me very plainly that lawyers only lived by fees. He
recommended me to quit Cursitor Street, as living there was very
expensive. And as I was sitting very sad, my wife made her a]>pear-
ance (it was -ftith great difficulty that she could be lirought to leave
me the night i:)revious) —
" The horrible men came at four this morning," said she ; " four
hours before light."
" What hon-ible men 1 " says I.
"Your aunt's men," said she, "to remove the furniture: they
had it all packed before I came away. And I let them carry all,"
said she ; " I was too sad to look Avhat was ours and what was not.
That odious Mr. Wapshot wjis with them ; and I left him seeing the
last waggon-load from the door. I have only brought away your
clothes," added she, " and a few of mine ; and some of the books you
used to like to read ; and some— some things I have been getting for
the— for the baby. The servants' wages were paid up to Christmas ;
and I i)aid them the rest. And see ! just as I was going away,^ the
post came, and brought to me my half-year's income — £35, dear Sam.
Isn't it a blessing 1 "
"Will you pay my bill, Mr. What-d'ye-call-'im ? " here cried
Mr. Amlnadab, flinging open the door (he had been consulting with
9
94 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
Mr. Blatherwick, I suppose). " I want the room for a (lentleman.
guess it's too dear for the Uke of you." And here — will you believe
it ? — tlie niiin handed me a bill of three guineas for two days' board
and lodging in his odious house.
• •••••*
There was a crowd of idlers round the door as I passed out of it,
and had I been alone I should have been ashamed of seeing them ;
but, as it was, I was only thinking of my dear deax wife, who was
leaning trustfully on my arm, and smiling like heaven int(3 my foce —
ay, and took heaven, too, into tlie Fleet prison with me — or an angel
out of hcixven. All ! I had loved her before, and happy it is to love
wlien one is hopeful and young in the midst of smiles and sunshine ;
but be 7<«happy, and then sec what it is to be li .vcd by a good woman !
I declare before Heaven, that of all tlie joys and hapjty moments it has
given me, that was the crowning one — that little ride, with my wife's
cheek on my shoulder, down Holborn to the jnnson ! Do you think
I cared for the bailiff that sat oppa'ite ] No, by the Lord ! I kissed
her, and hugged her — yes, and cried with her likewise. But before
our ride was over her eyes dried up, and she stepped blushing and
happy out of tlie coach at the prison door, as if she were a prmcess
going to the Queen's Drawing-room.
CHAPTER XII
IN WHICH THE HERO'S AUNT'S DIAMOND MAKES ACQUAINT- •
ANCE WITH THE HERO'S UNCLE
THE failure of the great Diddlesex Association speedily became
the theme of all the newspapers, and every person concerned
in it was soon held up to public abhorrence as a rascal and a
swindler. It was said that Brough had gone otf with a million of
money. Even it was hinted that poor I had sent a hundred
thousand pounds to America, and only waited to pass through the
court in order to be a rich man for the rest of my days. This
opinion had some supporters in the prison ; where, strange to say,
it procured me consideration — of which, as may be sui)i)0sed, I was
little inclined to avail myself. Mr. Aminadab, however, in his
frequent visits to the Fleet, persisted in saying that I was a poor-
spirited creature, a mere tool in Brough's hands, and had not saved
a shilling. Ojiinions, however, diti'ered ; and I believe it was con-
sidered by the turnkeys that I was a fellow of exquisite dissimula-
tion, who had put on tlie apjiearance of poverty in order more
effectually to mislead the jaiblic.
Messrs. Abcdnego and Son were similarly held up to public
odium : and, in fact, what were the exact dealings of these gentle-
men with Mr. Brougli I have never been able to learn. It was
]iroved by the books that large sums of money had lieen paid to
Mr. Abednego by the Company ; but lie produced documents signed
by Mr. Brough, which made the latter and the West Diddlesex
Association his debtors to a still further amount. On the day I
went to the Bankruptcy Court to be examined, Mr. Abednego and
the two gentlemen from Houndsditch were present to swear to their
debts, and made a sad noise, and uttered a vast number of oaths in
attestation of their claim. But Messrs. Jackson and Paxton pro-
tluced against them' that very Irish porter who was said to have been
the cause of the fire, and, I am told, hinted that they had matter
for hanging the Jewish gents if they persisted in their demand. On
this they disappeared altogether, and no more was ever heard of
their losses. I am inclined to believe that oiu- Director had had
money from Abednego— had given him shares as bonus and security
96 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
— had been suddenly obliged to redeem these shares with ready
money ; and so had precipitated the ruin of himself and the concern.
It is needless to say here in what a multiplicity of companies Brough
was engaged. That in which i)oor Mr. Tidd invested his money did
not pay 2d. in the pound ; and that was the largest di\'idend paia
by any of tliem.
As for ours — ah ! there was a pretty scene as I was brought
from the Fleet to the Bankruptcy Court, to give my testimony as
late head clerk and accountant of the West Diddlesex Association.
My poor wife, then very near her time, insisted upon accompany-
ing me to Basinghall Street ; and so did my friend Gus Hoskins,
that true and honest follow. If you had seen the crowd that was
asticmbled, and the hubbub that was made as I was brouglit up !
" Mr. Titmarsh," says the Commissioner as I came to the table,
with a peculiar sarcastic accent on the Tit — " Mr. Titmarsh, yon
were the confidant of Mr. Brough, the ])rincipal clerk of Mr. Brough,
and a considerable shareholder in tlio Company ? "
" Only a nominal one, sir," said I.
" Of course, only nominal," continued the Commissioner, turning
to his colleague with a sneer; "and a great comfort it must be to
you, sir, to think that you liad a share in all the plan — the profits
of the speculation, and now can free yourself from the losses, by
«aying you are only a nominal shareholder."
"The infernal villain!" shouted out a voice from the crowd.
It was that of the furious half-pay captain and late shareholder,
Captain Sjjarr.
"Silence in the court there!" the Commissioner continued:
and all this while Mary was anxiously looking in his fiice, and
then in mine, as pale as death ; while Gus, on the contrary, was
as red as vermilion. "Mr. Titmarsh, I have had the good fortune
to see a list of your debts from the Insolvent Court, and find that
you are indebted to Mr. Stiltz, the great tailor, in a handsome sum ;
to Mr. Polonius, the celebrated jeweller, likewise; to foshionable
milliners and dressmakers, moreover; — and all this upon a salary
of £200 per annum. For so yoxmg a gentleman it must be con-
fessed you have employed your time well."
"Has this anything to do with the question, sir?" says I
"Am I here to give an account of my private debts, or to speak
as to what I know regarding the aftairs of the Company 1 As for
my share in it, I have a mother, sir, and many sisters "
" The d — d scoundrel ! " shouts the Captain.
" Silence that there fellow ! " shouts Gus, as bold as brass ,• at
which the court burst out laughing, and this gave me courage lo
proceed.
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 97
" My mother, sir, four years since, having a legacy of £400 left
to her, advised with her solicitor, Mr, Smithers, how she should
disjjose of this sum ; and as the Independent West Diddlesex was
just then established, the money was placed in an annuity in that
office, where I procured a clerkship. You may suppose me a very
hanlened criminal, because I have ordered clothes of Mr. Von
Stiltz ; but you will hardly fancy that I, a lad of nineteen, knew
anything of the concerns of tlie Company into whose service I
entered as twentieth clerk, my own mother's money paying, as it
were, for my place. "Well, sir, the interest offered by the Company
was so tempting, that a ricli relative of mine was induced to
purchase a uumber of shares."
" IVho induced your relative, if I may make so bold as to
inquire ? "
" I can't help owning, sir," says I, blushing, " that I wrote a
letter myself But consider, my relative was sixty years old, and
I was twenty-one. My relative took several months to consider,
and had the advice of her lawyers before she acceded to my request.
And I made it at the instigation of Mr. Brough, who dictated the
letter which I wrote, and who I really thought tlien was as rich
as Mr. Rothschild himself"
"Your friend placed her money in your name; and you, if I
mistake not, Mr. Titmarsh, were suddenly placed over the heads
of twelve of y(3ur fellow-clerks as a reward for your service in
obtaining it ? "
" It is very true, sir," — and, as I confessed it, poor Mary began
to wipe her eyes, and Gus's cars (I could not see his face) looked
like two red-hot nuiffins — "it's quite true, sir; and, as matters
have turned out, I am heartily sorry for what I did. But at the
time I thought I could serve my aunt as well as myself; and you
must remember, then, how high our shares were."
"Well, sir, having procured this sum of money, you were
straightway taken into Mr. Brough's confidence. You were re-
ceived into his house, and from third clerk speedily became head
clerk ; in which post you were found at tlie disappearance of your
worthy patron ! '
" Sir, you have no right to question me, to be sure ; but here
are a hundred of our shareholders, and I'm not uuAvilling to make
a clean breast of it," said I, pressing Mary's hand. " I certainly
iras the head clerk. And why 1 Because the other gents left tlie
office. I certainly was received into Mr. Brough's house. And
why '? Because, sir mj/ aunt had more money to lay otit. I see
it all clearly now, tliough I could not understand it then ; and the
proof tliat Mr. Brough wanted my aunt's money, and not me, is
I
98 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
that, when she came to town, our Director carried her by force
out of my house to Fulham, and never so much as thought of
asking me or my wife tliither. Ay, sir, and he woidd have had
her remaining money, had not her lawyer from the country pre-
vented her disposing of it. Before the concern finally broke, and
as soon as she heard there was doubt concerning it, she took back
her shares — scrip shares they were, sir, as you know — and has dis-
posed of them as she thought fit. Here, sir, and gents," says I,
" you have the whole of the historj- as far as regards me. In order
to get her only son a means of livelihood, my mother placed her
little money with the Company — it is lost. My aunt invested
larger sums with it, which were to have been mine one day, and
they are lost too ; and here am I, at the end of four years, a dis-
graced and ruined man. Is tliere any one iiresent, however nuieh
he lias suffered by the failure of the Company, that has had worse
fortune through it than I ? "
" Mr. Titmarsh," says Mr. Commissioner, in a much more
friendly way, and at the same time casting a glance at a news-
paper reporter that was sitting hard by, " your story is not likely
to get into the ncwspajjcrs ; for, as you say, it is a private affair,
which you had no need to sjK-ak of unless you thought proper, and
may be considered as a confidential conversation between us and
the other gentlemen here. But if it cmdd be made public, it might
do some good, and warn peojjle, if they tvill be warned, against tlie
folly of such enterprises as that in which you have been engaged.
It is quite clear from your story, that you have been deceived as
grossly as any one of the persons jiresent. But look you, sir, if you
had not been so eager after gain, I think you wouM not have allowed
yourself to be deceived, and would have kei)t your relative's money,
and inherited it, according to your story, one day or other. Directly
peoi)le expect to make a large interest, their judgment seems to
desert them ; and because they wish for profit, they think they are
sure of it, and disregard all warnings and all prudence. Besides
the hundreds of honest families Avho have l)een ruined by merely
placing confidence in this Association of yours, and who deserve the
heartiest pity, there are hundreds more who have embarked in it,
like yourself, not for investment, but for speculation ; and these,
u]>!in my word, deserve the fate they have met with. As long as
dividends are paid, no questions are asked ; and Mr. Brough might
have taken the money for his shareholders on the high-road, and
they would have pocketed it, and not been too curious. But what's
the use of talking ? " says Mr. Commissioner, in a passion : " here
is one rogue detected, and a thousand dupes made ; and if another
swindler starts to-morrow, there will be a thousand more of his
I
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 99
victims round this table a year hence; and so, I suppose, to tho
end. And now let's go to business, gentlemen, and excuse this
sermon."
After giving an account of all I knew, which was very little,
other gents who were employed in the concern were examined ; and
I went back to prison, with my poor little wife on my arm. We
had to pass through the crowd in the rooms, and my heart bled as
I saw, amongst a score of others, poor Gates, Brough's porter, who
liad advanced every shilling to his master, and was now, with ten
children, houseless and penniless in his old age. Ca|)tain Sparr was
in this neighbourhood, but by no means so friendly disposed ; for
while Gates touched his hat, as if I had been a lord, the Httle
Captain came forward threatening with his bamboo-cane and swear-
ing with great oaths that I was an accomplice of Brough. "Curse
you for a smooth-faced scoundrel ! " says he. "What l)usiness have
you to ruin an English gentleman, as you have me 1 " And again
he advanced witli his stick. But this time, officer as he was, Gus
took him by the collar, and shoved him Ijack, and said, " Look at
the lady, you brute, and hold your tongue ! " And when he looked
at my wife's situation. Captain Si)arr became redder for shame than
he had before been for anger. "I'm sorry she's married to such a
good-ibr-notliing," muttered he, and fell back; and my poor Avife
and I walked out of the court, and back to our dismal room in
the prison.
It was a hard place for a gentle creature like her to be confined
in ; and I longed to have some of my relatives with her when her
time should come. But her grandmother could not leave tlie old
lieutenant; and my mother had written to say that, as Mrs.
Hoggarty was with us, she was quite as well at home with her
children. "What a blessing it is for you, under your misfortunes,"
continued the good soul, " to have the generous purse of your aunt
for succour ! " Generous purse of my aunt, indeed ! Where could
Mrs. Hoggarty be ? It was evident that she had not written to any
of her friends in the country, nor gone thither, as she threatened.
But as my mother had already lost so much money through my
unfortunate luck, and as she had enough to do with her little idttance
to keep my sisters at home ; and as, on hearing of my condition,
she would infiiUibly have sold her last gown to bring me aid, IMary
and I agreed that we would not let her know what our real condi-
tion was — bad enough ! Heaven knows, and sad and cheerless. Old
Lieutenant Smith had likewise nothing but his half-pay and hi*
rheumatism ; so we were, in feet, quite friendless.
Tiiat period of my life, and that horrible prison, seem to me
like recollections of some fever. What an awful jilace ! — not for
I
loo THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
the sadness, strangely enough, as I thought, but for the gaiety of
it ; for the long prison galleries were, I remember, full of life and a
sort of grave bustle. All day and all night doors were clapping to
and fro ; and you heard loud voices, oaths, footsteps, and laughter.
Next door to our room was one where a man sold gin, imder the
name of tai^e ; and here, from moniing till night, the people kept
up a horrible revelry ; — and sang — sad songs some of them : but
my dear little girl "was, thank God ! unable to understand the most
part of their ribaldry. She never used to go out till nightfall ,- and
all day she sat working at a little store of caps and dresses for the
exjjcctcd stranger — and not, she says to this day, luihappy. But
the confinement sickened her, who had been used to happy coimtry
air, and she grew daily paler and paler.
The Fives Court was opposite our window ; and here I used,
very unwillingly at first, but afterwards, I do coHfess, with much
eagerness, to take a couple of hours' daily sport. All ! it was a
strange place. There was an aristocracy there r..5 elsewhere, —
amongst other gents, a son of my Lord Deuccacc ; and many of the
men in the prison were as eager to walk with him, and talked of
his family as knowingly, as if they were Bond Street bucks. Poor
Tidd, especially, was one of these. Of all Ids fortune he had
nothing left but a dressing-case and a flowered dressing-gown ; and
to these possessions he added a fine pair of moustaches, with which
the poor creature stmtted about ; and thougli cursing his ill-fortune,
was, I do believe, as happy whenever his friends brought him a
guinea, as he had been during his brief career as a gentleman on
town. I liave seen sauntering dandies in watering-places ogling the
wonien, watching cagcrlv for steamboats and stage-coaches as if
their lives depended upon them, and strutting all day in jackets up
and down the public walks. Well, there are such fellows in prison :
quite as dandifidl and foolish, only a little more shabby — dandies
Avith dirty bcai'ds and holes at tlicir elbows.
I did not go near what is called the poor side of the prison — I
dared not, that was the fact. But our little stock of money was
running lovi^ ; and my heart sickened to think what might be my
dear wife's fate, and on what sort of a couch our child might bo
born. Bit Heaven spared me that pang, — Heaven, and my dear
good friend, Gus Hoskins.
The attorneys to whom Mr. Smithers recommended me, told ino
that I could get leave to live in the rules of the Fleet, coidd I
procure sureties to the marshal of the prison for the amount of the
detainer lodged against me ; but though I looked ]\Ir. Blathci'U'ick
hard in the face, he never offered to give the bail for me, and I
knew no housekeeper in London who would procure it. There was,
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND
lor
however, one whom I did not know, — and that was old Mr. Hoskins,
the leatherseller of Skinner Street, a kind fat gentleman, who
brought liis flit wife to see Mrs. Titmaisli ; and tliough the lady
gave lierself rather patronising airs (her husband being free of tho
Skinners' Company, and bidding fair to be Alderman, nay, Lord
Mayor of the first city in the world), she seemed heartily to sympa-
thise witli us ; and her husband stirred and bustled about until
the requisite leave was obtained, and I was allowed comparative
liberty.
As for lodgings, tliey were soon had. My old landlady, Mrs.
Stokes, sent lier Jemima to say that her first floor was at our
service ; and when we had taken possession of it, and I ofiered at
the end of the week to pay her bill, the good soul, with tc;xi-s in
her eyes, told me tliat she did not want for money now, ami that
she knew I had enough to do with Avliat I had. I did not refuse
her kindness ; for, indeed, I had but five guineas left, and ought
not by rights to have thought of such expensive apartments as
hers ; but my wife's time was very neai-, and I could not bear to
think tliat she sliould want for any comfort in her lying-in.
The admirable woman, with whom the Misses Hoskins came
everyday to keep coiupany — and very nice, kind ladies tlicy are —
recovered her hculth a good deal, now she Avas out of the odious
prison and was enabled to take exercise. How gaily did we pace
up and down Bridge Street and Chatham Place, to be sure ! and
yet, in truth, I was a beggar, and felt sometimes ashamed of being
so hap])y.
With regard to the liabilities of the Company my mind was
now made quite easy ; for the creditors could only come upon oiu-
directors, and these it was rather difiicult to find. Mr. Brough was
across the water ; and I must say, to the credit of that gentleman,
that while everybody thought he had run away with hundreds of
thousands of poimds, he was in a garret at Boulogne, -with sctu'ce a
shilling in his pocket, and his fortune to make afresh. Mrs. Brough.
like a good brave woman, remained faithful to him, and only left
Fulhaui with the gown on her back ; and Miss Belinda, though
grumbling and sadly out of temper, was no better ott". For the
other directors, — Avhcn they came to inquire at Edinburgh for Mr.
Mull, W.S., it appeared there tvas a gentleman of tliat name, who
had practised in Edinburgh with good reputation until ISOO, f ince
when he had retired to the Isle of Skye ; and on being a])plied to,
knew no more of the West Diddlesex Association than Queen Anne
did: General Sir Dionysius O'Halloran had abruptly quitted
Dublin, and returned to the repul)Uc of Guatemala. Mr. Shirk
went into the Gazette. Mr. Macraw, M.P. and King's Counsel,
102 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
had not a single guinea in the world but what he received for at-
tending our board ; and the only man seizable was Mr. Manstraw,
a wealthy navy contractor, as we understood, at Chatham. He
turned out to be a small dealer in marine stores, and his whole
stock in trade was not worth £10. Mr. Abednego was the other
director, and we have already seen what became of him.
" Wliy, as there is no danger from the West Diddlesex,"' sug-
gested Mr, Hoskins, senior, "should you not now endeavour to
make an arrangement with your creditors ; and who can make a
better bargain with them than i)retty Mi^. Titmarsh liere, whose
sweet eyes woidd soften the hardest-hearted tailor or milliner that
ever lived ? "
Accordingly my dear girl, one bright day in February, shook me
by the hand, and bidding me be of good cheer, .set forth with Gus
ill a coach, to pay a visit to those persons. Little did I think a
year before, that the daughter of the gallant Smith shoidd ever be
compelled to be a Rupi)liant to tailors and liahcrdashers ; but she.
Heaven bless her ! felt none of the shame which oppressed me — or
sf.iid she felt none — and went away, nothing doubting, on her errand.
In the evening she came back, and my heart thumped to know
the news. I savr it was bad by her face. For some time she did
not speak, but looked as jiale as death, and wept as she kissed me.
" You speak, Mr. Augustus," at la.st said slie, sobbing ; and so Gus
told me the circumstances of that dismal day
" What do you think, Sam ? " says he ; " that infernal aunt of
yours, at whose command you had tlie things, luxs written to the
tradesmen to say that you are a swindler and impostor ; that you
give out that she ordered the goods ; that she is ready to drop di>wn
dead, and to take her Bible-oath she never did any such thing, and
that they must look to you alone for payment. Not one of them
would hear of letting you out ; and as for Mantalini, the scoundrel
was so insolent tliat I gave him a box on the ear, and would have
half-kille;l him, only poor Mary — Mrs. Titinarsh I mean— screamed
and fainted : and I brought her away, and here she is, as ill as
can be."
That night, tlie indefatigable Gus was obliged to run post-haste
for Doctor Salts, and next morning a little boy was born. I did
not know whether to be sad or happy, as they showed me the little
weakly thing : but 3Iary was the ha]ii>iest woman, she declared, in
the world, and forgot all her sorrows in nursing the poor baby ; she
went bravely through her time, and vowed that it was the loveliest
chilli in the world : and that though Lady Tijitoff, whose confinement
we read of as liaviiiir taken place tlie same day, might have a silk
bed and a fine house in Grosvenor Square, she never never could
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 103
have such a beautiful child as our dear little Gus : for after whom
should Ave have named the boy, if not after our good kind friend 1
We had a little party at the christening, and I assure yon were very
meny over our tea.
The mother, thank Heaven ! was very well, and it did one's
heart good to see her in that attitude in which I think every woman,
be she ever so jilain, looks beautiful — with her baby at her bosom.
The child was sickly, but she did not see it ; we were very poor,
but what cared she 1 She liad no leisure to be sorrowful as I was :
I liad my last guinea now in my pocket ; and when that was gone
— ah ! my heart sickened to think of what was to come, and I
prayed for strength and guidance, and in the midst of my perplexities
felt yet thankful that the danger of the confinement was over ; and
tliat for the worst fortune which was to befall us, my dear wife was
at least prepared, and strong in health.
I told Mrs. Stokes that she must let us have a cheaper room — -
a garret tluit should cost but a few shillings ; and though the good
woman bade me remain in the apartments we occupied, yet, now
that my wife was well, I felt it w^ould be a crime to deprive my kind
landlady of her chief means of liveliiiood ; and at length she promised
to get me a garret as I wanted, and to make it as comfortaWe as
might be ; and little Jemima declared that she would be glad beyond
measure to wait on the mother and the cliild.
The room, then, was made ready ; and though I took some pains
not to speak of tlie arrangement to(3 suddenly to Mary, yet there
was no need of disguise or hesitation ; for when at last I told her —
"Is that all?" said she, and took my hand with one of her blessed
smiles, and vowed that she and Jemima would keep the room as
pretty and neat as possible. " And I will cook your dinners," added
she ; " for you know you said I make the best roly-poly puddings in
the world." God bless her ! I do think some women almost love
poverty : but I did not tell Mary hoAV poor I was, nor had she any
idea how lawyers', and prison's, and doctors' fees had diminished the
sum of money which she brought me when we came to the Fleet.
It was not, however, destined that she and her child should in-
habit that little garret. We were to leave our lodgings on Monday
morning ; but on Saturday evening the child was seized with con-
vulsions, and all Sunday the mother watched and prayed for it :
but it pleased God to take the inniwent infant from ns, and on
Simday, at midnight, it lay a cori)se in its mother's bosom. Amen.
We have other children, happy and well, now round about us, and
from the fiither's heart the memory of this little thing has almost
faded ; but I do believe that every day of her life the mother thinks
of the firstborn that was with her for so short a while : many and
I04 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
mauy a time has she taken her daughters to the grave, m Samt
Bride's, "where he hes buried ; and she wears still at her neck a
httle little lock of gold hair, which she took from the head of the
intant as he lay smiling in his coffin. It has happened to me to
forget the child's birthday, but to her never; and often in the
midst of common talk comes something that shows she is thinlcing
of the child still, — some simple allusion that is to me inexpressibly
aftecting.
I shall not try to describe her grief, for such things are sacred
and secret ; and a man has no business to place them on paper for
all the world to read. Nor shoukl I have mentioned tlie child's
loss at all, but that even that loss was the means of a great
worldly blessing to us ; as my wife has often with tears and thanks
acknowledged.
While my wife was weeping over her child, I am ashamed to
say I was distracted with other feelings besides those of gi-ief for
its loss; and I have often since thought what a master — nay,
destroyer — of the attections Avant is, and have learned from expe-
rience to be thankful for daily bread. That acknowledgment of
weakness whi<'h we make in iniplnring to be relieved from humrer
and from temptation, is smxly wisely put in our daily prayer. Think
of it, y(ju wlio are rich, and take heed how you turn a beggar away.
The child lay there in its wicker cradle, with its sweet tixed
smile in its face (I think the angels in heaven must have been glad
to welcome that jiretty innocent smile) ; and it was only the next
day, after my wife had gone to lie downi, and I sat keeping watcii
liy it, that I remembered the cimdition of its i)arents, and thought,
I can't tell witli Avhat a pang, tiiat I had not money left to bury
the little thing, and wept l.ntter tears of despair. Now, at last,
I thought I must a])i)ly to my poor mother, for this was a sacred
necessity; and I took paper, and wrote her a letter at the baby's
side, and told her of our condition. But, thank Heaven ! I never
Bent the letter ; for as I went to the desk to get sealing-wax and
seal that dismal letter, my eyes fell upnn the diamond-pin that I had
quite forgotten, and that was lying in the drawer of the desk.
I looked into the betb'oom, — my poor wife was asleep ; she liad
been watching for three nights and days, and had fallen asleep from
sheer fatigue : and I ran out to a ])awid>rokcr's with tlie diamontl, and
received seven guineas for it, anil coming back, put tlie money into
the landlady's hand, and told her to get what was needful. My wife
was still asleep wlien I came back ; and when she woke, we per-
suaded her to go downstairs to the landlady's parlour; and mean-
while the necessary i)rei)aratious were made, and the poor child
consigned to its. coffin.
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 105
The next day, after all was over, Mrs. Stokes gave me l)ack three
out of the seven guineas ; and then I could not help sobbing out to
her my doubts and wretchedness, telling her that this was the last
money I had ; and when that was gone I knew not what was to
become of the best Avife that ever a man was blest witli.
My wife was downstairs -with, the woman. Poor Gus, who was
Vt'ith me, and quite as much affected as any of the party, took me by
the arm, and led me downstairs ; and we quite forgot all about the
prison and the rules, and walked a long long way across Blackfriars
Bridge, the kind fellow striving as mxich as possible to console me.
When we came back, it was in the evening. The first jierson
v>-ho met me in the house was my kind mother, who fell into my
arms with many tears, and who rebuked me tenderly for not having
told her of my necessities. She never should have known of them,
she said ; but she had not heard from me since I Avrote announcing
the birth of the child, and she felt uneasy about my silence ; and
meeting Mr. Smithers in the street, asked from him news concerning
me : whereupon that gentleman, with some little show of alarm, told
her that he thought her daughter-in-law was confined in an uncomfort-
able place ; that Mrs. Hoggarty had left us ; finally, that I was in
prison. This news at once despatched my poor mother on her travels,
and she had only just come from the prison, where she learned my
address.
I asked her whether she had seen my Avife, and how she found
her. Rather to my amaze she saiil that Mary was out with the
landlady when she arrived ; and eight — nine o'clock came, and she
was absent still.
At ten o'clock returned — not my wife, Imt ]\Irs. Stokes, and with
her a gentleman, who shook hands with me on coming into the room,
and said, " Mr. Titmrrsh, I don't know wliether you will remember
me : my name is Tiptofi". I liave In-ought you a note from Mrs.
Titmarsh, and a message from my wife, who sincerely commiserates
your loss, and begs you will not be uneasy at Mrs. Titniarsh's
absence. She has been good enough to promise to pass the night
with Lady Tiptoff; and I am sure you will not object to her being
away from you, while she is giving happiness to a sick mother and a
sick child." After a few more Avords, my Lord left us. My wife's
note only said that Mrs. Stokes Avould tell me all.
CHAPTER XIII
IN WHICH IT IS SHOiyyi THAT A GOOD WIFE IS THE BEST
DIAMOND A MAN CAN WEAR /.V HIS BOSOM
M
RS. TITMARSH, ma'am," says Mrs. Stokes, "before I
gratify your curiosity, ma'am, permit me to observe that
angels is scarce ; and it's rare to liavc one, much more two,
in a family. Both your sou and your daughter-in-law, ma'am, are
of that uncommon sort ; they are, now, rcely, ma'am."
My mother said she tlianked God for both of us ; and Mrs.
Stokes proceeded : —
" When the fu when the seminary, ma'am, was concluded
this morning, your poor daughter-in-law was glad to take snelter in
my humble parlour, ma'am; where she wept, and told a thousand
stories of the little cherub that's gone. Heaven bless us I it was
here but a month, and no one could have thought it cou/d have
done such a many things in that time. But a mother's eyes are
clear, mi'am ; and I had just such another angel, my dear little
Antony, that was born before Jemima, and would have been twenty-
three now were he in this wicked world, ma'am. However, I won't
speak of him, ma'am, but of what took place.
" You must know, ma'am, that Mrs. Titmai-sh remained down-
stairs while Mr. Samuel w'as talking with his friend Mr. Hoskins ;
and the poor thing would not touch a bit of dinner, tliough we had
it matle comfortable ; and after <linner, it was with difficulty I a)uld
get her to sup a little drop of wine-and-watcr, and dip a toast in it.
It was the first morsel that had passed her lips for many a long
hour, ma'am.
"' Well, she would not speak, and I thought it best not to inter-
rupt her ; Init she sat and looked at my two youngest that were
jilaying on the rug; and just as Mr. Titmarsh and his friend Gus went
out, the boy brought the newspaper, ma'am, — it always comes from
three to four, and I began a-reading of it. But I couldn't read nuicli,
for thinking of jioor Mr. Sam's sad face as he went out, and tlie
sad story he told me about his money being so low ; and every now
and then I stopped reading, and bade Mrs. T. not to take on so;
and told her some stories about my dear little Antony.
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 107
" ' All ! ' says she, sobbing, and looking at the young ones, ' yon
have otlier children, Mrs. Stokes ; but that — that was my only
one;' and she flung back in her chair, and cried fit to break her
heart : and I knew that the cry would do her good, and so went
back to my paper — the Morning Post, ma'am ; I always read it,
for I like to know what's a-going on in the West End.
" The very first thing that my eyes lighted upon was this : —
' Wanted, immediately, a respectable person as wet-nurse. Apply
at No. — Grosvenor Square.' ' Bless us and save us ! ' says I,
' here's poor Lady Tiptoff ill ; ' for I knew her Ladyship's address,
and how she was confined on the very same day with Mrs. T. :
and, for the matter of that, her Ladyship knows my address, havin;;
visited here,
"A sudden thought came over me. 'My dear Mrs. Titmarsh,'
said I, ' you know how poor and how good your husband is ? '
" ' Yes,' says she, rather surprised.
"'Well, my dear,' says I, looking her hard in the face. 'Lady
Tiptoff", who knows him, wants a nurse for her st)n, Lord Poynings.
Will you be a brave woman, and look f »r the place, and mayhap
replace the little one that God has taken from you ? '
" She began to tremble and blush ; and then I told her what
you, Mr. Sam, had told me the other day about your money
matters ; and no sooner did she hear it than she sprung to her
bonnet, and said, ' Come, come ; ' and in five minutes she had me
by the arm, and we walked together to Grosvenor Square. The
air did her no harm, Mr. Sam, and during the whole of the walk
she never cried but once, and then it was at seeing a nursery-maid
in the Square.
" A great fellow in livery ojiens the door, and says, ' YoTi're the
forty-fifth as come aljout this 'ere ])lace ; but, fust, let me ask you
a preliminary question . Are you a Hirishwuman ? '
" No, sir,' says Mrs. T.
" ' That suffisimt, mem,' says the gentleman in plusli ; ' I see
you're not by your axnt. Step this way, ladies, if you please.
You'll find some more candidix for the place upstairs ; but I sent
away forty-four happlicants, because they ivas Hirish.'
"We v,-ere taken upstairs over very soft carpets, and brought
into a room, and told by an old lady who was there to speak very
softly, for my Lady was only two rooms pft\ And when I asked
how the baby and her Ladyship were, the old lady told me both
were pretty well : only the doctor said Lady Tiptoff was too delicate
to nurse any longer : and so it was considered necessary to have a
wet-nurse.
"There was another young woman in the room — a tall fine
ro8 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
woman as ever you saw- — that looked very angry and conterapshious
at Mrs. T. and me, and said, * I've brought a letter from the duchess
Avhose daughter I nust ; and I think, Mrs, Blenkinsop, mem, my
Lady Tiptoff may look far before she finds such another nuss as me.
Five feet six higli, had t!ic smallpox, married to a corporal in the
Lifeguards, perfectly healthy, best of charactiers, only drink -water ;
and as for the child, ma'am, if her Ladyship had six, I've a plenty
for them all.'
" As the woman was making this speech, a little gentleman in
black came in from the next room, treading as if on velvet. The
■woman got up, and made him a low curtsey, and folding her arms
on her great broad chest, repeated the speech she had made before.
Mrs. T. did not get up from her chair, but only made a sort of a
bow ; wliich, to be sure, I thought was ill manners, as this gentle-
man wa3 evidently the apothecary. He looked hard at her and said,
* Well, my good woman, and are you come about the place too 1 '
" ' Yesj sir,' says she, blushing.
" ' You seem very delicate. How old is your child 1 Hov/
many have you had ? What character have you ?'
" Your wife didn't answer a word ;• so I stepped up, and said,
' Sir,' says I, * tliis lady has just lost her first child, and isn't used
to look for places, being the daughter of a captain in the navy ; so
you'll excuse her want of manners in not getting up when you
came in.'
" The doctor at this sat down and began talking very kindly to
her; he said he was afraid that her application would be unsuc-
cessful, as Mrs. Homer came very strongly recommended from the
Duchess of Doncastcr, whose relative Lady Tiptoff was; and pre-
sently my Lady appeared, looking very i)retty, ma'am, in an elegant
lace-cap and a sweet muslin robe-fle-sha m.
" A nui-se came out of her Ladyship's room with her; and while
my Lady was talking to us, walked r.p and down in the next room
with something in her arms.
" Fii-st, my Lady spoke to Mrs. Horner, and then to Mrs. T. ;
but all the while she was talking, Mrs. Titinarsh, rather rudely, as
I tliought, ma'am, was looking into tlie next room : looking — looking
at the baby tlicre with all her might. My Lady asked her her
name, and if she had any character ; and as she did not speak, I
spoke up for her, and said she wao the wife of one of the best
men in the world ; tliat her Ladyship knew the gentleman, too,
and had brought him a haunch of venison. Then Lady Tiptoff
looked ui) quite astonislied, and I told the whole story : how you
had been head clerk, and that rascal, Brough, had brought you to
ruin. 'Poor thing ! ' said my Lady : j\Ir3. Titmarsh did not' speak,
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 109
but still kept looking at the baby ; and the great big grenadier of a
Mrs. Horner looked angrily at her.
"'Poor thing!' says my Lady, taking Mrs. T.'s hand very
kind, ' she seems very young. How old are you, my dear 1 '
" * Five weeks and two days ! ' says your wife, sobbing.
" Mrs. Horner burst into a laugh ; 1 :)ut there was a tear in my
Lady's eyes, for she knew wliat the poor thing was a-thinkiug of.
" ' Silence, woman ! ' says she angrily to the great grenadier
woman ; and at this moment the child in the next room began
crying.
"As soon as your wife heard the noise, she sprung from her
chair and made a step forward, and put Iwth her hands to her
breast and said, ' The child — tlie child — give it me ! ' and tlien
began to cry again.
" My Lady looked at her for a moment, and then ran into the
next room and brought her the baby ; and the baby clung to her as
if he knew her : and a pretty sight it was to see that dear woman
with the child at her bosom.
" When my Lady saw it, what do you think she did 1 After
looking on it for a bit, she put her arms round your wife's neck and
kissed her.
"'My dear,' said she, 'I am sure you are as good as you are
pretty, and you shall keep the child : and I thank God for sending
you to me ! '
" These were her very words ; and Dr. Bland, who was standing
by, says, ' It's a second judgment of Solomon ! '
" ' I supi'.ose, my Lady, you don't want ?ne ? ' says the big
woman, with another curtsey.
" ' Not in the least ! ' answers my Lady haughtily, and the
grenadier left the room : and then I told all your story at full length,
and Mrs. Blenkinsop kept me to tea, and I saw the beautiful rouin
that Mrs. Titmarsh is to have next to Lady Tiptoff's ; and when
my Lord came home, what does he do but insist upon coming back
with me here in a hackney-coach, as he said he nuist apologise
to you for keeping your wife away."
I could not help, in my own mind, connecting this strange event
which, in the midst of our sorrow, came to console us, and in our
poverty to give us bread, — I could not help connecting it with the
diamond-jnn, and fancying that the disappearance of that ornament
had somehow brought a different and a better sort of luck into my
family. And though some gents who read this, may call me a poor-
spirited fellow for allowing my wife to go out to service, who was
bred a lady and ought to have servants herself: yet, for my part, I
confess I did not feel one minute's scruple or mortification on the
10
no THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
subject. If you love a person, is it not a pleasure to feel obliged to
him 1 Anil this, in consequence, I felt. I was proud and happy at
being able to think that my dear wife should be able to labour and
earn bread for me, now misfortune had put it out of my power to
support me and her. And now, instead of making any reflections
of my own upon prison discipline, I will recommend the reader to
consult that admirable chapter in the Life of Mr. Pickwick in which
the same theme is handled, and which shows how silly it is to
deprive honest men of the means of labour just at the moment when
they most want it. What coukl I do ] There were one or two
gents in the prison who could work (literary gents, — one wrote
his "Travels in Mesopotamia," and the other his "Sketches at
Almack's," in the ]ilace) ; but all the occupation I could find was
walking down Briilj;e Street, and then uj) Bridge Street, and staring
at Alderman Waithman's windows, and then at the black man who
swept the crossing. I never gave him anything ; but I envied him
his trade and his broom, and the money that contiiuially fell into
Ills old hat. But I was not allowed even to carry a broom.
Twice or thrice — for Lady Tiptoff did not wish her little boy
often to breathe the air of such a close place as Salisbury Square —
my dear Mary came in the thundering carriage to see me. They
were merry meetings; and — if the truth must be told — t%vice. when
nobody was by, I jumped into the carriage and had a drive with
her ; and when I had seen her home, jumj)ed into another hackney-
coach and drove back. But this Wius only twice ; for the system was
dangerous, and it might bring me into trouble, and it cost three
shillings from Grosvenor S pxare to Ludgate Hill.
Here moanwliile, my good mother kept me company ; and
what should we read of one day but the marriage of Mrs. Hoggarty
and the Rev. Grimes Wapsluit ! My mother, who never loved Mrs.
H., now said tliat she should repent all her life having allowed mc
to spend so much of my time with that odious ungniti'ful woman ;
and added that she and I too were justly punished for worshipping
the mammon of unrighteousness and forgetting our natural feelings
for the sake of my aunt's paltry lucre. " Well, Amen ! " said I.
" This is the end of all our fine schemes ! My aunt's money and
my aunt's diamond were the causes of my ruin, and now they are
clear gone, thank Heaven ! and I hope the old lady will be hai)py ;
xnd I must say I don't envy the Rev. Grimes y>'ai)shot." So we
put Mrs. Hoggarty out of our thoughts, and made ourselves as
comfortable a.s miglit be.
Rich and great people are slower in making Cliristians of their
rhildren than we ])Oor ones, and little Lord Pnynings was not
christened until the month of June. A duke was one godfathcn
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND iti
and My. Ednuiud Preston, tlie State Secretary, another ; and tliat
kind Lady Jane Preston, whom I have before sj^oken of, was the
godmotlier to her nephew. She had not long been made acquainted
witli my wife's liistory ; and both she and lier sister Lived her
heartily and were very kind to her. Indeed, there was not a
single soul in the house, high or low, but was fond of tliat good
sweet creature ; and the verj^ footmen were as ready to serve her
as they were their own mistress.
" I tell you what, sir," says one of them. " You see, Tit, my
boy, I'm a connyshure, and up to snough ; and if ever I see a
lady in my life, ]\Irs. Titmarsh is one. I can't be fimiliar with
her — I've tried "
"Have you, sir?" said I.
'' Don't look so indignant ! I can't, I say, lie fimiliar with
her as I am with you. There's a somethink in her, a jennysquaw,
that haws me, sir ! and even my Lord's own man, that 'as 'ad as
much success as any gentleman in Eiuope — he says that, cuss
him "
" Mr. Charles," says I, " tell my Lord's own man that, if he
wants to keep his place and his whole skin, he will never address
a single word to that lady but such as a servant should utter in
the presence of his mistress ; and take notice that I am a gentle-
man, though a poor one, and will murder the first man who does
her wrong ! "
Mr. Charles only said " Gammin ! " to this : but psha ! in
bragging about my own spirit, I forgot to say what great good-
fortune my dear wife's conduct procured for me.
On the christening-day, Mr. Preston offered her first a five,
ai'-l then a twenty-pound note ; liut she declined either ; but she
did not decline a present that the two ladies made her together,
and this was no other than iny release from the Fleet. Lord
Tiptoff's lavryer paid every one of the bills against me, and that
happy christening-day made me a free man. Ah ! who shall tell
the pleasure of that day, or the merry dinner we had in Mary's
room at Lord Tiptoff's house, when my Lord and my Lady came
upstairs to shake hands with me !
"I have been speaking to Mr. Prsston," says my Lord, "the
gentleman with whom you had the memorable quarrel, and he has
forgiven it, although he was in the wrong, and i)romises to do
something for you. We are going down, meanwliile, to his house
at Richmond ; and be sure, Mr. Titmarsh, I will not fail 1. 1 keep
you in his mind."
" .Urs. Titmarsh will do that," says my Lady ; " for Edmund
is woefully smitten with her ! " And Mary blushed, and I laughed,
112 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
and we were all very happy : and sure enough there came from
Richmond a letter to me, stating that I was appointed fourth clerk
in tlie Tape and Sealing-wax Office, with a salary of £80 per
annum.
Here perhaps my story ought to stop ; for I was happy at last,
and have never since, thank Heaven ! known want : but Gus
insists that I should add liow I gave up the place in the Tape and
Sealing-wax Office, and for what reason. That excellent Lady Jane
Preston is long gone, and so is ISh. P off in an apoplexy, and
there is no harm now in telling the story.
Tlie fact was, that I\Ir. Preston had follen in love with ^Mary
in a nuich more serious way than any of us imagined ; for I do
Ijclicve he invited his l)rot]ier-in-law to Richnmnd for no other
I)uri)ose than to jiay court to liis son's nurse. And one day, as I
wi\.s coming i)ost-liaste to thank him for the place he had jtrocured
for me, being directed by Mr. Charles to the "scrulibery," as he
called it, which led down to the river — there, sure enough, I found
Mr. Pn-ston, on his knees too, on the gravel-walk, and before him
Mary, holding the little lord.
"Dearest creature!"' says Mr. Preston, "do but listi'U to me,
and III make your husband consul at Timbuctoo ! He shall never
know of it, I tell you : he can never know of it. I pledge you
my word :us a Cabinet I\Iinister ! Oh, don't look at me in that arch
way : by heavens, your eyes kill me ! "
Mary, when she saw me, burst out laughing, and ran down
the lawn ; my Lord making a huge crowing, too, and holding out
liis little fat hands. Mr. Pre.ston, who was a heavy man, was
slowly getting uj), when, catching r. sight of me looking as fierce
as the crater of Mount Etna, — he gave a start back and lost his
footing, and rolled over and over, wallojiing inti» the water at the
garden's edge. It was not deep, and he came bubbling and snorting
out again in as nnich fright as fury.
" You d — d ungrateful villain ! " says he, " what do you stand
there laughing for [ "'
"I'm waiting your ordcr-^ for Timiiuctoo, sir," says I, and
humlied lit to die ; and so did my Lonl Tiptoff and his party, who
joined uv. on the lawn : and Jeamcs the footman came forward and
helped Mr. Preston out of tiie water.
'• Oil, you old sinner I " says my Lord, a.s his lirother-in-law came
up the slope. "Will that heart of yours be always so susceptible,
you romantic, apojdectic, immoral man I "
Mr. Preston went away, looking Itlue with rage, and ill-treated
his wife for a whole month afterwards.
" At any rate," says my Lonl, " Titmarsh here has got a place
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 113
through our friend's unhappy attachment ; and Mrs. Titniarsh has
only laughed at him, so there is no harm there. It's an ill wind
that blows nobody good, you know."
" Such a wind as that, my Lord, with due respect to you, shall
never do good to me. I have learned in the past few years what
it is to make fi-iends with the mammon of unrighteousness ; and
that out of such iricndshij) no good comes in the end to honest
men. It shall never be said that Sam Titmarsh got a place because
a gi'eat man was in love with his wife ; and were the situation ten
times as valuable, I should blush every day I entered the office-
doors in thinking of the base means by which my fortune was made.
You have made me free, my Lord ; and, thank God ! I am willing
to work. I can easily get a clerkshij) with the assistance of my
friends ; and with that and my wife's income, we can manage
honestly to face the world."
This rather long speecli I made with some animation ; for, look
you, I was not over well j)lcase(l that his Lordship should think me
capalile of speculating in any way on my wife's lieauty.
My Lord at first turned red, and looked rather angry ; but at
last he held out his hand and said, "You are right, Titmarsh, and
I am wrong ; and let me tell you in confidence, that I think yuu
are a very honest fellow. You shan't lose by your honesty, I
promise you."
Nor did I : for I am at this present moment Lord Tiptoff s
steward and right-hand man : and am I not a hajtpy father ? and
is not my wife loved and resjiected by all the country 1 and is not
Gus Hoskins my broth.er-in-law, partner with his excellent fother
in the leather way, and the delight of all his nephews and nieces
for his tricks and fun 1
As for Mr. Brough, that gentleman's history would fill a volume
of itself Since he vanished irom the London world, he has become
celebrated on the Continent, where he has acted a thousand parts,
and met all sorts of changes of high and low f )rtune. One thing
we may at least admire in the man, and that is, his undaunted
courage; and I can't help thinking, as I have said before, that
there must be some good in him, seeing the way in which his family
are faithful to him. With respect to Roundhand, I had best also
speak tenderly. The case of Roundhand v. Tidd is still in the
memory of the public ; nor can I ever understand how Bill Tidd, so
poetic as he was, could ever take on with such a fat, odious, vulgar
woman as ]\Irs. R., who was old enough to be his mother.
As soon as we were in prosperity, Mr. and Mrs. Grimes Wapshot
made overtures to be reconciled to us ; and Mr. Wapsiiot lakl bare
to me all the baseness of Mr. Sir.ithers's conduct in the Brough
1T4 THE HISTORY OF SAMUEL TITMARSH
transaction. Smitliers had also endeavoured to pay his court to
me, once when I went down to Somersetshire ; but I cut liis i)re-
tensions short, as I have shown. " He it was," said Mr. Wapsliot,
" who induced Mrs. Grimes (j\Irs. Hoggarty she was then) to pur-
chase the "West Dichllesex shares : receiving, of course, a large boiuis
for himself. But directly he found that ]\Irs. Hoggarty had fallen
into the hands of Mr. Brough, and that he should lose the income
he made from the lawsuits with her tenants and from the manage-
ment of her landed ])roperty, he deteruiined to rescue her fmm that
villain BroUL^h, and came to town fur the purpose. He also,"
added Mr. Wapsliot, "vented his malignant slander against me;
but Heaven was pleased to fmstrate his base schemes. In the ])ro-
ceedings consequent on Brough's bankruptcy, Mr. Smitliers coidd
not appear ; for liis own share in the transactions of the ComiKiny
would- have been most certainly shown up. During his absence
from London, I became the husband— the happy husband— of your
aunt. But though, my dear sir, I have l)een the means of bringing
her to grace, I cannot disguise from you that Mrs. "W. has fixidts
which all my i)a.storal care has not enabled me to eradicate. She
is close of her money, sir — very dose; nor can I make that charitable
use of her i)roperty which, as a clergyman, I ought to do ; for she
has tied up every shilling of it, and only allows me half-a-crown a
week for pocket-money. In temjier, too, she is ver>- violent. During
the first years of our union, I strove with her ; yea, I chastised her ;
but her persfverance, I must confess, got the Iwtt^^r of me. I make
no more remonstrances, but am as a lamb in her hands, and she
leads me whithci-soever she ]>lea.>*es."
i\Ir. Wapshot concluded his tale by l)orrowing lialf-a-crown from
me (it was at the Somerset Coffee-house in the Strand, where he
came, in the year 1832, to wait upon me), and I kiw him go from
thence into tlie gin-shop oi)posite, and come out of the gin-shop
half-an-hour ;irt.r\v.ir(ls, rrolinL' acrops the streets, ami ].erfectly
intoxicated.
He died ne.\t year : when his widow, who called herself Mrs.
Hoggarty-(}rimes-Wai)shot, of Castle Hoggarty, said that over the
giiive t>f her .s;unt all earthly resentments were forgotten, and jiro-
posed to come and live with us ; paying us, of course, a handsome
remuneration. But this offer my wife and I respectfully declined ;
and once more she altered her will, which once more she had made
in our favour ; called us ungrateful wretches and i)ani^ered menials,
an<l left all her pn^perty to the Irish Hoggarties. But seeing my
wife one day in a earriaLre with Lady Tiptoff, and hearing that we
had been at the gieat ball at Tiptotf Castle, and that I had grown
to be ti rich man, she changed her mind again, sent for me on ner
AND THE GREAT HOGGARTY DIAMOND 115
dcath-bed, and left me the farms of Sloppertou and Squaslitail, ^\ ith
all her savings for fifteen years. Peace be to her soul ! for certainly
she left me a very pretty property.
Though I am no literary man myself, my cousin Michael (w!io
generally, when he is short of coin, comes down and passes a few
months with us) says that my Memoirs may be of some use to the
l)ublic (meaning, I suspect, to himself) ; and if so, I am glad to
serve him and them, and hereby take farewell : bidding all gents
who peruse this, to l)e cautious of their money, if tlicy liave it ; to
be still more cautious of their friends' money ; to remember that
great profits imply great risks ; and that the great shrewd capitalists
of this country would not be content with four per cent, for their
money, if they could securely get more : above all, I entreat them
never to embark in any speculation, of which the conduct is not
perfectly clear to them, and of which tlie agents are n(jt jx'rfectly
oj)en and loyal
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES
OF
MAJOR GAHAGAN
THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES
OF
MAJOR GAHAGAN
CHAPTER I
"TRUTH IS STRANGE, STRANGER THAN FICTION"
1 THINK it but right that in making my appearance before the
public I should at once acquaint them with my titles and name.
My card, as I leave it at the houses of the nol>ility, my friends,
is as follows : —
MAJOR GOLIAH O'GEADY GAHAGAN, H.E.I.O.S.,
Commanding Battalion of
Irrerjular Horse,
AHMEDNUGGAR.
Seeing, I say, this simple visiting ticket, the world will avoid any
of those awkward mistakes as to my person, which have been so
frequent of late. There has been no end to the blunders regarding
this humble title of mine, and the confusion thereby created. When
I published my volume of poems, for instance, the Morning Fast
newspaper reniarked "that the Lyrics of the Heart, by Miss
Gahagau, may be ranked among the sweetest flowrets of the present
spring season." The Quarterly Revieio, commenting ujion my
"Observations on the Pons Asinorum " (-ito, London, 1836), called
me " Doctor Gahagan," and so on. It was time to put an end to
these mistakes, and I have taken the above simple remedy.
I20 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
I was urged to it V)y a very exalted personage. Dining in
August last at the palace of the T — 1-r-es at Paris, the lovely
young Duch-ss of Orl — ns (who, though she does not speak
English, understands it as M-ell as I do), said to me in the softest
Teutonic. " Lieber Herr Major, haben sie den Ahmednuggarischen-
jager-battalion gelassen?" "Warum denn?" said I, quite aston-
ished at her R — 1 H ss's question. The P — cess then spoke
of some trifle from my pen, which was simply signed Golii.a
Gahagan.
There was, unluckily, a dead silence as TT.IMT. ]iiit this
question.
" Comment dond" said H.M. Lo-is Ph-l-ppe, looking gravely
at Count Mol^ ; " le cher Major a quitt^ I'armde ! Nicolas done
sera maitre de I'lnde !" H. M and the Pr. M-n-ster pursued
tlieir conversation in a low tone, and left me, as may be imagined,
in a dreadful state of confusion. I blushed arid stuttered, and
murmured out a fevv' incoherent words to explain — but it would not
do — I could not recover my equanimity during the course of the
dinner ; and while endeavouring to help an English Duke, my
neighbour, to poulet a V Ansterlitz, foirly sent seven nuislirooms
and three large greasy croiites over his whiskers and shirt-frill.
Another laugh at my expense. " Ah ! M. Ic Major," said the
Q of the B-lg — ns archly, " vous n'aurez jamais votre brevet
de Colonel." Her M y's joke will be better understood when
I state that his Grace is the brother of a Minister.
I am not at literty to violate the sanctity of private life, by
mentioning the names of the parties concerned in this little anecdote.
I only wish to have it understood that I am a gentleman, and live
at least in decent society. Verhum sat.^
But to be serious. I am obliged always to write the name of
Goliah in full, to distmguish me from my brother, Gregory Gahagan,
who Wcis also a Major (in the King's service), and whom I killed
in a duel, as the public most likely knows. Poor Greg ! a. very
trivial dispute was the cause of our quarrel, which never would
have originated but for the similarity of our names. Tlie circum-
stance was tliis : I had been lucky enough to render the Nawaub of
Lucknow some trifling sei-vice (in the notorious aflair of Choprasjee
Muckjee), and his Highness sent down a gold toothpick-case directed
to Captain G, Gahagan, which I of course thought was for me : my
brother madly claimed it ; we fought, and the conseijuence was, that
in about three minutes he received a slash in the right side (cut 6),
which eff'ectually did his business :— he was a good swordsman
enough — I was the best in the universe. The most ridiculous
part of the affair is, that the toothpick-case was his. after all — he
MAJOR GAHAGAN
121
had left it on the Nawaub's table at tiiliu. I can't conceive what
madness prompted him to fight ahout such a paltry l)anhle; he had
much better have yielded it at once, wlien he saw I was dctennined
to have it. From tliis sliglit specimen of my adventures, tlie reader
will perceive that my life has been one of no ordinary interest; and, in
fact, I may say that I have led a more rem;irkable life than any man
in the service — I have been at more i)itche(l battles, led more forloni
hopes, had more success among the fair sex, drunk harder, read more,
been a handsomer man than any officer now serving Her Majesty.
When I first went to India in 1802, I was a raw cornet of
seventeen, with blazing red hair, six feet four in heiglit, athletic at
all kinds of exercises, owing money to my tailor and everybody else
who would trust me, possessing an Irish brogue, and my full pay
of £120 a year. I need not say that Avith all these advantages I
did that which a number of clever fellows have done before me — I
fell in love, and proposed to marry immediately.
But how to overcome the difficulty 1 — It is true tliat I luved
Julia Jowler — loved her to madness ; but lier father intended lier
for a Member of Council at least, and not for a beggarly Irisli
ensign. It was, however, my fate to make the passage to India
(on board of the Samuel Snob East Indiaman, Captain Dut^'y) with
this lovely creature, and my misfortune instantaneously to I'all in
love with her. We were not out of the Channel before I adored
her, wors]iii)ped the deck which slie tn^d upi:)n, kiss(>d a thousand
times the cuddy-chair on which she used to sit. Tlie same madness
fell on every man in the ship. The two mates fought a])out her at
the Cape ; the surgeon, a sober pious Scotchman, from (lisaj)pointed
aft'ection, took so dreadfully to drinking as to threaten s})ontaneous
combustion ; and old Colonel Lilywliite, carrying his wife and seven
daugliters to Bengal, swore that he would have a divorce from Mrs.
L., and made an attempt at suicide ; the captain himself told me,
with tears in his eyes, that he hated his hitherto adored Mrs. Duti'y,
altliough he had had nineteen children by her.
We used to call her the witch — there was magic in her beauty
and in her voice. I was spell-bound when I looked at her, and
stark staring mad when she looked at me ! lustrous black eyes !
— O glossy night-black ringlets ! — lips ! — dainty frocks of Avliite
muslin ! — tiny kid shippers ! — though old and gouty, Gahagan sees
you still ! I recollect, off Ascension, she looked at me in her i)arti-
cular way one day at dinner, just as i happened to be blowing on
a piece of scalding hot green fat. I Avas stuiieficd at once — I thrust
the entire morsel (about half a pound) into my mouth. I made no
attempt to sAvallow, or to jiiasticate it, but left it there for many
minutes, burning, burning ! I had no skin to my italate for sever
L
122 THE TRE:\rENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
weeks after, and lived on rice water during the rest of the voyage.
The anecdote is trivial, but it shows the power of Julia Jowler
over me.
The writers of marine novels have so exhausted the subject of
storms, shipwrecks, mutinies, engagements, sea-sickness, and so
forth, that (although I have experienced each of these in many
varieties) I think it quite unnecessary to recount such tritiing
adventures; suffice it to say, that during our five montlis' trajet,
my mad passion for Julia daily increased ; so did the captain's and
the surgeon's ; so did Colonel Lilywhite's ; so did the doctor's, tlie
mate's — that of most jiart of the ]ia.sscngers, and a consideralile
number of the crew. For myself, I swore — ensign as I was — I
would win her for niy wife ; I vowed that I would make her
glorious with my sword — that as soon as I had made a favourable
impression on my commanding officer (wliich I did not doubt to
create), I would lay open to him the state of my affections, and
demand his daughter's hand. With such sentimental outpourings
did our voyage continue and conclude.
We landed at the Sunderbunds on a grilling hot day in December
1802, and then for the moment Julia and I separated. Slie was
carried off to her pai>a's arms in a jjalankeen, siu-roundod liy at
least forty hookahbadars ; whilst tlio p(>i.>r cornet, attendctl but by
two dandies and a solitary beasty (by which unnatural name these
blackamoors are called), made his way humbly to join the regiment
at headquarters.
The — th Regiment of Bengal Cavalry, then under the command
of Lieut.-Colonel Julius Jowler, C.B., wius known throughout Asia
and Europe by the jiroud title of the Bundelcund Invincibles — so
groat w;us its character for bravery, so remarkalile were its services
in that delightful district of India. Major Sir George Gutch was
next in command, and Tom Thrupj), as kind a fellow as ever ran a
Mahratta througli tiie body, was second Major. We were on the
eve of that remarkable war which was si)eedily to spread throughout
the whole of India, to call forth the valour of a Wellesley, and the
indomitable gallantry of a Gahagan ; which was illustratod by our
victories at Ahmcdnuggar (where I was the first over the barricade
at the storming of the Pettah) ; at Argaum, where I slew with my
own sword twenty-tlu-ee matcldock-men, and cut a dromedary in
two ; and by tliat terrible day of Assaye, where Wellesley would
have been beaten l)ut for me-»-me alone : I headed nineteen charges
of cavalry, took (aided by only four men of my own troop) seventeen
field-pieces, killing the scoiuidrelly French artilleiymen ; on that
day I had eleven elephants shot under me, and carried away Scindiah's
nose-ring vnth a pistol-ball. Wellesley is a Duke and a ^larshal,
MAJOR GAHAGAN 123
I but a simple Major of Irregulars. Such is fortune and war ! But
my feelings carry me away from my narrative, which h^d better
proceed with more order.
On arriving, I say, at our barracks at Dum Dum, I fur the first
time put on the beautiful uniform of the Invincibles : a liglit blue
swallow-tailed jacket with silver lace and wings, ornamented with
about 3000 sugar-loaf buttons, rhubarb-coloured leather inexpressibles
(tights), and red morocco boots with silver spurs and tassels, set off
to admiration the handsome persons of the officers of our corps.
We wore powder in those days ; and a regulation pigtail of seventeen
inclies, a Ijrass helmet surrounded by leopard skin, with a bearskin
top and a horsetail feather, gave the head a fierce and chivalrous
appearance, which is far more easily imagined than described.
Attired in this magnificent costume, I first presented myself
before C<:ilonel Jowler. He was haltitcd in a manner precisely
similar, but not being more than five feet in height, and weighing
at least fifteen stone, the dress he wore did not become him quite
so much as slimmer and taller men. Flanked by his tall Majors,
Thrupp and Gutch, he looked like a stumpy skittle-ball between
two attenuated skittles. The ])]ump little Colonel received me
with vast cordiality, and I speedily became a prime favourite with
himself and the other ofiicers of the corps. Jowler was tlie most
hospitable of men ; and gratifying my appetite and my love together,
I continually jx'^rtook of his dinners, and feasted on the sweet
presence of Julia.
I can see now, what I would not and could not jierceive in
those early days, tliat tliis Miss Jowler — on whom I had lavished
my first and warmest love, whoni I had endowed with all perfection
and purity — was no better than a little impudent flirt, Avho played
witli my feelings, because during tlie monotony of a sea voyage she
had no otlier toy to play with; and who deserted others for me,
and me for others, just as her wliim or her interest might guide
her. She had not been three weeks at headquarters when half the
regiment was in love "with her. Each and all of the candidates had
some favour to boast of, or some encouraging hopes on whicli to
build. It was tlie scene of the Samuel Snob over again, only
heightened in interest by a number of duels. The following list
will give the reader a notion of some of them : —
o'
1. Cornet Gahagan . . Ensign Hicks, of the Sappers and
Miners. Hicks received a ball in
his jaw, and was half choked by a
quantity of carroty whisker forced
down his throat with the ball.
124 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
2. Captain Macgillicuddy, Cornet Gahagan. I was run
. B.N.I. through the body, but the sword
passed between the ribs, and in-
jured me very slightly.
3. Captain Macgillicuddy, Mr. Mulligatawny, B.C.S., Deputy-
B.N.I. Assistant Vice Sub-Controller of
the Boggley wollah Indigo grounds,
Ramgolly branch.
Macgillicuddy should have stuck to sword's play, and he might
have come off in his second duel as well as in his first ; as it was,
the civilian placed a ball and a part of Mac's gold repeater in his
stomach. A remarkable circumstance attended this shot, an account
of which I sent home to the " Philosophical Transactions " : the
surgeon had extracted the ball, and was going otf, thinking that all
was Avell, when the gold repeater struck thirteen in poor Macgilli-
cuddy's abdomen. I suppose that the works must have been
disarranged in some Avay by the bidlct, for the repeater was one
of Barraud's, never known to fail before, and the circumstance
occurred at seven o'clock.*
I could continue, almost ad injinitum, an account of the wars
which this Helen occasioned, but the above three specimens will, I
should think, satisfy the peaceful reader. I delight not in scenes
of blood. Heaven knows, but I was compelled in the course of a
few weeks, and for the sake of this one woman, to fight nine duels
myself, and I know that four times as many more took place
concerning her.
I forgot to say that Jowler's wife was a half-caste woman, who
had been born and bred entirely in India, and whom the Colonel
had married from the house of her mother, a native. There were
some singular rumours abroad regarding this latter lady's history :
it was reported that she was the daughter of a native Rajah, and
had been carried off" by a poor English subaltern in Lord Clive's
time. The young man was killed very soon after, and left his
child with its mother. The black Prince forgave his daughter and
bequeathed to her a handsome sum of money. I sup])ose that it
was on this account that Jowler married Mrs. J., a creature who
' So admirable are the performances of these watches, which will stand in
any climate, that I repeatedly heard poor ilacgillicuddy relate the following
fact. The hours, as it is known, count in Italy from one to twenty-four : the
day Mac landed at Naples his repeater run'/ the Italian hours, from one to
ticentv-fonr ; as soon as he crossed the Alps it only sounded as usuaL— '
G. O'G. G.
MAJOR GAHAGAN 125
had nut, I do believe, a Christian name, or a single Christian quality :
she was a hideous, bloated, yellow creature, with a beard, black
teeth, and red eyes : she Avas fat, lying, ngly, and stingy — she
hated and was hated by all the world, and by her jolly husband
as devoutly as by any other. She did not ])ass a month in the
year with him, but spent most of her time with her native friends.
I wonder how she could have given birth to so lovely a creature
as her daughter. This Avoman was of course with the Colonel
when Julia arrived, and the spice of the devil in her daughter's
composition was most carefully nourished and fed by her. If Julia
had been a flirt before, she was a downright jilt now ; she set the
whole cantonment by the cars ; she made wives jealous and husbands
miserable ; she caused all those duels of which I have discoursed
already, and yet such was the fliscination of the wt:tcii that I still
thought her an angel. I made court to the nasty mother in order
to be near the daughter; and I listened untiringly to Jowler's
interminable dull stories, because I was occupied all the time in
watching the graceful movements of Miss Julia,
But the trumiiet of war was soon ringing in our cars ; and on
the battle-field Gahagan is a man ! The Bundelcund Invincibles
received orders to march, and Jowler, Hector-like, donned his helmet
and i^repared to part from his Andromache. And now arose his
perplexity : what must be done with his daughter, his Julia ? He
knew his wife's peculiarities of living, and did not much care to
trust his daughter to her keeping ; but in vain he tried to find her
an asylum among the respectable ladies of his regiment. Lady
Guteh offered to receive her, but would have nothing to do with
Mrs. Jowler ; the surgeon's wife, Mrs. Sawbone, would have neither
mother nor daughter : there was no help for it, Julia and her
mother must have a house together, and Jowler knew that his wife
would fill it with her odious blackamoor friends.
I cindd not, however, go forth satisfied to the campaign until
I learned from Julia my fate. I watched twenty opjjortunities to
see her alone, and wandered about the Colonel's bungalow as an
inr>rmcr does about a public-house, marking the incomings and the
outgoings of the family, and longing to seize the moment when Miss
Jowler, unbiassed by her mother or her papa, might listen, perhaps,
to ray eloquence, and melt at the tale of my love.
But it would not do — old Jowler seemed to have taken ail of
a sudden to such a fit of domesticity, that there was no finding h'm
out of doors, and his rhubarb-coloured wife (I believe that lier skin
gave the first idea of our regimental, breeches), who before had been
gadding ceaselessly abroad, and poking her broad nose into every
menage in the cantonment, stopped faithfully at home with her
11
126 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
spouse. My only chance was to beard the old couple in their den.
and ask them at once for thcu* cuh.
So I called one day at tiffin : — old Jowler was always happy
to have my company at this meal ; it amused him, he said, to see
me drink Hodgson's pale ale (I drank two hundred and thii-ty-four
dozen the first year I was in Bengal)— and it was no small piece of
fun, certainly, to sec old Mrs. Jowler attack the currie-Uiaut ;— she
was exactly the colour of it, as I have had already the honour to
remark, and she swallowed the mixture witli a gusto which was
never equalled, except by my poor friend D;mdo a propos d'huUrcs.
She consumed the first three platefuLs with a fork and sjioon, like
a Christian ; but as she warmed to her work, the old hag wouhl
throw away her silver implements, and dragging the dishes towanls
her, go to work witli her hands. Hip the rice into her mouth with
her fingers, and stow away a quantity of eatiildes sufiicient for a
sepoy company. But why do I di\Trge from the main point of
my story ?
Julia, tlicn, Jowler, and Mi's. J., were at hmclu'on ; the dear
girl was in tlie act to sailer a ghiss of Hodgson as I entered. " How
do you do, Mr. Ga.gin?" said the old hag leeringly. "Eat a bit
o' currie-bhaut," — and she thrust tlie dish towards me, securing a
heap as it passed. " What I Gag>' my boy, how do, how do ] "
said the fat Colonel. " Wliat ! run tlirough the bo<ly ? — got well
again — have some Hodgson — run through yt)ur body too ! " — and at
this, I may say, coarse joke (alluding to the fact that in these hot
climates tlie ale oozes out as it were from the pores of the skin)
old Jowler laughed : a lio^it of swarthy chobdars, kitmatgars, sices,
consoniahs, and Ixibbychies laughed too, as they provided nie, un-
asked, with the grateful fluid. Swallowing six tumblers of it, I
paused nervously for a moment, and then said —
" Bolibachy, coiisomah, ballybaloo hoga."
The black ruffians took tlie hint, and retired.
"Colonel and i\Irs. Jowler," said I solemnly, "we arc alone;
and you. Miss Jowler, you are alone too; that is — I mean — I .take
this opportunity to — (another glass of ale, if you please) — to ex-
jiress, once for all, before departing on a dangerous campaign '"' —
(Julia tiuned pale) — "before entering, I say, upon a war which may
stretch in the dust ray high-raised hopes and me, to express my
hopes while life still remains to me, and to declare in the face of
heaven, earth, and Colonel Jowler, that I love you, Julia ! " The
Colonel, astonished, let fall a steel fork, which stuck quivering for
some minutes in the calf of my leg ; but I heeded not the ]ialtry
interru]ition. " Yes, by yon liright heaven," continued I, " I love
you, Julia ! I respect my commander, I esteem your excellent and
MAJOR GAHAGAN
127
beauteous mother : tell me, before I leave you, if I may hope for a
return of my afteetion. Say that you love me, and I will do such
deeds in this coming war, as sliall make you jjroud of the name of
your Gahagan."
The old woman, ;;s I delivered these touching words, stared,
snapped, and ground her teeth, like an enraged monkey. Julia was
now red, now white ; the Colonel stretched forward, took the fork
out of the calf of my leg, wiped it, and tlien seized a bundle of letters
which I had remarked by his side.
"A cornet!" said he, in a voice choking with emotion; "a
pitiful beggarly Irish comet aspire to the hand of Julia Jowler !
Gag — Gahagan, are you mad, or laughing at US'? Look at these
letter;-^, young man — at tliese letters, I say — one hundred and
twenty-four epistles from every part of India (not including one from
the Governor-General, and six from his brother. Colonel Wellesley)
— one hundred and twenty-four proposals for the hand of Miss
Jowler ! Cornet Gahagan," he continued, " I Avish to think well of
you : you are the bravest, tlie most modest, and, perhaps, the
handsomest man in our corps ; but you have not got a single rupee.
You ask mc for Julia, and you do not possess even an anna ! "—
(Here the old rogue gi-inned, a,s if he had made a capital pun.) —
"No, no," said he, waxing good-natured; " Gagy my boy, it is
nonsense ! Julia love, retire with your mamma ; this silly young
gentleman will remain and smoke a pipe with me."
I took one : it was the bitterest chillum I ever smoked in my
life.
I am not going to give here an account of my military services ;
they will appear in my great national autobiography, in forty
volumes, which I am now preparing for the press. I was with my
regiment in all Wehcsley's brilliant campaigns ; then taking dawk,
I travelled across the country north-eastward, and had the honour
of fighting by the side of Lord Lake at Laswaree, Degg, Furrucka-
badj'^Futtyghur, and Bhurtpore : l)ut I will not boast of my actions
— the military man knows them, my sovereign apprecintes them.
If asked who was the bravest man of the Indian army, there is not
an officer belonging to it who would not cry at once, Gahagan.
The fiict is, I was desperate : I cared not for life, deprived of Julia
Jowler.
With Julia's stony looks ever before my eyes, her father's stern
refusal in my ears, 1 did not care, at the close of the campaign,
again to seek her company or to press my suit. We were eighteen
months on service, marching and counter-marching, and fightuig
almost every other day : to the world I did not seem altered : but
128 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
the TTorkl only saw the face, and not the seared and blighted heart
within me. My valour, always desperate, now reached to a pitch
of cruelty ; I tortured my grooms and grass-cutters for the most
trifling oftence or error, — I never in action spared a man, — I
sheared off three hundred and nine heads in the course of that
single campaign.
Some influence, equally melanclioly, seemed to have fallen upon
poor old Jowler. About six months after we had left Dum Dum,
he received a parcel of letters from Benares (whither his wife had
retired with lier daughter), and so deeply did they seem to weigh
upon his spirits, that he ordered eleven men of his regiment to be
flogged within two days j but it was against the blacks that he
chiefly tmiied his WTath, Oiu- fellows, in the heat and hurry of
the campaign, were in the habit of dealing ratlier roughly with their
prisoners, to extract treasure from them : they used to pull their
nails out by the root, to boil them in kedgeree pots, to flog them
and dress their wounds with cayenne pepper, and so on. Jowler,
when he heard of tliese proceedings, wliich before had always justly
exasperated him (he was a humane and kind little man), used now
to smile fiercely and say, " D • the black scoundrels ! Serve
them right, serve them right ! "
One day, about a couple of miles in advance of the column, I had
been on a foraging-party with a few dragoons, and was returning
peaceably to camp, when of a sudden a troop of Mahrattas burst on
us from a neighbouring mango-tope, in which they had been hidden :
in an instant three of my men's saddles were empty, and I was left
vrith but seven more to make head against at least thirty of these
vagabond black horsemen. I never saw in my life a nobler figure
than the leader of the troop — mounted on a splendid black Arab ;
he was as tall, very nearly, as myself; he wore a steel cap and a
shirt of mail, and carried a beautiful French carbine, which had
already done execution upon two of my men. I saw tliat our only
chance of safety lay in the destruction of this man. I shouted to
him in a voice of thunder (in the Hindustanee tongue of course),
" Stoii, dog, if you dare, and encounter a man ! "
In reply his lance came whirling in the air over my head, and
mortally trausfijxed poor Foggarty of ours, who was behind me.
Grinding my teeth and swearing liorribly, I drew that scimitar which
never yet failed its blow,* and rushed at the Indian. He came
down at full gallop, his own sword making ten thousand gleaming
circles in the air, shrieking his cry of battle.
The contest did not last an instant. With my first blow I cut
* In my affair with Macgillicuddy, I was fool enough to go out with small
swords : — miserable weapons, onl}- fit for tailors. — G. 0"G. G.
MAJOR GAHAGAN 129
off his sword-arm at the wrist ; my .second I levelled at his head. I
said that he wore a steel cap, with a gilt iron spike of six inches, and
a hood of chain mail. I rose in my stirnijjs and delivered " St.
George ; " my sword caught the sjiike exactly on the jiuint, split it
sheer in two, cut crashing through the steel cap and hood, and was
only stopped by a ruby which he wore in his l)ack-])late. His head,
cut clean in two between the eyebrows and nostrils, even between
the two front teeth, fell one side on each shoulder, and he galloped on
till his horse was stopped by my men, who were nut a little amused
at the feat.
As I had expected, the remaining ruffians fled on seeing their
leader's fate. I took home liis helmet by Avay of curiosity, and we
made a single prisoner, who was instantly carried bef<jre old Jowler.
We asked the prisoner tlie name of the leader of the troop : he
said it was Chowder Loll.
" Chowder Loll ! " shiieked Colonel Jowler. " Fate ! thy hand
is here ! " He rushed wildly into his tent — the next day apjjlied
for leave of absence. Gutcli took the command of the regiment, and
I saw him no more for some time.
As I had distinguished myself not a little during tlie war, General
Lake sent me up Avith desiKitches to Calcutta, where Lord Wellesley
received me with the greatest distinction. Fancy my surprise, on
going to a ball at Government House, to meet my old friend Jowler;
my trembling, blushing, thrilling delight, wlien I sav/ Julia by liis side !
Jowler seemed to l)lush too when he beheld me. I thought of
my former passages with his daugliter. " Gagy, my boy,'' says he,
siiaking liands, "glad to see you. Old friend, Jidia — come to tiffin
— Hodgson's pale — brave fellow, Gagy." Julia did not speak, but
she turned ashy pale, and fixed ujjou me her awful eyes ! I fainted
almost, and uttered some incoherent words. Julia took my Iiand,
gazed at me still, and said, " Come ! " Keetl I say I went ?
I will not go over the i)ale ale and currie-bhaut again ! but this
I know, that in half-an-hour I was as much in love as I ever liad
been ; and that in three weeks I — yes, I — was the accepted lover of
Julia ! I did not pause to ask where were the one hundred and
twenty-four offers? why I, refused before, should be acceijfed now?
I only felt that I loved her, and was happy !
One night, one memorable night, I could not sleei), and, with a
lover's pardonable passion, wandered solitary tlirough the City of
Palaces until I came to the house whicli contained my Julia. I
peeped into the compound— all was still ; I looked into th(> verandah
130 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
— all was dark, except a light — yes, one light — and it was in Julia's
chamber ! My heart throbbed almost to stifling. I would — I would
advance, if but to gaze upon her for a moment, and to bless her as
she slept. I did look, I did advance ; and, Heaven ! I saw a
lamp burning, Mrs. Jow, in a nightdress, with a very dark baby in
her arms, and Julia looking tenderly at an ayah, who was niu-sing
another.
"Oh, mamma," said Julia, "what would that fool Gahagan say
if he knew all 1 "
" He does know all I " slioutcd I, springing forward, and tearing
down the tatties from the window. Mrs. Jow. ran shrieking out
of the room, Julia fainted, the cursed black children squalled, and
their d — d nurse fell on her knees, gabbling some infernal jargon
of Hindustanee. Old Jowler at this juncture entered with a candle
and a drawn sword.
" Liar ! scoundrel ! deceiver ! " shouted I. " Turn, ruftian, and
defend yourself I " But old Jowler, when he saw me, only whistled,
looked at his lifeless daughter, and slowly left the room.
Why continue the tale? I need not now account for Jowler's
gloom on receiving his letters from Benares — for his exclamation
upon the death of the Indian chief — for his desire to marry his
daughter : the woman I was wooing was no longer Miss Julia
J( 'wler ; she was i\Irs. Chowder Loll !
CHAPTER II
ALLYGHUR JND LASIVAREE
I SAT down to write gravely and sadly, for (since the appearance
of some of my adventures in a monthly magazine) unprincipled
men have endeavoured to rob me of the only good I jiosses^.s, to
question the statements that I make, and, themselves without a
spark of honour or good feeling, to steal from me that which is my
sole wealth — my character as a teller of the truth.
The reader will understand that it is to the illiberal strictures
of a profligate press I now allude ; among tlie London journalists,
none (luckily for themselves) have dared to question the veracity of
my statements : they know me, and they know that I am in London.
If I can use the pen, I can also wield a more manly and terrible
weapon, and would answer their contradictions with my sword !
No gold or gems adorn the hilt of that war-woni scimitar; ])ut
there is blood upon the blade — the blood of the enemies of my
country, and the maligners of my honest fame. There are others,
however; — the disgrace of a disgraceful trade — who, borrowing from
distance a despicable courage, have ventured to assail me. The
infamous editors of the Kelso Champion, the Bungay Beacon, the
Tipperary Argus, and the Stoke Fofjis Sentinel, and other dastardly
organs of the provincial press, have, although differing in politics,
agreed upon this one point, and, with a scoundrelly uiianimity,
vented a flood of abuse iqion the revelations made by me.
They say that I have assailed private characters, and wilfully
perverted history to blacken the reputation of public men. I ask.
Was any one of these men in Bengal in the year 1803 ? Was any
single conductor of any one of these paltry prints ever in Bundelcund
or the Eohilla country ? Does this exquisite Tipperary scril^c knoAv
the difference between Hurrygurrybang and Burrumtollah 1 Not
he ! and because, forsooth, in those strange and distant lands strange
circumstances have taken place, it is insinuated that the relater is a
liar : nay, that the very places themselves have no existence but in
my imagination. Fools ! — but I will not waste my anger upon
them, and proceed to recount some other portions of my persona)
history.
132 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
It is, I presume, a fact wliicli even these scrilibling- assassins
will not venture to deny, that before the commencement of the
campai.gn against Scindiah, the English General formed a camp at
Kanouge on the Junma, where he exercised that brilliant little army
wMch Avas speedily to x>erform such wonders in the Dooab. It will
be as well to give a slight account of the causes of a war Avhich was
speedily to rage through some of the fairest portions of the Indiau
continent.
Shah Allum, the son of Shah Lollum, the descendant by the
female line of Xailir Shah (that ce]cl)nited Toorkomaun adventurer,
who had well-nigh hurled Bajazet and Sehm the Second from the
throne of Bagdad) — Shah Alhmi, I say, although nominally the
Emperor of Delhi, was in reality the slave of the various warlike
chieftains who loi-dwl it by turas over the country and the sovereign,
until cijiiruered and slain by some more sua-.es.sful rebel. Chowder
Lo}I Masolgee, Zublx>rdust Khan, Dowsunt Row Sciudiah, and the
celahrated Bobbachy Jung Bahaw der, liad held for a time complete
i?.vistery in Delhi. The second of these, a ruthless Afghan soldier,
had abmi>tly entered the capital ; nor was he ejected from it until
he had seized upon the principal jewels, and likewise put out the
eyes of the last of the unfortunate fondly of Afrasiab. Sciudiah
came to the rescue of the sightless Shah Allum, and though he
destroyed liis oppressor, only increased his slavery ; holding him
in as jminful a bondage as he had suffered under the tyrannous
Afghan.
As long as these heroes were battling among themselves, or as
long rather as it appeared that they had any strength to fight a
battle, the British Government, ever anxious to see its enemies by
the cai-s, by no m&ms interfered in the contest. But the French
Revolution broke out, and a host of starving sans-culottes appeared
among the vai'ious Indian States, seeking for military service, and
inflaming the minds of tlie various native princes against the British
East India Company. A number of tlie.se entered into Scindiah's
ranks : one of them. Perron, was commander of his army ; and
though that chief was as yet quite eng-aged in his hereditary quarrel
with Jeswunt Row Holkar, and never thought of an inva.sion of the
British territory, the Compimy all of a sudden discovered that Shah
Allum, his sovereign, was shamefully ill-used, and determined tc»
re-c.stai>lish the ancient splendour of his throne.
Of coui-se it was sheer bene\'olence for i)oor Shah Allum that
]i"om]ited our governors to take these kindly measures in his favour.
I don't know how it happened that, at the end of the war, the poor
Shah was not a whit better off than at the lie.dnning ; and that
though Holkar was beaten, and Sciudiah annihilated, Shah Allum
MAJOR GAHACIAN 133
was VMich such a ])ui)pet as before. Somehow, in the huiTy and
confusion of this struggle, the oyster remained witli the British
Governmeut, who had so kindly oftered to dress it for the Emperor,
while his Majesty was obliged to be contented with the .shell.
The force encamped at Kanouge bore the title of the Grand
Army of the Ganges and the J urana ; it consisted of eleven regi-
ments of cavalry and twelve battalions of infantry, and was com-
manded 1 :»y General Lake in person.
Well, on the 1st of September we stormed PeiTon's camp at
AUyghur ; on the 4th we took that fortress by assault ; and as my
name was mentioned in general orders, I may as well quote the
Commander-in-Chief's words regarding )ue — they will spare me the
trouble of composing my ovm culogium : —
" The Cominander-in-Chief is proud thus publicly to declare
his high sense of the gallantry of Lieutenant Gahagan, of the
Cavalry. In the storming of the fortress, although unprovided
witli a single ladder, and accompanied but by a few brave men.
Lieutenant Gahagan succeeded in cscalading the inner and fourteenth
wall of the place. Fourteen ditches lined with sword-blades and
l)oisoned chevaux-de-frise, fourteen waJls bristling with innumerable
artillery and as smooth as looking-glasses, were in turn triumphantly
passed by that enterprising officer. His course Avas to be traced
by the heaps of slaughtei-cd (niemies lying thick upon the platforms ;
and alas ! by the corpses of most of the gallant men Avho followed
him ! Wlien at length he effected his lodgment, and the dastardly
enemy, who dared not to confront him with arms, let loose upon
him tlie tigers and lions of Scindiah's menagerie, tliis meritorious
officer destroyed, with his own hand, four of the largest and most
ferocious animals, and the rest, awed by the indomitable majesty of
Bkitish valour, shrank back to their dens. Thomas Higgory, a
private, and Runty Goss, havildar, were the only two who remained
out of the nine hundred who fallowed Lieutenant Gahagan. Honour
to them ! Hontnir and tears for the brave men who perished on
that awful day ! "
I have copied this, word for word, from the Bengal Hurkaru
of Scj.tember 24, 1803: and anybody who has the slightest doubt
as to the sfcitement, may refer to tlie pa])er itself.
And here I nuist pause to give thanks to Fortune, whith so
marvellously preserved me, Sergeant-Major Higgory, and Eunty
Goss. Were I to say that any valour of ours had carried us uiduu-t
through this tremendous combat, the reader would laugh me to
scorn. No : though my narrative is extraordinaiy, it is nevertheless
.34 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
authentic : and never never woulil I sacrifice truth for the mere
sake of efiect. The fact is this : — the citadel of Allyghiu- is situated
upon a rock, about a tliousand feet above the level of the sea, and is
surrounded by foiu'teen walls, as his Excellency was good enough to
remark in his despatch. A man wlio Avould mount these without
scaling-ladders is an ass ; he who would sn?/ he mounted then;
without such assistance, is a liar and a knave. We had scaling-
ladders at the commencement of the assault, although it was quite
impossible to carry them beyond the first line of batteries. Mounted
on them, however, as our troops were falling thick about me, I saw
that we must ignominiously retreat, unless some other help could be
found for our brave fellows to escalade the next wall. It was about
seventy feet high. I instantly tmuied the guns of wall A on wall B.
and peppered the latter so as to make, not a breach, but a scaling
place ; the men mounting in the holes made by the shot. By this
simple stratagem, I managed to pass each successive barrier — for to
ascend a wall which the General was pleased to call " as smooth as
glass " is an absurd impossibility : I seek to achieve none such : —
" I dare do all that may become a man ;
Who dares do more, is neither more uor less."
Of course, had the enemy's guns been commonly well serveil, not
one of us would ever have been alive out of the three ; but whether
it was owing to fright, or to the excessive smoke caused by so many
pieces of artillery, arrive we ilid. On the platforms, too, our work
was not quite so difficult as might be imagined — killing those fellows
was slieer butchery. As soon as we appeared, they all turned and
fled helter-skelter, and tlie reader may judge of their courage by the
fact that out of al)0Ut seven hundred men killed by us, only forty
had wounds in front, the rest being bayoneted as they ran.
And beyond all other pieces of good fortune was the very letting
out of these tigers ; which was the dernier ressort of Bournon\'ille,
the second commandant of the fort. I had obsen'ed this man (con-
spicuous for a tricoloured scarf which he wore) upon every one of
the walls as we stormed them, and running away the very first
among the fugitives. He liad all the keys of the gates ; and in
his tremor, as he opened the menagerie portal, left the whole buncli
in the door, which I seized when the animals were overcome. Runty
Goss tlien o])ened tliem one by one, our troops entered, and the
victorious standard of ray country floated on the walls of AUyglnir !
When the General, accompanied by his stag", entered the last
line of fortifications, the brave old man raised me from tlie dead
rhinoceros on which I was seated, and pressed me to his breast.
But the excitement which had borne me tlu-ough the fatigues and
MAJOR GAHAGAN 135
perils of that fearful day failed all of a sudden, and I wept like a
child upon his shoulder.
Promotion, in our army, goes unluckily by seniority ; nor is it
in the power of the General-in-Chief to advance a Ceesar, if lie finds
him in the capacity of a subaltern : my reward for the above ex]>loit
was, therefore, not very rich. His Excellency had a favourite horn
snuff-box (for, though exalted in station, he was in his habits most
simple) : of this, and about a quarter of an ounce of higli-dried
Welsh, which he always took, he made me a present, saying, in
front of the line, "Accept this, Mr. Gahagan, as a token of respect
from the first to the bravest ofticer in the army."
Calculating the snuff" to lie Avorth a halfpenny, I should say that
fourpence was about the value of this gift : but it has at least this
good eff"ect — it serves to convince any person who doubts my story,
that the facts of it are really true. I have left it at the office of
my ijublisher, along with the extract from the Bengal Ilnrhiru,
and anybody may examine botli l)y applying in the counting-house
of Mr. Cunningham.* That once popular expression, or proverb,
"Are you up to snuff"?" arose out of the above circumstance; for
the officers of my corps, none of whom, except myself, had ventured
on the storming party, used to twit me about this modest reward
for my labours. Never naind ! when they want me to storm a fort
again, I shall know better.
Well, immediately after the capture of this important fortress,
Perron, who had been the life and soul of Scindiah's army, came
in to us, with his family and treasure, and was passed over to the
French settlements at Chandernagur. Bourquien took his com-
mand, and against him we now moved. The morning of the 11th
of September found us upon the plains of Delhi.
It was a burning hot day, and we were all refreshing ourselves
after the morning's march, when I, who M^as on the advanced picket
along with O'Gawler, of the King's Dragoons, was made aware
of the enemy's neighbourhood in a very singular manner. O'Gawler
and I were seated under a little canopy of horse-cloths, which we
had formed to shelter us from the intolerable heat of the sun,
and were discussing with great delight a few Manilla cheroots,
and a stone jar of the most exquisite, cool, weak, refreshing sangaree.
We had been playing cards the night before, and O'Gawler had
lost to me seven hundred rupees. I emptied the last of the
sangaree into the two pint tumblers out of which we were drinking,
* The Major certainly offered to leave an old snuff-box at Mr. Cunningham's
office ; but it contained no extract from a newspaper, and does not quite prove
that he killed a rhinoceros and stormed fourteen entrenchments at the siege
of AUyghur.
136 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
and holding mine up, said, "Here's better luck to you next time,
O'Gawler ! "
As I spoke the words — whish ! — a cannon-ball cut the tumbler
clean out of my hand, and plumped into poor O'Gawler's stomach.
It settled him completely, and of course I never got my seven
hundred rupees. Such are the uncertainties of war !
To strap on my sabre and my accoutrements — to mount my
Arab charger— to drink off what O'Gawler had left of the sangaree
— and to gallop to the General, was the work of a moment. I
found him as comfortably at titfin as if he were at his own house
in London.
" General," said I, as soon as I got into his paijamahs (or tent),
" you must leave your lunch if you want to fight the enemy."
" The enemy — pslia ! Mr. Gahagan, the enemy is on the other
side of the river."
"I can only tell your Excellency that- the enemy's guns will
hardly can-y five miles, and that Cornet O'Gawler was this moment
bliot dead at my side with a cannon-ball."
" Ha ! is it so ? " said his Excellency, rising, and laying down
the drumstick of a grilled chicken. "Gentlemen, remember that
the eyes of Europe are upon us, and follow me I "
Each aide-de-{;amp started from table and seized his cocked hat ;
each British heart ]:>eat high at the thoughts of the coming melee.
Wo mounted our horses, and gallojied swiftly after the bravo old
General ; I not tlio last in tlie train, upon my famous black charger.
It was perfectly tnie, the enemy were jiosted in force Avithin
three miles of our camp, and from a hillock in the advance to which
we galloped, we were enabled with our telescopes to sec the whole
of his imposing line. Nothing can better describe it than this : —
— A is the enemy, aud the dots represent the hundred and twenty
pieces of artillery which defended his line. He was, moreover,
entrenched ; and a wide morass in his front gave him an adrlitional
security.
His Excellency for a moment surveyed the line, and then said
turning round to one of his aides-de-camp, "Order up Major-General
Tinkler aud the cavalry."
•* Here, does your Excellency mean 1 " said the aide-de-camp,
MAJOR GAHAGAN 137
suriirised, for the enemy had perceived us, and the cannon-balls
were flyin.t,' about as thick as peas.
" Here, sir ! " said the old General, stam])ing Avitli his foot in
a passion, and the A.D.C. shrugged his shoulders and galloped
away. In five minutes Ave heard the trumpets in our camp, and
in twenty more the greater port of the cavalry had joined us.
Uj) they came, five thousand men, their standards flapping in
the air, their long line of ])olished jack-boots gleaming in the golden
sunlight. " And now we are here," said Major-General Sir Theo-
philus Tinkler, " wliat next 1 " " Oh, d it," said the Commander-
in-Chief, " charge, charge — nothing like chai-ging — galloi)ing — guns
— rascally black scoundrels — charge, charge ! " And then turning
round to me (perhaps he was glad to change the conversation),
he said, "Lieutenant Gahagan, you will titay with me."
And well for him I did, for I do not hesitate to say that the
battle 7ras <iained hy me. I do not .niean to insult the reader l)y
pretending that any personal exertions of mine turned the day, —
that I killed, for instance, a regiment of cavalry or swallowed a
battery of guns, — such absurd tales would disgrace both the hearer
and the teller. I, as is well known, never say a single word whicii
cannot be proved, and hate more than all other vices the absurd sin
of egotism : I simply mean that my advice to the General, at a
quarter-iiast two o'clock in the afternoon of that day, won this great
triumiih for the British army.
Gleig, Mill, and Thorn have all told the tale of this war, though
somehow they have omitted all mention of the hero of it. General
Lake, for the victory of that day, became Lord Lake of Laswaree.
Laswaree ! and who, forsooth, was the real conqueror of Laswaree ?
I can lay my hand upon my heart and say that / was. If any
proof is wanting of the fact, let me give it at once, and from the
highest military testimony in the world — I mean that of the
Emperor Xapoleon.
In the month of March 1817, I was passenger on board the
Prince Regent, Ca])tain Harris, which touched at St. Helena on
its passage' from Calcutta to England. In company with the otlier
officers on board the ship, I paid my respects to the illustrious exile
of Longwood, who received us in his garden, where he was walking
about, in a nankeen dress and a large broad-brimmed straw hat,
with General Montholon, Count Las Casas, and his son Emanuel,
then a little boy ; who I dare say does not recollect me, but^ who
nevertheless played with my sword-knot and the tassels oi my
Hessian boots during the whole of our interview with his Imperial
Majesty.
Our names were read out (in a pretty accent, by the way !) by
138 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
General Moiitholon, and the Emperor, as each was pronouncedi
made a bow to the owner of it, but did not vouchsafe a word. At
last Montholon came to mine. The Enij)oror looked me at once
in the face, took his hands out of his pockets, put tliem behind
his back, and coming up to me smiling, pronounced the following
words : — ■
" Assaye, Delhi, Deeg, Futtyghur ? "
I blushed, and, taking off my hat with a bow, said, " Sire,
c'est moi."
" Parbleu ! je le savais bien," said tlie Emperor, holding out his
snuft-box. " Eu usez-vous, Major ? " I took a large ])incli (which,
with the honour of speaking to so great a man, In'ought the tears
into my eyes), and he continued as nearly as possible in the follow-
ing words : —
" Sir, you are known ; you come of an heroic nation. Your
third brotlier, tlie Chef de Bataillon, Count Godfrey Gahagan, was
in my Irish Brigade."
Gahagan. " Sire, it is true. He and my countrymen in your
Majesty's service stood under the green Hag in the breach of Burgos,
and beat "Wellington back. It wa.s the only time, as your Majesty
knows, that Irishmen and Englishmen were beaten in tliat war."
Nai^oleon {looking as if he would say, "Z* your candour,
Major Gahagan"). ""Well, well ; it was so. Your brother was a
Count, and died a General in my service."
Gahagan. " He was found lying upon the bodies of nine-and-
twenty Cossacks at Borodino. They were all dead, and hcire the
Gahagan mark."
Xapoleon {to Montholov). " C'est vrai, Montholon : je vous
donne ma i)aroIe d'honneur la plus sacrdc, que c'est vrai. lis ne
sont pas d'autres, ces terribles Ga'gans. You must know that
Monsieiu* gained the battle of Delhi as certainly as I did that of
Austerlitz. In this way : — Ce belitre de Lor Lake, after calling
\i\) his cavalry, and placing them in front of Holkar's batteries, qui
balayaient la plaine, was for charging the enemy's batteries with his
horse, who would have been ^crasds, mitrailMs, foudroy^s to a man
but for the cunning of ce grand rogue que vous voyez."
Montholon. " Coquin de Major, va ! "
Xapoleon. " Montholon ! tais-toi. When Lord Lake, with
his great bull-headed English obstinacy, saw the fdcheuse position
into which he had brought his troops, he wa.s for dying on the spot,
and would infallibly have done so — and the loss of his army would
have been the niin of the East India Company — and the niin of
the English East India Company vrould have established my Empire
(bah ! it was a republic then !) in the East — but that the man
MAJOR GAHAGAN 139
before us, Lieutenant Goliah Galiagan, was riding at the side of
General Lake."
Montholon (with an acceyit of desjmir and fury), " Grcdin !
cent mille tonnerres de Dieu ! "
Napoleon {benignantly). " Calme-toi, mon fiddle ami. What
will you? It was fate. Gahagan, at the critical period of the
battle, or rather slaughter (for the English had not slain a man
of the enemy), advised a retreat."
Montholon. " Le lache ! Un Fran^ais meurt, mais il ne recule
jamais."
Napoleon. " Stnpide ! Don't you see ",.vhy the retreat was
ordered ? — don't you know that it was a feint on the part of
Gahagan to draw Holkar from his impregnable entrenchments 1
Don't you know that the ignorant Lidian fell into tlie snare, and
issuing from beliind the cover of his guns, came down with his
cavalry on the plains in pursuit of Lake and his dragoons ? Then
it was that the Englishmen turned upou him ; the hardy children
of the North swe]:)t down his feeble horsemen, bore them back to
their guns, which were useless, entered Holkar's entrenchments
along with his troops, sabred the artillerymen at their pieces, and
won the battle of Dellii ! "
As the Emperor spoke, his pale check glowed red, his eye
flashed fire, his deep clear voice rung as of old when lie i)ointed out
the enemy from beneath the shadow of the Pyramids, or rallied his
regiments to tlie charge upon the death-strewn plain of Wagram.
I have had many a proud moment in my life, but never such a
proud one as this ; and I would readily pardon the word " coward,"
as applied to me by Montholon, in consideration of the testimony
which his master bore in my favour.
" Major," said the Emperor to me in conclusion, " why had I
not such a man as \o\x in my service 1 I would have made you a
Prince and a Marshal ! " and here he fell into a reverie, of which
I knew and respected the purport. He was thinking, doubtless,
that I miglit have retrieved his fortunes ; and indeed I have very
little doubt that I might.
Very soon after coffee was brought by Monsieur Marchand,
Napoleon's valet-de-chambre, and after partaking of that beverage,
and talking upon the politics of the day, the Emperor Mithdiew,
leaving me deeply impressed by the condescension he had shown in
this remarkable interview.
CHAPTER III
A PEEP INTO SPAIX— ACCOUNT OF THE ORIGIN AND SERVICES
OF THE AHMEDNUGGAR IRREGULARS
Headquarters, Morella : September 15, 1838.
IHAVE been here for some months, along with my young friend
Cabrera ; and in the liurry and bustle of war — daily on guard
and in the batteries for sixteen hours out of the twenty-foiu-,
with fourteen severe wounds and seven musket-balls in my body —
it may be imagined that I have had little time to think about the
publicaticn of my memoirs. Inter anna silent leges — in the midst
of fighting be hanged to "WTiting ! as the poet says ; and I never
would have bothered myself with a pen, had not common gratitude
inciteil me to throw off a few pages.
Along with Oraa's troops, who have of late been beleaguering
this i)lace, there was a young Milesian gentleman, Mr. Toone
O'Connor Euunctt Fitzgerald Sheeny by name, a law student, and
a member of Gray's Inn, and what he called Bay Ah of Trinity
College, Dublin. ]\Ir. Sheeny was with the Queen's people, not
in a military capacity, but as representative of an English journal ;
to wliich, for a trifling weekly remuneration, he was in the habit of
transmitting accounts of the movements of the belligerents, and his
own opinion of the politics of Spain. Receiving, for the discharge
of his duty, a couple of guineas a week from the proprietors of the
journal in (luestion, he was enabled, as I need scarcely say, to make
such a show in Oraa's camp as only a Christino general officer, or at
the very least a colonel of a regiment, can afford to keep up.
In the famous sortie which we maileupon the twenty-third, I
was of course among the foremost in the melee, and found myself,
after a good deal of slaughtering (which it would be as disagreeable
as useless to describe here), in the court of a small inn or podesta,
which had been made the headquarters of several Queenite officers
during the siege. The pesatero or landlord of the inn had been
despatched by my brave chapel-churics, with his fine family of
children — -the officers quartered in the podesta had of course bolted ;
but one man remained, and my fellows were on the i)oint of cutting
Liim into ten thousand pieces ^nth their borachios, when I arrived
MAJOR GAHAGAN 141
in the room time enough to prevent the catastrophe. Seeing before
me an individual in the costume of a civilian — a white hat, a light-
blue satin cravat, embroidered Avith butterflies and other quadrupeds,
a green coat and brass buttons, and a pair of blue plaid trousers, I
recognised at once a countryman, and interposed to save his life.
In an agonised brogue the unhappy young man was saying all
that he could to induce the chapcl-churies. to give up their intention
of slaughtering hijn ; but it is very little likely that his protesta-
tions would have had any effect upon them, had not I appeared in
the room, and shouted to the ruffians to hold their hand.
Seeing a general officer before them (I have the honour to hold
that rank in the service of His Catholic Majesty), and moreover
one six feet four in height, and armed with that terrible cabecilla
(a sword so called, because it is five feet long) which is so well
known among the Spanish armies — seeing, I say, this figure, the
fellows retired, exclaiming, " Adios, corpo di bacro nosotros," and
so on, clearly proving (by their words) that they would, if they
dared, have immolated the victim whom I had thus rescued from
their fury. " Villains ! " shouted I, hearing them grumble, " away !
quit the apartment ! " Each man, sulkily sheathing his sombrero,
obeyed, and quitted the camarilla.
It was then that Mr. Sheeny detailed to me the particulars to
which I have briefly adverted ; and, informing me at the same
time that he had a fiimily in England who would feel oljliged to
me for his release, and that his most intimate friend the English
Ambassador would move heaven and earth to revenge his fall, he
directed my attention to a portmanteau passably aycII filled, which
he hoped would, satisfy the cujadity of my trooi)S. I said, though
with much regret, that I nnist subject his pers(.in to a search ; and
hence arose the circumstance which has called for what I fear you
will consider a somewhat tedious explanation. I found upon Mr.
Sheeny's person three sovereigns in English money (which I have to
this day), and singidarly enough a copy of the Xcio Monthly
Magazine, containing a jjortiou of my adventures. It was a toss-uj)
whether I should let the poor young man be shot or no, but this
little circumstance saved his life. The gratified vanity of author-
ship induced me to accept his ix)rtmanteau and valual)les, and to
allow the poor wretch to go free. I put the magazine in my coat-
pocket, and left him and the podesta.
The men, to my surprise, had quitted the building, and it was
full time for me to follow ; for I found our sallying party, after com-
mitting dreadful ravages in Oraa's lines, were in full retreat upon
the fort, hotly pressed by a superior Ibrce of the enemy. I am
pretty well knov/n and respected by the men of both parties in
12
142 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
Spain (indeed I served for some months on the Queen's side before
I came over to Don Carlos) ; and, as it is my maxim never to give
quarter, I never expect to receive it when taken myself. On issuing
from the poflesta with Sheeny's portmanteau and my sword in my
hand, I was a little disgusted and annoyed to see our own men in a
pretty good column retreating at double-quick, and about four
hundred yards beyond me, uj) the hill leading to the fort ; Avhile on
my left hand, and at only a hundred yards, a troop of the Queenite
lancers were clattering along the road.
I had got into the very middle of the road before I made this
discovery, so that the fellows had a full sight of me, and whizz !
came a bullet by my left whisker before I could say Jack Robinson.
I looked roimd — there Avere seventy of the accursed malvados at the
least, and witliin, as I said, a hundred yards. Were I to say that
I stopped to fight seventy men, you would write me down a fool or
a liar : no, sir, I did not fight, I ran away.
I am six feet four — my figure is as well known in the Sjianish
army as that of the Count de Luchana, or my fierce httle friend
Cabrera himself " Gahagan ! " shouted out half-a-dozen scoundrelly
voices, and fifty more shots came rattling after me. I was running
— running as the brave stag before the hounds — running as I have
done a great number of times before in my life, when there was no
help for it but a race.
After I had vm\ about five hundred yards, I saw that I had
gained nearly tliree upon our column in front, and that likewise the
Christino horsemen were left behind some hundred yards more
with the exception of three, who were fearfidly near me. The first
was an officer without a lance ; he had fired both his i)istols at me,
and was twenty yards in advance of his comrades ; there was a
similar distance between the two lancers who rode behind him. I
determined then to Avait for No. 1, and as he came uj) delivered cut
3 at his horse's woax leg — oft' it flew, and down, as I expected, went
horse and man. I had hardly time to pass iny sword through my
prostrate enemy, when No. 2 was upon me. If I could but get
that f(>llow's horse, thought I, I am .safe ; and I executed at once
the jilan wliirh I hoped was to effect my rescue.
I had, as I said, left the podesta with Sheeny's portmanteau,
and, unwilling to part with some of the articles it contained — some
shirts, a bottle of whisky, a few cakes of Windsor soap, &c. &c., —
I had carried it thus far on my shoulders, but now Avas compelled
to sacrifice it malgr4 moi. As the lancer came uj) I dropjied my
sword from my right hand, and hurled tlic iiortmanteau at his head,
with aim so true, tliat he fell back on his saddle like a sack, and
thus when the horse galloped up to me, I had no difficuity in dis-
J
MAJOR GAHAGAN 143
mounting the rider : the whisky-bottle struck him over his right
eye, and he was completely stunned. To dash him from the saddle
and spring myself into it, was the work of a moment ; indeed, the
two combats had taken place in about a fifth part of the time which
it has taken the reader to jieruse the descripti(jn. But in the
rapidity of the last encounter, and the mounting of my enemy's horse,
I had committed a very absurd oversight — I was scampering away
ivithout my sword! What was I to do'? — to scamper on, to be
sure, and trust to the legs of my horse for safety !
The lancer behind me gained on me every moment, and I could
hear his horrid laugh as he neared me. I leaned forward jockey-
fashion in my saddle, and kicked, and urged, and flogged with my
hand, but all in vain. Closer — closer — the point of his lance was
within two feet of my back. Ah ! ah ! he delivered the point, and
fancy my agony when I felt it enter — through exactly fifty-nine
pages of the N'e%o Monthly Magazine. Had it not been for that
magazine, I sliouhl have been impaled without a shadow of a doubt.
Was I wrong in feeling gi-atitudc 1 Had I not cause to continue my
contributions to that periodical ?
When I got safe into Morella, along with the tail of tlie sallying
party, I was for the first time made acquainted with the ridiculous
result of the lancer's thrust (as he delivered his lance, I must tell
you that a ball came whizz over my head from our fellows, and
entering at his nose, put a stop to his lancing for the future). I
hastened to Cabrera's quarter, and related to him some of my
adventures during the day.
" But, General," said he, " you are standing. I leg you chindete
Vuscio (take a chair)."
I did so, and then for the first time was aware that there was
some foreign substance in the tail of my coat, wiiich prevented my
sitting at ease. I drew out the magazine which I had seized, and
there, to my wonder, discovered the Christino lance twisted up like
a fish-hook or a pastoral crook.
" Ha ! ha ! ha ! " said Cabrera (wlio is a notorious wag).
"Valdepeuas madrilenos," growled out Tristany.
" By my cachuca di caballero (upon my honour as a gentleman),"
shrieked out Ros d'Erolcs, convulsed with laughter, " I will send it
to the Bishop of Leon for a crozier."
"Gahagan has consecrated it," giggled out Ramon Cabrera; and
so they went on with their muchacas for an hour or more. But
when they heard that the means of my salvation from the lance of
the scoundrelly Christino had been the magazine containing my own
history, their laugh was changed into ^wonder. I read them (speak-
ing Spanish more fluently than English) every word of my story.
144 I'HK TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
" But how is this 1 " said Cabrera. " You surely have other ad-
ventures to relate 1 "
"Excellent sir," said I, "I have-" and that very evening, as
we sat over our cups of tertuUia (sangaree), I continued my narrative
in nearly the following words : —
" I left off in the very middle of the battle of Delhi, which
ended, as everybody knows, in the complete triumph of the British
arms. But who gained the battle 1 Lord Lake is called Viscount
Like of Delhi and Laswaree, while Major Gaha — nonsense, never
mind him, never mind tlie charge he executed when, sabre in hand,
h3 leaped the six-foot wall in the mouth of the roaring cannon, over
tha heads of the gleaming pikes ; when, with one hand seizing the
sacred peislicush, or fish — which was the banner always borne before
Soindiah, — he, with his good sword, cut off the trunk of the famous
white elephant, which, shrieking with agony, plunged madly into the
Mahratta ranks, followeil by his giant brethren, tossing, like chaff
before the wind, the affrighted kitmatgars. He, meanwhile, now
plunging into the midst of a battalion of consomahs, now cleaving to
the chine a screaming and ferocious bobbachee,* rushed on, like the
simoom across the red Zaharan plain, killing, with his own hand, a
hundred and forty-thr but never mind — 'alone he did it;' suffi-
cient be it for him, however, that the victory was won : he cares not
for the empty honours which were awarded to more fortunate men !
" We marched after the battle to Delhi, where poor blind old
Shah Allum received us, and bestowed all kinds of honours and
titles on our General. As each of the officers passed before him, the
Shah did not fliil to remark my iierson,t and was told my name.
" Lord Lake whispered to him my exploits, and the old man
was so delighted with the account of my victory over the elephant
(whose trunk I use to this day), that he said, ' Let him be called
GujpUTi,' or the lord of elephants : and Gujputi was the name by
which I Avas afterwards familiarly known among the natives, — the
men, that is. The women had a softer appellation for me, and called
me '■ Mushook,' or charmer.
" Well, I shall not describe Delhi, which is doubtless well known
t y the reader ; nor the siege of Agra, to which place we went -from
DoUii ; nor the terrible day at Laswaree, which went nigh to finish
til 3 war. Suffice it to say that we were victorious, and that I was
* The double-jointed camel of Bactria, which the classic reader may re-
collect is mentioned by Suidas (in his Conmientnry on the Fli<jht of Darius), is
so called by the Mabrattas.
+ There is some trifling inconsistency on the Major's part. Shah Alhim was
notoriously blind : how, then, could he have seen Gahagan ? The thing is mani-
festly impossible.
MAJOR GAHAGAN 145
wounded ; as I have invariably been in the two hundred and foui
occasions when I have found myself in action. One jjoint, however,
became in the course of this caniimign quite evident — that soiaething
must be done for Gahagan. The country cried shame, the King's
troops grumbled, the seixjys openly nun-mured that their Gujputi
Avas only a lieutenant, when he had ])erformed such signal services.
What was to be done 1 Lord Wellcsley was in an evident quandary.
'Gahagan,' wrote he, 'to be a subaltern is evidently not your fate
— you tuere horn for roiinnand ; but Lake and General Wellesley
are good officers, they cannot be turned out — I nuist make a post for
you. AVhat say you, my dear fellow, to a corps of iiTcgular horse ? '
"Itwas thus that the fiimous corjjsof AhmednuggakIiiregulaes
had its origin ; a guerilla force, it is true, but one which will long
be remembered in tlie annals of our Indian campaigns.
"As the commander of this regiment, I was allowed to settle
the r.niform of the corjjs, as well as to select recruits. These were
not wanting as soon as my appointment was made known, but
came flocking to my standard a great deal faster than to the regular
corps in the Company's service. I had European officers, of course,
to command them, and a few of my countrymen as sergeants ; the
rest were all natives, whom I chose of the strongest and bravest
men in India; chiefly Pitans, Afghans, Hurrumzadelis, and Calliawns:
for these are well known to be the most warlike districts of our
Indian territory.
" When on parade and in full uniform we made a singular and
nol")le appearance. I was always fond of dress ; and in this in-
stance gave a carte blanche to my taste, and invented the most
splendid costume that ever i^erhaps decorated a soldier. I am, as
I have stated already, six feet four inches in height, and of matcli-
less symmetry and i^roportion. My hair and beard are of tlie most
brilliant auburn, so bright as scarcely to be distinguished at a
distance from scarlet. My eyes are bright blue, overshadowed by
bushy eyebrows of the colour of my hair, and a terrific gasli of the
deepest purple, which goes over the foreliead, the eyelid, and the
cheek, and finishes at the ear, gives my face a more strictly military
appearance than can be conceived. When I have been drinking
(as is pretty often the case) this gash becomes ruby bright, and as
I have another which took off" a piece of my under-lip, and shows
five of my front teeth, I leave you to imagine that ' seldom lighted
on the earth ' (as the monster Burke remarked of one of his unliappy
victims) ' a more extraordinary vision.' I imi)roved these natural
advantages; and, while in cantonment during the hot winds at
Chittyb6bbary, allowed my hair to grow very long, as did my beard,
146 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
which reached to my Avaist. It took me two hours daily to curl
my hair in ten thousand little corkscrew ringlets, which waved over
my shoulders, and to get my moustaches well round to the corners
of my eyelids. I dressed in loose scarlet trousers and red morocco
boots, a scarlet jacket, and a shawl of the same colour round my
waist ; a scarlet turban three feet high, and decorated with a tuft
of the scarlet feathers of the flamingo, formed my head-dress, and
I did not allow myself a single ornament, except a small silver skull
and croas-bones in front of my turban. Two brace of pistols, a
Malay crc-ese, and a tulwar, sharp on both sides, and very nearly
six feet in length, completed this elegant costume. My two flags
were each surmounted with a real skull and cross-bones, and orna-
mented one with a black, and the other with a red beard (of
enormous length, taken from men slain in battle by me). On one
flag were of course the arms of John Comi)any ; on the other, an
image of myself bestriding a prostrate elephant, with the simple
word 'GujpUTi' written underneath in the Nagarec, Persian, and
Sanscrit characters. I rode my black horse, and looked, l)y the
immortal gods, like Mars. To me might be applied the words
which were written concerning hantlsome General ^^'ebb, in I\Iarl-
borough's time : —
' To noltlc d.'irifjcr lio conducts the way.
His great example all his troop obey,
Before the front the Major sternly rides,
With such an air as Mars to battle strides.
Propitious Heaven must sure a hero save
Like Paris handsome, and like Hector brave ! '
"My oflicei-s (Captains Biggs and Mackanulty, Lieutenants
Glogger, Pajipendirk, Stuflle, &c. &c.) were dressed exactly in the
same way, but in yellow ; and the men were similarly eciuijipcd, but
in Itlack. I have seen many regiments since, and many ferocious-
looking men, but the Ahmednuggjir Irregulars were more dreadful
to the view tliaii any set of niflians on whieh I ever set eyes. I
would to Heaven that the Czar of Muscovy had passed through
Cabool and Lahore, and that I with my old Ahmednuggars stood
on a fair field to meet him ! Bless you, bless you, my swart com-
panicns in victory ! through the mist of twenty years I hear the
booming of your war-cry, and mark the glitter of your scimitars as
ye rage in the thickest of the battle ! *
* I dj not wish to brag of my stylo of writing, or to pretend that my
penius a-; a writer has not been equalled in former times ; but if, in the works
of Byron, Scott, Goethe, or Victor Hugo, the reader can find a more beautiful
sentence than the above, I vs-ill be obliged to him, that is all — I simply say, /
will be ol.lficd to him.—G. O'G. G., M.H.E.I.C.S., C.I.H.A.
MAJOR GAHAGAN 147
" But away -with melancholy reminiscences. You may fancy
what a figure the Irregulars cut on a field-day — a line of five
hundred black-fliced, hlack-dressed, hlack-horsed, black-bearded men
— Biggs, Glogger, and the other officers in yellow, galloping about
the field like flashes of lightning ; myself enlightening them, red,
solitary, and majestic, like yon glorious orb in heaven.
"There are very few men, I ])resume, Avho have not heard
of Holkar's sudden and gallant incursion into the Dooab, in the
year 1804, when Ave thought that the victory of Laswaree and the
brilliant success at Deeg had completely finished him. Taking ten
thousand horse he broke \\\) his camj) at Palimbang ; and the first
thing General Lake heard of him Avas, that he Avas at Putna, then
at Rumpooge, then at Doncaradam — he Avas, in fact, in the very
heart of our territory.
" The unfortunate part of the affair Avas this : — His Excellency,
despising the Mahratta chieftain, had alloAvcd him to advance about
two thousand miles in his front, and knew not in the slightest
degree where to lay hold on him. Was he at Hazarubaug'? Avas he
at Bogly Gunge'? nobody knew, and for a considerable period the
movements of Lake's caA'alry Avere (piite ambiguous, uncertain, j^ro-
miscuous, and rndetermined.
"Such, briefly, Avas the state of aftairs in October 1804. At
the beginning of that month I had been Avoundcd (a trifling scratch,
cutting ott" my left upper eyelid, a bit of my cheek, and my under-
lip), and I was obliged to leave Biggs in ciaumand of my Irregidar;'-,
whilst I retired for my Avounds to an English station at Furruckal)ad,
alias Futtyghur — it is, as every twopenny postman knows, at the
apex of the Dooab. We have there a cantonment, and thither I
went for the mere sake of the surgeon and the sticking-plaster.
" Furruckabad, then, is divided into tAvo districts or toAvns : the
lower C^otwal, inhabited by the natives, and the up|)er (which is
fortified slightly, and has all along been called Futtyghur, meaning
in Hindustanee ' the-faA'ouritc-resort-of-the-Avhite-foced-Feringhees-
near-the-mango-tope-consecrated-to-Ram '), occupied by Europeans.
(It is astonisiiing, by the Avay, hoAv comprehensive that language is,
and hoAv much can be conveyed in one or tAvo of the conmionest
phrases.)
" Biggs, then, and my men AS'ere playing all sorts of Avondrous
pranks Avith Lord Lake's army, Avhilst I Avas detained an unwilling
prisoner of health at Futtyghur.
" An unAvilling prisoner, hoAvever, I should not say. The canton-
ment at Futtyghur contained that Avliich Avould have made any man
a happy sla-ve. Woman, lovely woman, Avas there in abundance and
3'ariety ! Tlie fact is, that, Avhcn the campaign commenced in 1803,
148 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
the ladies of the army all congregated to this place, where they were
left, as it was supposed, in safety. I might, like Homer, relate the
names and qualities of all. I may at least mention some whose
memory is still most dear to me. There was —
" Mrs. Major-General Bulcher, wife of Bulcher of the Infantry.
" Miss Bulcher.
" Miss Belinda Bulcher (whose name I beg the printer to
place in large capitals).
" Mrs. Colonel Vandegobbleschroy.
" Mrs. Major Macan and the four Misses Macan.
" The Honourable Mrs. Burgoo, ]\Irs. Flix, Hicks, Wicks, and
iuany more too numerous to mention. The flower of our camp was,
however, collected there, and tlie last words of Lord Lake to me, as
I left him, were, ' Galiagan, I commit those women to your charge.
Guard tlicm with your life, watch over them with your honour,
defend tliem with the matchless power of your indomitable arm.'
" Futtyghur is, as I have said, a European station, and the
pretty air of the bungalows, amid the clustering topes of mango-
trees, has often ere this excited the admiration of the tourist and
sketcher. On the brow of a hill — the Burrumpooter river rolls
majestically at its base ; and no spot, in a word, can be conceived
more exquisitely arranged, both by art and nature, as a favourite
residence of tlie British fair. Mrs. Bulcher, Mrs. A^'andcgobbleschroy,
and the other married ladies above mentioned, had each of them
delightful bungalows and gardens in the place, and between one
cottage anil another my time passed as delightfully as can the hours
of any man who is away from his darling occupation of war.
"I was the commandant of tlie fort. It is a little insignificant
pettah, defended simply by a couple of gabions, a very ordinary
counterscai-p, and a bomb-proof embrasure. On the top of this my
flag was pmntcd, and the small garrison of forty men only Avere
comfortably barracked oft' in the casemates within. A surgeon
and two chaplains (there Avere besides three reverend gentlemen
of amateur missions, who lived in the town) completed, as I may
say, the garrison of our little fortalice, which I was left to defend
and to command.
"On the night of the first of November, in the year 1804, I
had invited ]\Irs. Major-General Bidcher and her daughters, ]Mrs.
Vandegobbleschroy, and, indeed, all the ladies in the cantonment,
to a little festival in honour of tlie recovery of my healtli, of the
commencement of the shooting season, and indeed as a farewell visit,
for it was my intention to take dawk the A'ery next morning and
return to my regiment. The three amateur missionaj-ies whom I
have mentioned, and some ladies in the cantonment of very rigid
MAJOR GAHAGAN 149
religions principles, refused to appear at my little party. They
had better never have been born tlian have done as they did : as
you shall hear.
" AVe had been dancing merrily all night, and the supjier (chietly
of the delicate condor, the luscious adjutant, and other birds of a
similar kind, which I hud shot in the course of the day) had been
duly feted by every lady and gentleman present ; when I took an
opportunity to retire on the ramparts, with the interesting and
lovely Belinda Bulcher. I w^as occupied, as the French say, in
conter-iwg Jieurettes to this sweet young creature, when, all of a
sudden, a rocket was • seen whizzing through the air, and a strong
light was visible in the valley below the little fort.
"'What, fireworks! Captain Gahagan,' said Belinda; 'this is
too gallant.'
" ' Indeed, my dear Miss Bulcher,' said I, ' they are fireworks of
which I have no idea : perhaps our friends tlie missionaries '
" ' Look, look ! ' said Belinda, trend:)ling, and clutching tightly
hold of my arm: 'what do I see? yes — no — yes! it is — our
hungaloiv is in flames I '
"It was true, the spacious bungalow occupied by Mrs. Major-
General was at that moment seen a prey to the devouring element
— another and another succeeded it — seven bungalows, before I could
almost ejaculate the name of Jack Robinson, were seen blazing
brightly in the black midnight air !
" I seized my night-glass, and looking towards the sjjot where
the conflagration raged, what was my astonishment to see thousands
of black forms dancing round the fires ; whilst by their lights I
could observe columns after columns of Indian horse, arriving and
taking up their ground in the very middle of the open square or
tank, round which the bungalows weve built !
" ' Ho, warder ! ' shouted I (while the frightened and trembling
Belinda clung closer to my side, and pressed the stalwart arm that
encircled her waist), ' down with the drawbridge ! see that your masol-
gees' (small tumbrels Avhich are used in place of large artillery)
' be well loaded : you, sepoys, hasten and man the ravelin ! you,
choprasees, put out the lights in the embrasures ! we sliall have
warm work of it to-night, or my name is not Goliah Gahagan.'
"The ladies, the guests (to the number of eighty-three), ll;e
sepoys, choprasees, masolgees, and so on, had all crowded on the
platform at the sound of my shouting, and dreadful was the cnn-
sternation, shrill the screaming, occasioned by my words. The r.:cn
stood irresolute and unite with terror; the women, trembling, knew
scarcely whither to fly for refuge. ' Who are yonder ruflians ? ' f aid i.
A hundred voices yelped in rei)ly— some said the Pindarces, some
150 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
said the Mahrattas, some vowed it was Scindiab, and others declared
it was Holkar — no one knew.
"'Is there any one here,' said I, 'who will venture to recon-
noitre yonder troops ? ' There was a dead pause.
" ' A thousand tomauns to the man who vnW bring me news of
yonder army ! ' again I repeated. Still a dead silence. The fact
was tliat Sfindiah and Holkar both were so notorious for their
cruelty, that no one dared venture to face the danger. * Oh for
fifty of my brave Ahmednuggarees ! ' thought I.
" ' Gentlemen,' said I, ' I see it — you are cowards — none of you
dare encounter the chance even of death. It is an encouraging
prospect : know you not that the niffian Holkar, if it be he, will
with to-morrow's dawn beleaguer our little fort, and throAV thou-
sands of men against our walls'? know you not that, if we are
taken, there is no quarter, no liope ; deatli for us — and worse than
death for these lovely ones assembled here?' Here the ladies
shrieked and raised a howl as I liave hoard tlie jackals on a sununer's
evening. Belinda, my dear Belinda ! Hung both her arms round me,
and sobbed on my shoulder (or in my waistcoat-pocket rather, for
the little witch couhl reach no higher).
" ' Captain Gahajtan,' sobbed she, ' Go — Go — Goggle — iah 1 '
" ' ]\Iy souls adored ! ' replied I.
" * Swear to me one thing.'
" ' I swear.'
" « That if— that if— the nasty, horrid, odious black Mah-ra-a-a-
attahs take the fort, you will put me out of their power.'
" I clasped the dear girl to my heart, and swore upon my sword
that, rather than she should incur the risk of dishonour, she sliould
perish by my own hand. This comforted her; and lier mother,
Mrs. Major-General Buklier, and her elder sister, who had not until
now known a word of our attachment (indeed, but for these extra-
orilinary circumstances, it is ]irol)able that we ourselves should never
have discovered it), were under tliese painful circumstances made
aware of my beloved Belinda's partiality for me. Having communi-
cated thus her wish of self-destruction, I thought her exami)le a
touching and excellent one, and proposed to all the ladies that they
should follow it, and that at the entry of the enemy into the fort,
and at a signal given by me, they should one and all make away
with themselves. Fancy my disgust when, after making this
proposition, not one of the ladies chose to accede to it, and received
it with the same chilling denial that my former proposal to the
garrison had met with.
" In the nuilst of this hurry and confusion, as if purposely to add
to it, a trumpet was heard at the gate of the fort, and one of the
MAJOR GAHAGAN
^5^
sentinds came running to me, saying tliat a Mahratta soldier was
before tlie gate M'itli a flag of truce !
" I Avent down, rightly conjecturing, as it turned out, that the
party, whoever they might be, had no artillery ; and received at the
point of my sword a scroll of which the fiJlowing is a translation : —
" ' 1^0 Goliah Gahwjan Gvjpiiti.
" 'Lord of Elephants, Sir, — I have the honour to inform you
that I arrived before tliis place at eight o'clock p.m. with ten thousand
cavalry under my orders. I have burned, since my arrival, seventeen
bungalows in Furruckabad and Futtyghur, and have likcAvise been
under the painful necessity of putting to death three clergymen
(mollahs) and seven English otticers, whom I found in the village ;
the women have been transferred to safe keeping in the h.arems of
my officers and myself.
" ' As I know your courage and talents, I shall lie very happy if
you will surrender tlie fortress, and take service as a major-general
(hookahbadar) in my army. Should my i)roposal not meet with
your assent, I beg leave to state that to-morrow I shall storm the
fort, and on taking it, shall put to death every male in the garrison,
and every female above twenty years of age. For yourself I shall
reserve a punishment, which for novelty and exquisite torture has, I
flatter myself, hardly ever been exceeded. Awaiting the favour of
a reply, I am. Sir, your very obedient servant,
" ' Jeswunt Row Holkar.
" 'Camp before Futtyghuu : Septcmhtr 1, 1804.
" ' R. S. V. P.'
" The officer who had brought this precious epistle (it is aston-
ishing how Holkar had aped the fonns of English correspondence),
an enormous Pitan soldier, with a shirt of mail, and n steel cap
and cape, round which his turban womid, was leaning against the
gate on his matchlock, and whistling a national melody. I read
the letter, and saw at once there was no time to be lost. That
man, thought I, must never go back to Holkfir. Were lie to
attack us now before we were prepared, the fort would be his in
half-an-hour.
" Tying my white pocket-handkerchief to a stick, I flung open
the gate and advanced to the oflicer : he was standing, I said, on the
little bridge across the moat. I made him a low salaam, after the
fashion of the country, and, as he bent forward to return the com-
pliment, I am sorry to say, I plunged forward, gave him a violent
152 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
blow on the head, which deprived him of all sensation, and then
dragged him within the Avail, raising the drawbridge after me.
" I bore the body into my own apartment ; there, swift a.? thought,
I stripped him of his turban, cammerbund, peijammahs, and papooshes,
and, putting them on myself, determined to go forth and reconnoitre
the enemy."
Here I was obliged to stop, for Cabrera, Ros d'Eroles, and the
rest of the staff were sound asleep ! What I did in my reconnais-
sance, and how I defended the fort of Futtyghur, I shall have the
honour of telling on another occasion.
CHAPTER IV
THE INDIAN CAMP— THE SORTIE FROM THE FORT
Headquarters; Morella : October 3, 1838.
IT is a balmy night. I hear the merry jingle of the tambourine,
and the cheery voices of the girls and peasants, as they dance
beneath my casement, under the shadow of the clustering vines.
The laugli and song pass gaily round, and even at tliis distance I
can distinguish the elegant form of Ramon Cabrera, as he whispers
gay nothings in the ears of the Andalusian girls, or joins in the
thrilling chorus of Riego's hymn, wliich is ever and anon vociferated
by the enthusiastic soldiery of Carlos Quinto. I am alone, in the
most inaccessible and most bomb-proof tower of our little fortalice ;
the large casements are open — the wind, as it enters, whisjiers in
my ear its odorous recollections of the orange grove and the myrtle
bower. My torch (a branch of the fragrant cedar-tree) flares and
flickers in tlic midnight breeze, and disperses its scent and burning
splinters on my scroll and the desk where I write — meet implements
for a soldier's authorship !- — it is cartridge jiaper over which my
pen nins so glibly, and a yawning barrel of gunpowder forms my
rough writing-table. Around me, below me, above me, all — all is
peace ! I think, as I sit here so lonely, on my country, England !
and muse over the sweet and bitter recollections of my early days !
Let me resume my narrative at the point Avhere (interrupted by
the authoritative summons of war) I paused on the last occasion.
I left oflf, I think — (for I am a thousand miles away from proof-
sheets as I write, and, were I not writing the simple truth, must
contradict myself a thousand times in the course of my tale) — I
think, I say, that I left off" at that period of my story, wlien,
Holkar being before Futtyghur, and I in command of that fortress,
I had just been compelled to make away with his messenger : and,
dressed in the fallen Indian's accoutrements, went forth to recon-
noitre the force, and, if possible, to learn the intentions of the
enemy. However much my figure might have resembled that of the
Pitan, and, disguised in his armour, might have deceived the lynx-
eyed Mahrattas, into whose camp I was about to plunge, it Avas
evident that a single glance at my fair face and auburn beard would
N
154 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
have undeceived the dullest blockhead in Holkars army. Seizing,
then, a bottle of Burgess's walnut catsup, I dyed my face and my
hands, and, with the simple aid of a flask of Warren's jet, I made
my hair and beard as black as ebony. The Indian's helmet and
chain hood covered likewise a great part of my face, and I hoped
thus, with luck, impudence, and a complete command of all the
Eastern dialects and languages, from Burmah to Afghanistan, to
pass scot-free through this somewhat dangerous ordeal.
I had not the word of the night, it is true — but I trusted to
good fortune for that, and passed boldly out of the fortress, bearing
the flag of truce as before ; I had scarcely passed on a couple of
hundred yards, when lo ! a party of Indian horsemen, armed like
him I had just overcome, trotted towards me. One was leading
a noble wliite charger, and no sooner did he see me than, dismount-
ing from his own horse, and giving the rein to a companion, he
advanced to meet me with the charger ; a second fellow likewise
dismounted and followed the first : one held the bridle of the horse,
while the other (with a multitude of salaams, aleikums, and other
genuflections) held the jewelled stirrup, and kneeling, waited until I
should mount.
I took the hint at once : the Indian who had come up to the
fort was a great man — that was evident ; I walked on with a
majestic air, gathered up the velvet reins, and spnmg into the
magnificent high-peaked saddle. " Buk, buk," said I. " It is
good. In the name of the forty-nine Imaums, let us ride on."
And the wliole party set off at a brisk trot, I keeping silence, and
thinking with no little trepidation of what I was about to encounter.
As we rode along, I heard two of the men commenting upon my
unusual silence (for I suppose, I — that is the Indian — was a talka-
tive oflicer). " The lips of the Bahawder are closed," said one.
" Where are those birds of Paradise, his long-tailed words 1 they
are imprisoned between the golden bars of his teeth ! "
"Kush," said his companion, "be quiet! Bobbachy Bahawder
has seen the dreadful Feringhec, Gahagan Khan Gujputi, the elephant-
lord, whose sword reaps the harvest of death ; there is but one
champion who can wear the papooshes of the elephant-slayer — it
is Bobbachy Bahawder ! "
"You speak truly, Puneeree Muckim, the Bahawder ruminates
on the words of the unbeliever : he is an ostrich, and hatches the
eggs of his thoughts."
" Bekhusm ! on my nose l^e it ! May the young birds, liis
actions, be strong and swift in flight."
" May they digest iron ! " said Puneeree Muckun, who was
evidentlv a wag in his wav.
o
MAJOR GAHAGAN 155
" Oh^io ! " thought I, as suddenly the light flashed upon me.
" It was, then, the famous Bobbachy Bahawder whom I overcame
just now ! and he is the man destined to stand in my slippers, is
he ? " and I was at that very moment standing in his own ! Such
are the chances and changes that fall to the lot of the soldier !
I suppose everybody — everybody who has been in India, at
least — has heard the name of Bobbachy Bahawder : it is derived
from the two Hindustanee words — bobbachy, general ; bahawder,
artilleryman. He had entered into Holkars service in the latter
capacity, and had, by his merit and his undaunted bravery in action,
attained the digiiity of the peacock's feather, which is only gi-antecl
to noblemen of the first class ; he was married, moreover, to one of
Holkar's innumerable daughters ; a match which, according to the
Chronique Scandaleuse, brought more of honour than of pleasure
to the poor Bobbachy. Gallant as he was in the field, it was said
that in the harem he was the veriest craven alive, completely subju-
gated by his ugly and odious wife. In all matters of importance
the late Bahawder had been consulted by his prince, who had, as it
appears (knowing my character, and not caring to do anything rash
in his attack upon so formidable an enemy), sent forward the un-
fortunate Pitan to reconnoitre the fort ; he was to have done yet
more, as I learned from the r.ttendant Puneeree Muckun, A\ho was,
I soon found out, an old favourite with the Bobbachy — doubtless on
account of his honesty and love of repartee.
"The Bahawder's lips are closed," said he at last, trotting up
to me ; "■ has he not a word for old Puneeree Muckun ? "
" Bismillah, mashallah, barikallah," said I ; which means, " My
good friend, what I have seen is not wortli the trouble of relation,
and fills my bosom with the darkest forebodings."
"You could not then see the Gujputi alone, and stab him with
your dagger 1 "
[Here was a pretty conspiracy !] " No, I saw him, but not
alone ; his people were always with him."
" Hurrumzadeh ! it is a pity ; we waited but the sound of your
jogree (whistle), and straightway would have galloped up and seized
upon every man, woman, and child in the fort : however, there are
Init a dozen men in the garrison, and they have not ])rovision for
two days — they must yield ; and then hurrah for the moon-faces !
Llashallah ! I am told the soldiers who first get in are to have
their pick. How my old woman, Rotee Muckun, will be surprised
when I bring home a couple of Feringhee wives, — ha ! ha ! ''
" Fool ! " said I, " be still ! — twelve men in the garrison ! there
are twelve hundred ! Gahagan himself is as good as a thousand
men ; and as for food, I saw with my own eyes five hundred bullocks
156 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
grazing in the courtyard as I entered." This was a bouncer, I con-
fess ; but my object was to deceive Puneerec Muckun, and give him
as high a notion as possible of the capabilities of defence which the
besieged had.
" Pooch, pooch," nuirmured the men ; " it is a wonder of a
fortress : we shall never be able to take it until our guns come up."
There was hope then ! they liad no battering-train. Ere this
arrived, I trusted that Lord Lake would hear of our plight, and
march down to rescue us. Thus occupied in thought and conversa-
tion, we rode on until the advanced sentinel challenged us, when
old Puneeree gave the word, and we passed on into the centre of
Holkar's camp.
It was a strange — a stirring sight! The camp-fires were
lighted ; and round tliem — eating, reposing, talking, looking at the
merry steps of the dancing-girls, or listening to the stories of some
Dhol Baut (or Indian improvisatore) — were thousands of dusky
soldiery. The camels and horses were picketed under the banyan-
trees, on which the ripe mango fruit was growing, and offered them
an excellent food. Towards the spot which the golden fish and
royal purdahs, floating in the wind, designated as the tent of Holkar,
led an immense avenue — of elephants ! the finest street, indeed, I
ever saw. Each of the monstrous animals had a castle on its back,
armed with Blauritanian archers and the celebrated Persian match-
lock-men : it was the feeding time of these royal brutes, and the
grooms were observed bringing immense toff'ungs, or baskets, filled
with pine-apples, plantains, bananas, Indian corn, and cocoa-nuts,
which grow luxuriantly at all seasons of the year. We passed down
this extraordinary avenue — no less than three hundred and eighty-
eiglit tails did I count on each side — each tail appertaining to an
elephant twenty-five feet high — each elephant having a two-storied
castle on its back — each castle containing sleeping and eating rooms
for the twelve men that formed its garrison, and were keeping watch
on the roof — eacli ro(jf bearing a flagstaft" twenty feet long on its
top, the crescent glittering with a thousand gems, and round it the
imperial standard, — each standard of silk velvet and cloth-of-gold,
bearing the well-known device of Holkar, argent an or gules, between
a sinople of the first, a chevron truncated, wavy. I took nine of
these myself in the course of a very short time after, and shall be
happy, when I come to England, to sliow them to any gentleman
who has a curiosity that way. Through this gorgeous scene our
little cavalcade passed, and at last we ari'ived at the quarters occu-
pied by Holkar.
Tliat celebrated chieftain's tents and followers were gathered
round one of the British bungalows which liad escaped the flames^
MAJOR GAHAGAN 157
and wliich he occupied during the siege. Wiien I entered the hirge
room where he sat, I found hiiu in the midst of a council of war ;
his chief generals and viziers seated round liim, cacli smoking his
hookah, as is the common way with these black fellows, before, at,
and after breakfast, dinner, supj)er, and bedtime. There was such
a cloud raised by their smoke you could hardly see a yard before
you — another piece of good-luck for me — as it diminisiied the chances
of my detection. When, with the ordinary ceremonies, the kitmat-
gars and consomahs had explained to the prince that Bobbachy
Bahawder, the right eye of the Sun of the Universe (as the ignorant
heathens called me), had arrived from his mission, Holkar imme-
diately summoned me to the maidaun, or elevated ])latform, on
which he was seated in a luxurious easy-chair, and I, instantly
taking off my slippers, foiling on my knees, and beating my head
against tlie ground ninety-nine times, proceeded, still on my knees,
a hundred and twenty feet through the room, and then up the
twenty steps which led to his maidaun — a silly, painful, and dis-
gusting ceremony, which can only be considered as a relic of
barbarian darkness, which tears the knees and shins to pieces, let
alone the j^antaloons. I recommend anybody who goes to India,
wuth the |)rosi)ect of entering the service of the native rajahs, to
recollect my advice, and have them well wadded.
Well, the right eye of the Sun of the Universe scrambled as
w^ell as he could up the stei)s of the maidaun (on which, in rows,
smoking, as I have said, the musnuds or general officers were
seated), and I arrived witliin speaking distance of Holkar, who
instantly asked me the success of my mission. The im])etuous old
man thereon poured out a multitude of questions : " How many
men are there in the fort % "' said lie ; " how many women % Is it
victualled % have they anununition % " Did you see Gahagan Sahib,
the commander \ did you kill him % "
All these questions Jeswunt Row Holkar ])uffed out with so
many whifi's of tobacco.
Taking a chillum myself, and raising about me such a cloud
that, u})on my honour as a gentleman, no man at three yards'
distance could perceive anything of me excei)t the pillar of smoke
in which I was encompassed, I told Holkar, in Oriental language
of course, the best tale I could with regard to the fort.
" Sir," said I, " to answer your last question first — that dreadful
Guj])uti I have seen — and he is alive : he is eight feet, nearly, in
height ; he can eat a bullock daily (of which he has seven hundred
at present in the compound, and swears that during the siege he
will content himself with only three a week) : he has lost, in battle,
his left eye ; and what is the consequence ? Ram Gunge "
13
158 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
(0 thou-with-the-eye-as-bright-as-moming and-with-beard-as-black-as-
iiight), " Goliah Gujputi — never sleeps ! "
" Ah, you Ghorumsaug (you thief of the world)," said the Prince
Vizier, Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee — " it's joking you are ; " —
and there was a universal buzz through tlie room at the announce-
ment of this bouncer.
" By the hundred and eleven incarnations of Vishnu," said I
solemnly (an oath which no Indian was ever known to break), "I
swear that so it is : so at least he told me, and I have good cause
to know his power. Gujputi is an enchanter : he is leagued with
devils ; he is invulnerable. Look," said I, unsheathing my dagger
— and every eye turned instantly towards me — " thrice did I stab
him with this steel — in the back, once — twice right tlirough the
heart ; but he only laughed me to scorn, and bade me tell Holkar
that the steel was not yet forged which was to inflict an injury
upon him."
I never saw a man in such a rage as Holkar was when I gave
him tliis somewluvt imprudent message.
" Ah, lily-livered rogue ! " shouted he out to me, " milk-blooded
unbeliever ! pale-faced miscreant ! lives he after insulting thy master
in tliy i)resencc 1 In the name of the Prophet, I sjjit on thee, defy
thee, abhor thee, degrade thee ! Take that, thou liar of the
universe ! and that — and that — and that ! "
Such are the frightful excesses of barbaric minds ! everv time
this old man said, "Take that," he flung some article near him at
the head of the undaunted Gahagan — his dagger, his sword, his
carbine, his richly ornamented pistols, his turban covered with
jewels, worth a hundred tliousand croros of rupees — finally, his
hookah, snake mouthi)icce, silver-bell, chillum and all — which went
hissing over my liead, and flattening into a jelly the nose of the
Grand Vizier.
" Yock muzzee ! my nose is ofl:"," said the old man mildly.
" Will you have my life, Holkar 1 it is thine likewise ! " and no
other word of complaint escaped his lips.
Of all these missiles, though a pistol and carbine had gone off
as the ferocious Indian flung them at my head, and the naked
scimitar, fiercely but unadroitly thrown, had lopped off the limbs of
one or two of the nuisnuds as they sat trembling on their omrahs,
yet, strange to say, not a single weapon had hurt me. When the
hubbub ceased, and the unlucky wretches wlio liad been the \ictims
of this fit of rage had been removed, Holkar's good-humour some-
what returned, and he allowed me to continue my account of the
fort ; wliich I did, not taking tlie sliglitest notice of his burst of
impatience : as indeed it would have been the height of impolite-
MAJOR GAHAGAN 159
ness to have done, for such accidents happened many times in
the day.
" It is well that the Bobbachy has returned," snuffled out tlic
poor Grand Vizier, after I had explained to the Council tlie extra-
ordinary means of defence possessed by the garrison. " Your star
is bright, Bahawaler ! for this very night we liad resolved ujiim
an escalade of the fort, and we had sworn to put every one of the
infidel garrison to the edge of the sword."
" But you have no battering train," said I.
" Bah ! we have a couple of ninety-six pounders, quite sufficient
to blow the gates open ; and then, hey for a charge ! " said Loll
Mahommed, a general of cavalry, who was a rival of Bobbachy's,
and contradicted, therefore, every word I said. " In the name of
Juggernaut, wliy wait for the heavy artillery 1 Have we not
swords 1 Have we not hearts 1 Mashallah ! Let cravens stay
with Bobbachy, all true men will follow Loll Mahommed ! Allah-
humdillah, Bismillah, Barikallah '? " * and drawing his scimitar, he
waved it over his head, and shouted out his cry of battle. It was
repeated by many of the otiaer omrahs ; the sound of tlieir cheers
was carried into the cam]), and caught u]) by the men ; the camels
began to cry, the horses to prance and neigh, the eight hundred
elephants set nj) a scream, the trumpeters and drummers clanged
away at their instruments. I never heard such a din before or
after. How I trembled for my little garrison when I heard the
enthusiastic cries of this innumerable host !
There was but one way for it. " Sir," said I, addressing Holkar,
"go out to-night, and you go to certain death. Loll Mahommed
has not seen the fort as I have. Pass the gate if you please, and
for what 1 to fall before the fire of a hundred pieces of artillery ; to
storm another gate, and then another, and then to be blown up, with
Gahagan's garrison in the citadel. Wlio talks of courage? Were
I not in your august presence, star of the faithful, I would croj)
Loll Mahommed's nose from his face, and wear his ears as an
ornament in my own pugree ! Who is there here that knows udt
the difterence between yonder yellow-skinned coward and Gahagan
Khan Guj — I mean Bobbachy Bahawder? I am ready to fight one,
two, three, or twenty of them, at broadsword, small-sword, single-
stick, with fists if you please. By the holy piper, fighting is like
mate and dthrink to Ga — to Bo])bachy, I mane — whoop ! come on,
you diwle, and I'll bate the skin off your ugly bones."
This speech had very nearly proved fatal to me, for, when I am
* The Major has put tho most approved language into the inouth'i of his
Indian characters. Bismillah, Barikallah, and so on, according to tlio novelists,
form the very essence of Eastern conversation. ■
i6o THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
agitated, I involuntarily adopt some of the phraseology peculiar to
my own country ; which is so uueastern, that, had there been any
suspicion as to my real character, detection must indubitably have
ensued. As it was, Holkar perceived nothing, but instantaneously
stopped the dispute. Loll Mahommed, however, evidently suspected
something ; for, as Holkar, with a voice of thunder, shouted out ;
" Tomasha (silence)," Loll sprang forward and gasped out —
" My lord ! my lord ! this is not Bob "
But he could sav no more. " Gag the slave ! " screamed out
Holkar, stamping with fury ; and a turban was instantly twisted
round the poor devil's jaws. " Ho, fiu'oshes ! carry out Loll
Mahommod Khan, give him a hundred dozen on the soles of his
feet, set him ujton a white donkey, and carry him round the camii,
with an inscription before him : * This is the way that Holkar
rewards the talkative.' "
I breathed again ; and ever as I heard each whack of the bamboo
falling on Loll ]\Ialionimcd's feet, I felt peace returning to my mind,
and thanked my stars that I was delivered of this danger.
" Vizier," said Holkar, wlio enjoyed LoU's roars amazingly, " I
owe you a reparation for your nose : kiss the hand of your prince,
Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee ! be from this day forth Zoheir
u Dowlut ! "
The good old man's eyes filled with tears. "I can bear thy
severity, O Prince," said he ; " I cannot bear thy love. Was it
not an honour that your Highness did me just now when you con-
descended to pass over the bridge of your slave's nose ? "
The phrase was by all voices pronounced to be very poetical.
The Vizier retired, cro\\'ned with hLs new honours, to bed. Holkar
was in high good-humour.
" Bobbachy," said he, " thou, too, must pardon mc. A 2'>ropos,
1 have news for thee. Your wife, the incomparable Puttee Rooge ''
(white and red rose), " has arrived in camp."
" INIy WIFE, my lord ! " said I, aghast.
" Our daughter, the light of thine eyes ! Go, my son ; I see
thou art wild with joy. The Princess's tents are set up close by
mine, and I know thou longest to join her."
My wife 1 Here was a complication truly !
CHAPTER V
THE ISSUE OF MY INTERVIEW WITH MY WIFE
1 FOUND Funeeree Miickun, with the rest of my attendants,
waiting at the gate, and they immediately conducted me to
my own tents in the neighbourhood. I have been in many
dangerous predicaments before that time and since, but I don't care
to deny that I felt in the present instance such a throlibing of the
heart as I never have experienced when leading a forlorn hope, or
marching up to a battery.
As soon as I entered the tents a host of menials sprang forward,
some to ease me of my armour, some to offer me refreshments, some
with hookahs, attar of roses (in gTcat quart bottles), and the thou-
sand delicacies of Eastern life. I motioned them away. " I will
wear my armour," said I ; " I shall go forth to-niglit. Carry my
duty to the princess, and say I grieve that to-night I have not the
time to see her. Spread me a couch here, and bring me supjier
here : a jar of Fersian wine well cooled, a lamb stuffed with
pistachio-nuts, a pillaw of a couple of turkeys, a curried kid — any-
thing. Begone ! Give me a pipe ; leave me alone, and tell me
when the meal is ready."
I thought by these means to put off the foir Futtee Rooge, and
hoped to be able to escape without subjecting myself to the
examination of her curious eyes. After smoking for a while, an
attendant came to tell me that my supper was prepared in tlie
inner apartment of the tent (I suppose that the reader, if he be
possessed of the commonest intelligence, knows that the tents of
the Indian grandees are made of the finest Cashmere shawls, and
contain a dozen rooms at least, with carpets, chinmeys, and sash-
windows complete). I entered, I say, into an inner chamber, and
there began with my fingers to devour my meal in the Oriental
fashion, taking, every now and then, a pull from the wine-jar, which
was cooling deliciously in another jar of snow.
I was just in the act of despatching the last morsel of a most
savoury stewed lamb and rice, which had formed my meal, when
I heard a scuflle of feet, a shrill clatter of female voices, and, the
curtain being flung open, in marched a lady accompanied by twelve
i62 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
slaves, with moon faces and slim waists, lovely as the hoiiris in
Paradise.
The lady herself, to do her justice, was as gi-eat a contrast to
her attendants as could possibly be : she was crooked, old, of the
complexion of molasses, and rendered a thousand times more ugly
by the tawdry dress and the blazing jewels with which she was
covered. A line of yellow chalk drawn from her forehead to the
tip of her nose (which was further ornamented by an immense
glittering nose-ring), her eyelids painted briglit red, and a large
dab of the same colour on her chin, showed she was not of the
Mussulman, but the Brahmin faith — and of a very liigh caste : you
could see that by her eyes. My mind was instantaneously made
up as to my line of action.
The male attendants had of course quitted the apartment, as
they lieanl the well-known sound of her voice. It would have
been death to them to have rcmaineil and looked in her face. The
females ranged themselves round their mistress, as she squatted
down opjiosite to me.
" And is this," said she, " a welcome, Khan ! after six
months' absence, for the most \uifortunate and loving Avife in all
the world 1 Is this lamb, glutton ! half so tender as thy spouse 1
Is tliis wine, sot ! half so sweet as her looks 1 "
I saw the storm Avas brewing — her slaves, to whom she tiu-ned,
kept up a kind of chords : —
" Oil, the faithless one ! " cried they, " Oh, the rascal, the
false one, wlio has no eye for beauty, and no heart for love, like
the Khanuni's 1 "
" A lamb is not so sweet as love," said I gravely ; " but a lamb
has a good temper : a wine-cup is not so intoxicating as a woman
— but a wine-cup has no tourfue, Khanum Gee ! " and again I
dipped my nose in the soul-refreshing jar.
The sweet Puttee Rooge was not, however, to be put off by my
repartees ; she and her maidens recommenced their chorus, and
chattered and stormed until I lost all patience.
"Retire, fiiends," said I, "and leave me in peace."
" Stir, on your peril ! " cried tlic Khamun.
So, seeing there was no help for it but violence, I drew out my
pistols, cocked them, and said, " houris ! these pistols contain
each two balls : the daughter of Holkar bears a sacred life for me —
but for you ! — by all the saints of Hindustan, four of ye shall die if
ye stay a moment longer in my presence 1 " Tliis was enough ; the
ladies gave a shriek, and skunied out of the apartment like a covey
of partridges on the wing.
Now, then, was the time for action. My wife, or rathci
MAJOR GAHAGAN 163
Bobbachy'.s Avife, sat still, a little flurried by the unusual ferocity
which her lord had displayed in her presence. I seized her hand,
and, gripping it close, whispered in her ear, to which I i)ut the
other pistol : — " Khanuni, listen and scream not ; the moment
you scream, you die ! " She was completely beaten : she turned
as pale as a woman could in her situation, and said, " Speak,
Bobbachy Bahawder, I am dumb."
"Woman," said I, taking off my helmet, and removing the
chain cape which had covered almost the Avhole of my face — " / am
not thy Imshand — I am the slayer of elephants, the world-renowned
Gahagan ! "
As I said this, and as the long ringlets of red hair fell over my
shoulders (contrasting strangely with my dyed face and beard), I
formed one of the finest pictures that can possibly be conceived, and
I recommend it as a subject to Mr. Heath, for the next " Book of
Beauty."
" Wretch ! " said she, " what wouldst thou % "
" You black-faced fiend," said I, " raise but your voice, and you
are dead ! "
" And afterwards," said she, " do you suppose that you can
escape? The torments of hell arc not so terrible as the tortures
that Holkar will invent fn- thee."
" Tortures, madam % " answered I, coolly. " Fiddlesticks ! You
will neither betray me, nor will I be put to the torture : on the
contrary, you will give me your best jewels and facilitate my escape
to the fort. Don't grind your teeth and swear at me. Listen,
madam : you know this dress and these arms ; — they are the arms
of your husband, Bobbachy Bahawder — my jyrisoner. He now lies
in yonder fort, and if I do not return before daylight, at sunrise he
dies: and then, when they send his corpse back to Holkar, what
will you, his ividow, do 1 "
" Oh ! " said she, shuddering, "spare me, spare me ! "
" I'll tell you what you Avill do. You will have the pleasure
of dyint' along with him — of beimy roasted, madam : an agonising
death, from which your father cannot save you, to which he will be
the first man to condemn and conduct you. Ha ! I see we under-
stand each other, and you will give me over the cash-box and jewels."
And so saying I threw myself back with the calmest air imaginable,
fiinging the pistols over to her. " Light me a pipe, my love," said
I, "and then go and hand me over the dollars: do you hearT'
You see I had her in my power — up a tree, as the Americans say,
and she very humbly lighted my pipe for me, and then departed for
the goods I spoke about.
What a thing is luck ! If Loll Mahom'med had not been made
164 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
to take that ride round the camp, I should infallibly have been
lost.
My supper, my quarrel with the princess, and my pipe after-
wards, had occupied a couple of hours of my time. The princess
returned from her quest, and brought with her the box, containing
valuables to the amount of about three millions sterling. (I was
cheated of them afterwards, but have the box still, a plain deal
one.) I was just about to take my departure, when a tremendous
knocking, shouting, and screaming was heard at the entrance of
the tent. It was Holkar himself, accompanied by that cursed Loll
Mahommed, who, after his punishment, found his master restored
to good-humour, and had communicated to him his firm con^-iction
that I was an impostor.
" Ho, Begum ! "' shouted he, in the ante-room (for he and his
people could not enter the women's a{)artments), " speak, my
daughter ! is your husband returned 1 ''
" Speak, madam," said I, " or remember the roasting."
" He is, papa,"' said the Begiun.
" Are you sure 1 Ho ! ho ! ho ! " (the old ruffian was laughing
outside) — " are you sure it is ? — Ha ! aha ! — he-e-e ! "
" Indeed it is he, and no other. I pray you, father, to go, and
to pass no more such shameless jests on your daughter. Have I
ever seen the face of any other man 1 " And hereat she began to
weep a.s if her heart would break — the deceitful minx !
Holkar's laugh w;is insti\ntly turned to fury, " Oh, you liar
and eternal thief ! " said he, turning round (as I presume, for I
could only hear) to Loll Mahommed, "to make yoiu- prince eat
sucli miinstrous dirt as this ! Furoshos, .seize this man. I dismiss
him from my service, I degrade him from his rank, I api)ropriate to
myself all his i)roperty : and hark ye, furoshes, give him a hun-
dred DOZEN MORE ! "
Again I heard the whacks of the bamboos, and peace flowed into
my soul,
• • • • • . • •
Just as morn begnn to break, two figtires were seen to approach
the Uttle fortress of Futtytrhur : one was a woman wrapped closely
in a veil ; the otlier a warrior, remarkable for the size and manly
beauty of his form, who carried in his hand a deal box of con-
siderable size. The warrior at the gate gave the word and was
admitted ; the woman returned slowly to the Indian camp. Her
name was Puttee Rooge ; his was —
G, O'G, G., M.H.E.I.C.S., CI.H.A
CHAPTER VI
FAMINE IN THE GARRISON
THUS my dangers for the iiiglit being overcome, I hastened
with my precious box into my own apartment, which com-
mmiicated with another, where I had left my prisoner, with
a guard to report if he sliould recover, and to prevent liis escape.
My servant, Ghorumsaug, was one of the guard. I called him, and
the fellow came, looking very much confused and frighteneil, as it
seemed, at my ai)|)earance.
"Why, Ghorumsaug," said I, "Avhat makes t)iee look so jjale,
fellow?" (He was as white as a sheet.) "It is thy master, dost
thou not remember him ? " The man had seen me dress myself in
the Pitan's clothes, but was not present when I had blacked my face
and beard in the manner I have described.
" Bramah, Vishnu, and Mahomet ! " cried the faithful fellow,
" and do I see my dear master disguised in this way ? For Heaven's
sake let me rid you of this odious black paint ; for what will the
ladies say in the ballroom if the l)eautiful Feringhee should appear
amongst them with his roses turned into coal 1 "
I am still one of the finest men in Europe, and at the time of
w^hich I write, when only two-and-twenty, I confess I was a little
vain of my personal appearance, and not very willing to appear
before my dear Belinda disguised like a blackamoor. I allowed
Ghorumsaug to divest me of the heathenish armour and habiliments
which I wore ; and having, with a world of scrubl)ing and trouble,
divested my face and beard of their Ijlack tinge, I put on my own
becoming uniform, and hastened to wait on the ladies ; hastened, I
say, — although delayed would have been the ]")etter word, for the
operation of bleaching lasted at least two hours.
" How is the prisoner, Ghorumsaug 1 " said I, before leaving my
apartment.
"He has recovered from the blow which the Lion dealt him: two
men and myself watch over him ; and Macgillicuddy Sahib (thesecoud in
command) has just been the rounds, and has seen that all was secure."
I bade Ghorumsaug lielp me to i)ut away my chest of treasure
(my exultation in taking it was so gi-eat that I could not help
166 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
informing him of its contents) ; and this done, I despatched him to
his post near the prisoner, while I i)rcpared to sally forth and pay
my respects to the fair creatures mider my protection. " What
good after all have I done," thought I to myself, " in this expedition
which I had so rashly undertaken?" I had seen the renowned
Holkar; I had been in the heart of Ins camp; I knew the dis-
position of his troops, that there were eleven thousand of them, and
that he only waited for his guns to make a regidar attack on the
fort. I had seen Puttee Rooge; I had robbed her (I say robbed
her, and I don't care Avhat the reader or any other man may think
of the act) of a deal bi)x, containing jewels to the amount of three
millions sterling, the property of herself and husband.
Tliree millions in inoney and jewels ! And what the deuce were
money and jewels to me or to my poor garrison ? Could my adorable
Miss Bulcher eat a fricassee of diamonds, or, Cleopatra-like, melt
down pearls to lier tea 1 Could I, careless as I am about food, with
a stomach that would digest anything — (once, in Spain, I ate the leg
of a horse during a famine, and was so eager to swallow this morsel
that I bolted the shoe, as well as the hoof, and never felt the slightest
inconvenience from either) — could I, I say, expect to live long and
well upon a ragout of rupees, or a dish of stewed emeralds and
rubies? Witli all tlie wealth of Croesus before me I felt melancholy;
and would have paid cheerfully its weight in carats for a good honest
round of boiled beef. Wealth, wealth, what art thou? What is gold?
— Soft metal. What are diamonds? — Shining tinsel. The great
wealth-winners, the only fame-achievers, the sole objects worthy of
a soldier's consideration, arc beefsteaks, guni)owder, and cold iron.
The two latter means of competency we possessed ; I had in my
own apartments a small store of gunpowder (keeping it under my
own bed, with a candle burning for fear of accidents) ; I had 14
pieces of artillery (4 long 48's and 4 carronades, 5 howitzers, and a
long brass mortar, for grai)e, Avhich I had taken myself at the battle
of Assaye), and muskets for ten times my force. My garrison, as
I have told the reader in a jirevious number, consisted of 40 men,
two chajilains, and a surgeon ; add to these my guests, 83 in
number, of whom nine only were gentlemen (in tights, powder,
pigtails, and silk stockings, who liad come out merely for a dance,
and found themselves in for a siege). Such were our munbers : —
Troops and artillerymen 40
Ladies 74
Other non-combatants 11
Major-General O'G. Gahagan . . 1,000
1,125
I
MAJOR GAHAGAN 167
I count myself good for a thousand, for so I was regularly rated
in the army : witli this great benefit to it, that I only consumed as
much as an ordinary mortal. We were then, as far as the victuals
went, 126 mouths; as combatants we numbered, 1,040 gallant men,
with 12 guns and a fort, against Holkar and his 12,000. No such
alarming odds, if
If I — ay, there was the rub — ?/ we had shot, as well as powder
for our guns ; if we had not only men but meat. Of the former
commodity we had only three rounds for each piece. Of the latter,
upon my sacred honour, to feed 126 souls, we had but
Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham.
Fourteen Ijottles of ginger-beer.
Of soda-water, four ditto.
'Two bottles of fine Spanish olives.
Raspberry cream — tlie remainder of two dishes.
Seven macaroons, lying in tlje puddle of a demolished trifle.
Half a drum of best Turkev figs.
Some bits of broken bread ; two Dutch cheeses (whole) ; the
crust of an old Stilton ; and about an ounce of almonds
and raisins.
Three ham-sandwiches, and a pot of currant-jelly, and 197
bottles of brandy, rum, madeira, jjale ale (my private
stock) ; a couple of hard eggs for a salad, and a flask of
Florence oil.
This was the provision for tlie whole garrison ! The men after
supper had seized upon the relics of the repast, as they were carried
ott" from the table ; and these were the miserable remnants I found
and counted on my return ; taking good care to lock the door of
the supper-room, and treasure what little sustenance still remained
in it.
When I appeared in the saloon, now lighted up by the morning
sun, I not only caused a sensation myself, but felt one in my own
bosom which was of the most painful description. Oh, my reader I
may you never behold such a sight as that which presented itself :
eighty-three men and women in ball-dresses ; the former with their
lank powdered locks streaming over their faces; the latter with
faded flowers, uncurled wigs, smudged rouge, blear eyes, draggling
feathers, rumpled satins — each more desperately melancholy and
hideous than the other — each, except my beloved Belinda Bulcher,
whose raven ringlets never having been in curl, could of course never
go oxit of curl ; whose cheek, pale as the lily, could, as it may
naturally be supposed, grow no paler; whose neck and beauteous
i68 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
arms, dazzling as alabaster, needed no pearl-powder, and therefore,
as I need not state, did not suffer because the pearl-powder had
come off. Joy (deft link-boy !) lit his lamps in each of her eyes as
I entered. As if I had been her sun, her spring, lo ! blushing roses
mantled in her cheek ! Seventy-three ladies, as I entered, opened
their fire upon me, and stunned me with cross-questions regarding
my adventures in the camp — she, as she saw me, gave a faint
scream (the sweetest, sure, that ever gurgled tlirough the throat of
a woman !), then started up — then made as if she would sit down — •
then moved backwards — then tottered forwards — then tumbled into
my — -Psha ! why recall, why attempt to describe that delicious —
that passionate greeting of two young hearts ? ^^'hat was the
surrounding crowd to ^ls ? What cared we for the sneers of the
men, the titters of the jealous women, the shrill "Upon my word ! "
of the elder Miss Bulcher, and the loud expostulations of Belinda's
mamma? The brave girl loved me, and wept in my arms.
" Goliah ! my Goliali ! " said she, " my brave, my beautiful, thou
art returned, and hope comes back with thee. Oh ! who can tell
the anguish of my soul, during this dreadful, dreadful niglit % "
Other similar ejaculations of love and joy she uttered ; and if I had
l)erilled life in her service, if I did believe that hope of escape there
was none, so exquisite was the moment of our meeting, that I forgot
all else in this overwhelming joy !
[The Major's description of this meeting, which lasted at the
very most not ten seconds, occupies thirteen pages of writing. We
have been compelled to dock off twelve and a lialf ; for the whole
passage, though highly creditable to his feelings, might possibly be
tedious to the reader.]
• ••«•••
As I said, the ladies and gentlemen were inclined to sneer, and
were giggling audibly, I led the dear girl to a chair, and, scowling
round with a tremendous fierceness, wliich those who know me know
I can sometimes put on, I shouted out, " Hark ye ! men and women
— I am this lady's truest knight — lier husbanil I hoi)e one day to
be. I am commander, too, in tliis fort — tlie enemy is without it ;
another word of mockery — another glance of scorn — and, by Heaven,
I will hurl every man and woman from the battlements, a prey to
the ruffianly Holkar ! " This quieted them. I am a man of my
word, and none of them stirred or looked disrespectfully from that
moment.
It was now my turn to make them look foolish. Mrs. Vande-
gobbleschroy (whose unfailing appetite is pretty well known to every
MAJOR GAHAGAN 169
person who has been in India) cried, " Well, Captain Gahagan, your
ball has been so jjleasant, and the snjjper was despatched so long
ago, that myself and the ladies would be very glad of a little break-
fast." And JMrs, Van. giggled as if she had made a very witty antl
reasonable speech. " Oh ! breakfast, breakfast, by all means,"
said tlie rest ; "we really are dying for a warm cup of tea."
" Is it bohay tay or souchong tay that you'd like, ladies 1 "
says I.
"Nonsense, you silly man; any tea you like," said flxt Mrs.
Van.
"What do you say, then, to some prime gunpoivder ? ''^ Of
course they said it was the very thing.
" And do you like hot rowls or cowld — muffins or crumpets —
fresh butter or salt ? And you, gentlemen, what do you say to
some ilegant divvled-kidneys for yourselves, and just a trifle of
grilled turkeys, and a couple of hundthred new-laid eggs for the
ladies?"
"Pooh, pooh! be it as you will, my dear fello^\'," answered
they all.
" But stop," says I. " ladies, ladies ! gentlemen, gentle-
men ! that you should ever have come to the quarters of Goliah
Gahagan, and he been without "
""what 1 " said they, in a breath.
" Alas ! alas ! I have not got a single stick of chocolate in the
whole house."
" Well, well, we can do without it."
" Or a single pound of coftee."
" Never mind ; let that pass too." (Mrs. Van. and the rest
were beginning to look alarmed.)
" And about the kidneys — now I remember, the black divvies
outside the fort have seized upon all the sheep ; and how are
we to have kidneys without them'?" (Here there was a slight
— — !)
" And with regard to the milk and crame, it may l)e remarked
that the cows are likewise in pawn, and not a single droi) can be
had for money or love : but we can beat up eggs, you know, in the
tay, which will be just as good."
" Oh ! just as good."
"Only the divvle's in the luck, there's not a fresh egg to be
had — no, nor a fresh chicken," continued I, " nor a stale one either ;
not a tayspoonful of souchong, nor a thimbleful of bohny : nor the
laste taste in life of butther, salt or fresh ; nor hot rowls or cowld ! "
" In the name of Heaven ! " said Mrs. Van, growing very pale,
" what is there, then ? "
lyo THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'll tell you what there is now,''
shouted I. "There's
" Two drumsticks of fowls, and a bone of ham,
Fourteen bottles of ginger-beer," &c. &c. &c.
And I went through the whole list of eatables as before, ending
with the ham-sandwiches and the pot of jelly.
" Law ! Mr. Gahagan," said Mrs. Colonel Vandegobbleschroy,
"give me the ham-sand-niches — I must manage to breakfast off
them."
And you should have heard the pretty to-do there was at this
modest proposition ! Of course I did not accede to it — why should
LI I was tlie commander of the fort, and intended to keep these
three very sandwiches for the use of myself and my dear Belinda.
"Ladies," said I, "there are in tliis fort one hundred and twenty-
six souls, and this is all the food which is to last us during the siege.
Meat there is none — of drink there is a tolerable quantity ; and
at one o'clock punctually, a glass of wine and one olive shall be
served out to each woman : the men will receive two glasses, and
an olive and a fig — and this must be your food during the siege.
Lord Lake cannot be absent more than three days ; and if he be —
why, still there is a chance — why do I say a chance? — a certainty
of escaping from the hands of these ruffians."
" Oh, name it, name it, dear Cai)tain Gahagan ! " screeched the
whole covey at a breath.
" It lies," answered I, " in the 2^owder magazine. I will blow
this fort, and all it contains, to atoms, ere it becomes the prey of
Holkar."
The women, at this, raised a squeal that might have been heard
in Holkar's camp, and fointed in difierent directions ; but my dear
Belinda whispered in my car, "Well done, thou noble knight.'
bravely said, my heart's Goliah ! " I felt I was right : I could have
blo-\Mi her up twenty times for the luxury of that single moment.'
"And now, ladies," said I, "I nmst leave you. The two chaplains
will remain with you to administer professional consolation — the
other gentlemen will follow me upstairs to the ramparts, where 1
shall find plenty of work for them."
CHAPTER VII
THE ESCAPE
LOTH as they were, these gentlemen had nothing for it but to'
obey, and they accordingly followed me to the ramparts, where
-' I proceeded to review my men. The fort, in my al)«ence, had
been left in command of Lieutenant Macgillicuddy, a countryman of
my own (with whom, as may be seen in an early chai)ter of my
memoirs, I had an aftair of honour) ; and the prisoner Bolibachy
Bahawder, whom I had only stunned, never wishing to kill him,
had been left in charge of that officer. Three of the garrison (one
of them a man of the Ahmednuggar Irregulars, my own body-
servant, Ghorumsaug above named) were appointed to watch the
captive by turns, and never leave him out of tlieir sight. The
lieutenant was instructed to look to them and to their })risoner;
and as Bol)bachy was severely injured by the blow which I had
given him, and was, moreover, bound hand and foot, and gagged
smartly with cords, I considered myself sure of his person.
Macgillicuddy diil not make his appearance when I reviewed my
little force, and the tlu'ce havildars were likewise absent : this did
not surprise me, as I had told them not to leave their prisoner;
but desirous to speak with the lieutenant, I despatched a messenger
to him, and ordered him to appear immediately.
The messenger came back ; he was looking ghastly jiale : he
whispered some information into my ear, which instantly caused me
to hasten to the apartments where I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder
to be confined.
The men had fled ; — Bobbachy had fled ; and in his place, foncy
my astonishment when I found — with a rope cutting his naturally
wide mouth almost into his ears — with a dreadful sabre-cut across
his forehead — with his legs tied over his head, and his arms tied
between his legs — my unhappy, my attached friend — Mortimer
Macgillicuddy !
He had been in this position for about three hours— it was the
very position in which I had caused Bobbachy Bahawder to be
placecl — an attitude uncomfortable, it is true, but one which renders
escape impossible, unless treason aid the prisoner.
172 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
I restored the lieutenant to his natural erect position ; I poured
half a bottle of whisky down the immensely enlarged orifice of his
mouth ; and when he had been released, he informed me of the
circumstances that had taken place.
Fool that I was ! idiot ! — upon my return to the fort, to have
been anxious about my personal appearance, and to have spent
a couple of hours in removing the artificial blackening from my
beard and complexion, instead of going to examine my prisoner—
when his escape would have been prevented. foppery, foppery !
— it was that cursed love of personal appearance which had led me
to forget my duty to my general, my country, my monarch, and my
own honour !
Tims it was that the escape took place : — My own fellow of the
Irregulars, wliom I had summoned to dress me, performed the
operation to my satisfaction, invested me with the elegant uniform
of my corps, and removed the Pitan's disguise, which I had taken
from the back of the prostrate Bo])bachy Bahawder. What did the
rogue do next ? — Why, he carried back the dress to the Bobbachy —
he put it, once more, on its right owner ; he and his infernal black
companions (who had been won over by the Bobbachy with promises
of enormous reward) gagged Macgillicuddy, who was going the
rounds, and tlien marched with the Indian coolly up to the outer
gate and gave the word. The sentinel, thinking it was myself, who
had first come in, and was as likely to go out again — (indeed my
rascally valet said that Gahagan Sahib was about to go out witli
liiui and his two companions to reconnoitre) — opened the gates, and
off they went !
Tliis accounted for the confusion of my valet when I entered ! —
and for the seounilrel's speech, that the lieutenant had ,/;/.«(< been the
rounds; — he had, poor fellow, and had been seized and bound in
this cruel way. The three men, with their liberated prisoner, liad
just been on the point of escape, Avhen my arrival disconcerted them :
I had changed the guard at the gate (whom they had won over like-
wise); and yet, although they had overcome poor Mac, and although
they were ready for the start, they had positively no means for
effecting their escape, until I was ass enough to put means in their
way Fool ! fool ! thrice-besotted fool that I was, to think of ray
own silly person when I should have been occupied solely with my
public duty.
From Macgillicuddy's incoherent accounts, as he was gasping
from the effects of the gag and the whisky he had taken to revive
him, and from my own subsequent observations, I learned this sad
story. A sudden and painful thought struck me — my precious
box ! — I rushed back — I found that box — I have it still Opening
MAJOR GAHAGAN 173
it, there, where I had left ingots, sacks of bright tomauns, kopeks
and rupees, strings of diamonds as big as ducks' eggs, rubies as red
as the lips of my Belinda, countless strings of pearls, amethysts,
emeralds, piles upon piles of bank-notes — I found — a piece of paper !
with a few lines in the Sanscrit language, which are thus, word for
word, translated : —
" EPIGRAM.
"{On disappointing a certain Major.)
" The conquering lion return'd with his prey.
And safe in his cavern he set it ;
The sly little fox stole the booty away,
And, as he escaped, to the lion did say,
' Aha ! don't you wish you may got it ? ' "
Confusion ! Oh, how my blood boiled as I read these cutting
lines. I stamped, — I swore, — I don't know to what insane lengths
my rage might liave carried me, had not at this moment a soldier
rushed in, screaming, " The enemy, the enemy ! "
CHAPTER VIII
THE CAPTIVE
IT yas high time, indeed, that I should make my appearance.
Waving my sword with one hand and seizing my telescope with
the otlier, I at once frightened and examined tlie enemy. Well
they knew when they saw that flamingo-i)lunie Hoating in t'lie breeze
— tliat awful figure standing in the breach — that waving war-sword
sparkling in the sky— well, I say, they knew the name of the
humble individual who owned the sword, the plume, and the figure.
The ruffians were mustered in front, the cavalry behind. The flags
were flying, the drums, gongs, tambourines, violoncellos, and other
instruments of Eastern music, raised in the air a strange barbaric
melody; the ofticers (yatabals), mounteil on white dromedaries,
were seen galloping to and fro, carrying to the atlvancing hosts
the orders of Holkar.
You see that two sides of the fort of Futtyghur (rising as it
does on a rock that is almost perpendicular) are defended by the
Burrumpooter river, two hundred feet deep at this point, and a
thousand yards wide, so that I had no fear about them attacking
me in tluit tpiarter.- My guns, therefore (with tlieir six-and-thirty
miserable charges of shot), were dragged round to the point at which
I conceived Holkar would be most likely to attack me. I wivs in a
situation that I did not dar':' to fire, except at such times as I could
kill a hundred men by a single discharge of a camion ; so the attack-
ing party marched and marched, very strongly, about a mile and a
half off, the elephants marching without receiving the slightest
damage from us, until they had come to within four hundred yards
of our walls (the rogues knew all the secrets of our weakness, through
the betrayal of the dastardly Ghorumsaug, or they never would have
ventured so near). At tliat distance— it was about the s])ot where
the Futtyghur hill ])egan gi-adually to rise— the invading force
stopped ; the elephants drew up in a line, at right angles with our
wall (the fools ! they thought they should expose themselves too
much by taking a position j^arallel to it) ; the cavalry halted too,
and — after the deuce's own flourish of trumpets and banging of
gongs, to be sure, — somebody, in a flame-coloured satin dress, with
MAJOR GAHAGAN
175
an immeuse jewel blazing in his pugree (that looked through my
telescope like a small but very bright planet), got up from the back
of one of tlie very biggest elephants, and began a speccli.
The elephants were, as I said, in a line formed with admirable
precision, about tliree hundred of them. The following little diagram
will explain matters :■ —
E
F
E is the line of elephants. F is the wall of the fort. G a gun in
the fort. Xfnv tlie reader will see what I did.
The elephants were standing, their trunks waggling to and fro
gracefully before them ; and I, with superhuman skill and activity,
brouglit the gun G (a devilish long brass gun) to boar upon them.
I pointed it myself; bang ! it went, and what was the consequence 1
Why, this :— '
G
F
F is the fort, as before. G is the gun, as before. E, the elephants,
as we have previously seen them. What then is x ^ x is the
line taken hy the ball Jived from G, which took off one hundred
and thirty-four eleiyhants' trunks, and only spent itself in the tusk
of a very old animal, that stood the hundred and thirty-fifth !
I say that such a shot was never fired before or since : tliat a
gim was never pointed in such a way. Suppose I had been a
common man, and contented myself Avith firing bang at the^ head
of the first animal? An ass v^ould have done it, prided himself
had he hit his mark, and what would have been the consequence ?
Why, that the ball might have kUled two elepliants and wounded
a third ; but here, probably, it would have stopped, an<l done no
further mischief. The trunk was the place at which to aim ; there
are no bones there ; and away, consequently, went the bullet, shear-
176 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
ing, as I have said, through one hundred and thirty-five probosces.
Heavens ! what a howl tliere was when the shot took eftect ! What
a sudden stoppage of Holkar's speech ! What a hideous snorting of
elephants ! What a rush backwards was made by the whole army,
as if some demon was pursuing them !
Away they went. No sooner did I see them in full retreat,
than, rushing forward myself, I shouted to my men, " My friends,
yonder lies your dinner ! " We flung open the gates — we tore down
to tlie spot where the elephants had fallen : seven of them were
killed ; and of those that escaped to die of their hideous woimds
elsewhere, most had left their trunks behind them. A great
quantity of them we seized ; and I myself, cutting up with my
scimitar a couple of the fallen animals, as a butcher would a calf,
motioned to the men to take the pieces back to the fort, where
barbacued elephant was served round for dinner, instead of the
• miserable allowance of an olive and a glass of wine, wliich I had
promised to my female friends in ray speech to them. The animal
reserved for the ladies was a young white one — the fattest and
tenderest I ever ate in my life : they are very fair eating, but the
flesh has an India-rubber flavour, wliich, imtil one is accustomed to
it. is unpalatable.
It was well that I had obtained this supply, for, during my
absence on the M^orks, Mrs. Vandegobbleitchroy and one or two others
had forced their way into the supper-room, and devom'ed every
morsel of tlie garrison larder, with the exception of the cheeses, the
olives, and the Avine, which were locked up in my own apartment,
before which stood a sentinel. Disgusting IMrs. Van. ! When I
heard of her gluttony, I Imd almost a mind to eat her. However,
we made a very comfortable dinner off the barbacued steaks, and
when everybody had done, haxl the comfort of knowing that there
was enough for one meal more.
The next day, Jis I expected, the enemy attacked us in great
force, attempting to escalade the fort ; but by the help of my guns,
and my good sword, by the distinguished bravery of Lieutenant
Macgillicuddy and the rest of the garrison, we beat this attack off
completely, the enemy sustaining a loss of seven hundred men. We
were victorious ; but when another attack was made, what were we
to do % We had still a little powder left, but had fired off aU the
shot, stones, iron bars, &c., in the garrison ! On tliis day, too, we
devoured the last morsel of our food : I shall never forget Mrs.
Vandegobbleschroy's despairing look, a.s I saw her sitting alone,
attempting to make some impression on the little white elephant's
roasted tail.
The third day the attack was repeated. The resources of genius
MAJOR GAHAGAN 177
are never at an end. Yesterday I had no ammunition ; to-day 1
discovered charges sufficient for two guns, and two swivels, wliicli
were much longer, but had bores nf about blunderbuss size.
This time iny friend Loll Mahommcd, who had received, as the
reader may remember, such a bastinadoing f(ir my sake, headed the
attack. The poor wretch could not walk, but he was carried in an
open palanquin, and came on waving his sword, and cursing horribly
in his Hindustan jargon. Behind him came troops of matchlock-
men, who i)icked off every one of our men who showed their
noses above the ramparts : and a great host of blackamorus with
scaling-ladders, bundles to fill the ditch, fascines, gabions, cuh^'rins,
demilunes, counterscarps, and all the other appurtenances of offen-
sive war.
On they came; my guns and men were ready for them. You
\\dll ask how my pieces were loaded"? I answer, that though my
garrison were without food, I knew my duty as an officer, and had
put the two Dutch cheeses into the ttuo gmis, and had crammed the
contents of a bottle of olives into each swivel.
They advanced, — whish ! went one of the Dutch cheeses, — bang I
went the other. Alas ! they did little execution. In their first con-
tact with an opposing body, they certainly floored it ; but they
became at once like so much AVelsh-ratbit, and did no execution
beyond the man whom they struck doAvn.
" Hogree, pogree^ wongrec-fum (praise to Allah and the forty-
nine Imaums !) " shouted out the ferocious Loll Mahunnncd when he
saw the failure of my shot. " Onward, sons of the Prophet ! the
infidel has no more ammunition. A hundred thousand lakhs of
rupees to the man who brings me Gahagan's head ! "
His men set up a shout, and rushed forward — he, to do him
justice, was at the very head, urging on his own palanquin-bearers,
and poking them with the tip of his scimitar. They came panting
up the hill : I Avas black with rage, but it was the cold concentrated
rage of despair. " Macgillicuddy," said I, calling that faithftd officer,
"you know where the barrels of powder are"?" He did. "You
know the use to make of them 1 " He did. He grasped my hand.
"Goliah," said he, "farewell! I swear that the fort shall be in
atoms, as soon as yonder unbelievers have carried it. Oh, my poor
mother ! " added the gallant youth, as sighing, yet fearless, he retired
to his post.
I gave one thought to my blessed, my beautiful Belinda, and
then, stepping into the front, took down one of the SAvivcls ; — a
shower of matchlock balls came whizzing round my head. I did
not heed them.
I took the swivel, and aimed coolly. Loll Maliommed, his
178 THE TEEMEXDOUS ADVENTURES OF
palauquiu, and liis men, were now not above two hundred yards from
the fort. Loll was straight before me, gesticulating and shouting to
his men. I fired — bang ! ! !
I aimed so true, that one hundred and seventeen best Spanish
olives were lodged in a Inmp in the face of the unhappy Loll
Mahommed. The wretch, uttering a yell the most hideous and
unearthly I ever heard, fell back dead ; the frightened bearers flung
down the palanquin and ran — the whole host ran as one man : their
screams might be heard for leagues. "Tomasha, tomasha," they
cried, "it is enchantment I " Away they fled, and the victory a
third time was ours. Soon as the fight was done, I flew back to my
Belinda. We hail eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, but I forgot
hunger in the thought of once more beholding her I
The sweet soul turned towards me with a sickly smile as I
entered, and almost fointed in my arms ; but alas ! it was not love
which caused in her bosom an emotion so strong — it was hunger !
" Oh ! my Goliah," whispered she, " for three days I have not tasted
food — I could not eat that horrid elephant yesterday; but now — oh!
Heaven ! " She could say no more, but sank almost lifeless on
my shoulder. I administered to her a trifling dram of rum, which
revived her for a moment, and then rushed downstairs, determined
that if it were a piece of my own leg, she shouhl still have something
to satisfy her himger. Luckily I remembered that three or four
elephants were still lying in the field, having been killed by us in
the first action two days before. Necessity, thought I, has no law ;
my adorable girl must eat elephant, until she can get something
better.
I nished into the court where the men were, for the most part,
assembled. " Men," said I, " our larder is empty ; we must fill it
ixs we did the day before yesterday. Who will follow Gagahan on
a foraging party ? " I expected that, as on former occasions, every
man would ofter to accompany me.
To my astonishment, not a soul moved — a murmur arose among
the troops ; and at last one of the oldest and bravest came forward.
" Captain,"' he said, " it is of no use ; we cannot feed upon
elephants for ever ; we have not a grain of powder left, and must
give up the fort wlien the attack is made to-morrow. "\\'e may as
well be prisoners now as then, and we won't go elephant-hunting
any more."
" Rufiian ! " I said, " he who first talks of surrender, dies ! " and
I cut him down. "Is there any one else who wishes to speak?"
No one stirred.
" Cowards ! miserable cowards '. " shouted I ; " what, you dare
not move for fear of death at the hands of those wretches who even
MAJOR GAHAGAN i
9
now fled before your arms — what, do I say your arms? — before
mi7ie ! — alone I did it ; and as alone I routed the foe, alone I will
victual tlie fortress I Ho ! open the gate ! '"'
I rushed out; not a single man would follow. The bodies of
the elepliants that we had killed still lay on the ground where they
had fallen, about fom- hundred yards from the fort. I descended
calmly the hill, a very steep one, and coming to the spot, took my
pick of the animals, choosing a tolerably small and plump one, of
about thirteen feet high, which the Aniltures liad respected. I
threw this animal over my shoulders, and made for the fort.
As I marched ui) the acclivity, whizz — piff — whirr ! came the
balls over my head ; and pitter-patter, pitter-patter ! they fell on
the body of the elephant like drops of rain. The enemy were
behind me ; I knew it, and quickened my pace. I heard the gallop
of their liorse : they came nearer, nearer ; I was within a hundred
yards of the fort — seventy — fifty! I strained every nerve; I ])anted
with the superhuman exertion — I ran — could a man run very fast
with such a tremendous weight on his shoulders ?
Up came the enemy : fifty horsemen were shouting and scream-
ing at my tail. Heaven ! five yards more — one moment — and I
am saved. It Ls done — I strain the last strain — I make the last
step — I fling forward my precious burden into the gate opened wide
to receive me and it, and — I fall ! The gate thunders to, and I am
left on the outside .' Fifty knives are gleaming before my bloodshot
eyes — fifty black hands are at my throat, when a voice exclaims,
" Stop ! — kill him not, it is Gujputi ! " A film came over my eyes
— exhausted nature would bear no more.
CHAPTER IX
SURPRISE OF FUTTYGHUR
WHEN I awoke from the trance into which I had fallen, 1
found myself in a bath, surrounded by innumerable black
faces, and a Hindoo ])othukoor (whence our word apothe-
cary) feeling my ]nilse and looking at me with an air of sagacity.
" Where am I ? " I exclaimed, looking round and examining the
strange faces, and the strange apartment which met my view.
" Beklmsm ! " said the apothecary. " Silence! Gahagan Sahib is in
the hands of those who know his valour, and wiU save his life."
"Know my valour, slave 1 Of course you do," said I; "but
the fort— the garrison — the elephant— Belinda, my love— my darling
— Macgillicuddy — the scoundrelly mutineers — the deal bo "
I could say no more ; the painful recollections pressed so heavily
upon my poor shattered mind antl frame, that both failed once more.
I fainted again, ami I kriow not how long I lay insensible.
Again, however, I came to my senses : the potliukoor applied
restoratives, and after a slumber of some hours I awoke, nmch
refreshed. I had no wound ; my repeated swoons had been brought
on (as indeed well they might) liy my gigantic efforts in carrying
the elepiiant up a steep hill a quarter of a mile in length. Walk-
ing, the task is ])ad enough : but running, it is the deuce ; and I
would recommend any of my readers who may be disposed to try
and carry a dead elephant, never, on any account, to go a pace of
more than live miles an hour.
Scarcely was I awake, when I heard the clash of arms at my
door (plainly indicating that sentinels were posted there), and a
single old gentleman, richly habited, entered the room. Did my
eyes deceive me ? I had surely seen him before. No — yes — no —
yes — it was he : the snowy white beard, the mild eyes, the nose
flattened to a jelly, and level with the rest of the venerable face,
proclaimed him at once to be — Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee,
Holkar's Prime Vizier; whose nose, as the reader may recollect,
his Highness had flattened with his kaleawn during my interview
with him in the Pitan's disguise. I now knew my fate but too
well — I was in the hands of Holkar.
MAJOR GAHAGAN i8i
Saadut Alee Beg Bimbukchee slowly advanced towards me, and
with a mild air of benevolence whi(,-h distinguished that excellent
man (he was turn to jiicres by wild horses the year after, on account
of a difterence with Holkar), he came to my bedside, and, taking
gently my hand, said, "Life and death, my son, are not ours.
Strength is deceitful, valour is unavailing, fame is only wind — the
nightingale sings of the rose all night — where is the rose in the
morning 1 Booch, booch ! it is withered by the frost. The rose
makes remarks regarding the nightingale, and wdiere is that de- •
lightful song-bird? Pena-bekhoda, he is netted, plucked, spitted, '
and roasted ! Who knows how misfortune comes 1 It has come
to Gahagan Gujputi ! "
" It is Avell," said I stoutly, and in the Malay language.
*' Gahagan Gujputi will bear it like a man."
" No doubt — like a Avise man and a brave one ; but there is no
lane so long to which there is not a turning, no night so black to
which there comes not a morning. Icy winter is followed by merry
siiringtime — grief is often succeeded by joy."
" Interpret, riddler ! " said I ; " Gahagan Khan is no reader
of puzzles — no i^rating mollah. Gujputi loves not words, but
swords."
" Listen then, Gujputi : you are in Holkar's power."
" I know it."
" You will die by the most horrible tortures to-morrow morning."
" I dare say."
"They will tear your teeth from your jaws, your nails from
your fingers, and your eyes from your head."
" Very possibly."
" They will flay you alive, and then burn you."
"Well; they can't do any more."
"They will seize upon every man and woman in yonder fort" —
it was not then taken ! — "and repeat upon tliem the same tortures."
" Ha ! Belinda ! Speak — how can all this be avoided 1 "
" Listen. Gahagan loves the moon-face called Belinda."
" He does. Vizier, to distraction."
" Of what rank is he in the Koompani's army 1 "
" A captain."
" A miserable captain— oh, shame ! Of what creed is he ? "
" I am an Irishman, and a Catholic."
"But he has not been very particular about his religious
duties 1 ■•'
" Alas, no ! "
" He has not been to his mosque for these twelve years 1"
" 'Tis too true."
i82 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
" Hearken now, Gahagan Khan. His Highness Prince Holkar
has sent me to thee. You shall have the moon-face for your wife
— your second wife, that is ; — the first shall be the incomparable
Putee Rooge, who loves you to madness ; — with Puttee Rooge, who
is the wife, you shall have the wealth and rank of Bobbachy
Bahawder, of Avhom his Highness intends to get rid. You shall
be second in command of his Highness's forces. Look, here is his
conunission signed with the celestial seal, and attested by the sacred
names of the forty-nine Imaums. You have but to renounce your
religion and your service, and all these rewards are yours."
He produced a parchment, signed as he said, and gave it to
me (it was beautifully written in Indian ink : I had it for fourteen
years, but a rascally valet, seeing it very dirty, ivashed it, forsooth,
and waslied otf every bit of the writing). I took it calmly, and
said, " This is a tempting offer. Vizier, how long wilt thou give
nie to consider of it 1 "
After a long parley, he allowed me six hours, when I promised
to give him an answer. My mind, however, was made up — as soon
as he was gone, I threw myself on the sofa and fell asleep.
At the end of the six hoiu-s the Vizier came back : two people
were with him ; one, by his martial aj)j)earance, I knew to be Holkar,
the other I diil not recognise. It was about midnight.
" Have you considered ? " said the Vizier, as he came to my
couch.
" I have," said I, sitting up, — I could not stand, for my legs
were tied, and my arms fixc<l in a neat pair of steel handcuffs. " I
have," said I, " unbelieving dogs ! I liave. Do you think to pervert
a Cliristian gentleman from his faith and honour ? Ruffian blacka-
moors ! do your worst ; heap tortures on this body, they cannot last
long. Tear me to pieces : after you have torn me into a certain
luunber of ])ioces, I sliall not feel it; and if I did, if each ti>rture
could last a life, if each limb were to feel the agonies of a whole
body, what then? I would bear all — all — all — all — all — all!"
My breiist heaved — my form dilated— ray eye flashed as I spoke
tlicse words. " Tyrants ! " said I, "dulce et decorum est pro patria,
mori." Having tluis clinched the argument, I was silent.
The venerable Grand Vizier turned away ; I saw a tear trickling
down his cheeks.
" What a constancy ! " said he. " Oh, that such beauty and
such bravery should be doomed so soon to quit the earth ! "
His tall companion only sneered and said, ^^ And Belinda ?"
" Ha ! " said I, " ruffian, be still ! — Heaven will protect her
MAJOR GAHAGAN 183
spotless innocence. Holkar, I know thee, and thou knowest me
too! Wlio, with his single sword, destroyed thy armies 1 Who,
with his pistol, cleft in twain thy nose-ring? Who slew thy
generals ? Who slew thy elephants 1 Three hundred mighty beasts
went forth to battle : of these / slew one hundred and thirty -five !
Dog, coward, ruffian, tyrant, unbeliever ! Gahagan hates thee,
spurns thee, spits on thee ! "
Holkar, as I made these uncomplimentary remarks, gave a
scream of rage, and, drawing his scimitar, rushed on to despatch me
at once (it was the very thing I wished for), when the third person
sjirang forward and, seizing his arm, cried —
" Papa ! oh, save him ! " It was Puttee Rooge ! " Remember,"
continued she, " his nusfortunes — remember, oh, remember my —
love ! " — and here she blushed, and putting one finger into her
mouth, and hanging down her head, looked the very picture of
modest affection.
Holkar sulkily sheathed his scimitar, and muttered, " "Tis better
as it is ; had I killed him now, I had spared him the torture. Nono
of this shameless fooling. Puttee Rooge," continued the tyrant,
dragging her away. " Captain Gahagan dies three hours from
hence." Puttee Rooge gave one scream and fainted — her father
and the Vizier carried her off" between them ; nor was I loth to part
with her, for, with all her love, she was was as ugly as the deuce.
They were gone — my fate was decided. I had but three hours
more of life : so I fiung myself ag;un on the sofa, and fell ])rofoundly
asleep. As it may happen to any of my readers to be in the same
situation, and to be hanged tliemselves, let me earnestly entreat
them to adopt this })lan of going to sleep, which I for my part have
repeatedly found to be successful. It saves imnecessary annoyance,
it passes away a great deal of unpleasant time, and it prepares one
to meet like a man the coming catastrophe.
Three o'clock came : the sun was at this time making his appear-
ance in the heavens, and with it came the guards, who were ap-
l)ointed to conduct me to the torture. I woke, rose, was carried
out, and was set on the very white donkey on which Loll Mahom-
med was conducted through the camp after he was bastinadoed.
Bobbachy Bahawder rode behind me, restored to his rank and state;
troops of cavalry hemmed us in on all sides ; ray ass was conducted
by the common executioner : a crier went forward, shouting out,
" Make way for the destroyer of the faithful — he goes to bear the
punishment of his crimes." We came to the fatal plain : it was the
very spot whence I had borne away the elephant, and in full sight
184 THE TREMENDOUS ADVENTURES OF
of the fort. I looked towards it. Thank Heaven ! King George's
banner waved on it still — a crowd were gathered on the walls — the
men, the dastards who had deserted me — and women, too. Among
the latter I thought I distinguished one who — gods ! the thought
turned me sick — I trembled and looked pale for the first time.
" He trembles ! he turns pale," shouted out Bobbachy Bahawder,
ferociously exulting over his conquered enemy.
" Dog ! " shouted I— (I was sitting with my head to the donkey's
tail, and so looked the Bobbachy full in the face) — " not so pale as
you looked when I felled you with tliis arm — not so pale as your
women looked when I entered your harem ! " Completely chop-
fallen, the Indian ruffian was silent : at any rate, I had done for him.
We arrived at the j)lace of execution. A stake, a couple of feet
thick and eight high, was driven in the grass : round the stake, about
seven feet from the ground, was an iron ring, to which were attached
two fetters ; in these my wrists were placed. Two or three execu-
tioners stood near, with strange-looking instruments : others were
blowing at a fire, over which was a caldron, and in the embers were
stuck prongs and other instruments of iron.
The crier came forwanl and read my sentence. It was the same
in effect as that which had been hinted to me the day previous by
the Grand Vizier. I confess I w<as too agitated to catch every word
that was spoken.
H<ilkar himself, on a tall dromedary, was at a little distance.
The Grand Vizier came up to me — it was liis duty to stand by, and
see the inuiishmcnt jtcrfonnod. " It is yet time ! " said he.
I nodded my head, but did not answer.
The Vizier cast up to heaven a look of inexpressible anguish,
and with a voice choking with emotion, said, "Executioner — do
— i/our — duff/ .' "
The horrid man advanced — he whispered sulkily in the ears of
the Grand Vizier, " Gufj;/!}/ ka ghee, hum khedr/eree," said he, " the
oil does not boil yet — wait one minute." The assistants blew, the
fire blazed, the oil was heated. The Vizier drew a few feet aside :
taking a large ladle full of the boiling liquid, he advanced
" Whish ! bang, bang ! pop ! " the executioner was dead at my
feet, shot through the head : the ladle of scalding oil had been dashed
in the face of the unliappy Grand Vizier, who lay on the plain, howl-
ing. " Whish ! bang ! pop ! Hurrah ! — charge ! — forwards ! — cut
them down ! — no quarter ! "
I saw — yes, no, yes, no, yes ! — I saw regiment upon regiment of
MAJOR GAHAGAN 185
galloping Britisli horsemen riding over the ranks of the flying natives.
First of the host, I recognised, Heaven ! my Ahmednuggar
Irregulars ! On came the gallant line of black steeds and horse-
men ; swift, swift before them rode my officers iu yellow — Glogger,
Pappendick, and Stuffle; their sabres gleamed in the sun, their
voices nmg in the air. " D them ! " they cried, " give it them,
boys ! " A strength supernatural thrilled through my veins at that
delicious music : by one trementlous eff'ort, I wrested the post from
its foundation, five feet in the ground. I could not release my
hands from the fetters, it is true ; but, grasping the beam tightly,
I sprung forward — with one blow I levelled the five executioners in
the midst of the fire, their fall upsetting the scalding oil-can ; with
the next, I swept the bearers of Bobbachy's palanquin off" their legs ;
with the tliird, I caught that cliief himself iu the small of the back,
and sent him flying on to the sabres of my advancing soldiers !
The next minute, Glogger and Stuffle were in my arms, Pappen-
dick leading on the Irregulars. Friend and foe in that wild chase
had swept far away. We were alone : I was freed from my immense
bar ; and ten minutes afterwards, when Lord Lake trotted up with
his staff", he found me sitting on it.
"Look at Galiagan," said his Lordship. "Gentlemen, did I
not tell you we should be sure to find him at his pout 'i "
The gallant old nobleman rode on : and this was the famous
BATTLE OP FURRUCKABAD, Or SURPRISE OP FUTTYGHUR, fought On
the 17th of November 1804.
About a month afterwards, the following announcement appeared
in the Boggleyivollah Hurkam and other Indian papers : —
" Married, on the 25th of December, at Futtyghur, by the Rev.
Dr. Snorter, Captain Goliah O'Grady Gahagan, Commanding IiTegular
Horse, Ahmednuggar, to Belinda, second daughter of Major-General
Bulcher, C.B. His Excellency the Commander-in-Chief gave away
the bride ; and after a splendid dejeuner, the happy pair set oft' to
pass the Mango season at Hurrygurrybang. Venus must recollect,
however, that Mars must not always be at her side. The Irregulars
are nothing without their leader."
Such was the paragraph — such the event — the happiest in the
existence of
P G. O'G. a, M.H.E.LC.S., C.I.H.A.
COX'S DIARY
COX'S DIARY
JANUARY— THE ANNOUNCEMENT
ON the Lst of January 1838, I was the master of a lovely
shoji in the neighbourhood of Oxford Market; of a wife,
Mrs. Cox ; of a business, l)oth in the shaving and cutting
line, established three-and-tliirty years ; of a girl and boy respectively
of the ages of eighteen and thirteen; of a three-windowed front,
both to my first and second i^air ; of a young foreman, my prciscnt
partner, Mr. Orlando Crump ; and of that celeljrated mixture for
the human hair, invented by my late uncle, and called Cox's
Bohemian Balsam of Tokay, sold in pots at two-and-three and three-
and-nine. The balsam, the lodgings, and the old-established cutting
and shaving business brought me in a pretty genteel income. I had
my girl, Jemimarann, at Hackney, to school; my dear boy, Tugge-
ridge, plaited hair beautifully ; my wife at the counter (behind the
tray of patent soaps, &c.) cut as handsome a figure as possible ; and
it was my hope that Orlando and my girl, who were mighty soft
upon one another, woidtl one day be joined together in Hyming,
and, conjointly with my son Tug, carry on the business of hair-
dressers when their father was either dead or a gentleman : for
a gentleman me and Mrs. C. determined I should be.
Jemima was, you see, a lady herself, aiid of very high connec-
tions : though her own family had met with crosses and was rather
low. Mr. Tuggeridge, her father, kept the famous trii)e-sliop near
the " Pigtail and Sparrow," in the Whitechapel Road ; from which
place I married her ; being myself very fond of the article, and
especially when she served it to me — the dear thing !
Jemima's father was not successful in business : and I married
her, I am proud to confess it, without a shilling. I had my hands,
my house, and my Bohemian balsam to support her! — and we had
hopes from her uncle, a mighty rich East India merchant, who,
having left this country sixty years ago as a cabin-boy, had arrived
to be the head of a great house in India, and was worth millions,
we v/ere told.
15
I90 COX'S DIARY
Three years after Jeniimarann s birth (and two after the death
of my lamented fixther-in-law), Tuggeridge (head of the great house
of Budgurow & Co.) retired from the management of it ; handed
over his shares to his son, Mr. John Tuggeridge, and came to live
in England, at Portland Place and Tuggeridgeville, Surrey, and
enjoy himself. Soon after, my wife took her daughter in her hand
and went, as in duty bound, to visit her uncle : but whether it
was that he was proud and surly, or she somewhat sharp in her
way (the dear girl fears nobody, let me have you to know), a
desperate quarrel took place "between them ; and from that day to
tlie day of his death, he never set eyes on her. All that he would
condescend to do, was to take a few dozen of lavender-water from
us in the course of the year, and to send his servants to be cut and
shaved by us. All the neighbours laughed at this poor endmg of
our expectations, for Jemmy had bragged not a little ; however we
did not care, for the connection Avas always a good one, and we
served Mr. Hock, the valet ; Mr. Bar, tlie coachman ; and Mrs.
Breadbasket, the housekeeper, willingly enough. I used to powder
the footman, too, on great days, but never in my life saw old
Tuggeridge, except once : when he said, " Oh, the barber ! " tossed
up his nose, and iwussed on.
One day — one famous day last January — all oiu" Market was
thrown into a high state of excitement by the appearance of no less
than throe vehicles at our establishment. As me. Jemmy, my
daughter. Tug, and Orlando were sitting in the back-parlour over
our dinner (it being Christmas-time, Mr. Crump had treated the
ladies to a bottle of port, and was longing that there should be a
mistletoe-bough : at which jiroposal my little Jeniimarann looked as
red as a glass of negus) : — we had just, I say, finished the port,
when, all of a sudden. Tug bellows out, "La, ]ta, here's Uncle
Tuggeridgc's housekeeiier in a cab ! "
And Mrs. Breadliasket it was, sure enough — Mrs. Breadbasket
in deep mourning, who made her way, bo\\ang and looking very
sad, into the back shop. I\Iy wife, who respected I\Irs. B. more
than anything else in the world, set her a chair, otfered her a glass
of wine, and vowed it was very kind of her to come. " La, mem,"
says Mr. B., " I'm sure I'd do anything to serve your family, for
the sake of that poor dear Tuck-Tuck-tug-guggeridge, that's gone."
"That's what?" cries my wife.
" What, gone 1 " cried Jemimarann, bursting out crying (as little
girls will about anything or nothing) ; and Orlando looking very
rueful, and ready to cry too.
"Yes, gaw " Just as she was at this very "gaw," Tug
roars out, " La, pa ! here's Mr. Bar, Uncle Tug's coachman ! "
THE ANNOUNCEMENT 191
It was Mr. Bar. When she saw him, Mrs. Breadbasket stepped
suddenly back into the parlour with my ladies. " What is it,
Mr. Bar?" says I; and as quick as thought, I had the towel
under his chin, Mr. Bar in the chair, and the whole of his face
in a beautiful foam of lather. Mr. Bar made some resistance.—
"Don't think of it, Mr. Cox," says he; "don't trouble yourself,
sir," but I lathered away, and never minded. " And what's this
melancholy event, sir," says I, "that has si)read desolation in your
family's bosoms 1 I can feel for your loss, sir — I can feel for youi-
loss."
I said so out of politeness, because I served the fixmily, not
because Tuggeridge was my uncle — no, as such I disown him.
Mr. Bar was just about to speak. " Yes, sir," says he, " my
master's gaw " when at the "gaw," in walks Mr. Hock, the
own man ! — the finest gentleman I ever saw.
" What, yoii here, Mr. Bar ! " says he.
" Yes, I am, sir ; and haven't I a right, sir 1 "
" A mighty wet day, sir," says I to Mr. Hock — stepping up
and making my bow. " A sad circumstance too, sir ! And is it
a turn of the tongs that you want to-day, sir 1 Ho, there, Mr.
Cramp ! "
" Turn, Mr. Crump, if you please, sir," said Mr. Hock, making
a bow; "but from you, sir, never — no, never, split me! — and I
wonder how some fellows can have the insolence to allow their
MASTERS to shave them ! " With this Mr. Hock flung himself
down to be curled : Mr. Bar suddenly opened his mouth in order
to reply ; but seeing there was a tiff between the gentlemen, and
wanting to prevent a quarrel, I ranuried the Advertiser into Mr.
Hock's hands, and just popped my shaving-brush into Mr. Bar's
mouth — a capital way to stop angry answers.
Mr. Bar had hardly been in the chair one second, when whirr
comes a hackney-coach to the door, from which springs a gentleman
in a black coat with a bag.
" What, you liere ! " says the gentleman. I could not holi)
smiling, for it seemed that everybody was to begin by saying,
"What, 1/ou here!" "Your name is Cox, sir?" says he, smiling,
too, as the very pattern of mine. " My name, sir, is Sharpus, —
Blunt, Hone, and Sharpus, Middle Temple Lane, — and I am proud
to salute you, sir; happy, — that is to say, sorry to say, that Mr.
Tuggeridge, of Portland Place, is dead, and your lady is heiress, in
consequence, to one of the handsomest properties in the kingdom."
At this I started, and nught have sunk to the groimd, but for
my hold of Mr. Bar's nose ; Orlando seemed putrified to stone, with
his irons fixed to Mr Hock's head ; our respective patients gave a
792 COX'S DIARY
wince out : — Mrs. C, Jemimaranii, and Tug rushed from the back
«hop, and we formed a splendid tableau such as the great Cruik-
shank might have depicted.
" And Mr. John Tuggeridge, sir 1 " says I.
" Why — hee, hee, hee ! " says Mr. Sharpus. " Surely you know
that he was only the — hee, hee, hee ! — the natural son ! "
You now can understand why the servants from Portland Place
had been so eager to come to us. One of the housemaids heard Mr.
Sliarpus say tliere "was no "will, and that my wife was heir to tlie
property, and not Mr. John Tuggeridge : this she told in the house-
keeper's room ; and off, as soon as they heard it, the "w^hole party
set, in order to be the first to bear the news.
We kept them, every one, in their old places ; for, though my
wife would have sent them about their business, my dear Jemi
marann just liinted, " Mamma, you know the;/ have been used to
great houses, and we have not ; had we not better keep them for
a little 1 " — Keep them, then, "sve did, to show us how to be
gentlefolks.
I handed over the business to Mr. Crump without a single
farthing of ])remium, tliough Jemmy would have made me take four
liundred pounds fur it ; but this I Avas above : Crump had served
me faitlifully. and liave the shop he should.
FEBRUARY— FIRST ROUT
WE were speedily installed in om- fine house : but what's a
liouse without friends 1 Jemmy made me cut all my old
acquaintances in the Market, and I was a solitary being ;
when, luckily, an old acquaintance of oiu's, Captain Tagrag, was so
kind as to promise to introduce us into distinguished society. Tagrag
was the son of a baronet, and had done us the honour of lodging
with us for two years ; when we lost sight of him, and of his little
account, too, by the way. A fortnight after, hearing of our good
fortune, he was among us again, however ; and Jemmy was not a
little glad to see him, knowing him to be a baronet's son, and very
fond of our Jemimarann. Indeed, Oilando (who is as brave as a
lion) had on one occasion absolutely beaten Mr. Tagrag for being
rude to the poor girl : a clear proof, as Tagrag said afterwards, that
he was always fond of her.
Mr. Cnnup, poor fellow, was not very much pleased by our
good fortune, though he did all he could to try at first; and I told
him to come and take his dinner regular, as if nothing had happened.
But to this Jemima very soon put a stop, for she came very justly to
know her stature, and to look down on Crump, which she bid her
daughter to do ; and, after a great scene, in which Orlando showed
himself very rude and angry, he was forbidden the house — for ever !
So much for poor Crumi). The Crqjtain was now all in all with
us. "You see, sir," our Jenuny would say, "we shall have our
town and country mansion, and a hundred and thirty thousand
pounds in the funds, to leave between our two children ; and, with
su(;h prospects, they ought surely to have the first society of
England." To this Tagrag agreed, and promised to bring us
acquainted with the very pink of the fashion; ay, and what's
more, did.
First, he made my wife get an opera-box, and give suppers
on Tuesdays and Saturdays. As for me, he made me ride in the
Park : me and Jemimarann, with two grooms behind us, who used
to laugh all the way, and whose very beards I had shaved. As
for little Tug, he was sent straight off to the most fashionable school
in. the kuigdom, the Reverend Dr. Pigney's, at Richmond.
194 COX'S DIARY
Well, the horses, the suppers, the opera-hox, the paragraphs in
the papers about Mr. Coxe Coxe (that's the way : double your name
and stick an "e" to the end of it, and you are a gentleman at
once), had an effect in a wonderfully short space of time, and we
began to get a very pretty society about us. Some of old Tug's
friends swore they would do anything for the family, and brought
their wives and daughters to see ilear ilrs. Coxe and her charming
girl ; and when, about the first week in February, we annovmced a
grand dinner and ball for the evening of the twenty-eighth, I assure
you there was no want of company : no, nor of titles neither ; and
it always does my heart good even to hear one mentioned.
Let me see. There was, first, my Lord liunboozle, an Irish
peer, and his seven sons, the Honourable Messieurs Trumper (two
only to dinner) ; there was Count Mace, the celebrated Freud i
nobleman, and his Excellency Baron von Punter from Baden ; there
was Lady Blanche Bluenose, the eminent literati, author of " Tlie
Distnisted," " The Distorted," "The Disgusted," " The Disreputa])le
One," and other poems; there was the Dowager Latly Max and her
daughter, the Honourable Miss Adelaide Blueruin ; Sir Charles
Codshead, from the Citv ; and Field-Marshal Sir Gonuan O'Gallagher,
K.A., K.B., K.C., K.W., K.X., in tiie service of the Republic of
Guatemala ; my friend Tagrag and his fashionable acquaintance,
little Tom Tufthunt, made up the party. And when the doors
were flung open, and Mr. Hock, in black, with a white napkin, tliree
footmen, coachman, and a lad whom Mrs. C. had dressed in sugar-
loaf buttons and called a page, were seen round the dinner-table, all
in wliite gloves, I promise you I felt a thrill of elation, and thought
to myself — Sam Cox, Sam Cox, who ever would have expected to
see you here?
After dinner, there was to be, as I said, an evening party ; and
to this Messieurs Tagrag and Tufthunt had inWted many of the
principal nobility that our metropolis had produced. When I
mention, aniung the company to tea, her Grace the Duchess of
Zero, her son the Marquis of Fitzui-se, and the Ladies North Pole
her daughtei-s ; when I say that there were yet othtrs, whose names
may be found in the Blue Book, and shan't, out of modesty, be
mentioned here, I think I've said enough to show that, in our time,
No. 96 Portland Place was the resort of the best of company.
It was our first dinner, and dressed by our new cook, Munseer
Cordongblew. I bore it very well ; eating, for my share, a filly
dysol allamater dotell, a cutlet soubeast, a puUy bashymall, and
other French dishes : and, for the frisky sweet wine, with tin tops
to the bottles, called champang, I must say that me and Mrs.
Ccxe-Tuggeridge Coxe drank a very good share of it (but the claret
5; ^i^^^^^^^^^v-;
Ml-
FIRST ROUT 195
and Jonnysberger, being sour, wc did not much relish). However,
the feed, as I say, went off very well : Lady Blanche Bluenose
sitting next to me, and being so good as to put me down for six
copies of all her poems ; the Count and Baron von Punter engaging
Jemimarann for several waltzes, and the Field-Marshal plying my
dear Jemmy ^^^th champang, until, bless her ! her dear nose, be-
came as red as her new crimson satin gown, which, with a blue
turban and bird-of-paradise feathers, made her look like an empress,
I warrant.
Well, dinner past, Mrs, C. and the ladies went off: — thunder-
under-under came the knocks at the door; scpieedle-eedle-ccdlc,
Mr. Wippert's fiddlers began to strike up ; and, about half-past
eleven, me and the gents thought it high time to make our apjtear-
ance. I felt a little squeamish at the thought of meeting a couple of
liundred great people ; but Count Mace and Sir Gormart»0'Gallagher
taking each an arm, w^e reached, at last, the drawing-room.
The young ones in company W'ere dancing, and the Duchess and
the gi-eat ladies were all seated, talking to themselves very stately,
and working away at the ices and macaroons. I looked out for my
pretty Jemimarann amongst the dancers, and saw her tearing round
the room along with Baxon Punter, in what they call a gahypard ;
then I peeped into the circle of the Duchesses, where, in course,
I expected to find Mrs. C. ; but she wasn't there ! She was seated
at the further end of the room, looking very sulky ; and I went up
and took her arm, and brought her down to the place where the
Duchesses w^ere. " Oh, not there ! " said Jemmy, trying to break
away. "Nonsense, my dear," says I : "you are missis, and this is
your place." Then going up to her Ladyship the Duchess, says
i, "Me and my missis are most proud of the honour of seeing
of you."
The Duchess (a tall red-haired grenadier of a woman) did not
speak.
I went on : " The young ones are all at it, ma'am, you see ;
and so we thought w^e would come and sit down among the old
ones. You and I, ma'am, I think, are too stifi" to dance."
" Sir ! " says her Grace.
"Ma'am," says I, "don't you know me'? My name's Coxe.
Nobody's introduced me; but dash it, it's my own house, and I
may present myself — so give us your hand, ma'am."
And I shook hers in the kindest way in the world : but — would
you believe it 1 — the old cat screamed as if my hand had been a hot
'tater. " Fitzurse ! Fitzurse ! " shouted she, " help ! help ! " Up
scuffled all the other Dowagers— in rushed the dancers. "Mamma '
mamma!" squeaked Lady Julia North Pole. "Lead me to n\y
196 COX'S DIARY
mother," howled Lady Aurorer : and both came up and flung them-
selves into her arms. "Wawt's the raw?" said Lord Fitzurse,
sauntering up quite stately.
"Protect me from the insults of this man," says her Grace.
"Where's Tufthunt? he promised that not a soul in this hoase
should speak to me."
" My dear Duchess," said Tufthunt, very meek.
" Don't Duchess me, sir. Did you not promise they should not
speak, and hasn't that horrid tipsy wretch oficred to embrace me 1
Didn't his monstrous wife sicken me ■\\ith her odious familiarities 1
Call my people, Tufthunt ! Follow me, my children ! "
" And my carriage ! " " And mine ! " " And mine ! " shouted
twenty more voices. And doAvn they all trooped to the hall : Lady
Blanche Bluenose and Lady Max among the very first ; leaving only
the Field-MaB'shal and one or two men, who roared with laughter
ready to spht.
" Oh, Sam," said my wife, sobbing, " why would you take me
back to tliem ? they had sent me aM^ay before ! I only asked the
Duchess wliether she didn't like rum-shrub better than all your
Maxarinos and Curasosos : and — would you believe it ? — all the
company burst out laughing; and the Duchess told me just to keep
off, and not to speak till I was spoken to. Imperence ! I'd like to
tear her eyes out."
And so I do believe my dearest Jemmy woidd !
MARCH— A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS
OUR ball had failed so completely that Jemmy, who was bent
still upon fashion, caught eagerly at Tagrag's suggestion,
and went down to Tuggeridgeville. If we had a difficulty
to find friends in town, here there was none : for the whf)le county
came about us, ate our dinners and sujjpers, danced at our balls —
ay, and spoke to us too. We were great people in fact : I a regular
country gentleman ; and as such Jemmy insisted that I should be a
sportsman, and join the county hunt. "But," says I, "my love, I
can't ride." "Pooh! Mr. C," said she, "you're always making
difficulties : you thought you couldn't dance a quadrille ; you thought
you couldn't dine at seven o'clock ; you thought you couldn't lie in
bed after six ; and haven't you done every one of these things ?
You must and you shall ride ! " And when my Jemmy said " must
and shall," I knew very well there was nothing for it : so I sent
down fifty guineas to the hunt, and, out of compliment to me, the
very next week, I received notice that the meet of the hoiuuls would
take place at Squashtail Common, just outside my lodge-gates.
I didn't know what a meet was ; and me and Mrs. (J. agreed
that it was most probable the dogs were to be fed there. However,
Tagrag explained this matter to us, and very kindly promised to sell
me a horse, a delightful animal of his own ; which, being desjieratoly
pressed for money, he woiUd let me have for a hundred guineas, he
himself having given a hundred and fifty for it.
Well, the Thursday came : the hounds met on Squashtail Common ;
Mrs. 0. turned out in her barouche to see us throw off ; and, l)eing
helped up on my chestnut horse. Trumpeter, by Tagrag and my
head groom, I came presently round to join them.
Tag mounted his own horse; and, as we walked down the
avenue, " I thought," he said, "you told me you knew how to ride ;
and that you had ridden once fifty miles on a stretch ! "
"And so I did," says I, "to Cambridge, and on the box too."
"On the box!'' says he ; "but did you ever mount a horse before?"
" Never," says I, " but I find it mighty easy."
" Well," says he, " you're mighty bold for a barber ; and I like
you, Coxe, for your spirit." And so we came out of the gate.
198 COX'S DIARY
As for describing the hunt, I own, fairly, I can't. I've been at
a hunt, but what a hunt is — why the horses will go among the
dogs and ride them down — why the men cry out " yooooic " — why
the dogs go snuffing about in threes and fours, and the huntsman
says, " Good Towler — good Betsy," and we all of us after him say,
" Good Towler — good Betsy " in course : then, after hearing a yelp
here and a howl there, tow, row, vow, yow, vow ! burst out, all of
a sudden, from three or four of them, and the chap in a velvet cap
screeches out (with a number of oaths I shan't repeat here), " Hark,
to Ringwood ! " and then, " There he goes ! " says some one ; and
all of a sudden, lielter skelter, skurry hurry, slap bang, whooping,
screeching and hurraing, blue-coats and red-coats, bays and greys,
horses, dogs, donkeys, butchers, baro-knights, dustmen, and bhu^k-
gnard boys, go tearing all together over the common after two or
three of the pack that yowl loudest. Why all this is, I can't say ;
but it all took place the second Thursday of last March in my
presence.
Up to this, I'd kept my seat as well as the best, for we'd only
been trotting geiitly about the field until the dogs found ; and I
managed to stick on very well ; but directly the tow-rowing began,
off went Trumpeter like a thunderbolt, and I found myself playing
among the dogs like the donkey among the chickens. "Back, Mr.
Coxe," holloas the huntsman ; and so I pulled very hard, and cried
out, " Wo ! " but he wouldn't ; anil on I went galloping for the
dear life. Hmv I kept on is a Avonder; but I sijueczed my knees in
very tight, ami slioved my feet very hard into the stirrups, and kept
stiff" hold of the scruff" of Trumpeter's neck, and looked betwixt his
ears as well as ever I could, and tnisted to luck : for I was in a
mortal fright, sure enough, as many a better man would be in such
a case, let alone a j)oor hairdresser.
As for the hounds, after my first riding in among them, I tell
you honestly, I never saw so much as the tip of one of their tails ;
nothing in this world did I see except Trumpeter's dun-coloured
mane, and that I gripped firm : riding, by the blessing of luck, safe
through the walking, the trotting, the galloping, and never so much
as getting a tumble.
There was a cliap at Croydon very well known as the " Spicy
Dustman," wlio, when he could get no horse to ride to the hounds,
turned rep;ularly out on his donkey; and on this occasion made one
<if us. He generally managed to keep uj) with the dogs by trotting
ijuietly through the cross-roads, and knowing the country well.
Well, having a good guess where the hounds would find, and the
line that sly Reynolds (as they call the fox) would take, the Spicy
Dustman turned his animal down the lane from Squashtail to
W
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I
O
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to
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a
o
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a
A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS 199
Cutshins Common; across which, sure eiiou|,di, came the whole
himt. There's a small hedge and a remarkably fine ditch here :
some of the leading cliaps took both, in gallant style ; others went
round by a gate, and so would I, only I couldn't ; for Trumpeter
would have the hedge, and be hanged to him, and went right for it.
Hoop ! if ever you did try a leap ! Out go your legs, out fling
your arms, oft' goes your hat ; and the next thing you feel — that is,
/ did — is a most tremendous thwack across the chest, and my feet
jerked out of the stirrups : me left in the branches of a tree ;
Trumpeter gone clean from under me, and walloping and floundering
in the ditch underneath. One of the stirrup-leathers had caught
in a stake, and the horse couldn't get away : and neither of us,
I thought, ever would have got away : but all of a sudden, who
should come up the lane but the Spicy Dustman !
" Holloa ! " says I, " you gent, just let us down from this here
tree ! "
" Lor' ! " says he, " I'm blest if I didn't take you for a robin."
" Let's down," says I ; but he was all the time employed in dis-
engaging Trumjieter, whom he got out of the ditch, trembling and
as quiet as possil)le. "Let's down," says I. "Presently," says he ;
and taking oft" his coat, he begins whistling and swishing down
Trumpeter's sides and saddle ; and when he had finished, what do
you think the rascal did ? — he just quietly mounted on Trumpeter's
back, and shouts out, " Git down yourself, old Bearsgrease ; you've
only to drop ! Fll give your 'oss a hairing arter them 'ounds ; and
you — vy, you may ride back my pony to Tuggeridgeweal ! " And
with this, I'm blest if he didn't ride away, leaving me holding, as for
the dear life, and expecting every minute the branch would break.
It did break too, and down I came into the slush ; and when I
got out of it, I can tell you I didn't look much like the Venuses or
the Apoller Belvidearis what I used to dress and titivate up for my
shop window when I was in the hairdressing line, or smell quite so
elegant as our rose-oil. Faugh ; what a figure I was !
I had nothing for it but to mofcnt the dustman's donkey (whicli
was very quietly cropping grass in the hedge), and to make my way
home ; and after a weary, weary journey, I arrived at my own gate.
A whole i)arty was assembled there. Tagrag, who had come
back ; their Excellencies Mace and Punter, who were on a visit ; and
a number of horses walking up and down before the whole of the
gentlemen of the hunt, who had come in after losing their fox !
" Here's Squire Coxe ! " shouted the grooms. Out rushed the
servants, out poured the gents of the hunt, and on trotted pool- me,
digging into the donkey, and everybody dying with laughter at me.
Just as I got up to the door, a horse came galloping up, aaid
16
200 COX'S DIARY
passed me ; a man jumped down, and taking off a fontail hat, came
up, very gravely, to help me dowTi.
" Squire,' says he, " how came you by that there hanimal? Jiet
git down, will you, and give it to its howner ? "
" Rascal ! " says I, " didn't you ride <iff on my horse 1 "
" Was there ever sit-h ingratitude ? '" s;iys the Spicy. " I found
this year 'oss in a pond, I siives him from drowning, I brings him
bark to his master, and ho falls me a nusi-al ! "
The grooms, the gents, the ladies in tlie lialcoiiy, my own
servants, all wt up a rojir at this ; and so would I, only I was so
deu('('<lly ashamed, as not to be able t<» laugh just then.
An<l .so my first day's hunting end<(l. Tagnig and the rest
declared I shownl great pluck, anil wanted me to try again ; but
"No," .^ays I, "I /,<nr U-en."
APRIL— THE FINISHING TOUCH
I WAS always fond of billiards ; and, in former days, at Grogram's
in Greek Street, where a few jolly lads of my aequaintance used
to meet twice a week for a game, and a snug pij^e and beer, I
wjis generally voted the first man of the club; and could take five
from John the marker himself, I had a genius, in fact, for the
game ; and now that I was placed in that station of life where I
could cultivate my talents, I gave them full play, and improved
amazingly. I do say that I tliink myself as good a hand as any
chap in England.
The Count and his Excellency Baron von Punter were, I can
tell you, astonished by the smartness of my play ; the first two or
three nibbers Punter beat me, but when I came to know his game,
I used to knock him all to sticks ; or, at least, win six games to his
four ; and such was the betting upon me, his Excellency losing
large sums to the Count, who knew what play was, and used to
back me. I did not play except for shillings, so my skill was of
ilo great sennce to me.
One day I entered the billiard-room wdiere these three gentle-
men were high in words. " The thing shall not be done," I heard
Captain Tagrag say, "I won't stand it."
"Vat, begause you would have de bird idl to yourzelf, hey?"
said the Baron.
" You sail not have a single fezare of him, begar," said the
Count : " ve vill blow you. Monsieur de Taguerague ; parole
(Thonneur, ve vill."
"What's all this, gents," says I, stepping in, "about birds and
feathers ] "
"Oh," says Tagrag, "we were talking about — about —pigeon-
shooting ; the Count here says he will blow a bird all to i)ieces at
twenty yards, and I said I wouldn't stand it, because it was regular
murder."
" Oh, yase, it was bidgeon-shooting," cries the Baron : " and I
know no better short. . Have you been bidgeon-shooting, my dear
Squire ? De fon is gabidal."
" No doubt," says I, " for the shooters, but mighty bad sport
202 COX'S DIARY
for the pigeon." And this joke set them all a-laughing ready to
die. I didn't know then what a good joke it was, neither ; but I
gave Master Baron, that day, a precious good beating, and walked
off with no less than fifteen shillings of his money.
As a sporting man, and a man of fashion, I need not say that I
took in the Flare-^ip regularly ; ay, and WTote one or two trifles in
that celebrated publication (one of my papers, which Tagrag sub-
scribed for me, Philo-pestitiaeamicus, on the proper sauce for teal
and widgeon — and the other, signed Scru-tatos, on the best mean':
of cultivating the kidney species of that vegetable — made no small
noise at the time, and got me in the paper a compliment from the
editor). I was a constant reader of the Notices to Correspondents,
and, my early education having been rayther neglected (for I was
taken from my studies and set, as is the custom in our trade, to
practise on a slieep's head at tlie tender age of nine years, before I
was allowed to venture on the humane countenance), — I say, being
thus curtailed and cut off in my classical learning, I must confess I
managed to pick up a pretty smattering of genteel information from
that treasury of all sorts of knowledge ; at least sufficient to make
me a match in learning for all the noblemen and gentlemen who
came to our house. Well, on looking over the Flare-up Notices to
Correspondents, I read, one day last April, among the Notices, as
follows : —
" ' Automodou.' — We do not know the precise age of Mr. Baker,
of Covent Garden Theatre : nor are we aware if that celebrated son
of Thespis is a married man.
" ' Ducks and Green-peas ' is informed, that when A plays his
rook to B's second Knight's square, and B, moving two squares
with his Queen's ]»awn, gives check to his adversary's Queen, there
is no rea.son why B's Queen should not take A's pawn, if B be so
inclined.
" ' F. L. S.' — We have repeatedly answered the question about
Madame Vestris : her maiden name was Bartolozzi, and .slie married
the son of Cliarles Mathews, the celebrated comedian.
" ' Fair Play.' — The best amateur billiard and (icart^ player in
England is Coxe-Tuggeridge Coxe, Esq., of Portland Place, and
Tuggeridgeville : Jonathan, who knows his play, can only give him
two in a game of a hundred ; and, at the cards, no man is his
superior. Verfnim sojk
" ' Scipio Americanus ' is a blockhead."
I read this out to the Count and Tagrag, and both of them
wondered huw the Editor of that tremendous Flare-up should get
THE FINISHING TOUCH 203
such information ; and botli agreed that the Baron, who still piqued
himself absurdly on his i^lay, would be vastly annoyed by seeing
me preferred thus to himself. We read him the paragi'aph, and
preciously angry he vfus. " Id is," he cried, " the tables " (or " de
dabels," as he called them), — " de horrid dables ; gom viz me to
London, and dry a slate- table, and I vill beat you." We all roared at
this ; and the end of the dispute was, that, just to satisfy the fellow,
I agreed to play his Excellency at slate-tables, or any tables he chose.
" Gut," says he, " gut ; I lif, you know, at Abcdnego's, in de
Quadrant ; his dabels is goot ; ve vill blay dere, if you vill." And
I said I would : and it was agreed that, one Saturday night, when
Jemmy was at the Opera, we should go to the Baron's rooms, and
give him a chance.
We went, and the little Baron had as fine a supper as ever I
saw : lots of champang (and I didn't mind drinking it), and plenty
of laughing and fun. Afterwards, down we went to billiards. " Is
dish Misther Coxsh, de shelebrated player?" says Mr. Abednego,
who was in the room, with one or two gentlemen of his own per-
suasion, and several foreign noblemen, dirty, snuffy, and hairy, as
them foreigners are. " Is dish Misther Coxsh 1 blesh my hart ; it
is a honer to see you ; T have heard so much of your play."
"Come, come," says I, "sir" — for I'm pretty wide awake —
" none of your gammon ; you're not going to hook me."
" No, begar, dis fish you not catch," says Count Mace.
" Dat is gut ! — haw ! haw ! " snorted the Baron. " Hook him !
Lieber Ilimmel, you might dry and hook me as well. Haw !
Haw ! "
Well, we went to play. " Five to four on Coxe," screams out
the Count. — " Done and done," says another nobleman. " Ponays,"
says the Count.— " Done," says the nobleman. "I vill take your
six cromis to four," says the Baron.—" Done," says I. And, in the
twinkling of an eye, I beat him ; once making thirteen off the balls
without stopping.
We had some more wine after this ; and if you could have
seen the long faces of the other noblemen, as they pulled out their
pencils and wrote I.O.U.'s <for the Count ! " Va toujours, mon cher,"
says he to me, " you have von for me three hundred pounds."
" I'll blay you guineas dis time," says the Baron. " Zeven to
four you must give me though." And so I did ; and- in ten minutes
that game was won, and the Baron handed over his pounds. " Tm-o
hundred and sixty more, my dear, dear Coxe," says the Count;
" you are mon ange gardien ! " " Wot a flat Misther Coxsh is,
not to back his luck," I heard Abednego whisper to one of the
foreign noblemen.
204 COX'S DIARY
"I'll take your seven to four, in tens," said I to the Baron.
" Give me three," says he, " and done." I gave him three, and
lost the game by one. " Dobbel, or quits," says he. " Go it,"
says I, up to my mettle : " Sam Coxe never says no ; " — and to it
we went. I went in, and scored eighteen to his five. " Holy
Moshesh ! " says Abednego, " dat little Coxsh is a vonder ! who'll
take odds 1 "
" I'll give twenty to one," says I, " in guineas."
" Ponays ! yase, done," screams out the Count.
" Bonies, done," roars out the Baron : and, before I could speak,
went in, and — would you believe it 1 — in two minutes he somehow
made the game !
• ••••••
Oh, what a figure I out when my dear Jemmy heard of thi.s
afterwards ! In vain I swore it wa.s guinea.s : the Count and the
Baron swore to ponies ; and when I refuseil, they both said their
honour was concenied, and they must have my life, or their money.
So when the Count showed me actually that, in spite of this bet
(which had been too good to resist) won from me, he had been a
very hejivy loser by the night ; and brought me the word of honour
of Abednego, his Jewish friend, and the foreign noblemen, that
ponies had been l>etted ; — wliy, I paid them one thousand pounds
sterling of good and lawful money. — But I've not played for money
since : no, no ; catch me at that again if you can.
MAY— A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA
NO lady is a lady without having a box at the Opera : so my
Jemmy, who knew as mucli about music, — bless her ! — as I
do about Sanscrit, algebra, or any other foreign language,
took a prime box on the second tier. It was what they called a
double box ; it really could hold two, that is, very comfortably ;
and we got it a great bargain — for five lumdred a year ! Here,
Tuesdays and Satin-days, we used regularly to take our places.
Jemmy and Jemimarann sitting in front ; me, behind : but as my
dear wife used to wear a large fantail gauze hat with ostrich
feathers, birds-of-paradise, artificial flowers, and tags of muslin or
satin, scattered all over it, I'm blest if she didn't fill the whole of
the front of the box ; and it was only by jumping and dodging,
three or four times in the (;ourse of the night, that I could manage
to get a sight of the actors. By kneeling down, and looking steady
under my darling Jemmy's sleeve, I did contrive, every now and
then, to have a peep of Senior Lablash's boots, in tlie " Puritanny,"
and once actually saw Madame Greasi's crown and head-dress in
" Annybalony."
What a place tliat Opera is, to be sure ! and what enjoyments
us aristocracy used to have ! Just as you have swallowed down
your three courses (three curses I used to call them ; — for so, indeed,
they are, causing a great deal of heartburns, headaches, doctor's
bills, pills, want of sleep, and such like) — ^just, I say, as you get
down your three courses, which I defy any man to enjoy properly
imless he has two hours of drink and quiet afterwards, up comes
the carriage, in bursts my Jemmy, as fine as a duchess, and scented
like our shop. "Come, my dear," says she, "it's 'Normy' to-
night" (or "Annybalony," or the "Nosey di Figaro," or the
" Gazzylarder," as the case may be). " Mr. Coster strikes oft
punctually at eight, and you know it's the fashion to be always
present at the very first bar of tlie aperture." And so oft' we are
obliged to budge, to be miserable for five hoiu-s and to have a
headache for the next twelve, and all because it's the fashion !
After the aperture, as they call it, comes the opera, which, as I
am given to understand, is the Italian for singing. Why they
2o6 COX'S DIARY
should sing in Italian, I can't conceive ; or why they should do
nothing but sing. Bless us ! how I iised to long for the wooden
magpie in the " Gazzylarder " to fly up to the top of the church-
steeple, with the silver spoons, and see the chaps with the pitchforks
come in and carry off that wicked Don June. Not that I don't
admire Lablash, and Rubini, and his brother, Tomrubini : him who
has that fine bass voice, I mean, and acts the Corporal in the first
piece, and Don June in the second ; but three hours is a little too
much, for you can't sleep on those little rickety seats in the boxes.
The opera is bad enough ; but what is that to the bally ? You
should have seen my Jemmy the fii-st night when she stopped to
see it ; and when Madamsalls Fanny and Theresa Hustler came
forward, along with a gentleman, to dance, you should have seen
how Jenmiy stared, and oiu" girl blushed, when Madamsall Fanny,
coming forward, stood on the tips of only five of her toes, and
raising up the other five, and the foot belonging to them, almost to
her shoulder, twirled round, and round, and round, like a teetotum,
for a cou})le of minutes or more ; and as she settled down, at last,
on both feet, in a natural decent posture, you should have heard
how the house roared with applause, the boxes clapping with all
their might, and waving their handkerchiefs ; the pit shouting
" Bravo ! " Some people, who, I sui)i)ose, were rather angry at
such an exhibition, threw bunches of flowers at her ; and what do
you think she did ? ^Vhy, hang me, if she did not come forward,
as though notliing had happened, gather up the things they had
throwni at her, smile, press them to her heart, and begin whirling
roinid again, fiister than ever. Talk about coolness, / never saw
such in all my born days.
" Nasty thing ! " says Jemmy, starting up in a fury ; " if women
will act so, it serves them right to be treated so."
" Oh yes ! she acts beautifully," says our friend his Excellency,
who, along with Baron von Punter and Tagrag, used very seldom to
miss coming to our box.
" She may act very beautifully, Munseer, but she don't dress so ;
and I am very glad they tlircw tliat orange-peel and all those things
at her, and that the people waved to her to get oti."
Here his Excellency, and the Baron and Tag, set up a roar of
laughter.
" My dear Mrs. Coxe," says Tag, " those are the most famous
dancere in the world ; and we throw myrtle, geraniums, and lilies
and roses at them, in token of our immense admiration ! "
" Well, I never ! " said my wife ; and poor Jemimarann slunk
behind the curtain, and looked as red as it almost. After, the one
had done, the next began ; but when, all of a sudden, a somebody
A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA 207
came skipping and bounding in like an Indian-rubber ball, flinging
itself up at least six feet from the stage, and there shaking about
its legs like mad, we were more astonished tlian ever !
•' That's Anatole," says one of the gentlemen.
"Anna who?" says my wife ; and she might well be mistaken :
for this person iiad a hat and feathers, a bare neck and arms, gi'eat
black ringlets, and a little calico frock, which came down to the
knees.
" Anatole. You would not think he was sixty-three years old,
he's as active as a man of twenty."
''He!" shrieked out my wife; "what, is that there a man"? For
shame, Muuseer ! Jemimarann, dear, get your cloak, and come along ;
and I'll thank you, my dear, to call our people, and let us go home."
You wouldn't think, after this, that my Jemmy, who had shown
such a horror at the bally, as they call it, should ever grow accustomed
to it ; but she liked to hear her name shoixted out in the crush-room,
and so would stop till the end of everything ; and, law bless you !
in three weeks from that time, she could look at the bally as she
would at a dancing-dog in the streets, and would bring her double-
barrelled opera-glass up to her eyes as coolly as if she had been a
born duchess. As for me, I did at Rome as Rome does ; and precious
fun it used to be, sometimes.
My friend the Baron insisted one night on my going behind the
. scenes ; where, being a subscriber, he said I had what they call my
ontray. Behind, then, I went ; and such a place you never saw
nor heard of ! Fancy lots of young and old gents of the fashion
crowding round and staring at the actresses practising their steps.
Fancy yellow snuft'y foreigners, chattering always, and smelling fear-
fully of tobacco. Fancy scores of Jews, with hooked noses and
black muzzles, covered with rings, chains, sham diamonds, and gold
waistcoats. Fancy old men dressed in old nightgowns, witli knock-
knees, and dirty flesh-coloured cotton stockings, and dabs of brickdust
on their wrinkled old chops, and tow-wigs (such wigs !) for the bald
ones, and great tin spears in their hands mayhap, or else shepherd's
crooks, and fusty garlands of flowers made of red and green baize.
Fancy troops of girls giggling, chattering, pushing to and fro, amidst
old black canvas, Gothic halls, thrones, pasteboard, Cupids, dragons,
and such like. Such dirt, darkness, crowd, confusion and gabble of
all conceivable languages was never known !
If you could but have seen Munseer Anatole ! Instead of looking
twenty he looked a thousand. The old man's wig was ofl", an(l a
barber was giving it a touch with the tongs ; Munseer was taking
snuff" himself, anil a boy was standing by with a pint of beer from
the public-house at the corner of Charles Street.
2o8 COX'S DIARY
«
I met with a little accident during the three-quarters of an hour
which they allow for the entertainment of us men of fashion on the
stage, before the curtain draws up for the bally, while the ladies in
the boxes are gaping, and the people in the pit are drumming with
their feet and canes in the rudest manner possible, as though they
couldn't wait.
Just at the moment before the little bell rings and the curtain
flies up, and we scvtffle off" to the sides (for we always stay till the
very last moment), I was in the middle of the stage, making myself
very affable to tlie fair figgerantys which w\as spinning and twirling
about me, and asking them if they wasn't cold, and such like polite-
ness, in the most condescending way possible, when a bolt was
suddenly withdrawn, and down I popped, through a trap in the
stage, into the place below. Luckily, I was stopped by a piece of
machinery, consisting of a heap of green blankets, and a yoimg lady
coming up as Venus rising from the sea. If I had not follen so soft,
I don't know what might Jiave been the consequence of the collusion.
I never told Mrs. Coxe, for she can't bear to hear of my paying the
least attention to the fair sex.
JUNE— STRIKING A BALANCE
NEXT door to us, in Portland Place, lived the Right Honour-
able the Earl of Kilblazes, of Kilniacrasy Castle, county Kil-
dare, and his mother, the Dowager Countess. Lady Kilblazes
had a daughter, Lady Juliana Matilda Mac Turk, of the exact age
of our dear Jemimarann ; and a son, the Honouralilc Arthur AVcl-
lington Anglesey Blucher Bulow Mac Turk, only ten months older
than our boy Tug.
My darling Jemmy is a woman of spirit, and, as become
her station, made every possible attempt to become acquainted
with the Dowager Countess of Kilblazes, which her Ladyship
(because, forsooth, she was the daughter of the Minister, and
Prince of Wales's great friend, the Earl of Portansherry) thought
tit to reject. I don't wonder at my Jemmy growing so angry
with her, and determining, in every way, to put her Ladyship
down. The Kilblazes estate is not so large as the Tuggeridge
property by two thousand a year at least ; and so my wife, Avhen
our neighbours kept only two footmen, was quite authorised in
having three ; and she made it a point, as soon as ever the
Kilblazes' carriage-and-pair came round, to liave out her own
carriage-and-four.
Well, our box was next to theirs at the Opera ; only twice as
big. Whatever masters went to Lady Juliana, came to my Jemimar-
ann ; and what do you think Jemmy did % she got her celebrated
governess, Madame de Flicllac, away from the Countess, by offering
a double salary. It was quite a treasure, they said, to have Madame
Flicfiac : she had been (to support her father, the Count, when he
emigrated) a French dancer at the Italian Opera. French <lancing,
and Italian, therefore, we had at once, and in the best style : it is
astonishing how quick and well she used to speak — the French
especially.
Master Ai-thur Mac Turk was at the famous school of the
Reverend Clement Coddler, along with a hundred and ten other
young fashionables, from the age of three to fifteen ; and to this
establishment Jemmy sent our Tug, adding forty guineas to the
hundred and twenty paid every year for the boarders. I think J
2IO COX'S DIARY
found out the dear soul's reason ; for, one day, speaking about the
school to a mutual acquaintance of ours and the Kilblazes, she
whispered to him that " she never would have thought of sending
her darling boy at the rate which her next-door neighbours paid ;
their lad, she was sure, must be starved : however, poor people, they
did the best they could on their income ! "
Coddler's, in fact, was the tiptop school near London : he had
been tutor to the Duke of Buckminster, who had set him up in the
school, and, as I tell you, all the peerage and respectable commoners
came to it. You read in the bill (the snopsis, I think, Coddler
called it), after the iiccount of the charges for board, masters,
extras, &c. —
" Every young nobleman (or gentleman) is expected to bring a
knife, fork, spoon, and goblet of silver (to prevent breakage), which
will not be returned ; a dressing-gown and slippers ; toilet-box,
pomatum, curling-irons, &c. &c. The pupil must on no account
be allowed to have more than ten guineas of pocket-money, unless
his parents particularly desire it, or he be above fifteen years of age.
Wine will be an extra charge ; as are warm, vapour, and douche
baths. Carriage exercise will be jirovided at the rate of fifteen
guineas per quarter. It is earnestly requested that no young noble-
man (or gentleman) be allowed to smoke. In a place devoted to
the cultivation of polite Uterattire, such an ignoble enjoyment
were profane.
" Clement Coddler, M.A.,
" Chaplain and late Tutor to his Grace the
Duke of Buckminster.
"Mount Parnassus,
Richmond, Surrey."
To tliis establishment our Tug was sent. " Recollect, my dear,"
said his mamma, " tliat you are a Tuggeridge by birth, and that
I expect you to beat all the boys in the school ; especially that
Wellington Mac Turk, who, though he is a lord's son, is notliing to
you, who are the heir of Tuggeridge ville."
Tug was a smart young fellow enough, and could cut and curl
as well as any young chap of his age : he was not a bad hand at a
wig either, and could shave, too, very prettily ; but that was in the
old time, when we were not great i)eople : when he came to be a
gentleman, he had to learn Latin and Greek, and had a deal of lost
time to make up for, on going to school.
However, we had no fear; for the Reverend Mr. Coddler used
STRIKING A BALANCE 211
to send monthly accoinits of liis pupil's progress, and if Tug was
not a wonder of the world, I don't know who was. It was —
General behaviour .... excellent.
English very good.
French trfes bien.
Latin ...... optim^.
And so on : — he possessed all the virtues, and wrote to us every
month for money. My dear Jemmy and I determined to go and
see him, after he had been at school a quarter ; we went, and were
shown by Mr. Coddler, one of the meekest smilingest little men I
ever saw, into the bedrooms and eating-rooms (the dromitaries and
refractories he called them), which were all as comfortable as com-
fortable might be. "It is a holiday to-day," said Mr. Coddler; and
a holiday it seemed to be. In the dining-ro(3m were half-a-dozen
young gentlemen playing at cards (" All tip-top nobility," observed
Mr. Coddler) ; — in the bedrooms there was only one gent : he was
lying on his bed, reading novels and smoking cigars. " Extra-
ordinary genius ! " whisjiered Coddler. " Honoura1)le Tom Fitz-
Warter, cousin of Loi'd Byron's ; smokes all day ; and has written
the sweetest poems you can imagine. Genius, my dear madam, you
know — genius nuist have its way." "Well, upon my word," says
Jemmy, " if that's genius, I had rather that Master Tuggeridge
Coxe Tuggeridge remained a dull fellow."
" Impossible, my dear madam," said Coddler. " Mr, Tuggeridge
Coxe couldnH be stupid if he tried."
Just then up comes Lord Claude Lollypop, third son of the
Marquis of Allycompane. We were introduced instantly : " Lord
Claude Lollypop, Mr. and Mrs. Coxe." The little lord wagged his
head, my wife bowed very low, and so did Mr. Coddler ; who, as he
saw my Lord making for the playground, begged him to show us
the way. — " Come along," says my Lord ; and as he walked before
us, whistling, we had leisure to remark the beautiful holes in his
jacket, and elsewhere.
About twenty young noblemen (and gentlemen) were gathered
round a pastrycook's shop at the end of the green. "That's th«
grub-shop," said my Lord, "where we young gentlemen wot haa
money buys our wittles, and them young gentlemen wot has none,
goes tick."
Then we passed a poor red-haired usher sitting on a bench
alone. "That's Mr. Hicks, the Husher, ma'am," says my Lord.
"We keep him, for he's very useful to throw stones at, and he
keeps the chaps' coats when there's a fight, or a game at cricket. —
ii2 COX'S DIARY
Well, Hicks, how's your motlierl what's the row now?" "T
believe, my Lord," said the usher, very meekly, "there is a
pugilistic encounter somewhere on the premises — the Honourable
Mr. Mac "
"Oh! come along," said Lord Lollypop, "come along: this
way, ma'am ! Go it, ye cripples ! " And my Lord pulled my dear
Jemmy's gown in the kindest and most familiar way, she trotting
on after him, mightily pleased to be so taken notice of, and I after
her. A little boy wont running across tlie green. "Who is it,
Petitoes?" screams my Lord. " Tiu-k and the barber," pipes
Petitoe», and runs to the pastrycook's like mad. "Turk and the
ba ," laughs out my Lord, looking at us. "Hurra! thh way,
ma'am ! " And turning round a comer, he opened a door into a
courtyard, where a number of boys were collected, and a great noise
of shrill voices might be heard. " Go it, Turk ! " siiys one. " Go it,
barber!" says another. ^^ Punch hith life out!" roars another,
whose voice was just cracked, and liis clothes lialf a yard too sliort
for him !
Fancy oiu* horror when, on the crowd making way, we saw Tug
pummelling away at the Honourable Master ]Mac Turk ! ]\[y dear
Jemmy, who don't imderstand suih tl)ings, jxiuuced upon the two
at once, and, vdt\\ one liand tearing away Tug, sent liim spinning
back into the arms of his seconds, wliile with the other, slie clawed
hold of Master Mac Turk's red liair, and, as so«in as she got her
second hand free, banged it about Iiis face and ears like a good one.
"You nasty — wicked — quaiTclsome — aristocratic" (each wonl
was a bang) — " aristocratic — oh ! oh ! oli ! " — Here tlie words
stopped ; for what with the agitation, maternal solicitude, and a
dreadful kick oji the shins wliich, I am a.'ihamed to eay, Master
Mac Turk adniinistered, my dear Jemmy could bear it no longer,
and sank fainting away in my arms.
JULY— DOWN AT BEULAH
ALTHOUGH there was a regular cut between the next-door
Z-\ peoj)le and us, yet Tug and the Honourable Master Mac
•* *■ Turk ke])t up their acquaintance over the back-garden wall,
and in the stables, where they were fighting, making friends, and
playing tricks from morning to night, duiing the holidays. Indeed,
it was from young ]\Iac that we first heard of Madame de Flicflac,
of whom my Jemmy robbed Lady Kilblazes, as I before have related.
When our friend the Baron first saw Madame, a very tender greeting
passed between them ; for tliey had, as it appeared, been old friends
abroad. " Sapristi," said the Baron, in his lingo, " que fais-tu ici,
Am^naide 1 " " Et toi, mon pauvi-e Chicot," says she, " est-ce qu'on
t'a mis h, la retraitel U parait que tu n'es plus Gdndral chez
Franco " " Chut ! " says the Baron, putting his finger to his
lips.
"What are they saying, my dear?" says my wife to Jemimarann,
who had a i)retty knowledge of the language by this time.
" I don't know what ' Sapristi ' means, mamma ; but the Baron
asked Madame what she was doing here ; and Madame said, ' And
you, Chicot, you are no more a General at Franco ? '- — Have I not
translated rightly, Madame 1 "
"Qui, mon chou, mon ange. Yase, my angel, my cabbage,
quite right. Figure yourself, I have known my dear Chicot dis
twenty years."
"Chicot is my name of baptism," says the Baron; "Baron
Chicot de Punter is my name."
"And being a General at Franco," says Jemmy, "means, I
suppose, being a French General ? "
" Yes, I vas," said he, " General Baron de Punter — n'est 'a pas,
Amendide ?"
" Oh yes ! " said Madame Flicflac, and laughed ; and I and
Jemmy laughed out of politeness: and a pretty laughing matter
it was, as you shall hear.
About this time my Jemmy became one of the Lady-Patronesses
of that admirable institution, "The Washerwoman's-Orphans'
Home ; " Lady de Sudley was the great projector of it ; and the
214 COX'S DIARY
manager and chaplain, the excellent and Reverend Sidney Slopper.
His salary as chaplain, and that of Doctor Leitch, the physician
(both cousins of her Ladyship's), drew away five hundred pounds
from the six subscribed to the charity ; and Lady de Sudley thought
a fete at Beulah Si)a, viith. the aid of some of the foreign princes
who were in town last year, might bring a little more money into
its treasury. A tender appeal was accordingly drawn up, and
published in all the papers.
" APPEAL.
" British Washerwoman's-Orphans' Home.
"The ' Washerwoman's-Orphans' Home' has now been estab-
lislied seven years : and the good which it has effected is, it may
be confidently stated, {ncalculahle. Ninety-eight orphan cliildren
of Washerwomen have been lodged within its walls. One liundrcd
and two British Washerwomen have been relieved when in the last
stage of decay. One hundred and ninety-eight thousand
articles of male and female dress have been washed, mended,
buttoned, ironed, and mangled in the Establishment. And, by
an arrangement with the goveniors of the Foundling, it is hoped
that the Baby-linen of that Hospital will be confided to the
British Washerwoman's Home !
"With such prospects before it, is it not sad, is it not lament-
able to think, tliat the Patronesses of the Society have been com-
pelled to reject the api)lications of no less than three thousand
eight hundred and one British Washerwomen, from lack of
means for their support? Ladies of England! Mothers of England!
to you Ave ai)peal. Is there one of you tnat Avill not respond to the
cry in behalf of these deserAnng members of our sex 1
" It has been determined by the Ladies-Patronesses to give a
fete at Beulah Spa, on Thursday, July 25 ; which will be graced
with the first foreign and native talent ; by the first foreign and
native rank; and where they beg for the attendance of every
Washerwoman's friend."
Her Highness the Princess of Schloppenzollemschwigmaringen,
the Duke of Sacks-Tubbingen, His Excellency Baron Strumpff", His
Excellency Lootf-Allee-Koolee-Bismillah-Moliamed-Rusheed-Allah, the
Persian Ambassador, Prince Futtee-Jaw, Envoy from the King of
Oude, His Excellency Don Alonzo di Cachacliero-y-Fandango-y-
Castafiete, the Spanish Ambassador, Count Ravioli, from Milan, the
Envoy of the Republic of Topinambo, and a host of other fashion-
DOWN AT BEULAH 215
ables promisetl to honour the festival : and their names made a
famous show in the bills. Besides these we had the celebrated band
of Moscow-musiks, the seventy-seven Transylvanian trumpeters, and
the famous Bohemian Minnesingers ; with all the leading artists of
London, Paris, the Continent, and the rest of Europe.
I leave you to fancy what a splendid triumph for the British
Washerwoman's Home was to come otf on that day. A beautiful
tent was erected, in which the Ladies-Patronesses were to meet : it
was hung round with specimens of the skill of the Washerwomen's
orphans ; ninety-six of whom were to be feasted in the gardens, and
waited on by the Ladies-Pati'onesses.
Well, Jemmy and my daughter, Madame de Flictlac, myself,
the Count, Baron Punter, Tug, and Tagrag, all went down in the
chariot and barouche-and-four, quite eclipsing imor Lady Kilblazes
and her carriage-and-two.
There was a fine cold collation, to which the friends of the
Ladies -Patronesses were admitted; after which my ladies and
their beaux Avent strolling through the walks ; Tagrag and the Count
having each an arm of Jemmy ; the Baron giving an arm apiece to
Madame and Jemimarann. Whilst they were walking, whom should
they light upon but i)oor Orlando Crump, my successor in the i)er-
fumery and haircutting.
" Orlando ! " says Jemimarann, blushing as red as a label, and
holding out her hand.
" Jeraimar ! " says he, holding out his, and turning as white as
pomatum.
" Sir ! " says Jemmy, as stately as a duchess.
" What ! madam," says poor Crump, " don't y<iu remember your
shopboy 1 "
"Dearest mamma, don't you recollect Orlando?" whimpers
Jemimarann, whose hand he had got hold of.
" Miss Tuggeridge Coxe," says Jemmy, " Pm surprised at you.
Remember, sir, that our i)osition is altered, and oblige me by no
more tamiliarity."
" Insolent fellow ! " says the Baron, " vat is dis canaille 1 "
"Canal yourself, Mounseer," says Orlando, now grown quite
furious : he broke away, ciuite indignant, and was soon lost in the
crowd. Jemimarann, as soon as he was gone, began to look very
pale and ill ; and her mamma, therefore, took her to a tent, where
she left her along with Madame Flicfiac and the Baron ; going off
herself with the other gentlemen, in order to join us.
It appears they had not been seated very long, when IMadame
Flicflac suddenly sprang up, with an exclamation of joy, and rushed
forward to a friend whom she saw pass.
2i6 COX'S DIARY
The Baron was left alone with Jemimarann , and whether it was
the champagne, or that my dear girl looked more than commonly
pretty, I don't know; but Madame Flicfiac had not been gone a
minute, when the Baron dropped on his knees, and made her a
regular declaration.
Poor Orlando Crump had found me out by this time, and was
standing by my side, listening, as melancholy as possible, to the
famous Boliemian Minnesingers, who were singing the celebrated
words of the poet Gothy : —
" Ich bin ya hupp lily lee, du bist ya hupp lily lee,
Wir sind doch hupp lily lee, hupp la lily lee.
Chorus. — Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle hupp !
yodlc-odle-aw-o-o-o ! "
They were standing with their hands in thoir waistcoats, as usual,
and had just come to the " o-o-o,'' at the end of the chorus of the
forty-seventh stanza, when Orlando started : " That's a scream ! "
says he. " Indeed it is," says I ; " and, but for the fashion of the
thing, a very ugly scream too : " when I heard another shrill '' Oh ! "
as I tiiought; and Orlando bolted off, crying, "By heavens, it's her
voice ! " " Whose voice 1 " says I. " Come and see the row," says
Tag. And off we went, with a (.-onsiderable number of people, who
saw this strange move on his part.
We came to the tent, and there we found my poor Jemimarann
fainting ; her mamma holding a smelling-bottle ; tlie Baron, on the
ground, holding a handkerchief to his ])leeding nose ; and Orlando
squaring at liim, and calling on him to fight if he dared.
My Jennny looked at Crump very fierce. " Take that feller
away," says she ; "he has insulted a French nobleman, and deserves
transportation, at the least."
Poor Orlando was carried off. " I've no patience with the little
minx," says Jemmy, giving Jemimarann a pinch. " She might be
a Baron's lady ; and she screams out because his Excellency did but
squeeze her hand."
" Oh, mamma ! mamma ! " sobs poor Jemimarann, " but he was
t-t-tipsy."
" f-t-tipsy ! and the more shame for you, you hussy, to be
offended with a nobleman who does not know what he is doing."
AUGUST— A TOURNAMENT
I SAY, Tug," said Mac Turk, one day soon after our flare-up at
Beulah, "Kilblazes comes of age in October, aud then -we'll cut
you out, as I told you : the old barbercss will die of spite when
she hears what w^e are going to do. What do you think? we're
going to have, a tournament ! " " What's a tournament ? " says Tug,
and so said his mamma when she heard the news ; and wlien she
knew what a tournament was, I think, really, she tvas as angry as
Mac Turk said she would be, an(l gave us no peace for days together.
" What ! " says she, " dress up in armour, like play-actors, and run
at each other with spears "? The Kilblazes must be mad ! " And
so I thought, Init I didn't think the Tuggeridges would be mad too,
as they were : for, when Jemmy heard that the Kilblazes' festival
was to be, as yet, a profound secret, what does she do, but send
down to the Mornmg Post a flaming account of
" THE PASSAGE OP ARMS AT TUGGEEIDGEVILLE !
'• The days of chivalry are not past. The fair Castellane of
T-gg-r-dgeville, whose splendid entertainments have so often been
alluded to in this paper, has determined to give one, which shall
exceed in splendour even the magnificence of the Middle Ages.
We are not at liberty to say more ; but a tournament, at which
His Ex-l-ncy B-r-n de P-nt-r and Thomas T-gr-g, Esq., eldest
son of Sir Th — s T-gr-g, are to be the knights-defendants against all
comers ; a Queen of Beauty, of whose loveliness every frequenter of
fashion has felt the power ; a banquet, unexampled in the annals of
Gunter ; and a ball, in which the recollections of ancient chivalry
will blend sweetly with the soft tones of Weippert and Collinet, are
among the entertainments which the Ladye of T-gg-ridgeville has
prepared for her distinguished guests."
The Baron was the life of the scheme : he longed to be on horse-
back, and in the field at Tuggeridgeville, where he, Tagrag, and a
number of our friends practised : he was the very best filter present ;
he vaulted over his horse, and played such wonderful antics, as
never were done except at Ducrow's.
«i8 COX'S DIARY
And now — oh that I had twenty pages, instead of this short
chapter, to describe tlie wonders of the day ! — Twenty-four kniglits
came from Asliley's at two guineas a head. We were in hopes to
have had Miss Woolford in tlie character of Joan of Arc, but that
lady did not appear. We had a tent for tlie cliallengers, at each
side of which hung what they called escoachings (like hatchments,
which they put up when people die), and underneath sat their
pages, holding their helmets for the tournament. Tagrag Avas in
brass-armour (my City connections got him that f;imous suit) ; his
Excellency in polished steel. ]\Iy wife wore a coronet, modelled
exactly after that of Queen Catharine, in " Henry V. " ; a tight gilt
jacket, which set off dear Jemmy's figure wonderfully, and a train
of at least forty feet. Dear Jcmimarann was in white, her hair
braided with pearls. Madame de Flicflac appeared as Queen Eliza-
beth ; and Lady Blanche Bluenose as a Turkish Princess. An alder-
man of London and his lady ; two magistrates of the county, and
the very pink of Croydon j several Polish noblemen ; two Italian
Counts (besides our Count) ; one hundred and ten young ofhcers,
from Addiscniiibe College, in full uniform, commanded by Major-
Gencral Sir ]\Iiles MuUigatawney, K.C.B., and his lady; the Misses
Pimminy's Finishing Establishment, and fourteen young ladies, all
in white ; the Reverend Doctor Wapshot, and forty-nine young
gentlemen, of the first families, under his charge — were some only
of the company. I leave you to fancy tluit, if my Jemmy did seek
for fashion, she had enough of it on this occasion. They wanted me
to have moimtcd again, but my hunting-day had been sutticient ;
besides, I ain't big enough for a real knight : so, as Mrs. Coxe in-
sisted on my opening the Tournament — and I knew it was in vain
to resist — the Baron and Tagrag hatl imtlertaken to arrange so that
I might come off with safety, if I came off at all. Tiiey had pro-
cured from the Strand Tlieatre a fomous stud of hobby-horses, which
they told me had been trained for the use of the great Lord Bate-
man. I did not know exactly what tliey were till they arrived ;
but as they had belonged to a lord, I thought it was all right, and
consented ; and I found it the best sort of riding, after all, to appear
to be on hoi-seback and walk safely a-foot at the same time ; and it
was impossible to come down as long as I kept on my own legs :
besides, I could cidf and pull my steed about as nuich a.s I liked,
without fear of his biting or kicking in return. As Lord of the
Tournament, they ]ilaced in my hands a lance, ornamented spirally,
in blue and gold : I tliou^dit of the pole over my old shop door, and
almost wished myself there again, as I capered up to the battle in
my helmet and breast-plate, with all the tnimpets blowing and
jlrums beating at the time. Captain Tagrag was my opponent, and
a
ft
H
O
50
A TOURNAMENT 219
preciously we poked each other, till, prancing about, I ]mt mj- foot
on my horse's petticoat behind, and down I came, getting a thrust
from tlie Captain, at the same time, tliat almost broke my shoukler-
bone. "This was sufficient," they said, "for the laws of chivalry;"
and I was glad to get off so.
After that the gentlemen riders, of whom there were no less than
seven, in comidete armour, and the professionals, now ran at the
ring ; and the Baron was far, far the most skilful.
" How sweetly the dear Baron rides ! " said my wife, who was
always ogling at him, smirking, smiling, and waving her handkerchief
to him. "I say, Sam," says a professional to one of his friends,
as, after their course, they came cantering tip, and ranged under
Jemmy's bower, as she called it : — " I say, Sam, I'm blowed if that
chap in harmer mustn't have been one of hus." And this only made
Jemmy the more pleased ; for the fact is, the Baron had chosen the
best way of winning Jemimarann by courting her mother.
The Baron w^as declared conqueror at the ring ; and Jemmy
awarded him the prize, a wreath of white roses, wiiich she placed
on his lance ; he receiving it gracefully, and bowing, until the
plumes of his helmet mingled with the mane of his charger, which
backed to the other end of the lists ; then galloping back to the
place where Jemimarann was seated, he begged her to place it on
his helmet. The poor girl blushed very much, and did so. As
all the people were applauding, Tagrag rushed n\), and, laying his
hand on the Baron's shoulder, w^hispered something in his ear,
which made the other very angry, I suppose, for he shook him off
violently. "Chacun, jwvr sni," says he, "Monsieur de Taguerague,"
— which means, I am told, " Every man for himself." And then he
rode away, throwing his lance in the air, catching it, and making his
horse caper and prance, to the admiration of all beh(ildei-s.
After this came the " Passage of Arms." Tagrag and the Baron
ran courses against the other champions ; ay, and uidiorsed two
apiece ; whereupon the other three refused to turn out ; and pre-
ciously we laughed at them, to be sure !
"Now, it's our turn, Mr. Chicot" says Tagrag, shaking his fist
at the Baron : " look to yourself, you infernal mountebank, for, by
Jupiter, I'll do my best ! " And before Jemmy and the rest of us,
who were quite bewildered, coidd say a word, these two friends were
charging away, spears in hand, ready to kill each other. In vain
Jemmy screamed ; in vain I threw down my truncheon : they had
broken two poles before I coul<l say " Jack Robinson," and were
driving at each other with the two new ones. The Baron had the
worst of the fii'st course, for he had almost been carried out of his
saddle. "Hark you, Chicot!" screamed out Tagrag, "next time
220 COX'S DIARY
look to your head ! " And next time, sure enough, each aimed at
the head of the other.
Tagrag's spear hit the right place ; for it carried off the Baron's
helmet, plume, rose-"WTeath and all ; but his Excellency hit truer
still — his lance took Tagrag on the neck, and sent him to the ground
like a stone.
" He's won ! he's won ! " says Jemmy, wa^^ng her handkerchief;
Jemimarann fainted, Lady Blanche screamed, and I felt so sick that
I thought I should drop. All the company were in an uproar :
only the Baron looked calm, and bowed very gi-acefully, and kissed
his hand to Jemmy ; when, all of a sudden, a Jewish-looking man
springing over the barrier, and followed by three more, rushed
towards the Baron. " Keep the gate, Bob ! " he holloas out.
"Baron, I arrest you, at the suit of Samuel Levison, for — —"
But he never said for what ; shouting out, " Aha ! " and " Sap-
prrrristie!" and I don't know what, his Excellency drew his sword,
dug his spurs into his horse, and was over the poor bailiff, and off
before another word. He had threatened to run through one of the
bailiff's followers, Mr. Stubbs, only that gentleman made way for
him ; and when we took up the bailiff, and lirought him round by
the aid of a little brandy-and-water, he told us all. " I had a
WTit againsht him, Mishter Coxsh, but I didn't vant to shpoil
shport ; and, beshidesh, I didn't know him imtil dey knocked off his
Bhteel cap ! "
Here was a pretty business !
SEPTEMBER—OVER-BOARDED AND
UNDER-LODGED
WE had no great reason to brag of our tournament at
Tuggeridgeville : but, after all, it was better than the
turn-out at Kilblazes, where poor Lord Heydownderry
went about in a blurk velvet dressing-gown, and the Emperor
Napoleon Bony})art ai)peared in a suit of armour and silk stockings,
like Mr. Pell's friend in Pickwick. We, having employed the
gentlemen from Astley's Antitheatre, had some decent sport for
our money.
We never heai'd a word from the Baron, who had so distinguished
himself by his horsemanship, and had knocked down (and very
justly) Mr. Nabb, the bailiff, and Mr. Stubbs liis man, who came
to lay hands upon him. My sweet Jemmy seemed to be very low
in spirits after his departure, and a sad thing it is to see her in low
spirits : on daysof illness she no more minds giving Jemimarann a
box on the ear, or sending a plate of muffins across a table at poor
me, than she does taking her tea.
Jemmy, I say, was very low in spirits; but, one day (I remember
it was the day after Captain Higgins called, and said he had seen
the Baron at Boulogne), she vowed that nothing but change of air
would do her good, and declared that she should die unless she went
to the seaside in France. I knew what this meant, and that I
might as well attempt to resist her as to resist Her Gracious Majesty
in Parliament assembled; so I told the people to pack up the things,
and took four places on board the Grand Turk steamer for
Boulogne.
The travelling-carriage, which, with Jemmy's thirty-seven boxes
and my carpet-bag, was pretty well loaded, was sent on board the
night before ; and we, after breakfasting in Portland Place (little
did I think it was the — but, poh ! never mind) went down to tlie
Custom House in the other carriage, followed by a hackney-coach
and a cab, with the servants, and fourteen bandboxes and trunks
more, which were to be wanted by my dear girl in the journey.
The road down Cheapside and Thames Street need not be
described ; we saw the Monument, a memento of the wicked Popish
18
222 COX'S DIARY
massacre of St. Bartholomew ; — why erected here I can't thiuk,
as St. Bartholomew is in Smithfield ; — we had a glimpse of
Billingsgate, and of the Mansion House, wliere we saw the two-
and-tweuty-shilling-coal smoke coming out of the chimneys, and
were landed at the Custom House in safety. I felt melancholy, for
we were going among a people of swindlers, as all Frenchmen are
thought to be.; and, besides not being able to speak the language,
leaving our own dear country and honest countrymen.
Fourteen porters came out, and each took a package with the
greatest civility ; calling Jemmy her Ladyship, and me your honour;
ay, and your-honouring and my-Ladyshipping even my man and the
maid in the cab. I somehow felt all over quite melancholy at going
away. " Here, my fine fellow," says I to the coachman, who was
standing very respectful, holding his hat in one hand and Jemmy's
jewel-case in the other — " Here, my fine chap," says I, " here's six
shillings for you ; " for I did not care for the money.
" Six what 1 " says he.
" Six shillings, fellow," shrieks Jemmy, " and twice as much as
your fare."
" Feller, marm ! " says this insolent coachman. " Feller your-
self, marm : do you think I'm ar-going to kill my horses, and break
my precious back, and bust my carriage, and carry you, and your
kids, and your traps, for six hog?" And with this the monster
dropped his hat, Avitli my money in it, and doubling his fist, put it
so very near my nose that I really thuuglit he would have made it
bleed. " My fare's heighteen shillings," says he, " hain't it 1 — hask
hany of tliese gentlemen."
"Wliy, it ain't more than seventeen-and-six," says one of the
fourteen portere ; "but if the gen'l'man is a gen'l'man, he can't give
no less than a suftering anyhow."
I wanted to resist, and Jemmy screamed like a Turk ; but,
" Holloa ! " says one. " What's the row 1 " says another. " Come,
dub vip ! " roars a third. And I don't mind telling you, in confidence,
that I was .so frightened that I took out the sovereign and gave it.
]\Iy man and Jemmy's maid had disappeared by this time : they
always do when there's a robbery or a row going on.
I was going after them. " Stop, Mr. Ferguson," pipes a young
gentleman of about thirteen, with a red livery waistcoat that reached
to his ankles, and every variety of button, pin, string, to keep it
together. " Stop, Mr. Heff"," says he, taking a small pipe out of his
mouth, "and don't forgit the cabman."
" Wliat's your fare, my lad ? " says I.
" Why, let's see — yes — ho ! — my fare's seven-and-thirty and
eightpeuce eggs — acly."
S3
I
OYER-BOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED 223
The fourteen gentlemen liolding the luggage liere burst out and
laughed very rudely indeed; and the only j)er.son who seemed dis-
appointed was, I thouglit, the harkncy-coachiiian. " Why, you
rascal ! " says Jemmy, laying hold of the boy, " do you want more
than the coachman ? "
"Don't rascal me, mann ! " shrieks tlie little clia]) in return.
" What's the coach to me 1 Vy, you may go in an omnibus for
sixpence if you like ; vy don't you go and buss it, marm ? Vy did
you call my cab, marm 1 Vy am I to come forty mile, from Scarlot
Street, Po'tl'nd Street, Po'tl'nd Place, and not git my fare, marm 1
Come, give me a suffering and a half, and don't keep my boss
a-vaiting all day." This speech, which takes some time to write
down, was made in about the fifth i)art of a second ; and, at the
end of it, the young gentleman hurled down his ]>ii>e, and, advancing
towards Jemmy, doubled Iris fist, and seemed to challenge her to
fight.
My dearest girl now turned from red to be as pale as white
Windsor, and fell into my arms. What was I to dol I called
" Policeman ! " but a policeman won't interfere in Thames Street ;
robbery is licensed there. What was I to do ? Oh ! my heart
beats with paternal gratitude when I think of wliat my Tug did !
As soon as this young cab-chap put himself into a fighting
attitude, Master Tuggeridge Coxe — who had been standing by
laughing very rudely, I thought^Master Tuggeridge Coxe, I say,
flung his jacket suddenly into his mamma's face (the brass buttons
made her start and recovered her a little), and, before we could say
a word, was in the ring in which we stood (formed by the porters,
nine orangemen and women, I don't know how nian>- news])a]>er-
boys, hotel-cads, and old-clothesmen), and, whirling about two little
white fists in the 'face of the gentleman in the red waistcoat, ^\ho
brought up a great pair of black ones to bear on the enemy, was
engaged in an instant.
But la bless you ! Tug hadn't been at Richmond School for
nothing; and milled away— one, two, right and left — like a little
hero as he is, with all his dear mother's spirit in him. First came
a crack which sent a long dusky white hat -that looked (lamj) and
deep like a well, and had a long black crape-rag twisted round it-
first came a crack which sent this white hat sjjinning over the
gentleman's cab, and scattered among the crowd a vast number of
things which the cabman kept in it,— such as a l)all of string, a
piece of candle, a comb, a whip-lash, a Little Warbler, a slice of
bacon, &c. &c. _
The cabman seemed sadly ashamed of this display, but Tug
gave him no time : another blow was planted on his cheek-bone ;
224 COX'S DIARY
and a third, -which hit hrtn straight on the nose, sent this rude
cabman straight down to the ground.
" Braj^^o, my Lord ! " shouted all the people around.
" I won't have no more, thank yer," said the little cabman,
gathering himself up. " Give us over my fare, vil yer, and let me
git away 1 "
"What's yoiu- fare noic, you cowardly little thief?" says Tug.
" Vy, then, two-and-eightpence," says he. " Go along, — you
know it is ! " And two-and-eightpence he had ; and everybody
applauded Tug, and hissed the cab-boy, and asked Tug for some-
tliing to drink. We heard the packet-bell ringing, and all ran down
the stairs to be in time.
I now thought our troubles would soon be over ; mine were,
very nearly so, in one sense at least : for after Mrs. Coxe and
Jeniiinarann, and Tug, and the maid, and valet, and valuables had
been handed across, it came to my turn. I had often heard of
people being taken up by a Plank, but seldom of their being set
down by one. Just as I was going over, the vessel rode off a little,
the board slipped, and dowTi I soused into the water. You might
have heard Mrs. Coxe's shriek as far as Gravesend ; it rang in my
ears as I went down, all grieved at the thought of lea\ing her a
disconsolate widder. Well, up I came again, and caught the brim
of my beaver-hat — though I have heard that drowning men catch at
straws : — I floated, and hoped to escape by hook or by crook ; and,
luckily, just then, I felt myself suddenly jerked by the waist-band
of my whites, and found myself hauled up in the air at the end of a
boat-hook, to the sound of " Ycho ! yeho ! yehoi ! yehoi ! " and so I
was dragged aboard. I was put to bed, and had swallowed so
much water that it took a very considerable rpiautity of lirandy to
bring it to a proper mixture in my inside. In fact, for some hours
I was in a very deplorable state.
OCTOBER— NOTICE TO QUIT
WELL, we arrived at Boulogne ; and Jemmy, after making
inquiries, right and left, about the Baron, found that no
such jjerson was known there : and being bent, I suppose,
at all events, on marrying her daughter to a lord, she determined to
set off for Paris, where, as he had often said, he possessed a magnifi-
cent hotel he called it ; — and I rememlier Jemmy being mightily
indignant at the idea; but hotel, we found afterwards, means only
a house in French, and this reconciled her. Need I describe the
road from Boulogne to Paris ? or need I describe that Capitol itself?
Suffice it to say, that we made our appearance there, at " Murisse's
Hotel," as became the family of Coxe Tuggeridge ; and saw every-
thing worth seeing in the metropolis in a week. It nearly killed
me, to be sure ; but, when you're on a pleasiu-e party in a foreign
country, you must not mind a little inconvenience of this sort.
Well, there is, near the city of Paris, a splendid road and row
of trees, which — I don't know why — is called the Shaudeleezy, or
Elysian Fields, in French : others, I have heard, call it the Shande-
leery ; but mine I know to be the correct pronunciation. In the
middle of this Shandeleezy is an open space of ground and a tent
where, during the summer, Mr. Franconi, the French Ashley, per-
forms with his horses and things. As everybody went there, and
we were told it was quite the thing, Jemmy agreed that we should
go too ; and go w^e did.
It's just like Ashley's : there's a man just like Mr. Piddicombe,
who goes round the ring in a huzzah-dress, cracking a whip ; there
are a dozen Miss Woolfords, who appear like Polish princesses,
Dihannas, Sultannas, Cachuchas, and Heaven knows what ! There's
the fat man, who comes in with the twenty- three dresses on, and
turns out to be the living skeleton ! There's the clowns, the sawdust,
the white horse that dances a homi^ipe, the candles stuck in hoops,
just as in om* own dear country.
My dear wife, in her very finest clothes, with all the world
looking at her, was really enjoying this spectacle (which doesn't
require any knowledge of the language, seeing that the dumb animals
don't talk it), when there came in, presently, " the great Polish act
226 COX'S DIARY
of the Sarmatian horse-tamer, on eight steeds," which we were all
of us longing to see. The horse-tamer, to music twenty miles an
hour, rushed in on four of his horses, leading the other four, and
skurried round the ring. You couldn't see him for the sawdust,
but everybody was delighted, and applauded like mad. Presently,
you saw there were only three horses in front : he had slipped one
more between his legs, another followed, and it was clear that the
consequences would be fatal, if he admitted any more. The people
a])plauded more than ever ; and when, at last, seven and eight were
made to go in, not wholly, but sliding dexterously in and out, with
the others, so that you did not know which was which, the house,
I thought, would come down with applause; and the Sarmatian
horse-tamer bowed his great feathers to the ground. At last the
music grew slower, and he cantered leisurely ntuiid the ring; bend-
ing, smirking, seesawing, waving his whip, and laying his hand on
his heart, just as we have seen the Ashley's peojtle do. But fancy
our astonishment when, suddenly, this Sariuatian liorse-tamcr, coming
round with his four pair at a canter, and l)eing opposite our box,
gave a start, and a — huji]) ! which made all his horses stop stock-still
at an instant !
"Albert ! " screamed my dear Jcuuny : " Albert ! Bahbahbah —
baron ! " The Sarmatian looked at her for a minute ; and turning
head over heels, three times, bolted suddenly off his horses, and
away out of our sight.
It Avas His Excellency the Baron de Punter !
Jemmy went off in a fit as usual, and we never saw the Baron
again ; but we heard, afterwards, tliat Punter M-as an apprentice of
Franconi's, and jiad run away to England, thinking to better himself,
and had joined Mr. Richardson's army ; but Sir, Richardson, and
then London, did not agree with him ; and we saw the last of him
as he sprang over the barriers at the Tuggeridgeville tournament.
" Well, Jeniimarann," says Jemmy, in a fury, " you shall marry
Tagrag ; and if I can't have a baroness for a daughter, at least
you shall be a baronet's lady," Poor Jemimarann only sighed ; she
knew it was of no use to remonstrate.
Paris grew dull to us after this, and we were more eager than
ever to go back to London : for what should we hear, but that that
monster, Tuggeridge, of the City — old Tug's black son, forsooth ! —
wjis going to contest Jcnnny's claim to the property, and had filed I
don't know how many bills against us in Chancery ! Hearing this,
we set off immediately, and we arrived at Boulogne, and set off in
that very same " Grand Turk " which had brouglit us to France.
If you look in the bills, you will see that the steamers leave
London on Saturday morning, and Boulogne on Saturday night ; so
c
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NOTICE TO QUIT 227
that there is often not an hour Ix'tweeu the time of arrival and
departure.. Bless us ! hless us ! I pity the poor Captain that, for
twenty-four hours at a time, is on a i)addle-box, roaring out, " Ease
her ! Stop her ! " and the poor servants, who are laying out break-
fast, lunch, dinner, tea, supper ; — breakfast, lunch, dinner, tea,
supper, again ; — for layers upon layers of travellers, as it were ; and,
most of all, I pity that unhappy steward, with those unfortunate
tin basins that he nuist always keep an eye over. Little did we
know what a storm was brewing in our absence ; and little were
we prepared for the awful awful fate tliat hung over our Tuggeridge-
ville property.
Biggs, of the great house of Higgs, Biggs, & Blatherwick, was our
man of business : when I arrived in London I heard that he had
just set off to Paris after me. So we started down to Tuggeridge-
ville instead of going to Portland Place. As we came through the
lodge-gates, we found a crowd assembled within them ; and there
was that horrid Tuggeridge on horseback, with a shabby-looking
man, called Mr. Scajigoat, and his man of business, and many
more. " Mr. Scajigoat," says Tuggeridge, gi-inning, and handing
him over a sealed jjaper, " here's the lease ; I leave you in posses-
sion, and wish you good-morning."
" In possession of what 1 " says the rightful lady of Tuggeridge-
viUe, leaning out of the carriage-window. She hated black Tug-
geridge, as she called him, like poison : the very first week of our
coming to Portland Place, wlien he called to ask restitution of some
plate which he said was his private property, she called him a base-
born blackamoor, and told him to quit the house. Since then there
had been law-squabbles between us without end, and all sorts of
writings, meetings, and arbitrations.
" Possession of my estate of Tuggeridgeville, madam," roars he,
" left me by my father's will, which you have had notice of these
three weeks, and know as well as I do."
" Old Tug left no will," shrieked Jemmy : " he didn't die to
leave his estates to blackamoors — to negi'oes — to base-born mulatto
story-tellers ; if he did, may I be "
" Oh, hush ! dearest mamma," says Jemimarann.
" Go it again, mother ! " says Tug, who is always sniggering.
"What is this business, Mr. Tuggeridge?" cried Tagrag (who was
the only one of our party that had his senses). "What is this willf
" Oh, it's merely a matter of form," said the lawyer, riding up.
" For Heaven's sake, madam, be peaceable ; let my friends, Higgs,
Biggs, & Blatherwick, arrange with me. I am surprised that
none of their people are here. All that you have to do is to eject
us ; and the rest will follow, of course."
228 COX'S DIARY
"Who has taken possession of tliis here property?" roars
Jemmy again.
"My friend Mr. Scapgoat," said tlie lawyer. — Mr. Scapgoat
grinned.
"Mr. Scapgoat," said my wife, shaking her fist at liim (for she
is a woman of no small spirit), " if you dun't leave this gi-ound, I'll
have you pushed out with i)itchforks, I will — you and your beggarly
blackamoor yonder." And, suiting the action to the word, she
clapped a stable fork into the hands of one of the gfirdeners, and
called auotlier, armed with a rake, to his hel|», while young Tug
set the dog at their heels, and I hurrahed for joy to see such
villainy so proi»erly treated.
" That's sutticient, ain't it 1 " said jNIr. Scapgoat, with the calmest
air in the world. "Oh, completely," said the lawyer. "Mr. Tug-
geridge, we've ten miles to dinner. Madam, yoiu" very humble
servant." And the whole posse of them rode away.
NOVEMBER— LAW LIFE ASSURANCE
WE knew not what this meant, until we received a strange
document from Higgs, in London,— which began, "JMiddle-
sex to wit. Samuel Cox, late of Portland Place, in the
City of Westminster, in the said county, was attached to answer
Samuel Scapgoat, of a plea, wherefore, with force and arms, he
entered into one messuage, with tlie appurtenances, which John
Tuggeridge, Esquire, demised to the said Samuel Scapgoat, for a
term whicli is not yet expired, and ejected him." And it went on
to say that " we, with force of arms, viz. with swords, knives, and
staves, had ejected him." Was there ever such a monstrous false-
hood ? when we did but stand in defence of our own ; and isn't it a
sin that we should have been turned out of our rightful possessions
upon such a rascally i)lea?
Higgs, Biggs, & Ijlatherwick had evidently been bribed ; for —
would you believe it ? — they told us to give up possession at once,
as a will was found, and we could not defend the action. My
Jemmy refused their jjrojjosal witli scorn, and laughed at the notion
of the will : she pronounced it to be a forgery, a vile blackamoor
forgery ; and believes, to this day, that the story of its having been
made thirty years ago, in Calcutta, and left there with old Tug's
pa])ers, and found there, and brought to England, after a search
made, by order of Tuggeridge junior, is a scandalous falsehood.
Well, the cause was tx'wA. Why need I say anything concerning
it 1 What shall I say of the Lord Chief Justice, but that he ought
to be ashamed of the wig he sits in? What of Mr. and
Mr. , who exerted their eloquence against justice and the poor ?
On our side, too, was no less a man than Mr. Serjeant Binks, who,
ashamed I am, for the honour of the British bar, to say it, seemed
to have been bribed too : for he actually threw up his case ! Had
he behaved like Mr. Mulligan, his junior — and to wluim, in this
humble way, I offer my thanks — all might have been well. I never
knew such an effect jiroduced, as when Mr. Mulligan, appearing for
the first time in that court, said, " Standing here, upon the pidestal
of scored Thamis ; seeing around me the arnymints of a profission I
rispict: having before me a vinnerable judge, and an inlightened
T
£^o COX'S DIARY
jiuy — the oounthry's glory, the netion's clieap defender, the poor
man's priceless palladium : how must I tlirimble, my Lard, how
must the blush bejew my cheek — " (somebody cried out " cheeks ! "
In the court there was a dreadful roar of laughing ; and when order
was establislied, Mr. Mulligan continued :) — " INly Lard, I heed
them not ; I come from a counthry accustomed to opprission, and
as that counthry — yes, my Lard, that Ireland — (do not laugh, I
am jiroud of it) — is ever, in spite of her tyrants, green, and lovely,
and beautiful : my client's cause, likewise, will rise shuperior to the
malignant imbecility — I repeat, the malignant imbecility — of
those who woidd thrample it down ; and in whose teeth, in my
client's name, in my counthry's — ay, and viy men — I, with folded
arrums, hurl a scarnful aiul eternal defiance ! "
" For Heaven's sake, Mr. Milligan " — (" Mulligan, me Laed,"
cried my defender) — " Well, Mulligan, then, be calm, and keep to
your brief."
Mr. Mulligan did : and for tliree hours and a quarter, in a
speech crammed with Latin quotations, and unsurpassed for eloquence,
he explained the situation of mo and my family ; the romantic
manner in wliich Tuggeridge the elder gained his fortime, and by
wliich it afterwards came to my wife ; the state of Ireland ; the
original and \irtuous poverty of the Coxes— from which he glanced
passionately, for a few miinites (until the jmlge stoi»|iod liini), to
the ])ovcrty of his own country ; my excclU'nce as u husband, fatlier,
landlord ; my wife's, as a wife, mother, landlady. All was in vain
— the trial went against us. I was soon taken in execution for the
damages; five hundred ]>ounils of law expenses of my own, and
as much more of Tuggeridge's. He would not pay a farthing, he
said, to get me out of a much worse place than the Fleet. I need
not tell you that along with the laml went the house in town, and
the money in tlu' funds. Tuggeridge, he who had thousands before,
luwl it all. And when I was in i)rison, who do you think would
come and see mel None of the Barons, nor Counts, nor Foreign
Ambassadors, nor Excellencies, who used to fill our house, and cat
and drink at our ex])ense, — not even the ungrateful Tagrag !
I could not hel]) now saying to my dear wife, " See, my love, we
have been gentlefolks for exactly a year, and a pretty life we have
had of it. In the first place, my darhng, we gave grand dinners,
and everybody laughed at us."
" Yes, and recollect how ill they made you," cries my daughter.
"We asked great comitany, and they insulted us."
" And spoilt mamma's temper," said Jemimarann.
*' Hush ! miss," said her mother ; " we don't want your advice."
" Then you must make a country gentleman of me."
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LAW LIFE ASSURANCE 231
" And send pa into dunghills," roared Tug.
" Then you must go to operas, and pick up foreign Barons and
Counts."
" Oh, thank Heaven, dearest papa, that we are rid of them,"
cries my little Jemimarann, looking almost happy, and kissing her
old pappy.
" And you must make a fine gentleman of Tug there, and send
him to a fine school."
"And I give you my word," says Tug, "I'm as ignorant a chap
as ever lived,"
"You're an insolent saucebox," says Jemmy; "you've learned
that at your fine school."
"I've learned something else, too, ma'am; ask tlic boys if I
haven't," grumbles Tug.
" You hawk your daughter about, and just escape marrying her
to a swindler."
" And drive off poor Orlando," whimpered my girl.
" Silence ! miss," says Jemmy fiercely.
"You insult the man whose father's property you inherited, and
bring me into this prison, without hope of leaving it : for he never
can help us after all your bad language." I said all this very smartly ;
for the fact is, my blood was up at the time, and I determined to
rate my dear girl soundly,
" Oh ! Sammy," said she, sobbing (for the poor thing's spirit was
quite broken), " it's all true ; I've been very very foolish and vain,
and I've punished my dear husband antl children by my follies, and
I do so so repent them ! " Here Jenaimarann at once burst out
crying, and flung herself into her mamma's arms, and the pair roared
and sobbed for ten minutes together. Even Tug looked queer : and
as for me, it's a most extraordinary thing, but I'm blest if seeing
them so miserable didn't make me quite happy. — I don't think,
for the whole twelve months of our good fortune, I had ever felt so
gay as in that dismal room in the Fleet, Mdiere I was locked up.
Poor Orlando Crump came to see us every day ; and we, who
had never taken the slightest notice of him in Portland Place, and
treated him so cruelly that day at Beulah Spa, were only too glad
of his company now. He used to bring books for my girl, and a
bottle of sherry for me ; and he used to take home Jemmy's fronts and
dress them for her ; and when locking-up time came, he used to see
the ladies home to their little three-pair bedroom in Holborn, whore
they slept now. Tug and all, "Can the bird forget its nestT'
Orlando used to say (he was a romantic young fellow, that's the
truth, and blew the flute and read Lord Byron incessantly, since he
was separated from Jemimarann). " Can the bird, let loose in Eastern
19
232 COX'S DIARY
climes, forget its home 1 Can the rose cease to remember its beloved
bulbul 1 — Ah, no ! Mr. Cox, you made me what I am, and what I
hope to die — a hairdresser, I never see a curling-irons before I
entered your shop, or knew Naples fi-om brown Windsor. Did you
not make over your house, your furniture, your emporium of per-
fumery, and nine-and-twenty shaving customers, to me ? Are these
trifles ? Is Jemimarann a trifle 1 if she would allow me to c<all her
so. Oh, Jemimarann, your pa found me in the Avorkhouse, and made
me what I am. Conduct me to my grave, and I never never shall
he different ! " Wlien he had said this, Orlando was so much aftected,
that he rushed suddenly on his hat and quitted the room.
Then Jemimarann began to cry too. " Oh, pa ! " said she,
"isn't he — isn't he a nice young man ?"
"I'm hniKjed if lie ain't," says Tug. "What do you think of
his giving me eighteenpence yesterday, and a liottle of lavender-
water for Mimarann ? "
" He niiglit as well oft'er to give you back the shop at any rate,"
says JfMumy.
" What ! to pay Tuggeridge's damages ? My dear, I'd sooner
die than give Tuggcridge the chance."
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DECEMBER— FAMILY BUSTLE
TUGGERIDGE vowed that I sliould finish my days there,
when lie \)\\t me in prison. It appears that we both had
reason to be ashamed of ourselves ; and were, thank God !
I learned to be sorry for my bad feelings towards him, and he
axitually wrote to me to say —
" Sir, — I think you have suffered enough for faults which, I
believe, do not lie with you, so much as your wife; and I have
withdrawn my claims which I had against you while you were in
wrongftd possession of my father's estates. You must remember
that when, on examination of my fixther's papers, no will was found,
I yielded up his property, with perfect willingness, to those who I
fimcied were his legitimate heirs. For this I received all sorts of
insults from your wife and yourself (who acquiesced in them) ; and
when the discovery of a will, in India, proved my just claims, you
must remember how they were met, and the vexatious proceedings
with which you sought to oppose them.
" I have discharged your lawyer's bill ; and, as I believe you
are more fitted for the trade you formerly exercised than for any
other, I will give five lunidred pounds for the purchase of a stock
and shop, wdien you shall find one to suit you.
" I enclose a draft for twenty pounds, to meet your present
expenses. You have, I am told, a son, a boy of some spirit ; if he
likes to try his fortune abroad, and go on board an Indiaman, I
can get him an appointment ; and am, Sir, your obedient servant,
" John Tuggeeidge."
It was Mrs. Breadbasket, the housekeeper, who brought this
letter, and looked mighty contemptuous as she gave it.
"I hope. Breadbasket, that your master will send me my things at
any rate," cries Jemmy. " There's seventeen silk and satin dresses,
and a whole heap of trinkets, that can be of no earthly use to him."
"Don't Breadbasket me, mem, if you please, mem. My master
says that them things is quite obnoxious to your sphere of life.
Breadbasket, indeed ! " And so she sailed out.
234 COX'S DIARY
Jemmy hadn't a word ; she had grown mighty quiet since we
had been in misfortune : but my daughter looked as liappy as a
queen ; and Tug, when he heard of the ship, gave a jump that nearly
knocked down poor Orlando. " Ah, I suppose you'll forget me
now ■? " says he, with a sigh ; and seemed the only unhappy person
in company.
" Why, you conceive, Mr. Crump," says my wife, with a great
deal of dignity, " that, connected as we are, a young man born in a
work "
" Woman ! " cried I (for once in my life determined to have my
own way), "hold your foolish tongue. Your absurd pride has been
the ruin of us hitherto ; and, from this day, I'll have no more of it.
Hark ye, Orlando, if you will take Jemimaraun, you may have her ;
and if you'll take five hundred pounds for a half share of the shop,
they're yours ; and that^s for you, Mrs. Cox."
And here we are, back again. And I write this from the old
back shop, where we are all waiting to see the new year in. Orlando
sits yonder, plaiting a wig for ray Lord Chief Justice, as happy as
may be ; and Jemimarann and her mother have been as busy as you
can imagine all day long, and are just now giving the finishing
touches to the bridal-dresses : for the wedding is to take place the
day after to-morrow. I've cut seventeen heads off" (as I say) this
very day ; and as for Jennny, I no more mind her than I do the
Emi)eror of Cliina and all his Tambarins. Last night we had a
merry meeting of our friends and neighbours, to celebrate our re-
appearance among them ; and very merry we all wei*e. We had
a cajiital fiddler, and we kept it up till a pretty tidy hour this
moiiiing. We begun with quadrills, but I never could do 'em well ;
and after that, to please Mr. Crump and his intended, we tried a
gallopard, Avhich I found anything but easy ; for since I am come
back to a life of ])eace and comfort, it's astonishing how stout I'm
getting. So we turned at once to what Jennny and me excels in —
a country dance ; which is rather sur])rising, as we was both brought
up to a town life. As for young Tug, he showed oft" in a sailor's
liornpij)e : ^\•hieh Mrs. Cox says is very proper for him to learn,
now he is intended for. the sea. But stop ! here comes in the
punchbowls ; and if we are not happy, who is ? I say I am like tho
Swish people, for I can't flourish out of my native hair.
THE MEMOIRS
OP
MR. CHARLES J. YELLOWPLUSH
THE MEMOIRS OF
MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
SOMETIME FOOTMAN IN MANY GENTEEL FAMILIES
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND
CHAPTER I
1WAS born in the year one of the present or Christian hera,
and am, in consqnints, seven-and-tliirty years old. My niunima
called me Charles James Harrington Fitzroy Yellowiilush, in
compliment to several noble families, and to a sellybrated coachmin
whom she knew, who wore a yellow livry, and drove the Lord
Mayor of London.
Why she gev me this genlmn's name is a diftiklty, or raythci-
the name of a jiart of his dress ; however, it's stnck to me throngh
life, in which I was, as it were, a footman l)y buth.
Praps he was my father — though on this snbjict I can't speak
suttinly, for my ma wrai)ped up my liuth in a niistry. I may be
illygitmit, I may have l^een changed at nuss ; but I've always had
genlmnly tastes through life, and have no doubt that I come of a
genlinnly origum.
The less I say about my parint the better, for the dear old
creatur was very good to me, and, I fear, had very little other
goodness in her. Why, I can't say ; but I always passed as her
nevyou. We led a strange life ; sometimes ma was dressed in
sattn and rooge, and sometimes in rags and dutt ; sometimes I got
kisses, and sometimes kix ; sometimes gin, and sometimes shampang ;
law bless us ! how she used to swear at me, and cuddle me ; there
we were, quarrelling and making up, sober and tipsy, starving and
guttling by turns, just as ma got money or spent it. But lot mo
draw a vail over the seen, and speak of her no more — it's sfishunt
238 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
for the public to know, that her name was Miss Montmorency, and
we lived in the New Cut.
My poor mother died one morning, Hev'n bless her ! and I was
left alone in this wide wicked wuld, without so much money as
would buy me a penny roal for my brexfast. But there was some
amongst our naybours (and let me tell you there's more kindness
among tliem poor disrepettable creaturs tlian in half-a-dozen lords
or barrynets) who took pity upon poor Sal's orfin (for they bust
out liiffin when I called her Miss Montmorency), and gev me bred
and shelter. I'm afraid, in spite of their kindness, that my morrils
wouldn't have improved if I'd stayed long among 'em. But a benny-
violent genlmn saw me, and put me to school. The academy which
I went to was called the Free School of Saint Bartholomew's the
Less — the young genlmn wore green baize coats, yellow leather
whatsisnames, a tin plate on the left arm, and a cap about tlie size
of a mutfing. I stayed there sicks years ; from sicks, that is to
say, till my twelth year, during three years of witch I distinguished
myself not a little in the musicle way, for I bloo the bellus of the
church horgin, and very fine tunes we played too.
Well, it's not worth recounting my jcwvenile follies (what trix
we used to play the applewoman ! and how we put snuff in the
old dark's Prayer-book — my eye !) ; but one day, a genlmn entered
the school-room — it was on the very day when I went to subtraxion
— and asked the master for a yotmg lad for a servant. They
pitched upon me glad enough ; and nex day found me sleeping in
the sculry, close under the sink, at j\Ir. Bago's country-house at
Pentonwille.
Bago kep a shop in Sniitlifield market, and drov a taring good
trade in the hoil and Italian way. I've heard him say, that he
cleared no less than fifty pounds every year by letting his front
room at hanging time. His winders looked right ojisit Ncwgit,
and many and many dozen chaps has he seen hanging there. Laws
was laws in the year ten, and they screwed chaps' nex for nex to
nothink. But my bisniss was at his country-house, where 1
made my first ontray into fashnabl life. I was knife, errint, and
stable-boy then, and an't ashamed to own it ; for my merrits
have raised me to what I am — two livries, forty pound a year,
malt-licker, washin, silk-stocking, and wax candles- -not counting
wails, which is somethink i)retty considerable at oxir house, I can
tell you.
I didn't stay long here, for a suckmstance happened which got
me a very different situation. A handsome young genlmn, who
kep a tilbry and a ridin lioss at livry wanted a tiger. I bid at
once for the place ; and, being a neat tidy-looking lad, he took me.
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND 239
Bago gave me a character, and he my first livry ; proud enough I
was of it, as you may fancy.
My new master had some business in the City, for he went in
every morning at ten, got out of his tilbry at the Oitty Road, and
had it waiting for him at six ; when, if it was sunmicr, he spanked
round into the Park, and drove one of the neatest turnouts there.
Wery proud I was in a gold-laced hat, a drab coat and a red weskit,
to sit by his side, when he drove. I already began to ogle the gals
in the carridges, and to feel that longing for fashionabl life which.
I've had ever since. When he was at the oppera, or the play,
down I went to skittles, or to White Condick Gardens; and Mr.
Frederic Altamont's young man was somebody, I warrant : to be
sure there is very few man-servants at PentonwiUe, the poppylation
being mostly gals of all work ; and so, though only fourteen, I was
as much a man down there, as if I had been as old as Jerusalem.
But the most singular thing was, that my master, who was
such a gay chap, should live in such a hole. He had only a ground-
floor in John Street^a parlor and a bedroom. I slep over the way,
and only came in with his boots and brexfast of a morning.
The house he lodged in belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Shum. They
were a poor but proliflfic coujjle, who had rented the place for many
years ; and they and their family were squeezed in it pretty tight,
I can tell you.
Shmn said he had been a hofficer, and so he had. He had been
a sub-deputy assistant vice-commissary, or some such think ; and,
as I heerd afterwards, had been obliged to leave on account of his
nervousness. He was such a coward, the fact is, that he was con-
sidered dangerous to the harmy, and sent home.
He had married a widow Buckmaster, who had been a Miss
Slamcoe. She was a Bristol gal ; and her fether being a baiikrup
in the tallow-chandlering way, left, in course, a pretty little sum of
money. A thousand pound was settled 'on her ; and she was as
high and mighty as if it had been a millium.
Buckmaster died, leaving nothink ; nothink except four ugly
daughters by Miss Slamcoe : and her forty pound a year was rayther
a narrow income for one of her appytite and pretensions. In an
unlucky hour for Shum she met him. He was a widower with a
little daughter of three years old, a little house at PentonwiUe, and
a little income about as big as her own. I believe she buUyd the
poor creature into marridge ; and it was agreed that he should
let his ground-floor at John Street, and so add somethink to their
means.
They married ; and the widow Buckmaster was the grey mare,
I can tell you. She was always talking and blustering about her
240 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
famly, the celebrity of the Buckmasters, and the antickety of the
Slamcoes. They had a six-roomed house (noc counting kitching and
sculry), and now twelve daughters in all ; whizz. — 4 Miss Buck-
masters : Miss Betsy, Miss Dosy, Miss Biddy, and Miss Winny ;
1 Miss Shum, Mary by name, Shura's daughter, and seven others,
who shall be nameless. Mrs. Slmin w;is a fat red-haired woman, at
least a foot taller than S., Avho was but a yard and a half high,
pale-faced, red-nosed, knock-kneed, bald-headed, his nose and shut-
frill all brown with snuff.
Before tlie house was a little garden, where the washin of the
famly was all ways hanging. There was so many of 'em that
it was obliged to be done by relays. There was six rails and a
stocking on each, and four small goosbry bushes, always covered
with some bit of linning or other. The hall was a regular puddle :
wet dabs of dLshclouts flapped in yi)ur face ; soapy smoking bits of
flanning went nigh to choke you ; and while you were looking up
to prevent hanging yourself with the ropes which were stnmg across
and about, slap came the hedge of a pail against yoiu- shins, till one
was like to be drove mad with hagony. The gi-eat slattnly doddling
girls was always on the stairs, poking about with nasty flower-i)i)ts,
a-cooking something, or sprawling in the window-seats witli greasy
curl-pajters, reading greasy novels. An infernal i)ianna was jingling
from morning till night — two eldest Miss Buckma-sters, " Battle of
Prag" — six yoimgest Miss Shunis, "In my Cottage," till I knew
every note in the " Battle of Prag," and cussed the day when
" In my Cottage " w;is rote. The younger girls, too, were always
bouncing and tlnuniting about the house, with torn jiinnyfores, and
dogs-eard grammars, and large pieces of bread and treacle. I never
see sucli a house.
As for Mrs. Slium, she was such a fine lady, that she did
nothink but lay on the drawing-room sojihy, read novels, drink,
scold, scream, and go into liystarrix. Little Sluun kej) reading an
old newspaper from weeks' end to weeks' end, wlien he Avas not
engaged in teaching the children, or goin for the beer, or cleanin
tlio slioes : for tlicy kcp no sci-vant. This house in .Tohn Street
was in short a regular Pandymony.
What could have brought Mr. Frederic Altamont to dwel in
such a place ? The reason is hobvius : he adoared the fiist Miss
Shum.
And suttnly lie did not show a bad ta.ste ; for though the other
daughters were as ugly as their hideous ma, Mary Shum was a
pretty little ]iink modest creatiu", with glossy black hair and tender
blue eyes, and a neck as white as plaster of Parish. She wore a
dismal old black gownd, which had grown too short for her, and
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND 241
too tight ; but it only served to show her pretty angles and feet,
and bewchus figger. Master, though he had looked rather low for
the gal of his art, had certainly looked in the right place. Never
was one more pretty or more hamiable. I gav her always the
buttered toast left from our brexfast, and a cup of tea or chocklate,
as Altaraont might fancy : and the poor thing was glad enough of
it, I can vouch ; for they had precious short commons upstairs, and
she the least of all.
For it seemed as if which of the Shum famly should try to snub
the poor thing most. There was the four Buckmaster girls always
at her. It was, Mary, git the coal-skittle ; Mary, run down to the
public-house for the beer ; Mary, I intend to wear your clean
stockens out walking, or your new bonnet to church. Only her
poor father was kind to her ; and he, poor old muff ! his kindness
was of no use, Mary bore all the scolding like a hangel, as she
was : no, not if she had a pair of wings and a goold trumpet, could
she have been a greater hangel.
I never shall forgit one seen that took place. It was when
Master was in the City ; and so, having nothink earthly to do, I
happened to be listening on the stairs. The old scolding was
a-going on, and the old tune of that hojus " Battle of Prag." Old
Shum made some remark ; and Miss Buckmaster cried out, " Law,
pa ! wliat a fool you are ! " All the gals began laffin, and so did
Mrs. Shum ; all, that is, excep Mary, who turned as red as flams,
and going up to Miss Betsy Buckmaster, give her two such wax
on her great red ears as made them tingle again.
Old Mrs. Shum screamed, and ran at her like a Bengal tiger.
Her great arms vent veeling about like a vinmill, as she cufted and
thumped poor Mary for taking her pa's i)art. Mary Shum, who
was always a-crying before, didn't shed a tear now. " I will do it
again," she said, "if Betsy insults my father." New thumps, new
shreex ! and the old horridan wenf on beatin the poor girl till she
was quite exosted, and fell down on the sophy, puffin like a
poppus.
" For shame, Mary," began old Shum ; " for shame, you naughty
gal, you ! for hurting the feelings of your dear mamma, and beating
your kind sister."
" Why, it was because she called you a "
" If she did, you pert miss," said Shum, looking mighty digniti-
fied, " I could correct her, and not you."
" You correct me, indeed ! " said Miss Betsy, turning up her
nose, if possible, higher than before ; " I should like to see you erect
me ! Imperence ! " and they all began laffin again.
By this time Mrs. S. had recovered from the effex of her exsize.
242 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
and she began to pour in hei' wolly. Fust she called Mary names,
then Shum.
" Oh, "why," screeched she, " why did I ever leave a genteel
famly, wliere I 'ad every ellygance and lucksry, to marry a
creatur like this? He is unfit to be called a man, he is un-
worthy to niarrj"^ a gentlewoman ; and as for that hussy, I disown
" her. Thank Heaven she an't a Slamcoe ; she is only fit to be a
Shum ! "
" That's true, mamma," said all the gals ; for their mother had
taught them tliis pretty piece of manners, and they despised their
father heartily : indeed, I have always remarked tliat, in famlies
wliere the wife is internally talking about the merits of her branch,
the husband is invariably a spooney.
Well, when she was oxosted again, down she foil on the sofy, at
her old trlx— more screeching — more convulshuns : and she wouldn't
stop, this time, till Shum had got Ii't half a ])int of lier old remedy
from tlie " Blue Lion " over the way. She grew more easy as she
finished the gin ; but Mary was sent out of the room, and told not
to come back agin all day.
" Miss Mary," says I, — for my lieart yurned to the poor gal,
as she came sobbing and miserable <lownstairs : "Miss I^Fary,"
says I, " if I might make so bold, here's master's room empty,
and I know where the cold bif and pickles is." " Oh, Charles ! "
saiil she, nodding her head sa<lly, " I'm too retclied to have any
happy tite." And she flung herself on a chair, and began to ciy fit
to bust.
At tliis moment, who should come in but my master. I had
taken hold of i\Iiss Mary's hand, somehow, and do believe I shoidd
have kist it, when, as I said, Haltamont made his aiijicaranre.
"What's this?" cries he, lookin at me as bhick as tluuidcr, or as
Mr. Pliillips as Hickit, in tlie new tragedy of Mac Buff.
" It's only ]\Iiss INIary, sir," answered I.
"Get out, sir," says he, as fierce as poslul ; and I felt somethink
(I think it was the tip of his to) touching me l^ehind, and found
myself, nex minit, sprawling among the wet flannings and buckets
and things.
The people from upstairs came to see what was the matter, as I
was cussin and crjing out. " It's only Charles, ma," screamed out
Miss Betsy
"Where's Mary?" says Mrs. Shum, from tlie sofy.
" She's in master's room, missis," said I.
" She's in the lodger's room, mn," cries Miss Shum, hecko-
ing me.
"Very good ; tell her to stay there till he comes back." And
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND " 243
then Miss Sliuin went bouncing up the stairs again, little knowing
of Haltamont's return.
• •••••»
I'd long before observed that my master had an anchoring after
Mary Shum ; indeed, as I have said, it was purely for her sake
that he took and kep his lodgings at Pentonwille. Excep for the
sake of love, which is above being mersnary, fourteen sliillings a
wick was a little too strong for two such rat-holes as he lived in.
I do blieve the fandy ha.d nothing else but their lodger to live on :
they brektisted off his tea-leaves, they cut away pounds and pounds
of meat from his jints (he always (lined at home), and his baker's
bill was at least enough for six. But that wasn't my business. I
saw him grin, sometimes, when I laid down the cold bif of a
morning, to see how little was left of yesterday's sirline ; but he
never said a syllabub : for true love don't mind a pound of meat or
so hextra.
At first, he was very kind and attentive to all the gals ; Miss
Betsy, in partickler, grew mighty fond of him : they sat, for whole
evenings, playing cribbitch, he taking his pipe and glas, she her tea
and nuiffing; but as it was improper for her to come alone, she
brought one of her sisters, and this was genrally Mary,- — for he
made a pint of asking her, too, — and one day, when one of the
others came instead, he told her, very quitely, that he hadn't invited
her ; and Miss Buckmaster was too fond of muffings to try this
game on again : besides, she was jealous of her three grown sisters,
and considered Mary as only a child. Law bless us ! how she used
to ogle him, and quot bits of pottry, and play " Meet Me by
Moonlike," on an old gitter : she reglar flung herself at his head :
but he wouldn't have it, bein better ockypied elsewhere.
One night, as genteel as possible, he brought home tickets for
" Ashley's," and projiosed to take the two young ladies — Miss Betsy
and Miss Mary, in course. I recklect he called me aside that after-
noon, assuming a solamon and misterus hare, " Charles," said he,
^^ are you up to snuff?"
" Why, sir," said I, " I'm genrally considered tolerably downy."
" Well," says he, " I'll give you half a suffering if you can
manage this bisness for me ; I've chose a rainy night on purpus.
When the theater is over, you must be waitin with two umbrellows ;
give me one, and hold the other over Miss Buckmaster : and, hark
ye, sir, turn to the right Avhen you leave the theater, and say the
coach is ordered to stand a little way up the street, in order to get
rid of the crowd."
We went (in a fly hired by Mr. A.), and never shall I forgit
Cartliche's hacting on that memrable night. Talk of Kimble ! talk
244 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
of Magreedy ! Ashley's for my money, with Cartlitch in tlie
principal part. But this is nothink to the porpus. When the play
was over, I was at the door with the umbrellos. It was raining
cats and dogs, sure enough.
Mr. Altamont came out presently. Miss IMary under his arm,
and Miss Betsy following behind, raytlier sulky. " This way, sir,"
cries I, pushin forward ; and I threw a great cloak over Miss Betsy,
fit to smother her. Mr. A. and ]\Iiss Mary skipped on and was out
of sight when Miss Betsy's cloak was settled, you may be sure.
"Tliey're only gone to the fly, miss. It's a little way up the
street, away from the crowd of carridges." And off we turned to
the right, and no mistake.
After marchin a little through the ])lash and nuid, " Ha.s any-
body seen Coxy's fly ? " cries I, with the most inmxent haxent in
the world.
" Cox's fly ! " hollows out oiiC chap. " Is it the vaggin you
want?" says another. "I see the blackin wan iiass," giggles out
another genlnm ; and there was such a hinterchange of compliments
as you never heerd. I pass them over .though, because some of 'em
were not very genteel.
"Law, miss," said I, "what shall I do? My master will never
forgive me ; and I liaven't a single sixjience to i)ay a coach." Miss
Betsy was just going to caU one when I said that ; but the coach-
man wouldn't have it at that price, he said, and I knew very well
that she hadn't four or five shillings to pay for a wehicle. So, in
the midst of that tarin rain, at midnight, we had to walk four
miles, from AVestminster Bridge to Pentonwille ; and what was
wuss, / duhi't ha/i/x'n to know the ivay. A very nice walk it
w^as, and no mistake.
At about half-i«xst two, we got safe to John Street. My master
was at the garden gate. Miss Mary flew into Miss Betsy's arms,
while master began cussin and swearing at me for disolx'ying his
orders, and turning to the right instead of to the left 1 Law bless
me ! his hacting of hanger w^as very near as natral and as terrybl a.s
Mr. Cartlich's in the play.
They had waited half-an-hour, he said, in tlie fly, in the little
street at the left of the theater ; they had drove up and flown in
the greatest fright possible ; and at last came home, thinking it was
in vain to wait any more. They gave her 'ot rum-and-water and
roast oysters for suj^pcr, and this consoled her a little.
I hope nobody will cast an imputation on ]\Iiss Mary for her
share in this adventer, for she was as honest a gal as ever lived, and
I do believe is hignorant to this day of our little strattygim.
Besides, all's fair in love ; and, as my master could never get to see
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND 245
her alone, on account of her infernal eleven sister!^ and nia, he took
this opportunity of expressin his attachment to her.
If he was in love with her before, you may he sure she i)ai(l it
him back again now. Ever after the night at Ashley's, they were
as tender as two tuttle-doves — which fully accounts for the axdent
what happened to me, in being kicked out of the room : and in
course I bore no mallis.
I don't know whether Miss Betsy still fancied that my master
was in love with her, but she loved muffings and tea, and kem down
to his parlor as much as ever.
Now comes the sing'lar part of my history.
CHAPTER II
BUT who was this genlmn with a fine name — Mr. Frederic
Altamontl or what was lie? The most mystenis genhnu
that ever I knew. Once I said to him on a wery rainy day,
" Sir, shall I bring the gig down to your office ? " and he gave me
one of his black looks and one of his lomlest hoaths, and told me
to mind my own bizziness, and attend to my orders. Another day,
— it was on the day when Miss Mary slapped Miss Betsy's face, —
Miss M., who adoared him, as I have said already, kep on asking
him what Avas his buth, parentidg, and cdiccation. " Dear Frederic,"
says she, " why this mistry about yourself and your hactions 1 why
hide from your little Mary " — they were as tender as this, I can
tell you — " your buth and your professin 1 "
I spose Mr. Frederic looked black, for I was onb/ listening, and
he said, in a voice hagitated by emotion, " Mary," said he, " if you
love me, ask me this no more : let it be sfishnt for you to know that
I am a honest man, and that a secret, what it would be misery for
you to lam, must hang over all mv actions — that is from ten o'clock
till six."
They went on chattin and talking in this melumcolly and
mysterus way, and I didn't lose a word of what they said ; for
them houses in Penton-nille have oidy walls made of pasteboard,
and you hear niyther better outside the room than in. But, though
he kep up his secret, he swore to her his affektion this day pint
blank. Nothing should jirevent him, he said, from leading her to
tlie halter, from makiu her his adoarable wife. After this was a
slight silence. " Dearest Frederic," mummered out miss, speakin
as if she was chokin, " I am yours — yours for ever." And then
silence agen, and one or two smax, as if there was kissin going on.
Here I thought it best to give a rattle at the door-lock ; for, as I
live, there was old Mrs. Shum a-walkin down the stairs !
It appears that one of the younger gals, a-looking out of the
bedrum \nndow, had seen my master come in, and coming down
to tea half-an-hour afterwards, said so in a cussary way. Old ]\Irs.
Shum, who was a dragon of vertyou, cam bustling down the stairs,
lianting and frowning, as fot and as fierce as a old sow at feedin time.
*' Where's the lodger, fellow ! " says she to me.
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND 247
I spoke loud enough to be heard down the sti-eet— " If you
mean, ma'am, my master, Mr. Frederic Altamont, es(iuire, he's just
stept in, and is puttiu on clean shoes in his bedroom."
She said nothink in answer, but flumps past me, and opening
the parlor-door, sees master looking very tpieer, and Miss Mary
a-drooping do\^Ti her head like a pale lily.
"Did you come into my fandy," says she, "to corrupt my
daughters, and to destroy the hinnocence of that infamous gal 1
Did you come here, sir, as a seducer, or only as a lodger 1 Speak,
sir, speak ! "—and she folded her arms quite fierce, and looked like
Mrs. Siddums in the Tragic; Mews.
"I came here, Mrs. Shum," said he, "because I loA-ed your
daughter, or I never woidd have condescended to live in such a
beggarly hole. I have treated her in every respect like a genlran,
and she is as innocent now, ma'm, as she was when she was born.
If she'll marry me, I am ready ; if she'll leave you, she shall have
a home where she shall be neither buUyd nor starved : no hangry
frum])s of sisters, no cross mother-in-law, only an affeckshnat husband,
and all the pure i»leasures of Hyniing."
Mary flung herself into his arms — " Dear, dear Frederic," says
she, " I'll never leave you."
"Miss," says Mrs. Slunn, "you ain't a Slamcoe, nor yet a
Buckmaster, thank God. You may marry this person if your pa
thinks proper, and he may insult me — brave me — trample on my
feelinx in my own liouse — and there's no-o-o-obody by to defend me."
I knew what she was going to be at : on came her histarrix
agen, and she began screeehin and roarin like mad, Down comes
of course the eleven gals and old Shuui. There was a pretty row.
" Look here, sir," says she, " at the conduck of your precious trull
of a daughter — alone Avitli this man, kissing and dandlin, and Lawd
knows what besides."
" What, he 1 " cries Miss Betsy — " he in love with Mary. Oh,
the wretch, the monster, the deceiver ! " — and she falls down too,
screeching away as loud as her mamma ; for the silly creatxu-e
fancied still that Altamont had a fondness for her.
" Silence these icomeu ! " shouts out Altamont, thundering loud.
"I love your daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her without a penny,
and can afford to keep her. If you don't give her to me, she'll
come of her own will. Is that enough ? — nmy I have her % "
" We'll talk of this matter, sir," says Mr. Shum, looking as high
and mighty as an aldei'man. " Gals, go upstairs with your dear
mamma." — And they all trooped up again, and so the skrimmage
ended.
You may be sure tliat old Shum was not very sorry to get a
248 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
husband for his daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her better
than all the pack wliich had been brought him or born to him by Mrs.
Buckmaster, But, strange to say, when he came to talk of settle-
ments and so forth, not a word would my master answer. He said
he made four hundred a j^ear reglar — he wouldn't tell how — but
Mary, if she married him, must share all that he had, and ask no
questions ; only this he would say, as he'd said before, that he was
a honest man.
They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel house
at Islington ; but still my master went away to business, and no-
body knew where. Who coidd he be 1
CHAPTER III
IF ever a yoim^ kipple in the niiddlin classes began life with a
cliance of happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Altamont.
Their house at Cannon Row, Islington, was as comfortable as
house could be. Carpited from top to to ; pore's rates small ;
furnitur elygaut ; and three deomestix : of which I, in course, was
one. My life wasn't so easy as in Mr. A.'s bachelor days ; but,
what tlien 1 The three Ws is my maxum : plenty of work, plenty
of wittles, and plenty of wages. Altamont kep his gig no longer, but
went to the City in an omlibuster.
One would have tlKJUght, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an
effeckshnut husband, might have been as happy as her blessid
majisty. Nothing of the sort. For the fust six months it was all
very well ; but then she grew gloomier and gloomier, though A. did
every think in life to please her.
Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon
Row, where he lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore
little man was a thought too fond of wine and spirits ; and many
and many's the night that I've had to support him liome. And
you may be sure that Miss Betsy did not now desert her sister : slie
was at our place mornink, noon, and night ; not nmch to my
mayster's liking, though he was too good-natured to wex his wife
in trifles.
But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and
hated Altamont like the foul felnd. She put all kind of bad things
into the head of poor innocent missis ; who, from being all gaiety
and cheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly and pale, and retchid,
just as if she had been the most misrable woman in the world.
In three months more a baby comes, in course, and witli it old
Mrs. Shum, who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, and
made her retchider and retchider. She used to bust into tears
when Altamont came home : she used to sigh and wheep over the
pore child, and say. "My child, my child, your fiither is false to
me ; * or, " your father deceives me ; " or, " what will you do when
your pore mother is no more 1 " or such like sentimental stuff".
It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon found
out. The fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in the house,
250 MEMOIRS OF ME. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
it's a servant's duty to listen ; and listen I did, one day when Mrs.
was cryin as usual, and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin consolin her, as she
called it : though, Heaven knows, she only grew wuss and wuss for
the consolation.
Well, I listened ; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and missis
cryin as yousual.
" Pore dear innocint," says Mrs. S., heavin a gi'eat sigh, " you're
the child of an unknown father and a misrable mother."
" Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma," says missis ; " he is all
kindness to me."
'* All kindness, indeed ! yes, he gives you a fine house, and a
fine gownd, and a ride in a fly whenever you please ; but where
does all his money come from ? Who is he— what is he ? Who
knows that he mayn't be a nuu'derer, or a housebreaker, or a
utterer of forged notes? How can he make his money honestly,
when he won't say where he gets it ? Why (hies he leave you eight
hours every blessid day, and Avon't say where he goes to? Oh, Mary,
Mary, you are the most injured of women ! "
And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin ; and Miss Betsy began
yowling like a cat in a gitter ; and jiore missis cried, too — tears is so
remarkable infeckshus.
" Perliaps, mamma," wimpered out she, " Frederic is a shopboy,
and don't like me to know that he is not a gentleman."
" A shopboy," says Betsy ; " he a shopboy ! no, no, no !
more likely a wretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and robing
all day, and feedin you with the fruits of his ill-gotten games ! "
More crying and screechin here took place, in which the baby
joined ; and made a very pretty consort, I can tell you.
" He can't be a robber," cries missis ; *' he's too good, too kind
for that : besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic is
always home at eight."
" But lie can be a forger," says Betsy, "a wicked, Avicked /or^er.
Why does he go away every day? to forge notes, to be sure. Why
does he go to the City ? to lie near banks and jjlaces, and so do
it more at his convenience."
" But he brings home a sum of money every day — about thirty '
shillings— sometimes fifty : and then he smiles, and says it's a good
day's work. This is not like a forger," said pore Mrs. A.
" I have it — I have it ! " screams out Mrs. S. " The villain —
the sneaking double-faced Jonas ! he's married to somebody else, he
is, and that's why he leaves you, the base biggymist ! "
At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean away.
A dreadfid business it was — hystarrix : then hystarrix, in course,
from Mrs. Shum ; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants tearin up
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND 251
and down stairs with hot water ! If ever there is a noosancc in the
world, it's a house where fiiintain is always goin on. I woiUdu't
live in one, — no, not to be groom of the chambers, and git two
hundred a year.
It was eight o'clock in the eveuin when this row took jilace ;
and such a row it was, that noliody but me heard master's knock.
He came in, and heard the hoo})ing, and screeching, and roaring.
He seemed very much frightened at first, and said, " What is it ? "
"Mrs. Shum's here," says I, "and Mrs. in astarrix."
Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a word
which I don't like to name— let it suffice that it begins with a d
and ends with a nation ; and lie toi'c upstairs like mad.
He bust open the bedroom door ; missis lay (piite pale anrl
stony on the sofy ; the babby was screcchin from the craddlc ;
Miss Betsy was sprawlin over missis; and Mrs. Slniiii lialf on the
bed and half on the groimd : all Inmliu and s(|U('cliii, like so many
dogs at the moond.
When A. came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of a
sudding. There had been one or two tifis before between them, and
they feared him as if he had been a hogre.
"What's this infernal screeching and crying about 1" says he.
" Oh, Mr. Altamont," cries the old woman, " you know too well ;
it's about you that this darling child is misrabble ! "
" And why about me, pray, madain 1 "
" Why, sir, dare you ask why 1 Because you deceive her, sir ;
because you are a false cowardly traitor, sir; because you have a
ivlfe ehetvhere, sir ! " And the old lady and Miss Betsy began to
roar again as loud as ever.
Altamont pawsed for a miunit, aiid then fiung the door wide
open ; nex he seized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and he
world her out of the room ; then up he goes to Mrs. S. " Get uj),"
says he, thundering loud, " you lazy, trollopping, mischief-making,
lying old fool ! Get up, and get out of this house. You liave been
the cuss and bain of my happyniss since you entered it. With your
d — d lies, and novvle reading, and histcrrix, you have pcrwerted
Mary, and made her almost as mad as yourself."
" My child ! my child ! " shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings
round missis. But Altamont ran between them, and griping the
old lady by her arm, dragged her to th(>. door. " Follow your
daughter, ma'm," says he, and down she went. " Chawls, see
those ladies to the door," he hollows out, "and ^]v\■^^T let them pass
it again." We walked down together, and ott" they went : and
master locked and double-locked the bedroom door after him, intendin,
of course, to have a tator-tator (as they say) with his wife. You
252 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
may be sure that I followed upstairs again pretty quick, to hear the
result of their confidence.
As they say at St. Steveneses, it was rayther a stormy debate.
" Mary," says master, " you're no longer the merry grateful gal I
knew and loved at Pentouwill : there's some secret a pressin on you
— there's no smilin welcom for me now, as there used formly to be !
Your mother and sister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary : and that's
why I've drove them fi'om this house, which they shall not re-enter
in my life."
" Frederic ! it's you is the cause, and not I. Why do you
have any mistry from me 1 Where do you spend your days ? Why
did you leave me, even on the day of youi' marridge, for eight hoiu-s,
and continue to do so every day 1 "
" Because," says he, " I makes my livelihood by it. I leave
you, and don't tell you hoio I make it : for it would make you none
the happier to know."
It was in this way the convysation ren on — more tears and
questions on my missises part, more stiirmness and silence on my
master's : it ended for the first time since their marridge, in a reglar
quarrel. Wery difrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous
billing and kewing which had i>roceeded their nuiDshuls.
Master went out, slamming the door in a fury ; as well he
might. Says he, " If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a
jolly one ; " and so he went ofi" to the hed tavern, and came home
tliat evening beesly iutawsicated. When high words begin in a
family, drink generally follows on the genlman's side ; and then,
fearwell to all conjubial happyniss ! These two pipple, so fond and
loving, were now sirly, silent, and full of il wil. Master went out
earlier, and came home later ; missis cried more, and looked even
paler than before.
Well, tilings went on in this uncomfortable way, master still in
the mopes, missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and cm-osity ;
until a singlar axident brought to light all the goings on of Mr.
Altamont.
It was the tenth of January ; I recklect the day, for old Shum
gev me half-a-crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, by
the way) : he was dining along with master, and they were making
merry together.
Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and
little Shum his twelfth or so — master said, " I see you twice in the
City to-day, Mr. Shum."
"Well, that's curous ! " says Shum. *I was in the City.
To-day's the day when the divvydins (God bless 'em) is paid ; and
me and Mrs. S. went for our half-year's inkem. But we only got
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND 255
out of the coach, crossed tlie street to the Bank, took our money,
and got in agen. How could y(ni see ine twice 1 "
Altamont stuttered and stauunered and hemd, and hawd. " !'
says he, " I was passing — passing as you went in and out." And
he instantly turned the conversation, and began talking about polly-
tix, or the weather, or some such stuff.
" Yes, my dear," said my missis, " but how could you see papa
tivice ? " Master didn't answer, but talked pollytix more than ever.
Still she would continy on. "AVhere was you, my dear, when you
saw jia ? What were you doing, my love, to see pa twice ? " and
so forth. Master looked angrier and angrier, and his wife only
pressed him wuss and wuss.
This was, as I said, little Shuni's twelfth tumlcr ; and I knew
pritty well that he could git very little further ; for as reglar as the
thirteenth came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did come, and
its consquinzes. I was obliged to leed him home to John Street,
where I left him in the lian.gry arms of Mrs. Shum.
"How the d— ," sayd he all the way, "how the d-dd — the
deddy — deddy — devil — could he have seen me twice I "
CHAPTER IV
IT was a sad slip ou Altaiuout's part, for no sooner did he go out
the next morning than missis went out too. She tor down the
street, and never stopped till she came to her pa's house at
Pentonwill. Slie was clositid for an hour with her ma, and when
she left her she drove straight to the City. She walked before the
Bank, and behind the Bank, and round the Bank : she came home
disperryted, having learned uothink.
And it was now an extraordinary thing that from Shum's house
for the next ten days there was nothing but expyditions into the
City. Mrs. S., tho' her dropsicle legs had never carred her half so
fur before, was eternally on the hey veve, as the French say. If
she didn't go. Miss Betsy did, or missis did : they seemed to have
an attrackshun to the Bank, and went there as natral as an omlibus.
At last one day, old Mrs. Slium comes to our house — (she wasn't
admitted wheu master was there, but came still in his absints) —
and she wore a hair of tryumph, as she entered. " Mary," says
she, "where is the money your husbind brought to you yesterday 1"
My master used always to give it to missis M'heu he returned.
" The money, ma ! " says Mary. " Why here ! " And pulling
out her puss, she showed a sovrin, a good heap of silver, and an
odd-looking little coin.
"That's it! that's it!" cried Mrs. S. "A Queene Anne's
sixpence, isn't it, dear — dated seventeen hundred and three 1 "
It was so sure enough : a Queen Ans sixpence of that very data
"Now, my love," says she, "I have found him-! Come witn
me to-morrow, and you shall know all ! "
And now comes the end of my story.
• ••••••
The ladies nex morning set out for the City, and I walked
behind, doing the genteel thing, witli a nosegy and a goold stick.
We walked down the New Road — we walked down the City
Road — we walked to tlie Bank. We were crossing from that
heddyfiz to the other side of Cornhill, when all of a sudden missis
shreeked, and fainted spontaceously away.
T rushed forrard, and raised her to my arms, spiling thereby a
MISS SHUM'S HUSBAND 255
new weskit and a pair of crimson smalcloes. I rushed forrard. I
say, very nearly knocking down tlie old swecjjcr vlio was lioliMing
away as fast as jjosibil. "We took licr to Birch's ; we jjiovided lier
with a hackney-coach and every lucksury, and carried her home to
Islingtoiu
■ •»•••
That night master never came home. Nor the nex uiglit, nor
the nex. On the fouith day an octioneer arrived ; he took an
infantry of the fiirnitur, and ])laced a hill in the window.
At the end of the wick Altamont made his appearance. He
was haggard and pale ; not so haggard, howe^'er, not so pale as his
miserable wife.
He looked at her very tendrilly. I may say, it's from him that
I coppied my look to Miss He looked at her very tendrilly
and held ont his arms. She gev a snffycating shreek, and nisht
into his nmhraces.
"Mary," says he, "you know all now. I have sold my place,
I have got three thousand j)oiniils for it, and saved two more. I've
sold my house and furnitur, juid that brings me another. "Well
go abroad and love caeh other, has formly."
And now you ask me, Who he was 1 I shudder to relate.
— Mr. Haltamont swep the crossing from the Bank to
CORNHILL ! !
Of cors, / left his servis. I met him, few years after, at
Badden-Badden, where he and Mrs. A. were much respectid and
pass for pipple of propaty
THE AMOURS OF MR, DEUCE ACE
DIMOND CUT DIMOND
THE name of my nex master -was, if posbil, still more ellygant
and youfoiiious tlian that of my fust. I now found myself
boddy servant to the Honrabble Halgernou Percy Deuceace,
youngest and fiftli son of the Earl of Crabs.
Halgernon was a barrystir — that is, he lived in Pump Cort,
Temple : a wulgar naybrood, witch praps my readers don't no.
Suffiz to say, it's on the confines of the Citty, and the choasen
aboad of the lawyers of this metra])polish.
When I say that Mr. Deuceace was a barrystir, I don't mean
that he went sesshums or surcoats (as they call 'em), but simply
that he kep chambers, lived in Pump Cort, and looked out for a
commitionarship, or a revisinship, or any other place tliat the Wig
guvvyment could give him. His father was a Wig pier (as the
lanckiss told me), and liad been a Toary pier. The fack is, his
Lordship was so poar, that lie would be anythiuk or nothink, to
get provisions for his sons and an inkum for himself.
I phansy that he aloud Halgernon -two himdred a year; and it
would have been a very comforable maintenants, only he knever
paid him.
Owever, the young genlmn was a genlmn, and no mistake ; he got
his allowents of nothing a year, and spent it in the most honrabble
and fashnabble manner. He kep a kab — he went to Holmax — and
Crockfud's — he moved in the most xquizzit suckles and trubbld the
law boox very little, I can tell you. Tliose fashnabble gents liave
ways of getten money, witch comman pipple doan't understand.
Though he only had a therd floar in Pump Cort, he lived as if he
had the welth of Cresas. Tlie tenpun notes floo abowt as common
as haypince — clarrit and shampang was at his house as vulgar as gin ;
and verry glad I was, to be sure, to be a valley to a zion of the nobillaty.
Deuceace had, in his sittin-room, a large pictur on a sheet of
paper. The names of his family was wrote on it : it was wrote in
the shape of a tree, a-groin out of a man-in-armer's stomick, and
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 257
the names were on little plates among the bows. The pictur said
that the Deuceaces kem into England in the year 106G, along with
William Conqueruns. My master called it liis podygree. I do
bleev it was because he had this pictur, and because he was the
HonrahhU Deuccacc, that he mannitched to live as he did. If he
had been a common man, vouM have said he Avas no better than a
swinler. It's only rank and buth tliat can warrant such singularities
as my master show'd. For it's no use disgysing it — the Honrabble
Halgernon was a gambler. For a man of wulgar family, it's the
wust trade that can be — for a man of common feelinx of honesty,
this profession is quite im])osl)il ; but for a real thornuglibread
genlnui, it's the esiest and most ])rophetable line he can take.
It may praps appear curious that such a fashnabble man should
live in the Temple; but it must be recklected, that it's not only
lawyers who live in what's called the Ins of Cort. Many batcliylers,
who have nothink to do with lor, have here their loginx ; and many
sham barrysters, who never put on a wig and gownd twisc in their
lives, kip apartments in the Temple, instead of Bon Street, Piekle-
dilly, or other fashnalible places.
Frinstance, on our stairkis (so these houses are called), there wa.s
8 sets of chamberses, and only 3 lawyers. These was bottom floar,
Screwson, Hewson, and Jewson, attorneys ; fust floar, ]\Ii-. Sergeant
Flabber — opsite, Mr. Counslor Brutty ; and secknd pair, Mr. Hagger-
stony, an Irish counslor, praktising at the Old Baly, and lickwise what
they call reporter to the Morning Post nyouspapper. Opsite him
was wrote
MR. RICHARD BLEWITT ;
and on the thud floar, with my master, lived one Mr. Dawkins.
This young fellow was a new-comer into the Temple, anxl un-
lucky it was for him too — he'd better have never been born ; foi
it's my firm apinion that the Temple ruined him— that is, with the
help of my master and Mr. Dick Blcwitt : as you shall hear.
Mr. Dawkins, as I was gave to understand by his young man,
had jest left the Universary of Oxford, and had a pretty little fortTi
of his own — six thousand pound, or so — in the stox. He was jest
of age, an orfin who had lost his father and mother ; and having
distinkwished hisself at Collitch, where he gained seffral jirices, was
come to town to jjush his fortn, and study the barryster's liisness.
Not bein of a very high faumdy hisself— indeed, I've heard say
ins father Avas a chismongei", or somethink of that lo sort — Dawkins
was glad to find his old Oxford frend, Mr. Blewitt, yonger son to
rich Squire Blewitt, of Listershire, and to take rooms so near him.
Now, tho' there was a considdrable intimacy betAveeu me and
X
258 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Mr. Blewitt's gentleman, there was scarcely any betwixt our masters,
— mine being too jnuch of the aristoxj* to associate with one of Mr.
Blewitt's sort. Blewitt was what they call a bettin man ; he went
reglar to Tattlesall's, kep a pony, wore a white hat, a blue berd's-
■eye handkerchcr, and a cut-away coat. In his manners he was tlie
very contrary of my master, who was a slim ellygant man as ever I
see — he had very white liauds, rayther .a sallow face, with sharp
dark ise, and small wiskus neatly trimmed and as black as Warren's
jet — he spoke very low and soft — he seemed to be watch in the
person with whom he was in couvysation, and always flatterd
everybody. As for Blewitt, he was quite of another sort. He
was always swearin, singing, and slappin people on the back, as
hearty as posbill. He seemed a merry, careless, honest cretur,
whom one would trust with life and soul. So thought Dawkins, at
least ; who, though a quiet young man, fond of his boox, novvles,
Byron's poems. Hoot-playing, and such like scientafic amuscmints,
grew hand in glove with honest Dick Blewitt, and soon after with
my master, the Honrabble Halgernon. Poor Daw ! he thought he
was makin good connexions and real fricmls — he had lalleu in Avith
a couple of the most etrocious swinlcrs that ever lived.
Before INIr. Dawkins's arrivial at our house, Mr. Deuceace had
barely condysended to sjieak to Mr. Blewitt ; it was only about a
month after that suckumstancc that my ma.ster, all of a sudding,
grcAV very friendly witli him. The reason was pretty clear, — Deuceace
tvanted him. Dawkins had not been an hour in master's company
before he know tliat lie had a jiidgin to pluck.
Blewitt knew this too : and bcin very fond of pidgin, intended to
keep this one entirely to himself. It was amusin to see the Hon-
rabble Halgernon manuvring to get this poor bird out of Blewitt's
clause, who thought he had it safe. In fact, lie'd brought Dawkins
to these chambers for that very porpos, thiid-cing to have liini under
his eye, and strip him at leisure.
My master very soon found out what was Mr. Blewitt's game.
Gamblers know gamblers, if not by instink, at least by reputation ;
and though ^Mr. Blewitt moved in a much lower sjiearc than Mr.
Deuceace, they knew each other's dealins and caractei-s puffickly well.
" Charles, you scoundrel," says Deuceace to me one day (he always
spoak in that kind way), " who is this person that has taken the
opsit chambers, and plays the floot so industrusly ?"
" It's Mr. Dawkins, a rich young gentleman from Oxford, and
a great friend of Mr. Blewittses, sir," says I ; "they seem to live in
each other's rooms."
Master said uothink, but he grin^d — my eye, how he did grin.
Not the fowl find himself could snear more sataunicklv.
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 259
I kne^y what he meant :
Imprimish. A man who plays the floot is a simpleton.
Seeknly. Mr. BleAvitt is a raskle.
Thirdmo. When a raskle and a simpleton is always together, and
when the simpleton is rich, one knows pretty well what will come of it.
I M-as but a lad in them days, luit I knew what was wdiat, as
well as my master; it's not gentlemen only that's up to snough.
Law bless us ! there Avas four of us on this stairkes, four as nice young
men as you ever see : Mr. Brufty's young man, Mr. Dawkinses, Mr.
Blewitt's, and me — and wc knew what our masters was al)out as
well as they did thcirselfs. Frinstance, I can say this for myself,
there Avasn't a paper in Deuceace's desk or draAver, not a lull, a note,
or mimeranduni, Avhieh I hadn't read as Avell as he : Avith Blewitt's it
Avas the same — me and his young man used to read 'em all. There
wasn't a bottle of Avine that aa^c didn't get a glass out of, nor a pound
of sugar that wq didn't have some lumps of it. We had keys to all
the cubbards — Ave ])ii">ped into all the letters that kem and Avcnt —
Ave pored over all the bill-fdes — Ave'd the best pickens out of the
dinners, the livvers of the fowls, the forcemit balls out of the soup,
the egs from the sallit. As for the coals and candles, avc left them
to the landrisses. You may call this robry — nonsince — it's oidy our
rights — a suvA'ant's purquizzits is as sacred as the laAvs of Hengland.
Well, the long and short of it is this. Richard BleAvitt, esquire,
AA'as sityouated as follow : He'd an ineum of tliree hundcrd a year from
Ins father. Out of this he had to pay one hunderd and ninety for
money borroAved by him at collidge, seventy for chambers, seA'enty
more for his boss, aty for his suvvant on bord wagis, and about tliree
hunderd and fifty for a sepparat establishment in the Regency Park ;
besides" this, his pockit-money, say a hunilerd, his eatin, drinkin, and
wine-marchant's bill, about tAvo hunderd moar. So that you see he
laid by a pretty handsome sum at the end of the year.
My master Avas diffrent ; and being a more fixshnable man than
Mr. B., in course he owed a deal more mony. There was fust : —
Account contyay, at Crockford's
Bills of xchange and I.O.U.'s (but he
didn't pay tliese in most cases)
21 tailors' bills, in all
3 hossdealers' do. ....
2 coachbuilder ....
Bills contracted at Cambridtch
Sundries . . . .
. £3711
. 4963
. 1306 11
9
402
506
. 2193 6
8
987 10
£14,069 8
5
26o MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
I give tliis as a ciirosity — pipple doan't kuow how in mauy
cases fashnabble life is carried on : and to know even what a real
srenlmn owes is soniethink instructif and aia'ceable.
But to my tail. The very day after my mii^ter had made the
inquiries concerning jMr. Dawkins, witch I mentioned already, he
met Mr. Blewitt on the stairs ; and byoutiffle it was to see how
this genlmn, who had before been almost cut by my master, was now
received by him. One of the sweetest smiles I ever saw Avas now
vizzable on Mr. Deuceace's countenance. He held out his hand,
covered with a white kid glove, and said, in the most frenly tone of
vice posbill, "Wliat? Mr. Blewitt? It is an age since we met.
What a shame that such near nayboi-s should see each other so
sekhnn ! ''
Mr. Blewitt, who was standing at his door, in a pe-green
dressing-gown, smoaking a se,g-ar, and singing a hunting coarus,
looked surprised, flattereil, and then suspicious.
"Why, yes," says ho, "it is, Mr. Deuccace, a long time."
"Not, I think, since we dined at Sir George Hookey "s. By-
the-byc, what an evening that was — hay, Mr. Blewitt ? What wine !
.what capital songs ! I recollect your ' IMay-day in the morning ' —
cuss me, the best coniick song I ever heard. I was speaking to the
Duke of Doncastcr about it onlv vestcrdav. You know the Duke,
I think?"
Mr. Blewitt said, quite surly, " No, I don't."
"Xot know him ! " cries master; "why, hang it, Blewitt! he
knows you; as every sporting man in England does, I should
think. Why, man, your good things are in everybody's mouth at
Newmarket."
And so master went on chaffin Mr. Blewitt. That geiflnui at
fust answered him quite short and angiy : but, after a little more
flummery, he grew as pleased as posbill, took in all Deuceace's flatry,
and bleeved all his lies. At last the door shut, and they botli went
into Mr. Blewitts chambers together.
Of course I can't say what past there ; but in an hour master
Icem up to his own room as yaller as mustard, and smellin sadly of
backo-smoke. I never see any genlmn more sick than he Avas :
he^d been smoah'ii sear/ms along with Blewitt. I said nothink, in
course, tho' I'd often heard him xpress his hon-ow of backo, and
knew very well he would as soon swallow pizon as smoke. But he
wasn't a chap to »lo a thing without a reason : if he'd been smoakin,
I warrant he had smoked to some porpus.
I didn't hear the convysation betwean 'em ; but Mr. Blewitt's
man did : it was, — " Well, ^Ir. Blewitt, what capital seagars !
Have you one for a friend to smoak 1 " (Tlie old fox, it wasn't only
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 261
the seagars he was a-smoakin !) " Walk in," says Mr. Blewitt ;
and they began a-chaffin together ; master verj' ankshous about the
young gintlcinan who had come to live in our chambers, Mr.
Dawkins, and always coming back to that subject, — saying that
people on the same stairkis ot to be frenly ; how glad he'd be, for
his part, to know Mr. Dick Blewitt, and any friend of his, and so
on. Mr. Dick, howsever, seamed quite aware of the trap laid for
him. " I really don't know this. Dawkins," says he : " he's a chis-
monger's son, I hear ; and tlio I've exchanged visits with liim, I
doan't intend to continyou the acquaintance, — not wishin to assoshate
with that kind of pij^ple." So they went on, master fishin, and
Mr. Blewitt not wishin to take the hook at no price.
"Confound the vulgar thief!" muttard my master, as he was
laying on his soj)hy, after being so very ill ; " I've jtoisoned myself
with liis infernal tobacco, and lie has foiled me. The cursed swindling
boor! he thinks he'll ruin this poor cheesemonger, does hel I'll
step in, and ^varn him."
I thought I should bust a-laffin, Avlien he talked in this stvle.
I knew very well what his " warning " m.eant, — lockin the stable-
door but stealin the boss fust.
Next day, his strattygam for becoming -acquainted with ]\Ir.
Dawkins we exicuted ; and very pritty it was.
Besides potry and the flute, Mr, Dawkins, I must tell you, had
some other parshallities — wiz., he was very fond of good eatin and
drinkin. After doddling over his music and boox all day, this
young genlmu used to sally out of evenings, dine sumptiously at a
tavern, drinkin all sots of wine along witli his friend Mr. Blewitt.
He was a quiet young fellow enough at fust ; but it Avas ]Mr. B.
who (for his own i)orpuses, no doubt) had got him into this kind of
life. AVell, I needn't say that he who eats a fine dinner, and drinks
too much overnight, wants a bottle of soda-water, and a gril, prai)s,
in the morning. Such was Mr. Dawkinses case ; and reglar almost
as twelve o'clock came, the waiter from "Dix Cofty-house" was to
be seen on our stairkis, bringing u]) Mr. D.'s ho! breakfast.
No man would have tliought tlio-e was anythink in stich a
trifling cirkumstance ; master did, though, and pounced upon it
like a cock on a barlycorn.
He sent me out" to ]\Ir. Morell's in Picklcdilly, for Avot's called
a Strasbug-pie— in French, a "patty dcfau graw." He takes a
card, and nails it on the outside case (patty deflxw graws conic
generally in a round wooden box, like a drumb) ; and what do you.
think he writes on it? why, as folios :—" i^or the Honoumhle
Algernon Percy Deuceace, &c. &c. &c. With Prince Talleyrand's
compliments.''
21
262 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Prince Tallyram's complimints, indeed ! I laff wlien I think of
it, still, the old surpint ! He ^vas a surpint, that Deuceace, and no
mistake.
Well, by a most extroruary piece of ill-luck, the nex day
punctially as Mr. Dawkinses brexfas was coming ujj the stairs,
Mr. Halgernon Percy Deuceace was going down. He was as gay
as a lark, humming an Oppra tune, and t^\'izzting round his head
his hevy gold-headed cane. Down he went very fast, and by a
most unlucky axdent struck his cane against the waiter's tray, and
away went Mr. Dawkinses gril, kayann, kitchup, soda-water and
all ! I can't think how my master should have choas such an exact
time ; to be sure, his windo looked upon the cort, and he could see
every one who came into our door.
As soon as the axdent had took jilace, master was in such a
rage as, to be sure, no man ever was in befor ; he swoar at the
waiter in the most dreddfle way ; he threatened him with his stick,
and it was only wlien he see that the waiter was raythcr a l>igger
man than hisself that he was in the least pazzjiied. He returned
to his own chambres ; and John, the waiter, went off for more gril
to Dixcs Coffy-house.
" This is a most luducky axdent, to be sure, Charles," says
master to me, after a few minits paws, during witch he had been
and wrote a note, put it into an anvelope, and sealed it with his
big seal of arms. " But stay — a thought strikes me — take this
note to Mr. Dawkins, and that pye you brought yesterday ; and
hearkye, you scoundrel, if you say where you got it I will break
every bone in your skin ! "
These kind of promnuses were among the few which I knew
him to keep : and as I loved boath my skinn and my boans, I
carried the noat, and of cors said nothink. "Waiting in Mr.
Dawkinses chambus for a few minnits, I returned to my master
with an anscr. I may as well give both of these documencc, of
which I happen to have taken coppies : —
The Hon. A. P. Deuceace to T. S. DawJdns, Esq.
' ' Te.mple : Tuesday.
" Mr. Deuceace presents his compliments to Mr. Dawkins, and
begs at the same time to offer his most sincere apologies and regrets
for the accident which has just taken place.
" May Mr. Deuceace be allowed to take a neighbour's privilege,
and to remedy the evil he has occasioned to the best of his power 1
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 263
If Mr. Dawkius will do him the favour to partake of the contents of
the accompanying case (froni Strasbourg direct, and the gift of a
friend, on whose taste as a gourmand Mr. Dawkins may rely), per-
haps he will find that it is not a l)ad substitute for the pl'it wliich
Mr. Deuceace's awkwardness destroyed.
" It will also, Mr. Deuceace is sure, be no small gratification to
the original donor of the jxtte when he learns that it has follen into
the hands of so celebrate(l a hon vivant as Mr. Dawkins.
" T. S. Dawkins, Esq., dr. cCr. dx."
II
Frotn T. S. Baivkins, Esq., to the Hon. A. P. Deuceace.
"Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins presents his grateful compli-
ments to the Hon. Mr. Deuceace, and accepts with the greatest
pleasure Mr. Deuceace's generous proffer.
" It would be one of the happie&t moments of Mr. Smith Daw-
kius's life, if the Hon. Mr. Deuceace would extend his (jenerosity
still further, and condescend to partake of the repast wliich liis
tminificent j^oliteness has furnished.
"Temple: Tuesday."
Many and many a time, I say, have I grin'd over these letters,
which I had wrote from the original by Mr. Brufty's copyin dark.
Deuceace's flara about Prince Tallyram was pufhckly successful.
I saw young Dawkins IjIusIi with delite as he red the note ; he
toar up for or five sheets before he composed the answer to it, whicli
was as you red abuff, and roat in a hand quite trembling with
pleasyer. If you could but have seen the look of triumpli in
Deuceace's wicked black eyes, when he read the noat ! I never
see a deamin yet, but I can pliansy 1, a holding a writhing ^oa\ on
his pitchfrock, and smiliu like Deuceace. He dressed himself in
his very best clothes, and in he went, after sending me over to say
that he would xcept with pleasyour Mr. Dawkins's invite.
The pie was cut up, and a most frenly conversation l)cgun
betwixt the two genlmin. Deuceace was quite cax>tivating. He
spoke to Mr. Dawkins in the most respeckful and flatrin manner,
— agread in everythiuk he said, — prazed his taste, his fnrniter, his
coat, his classick nolledge, and his playin on the floot ; you'd have
thought, to hear him, that such a polygon of exlens as Dawkins
did not breath, — that such a modist, sinsear, honrabble genlmn as
Deuceace was to be seen nowhere xcept in Pump Cort. Poor Daw
was complitly taken in. My master said he'd introduce him to
264 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
the Duke of Doncaster, and Heaven knows how many nobs more,
till Dawkins was quite intawsicated with pleasyour. I know as a
fac (and it pretty well shows the young genlmn's carryter), that he
went that very day and ordered 2 new coats, on porpos to be intro-
juiced to the lords in.
But the best joak of all was at last. Singin, swagrin, and
swarink — upstares came Mr. Dick Blewitt. He flung open Mr.
Dawkins's door, shouting out, " Daw, my old buck, how are you"?"
when, all of a sudden, he sees IMr. Deuceace : his jor dropt, lie
turned chocky white, and then burnin red, and looked as if a stror
would knock him down. " ]\Iy dear ]\Ir. Blewitt," says my master,
smilin and oftring his hand, " how glad I am to see you. Mr.
DaAvkins and I were just talking about your pony ! Pray sit down."
Blewitt did ; and now was the question, who should sit the
other out ; but law bless you ! Mr. Blewitt was no match for my
master : all the time he was fidgetty, silent, and sulky ; on the
contry, master was charmin. I never herd such a flo of conver-
satin, or so many wittacisms as he uttered. At last, completely
beat, Mr. Blewitt took his leaf: that instant master followed him,
' and passin his arm through that of Mr. Dick, led him into our
chambers, and began talkin to him in the most affabl and afFeckshnat
manner.
But Dick was too angry to listen ; at last, when master was
telling him some long story about the Duke of Doncaster, Blewitt
bm'st out —
"A plague on the Duke of Doncaster! Come, come, Mr.
Deuceace, don't you be running your rigs upon me ; I ain't the
man to be bamboozl'd by long-winded stories about dukes and
duchesses. You think I don't know you ; every man knows you and
your line of country. Yes, you're after young Dawkins there, and
think to pluck him ; but you shan't, — no, by you shan't." (The
reader must recklect that the oaths which interspussed Mr. B.'s
convysation I have left out.) Well, after he'd fired a woUey of 'em,
Mr. Deuceace spoke as cool as possbill.
" Heark ye, Blewitt. I know you to be one of the most infernal
thieves and scoundrels unhi:ng. If you attempt to hector ■with me,
I will cane you ; if you want more, I'll shoot you ; if you meddle
between me and Dawkins, I will do both. I know your whole life,
you miserable swindler and coward. I know you have already won
two hundred jwunds of this lad, and want all. I will have half, or
you never shall have a penny." It's quite true that master knew
things ; but how was the wonder.
I couldn't see Mr. B.'s face during this dialogue, bein on the
wrong side of the door ; but there was a considdrable paws after thuse
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 265
complymints had passed between the two genlmn, — one walkin
quickly up and down the room, — totlier, angiy and stupid, sittiu
down, and stampin with his foot.
"Now listen to this, Mr. Blewitt," continues master at last.
" If you're quiet, you shall half this fellow's money : but venture
to win a shilling from him in my absence, or Avithout my consent,
and you do it at your peril."
" Well, well, Mr. Deuceace," cries Dick, " it's very hard, and I
must say, not fair : the game was of my startin, and you've no riglit
to interfere Avith my friend."
" JMr. Blewitt, you are a fool ! You professed yesterday not to
kn(iw this man, and I was obliged to find liim out for myself. I
should like to know by what law of lionour I am bound to give him
up to you ? "
It was charmin to hear this pair of raskles talking about honour.
I declare I could have found it in my heart to warn yoimg Dawkins
of the precious way in whicli these chaps were going to serve him.
But if tliey didn't know what h(inour was, / did ; and never, never
did I tell tails about my masters wlien in their sarvice — out, in
cors, the hobligation is no longer binding.
Well, the nex day there was a gi'an dinner at our chambers.
White soop, turbit, and lobstir sos ; saddil of Scoch muttn, grous,
and M'Arony ; wines, shampang, hock, jnaderia, a bottle of i)oart,
and ever so many of clarrit. The comitny jjresint was three ; wiz.,
the Honrabble A. P. Deuceace, R. Blewitt, and Mr. Dawkins,
Exquires. My i, how we genlmn in the kitchin did enjy it. IMr.
Blewittes man eat so much grous (wlien it was brot out of the
parlor), that I reely thought he would be sik ; ]Mr. Dawkinses
genlmn (who was only abowt 13 years of age) gi-ew so il with
M'Arony and plumb-puddn, as to be obleeged to take sefral of Mr.
D.'s pils, which ^ kild him. But this is all promiscuous : I an't
talkin of the survants now, but the masters.
Would you bleeve it 1 After dinner and praps 8 bottles of wine
between the 3, the genlmn sat down to ecarty. It's a game whore
only 2 plays, and where, in coarse, when there's only 3, one looks on.
Fust, they playd crown pints, and a pound the bett. At this
game they were wonderful equill ; ami about supper-time (when
grilled am, more shampang, devld biskits, and other things, wa-s
brot in) the play stood thus : Mr. Dawkins had ^^•on L' jiounds ;
Mr. Blewitt, 30 shillings : the Honrabble Mr. Deuceace having lost
£3, 10s. After the devvle and the shampang the play was a little
higher. Now it was pound pints, and five pound the bet. I tliouglit,
to" be sure, after hearing the complymints between Blewitt and
master in the morning, that now poor I)awkins's time vras come.
266 MEMOIRS OF ME. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Not so : Dawkins won always, Mr. B. betting on his play, and
giving him tlie very best of advice. At the end of the evening
(which was abowt five o'clock the nex morning) they stopt. Master
was counting up the skore on a card.
"Blewitt," says he, "I've been unlucky. I owe you — let me
see — yes, five-and-forty pounds 1 "
" Five-and-forty," says Blewitt, '.' and no mistake ! "
" I Avill give you a cheque," says tlie honrabble genlmn.
"Oh ! don't mention it, my dear sir ! " But master got a grate
sheet of paper, and drew him a check on Messeers. Pump, Algit,
and Co., his bankers.
"Now," says master, "I've got to settle with you, my dear Mr.
Dawkins. If you had backd your luck, I should have owed you a
very handsome siun of money. Voi/ons, thirteen points at a pound —
it is easy to calculate ; " and drawin out his puss, he clinked over
the table 13 goolden suverings, which shon till they made my
eyes wink.
So did pore Dawkinses, as he put out his hand, all trembling,
and drew them in.
"Let me say," adiled master, "let me say (and I've had some
little experience), that you are the very best ecarte player with
whom I ever sat down."
Dawkinses eyes glissened as he put the money up, and said,
"Law, Deuceace, you flatter me."
Flatter him ! I should think he did. It was the very think
Avhich master mcnt.
" But mind you, Dawkins," continyoud he, " I must have mj^
revenge ; for I'm ruined — positively ruined — by your luck."
" Well, well," says Mr. Thomas Smith Dawkins, as pleased as if he
had gaineda millium, "shall it be to-morrow? Ble^\^tt, what say you?"
Mr. Blewitt agreed, in course. ]\Iy master, after a little demur-
ring, consented too. "We'll meet," says he, "at your chambers.
But mind, my dear fello, not too much wine : I can't stand it at any
time, especially when I have to i)lay ecarte with you."
Pore Dawkins left our rooms as happy as a prins. " Here,
Charles," says he, and flung me a sovring. Pore fellow ! pore
fellow ! I knew what was a-comin !
But the best of it was, that these 13 sovrings which Dawkins won,
master had borrowed them from Mr. Blewitt ! I brought 'em, with
7 more, from that young genlmu's chandlers that very morning : for,
since his interview with master, Blewitt had nothing to refuse him.
Well, shall I continue the tail ? If Mr. Dawkins had been the
least bit wiser, it woidd have taken him six months befoar he lost
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 267
his money ; as it was, he was such a coufunded ninny, that it took
him a very short time to part with it.
Nex day (it was Tlnirsday, and master's acquaintance with
Mr. Dawkius had only commenced on Tuesday), Mr. Dawkins, as
1 said, gev his party, — dinner at 7. Mr. Blcwitt and the two
Mr. D.'s as bofoar. Play begins at 11. This time I knew the
bisness was pretty serious, for we suvvants was packed off to bed at
2 o'clock. On Friday, I went to chand:)ers — no master — he kern in
for 5 minutes at al)out 12, made a little toilit, ordered more devvles
and soda-water, and back again he went to Mr. Dawkins's.
They had dinner there at 7 again, but nobody seamed to eat,
for all the vittles came out to us genlmn : they had in more
wine though, and must have drunk at least two dozen in the 36
hours.
At ten o'clock, however, on Friday night, back my master came
to his chambers. I saw him as I never saw him before, namly,
reglar drunk. He staggered about the room, he danced, he hickipd,
he swoar, he flung me a heap of silver, and, finely, he sunk ilown
exosted on his bed ; I pullin off" his boots and close, and making
him comfrabble.
When I had removed his garmints, I did what it's the duty of
every servant to do — I emtied his pockits, and looked at his pockit-
book and all his letters : a number of axdents liave been prevented
that way.
I found there, among a heap of things, the following pretty
dockyment : —
LO.U.
£4700.
Thomas Smith Dawkins.
Friday, 1 Uh January.
There was another lit of paper of the same kind — "I.O.U.
four hundred pounds : Richard Blewitt : " but this, in corse, meut
nothink.
Nex mornin, at nine, master Avas up, and as sober as a judg.
He drest, and was oft' to Mr. Dawkins. At ten, he ordered a cab,
and the two gentlmn went together.
268 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
" Where shall he drive, sir 1 " says I.
"Oh, tell him to drive to the Bank."
Pore Dawkius ! his eyes red with remors and .sleepliss drunken-
niss, gave a shudder aud a sob, as he sunk back in the wehicle ;
and they drove on.
That day he sold out every hapny he was worth, xcept five
hundred pounds.
• ••••••
Abowt 12 master had returned, and Mr. Dick Blewitt came
stridin up the stairs with a solium and important hair.
" Is your master at home ? " says he.
"Yes, sir," says I ; and in he walks. I, in coars, with my ear
to the keyhole, listning with all my mite.
" Well," says Blewitt, " we maid a pretty good night of it, Mr.
Deuceace. Yu've settled, I see, with Dawkins."
" Settled ! " says master. " Oh yes — yes — I've settled with
him."
" Four thousand seven hundred, I think ? "
" About that— yes."
"That makes my share — let me see — two thousand three
hundred and fifty ; which I'll thank you to fork out."
"Upon my word — why— Mr. Blewitt," says master, "I don't
really understand what you mean."
" Yon don't Jmow tckat I mean ! " says Blewitt, in an axent
such cxs I never before heard. " You don't know what I mean !
Did you not promise me that we were to go shares'? Didn't
I lend you twenty sovereigns the other night to pay our
losings to Dawkins ? Didn't you swear, on your honour as a
gentleman, to give me half of all that might be won in this
atfair ? "
"Agreed, sir," says Deuceace; "agreed."
" Well, sir, and now what have you to say ? "
" Why, that I donH intend to heep my promise ! You infernal
fool and ninny ! do you suppose I was labouring for ?/ow / Do you
fancy I was going to the expense of giving a dinner to that jackass
yonder, that you should profit by it 1 Get away, sir ! Leave the
room, sir ! Or, stop — here — I Avill give you four hundred pounds —
your own note of hand, sir, for that sum, if you will consent to
forget all that has passed between us, and that you have ever known
Mr. Algernon Deuceace."
I've seen pipple angery before now, but never any like Blewitt.
He stormed, groaned, helloed, swoar ! At last, he fairly began
blubbring; now cussing and nashing his teeth, now i^raying dear
Mr, Deuceace to grant him mercy.
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 269
At last, master flung open the door (Heaven bless us ! it's weU
I didn't tuml:)le hed over eels into tlie room !), and suid, " Cliarles,
show the gentleman downstairs ! " My master looked at him quite
steddy. BleAvitt slunk down, as misrabble as any man I ever see.
As for Dawkins, Heaven knows where he was !
" Charles," says my master to me, about an hour afterwards,
"I'm going to Paris; you may come, too, if you please."
FORING PARTS
IT was a singular proof of iny master's modesty, that tlioiigh he
had won this andsome sum of ]Mr. Dawkins, and was inclined to
be as extravygant and osntatious as any man I ever seed, yet,
when he determined on going to Paris, lie didn't let a single frend
know of all them winnings of his ; didn't acquaint my Lord Crabs his
father that he was about to leave his natiff shoars — neigh — didn't
even so much as call together his tradesmin, and pay off their little
bills befor his departiu-e.
On the coutry, . " Chawles," said he to mc, " stick a piece of
paper on my door," which is the way that lawyers do, "and write
' Back at seven ' upon it." Back at seven I wrote, and stuck it
on our outer oak. And so mistearus was Dcuceace about his con-
tinental tour (to all except me), that when the landriss brought him
her account for the livst month (amountain, at the very least, to
£2, 10s.), master told her to leave it till Monday morning, when
it should be properly settled. It's extrodny how ickonomical a man
becomes, when he's got five thousand lbs. in his pockit.
Back at 7 indeed ! At 7 we were a-roalin on the Dover
Road, in the Reglator Coach — master inside, mc out. A strange
company of people there was, too, in that wehicle, — 3 sailors ; an
Italyin with his music-box and munky ; a missionary, going to
convert tlie heathens in France ; 2 oppra girls (they call 'em figure-
aunts), and tlie figure-aunts" mothers inside ; 4 Frenchmin, with
gingybred caps and mustashes, singing, chattering, and jesticklating
in the most vonderful vay. Su(;h conii)liments as passed between them
and the figure-aunts ; such a munshin of biskits and sippin of brandy !
such " mong Jews," and " O sacrrres," and " kill fay frwaws ! "
I ditlu't understand their languidge at that time, so of course can't
igsplain much of their conwersation ; but it pleased me, nevertheless,
for now I felt that I was reely going into foring parts : which, ever
sins I had had any edication at all, was always my fondest wisli.
Heavin bless us ! thought I, if these are specimeens of all Frenchmen,
what a set they must be. The pore Italyin's munky, siitin mojiin
and meluncolly on his box, was not half so ugly, and seamed quite as
reasonabble.
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 271
Well, we arrived at Dover — " Ship Hotel " — weal cutlets half
a ginny, glas of ale a shilling, gins of neagush half-a-crownd, a
hapnyworth of wax-lites four shillings, and so on. But master
paid without grumbling ; as long as it was for himself he never
minded the expens : and nex day we embarked in the packit for
Balong-sir-mare — which means in French, the town of Balong
sityouated on the sea. I who had heard of foring wonders, expected
this to be the fust and greatest : phansy, then, my disapintmcnt,
when we got there, to find this Balong not situated on the sea, but
on the shoar.
But oh ! the gettiu there was the bisniss. How I did wish
for Pump Court agin, as we were tawsing abowt in the Channel !
Gentle readei', av you ever been on the otion 1 — " The sea, the
sea, the open sea ! " as Barry Cromwell says. As soon as we
entered our little wessel, and I'd looked to master's luggitch and
mine (mine was rapt up in a very small hankercher), as soon, I
say, as we entered our little wessel, as soon as I saw the Avaives,
black and frothy, like fresh-drawn porter, a-dashin against the ribs
of our galliant bark, the keal like a wedge, splittin the billoes in
two, the sales a-flaflin in the hair, the standard of Hengland floating
at the mask-head, the steward a-getting ready the basins and things,
the capting proudly tredding the deck and giving orders to the
salers, the white rox of Albany and the bathin-masheens disappearing
in the distans — then, then I felt, for the first time, the mite, tlic
madgisty of existence. " Yellowplush, my boy," said I, in a dialogue
v/ith myself, " your life is now about to commens— your carear, as
a man, dates fi-om your entrans on hoard this packit. Be wise, be
manly, be cautious, forgit the follies of your youth. You are no
longer a boy now, but a footman. Throw down your tops, your
marbles, your boyish games — throw off your childish babbits with
your inky clerk's jackit — throw up yom- "
Here, I recklect, I was obleeged to stopp. A fealin, in the
fust place singlar, in the next place painful, and at last compleatly
overpowering, had come upon me while I was making the abiiff
speach, and now I found myself in a sityouation which Dellixy I'or
Bids me to describe. Suffis to say, that now I dixcovered what
basins was made for— that for many, many hours, I lay in a
hagony of exostion, dead to all intense and porposes, the rain
pattering in my face, the salers tramplink over my body— the
panes of purgatory going on inside. When we'd been about four
hours in this sityouation (it seam'd to me four ears), the stewanl
comes to that part of the deck where we servants were all huddled
up together, and calls out " Charles ! "
272 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
"Well," says I, gurgling out a faint "yes, what's the matter?"
"You're wanted."
" Where r'
" Your master's wery ill," says he, with a grin.
" Master be hanged ! " says I, turning round, more misrable
than ever. I woodn't have moved that day for twenty thousand
masters — no, not for the Empror of Russia or the Pop of Room.
Well, to cut tills sad subjik short, many and many a voyitch
have I sins had upon what Shakspm- calls the " wasty dip," but
never such a retched one as that from Dover to Balong, in the year
Anna Domino 1818. Steemcrs were scarce in those days; and
our journey was made in a smack. At last, when I was in a stage
of despare and exostion, as reely to phansy myself at Death's doar,
we got to the end of our journey. Late in the evening we hailed
the Gaelic slioars, and hankered in the arbour of Balong-sir-mare.
It was the entrans of Parrowdice to me and master : and as we
entered the calm water, and saw the comfrablile lights gleaming in
tlie houses, and felt the roal of the vessel degreasing, never was two
mortiuls glailder, I warrant, than we were. At length our capting
drew up at the key, and our journey was down. But such a bustle
and clatter, such jabbering, such shrieking and swaring, such wollies
of oafs and axicrations as saluted us on landing, I never knew ! We
were boarded, in the fust place, by custom-house officers in cock-
hats, who seased our lug.gitch, and called for our passpots : then a
crowd of inn-waiters came tumbling and screaming on deck — "Dis
way, sarc," cries one ; " Hutel ^Mcurice," says another ; " Hotel de
Baiig," screeches another chap — the tower of Babyle was nothink to
it. The fust thing that struck me on landing was a liig fellow with
earrings, who very nigh knock me down, in wrenching master's
carpet-bag out of my hand, as I was carrying it to the hotell. But
Ave got to it safe at last ; and, for the fust time in my life, I slep in
a foring ccnuitry.
I shan't describe this town of Balong, which, as it has been
visited by not less (on an avaridg) than two milliums of English
since I fust saw it twenty years ago, is tolrabbly well known already.
It's a dingy, mcllumcolly place, to my mind ; the only thing moving
in the streets is the gutter which runs down 'em. As for wooden
shoes, I saw few of 'em ; and for frogs, upon my honour I never sec
a single Frenchman swallc^v one, which I had been led to beleave
was their reg'lar, though beastly, custom. One thing which amazed
me was the singlar name which they give to this town of Balong.
It's divided, as everyboddy knows, into an upper town (sitouate on
a mounting, and surrounded by a wall, or hulbjvar) and a lower
town, which is on the level of the sea. Well, will it be believed
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 273
that tliey call the up})cr town the Hot Veal, and the otlier the Base
Veal, which is on the coiitry genrally good in Franee, though the
beat, it must be contest, is exscrabble.
It was in the Base Veal that Deuceacc took his ludgian, at the
Hotel de Bang, in a very crooked street called the liue del Ascew ;
and if lieM lieen the Archbishop of Devonshire, or the Duke of
Canterbury, he could not have given himself greater hairs, I can
tell you. Nothink was too fine for us now ; v.'c had a sweet of
rooms on the first-floor which belonged to the prime minister of
France (at least the landlord said they were the lyremier's) ; and
the Hon. Algernon Percy Deuceace, who had not paid his landriss,
and came to Dover in a coach, seamed now to think that goold was
too vulgar for him, and a carridge and six would break doAvn witli a
man of his weight. Shampang flew about like ginger-pop, Ix^sides
bordo, clarit, burgundy, burgong, and other wines, and all the delixcs
of the Balong kitchins. We stopped a fortnit at this difll place, and
did nothing from morning till night excep walk on the . beach, and
watch the ships going in and out of arber, with one of them long
sliding opra-glasses, which they call, I don't know why, tallow-scoops.
Our amusements for the fortnit we stopped here were boath numerous
and daliteful ; nothink, in fact, could be more pich/mj, as they say.
In the morning before breakfast we boath walked on the Peer;
master in a blue mareen jackit, and me in a slap-up new livry ;
both provided with long sliding opra-glasses, called as I said (I don't
know Y, but I sujipose it's a scientafick term) tallow-scoops. AVith
these we igsamined, very attentively, the otion, the seaweed, the
pebbles, the dead cats, the fishwimmin, and the waives (like little
children playing at leap-frog), which came tumlding over 1 another
on to the shoar. It seemed to me as if they were scrambling to get
there, as well they might, being sick of the sea, and anxious for the
blessid peaceable terry fir my.
After brexfast, down Ave went again (that is, master on his beat,
and me on mine, — for my place in this foring town Avas a comjilete
shinycurc), and putting our tally-scoops again in our eyes, Ave
egsamined a little more the otion, pebbils, dead cats, and so on ;
and this lasted till dinner, and dinner till bed-time, and bed-time
lasted till nex day, Avhen came brexfast, and dinner, and tally-
scooping, as before. This is the Avay Avith all people of this town,
of which, as I've heard say, there is ten thousand luippy English,
who lead this plesnt life from year's end to year's end.
Besides this, there's billiards and gambling for the gentlemen,
a little dancing for the gals, and scandle for the dowygers. In none
of these amusements did Ave partake. We were a little too good to
play croAAai pints at cards, and never get paid when we won ; or to
274 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
go dangling after the portionless gals, or amuse ourselves with slops
and penny-wist along with the old ladies. No, no ; my master was
a man of fortn now, and behayved himself as sich. If ever he
condysended to go into the public room of the Hotel de Bang the
French (doubtless for reasons best known to themselves) call this
a sallymanjy — he swoar more and lowder than any one there ; he
abyoused the waiters, the wittles, the wines. With his glas in
his i, he staired at everybody. He took always the place" before
the fire. He talked about "my carridge," "my currier," "my
servant ; ^' and he did wright. I've always found through life, that
if you wish to be respected by English people, you must be insalent
to them, especially if you are a sprig of nobiliaty. "We lil-e being
insulted by noblemen, — it shows they're familiar with us. Law
bless us ! I've known many and many a genhnn about town who'd
rather be kicked by a lord than not be noticed by jdm : they've
even had an aw of me, because I was a lord's footman. While my
master was hectoring in the parlor, at Balong, pretious airs I gave
myself in the hitching, I can tell you : and the consequints Avas,
that we were better served, and moar liked, than many ])ipple with
twice our merit.
Deuceace liad some particklar plans, no doubt, which kep him
so long at Balong ; and it clearly Avas his wish to act tlie man of
fortune there for a little time before he tried the character at Paris,
He purchased a can-idge, he hired a currier, he rigged me in a fine
new livry blazin witli lace, and he past tlirough "the Balong bank
a thousand pounds of the money he had Avon from Dawkins^ to his
credit at a Paris house ; showing the Balong bankers, at the same
time, that he'd plenty moar in his potfolie. This was killin two
birds with one stone; the bankers' clerks spread the nuse over
the town, and in a day after master had paid the money every
old dowyger in Balong had looked out the Crabs' family podigree
in the Poeridge, and was (juite intimate with tlie Deuceace name
and estates. If Sattu himself Averc a lord, I do beleave there's
many vurtuous English mothers would be glad to have him for a
son-in-law.
Now, thougli my master had thought fitt to leave town without
excommunicating with his father on the subject of his intended
continental tripe, as soon as he was settled at Balong he roat my
Lord Crabbs a letter, of which I happen to have a copy. It ran
thus : —
"Boulogne: January 2^.
" My dear Father, — I have long, in the course of my legal
studies, found the necessity of a knowledge of French, in which
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 275
language all the early history of our profession is written, and have
determined to take a little relaxation from chamber reading, which
has seriously injured niy health. If my modest finances can bear
a two months' journey, and a residence at Paris, I proi)ose to
remain there that period.
" Will you have the kindness to send me a letter of introduction
to Lord Bobtail, our Ambassador 1 My name and your old fri(>nd-
ship with him I know would secure me a reception at his liuuse ;
but a pressing letter from yourself would at once be more courteous,
and more eff"ectual.
" May I also ask you for my last quarter's salary 1 I ana not
an expensive man, my dear father, as you know ; but we are no
chameleons, and fifty pounds (with my little earnings in my ^jro-
fession) would vastly add to the acjremens of my Continental
excursion.
" Present my love to all my brothers and sisters. Ah ! how I
wish the hard i)orti(3n of a younger son had not been mine, and that
I could live without the dire necessity for labour, hajjpy among the
rural scenes of my childhood, and in the society of my dear sisters
and you ! Heaven bless you, dearest father, and all those beloved
ones now dwelling under the dear old roof at Sizes. — Ever your
aff"ectionate son Algernon.
" The Right Hon. the Earl of Crabs, d-c.
"Sizes Court, Bucks."
To this affeckshnat letter his Lordship replied, by return of
poast, as folios : —
" My DExiR Algernon,— Your letter came safe to hand, and I
enclose you the letter for Lord Bobtail as you desire. He is a kind
man, and has one of the best cooks in Europe.
"We were all charmed with your warm remembrances of us, not
having seen you for seven years. We cannot but be pleased at the
family affection Avliich, in spite of time and absence, still clings so
fondly to home. It is a sad sellish world, and very few who have
entered it can afford to keep those fresh feelings which you have,
my dear son,
" May you long retain them, is a fond father's earnest prayer.
Be sure, dear Algernon, that they Avill be through life your greatest
comfort, as well as your best worldly ally ; consoling you in mis-
fortune, cheering you in depression, aiding and inspiring you to
exertion and success.
" I am sorry, truly sony, that my account at Coutts's is so low,
just now, as to render a payment of your allowance for tlie present
276 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
impossible. I see by my book that I owe you now nine quarters,
or ^450. Depend on it, my dear boy, that they shall be faithfully
paid over to you on the first opportunity.
"By the way, I have enclosed some extracts from the ne-ws-
papers, which may interest you : and have received a very strange
letter from a Mr. Blewitt, about a play transaction, which, I sup-
pose, is the case alluded to in these prints. He says you won
£4700 from one Dawkins : that the lad paid it ; that he,'Blewitt,
was to go what he calls 'snacks' in the winning; but that you
refused to share the booty. How can you, my dear boy, quarrel
with these vulgar people, or lay yourself in any way open to their
attacks ? I have played myself a good deal, and there is no man
living who can accuse me of a doubtful act. You should either
have shot this Blewitt or jwid him. Now, as the matter stands, it
is too late to do the former ; and, perhaiis, it would be Quixotic to
perform the latter. My dearest boy ! recollect through life that
you never can afford to be dishonest ivith a rogue. Four thousand
seven hundred pounds was a great coujy, to be sure.
" As you are now in such high feather, can you, dearest Alger-
non ! lend me five hvmdred pounds 1 Upon my soul and honour, I
will repay you. Your brothers and sisters send you their love. I
need not add, that you have always the blessings of your affectionate
father, Crabs.
"P..S'. — Make it 500, and I will give you my note-of-hand for
a thousand."
• ••••••
I needn't say that this did not quite enter into Deuceace's
eyedears. Lend his father 500 pound, indeed ! He'd as soon have
lent him a box on the year ! In the fust place, he hadn seen old
Crabs for seven years, as that nobleman remarked in his epistol ;
in the secknd he hated him, and they hated each other ; and nex,
if master had loved his father ever so much, he loved somebody
else better — his father's son, namely : and sooner than deprive that
exlcnt young man of a penny, he'd have scan all the fathers in the
world hangin at Ncwgat, and all the " beloved ones," as he called
his sisters, the Lady Deuccacisses, so many convix at Bottomy Bay.
The newspaper parrografs showed that, how^ever secret ive wished
to keep the i)lny transaction, the jKiblic knew it now full well.
Blewitt, as I ibund after, was the author of the libels which appeared
right and left : —
"Gambling ix High Life — The Honourable Mr. De-c — ce
^gain ! — This celebrated whist-player has turned his accomplish
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 277
ments to some profit. On Friday, the 16tli January, he -won five
thousand pounds from a very young gentleman, Th-m-s Sm-th
D-wk-ns, Esq., and lost two thousand five hundred to R. Bl-w-tt,
Esq., of the T-mple. Mr. D. very honourably paid the sum lost
by him to the honourable whist-player, but we have not heard that,
before his sudden trip to Paris, Mr. D-uc — ce paid his losings to
Mr. Bl-w-tt."
Nex came a " Notice to Corryspondents " : —
" Fair Play asks us, if we know of the gambling doings of the
notorious Deuceace 1 We answer, We do ; and, in our very next
Number, propose to make some of them public,"
They didn't appear, however ; but, on the contry, the very same
newspeper, which had been before so abusiff" of Deuceace, was now
loud in his i^raise. It said : —
" A paragraph was inadvertently admitted into our paper of last
week, most unjustly assailing the character of a gentleman of liigh
birth and talents, the son of the exemplary E-rl of Cr-lis. AYe
repel, "with scorn and indignation, the dastardly falsehoods of the
malignant slanderer who vilified Mr. De-ce-ce, and beg to oft'er
that gentleman the only reparation in our power for having thus
tampered with his unsullied name. AVe disbelieve the ruffian and
his story, and most sincerely regTCt that such a tale, or such a
uTtter, should ever have been brought forward to the readers of
this paper."
This was satisfactory, and no mistake ; and much pleased we
were at the denial of this conshentious editor. So much pleased
that master sent him a ten-pound noat, and his complymints.
He'd sent another to the same address, he/ore this parrowgralf
was printed ; why, I can't think ; for I woodn't suppose anything
musnary in a littery man.
AVeil, after this bisniss Avas concluded, the currier hired, the
carridge smartened a little, and me set up in my new livries, we
bade ojew to Bulong in the grandest state posbill. AVhat a figure
we cut ! and, my i, what a figger the postillion cut ! A cock-hat, a
jackit made out of a cow's skin (it was in cold weather), a pig-tale
about 3 fit in length, and a pair of boots ! Oh, sich a pare ! ^ A
bishop might almost have preached out of one, or a modrat-sized
fiimly slep in it. Me and Mr. Schwigshhnaps, the currier, sate
behind in the nunljill ; master aloan in the inside, as grand as a
23
278 MEMOIES OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Turk, and rapt up in his fine fir-cloak. Off we sett, bowing gracefly
to the crowd ; the harniss-bells jinglin, the great white hosses
snortin, kickin, and squeehn, and the postihum crackin his wip, as
loud as if he'd been dri-s^in her majesty the quean.
Well, I sjian't describe our voyitch. We passed sefral sitties,
willitches, and mctrappolishes ; sleeping the fust night at Amiens,
witch, as every boddy knows, is famous ever since the year 1802 for
what's called the Pease of Amiens. We had some, very good, done
with sugar and bro^\^l sos, in the Amiens way. But after all the
boasting about them, I think I like our marrowphats better.
Speaking of wedgytables, another singler axdent hajipened here
concarning them. Master, who was brexfasting before going away,
told me to go and get him his fur travling-shoes. I went and toald
the waiter of the imi, who stared, grinned (as these chaps always
do), said "7)0?ir/" (which means, very well), and presently came
back.
Fm blest "if he didnH bring master a 2^l<^t^ of cnbbitch !
Would you bleave it, that now, in the nineteenth sentry, when they
say there's schoolmasters abroad, these stewpid French jackasses
are so extonishingly ignorant as to call a c.abbidge a shoo ! Never,
never let it be said, after this, that these beuiglited, souperstitious,
misrabble saiiidr/es, are equill, in any respex, to the great Brittish
peo]ile. The moor I tra-vvle, the moor I see of the world, and
other natiums, I am jiroud of my own, and despise and deplore
the rctchid ignorance of the rest of Youiiip.
• ••«•••
My remarks on Parris you shall have by an early opportunity.
Me and Deuceace played some curious pranx there, I can tell you.
MR. DEUCEACE AT PARIS
CHAPTER I
THE Tiro BUNDLES OF HAY
T lEUTENANT-GENERAL SIR GEORGE GRIFFIN, K.C.B.,
I was about seventy-five years old when he left this life, and
'-^ the East Ingine army, of which he was a distinguished orny-
ment. Sir Geoi-ge's first appearance in Injar was in the character
of a cabbingboy to a vessel ; from Avhich he rose to be clerk to the
owners at Calcutta, from Avliich he became all of a sudden a ca})ting
in the Company's service ; and so rose and rose, until he rose to be
a leftenant-general, when he stopped rising altogetlier — hopping the
twig of this life, as drummers, generals, dustmen, and emperors
must do.
Sir George did not leave any mal licir to perpetuate the name of
Grittin. A widow of about twenty-seven, and a daughter avaritching
twenty-tliree, Avas left behind to deploar his loss, and share Ids
proppaty. On old Sir George's dcth, his interesting widdo and orfan,
who had both been with him in Injer, returned home — tried London
for a few months, did not like it, and resolved on a trii» Ijj Paris;
where very small London peijple liecome very great ones, if they've
money, as these Grilfinses had. The intelligent reader need not be
told that Miss Grittin was not tlie daughter of Lady Griffin ; for
though marritches are made tolrabbly early in Injer, people are not
quite so precoashoos as all that : the foct is, Lady G. was Sir George's
second wife. I need scarcely add, that IMiss Matilda Grittin wos the
offspring of his fust marritcli.
Miss Leonora Ivicki^:ey, a ansum lively Islington gal, taken out
to Calcutta, and, amongst his other goods, very comfortably disjjosed
of by her uncle, Capting Kicksey, was one-and-twenty when she
married Sir George at seventy-one; and the 13 Miss Kickseys, nine
of whom kep a school at Islington (tiie other 4 being married vari-
ously in the City), Avere not a little cnvius of my Lady's luck, and
not a little proud of their relationship to her. One of 'em, Miss
Jemima Kicksey, the oldest, and by no means the least ugly of the
28o MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
sett, was staying with her Ladyship, and gev me all the partecklars.
Of the rest of the famly, being of a lo sort, I in course no nothink ;
my acquaintance, thank my stars, don't lie among them, or the likes
of them.
Well, this Miss Jemima lived with her younger and more fortnat
sister, in the qualaty of companion, or toddy. Poar thing ! I'd a
soon be a gaily slave, as lead the life she did I Everybody in the
house despised her ; her Ladyship insulted her ; the very kitching
gals scorned and flouted lier. Slic roat the notes, she kop the bills,
slie made tlie tea, she whipped the chocklate, she cleaned the canary
birds, and gev out the linning for the wa.sh. She was my Lady's
Avnlking pocket, or rettyculc ; and fetched and carried her handker-
clier, or her smell-bottle, like a well-bred spaniel. All night, at her
La(lyshii)'s swarries, she thumi)cd kidrills (nobody ever thought of
asking her to dance ! ) ; when Miss Griffing sung, she played the piano,
and was scolded because the singer was out of tune ; abomnianating
dogs, slie never drov^e out without her Ladyship's puddle in her lap ;
and, reglarly imwell in a carriage, she never got anything but the back
seat. Poar Jemima ! I can see her now in my Lady's sechid-best old
clothes (the ladies'-maids always got the prime leavings) : aliloc sattn
gown, crumpled, blotched, and greiisy ; a pair of white sattn shoes,
of the colour of Injer rubber ; a faded yellow velvet hat, with a
wreath of hartifisld flowers run to sead, and a bird of Parrowdice
perched on the top of it, mclumcolly and moulting, with only a couple
of feathers left in his mifortunate tail.
Besides this ornyment to their saloon. Lady and Miss Griffin
kept a number of other servants in the kitching : 2 ladies'-niaids ,
2 footmin, six feet high each, crimson coats, goold knots, and white
cassymcjfr pantyloons ; a coachmin to match ; a page : and a
Shassure, a kind of servant only knowm among forriners, and who
looks more like a major-general than any other mortial, wearing a
cock-hat, a unicoru covered with silver lace, mustashos, eplets, and
a sword by his side. All these to wait upon two ladies ; not
comiting a host of the fair sex, such as cooks, scullion, liousekcepers,
and so forth.
My Lady Grithu's lodging was at forty pounds a week, in a
grand sweet of rooms in the Plas Vandome at Paris. And, having
thus described tlieir house, and their servants' hall, I may give a
few words of description concerning the ladies themselves.
In the fust place, and in coarse, they hated each otlier. My
Lady was twenty-seven — a widdo of two years — f;it, fair, and rosy.
A slow, quiet, cold-looking woman, as those fair-haired gals generally
are, it seemed dirticult to rouse her either into likes or dislikes ; to
the former, at least. She never loved anybody but one, and that
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 281
was herself. She hated, in her calm quiet way, almost every one
else who came near her — every one, from her neighbour the duke,
who had slighted her at dinner, down to John the footman, wlio
had torn a hole in her train. I think this woman's heart was like
one of them lithograffic stones, you can't ruh out anything when
once it's drawn or wrote on it ; nor could you out of her Ladyship's
stone — heart, I mean — in the shape of an affront, a slight, or real
or i^hansied injury. She boar an exlent irreprotchable character,
against which the tongue of scandal never wagged. She was allowed
to be the best wife posbill — and so she Avas ; but she killed her old
husband in two years, as dead as ever Mi;. Thurtell killed Mr.
William Weare. She never got into a passion, not she — she never
said a rude word ; but she'd a genius — a genius which many women
have — of making a hell of a house, and tort'ring the poor creatures
of her family, until they were wellnigh drove mad.
Miss Matilda Griffin was a good deal uglier, and about as
amiable as her mother-in-law. She Avas crooked, and squinted ; my
Lady, to do her justice, Avas straight, and looked the same Avay
Avith her i's. She Avas dark, and my Lady Avas fair — sentimental,
as her Ladyship AA'as cold. My Lady Avas never in a passion — Miss
Matilda ahvays ; and aAvfille Avere the scenes Avhich used to pass
betAveen these 2 A\-omen, and the Avickid wickid quarls Avhich took
place. Why did they live together 1 There Avas the niistry. Not
related, and hating each other like pison, it would surely have been
easier to remain seprat, and so have detested each other at a distans.
As for the fortune Avhicli old Sir George had left, that, it Avas
clear, was very considrabble — 300 thousand lb. at the least, as I
have heard say. But nobody kncAv hoAv it Avas disposed of Some
said that her Ladyship Avas sole mistriss of it, others that it Avas
divided, others that slie had only a life inkum, and that the money
was all to go (as Avas natral) to Miss Matilda. These are subjix
which are not praps very interesting to the British public, but
were mighty important to my master, the Honrablc Algernon Percy
Deuceace, esquire, barrister-at-laA\^, etsettler, etsettler.
For I've forgot to hiform you that my master Avas very intimat
in this house; and that Ave Avere now comfortably settled at the
Hotel MirabcAv (pronounced Marobo in French), in the Rcav dclly
Pay, at Paris. We had our cab, and tAvo riding-horses; our
banker's book, and a thousand pound for a balantz at Lafitt's ; our
club at the corner of the ReAV Gramong ; our share in a box at the
oppras; our apartments, spacious and elygant ; our swarnes at
Court ; our dinners at his Excellency Lord Bobtail's and elsewhere.
Thanks to poar Dawkins's five thousand pound, Ave Avere as complete
gentlemen as any in Paris.
282 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Now my master, like a wise man as he was, seaiug himself at
the head of a smart sum of money, and in a country where his
debts could not bother him, determined to give up for the present
everythink like gambling — at least, high play ; as for losing or
winning a ralow of Xapoleums at whist or ecarty, it did not matter :
it looks like money to do such things and gives a kind of respec-
tabilaty. " But as for play, he wouldn't — oh no ! not for worlds !
— do such a thing." He had played, like other young men of
fashn, and won and lost [ohl fox ! he didn't say he had pai(l\ ; but
he had given up the amusement, and was now determined, he said,
to live on his inkunif The fact is, my master was doing his very
best to act the respectable man : and a very good game it is, too ;
but it requires a precious great roag to play it.
He made his appearans reglar at church — mo carrying a hand-
some large black marocky Prayer-book and Bible, with the ])salms
and lessons marked out with red ribbings ; and you'd have tliought,
as I graivly laid the volloms down before him, and as he berried
his head in his nicely brushed hat, before service began, that such a
jiious, proper, morl, young nobleman was not to be found in the whole
of the jioeridge. It was a comfort to look at him. Efry old tabby
and dowj'ger at my Lord Bobtail's turned up the wights of their i's
when they spoke of him, and vowed they had never seen such a
dear, daliteful, exlent young man. What a good son he must be,
they said ; and oh, what a good son-in-law ! He had the pick of
all the English gals at Paris before we had been there 3 months.
But, unfortmiately, most of them wore poar ; and love and a cottidgo
was not quite in ma.ster's way of thinking.
Well, about this time my Lady Griffin and Jliss G. made their
appearants at Parris, and master, who was up to snough, very soon
changed his noat. He sate near them at chappie, and sung hims
with my Lady : he danced with 'em at the embassy balls ; he road
with them in the Boy de Balong and tlie Shaudeleasics (which is
the French High Park) ; he roat potry in ]\Iiss Griffin's halbim, and
sang jewets along with her and Lady Griffin ; he brought sweetmeats
for the puddle-dog ; he gave money to the footmin, kissis and gloves
to the sniggering ladies'-maids ; he was sivvle even to poar Miss
Kicksey ; there wasn't a single soal at the Griffinses that didn't
adoar this good young man.
The ladies, if they hated befoar, you may be sure detested each
other now wuss than ever. There had been always a jallowsy
between them : miss jellows of her mother-in-law's bewty ; madam
of miss's espree : miss taunting my Lady about the school at
Islington, and my Lady snearing at miss for her squint and her
crookid back. And now came a stronger caws. They both fell in
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 283
love with Mr. Deuceaee — my Lady, tliat is to say, as much as she
could, with her cohl selfish temper. She liked Deuceaee, who
amused her and made her lafF. She liked his manners, his riding,
and his good loox ; and being :i]iervinciv herself had a dubble respect
for real aristocratick flesh and blood. Miss's love, on the contry,
was all flams and fury. SheVl always been at this work from the
time she had been at school, where she very nigh run away with a
Frentch master ; next with a footman (which I may say, in conft-
dence, is by no means unnatral or unusyouall, as I could shoiv if I
liked) ', and so had been going on sins fifteen. She reglarly flung
herself at Deuceace's head — such sighing, crying, and ogling, I never
see. Often was I ready to bust out laffin, as I br(jught master
skoars of rose-coloured hillydoos, folded up like cockhats, and smellin
like barber's shops, which this very tender young lady used to
address to him. Now, though master was a scoundrill and no
mistake, he was a gentlemin, and a man of good breading ; and miss
came a little too strong (pardon the wulgarity of the xpression)
with her hardor and attachmint, for one of his taste. Besides*, slie
had a crookid spine, and a squint ; so that (supposing their tortus
tolrabbly equal) Deuceaee reely preferred the mother-in-law.
Now, tlien, it was his bisuess to find out which had the most
money. With an English famly this would have been easy : a look
at a will at Doctor Conimons'es would settle the matter at once.
But this India naybob's will was at Calcutty, or some outlandish
place ; and there was no getting sight of a coppy of it. I will do
Mr. Algernon Deuceaee the justass to say, that he was so little
musnary in his love for Lady Grifiin, that he would have married
her gladly, even if she had ten thousand pounds less than Miss
Matilda. In the meantime, his plan was to keep 'em both in play,
mitil he could strike the best fish of the two — not a difficult matter
for a man of his genus : besides, Miss was hooked for certain.
CHAPTER II
"HONOUR THY FATHER"
1SAID that my master was adoared by every person in my Lady
Griffin's establishmint. I sliould have said by every person
excep one, — a young French gnlmn, that is, who, before our ap-
pcarants, had been mighty partikhxr witli my Lady, ockupying by her
side cxackly the same pasition which tlie Honrable Mr. Deuceace now
held. It was bewtiffle and heachfying to see how coolly that young
nobleman kicked the poar Shevalliay de I'Orge out of his shoes, and
how gracefully he himself stept into 'em. Munseer de TOrge was a
smart young French jcntleman, of about my master's age and good
looks, but not possest of half my master's impidince. Not that
that quallaty is uncommon in France ; but few, very few, had it to
such a degree as my exlent employer, ]\Ir. Deuceace. Besides De
rOrge was reglarly and reely in love with Lady Griffin, and master
only pretending : he had, of coars, an advantitch, which the poor
Frentchman never could git. He was all smiles and gaty, Avhile
Delorgc was ockward and melumcolly. My master had said twenty
pretty things to Lady Griffin, befor the Shevalier had finished
smoothing his hat, staring at her, and sighing fit to bust his weskit.
luv, luv ! This isn't the way to win a woman, or my name's not
Fitzroy Yellowplush ! Myself, Avhen I begun my carear among the
fair six, I was always sighing and moping, like this poar Frenchman.
What was the consquints 1 The foar fust women I adoared lafft at
mo, and left me for something more lively. With tlic rest I have
eiloptcd a diftVcnt game, and with tolerable suxess, I can tell you.
But this is eggatism, which I aboar.
Well, the long and the short of it is, that Munseer Ferdinand
Hyppolite Xavier Stanislas, Shevalier de I'Orge, was reglar cut out
by Munseer Algenion Percy Deuceace, Exquire. Poar Ferdinand
did not leave the house — he hadn't the heart to do that — nor had
my Lady the desire to dismiss him. He was useflc in a thousand
different ways, gitting oppra-boxes, and invitations to French
swarries, bying gloves, and de Colong, writing French noats, and
such like. Always let me recommend an English fiimly, going to
Paris, to have at least one yoimg man of the sort about thera
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 285
Never mind how old your Ladyship is, he will make love to you ;
never mind what crrints you send hnn upon, he'll trot oft' and do
them. Besides, he's always cpiite and well-dresst, and never drinx
moar than a pint of wine at dinner, which (as I say) is a pint to
consider. Such a conveniants of a man was Munseer de TOrge —
the greatest use and comfort to my Lady posbill ; if it was but to
latt' at his bad j^ronunciatium of English, it was somethink amusink :
the fun was to i^it him against poar Miss Kicksey, she speakif
French, and he our naytif British tong.
My master, to do him justace, Avas perfickly sivvle to this jioar
young Frenchman ; and having kicked him oiit of the place which
he occupied, sertingly treated his ilillen anymy with every respect
and consideration. Poar modist down-hearted little Ferdinand
adoared my Lady as a goddice ! and so lie was very polite, likewise,
to my master — never venturing once to be jellows of liim, or to
question my Lady Griffin's right to change her lover, if she choase
to do so.
Thus, then, matters stood ; master had tvfo strinx to his bo,
and might take either the widdo or the orfn, as he preferred : com
hong hvee somhlan, as the Frentch say. His only pint was to dis-
cover how the money was disposed oft', which evidently belonged
to one or other, or boath. At any rate he was sure of one ; as sure
as any mortal man can be in this sublimary spear, where nothink is
suttin except unsertnty.
• •••«••
A very unixpected insident here took place, which in a good deal
changed my master's calkylations.
One night, after conducting the two ladies to the oppra, after
suppink of white soop, sammy-deperdrow, and shampang glassy
(which means, eyced), at their house in the Plas Vandom, me and
master droav hoam in the cab, as happy as possbill.
" Chawls you d — d scoundrel," says he to me (for he was in
an exlent humer), " when I'm married, I'll dubbil your wagis."
This he might do, to be sure, without injaring himself, seing
that he had as yet never paid me any. But, what then 1 Law
bless us ! things would be at a pretty pass if we suvvants only lived
on our wagis ; our puekwisits is the thing, and no mistake.
I ixprest my gratitude as best I could ; swoar that it wasn't for
wagis I served him— that I would as leaf Aveight upon him for
nothink : and that never never, so long as I livd, would I, of my own
accord, part from such an exlent master. By the time these two
spitches had been made— my spitch and his— we arrived at the
" Hotel Mirabeu ; " which, as everybodj' knows, ain't very distant
from the Plas Vandome. LTp we marched to our apartmiuce, me
286 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
carrying the light and the cloax, master hummiuk a hair out of the
oppra, as merry as a hirk.
I opened the door of our salong. There was lights already in
the room ; an empty shampang bottle roalin on the floar, another on
the table : near wliich the sofy was dra^^•n, and on it lay a stout old
genlmn, smoaking seagars as if he'd bean in an inn tap-room.
Deuceace (who abommauates seagars, as I've already shown) bust
into a furious raige against the genlmn, whom he could hardly see
for the smoak ; and, with a luimber of oaves quite unnecessary to
repeat, asked him what bisiniss lie'd there.
The smoaking chap rose, and, laying down his seagar, began a
ror of laffin, and said, " "What ! Algy my boy ! don't you know me 1 "
The reader may praps recklect a \'ery affecting letter which was
published in the last chapter of these memoars ; in which the writer
requested a loan of five hundred pound from ]\Ir. Algernon Deuceace,
and which boar the respected signatnr of the Earl of Crabs, Mr.
Deuceace's own father. It was that distinguished arastycrat who
was now smokin and laifin in oiu" room.
My Lord Crabs was, as I preshumed, about 60 years old. A
stowt, burly, red-faced, bald-headed nobloman, whose nose seemed
blushing at wliat liis mouth was continually swallowing ; whose
hand, praps, trembled a little; and whose thy and legg was not
quite so full or as stcddy as tliey had been in former days. But he
was a respecktabble, fine-looking old nobleman ; and though it must
be confest, h drunk when we fast made our appe<arance in the salong,
yet by no means moor so tlian a real noblcmin ought to be.
" "What, Alt,'y my boy ! " shouts out his Lordship, advancing and
seasing miister by the hand, " doau't you know your own father ? "
Master seemed anythink but overhappy. " My Lord," says he,
looking very pail, and speakin rayther slow, " I didn't — I confess
— the unexpected pleiTsurc — of seeing you in Paris. The fact is, sir,"
said he, recovering himself a little ; " the fact is, there was such a
confounded smoke of tobacco in the room, that I really could not
see who the stranger was who had paid me such an unexpected visit."
"A bad habit, Algernon; a bad habit," said my Lord, lighting
another seagar : "a disgusting and filtliy practice, Avhich you, my dear
child, will do well to avoid. It is at best, dear Algernon, but a nasty
idle pastime, unfitting a man as well for mental exertion as for respect-
able society ; sacrificing, at once, the vigour of the intellect and the
graces of the person. By-the-bye, what infernal bad tobacco they
have, too, in this hotel. Could not you send your servant to get me
a few seagars at the Cafd de Paris ! Give him a five-franc piece, and
let him go at once, that's a good fellow."
Here his Lordship hiccupt, and drank off a fresh tumbler of
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE , 287
shampang. Very sulkily, master drew out the coin, and sent me
on tlie errint.
Knowing the Cafd de Paris to be shut at that hour, I didn't say
a word, but quietly establisht myself in the ante-room ; where, as
it happened by a singler coinstdints, I could hear every word of
the conversation between this exlent pair of relatifs.
" Help yourself, and get another bottle," says my Lord, after a
solium paws. My poar master, the king of all other eomitnies in
which he moved, seamed here V)ut to play secknd fiddill, and went
to the cubbard, from which liis father had already igstracted two
bottils of his prime Sillary.
He put it down before his father, coft, spit, opened the ^\-indows,
stirred the fire, yawned, clapt his hand to his forehead, and suttnly
seamed as uneezy as a genlmn could be. But it was of no use ; the
old one would not bu(lg. " Help yourself," says he again, " and
pass me the bottil."
"You are very good, father," says master; "but really, I
neither drink nor smoke."
" Right, my boy : quite right. Talk about a good conscience
in this life — a good stomack is everythink. No bad nights, no
headachs — eh 1 Quite cool and collected for your law studies in the
morning ? — eh 1 " And the old nolileman here grinned, in a manner
Avhich would have done creddit to Mr. Grimoldi.
Master sate pale and wincing, as I've seen a jtove soldier under
the cat. He didn't anser a word. His exlent pa went on, warming
as he continued to speak, and driidcing a fresh glas at evry full stop.
"How you nmst improve, with such talents and such principles!
Why, Algernon, all London talks of your industry and perseverance :
you're not merely a philosopher, man ; hang it ! you've got the
I)hilosopher's stone. Fine rooms, fine horses, champagne, and all
for 200 a year ! "
" I presume, sir,'' says my master, " that you mean the two
hundred a year which you pay me ? "
" The very sum, my boy ; the very sum ! " cries my Lord, laffin
as if he would die. " Why, that's tlie wonder ! I never pay the
two hundred a year, and you keep all this state up upon nothing.
Give me yoiu- secret, you young Trismegistus ! Tell your old
father how such wonders can be worked, and I will — yes, then, upon
my word, I will — pay you your two hundred a year ! "
" Er^Jin, my Lord," says Mr. Dcuceace, starting up, and losing
all patience, " will you have the goodness to tell me what this visit
means 1 You leave me to starve, for all you care : and you grow
mighty facetious because I earn my bread. You find me in pros-
perity and "
288 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
" Precisely, my boy, precisely. Keep your temper, and pass
that bottle. I find you in pnispcrity ; and a young gentleman of
your genius and ac(]uiremcnts a.sks me why I seek your society ?
Oh, Algernon ! Algernon ! this is not worthy of such a profound
philosopher. HA // do I seek you ? Why, because you mr in pros-
perity, my son ! else, why the devil should I bother myself about
you? Did I, your poor mother, or your family, ever get from you
a single affectionate feeling 1 Did we, or any other of your friends
or intimates, ever know you to be guilty of a single honest or gene-
rous action ? Did we ever pretend any love for you, or you for us ?
Algernon Deuceacc, you don't want a father to tell you that you arc
a swindler and a spendtlirift ! I have paid thousands for the debts
of yourself and your bnithers ; and, if you pay nobody else, I am
determined you shall repay me. You would not do it by fair means,
when I WTote to you and asked you for a loan of money. I knew
you woulil not. Had I written again to warn you of my coming,
you would have given me the slip ; and .';o I came, uniuvitetl, to
force you to repay me. That's why I am here, Mr. Algernon ; and
so help younelf and pass the bottle."
After this spcach, the old gfidiiin smik ilown on the sofa, and
])u(red as nnich smoke out of his mouth as if he'd been the chindcy
of a steam-injian. I was plea.sc(l, I confess, with the scan, and liked
to .see this venrablile and virtuous old man a-nocking his son about
the hed ; just as Deuceacc had done with Mr. Richard Blewitt, a.s
I've before shown. Master's face wa.s, fust, red-hot: next, chawk-
white ; and then, sky-blew. He lookeil, for all the world, like Mr.
Tiiii>y Cooke in the tragady of Frnnkinstamj. At last, he man-
niilgcd to speek.
" My Lord," says he, " I expected when I saw you that some
such scheme wa.s on foot. Swindler and spendthrift a.s I am, at
least it is but a family failing ; and I am indebted for my virtues
to my father's jjrecious example. Your Lordship ha.**, I i)erceive,
added drunkenness to the list of your accomplishments ; and, I
suj)pose, under the influence of that gentlemanly excitement, you
have come to make these preposterous ])ropositions to me. When
you are sober, you will, perhaps, be wise enough t<i know, that,
fool as I may be, I am not such a fool as you think me ; and that
if I have got money I intend to keep it — every farthing of it, though
you were to be ten times as drunk, and ten times as threatening
as you are now."
"Well, well, my boy," said Lord Crabs, who seemed to have
been half-a.slee]) (hiring his son's oratium, and received all his sneers
and sunasms wit!i the most complete good-humour; "well, well, if
/ou will resist, tant jns pour toi. I've no desire to ruin you,
THE AMOURS OF MR DEUCEACE 289
recollect, and am not in the slightest degree angry ; but I must and
■will have a thousand pounds. You hud better give me the monej'"
at once ; it will cost you more if you don't."
"Sir," says Mr. JDeuceace, " I Avill be cciually candid. I wo>dd
not give you a farthing to save you from "
Here I thought proper to o[)en tlic doar, and, touching my hat,
said, '' I have been to the Cafe de Paris, my Lord, but the house
is shut."
" Bon : there's a good lad ; yoii may keep the five francs. And
now, get me a candle and show me downstairs."
But my master seized tlie wax taper. " Pardon me, my Lord,"
says he. " What ! a servant do it. when your son is in the room ?
Ah, par exemple, my dear father," said he, laughing, " you think
there is no politeness left among us." And he led the way out.
" Good-night, my dear boy," said Lord Crabs.
" God bless you, sir." savs ]m\ " Are you wrapped warm. ?
Mind the step ! "
And so this affeckslmate pair parted.
M
CHAPTER III
MINElfVRIXG
ASTER rose the nes morning with a dismal countinants —
he seamed to think that his pa's visit boded him no
good. I heard him muttering at his brexfast, and fimi-
bhng among his huuihvd iiuinul notes ; once he liad laid a piirsle
of them aside (I knew what he meant), to send 'em to his
father. " But no," says he at last, clutching tliem all up to-
gether again, and throwing them into his escritaw, "what harm
can he do me? If he is a knave, I know another who's full as
sharj). Let's see if we cannot beat him at his own weapons."
With tliat I\Ir. Deuceace drost himself in his best clothes, and
marched off to the Plas Viindom, to pay his cort to the fak widdo
and the intresting orfn.
It was abowt ten o'clock, antl he propoased to the ladies, on
seeing them, a nmnber of ]ilanns for the day's rackryation. Riding
in the Boily Balmig, g<)in<r to the Twillaries to see King Looy Disweet
(who was then the raining sufferin of the French crownd) go to
chni»plp, and, finely, a dinner at 5 o'clock at the Caffy de Parry ;
whents they were all to adjouni, to see a new peace at the theatre
of the Pot St. Martin, called " Sussannar and the Elders."
The gals agread to ever>-think, exsep the two last preposi-
tium?:. " We have an engagement, my dear Mr. Algernon," said
my L:i<ly. " Look — a ven.' kind letter from Lady Bobtail." And
she handed over a pafewmd noat from that exolted lady. It
ran thus : —
"Fbg. St. Honou£: Thursday, Feb. In, 1817.
" My dear Lady Griffin, — It is an age since we met.
Harassing public duties occupy so much myself and Lord Bobtail,
tlr.it we have scarce time to see our jjrivate friends ; among whom,
I hope, my dear Lady Griffin will allow me to rank her. Will you
excuse so very unceremonious an invitation, and dine with us at
the embassy to-day ? We shall be en petite comite', and shall have
the pleasure of hearing, I hope, some of your charming daughter's
singing in the evening. I ought, perhaps, to have addressed a
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 291
separate note to <lear Miss Griffin ; but I hope slie M-ill pardon a
poor diplomate^ who has so many letters to write, you know.
"Farewell till seven, when I positively must see you both.
Ever, dearest Lady Griffin, your affectionate
"Eliza Bobtail."
Such a letter from the ambassdriss, brot by the ambasdor's
Shassure, and sealed vdth his seal of arms, would affect anybody
in the middling ranx of life. It droav Lady Griffin mad wth
delight ; and, long before my master's arrivle, she'd sent Mortimer
and Fitzclarence, her two footmin, along with a polite reply in
the affummatiff.
Master read the noat -ftith no such fealinx of joy. He felt that
there was somethink a-going on behind the seans, and, though he
could not tell how, was sure that some danger was near him.
That old fox of a father of his had begun his M'Inations pretty
early !
Deuceace handed back tlie letter ; sneared, and poohd, and
hinted that such an invitation was an insult at best (what he called
a 2)ees ally) ; and, the ladies might depend upon it, was only sent
because Lady Bobtail wanted to fill up two spare places at her
table. But Lady Griffin and Miss would not have his insinwations;
they knew too fu lords ever to refuse an invitatium from any one
of them. Go they would ; and poor Deuceace must dine alone.
After they had been on their ride, and had had their otlier amuse-
min(;e, master came back with them, chatted, and laft ; he was
mighty sarkastix with my Lady ; tender and sentrymentle with
Miss, and left them both in high sperrits to perform their twollet,
before dinner.
As I came to the door (for I was as famillyer as a servant of
the house), as I came into the drawing-room to announts his cab,
I saw master very quietly taking his jjocket-book (or 2^ot fool, as
the French call it) and thrusting it under one of the cushinx of the
sofa. What game is this? thinx I.
Why, tins was the game. In about two howrs, when he knew
the ladies were gon, he pretends to be vastly anxious abowt the
loss of his i?otfolio ; and back he goes to Lady Griffinses to seek
for it there.
" Pray," says he, on going in, " ask Miss Kicksey if I may
see her for a single moment." And down comes Miss Kicksey,
quite smiling, and happy to see him.
" Law, Mr. Deuceace ! " says she, trying to l^lush as hard as
ever she could, " you quite surprise me ! I don't know wliethcr
I ought, really, being alone, to admit a gentleman."
292 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
" Xay, don't say so, dear Miss Kicksey ! for do you know, I
came here for a double purpose — to ask about a pocket-book which I
have lost, and may, perhaps, have left hero ; and then, to ask you if
you will have the great goodness to pity a solitary bachelor, and
give him a cup of your nice tea 1 "
JiJ'ice tea ! I tiiot I should have split ; for I'm blest if master
iiad eaten a morsle of dinner !
Never mind : down to tea they sat. " Do you take cream and
sugar, dear sir ? " says poar Kicksey, with a voice as tender as a
tuttle-duff.
•Both, dearest Miss Kicksey!" answers master; who stowed
in a power of sashong and. muffiux which would have done honour
to a washawoman.
I shan't describe the conversation that took place betwigst master
and this young lady. The reader, praps, knows y Deuceace took
the trouble to talk to her for an hour, and to swallow all her tea.
He wanted to find out from her all she knew about the famly money
matters, and settle at once which of the two Griffinses he should
marry.
The poar thing, of cors, wa.s no match for such a man as my
master. In a quarter of an hour, he had, if I may use the igspres-
sion, " turned her inside out." He knew everything that she knew ;
and that, poar creiituro, was very little. There was nine thousand
a year, she had heard say, in money, in houses, in lianks in Injar,
and what not. Boath the ladies signed papei-s for selling or buying,
and the money seemed equilly divi<led betwigst them.
Xine thousand a i/ear I Deuceace went away, his ohecx ting-
ling, his heart beating. He, without a penny, could nex morning,
if he liked, be master of five thousand per hannum !
Yes. But how"? "Which had tlie money, the mother or the
daughter? All the tea-drinking had not taught him this piece of
noUidge ; and Deuceace thought it a pity that he could not marry
both.
The ladies came ])ack at night, mightaly pleased with tlieir re-
ception at the ambasdor's ; and, stepjjing out of their carridge, bid
coachmin drive on with a gentleniin who had handed them out —
a stout old gentlemin, who shook hands most tenderly at parting,
and promised to call often u])on my Lady Griffin. He was so
polite, that he Avanted to mount the stairs with her Ladyship : but
no, she would not suffer it. " Edward," says she to the coachmin,
quite loud, and ]ileased that all the ]ieople in the hotel should hear
her, " you will take the carriage, and drive his Lordship home."
Now, can you guess who his Lordship was ? The Right Hon. the
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 293
Earl of Crabs, to be sure ; tlae very old genlmn whom I had seen
on such charming terms with his son the day before. Master knew
this the nex day, and began to think he had l:;eeu a fool to deny
his pa the thousand ])ound.
Xow, though the suckmstansies of the dinner at the ambasdor's
only came to my years some time after, I may as well relate 'em
here, word for word, as they was told me by the very genlmn ■\\-ho
waited behind Lord Crabseses chair.
There was only a '■'■petty comity" at dinner, as Lady Bobtail
said ; and my Lord Crabs was placed betwigst the two GritBnses,
being mighty ellygant and palite to both. " Allow me," says he
to Lady G. (between the soop and the fish), " my dear madam,
to thank you — fervently thank you for your goodness to my
poor boy. Your Ladyship is too young to experience, but, I
am sure, far too tender not to understand the gratitude which
must till a fond parent's heart for kindness shoAvn to his child.
Believe me," says my Lord, looking lier full and tenderly in tlie
flice, "that the favours you have done to another have been done
equally to myself, and awaken in my bosom the same grateful and
affectionate feelings with which you have already inspired my son
Algernon."
Lady Griffin bluslit, and droopt her head till her ringlets fell
into her fish-plate : and she swallowed Lord Crabs's flumry just as
she would so many musharuins. My Lord (whose powers of slack-
jaw was notoarious) nex addrast another spitch to Mi^s Griffin. He
said he'd heard how Deuceace was situated. Miss blusht — what a
happy dog he was — i\Iiss blusht crimson, and then he sighed deeply,
and began eating his tiu-bat and lobster sos. Master was a good
un at flumry, but, laAv bless you ! he was no moar cipnll to the old
man than a molehill is to a mounting. Before the night was over,
he had made as much progress as another man would in a ear.
One almost forgot his red nose and his big stomick, and his wicked
leering i's, in his gentle insiniv\-ating woicc, his fund of annygoats,
and, above all, the bewtifle, inorl, religious, and honrabble toan of
his genral conversation. Praps you will say that these ladies were,
for such rich pipple, mightaly esaly captivated; but recklcct, my
dear sir, tiiafc they were fresh from Injar, — that they'd not scan
many lonk., — that they adoared the peeridge, as every honest
woman docs h\ England who has proper feelinx, and has read the
fashuabble novvles,— and that here at Paris was their fust step
into fashnabble sosiaty.
\Xd\, after dinner, while Miss Matilda was singing " Die tantie,"
or '-'Dip your chair," or some of them sellabrated Italyian hairs
(when she began this squall, hang me if she'd ever stop), my Lord
;^3
294 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
gets hold of Lady Griffin again, and gradgaly begins to talk to her
in a very different strane.
"What a blessing it is for us all," says he, "that Algernon has
found a friend so respectable as your Ladyship."
" Indeed, my Lord : and "why 1 I suppose I am not the only
respectable friend that 3Ir. Deuceace has l "'
"No, surely; not the only one he has had; his birth, and,
permit me to say, his jelationship to myself, have jirocurcd him
many. But " (here my Lord heaved a very aflecting and large
sigh).
" But what 1 " says my Lady, laffing at the igspression of his
dismal face. " You don't mean that Mr. Deuceace has lost them
or is unworthy of them I "
"I trust not, my dear madam, I trust not; but he is ^\^ih\,
thoughtless, extravagant, and emba mossed : and you know a man
under these circumstances is not very particular as to his associates."
" Embarrassed 1 Good heavens ! He says he has two thousand
a year left him by a godmother; and he does not seem even to
spend his income — a very handsome independence, too, for a
bachelor."
My Lord nodded his head sadly, and said, — " Will your Lady-
ship give me your word of honour to be secret ? My son has but
a thousand a year, which I allow him, and is heavily in debt. He
has played, madam, I fear; ami for this rctuson I am so glad to
hear that he is in a respectable domestic circle, where he may learn,
in the presence of for greater and jturer attractions, to forget the
dice-box, and the low company which has been his bane."
My Lady Griffin looked very gi-ave indeed. Was it tnie ? Was
Deuceace sincere in his professions of love, or was he only a sharper
wooing her for her money? Could she doubt her infcmner? his
own father, and, what's more, a re^d tlesh and blood pear of parly-
ment? She determined she would try him. Praps she did not
know she had liked Deuceace so much, until she kem to feel how
much she should hate him if she found he'd been playing her false.
The evening was over, and back they came, as wee've seen, —
my Lord driving home in my Lady's can-idge, her Ladyship and
Miss walking upstaii-s to their own aiiartminco.
Here, for a wonder, Avas poar Miss Ivicksy quite happy and
smiling, and evidently fidl of a secret, — something mighty ])lcasant,
to judge from her loox. She did not long keep it. As she was
making tea for the ladies (for in that house they took a cup regidiir
before betltime), " Well, my L;uly," says she, " who do you think
has been to drink tea with me 1 " Poar thing, a freudly face was
an event iu her life — a tea-pai-ty quite a hera !
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 295
" Why, perhaps, Lenoir my maid," says my Lady, looking grave.
"1 wish. Miss Kicksey, you would not demean yourself by mixing
with my domestics. Recollect, madam, that you are sister to
Lady Griffin."
" No, my Lady, it was not Lenoir ; it was a gentleman, and a
handsome gentleman, too."
" Oh, it was Monsieur de I'Orge, then," says Miss ; " he promised
to bruig me some guitar-strings."
" No, nor yet M. de I'Orge. He came, but was not so polite
as to ask for me. What do you think of your own beau, tlie
Honourable Mr. Algernon Deuceace 1 " and, so saying, poar Kicksey
clapped her hands together, and looked as joyfle as if she'd come
into a fortin.
" Mr. Deuceace here ; and Avhy, pray 1 " says my Lady, who
recklected all that his exlent pa had been saying to her.
"Why, in tlie first place, he had left his pocket-book, and in
the second, he wanted, he said, a dish of my nice tea ; which he
took, and stayed with me an hour, or moar."
" And pray, Miss Kicksey," said Miss Matilda, quite contemp-
shusly, "what may have been the subject of your conversation with
Mr. Algernon ? Did you talk politics, or nnisic, or fine arts, or
metaphysics 1 " Miss M. being Avhat was called a blue (as most
liump-backed women in sosiaty arc), always made a pint to speak
on these grand subjects.
" No, indeed ; he talked of no such awful matters. If he had,
you know, Matilda, I should never have understood him. First
we talked about the weather, next about muffins and crumpets.
Crumpets, he said, he liked best ; and then we talked " (here Miss
Kicksey's voice fell) " about poor dear Sir George in heaven ! wliat
a good husband he was, and "
"W]iat a good fortune he left, — eh, Miss Kicksey?" says my
Lady, with a hard snearing voice, and a diabollicle gr'm.
" Yes, dear Leonora, he spoke so respectfully of your blessed
husband, and seemed so anxious about you and Matilda, it was
quite cliarming to hear him, dear man ! "
" And pray. Miss Kicksey, what did you tell him 1 "
"Oh, I told him that you and Leonora had nine thousand a
year, and "
" What then ? "
" Why, nothing ; that is all I know. I am sure I wisli I had
ninety," says poor Kicksey, her eyes turning to heaven.
"Ninety fiddlesticks! Did not Mr. Deuceace ask liow the
money was left, and to which of us 1 "
"Yes ; but I could not tell him."
296 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
"I knew it!" says my Lady, slapping down her tea-cup, — "I
knew it!"
"Well!" says Miss Matilda, "and why not, Lady Griffin?
There is no reason you should break your tea-cup, because Algernon
asks a harmless question. He is not mercenary ; he is all (candour,
innocence, generosity ! He is liimself blessed with a sufficient
portion of the world's goods to be content ; and often and often has
he told me he hoped the Avoman of his choice might come to him
without a penny, that he might show the purity of his affection."
" I've no doubt," says my Lady. " Pcrhap-s the lady of his
choice is Miss Matilda Griffin ! " and she flung out of the room,
slamming the door, and leaving Miss Matilda to bust into tears,
as Avas her reglar custom, and poiu: her loves and woas into the
buzzom of Miss Kicksey.
CHAPTER IV
"HITTING THE NALE ON THE HEDD"
THE iiex morning, down came me and master to Lady Griffinses,
■ — I amusing myself with the gals in the antyroom, he paying
his devours to the ladies in the salong. Miss was thrumming
on her gitter ; my Lady was before a great box of papers, l)usy
with accounts, bankers' books, lawyers' lettei's, and what not. Law
bless us! it's a kind of bisniss I should like well en uff; especially
when my hannual account was seven or eiglit thousand on the
right side, like my Lady's. My Lady in tlds house kep all these
matters to herself. Miss was a vast deal too sentrimentle to mind
business.
Miss Matilda's eyes sparkled as master came in ; she pinted
gracefully to a i)lace on the spfy beside her, which Deuceace took.
My Lady only looked up for a moment, smiled very kindly, and
down went her head ammig the jjapers agen, as busy as a B.
"Lady Griffin has had letters from London," says Miss, "from
nasty lawyers and people. Come lierc and sit by me, you naughty
man you ! "
And down sat master. "Willingly," says he, "my dear Miss
Griffin ; why, I declare, it is quite a tcte-a-tcte."
"Well," says Mis3 (after the prillimnary iiumries, in coarse),
"we met a friend of yours at the embassy, Mr. Deuceace."
" My father, doubtless ; he is a great friend of the ambassador,
and surprised me myself by a visit the night before last."
" What a dear delightful old man ! how he loves you. Mr.
Deuceace ! "
" Oh, amazingly ! " says master, throwing his i's to heaven.
" He spoke of nothing but you, and such praises of you ! "
Master breatlied more freely. "He is very good, my dear
father; but blind, as all fathers are, he is so partial and attached
to me."
"He spoke of you being his favourite child, and regi-etted that
you were not his eldest son. ' I can but leave him tlie small portion
of a younger brother,' he said ; ' but never mind, he has talents, a
noble name, and an independence of his own.' "
298 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
" An independence ? yes, oh yes ; I am quite independent of
my father."
" Two thousand pounds a year left you by your godmother ; the
very same you told us, you know."
"Neither more nor less," says master, bobbing his head; "a
sufficiency, my dear Miss Griffin, — to a man of my moderate habits
an ample provision."
" By-tlie-bye," cries out Lady Griffin interrupting the conversa-
tion, " you who are talking about money matters there, I wish you
would come to the aid of poor me I Come, naughty boy, and help
me out with this long long sum."
DidnH he go — that's all ! My i, how his i's shone, as he skipt
across the room, and seated himself by my Lady !
" Look ! " said she, " mv agents ^^Tite me over that they have
received a remittance of 7200 rupees, at 2s. 9d. a rupee. Do tell
me what the sum is, in pounds and shillings ; " which master did
with great gravity.
" Nine hundred and ninety pounds. Good ; I dare say you are
right. I'm sure I can't go through the fatigue to see. And now
comes another question. Whose money is this, mine or Matilda's %
You see it is the interest of a sum in India, Avhich we have not had
occasion to touch ; and, according to the terms of poor Sir George's
will, I really don't knovr how to dispose of the money except to
spend it. Matilda, what shall we do with it ? "
"La, ma'am, I wish you would arrantrt^ the business yom-sclf"
" Well, then, Algernon, you tell me ; " and she laid her hand ou
his, and looked him most pathetickly in the face.
" Why," says he, " I don't know how Sir George left his money;
you must let me see his will, first."
" Oh, willingly."
Master's chair seemed suddenly to have got springs in the cushns;
he was obliged to hold himself down.
" Look here, I have only a copy, taken by my hand from Sir
George's own manuscript. Soldiers, you know, do not employ
lawyers much, and this w;\s written on the night before going into
action." And she read, " ' I, George Griffin,' »&:c. &c. — you know
how these things begin — ' being now of sane mind ' — um, um, um,
— :* leave to my friends, Thomas Abraham Hicks, a colonel in the
H. E. I. Company's Service, and to John Monro Mackirkincroft (of
the house of Huffle, Mackirkincroft, and Dobbs, at Calcutta), the
whole of my property, to be realised as speedily as they may (con-
sistently with the interests of the property), in trust for my wife,
Leonora Emilia Griffin (born L. E. Kicksey), and my only legitimate
child, Matilda Griffin. The interest resulting from sucli property
THE AMOURS OF MR. DECJCEACE 299
to be paid to them, share and share alike ; the principal to remain
untouched, in the names of the said T. A. Hicks and J. M. Mac-
kirkincroft, until the death of my wife, Leonora Emilia Grithn, Avhen
it shall be paid to my daugliter, Matilda Griffin, her heirs, executors,
or assigns.' "
" There," said my Lady, " we won't read any more ; all the rest
is stuff. But now you know the whole business, tell us what is to
be done with the money 1 "
"Why, the money, unquestionably, should be divided b(;tween
you."
" Tant mieux, say I; I really thought it had been all Matilda's."
• • * • • • •
There was a paws for a minit or two after the will had been
read. Master left the desk at which he had Ijeen seated Avith her
Ladyship, paced up and ilown the room for a while, and then came
round to the place where Miss Matilda was seated. At last he said,
in a low, trembling voice, —
" I am almost sorry, my dear La<ly Griffin, that you have read
that will to me ; for an attachment such as mine must seem, I fear,
mercenary, when the object of it is so greatly favoured by worldly
fortune. Miss Griffin — Matilda ! I know I may say the word ; your
dear eyes grant me the permission. I need not tell you, or you,
dear mother-in-law, how long, how fondly, I have adored you. My
tender, my beautiful Matilda, I will not affect to say I have not read
your heart ere this, and that I have not known tlie preference with
which you have honoured me. Sj^eah it, dear girl ! from your own
sweet lips : in the presence of an affectionate parent, utter the
sentence which is to seal my happiness for life. Matilda, dearest
Matilda ! say, oh say, that you love me ! "
Miss M. shivered, turned pail, rowled her eyes about, and fell on
master's neck, whispering hodibly, " / cfo / "
My Lady looked at the pair for a moment with her teeth gTinding,
her i's glaring, her busm throbljing, and her face chock wiiite ; for
all the workflike Madam Pasty, in the oppra of "Mydear" (when
she's goin to mudder her childring, you recklcct) ; and out she
flounced from the room, without a word, knocking doAvn poar me,
who happened to be very near the dor, and leaving my master along
with crook-back mistress.
I've repotted the speech he made to her pretty well. Tlie fact
is, I got it in a ruff' copy; only on the copy it's Avrotc. '' Lad.y
Griffin, Leonora ! " instead of " Miss Griffin, Matilda" as in the
abuff, and so on.
IMaster had hit the right nail on the head this time, he thoiiglit :
but his adventors an't over yet.
CHAPTER V
THE GRIFFIN'S CLAUDS
WELL, master had hit the right nail on the head this time :
thaux to hick — the crooked one, to be sure, hut then it had
the (joold nohb, which "wa-s the part Deuceixce most vahied,
as ■svell he should ; being a counyshure as to the rellctiff valyou of
pretious metals, and much preferring virging goold like this to poor
old battered iron like my Lady Griffin.
And so, in spite of his father (at whicli old noblemin Mr. Deuceace
now snapthis fingers), in spite of his detts (which, to do him Justas,
had never stood much in his way), and in spite of his povatty, idle-
ness, extravagans, swindling, and debotcheries of all kinds (which
an't rieneralbj very favorable to a young man Avho has to make his
way in the world) ; in spite of all, there he was, I say, at the topp
of the trea, the fewclicr master of a perfect fortim, the dcfianced
husband of a fool of a wife. What can mortial man want more ?
Vishns of ambishn now occupial his soul. Shooting ])oxes, oppra
boxes, money boxes always full ; hunters at Melton ; a seat in the
House of Commins : Heaven knows what ! and not a poar footman,
who only describes Avhat he's seen, and can't, in cors, jjcnnytrate
into the idears and the busms of men.
You may be shore that the three-cornered noats came pretty
thick now from the Griffinscs. Miss was always a-writiiig them
befoar ; and now, nite, noon, and mornink, breakfast, dinner, and
sopper ill they came, till my i)antry (for master never read 'em,
and I carried 'em out) was puffickly intolrabble from the odor of
musk, ambygrcasc, bargymot, and other sense Avith which they
were impregniatcd. Here's the contense of three on 'cm, which I've
kep in my dex these twenty years as skeewriosities. Faw ! I can
smel 'em at this very minit, as I am copying tliem down.
Billy Doo. jSTo. I.
Mondat/ mominy, 2 o'clock.
" 'Tis the witching hour of night. Luna illumines my chamber,
and falls upon my sleepless pillow. By her light I am inditing
THE AMOUES OF MR. DEUCEACE 301
these words to thee, my Algernon. My brave and beautiful, my
soul's lord ! when shall the time come when the tedious night shall
not separate us, nor the blessed day] Twelve ! one ! two ! Iliavc
heard the bells chime, and the quarters, and never cease to tliink of
my husband. My adored Percy, pardon the girlish confession, —
I have kissed the letter at this jtlace. Will thy lips press it too,
•and remtuu for a moment on the spot which has been etiually
■saluted by your . Matilda ? "
This was the fust letter, and was brot to our house by one of
the poar footmin, Fitzclarence, at sicks o'clock in the moraing. I
thot it was for life and death, and woak master at that extraornary
horn-, and gave it to him. I shall never forgit him, when he red it ;
he cramped it up, and he cust and swoar, applying to the lady who
roat, the genlmn that brought it, and me who introjuiced it to his
notice such a collection of epitafs as I seldum h<^red, except at
Billinxgit. The fact is thiss : for a fust letter, Miss's noat was
rather too strong and scntymentle. But that was her way ; she
was always reaxling melancholy stoary books — "Thaduse of Waw-
saw," the " Sorrows of IMacWliirter," and such like.
After about 6 of them, master never yoused to read theni ; Ijut
handid them over to me, to see if there was anythink in them which
must be answered, in order to kip up appearuntses, Tlie next
letter is —
No. II.
" Beloved ! to what strange madnesses will passion lead one !
Lady Griffin, since yoiu- avowal yesterday, has not spoken a word
to your poor Matilda; has declared that she will admit no one
(heigho ! not even you, my Algernon) ; and has locked herself in
her OTTi dressing-room. I do believe that she is jealous, and fancies
that you were in love with her ! Ha, ha ! I could have told her
another tale — n'est ce pas? Adieu, adieu, adieu! A thousand
thousand million kisses ! ^I- ""•
" Monday afternoon, 2 o'docL"
There was another letter kcm before bedtime ; for though me
and master called at the Griffinses, we Avairnt aloud to enter at no
price. Mortimer and Fitzclarence grin'd at me, as much as to say
we were going to be relations ; but I don't spose master was very
sorry Avhcn he was obleached to come back without seeing the fair
objict of his afieckshns.
Well, on Chewsdy there was the same game ; ditto on \\ ensday ;
302 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
only, when we called there, who should we see but our father, Lord
Crabs, who was waiving his hand to Miss Kicksey, and saying he
should be hack to dinner at 7, just as me and master came up the
stares. There was no admittns for us though. " Bah ! bah ! never
mind," says my Lord, taking his son afteckshnately by the hand.
" What, two strings to your bow ; ay, Algernon ? The dowager a
little jealous, miss a little lovesick. But my Lady's fit of auger
will vanish, and I promise you, my boy, that you shall see your
fair one to-morrow."
And so saying, my Lord walked master down stares, looking at
him as tender and affeckshnat, and speaking to him as sweet as
posbill. Master did not know what to think of it. He never new
what game his old flitherwas at ; onlv he somehow felt that he had
got his head in a net, in spite of his suxess on Sunday. I knew it —
I knew it quite well, as soon as I saw the old genlmn igsamniin
him, by a kind of smile which came over his old face, and was
somethink betwigst the angellic and tlie direbolliclc.
But master's dowts were cleared up nex day and every thing
was bright again. At brexfast, in comes a note with inclosier, boath
of witch I here copy : —
No. IX.
" 2'hursJay morning.
'■' Victoria, Victoria ! Mamma has yielded at last ; not he.r
consent to our union, but her consent to receive you as before ; and
has promised to forget the past. Silly woman, how could she ever
think of you as anything but the lover of your ^Matilda? I am
in a whirl of delicious joy and i)a.ssiouate excitement. I have
been awake all this long night, thinking of thee, my Algernon, and
longing for the blissful hour of meeting.
"" Come ! " M. G."
This is the inclosier from my Lady : —
"I WILL not tell you that your behaviour on Sunday did not
deeply shock me. I had been foolish enough to think of other
plans, and to fancy your heart (if you had any) was fixed elsewhere
than on one at whose foibles you have often laughed with me, and
wliose person at least cannot have charmed you.
" My step-daughter "snll not, I presume, marry without at least
going through the ceremony of asking my consent ; I cannot, as yet,
give it. Have I not reason to doubt whether she will be happy in
trusting herself to you 1
c
THE AMOUES OF MR. DEUCEACE 303
" But she is of age, and has the right to receive in her own
house all those who may be agreeable to her — certainly you, who
are likely to be one day so nearly connected with her. If I have
honest reason to believe that your love for Miss Griffin is sincere ;
if I find in a few months tliat you yourself are still desirous to marry
her, I can, of course, place no further obstacles in your way.
" You are welcome, then, to return to our hotel. I cannot pro-
mise to receive you as I did of old ; you would despise me if I did.
I can promise, however, to think no more of all that has passe<l
between us, and j-ield up my own happiness for that of the daughter
of my dear husband.. L. E. G."
Well, now, an't this a manly, straitforard letter enough, and
natral from a woman Avhom we had, to confess the truth, treated
most scuvvily ? Master thought so, and went and made a tender
respeckful speach to Lady Griffin (a little flumry costs nothink).
Grave and sorrofle he kist her hand, and, speakin in a very low
adgitayted voice, calld Hevn to witness how he deplord that his
conduct should ever have given rise to such an unfortnt ideer : but
if he might offer her es^teem, respect, the warmest and tenderest
admiration, he trusted she would accept the same, and a deal moar
llmnry of the kind, with dark solium glausis of the eyes, and plenty
of white pockit-hankercher.
He thought he'd make all safe. Poar fool ! he was in a net—
sich a net as I never yet see set to ketch a roag in.
CHAPTER VI
THE JEWEL
THE Shevalier de I'Orge, the young Frenchmin whom I wrote of
in my last, who had been rather shy of his visits while master
Avas coming it so very strong, now came back to his old place
by the side of Lady Griffin : there was no love now, though, betwigst
him and master, although the Shevalier had got his lady back agin ;
Deuceace being comploatly devoted to his crookid Teanus.
The Slievalier Avas a little, \>a\e, moddist, insinifishnt creature ;
and I shoodu't have thought, from his appearants, would have the
heart to do harm to a fli, much less to stand befor such a tremendious
tiger and fire-eater as my master. But I seg putty well, after a week,
from his manner of going on — of spoakin at master, and lookin at
him, and olding his lips tight when Deuceace came into the room,
and glaring at him witli his i's, that he hated the Hourabble
Algernon Percy.
Shall I tell you why 1 Because my Lady Griffin hated him :
hated him wuss than pison, or the devvle, or even wuss than her
daughter-in-law. Praps you phansy that the letter you have juss
red was honest ; i)raps you amadgin tliat the scan of the reading of
the A\'ill came on by mere chans, and in the rcglar cors of suckm-
stansies : it was all a (jame^ I tell you — a reglar trap; and that
extrodnar clever young man, my master, as neatly put his foot into
it, as ever a pocher did in fesnt preserve.
The Shevalier had his q from Lady Griffin. Wlien Deuceace
went off the feald, back came De TOrgo to her feet, not a A\itt less
tender than befor. Por fellow, por fellow ! he really loved this
woman. He miglit as well have fohi in love \\\t\\ a boreconstructor !
He was so blinded and beat by the jtower wich she had got over
him, that if she told him black was white he'd beleavc it, or if she
ordered him to commit murder, he'd do it : she Avanted something
very like it, I can tell you.
I've already said ho\\-, in the fust i)art of their acquaintance,
master used to latf at De TOrge's bad Inglisli, and funny ways. The
little creature had a thowsnd of these ; and being small, and a French-
man, master, in cors, looked on him with that good-humoured kind
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 305
of contemp ■which a good Brittu ot always to show. He rayther
treated him like an intelligent nninky than a man, and ordered him
about as if he'd bean my Lady's footman.
All this munseer took in very good part, until after tlie quarl
betwigst master and Lady Gritfin ; when that lady took care to turn
tlie tables. Whenever master and miss were not jjresent (as I've
heard the servants say), she used to laff at Shevalliay I'or liis obeajance
and sivillatty to master. For her part, she wondered how a man of
his birth could act a servnt : how any man could submit to such con-
temsheous behaviour from another; and then she tokl him how
Deuceace was always suearing at him behind his back ; how, in fact,
he ought to hate him corjaly, and how it Avas suttnly time to show
his sperrit.
Well, the poar little man beleaved all this from his hart, and
was angry or pleased, gentle or quarlsum, igsactly as my Lady liked.
There got to be frequint rows betwigst liiin and master ; sharji words
flung at each otlier across the dinner-table ; dispewts about handing
ladies their smeling-botls, or seeing them to their carridge ; or going
in and out of a roam fust, or any such nonsince.
" For hevn's sake," I heerd my Ladj', in the midl of one of these
tiffs, say, pail, and the tears trembling in her i's, " do, do be calm,
Mr. Deuceace. Monsieur de I'Orge, I beseech you to forgive him.
You are, both of you, so esteemed, lov'd, by members of this family,
that for its peace as w^ell as your own, you should forbear to
quarrel,"
It was on the way to the Sally Mangy that this brangling had
begun, and it ended jest as they were seating themselves. I shall
never forgit poar little De I'Orge's eyes, when my Lady said " both
of you," He stair'd at my Lady for a momint, turned ]iail, red,
look'd wild, and then, going round to master, shook his hand as if he
would have Avrung it off. Mr. Deuceace only bow'd and grin'd,
and turned away quite stately; Miss heaved a lond from her
busm, and looked up in Ids face witli an igspreshn jest as if she
could have eat him up with love ; an<l tlie little Shevalliay_ sate
down to his soop-plate, and wus so happy, that I'm blest if^ he
wasn't crying ! He thought the widdow had made her declyration,
and would have him ; and so thought Deuceace, who look'd at her
for some time mighty bitter and contempshus, and then fell a-talking
with Miss.
Now, though master didn't choose to marry Lady Griffin, as he
might have done, he yet thought fit to be very angry at the notion
of "her marrying anybody else; and so, consquintly, was in a fewry
at this confision wliich she had made regarding her parshaleaty for
the French Shevaleer.
3o6 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
And this I've perseaved in the cors of my expearants through
life, that ^vheu you vex him, a roag's no longer a roag : you find
him out at oust when he's in a passion, for he shows, as it ware,
his cloven foot the very instnt you tread on it. At least, this is
what young roags do ; it requires very cool blood and long practis
to get over this pint, and not to show your pashn when you feel it
and snarl when you are angry. Old Crabs wouldn't do it; being like
another noblemin, of whom I heard the Duke of Wellington say, while
waiting behind his graci's chair, that if you were kicking him from
behind, no one standing before him would know it, from the bcwtifle
smiling igspreshu of his face. Young master hadn't got so far in
the thief s grammar, and, when he was angry, show'd it. And it's
also to be remarked (a very i)rofownd observatin for a footmin, but
we have i's though we do wear plush britchis), it's to be remarked,
I say, that one of these chaps is much sooner maid angiy than
another, because honest men yield to other people, roags never do ;
honest men love other people, roags only themselves; and the
slightest thing which comes in the way of thir beloved objects sets
them fewrious. Master hadn't led a life of gambling, swindling,
and every kind of debotch to be good-tempered at the end of it, I
prommis you.
He was in a pashun, and when he teas in a pashn, a more
insalent, insuffrable, overbearing broot didn't live.
This was the very pint to which my Lady wished to bring him ;
for I must tell you, that though she had been trying all her might
to set master and the Shevalliay by the years, she haxl suxeaded
only so far as to make them liate each other profowndly : but
somehow or other, the 2 cox wouldn't /^/Ai.
I doan't think Deuceace ever suspected any game on the part
of her Ladyship, for she carried it on so admirally, that the quarls
which daily took place betwigst him and the Frenchman never
seemed to come from lier ; on the coutry, she acted as the reglar
pease-maker between them, as I've just shown in the tiff which
took place at the door of the Sally Mang}\ Besides, the 2 young
men, though reddy enough to snarl, were natrally unwilling to cum
to bloes. Ill tell you why : being friends, and idle, they spent
their mornins as young fashuabbles genrally do, at biUiads, fensing,
riding, pistle-shooting, or some such imjirooving study. In bilHads,
master beat the Frenchmn hollow (and had won a pretious siglit of
money from him : but that's neither here nor there, or, as the
French say, ontry noo) ; at pistle-shooting, master could knock
down eight immidges out of ten, and De I'Orge seven ; and in
fensing, the Frenchman could pink tlie Honorable Algernon down
evry one of his weskit buttns. They'd each of tliem been out more
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 307
than oust, for every Frenchman will fight, and master had been
obleag'd to do so in the cors of his bisniss; and knowing each
other's curridg, as well as the fact that either could put a hundrid
bolls running into a liat at 30 yards, they waini't very willing to
try such exparrymence upon their own hats with their own heads
in them. So you see they kep quiet, and only grould at each
other.
But to-day Deuceace was in one of his thundering black humers ;
and when in this way he wouldn't stop for man or devvle. I said
that he walked away from the Shevalliay, who had given him I lis
hand in his sudden bust of joyfle good-humour; and who, I do
bleave, would have hugd a she-bear, so very happy was he. Master
walked away from him pale and hotty, and, taking his seat at table,
no moor mindid the brandishments of Miss Griffin, but only re])]icd
to them with a pshaw, or a dam at one of us servnts, or abuse of
the soop, or the wine ; cussing and swearing like a trooper, and not
like a wel-bred son of a noble British peer.
"Will your Ladyshiii," says he, slivering otf the wing of apully
ally bashymall, " allow me to help you 1 "
" I thank you ! no ; but I will trouble Monsieur de TOrge."
And towards that gnlmn she turned, with a most tender and fasnat-
ing smile.
" Your Ladyship has taken a very sudden admiration for Mr.
de I'Orge's carving. You used to like mine once."
" You are very skilful ; but to-day, if you will allow me, I will
partake of something a little simpler."
The Frenchman helped ; and, being so happy, in cors, spilt tlie
gravy. A great blob of brown sos spurted on to master's chick,
and myandrewd d(3wn his shert collar and virging-white weskit.
" Confound you ! " says he, " M. de I'Orge, you have done this
on purpose." And down went his knife and fork, over went his
tumbler of wine, a deal of it into poar Miss Griffinses lap, who
looked fritened and ready to cry.
My Lady bust into a fit of laffin, peel upon peel, as if it was
the best joak in the world. De I'Orge giggled and grin'd too.
" Pardong," says he ; " meal pardong, mong share munseer." * And
he looked as if he would have done it again for a penny.
The little Frenchman was quite in extasis ; he found himself all
of a suddn at the very top of the trea ; and the laif for oust turned
against his rivle : he actialy had the ordassaty to propose to my
Lady in English to take a glass of wine.
" Veal you," says he, in his jargin, " take a glas of Madere viz
* In the long dialogues, wo have generally ventured to change the peculiar
spelling of our friend Mr. Yellowplush.
3o8 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
me, mi Ladi 1 " And he looked round, as if he'd igsackly hit the
English manner and pronunciation.
"With the greatest pleasure," says Lady G., most graciously
nodding at him, and gazing at him as she drank up the wine. She'd
refused master before, and. this didn't increase his good humer.
Well, they went on, master snarling, snapping, and swearing,
making himself, I must confess, as much of a blaggard as any I
ever see ; and my Lady employing lier time betwigst him and the
Shevalliay, doing every think to irritate master, and flatter the
Frenchmn. Desert came : and by this time. Miss was stock-stiU
witli fright, the Chevaleer half tipsy with pleasure and gratafied
vannaty, my Lady pufiicldy raygent witli smiles, and master bloc
witli rage.
" ]\Ir. Deuceace," says my Lady, in a most winning voice, after
a little chaffing (in which she only worked him up moar and moar),
"may I trouble you for a few of those grapes? they look delicious."
For answer, master seas'd hold of the .grayp disli, and sent it
sliding down tlie table to Be I'Orge ; upsetting, in his way, fruit-
plates, glasses, dickauters, and Heaven knows what.
" Monsieur de I'Orge," says he, shouting out at the top of his
voice, " have the goodness to help Lady Griffin. She wanted mi/
grapes long ago, and has found out they are sour ! "
• «•••••
There was a dead paws of a moment or so.
" Ah ! " says my Lady, " vous osez m'insulter, devant mes gens,
dans ma propre maison — c'est par trop fort, monsieur." And up
she 45ot, and ffung out of the room. Miss followed her, screecliing
out, " Mamma — for God's sake — Lady Griffin ! " and here the door
slammed on tlic pair.
Her Ladyship did very well to speak Frencli. De VOrge would
not have understood her else ; as it was he heard quite enough ; and
as the door clikt too, in the presents of me, and Messeers Mortimer
and Fitzclarence, the family footmen, he walks round to my master,
and hits him a slap on tlie face, and says, " Prends ca, menteur et
lache ! " which means, " Take that, you liar and coward ! " — rayther
strong igspreshns for one genlmn to use to another.
Master staggered back and looked bewildered ; and then he
gave a kind of a scream, and then he made a run at the Frenchman,
and then me and Mortimer flung ourselves upon him, whilst Fitz-
clarence embraced the Shevalliay.
"A demaiu ! " says he, clinching his little fist, and walking
fi,way, not very sorry to git ofi:
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 309
When he was fairly down stares, we let go of master : who
swallowed a goblit of water, and tlien pawsing a little and pulling
out his pus, he presented to Messeers Mortimer and Fitzclarence a
luydor each. " I will give you five more to-morrow," says he, " if
you will i^romise to keep this secrit."
And then he walked in to the ladies. " If you knew," says lie,
going up to Lady Griffin, and speaking very slow (in cors we Avcre
all at the keyhole), " the pain I have endured in the last minute, in
consequence of the rudeness and insolence of whicli I have been
guilty to your Ladyship, you Avould think my own remorse was
punishment suflicicnt, and would grant me pardon.''
My Lady bowed, and said she didn't wish for explanations.
Mr. Deuceace was her daughter's guest, and not hers ; but she
certainly would never demean herself by sitting again at table with
him. And so saying, out she boltid again.
" Oh ! Algernon ! Algernon ! " says Miss, in teers, " what is
this dreadful mystery — these fearful sliocking quarrels'? Tell me,
has anything happened 1 Where, where is the Chevalier 1 "
Master smiled and said, " Be under no alarm, my sweetest
Matilda. De I'Orge did not understand a word of the dispute ; he
was too much in love for that. He is but gone aAvay for lialf-an-
hoiu-, I believe ; and will return to coff'ee."
I knew what master's game was, for if Miss had got a hinkling
of the quarrel betwigst him and the Frenchman, Ave should have
had her screeming at the " HGtel Mirabeu," and the juice and all to
pay. He only stopt for a few miimits and cumfitted her, and then
drove off to his friend. Captain Bullseye, of the Rifles ; witli Avhom,
I spose, he talked over this unplesnt bisniss. We fownd, at our
hotel, a note from Do I'Orge, saying wliere his secknd was to be seen.
Two mornings after there Avas a parr()Avgraf in Gallynanni/s
Messinger, which I hear beg leaf to transcrilic : —
^^ Fearful dud. — Yesterday morning, at six o'clock, a meeting
took place, in the Bois de Boulogne, betAveen the Hon. A. P.
D_ce-ce, a vounger son of the Earl of Cr-bs, and the Clievalier de
I'O . The chevalier Avas attended by Major de M , of the
Royal Guard, and the Hon. Mr. D by Cai-tain B-Us-ye, of
the British Rifle Corps. As far as we have been able to learn the
particulars of this deplorable afiair, the dispute oi-iginatcd m the
house of a lovely lady (one of the most brilliant urnameiits ot our
embassv), and tlie duel took place on the morning ensuing.
" The chevalier (the challenged party, and the most accomplished
amateur swordsman in Paris) waived his right of choosing the
weapons, and the comljat took place Avith pistols.
34
3IO ME.MOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
" Tlie combatants were placed at forty paces, with directions to
advance to a barrier which separated them only eight paces. Each
was furnished with two pistols. Monsieur de TO fired almost
immediately, and the ball took effect in the left wrist of his anta-
gonist, who dropped the pistol which he held in that hand. He
fired, however, directly Tvith his right, and the chevalier fell to the
ground, we fear mortally wounded. A ball has entered above his
hip-joint, and there is very little hope that he can recover.
" We have heard that tlie cause of this desperate duel was a
blow which the chevalier \entured to give to the Hon Mr. D. If
so, thei'e is some reason for the unusual and determined manner in
which the duel was fought.
"Mr. Deu — a-e returned to his hotel; whither his excellent
father, the Right Hon. Earl of Cr-bs, immediately hastened on
hearing of the sad news, and is now bestowing on his son the most
affectionate parental attention. Tlie news only reached his Lordship
3*esterday at noon, while at breakfast with his Excellency Lord
Bobtail, our Ambassador. The noble earl fainted on receiving the
intelligence ; but in spite of the shock to his ovm nerves and health,
persisted in passing last night by the couch of his son."
And so he did. "This is a sad business, Charles," says my
Lord to me, after seeing his son, and settling himself down in our
salong. " Have you any scgars in the house ? And, hark ye, send
me up a bottle of wine and some luncheon. I can certainly not
leave the neighbourhood of my dear boy."
CHAPTER VII
THE CONSQUINSIES
THE Shevalliay did not die, for the ball came out of its own
accord, in the midst of a violent fever and inflamayshn which
was brot on by the wound. He was kept in bed for 6 weeks
though, and did not recover for a long time after.
As f(^r master, his lot, I'm sorry to say, was wuss than that of
his advisary. Inflammation came on too ; and, to make an ugly
story short, they were oltliged to take oS his hand at the rist.
He bore it, in cors, like a Trojin, and in a month he too was
well, and his wound heel'd ; but I never see a man look so like a
devvle as he used sometimes, wdien he looked down at the
stump !
To be sure, in Miss Griffinses eyes, this only indeerd him the
mor. She sent twenty noats a day to ask for him, calling him her
beloved, her unfortunat, her hero, her wictim, and I dono what.
I've kep some of the noats as I tell you, and curiously sentimcntle
they are, beating the sorrows of MacAVhirter all to nothing.
Old Crabs used to come often, and consumed a power of wine
and seagars at our house. I bleave he was at Paris because there
was an exycution in his own house in England ; and his son Avas a
sure find (as they say) during his illness, and couldn't deny himself
to the old genlran. His eveninx my Lord spent reglar at Lady
Griffin's ; where, as master was ill, I didn't go any more now, and
where the Shevalier wasn't there to disturb him.
" You see how that woman hates you, Deuceace," says my Lord,
one day, in a fit of cander, after they had been talking about Lady
Griffin : " she has not done with you yet, I tell you fairly."
" Curse her," says master, in a fury, lifting up his maim'd arm —
" curse her ! but I -nail be even with her one day. I am sure of
Matilda : I took care to put that beyond the reach of a failure.
The girl must marry me, for her own sake."
"For her own sake! ho! Good, good!" My Lord lifted
his i's, and said gravely, "I understand, my dear boy: it is an
excellent plan."
"Well," says master, grinning fearcely and knowingly at his
312 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
exlent old father, "as the girl is safe, what harm can I fear from
the fiend of a stepmother ? "
My Lord only gev a long whizzle, and, soon after, taking np his
hat, walked oft". I saw him sawnter down the Plas Yandome, and
go in quite calmly to the old door of Lady Griffinses hotel. Bless
his old face ! such a puffickly good-natured, kind-hearted, merry,
selfish old scoundrel, I never shall see again.
His Lordship was quite right in saying to master that " Lady
Griflin hadn't done with him.'"' No moar she liad. But she never
would have thought of the nex game she was going to play, if sonie-
hodtj hadnH put her nj} to it. Wlio did 1 If you red the above
passidge, and saw how a venrabble old genlmn took Ids hat, and
sauntered do\vn the Plas Yandome (looking hard and kind at all
the nussary-maids^/yi/iis they call them in France — in the way), I
leave you to guess who was tlie autlior of tlie nex sclieam : a wcunan,
suttnly, never Avould have pitcht on it.
In the fuss payper which I wrote concerning Mr. Deuceace's ad-
venters, and his kind hchayviour to Messrs. Dawkins and Blewitt,
I liad the honour of laying before the public a skidewl of my master's
detts, in witch was the folloAving itim —
"BiUs of xchange and LO.U.'s, £49G3, Os. Od."
The I.O.U.se were trifling, saying a thowsnd pound. The bills
amountid to four thowsnd moar.
Now, the lor is in France, that if a genlmn gives these in
England, and a French genlmn gits them in any way, he can pursew
the Englishman who has drawn vhem, even though lie should be in
France. jMaster did not kno\y this fact — labouring under a very
common mistak, that, when onst out of England, he might wissle at
all the debts he left behind Inni.
My Lady Griflin sent over to her slissators in London, who
made arrangemints witli the pei-sons who possest the fine collection
of ortografs on stampt paper which master had left behind him ;
and thiy were glad enufl" to take any oppertunity of getting back
their money.
Onejfine morning, as I was looking about in the courtyard of
our hotel, talking to the servant-gals, as was my reglar custom, in
order to improve myself in the French languidge, one of them comes
up to me and says, " Tenez, I\I(!nsicur Charles, down below in the
office there is a bailiff*, with a couple of gendarmes, who is asking
for your master — a-t-il dcs dettes par liasard ? "
I was struck all of a heap — the truth flasht on my mind's hi.
" Toinette," says I, for that was the gal's name — *' Toinettc," saya
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 313
I, giving lier a kiss, " keep tliem for two minnits, as you valyou my
affecksliun ; " and then I gave lier another kiss, and ran up stares to
our cliambers. Master had now pretty well recovered of his wound,
and was aloud to drive abowt : it was lucky for him that he had
the strength to move. "Sir, sir," says I, "the Lailitt's are after
you, and you must run for your life."
" Bailiffs ? " says he : " nonsense ! I don't, thank Heaven, owe
a shilling to any man."
"Stuff, sir," says I, forgetting my respeck ; '"don't you owe
money in England ? I tell you the bailifts are here, and will be on
you in a moment."
As I sjioke, cling cling, ling ling, goes the bell of the anty-
sharaber, and there they were sure enough !
What was to be done 1 Quick as litening, I throws off my livry
coat, clajis my goold lace hat on master's head, and makes him put
on my livry. Then I wraps myself np in his dressing-gown, and
lolling down on the sofa, bids him open the dor.
There they were — the bailiff — two jondarms with him — Toin-
ette, and an old waiter. "When Toinette sees master, slie smiles,
and says : " Dis done, Charles ! oii est done ton maitre ? Chez lui,
n'cst-cc pas ? C'est le jcune homme li monsieur," says she, curtsying
to the bailiff".
The old waiter was just a-going to blurt out, " Mais ce n'est
pas !" when Toinette stops him, and says, "Laissez done passer ces
messieurs, vieux bete ; " and in they walk, the 2 jon d'arms taking
th-jir post in the hall.
Master throws open the salong dear very gravely, and touching
■mij liat says, " Have you any orders al)out the cab, sir 1 "
"Why, no, Chawls," says I ; "I shan't drive out to-day."
The old bailiff' grinned, for he understood English (having had
plenty of English customers), and says in French, as master goes
out, " I think, sir, you had better let your servant get a coach, for
I am under the painful necessity of arresting you, au nom de la loi,
for the sum of ninety-eight thousand seven hundred francs, owed
by you to the Sieur Jacques Franc^ois Lebrun, of Paris ; " and he
pulls out a number of bills, with master's acceptances on them
sure enough.
" Take a chair, sir," says I ; and down he sits ; and I began to
chaff" him, as well as I could, about the weatlier, my inness,_my sad
axdent, having lost one of my hands, which was stuck into my
busum, and so on.
At last after a minnit or two, I could contane no longer, and
bust out in a horse laff".
The old fellow turned quite pail, and began to suspect some-
31+ MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
think, " Hola ! " says he ; " gendarmes ! k moi ! k moi ! Je suis
floud, vol^," which means, in English, that he was reglar sold.
The jondarmes jumped into the room, and so did Toinette and
the waiter. Grascfly rising from my arm-chare, I took my hand
from my dressing-gownd, and, flinging it open, stuck uj) on the
chair one of the neatest legs ever seen.
I then pinted myjestickly— to what do you think ? — to my plush
TiTES ! these scllabrated inigspressables which have rendered me
famous in Yourope.
Taking the hint, the jondarraes and the servnts rord out laffing ;
and so did Charles Yell()wi)lush, Esquire, I can tell you. Old
Grippard the bailitf looked as if he would faint in his chare.
I heard a kab galloping like mad out of the hotel-gate, and
knew then that ray master was safe.
CHAPTER VIII
THE EXD OF MR. DEUCE ACES HISTORY-LIMBO
MY tail is droring rabidly to a close : my suvvice with Mr.
Deuceace didn't contiuyou very long after the last chapter,
in which I described my admiral strattyjam, and my singlar
self-devocean. Tliere's very few servnts, I can tell you, who'd have
thought of such a contrivance, and very few moar would have egg-
sycuted it when thought of.
But, after all, beyond the trifling advantich to myself in selling
master's roab de sham, which you, gentle reader, may remember I
woar, and in dixcovering a fipun note in one of the pockets, — beyond
this, I say, there w^as to poar master very little advantich in what
had been done. It's true he had escaped. Very good. But Frans
is not like Great Brittiu ; a man in a livry coat, with 1 arm, is
pretty easly known, and caught, too, as I can tell you.
Such was the case with master. He coodn leave Paris, moar-
over, if he would. Wliat was to become, in that case, of his bride
- — his unchbacked hairis ? He knew that young lady's temprimong
(as the Parishers say) too well to let her long out of his site. She
had nine thousand a yer. Siie'd been in love a duzn times befor, and
mite be agin. The Honrabble Algernon Deuceace was a little too
Avide awake to trust much to the constnsy of so very inflammable
a young creacher. Heavn bless us, it was a marycle she wasn't
earlier married ! I do bleave (from suttn scans that past betwigst
us) that she'd have married me, if she hadn't been sejuiced by the
supearor rank and indianuity of tlie genlmn in whose survace I was.
Well, to use a commin igspreshn, the beaks were after him.
How was he to manitch % He coodn get away from his debts, and
he wooden quit the fare objict of his affeckshns. He was ablccjd,
then, as the French say, to lie perdew, — going out at night, like a
howl out of a hivy-bush, and returning in the daytime to liis roast
For its a maxum in France (and I wood it were followed in Ingiand),
that after dark no man is lible for his detts ; and in any of the
Eoyal gardens— the Twillaries, the Pally Roil, or the Lucksimbug,
for example — a man may wander from sunrise to evening, and hear
nothing of the ojus dunns : they ain't admitted into these places of
3i6 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
public enjyment and rondyvoo any more than dogs ; the centuries
at the garden-gate having orders to shuit all such.
Master, then, was in this uncomfrable situation — neither liking
to go nor to stay ! peeping out at nights to have an interview with
his miss ; ableagd to shuffle off her repeated questions as to the
reason of all this disgeise, and to talk of his two thowsnd a year
jest as if he had it and didn't owe a shilling in the world.
Of course, now, he began to grow mighty eager for the marritch.
He roat as many noats as she had done befor ; swoar against
delay and cerymony ; talked of the pleasures of Hyming, tlie ardship
that the ardor of two arts shoidd be allowed to igspire, the folly of
waiting for tlie consent of Lady Griffin. She was but a step-mother,
and an unkind one. Miss was (he said) a major, might marry whom
she liked ; and suttnly had jiaid Lady G. quite as nuich attention
as she ought, by paying her tlie coni{)liment to ask her at all.
And so they went on. Tlic curious thing was, that when master
was pressed about his cause for not coming out till night-time, he
was misterus ; and M'ss Griffin, when a-sked why she wooden marry,
igsprest, or rather, didn't igspress, a sindar secra.sy. Wasn't it hard?
tlie cup seemed to be at the lip of both of 'em, and yet somehow,
they could not manitch to take a drink.
But one morning, in rejjly to a most desprat epistol wrote by
my master over night, Deuoeace, delighted, gits an answer from his
soal's beluffd, which ran thus : —
Miss Griffin to the lion. A. P. Deuceace.
" Dearest, — You say you would share a cottage with me ;
there is no need, luckily, for that ! You plead the sad sinking of
your spirits at our delayeil union. Beloved, do you think /hi/ heart
rejoices at oiu: separation? You bid me disregard the refusal of
Lady Griffin, and tell me that I owe her no further duty,
" Adored Algernon ! I can refuse you no more. I was willing
not to lose a single chance of reconciliation with this unnatural
step-mother. Respect for the memory of my sainted father bid me
do all in my ]iowcr to gain her consent to my union with you ; nay,
shall i own it ? prudence dictated the measure ; for to whom should
she leave the share of money accorded to her by my father's will
but to my father's child ?
" But there are bounds beyond which no forbearance can go ;
and, thank Heaven, we have no need of looking to Lady Griffin for
sordid wealth : we have a competency without her. Is it not so,
dearest Algernon 1
" Be it as you wish then, dearest, bravest, and best. Your poor
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUvJEACE 317
Matilda has yielded to you her heart long ago ; she has no longer
need to keep back her name. Name the hour, and I will delay "no
more ; but seek for refuge in your arms from the contumely and
insult which meet me ever here. Matilda.,
"^•'^'•— Oh, Algernon ! if you did but know wliat a noble i)art
your dear father has acted througliout, in doing his best endeavours
to further our plans, and to soften Lady Griffin ! It is not his fault
that she is inexorable as she is. I send you a note sent by her to
Lord Crabs ; we will laugh at it soon, n'est-ce pas ? "
II
" My Lord,— In reply to your demand for Miss Griffin's hand,
in favour of your son, Mr. Algernon Deuceace, I can only repeat
what I before have been under the necessity of stating to you — that
I do not believe a union with a person of Mr. Deuceace's character
would conduce to my step-daughter's happiness, and therefore refuse
my consent. I will beg you to communicate the contents of this
note to Mr. Deuceace ; and implore you no more to touch upon a
subject which you must be aware is deeply painful to me. — I remain
your Lordship's most humble servant, L. E. Griffin.
" The Right Hon. the Earl vf Crabs."
" Hang her Ladyship ! " says my master, " what care I for it ? "
As for the old lord who'd been so afishous in his kindness and advice,
master recknsiled that pretty well, with thinking that his Lordship
knew he was going to marry ten thousand a year, and igspected to
get some share of it ; for he roat back the following letter to his
father, as well as a flaming one to Miss : —
"Thank you, my dear father, for your kindness in that awk-
ward business. You know how painfully I am situated just now,
and can pretty well guess both the causes of my disquiet. A
marriage with my belo^•ed Matilda will make me the happiest of
men. The dear girl consents, and laughs at the foolish pretensions
of her mother-in-law. To tell you the truth, I wonder she yielded
to them so long. Carry your kindness a step further, and lind for
us a parson, a licence, and make us two into one. Wc are both
major, you know ; so that the ceremony of a guardian's consent is
unnecessary. — Your aftectionate, Algernon Deuceace."
" How I regret that difference between us some time back !
Matters are changed now, and shall be more still a/te7- the marriage,"
3i8 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
I kuew what my master meant, — that he would give the old
lord the money after he was married : and as it was probble that
miss would see the letter he roat, he made it sucli as not to let her
see two clearly into his present uncorafrable situation.
I took this letter along with the tender one for Miss, reading
both of 'era, in course, by the way. Miss, on getting liers, gave an
inegspressable look with the white of her i's, kist the letter, and
prest it to her busm. Lord Crabs read his quite calm, and then
they fell a-talking together; and told me to wait awhile, and I
should git an anser.
After a deal of counseltation, my Lord brought out a card, and
there was simply written on it.
To-morroxc, at the Ambassador's, at Twelve.
" Carry that back to your master, Chawls," says he, " and bid
him not to fail."
You may be sure I stept back to him pretty (juick, and gave
him the canl and tlic messingo. Master lonkoil sattu.sfied with lM)th ;
but suttnly not over liappy ; no man is the day before his marridge ;
much more liis marridge with a humjiback, Harriss though slio ha.
Well, as he was a-gt»ing to depart tliis bachelor life, lie did what
every man in such suckmstances ouglit to do : he made his will, —
that is, he made a dispasition of his property, and wrote letters to
his creditors tcllini: them of his lucky chance : and that after his
marridge he would sutauly pay them every stiver. Jk/ore, they
must kntnv his povvaty well enough to be sure that paj-uiiut was
out of tiie question.
To do him justas, he .scam'd to be inclined to do the thing that
was riglit, now that it didn't jnit him to any inkinvenients to do so.
" Chawls," says he, handing me over a tenpun-notc, " here's
your wagis, and thank you for getting me out of the scmpe with
the bailitl's : when we are married, you shall be my valet out of
liv'ry, and I'll treble your salary."
His vallit ! prai>s his butler ! Yes, thought I, here's a chance
— a vallit to ten thousand a year. Nothing to do but to shave
him, and read his notes, and let my whiskers grow; to dress in
spick and span black, and a clean shut per day; mutiings every
night in the housekeeper's room ; the pick of the gals in the scr\-ants'
hall ; a chap to clean my boots for me, and my ma.ster's o[>cra bone
reglar once a week. / knew what a vallit was as well as any
genlmn in ser\ice ; and this I can tell you, he's genrally a hapier,
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 319
idler, handsomer, mor genhiinly man than his master. He has
more money to spend, for genlmn tvill leave their silver in their
waistcoat pockets ; more suxess among the gals ; as good dinners,
and as good wine — that is, if he's friends with the butler : and
friends in corse they will be if they know which way their interest
lies.
But these are only cassels in the aii-, what the French call shutter
cVEspang. It wasn't roat in the book of fate that I was to be Mr.
Deuceace's vallit.
Days will pass at last — even days before a wedding (the longist
and nnpleasantist day in the whole of a man's life, I can tell you,
excep, may be, the day before his hanging) ; and at length Aroarer
dawned on the suspicious morning which was to unite in the bonds
of Hyming the Honrable Algernon Percy Deuceace, Exquire, and
Miss Matilda Griffin. My master's wardrobe wasn't so rich as it
had been ; for he'd left the whole of his nicknax and trumpry of
dressing-cases and rob dy shams, his bewtitie museum of varnished
boots, his curous colleckshn of Stulz and Staub coats, when he had
been ableaged to (piit so sudnly our pore dear lodginx at the Hotel
Mirabew ; and being incog at a friend's house, ad contentid himself
with ordring a coople of shoots of cloves from a common tailor, with
a suffisluit quantaty of linning.
Well, he put on the best of his coats — a blue ; and I thought it
my duty to ask him whether he'd want his frock again : he was
good-natured and said, " Take it and be hanged to you." Half-past
eleven o'clock came, and I was sent to look out at the door, if there
were any suspicious charicters (a precious good nose I have to find
a bailiff out I can tell you, and an i which will almost see one round
a corner) ; and presently a very modest green glass-coach droave up,
and in master stept. I didn't, in corse, appear on the box ; because,
being known, my appearints nught have compromised master. But
I took a short cut, and walked, as quick as posbil down to the Rue
de Foburg St. Honore, where his exlnsy the English ambasdor lives,
and where marridges are always performed betwigst English folk
at Paris.
There is, almost nex door to the ambasdor's hotel, another hotel,
of that lo kind which the French call cab])yrays, or wine-houses :
and jest as master's green glass-coach pulled up, another coach drove
off, out of which came two ladies, whom I knew pretty well,—
suftiz, that one had a humpback, and the ingenious reader will know
why she came there ; the other was poor Miss Kicksey, who came
to see her turned off".
Well, master's glass-coach droav up, jest as I got within a few
2
320 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
yards of the door ; our carridge, I say, droav up, and stopt. Down
gits coachmin to open the door, and comes I to give ]\Ir. Deuceace
an arm, when — out of the caharay shoot four fellows, and draw up
betwigst the coach and embassy doar ; two other chaps go to the
other doar of the carridge, and, opening it, one says — " Rendez-vous,
Monsieur Deuceace ! Je vous arrete au nom de la loi ! " (which
means, "Get out of that, Mr. D.; you are nabbed, and no mistake").
Master turned gashly pail, and sprung to the other side of the
coach, as if a sorpint had stung him. He flung open the door, and
was for making off that way ; but he saw the four chaps standing
betwigst libbarty and him. He slams down the front window, and
screams out, "Fouettez, cocher!" (which means, "Go it, coachmin!").
in a despert loud A'oice ; but coachmin wooden go it, and besides was
off his box.
The long and short of the matter was, that jest as I came up to
the door two of the bums jumped into the carridge. I saw all ; I
knew my duty, and so very mornfly I gut up behind.
"Tiens," says one of the chaps in the street; "c'est ce drule
qui nous a flou^ I'autre jour." I knew 'em, but was too melumcolly
to smile.
"Oi\ irons-nous done?" says coachmin to the genlmn who had
got inside.
A deep woice from the intearor shouted out, in reply to the
coachmin, '• A Saixte Pelagie ! "
And now, praps, I ot to dixcribe to you the humours of
the prizn of Saintc Pelagie, which is tlie French for Fleat, or
Queen's Bentch : but on this subject I'm rather shy of writ-
ing, partly because the admiral Boz has, in the history of Mr.
Pickwick, made such a dixcripshun of a prizn, that mine wooden
read very amyousingly afterwids ; and, also, because, to tell you
the truth, I didn't stay long in it, being not in a humer to
waist my igsistance by passing away the ears of my youth in such
a dull place.
My fust errint now was, as you may phansy, to carry a noat
from master to his destined bride. The poar thing was sadly taken
aback, as I can tell you, when she found, after remaining two hours
at the Embassy, that her husband didn't make his a]ipearance. And
so, after staying on and on, and yet seeing no husband, she was forsed
at last to trudge dishconslit home, where I was already waiting for
her with a letter from my master.
There was no use now denying the fact of his arrest, and so he
confest it at onst ; but he made a cock-and-bull story of treachery erf
a friend, infimous fodgery, and Heaven knows what. However, it
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 321
didn't matter much ; if he had told her that he had been betrayed
by the man in the moon, she would have bleavd him.
Lady Grittin never used to appear now at any of my visits. She
kep one drawing-room, and Miss dined and lived alone in another ;
they quarld so much that praps it was best they should live apart ;
only my Lord Crabs used to see both, comforting each witli tliat
winning and innsnt way he had. He came in as Miss, in tears, was
lisning to my account of master's seaziu-e, and hoping that the prisn
wasn't a horrid place, with a nasty horrid dunjeon, and a dreadile
jailer, and nasty horrid bread and water. Law bless us ! she had
borrod her ideers from the novvles she had been reading !
" my Lord, my Lord," says she, " have you heard this fatal
story r'
"Dearest Matilda, what"? For Heaven's sake, you alarm me!
What — yes — no — is it — no, it can't be ! Speak ! " says my Lord,
seizing me by the choler of my coat. " What has happened to
my boy 1 "
" Please you, my Lord," says I, " he's at this moment in prisn,
no wuss, — having been incarserated about two hours ago."
" In prison ! Algernon in i)rison ! 'tis impossible ! Imprisoned,
for what sum 1 Mention it, and I will pay to the utmost farthing
in my power."
" I'm sure your Lordship is very kind," says I (recklecting the
sean betwixgst him and master, whom he wanted to diddil out of a
thowsand lb.) ; "and you'll be ]iapi>y to hear he's only in for a tritle.
Five thousand pound is, I think, i)retty near the mark."
" Five thousand pounds ! — confusion ! " says my Lord, clasping
his hands, and looking up to heaven, "and I have not five hunched !
"Dearest Matilda, how shall we help him 1 "
" Alas, my Lord, I have but tliree guineas, and you know how
Lady Griffin has the "
" Yes, my sweet child, I know what you would say ; but be of
good cheer — Algernon, you know, has ample funds of his oAvn."
Thinking my Lord meant Dawkins's five thousand, of which, to
be sure, a good lump was left, I held my tung ; but I cooden help
wondering at Lord Crabs' igstream compashn for his son, and Miss,
with her £10,000 a year, having only 3 guineas in her pockit.
I took home (bless us, what a home I) a long and very inflamble
letter from Miss, in which she dixscribed her own sorror at the dis
appointment ; swoar she lov'd him only the moar for his ndsfortns ;
made light of them ; as a pusson for a paltry sum of five thousand
pound ought never to be cast down, 'specially as he had a certain
independence in view ; and vowed that nothing, nothing should ever
injuice her to part from him, etsettler, etsettler.
2 B
322 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
I told master of the conversation whicli had passed betwigst me
and my Lord, and of his handsome offers, and his liorrow at hearing
of his son's being taken ; and hkewise mentioned how strange it was
that Miss should only have 3 guineas, and with such a fortn : bless
us, I should have thot that she would always have carried a hundred
thowsnd lb. in her pockit !
At this mtiater only said Pshaw ! But the rest of the story
about his father seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made
me repeat it over agin.
He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if
a new lite was breakiug in upon him.
"Chawls," says he, "did you observe — did Miss — did my
father seem particular!)/ intiniate with Miss Grittin .' "'
"How do you mean, sir?" says I.
" Did Loni Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin ? "
" He was suttnly very kind to hor."
"Come, sir, speak at once: did I\Iiss Griffin seem very fond of
his Lordship 1 "
" Why, to tell the truth, sir, 1 must say she seemed very fond
of him."
"What did he call her?"
" He called her his dearest gal."
"Did he take her hand?"
"Yes, and lu "
" And ho what ? "
"He kist her, and told hor not to be so werj' down-hearted
about the misfortn which had hajmd to you."
' " I have it now ! " says he, clinching his fist, and growing
gashly pail^" I have it now— the infernal old hoary scoundrel !"
the wicked lumatural wretch ! He would take her from me ! "
And he i)ourcd out a volley of oaves which are impossbill to be
repeatid here,
I thot a.s much long ago : and when my Lord kern with his
vizits so pretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinscs, I expected some
such game was in tlie wind. Lidced, I'd heard a somethink of it
from the Gritiinses servnts, that my Lord was mighty tender with
the ladies.
One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckslial
capassaties : he must either marry the gal at oust, or he stood very
small chance of having lier. He must get out of limbo immediantly,
or his respectid fother might be stepping into his vaykint shoes.
Oh! he saw it all now— the fust attempt at arest, the marridge
fixt at 12 o'clock, and tlie baylitfs fixt to come -and intarup the
marridge ! — the jewel, praps, betwigst him and De TOrge : but no,
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 323
it was the ivoman who did that — a man don't deal sueli fowl blows,
igspecially a father to his son : a woman may, poar tiling ! — she's
no otlier means of reventch, and is used to fight with underhand
wepns all her life through.
Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty
clear that he'd been beat by his father at his own game — a trapp
set for him oust, which had been defitted by my i-»resnts of mind —
another trap set afterwids, in Avhicli my Lord had been suxesfle.
Now, my Lord, roag as he Avas, was much too good-natured to do
an unkind ackshn, niearly for the sake of doing it. He'd got to
that pich that he didn't mind injaries — they were all fair play to
him — he gave 'em and rescav'd tliem, without a thought of mallis.
If he wanted to injcr his gon, it was to bencfick liimself. And how
was this to be done 1 By getting the hairiss to himself, to be sure.
The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't say so ; but I knew his feelinx well
enough — he regretted that he had not given the old genlmn the
money he askt for.
Poar fello ! he thought he had liit it ; but he was wide of the
mark aftef all.
Well, but Avliat was to be done 1 It Avas clear that he must
marry the gal at any rate — coothj coot, as tlie French say : that is,
marry her, and hang the igspence.
To do so he must first git out of prisn — to get out of prisn he
must pay his debts — and to pay his debts, he must give every
shilling he was Avorth. Never mind : four thousand pound is a
small stake to a reglar gambler, igspecially Avhen he must play it,
or rot for life in prisn ; and Avhen, if he plays it well, it Avill give
him ten thousand a year.
So, seeing there Avas no help for it, he maid up his mind, and
accordingly wrote the foUying letter to Miss Griffin : —
" My Adoked Matilda, — Your letter has indeed been a com-
fort to a poor felloAV, Avho had hoped that this night Avould have
been the most blessed in his life, and now finds himself condemned
to spend it Avithin a prison AA-all ! You know the accursed con-
spiracy Avhich has brought these liabilities upon me, and tlie foolish
friendship Avhich has cost me so much. But Avhat matters ! We
have, as you say, enough, even though I must pay this shameful
demand upon me ; and five thousand pounds are as nothing, com-
pared to the hai)piness Avhich I lose in being separated a night from
thee ! Courage, hoAvever ! If I make a sacrifice it is for you ; and
I were heartless indeed if I alloAved my oAvn losses to balance for a
moment against your happiness.
"Is it not so, beloved one 1 Is not your happiness bound up
324 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
with mine, in a union with me 1 I am proud to think so — proud,
too, to offer such a humble proof as this of the depth and purity of
my affection.
" Tell me that you will still be mine ; tell me that you will be
mine to-morrow ; and to-morrow these vile chains shall be removed,
and I will be free once more — or if bound, only bound to you ! My
adorable Matilda ! my betrothed bride ! write to me ere the evening
closes, for I shall never be able to shut my eyes in slumber upon
my prison couch, until they have been first blessed by tlie sight
or a few words from thee ! Write to me, love ! write to me ! I
languisla for the reply which is to make or mar me for ever. — Your
aftectionate, A. P. D."
•
Having polisht off this cpistol, master intrustid it to me to carry,
and bade me at the same time to try and give, it into Miss Griffin's
hand alone. I ran Avith it to Lady Griffinses. I found Miss, as I
desired, in a soUatary condition ; and I presented her with master's
pafewmed Billy.
She read it, and the number of size to which she gave vint, and
the tears which she shed, beggar digscription. She wep and sighed
until I thought she would bust. She even claspt my hand in her's,
and said, " Charles ! is he very, very miserable ? "
"He is, ma'am," says I; "very miserable indeed — nobody,
upon my honour, could be miserablerer."
On hearing tliis pethetic remark, her mind was made up at oust :
and sitting downi to her cskrewtaw, she immediantly ableaged master
with an answer. Here it is in black and white : —
" My prisoned Inrd shall pine no more, but fly home to its nest
in these arms ! Adored Algernon, I will meet thee to-morrow, at
the same place, at the same hour. Then, then it will be impossible
for aught but dcatli to divide us. M. G."
This kind of flumry style comes, you see, of reading novvles,
and cultivating littery purshuits in a small way. How much better
is it to be pulRckly ignorant of the hart of writing, and to trust to
the writing of the heart. This is mi/ style : artyfiz I despise, and
trust compleatly to natur : but revnong a no mootong, as our conti-
ncntial friends remark : to that nice white sheep, Algernon Percy
Deuceace, Exquire ; that wenrabble old rani, my Lord Crabs his
father ; and that tender and dellygit young lamb. Miss Matilda
Griflin.
She had just foalded up into its proper triangular shape the
noat transcribed abuff, and I was just on the point of saying,
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 325
according to my master's orders, " Miss, if you please, the Honraljble
Mr. Deuceace would be very nuich ableaged to you to keep the
seminary which is to take jHace to-morrow a profound se ,"
when my master's father entered, and I fell back to the door. Miss,
without a word, rusht into his arms, burst into teers agin, as was
her reglar way (it must be confest she was of a very mist con-
stitution), and showing to him his son's note, cried, " Look, my
dear Lord, how miljly your Algernon, our Algernon, writes to me.
Who can doubt, after this, of tlie purity of his matchless
affection ? "
My Lord took the letter, read it, seamed a good deal amyoused,
and returning it to its owner, said, very much to my surprise, " My
dear Miss Griffin, he certainly does seem in earnest ; and if you
choose to make this match without the consent of your }u(itlior-in-law,
you know the consequences, and are of course your own mistress."
" Consequences ! — for shame, my Lord ! A little money, more
or less, what matters it to two hearts like ours % "
" Hearts are very pretty things, my sweet young lady, Init
Three-per-Cents. are better."
" Nay, have we not an ample income of our own, without the
aid of Lady Griffin ? "
My Lord shrugged his shoulders. " Be it so, my love," says
he. " I'm sure I can have no other reason to prevent a union which
is founded uijon such disinterested affection."
And here the conversation drojjt. Miss retired, clasping her
hands, and making play Avith the whites of her i's. My Lord began
trotting up and down the room, with his fat hands stuck in his
britchis pockits, his countnince liglitcil up with igstream joy, and
singing, to my inordnit igstonishment —
" Sec the conquering hero comes !
Tiddy diddy doll— tiddydoll, doll, doll."
He began singing this song, and tearing up and doA\n the room
like mad. I stood amazd — a new light broke in upon me. He
wasn't going, then, to make love to Miss Griffin ! Master might
marry her ! Had she not got the for 1
I say, I was just standing stock still, my eyes fixt, my hands
puppindicklar, my mouf wide open, and these igstrordinary thoughts
passing in my mind, when my Lord having got to the last "doll"
of his song, just as I came to the sillible "for" of my ventriloquism,
or inward speech — we had eatch jest reached the pint digscrilied,
when the meditations of both were sudnly stopt, by my Lord, in tlie
midst of liis singin and trottin match, coming bolt up aginst poar
me, sending me up aginst one end of the room, himself flying back
326 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
to the other : and it "was only after considrabble agitation that we
were at length restored to anything like a liquilibrium.
" What, yoii here, you infernal rascal 1 " says my Lord.
"Your Lordship's very kind to notus me," says I; "I am
here." And I gave him a look.
He saw I knew the whole game.
And after whisling a bit, as was his habit when puzzled (I
blcave he'd have only whisled if he had been told he was to be
hanged in five minits), after whisling a bit, he stops suduly, and
coming up to me, says —
" Hearkye, Charles, this marriage must take place to-moiTOW."
" Must it, sir?" says I ; "now, for my part, I don't tliink "
" Stop, my good fellow ; if it does not take place, what do you
gain 1. "
This stagger'd me. If it didn't take place, I only lost a situa-
tion, for master had but just enough money to pay his detts ; and
it wooden soot my book to serve him in prisn or starving.
"Well," says my Lord, "you see the force of my argument.
Now, look here ! " and he lugs out a crisp, lluttering, snowy
HUNDRED-PUN NOTE ! " If my SOU and Miss Griffin arc mairied
to-morrow, you shall have this ; and I will, moreover, take you into
my service, and give you double your i)rosent wages."
Flesh and blood coodcn bear it. " My Lord," says I, laying my
hand upon my busm, " only give me security, and I'm yoiu-s for ever."
The old noblemin grin'd, and pattid me on tlie shoulder.
" Right, my lad," says he, " riglit — you're a nice promising youth.
Here is the best security." And he pulls out his pockit-book,
returns the hundred-pun bill, and takes out one for fifty. " Here is
half to-day ; to-morrow you shall have the remainder."
My fingers trend)lcd a little as I took the pretty fluttering bit
of paper, about five times as big as any sum of money I had ever
had in my life. I cast my i upon the amount : it was a fifty sure
enougli — a bank poss-bill, made jxiyable to Leonora Emilia Griffin,
and indorsed by her. The cat was out of the bag. Now, gentle
reader^ I spose you begin to see the game.
"Recollect, from this day you are in my service.''
" My Lordj you ovcrpoar me with yom- faviours."
" Go to the devil, sir," says he ; " do your duty and hold your
tongue."
And thus I went from the service of the Honorabble Algernon
Deuceace to that of his exlnsy the Right Honorabble Earl of Crabs.
• •••*.•
On going back to prisn, I found Deuceace locked up in that
oajus place to whicli his igstravygansies had deservedly led him ;
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 327
and felt for him, I must say, a great deal of contemp. A rasklo
such as lie — a swindler, who had robljed poar Dawkins of the nieaiis
of igsistauce ; wlio had cheated his fellow-roag, Mr. Richard Blewitt,
and who was making a nuisnary marridge with a disgusting creaclier
like Miss Griffin, didn merit any compashn on my part ; and I
determined quite to keep secret the suckmstansies of my privit
intervew with his exlnsy my present master.
I gev him Miss Griffinses trianglar, which he read Avitli a.
satasfied air. Then, turning to me, says he : " You gave tliis to
Miss Griffin alone ? "
" Yes, sir."
'• You gave her my message ? "
" Yes, sir."
" And you are quite sure Lord Crabs was not there when you
gave either the message on the note 1 "
" Not there, upon my honour," says I.
" Hang your honour, sir ! Brush my hat and coat, and go call
a coach — do you hear 1 "
• • • • • • ' •
I did as I was ordered ; and on coming back found master in
wdiat's called, I tlunk, the greft'e of the prisn. The officer in waiting
had out a great register, and was talking to master in the Frencli
tongue, in coarse ; a number of poar prisners were looking eagerly on.
"Let us see, my lor," says he; "the debt is 98,700 francs;
there are capture expenses, interest so much ; and the whole sum
amounts to a hundred thousand francs, tnoms 13."
Deuceace, in a very myjestic way, takes out of his pocket-book
four thowsnd pun notes. " This is not French money, but I presume
that you know it, Monsieur Greffier," says he.
The greffier turned round to old Solomon, a money-changer,
who had one or two clients in the prisn, and hapnd luckily to
be there. "Les billets sont bons," says he. "Je les prendrai
pour cent mille deiuc cents francs, et j'espere, my lor, de vous
revoir."
" Good," says the gi-effier ; " I know them to be good, and I
will give my lor the diti'erence, and make out his release."
Which was done. The poar debtors gave a feeble cheer, as the
great dubble iron gates swung open and clang to again, and Deuceace
stept out, and me after him, to breathe tlie fresh hair.
He had been in the place but six liours, and was now free
again — free, and to be married to ten thousand a year nex day.
But, for all that, he lookt very foint and pale. He had put down
his great stake ; and v,-lien he came out of Sainte Pelagic, he had
but fifty pounds left in the world !
328 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Never mind — wlien oust the money's down, make your mind
easy ; and so Deuceace did. He drove back to the Hotel Mirabew,
wliere he ordered ajiartinince infinately more splendid tlian l^efor ;
and I pretty soon told Toinette, and the rest of the siu^^ants, how
nobly he behayved, and how he valyoud four thousnd pound no
more than ditch water. And such was the consqiiincies of my
I)raises, and the poplarity I got for us boath, that the delighted
landlady imniediantly charged him dubble what she would have
done, if it hadn been for my stoaries.
He ordered splendid apartmince, then, for the nex week ; a
canidge-and-four for Fontainebloau to-morrow at 1 2 precisely ; and
liaving settled all these things, Avent quietly to the " Roshy de
Cancale," where he dined : as well he might, for it was now eight
o'clock. I didn't spare the shompang neither that night, I can tell
you ; for when I carried the note he gave me for Miss Griffin in
the evening, informing her of his freedom, that young lady remarked
my hagitatcd manner of walking and speaking, and said, " Honest
Charles I he is fluslit with the events of the day. Here, Charles, is
a napoleon ; take it and drink to your mistress."
I pockitid it ; but, I must say, I didn't like the money — it
went against my stomick to take it
CHAPTER IX
THE MARRIAGE
WELL, the iiex day came : at 12 the carridge-and-four was
waiting at the ambasdor's doar ; and Miss Griffin and the
faithUe Kicksey were punctial to the apintrnciit.
I don't wish to digscribe the marridge seminary — how the em-
basy chapling jined the hands of this loving young couple — how one
of the embasy footmin was called in to witness the marridge — how
Miss wep and fainted, as nsial — and how Deuceace carried her,
fainting, to the brisky, and drove off to Fontiugblo, where they
were to pass the fust weak of the honeymoon. They took no
servnts, because they wisht, they said, to be privit. And so,
when I had shut up the steps, and bid the postilion drive on, I
bid ajew to the Honrabble Algernon, and went oft' strait to his
exlent father.
" Is it all over, Chawls ? " said he.
"I saw them turned oft' at igsackly a quarter past 12, my
Lord," says I.
"Did you give Miss Griffin the paper, as I told you, before
her marriage 1 "
" I did, my Lord, in the presents of Mr. Brown, Lord Bobtail's
man ; who can swear to her having had it."
I must tell you that my Lord had made me read a paper which
Lady Griffin had written, and which I was comishnd to give in the
manner menshnd abuft'. It ran to this eft'ect : —
"According to the authority given me by the will of my lato
dear husband, I forbid the marriage of Miss Griffin with the Honour-
able Algernon Percy Deuceace. If Miss Griffin persists in the union,
I warn her that she must abide by the consequences of her act.
"Leonora Emilia Geiffin.
"Rue de Rivoli: 3Iai/ 8, 1818."
When I gave this to Miss as she entered the cortyard, a minnit
before my master's arrivle, she only read it contemptiously, and
said, "I laugh at the threats of Lady Griffin;" and she toar the
330 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
paper in two, and walked on, leaning on the arm of the faithful and
obleaging Miss Kicksey.
I picked up the paper for fear of axdents, and brot it to my
Lord. Not that there was any necessaty ; for he'd kep a copy,
and made me and another witniss (my Lady Griffin's solissator)
read them both, before he sent either away.
" Good ! " says he ; and he projuiced fixnn his potfolio tlie fello
of that bewchus fifty-pun note, which he'd given me yesterday. " I
keep my promise, you see, Charles," says he. "You are now in
Lady Griffin's service, in the place of Mr. Fitzclarencc, who retires.
Go to Frojd's, and get a livery."
" But, my Lord," says I, " I was not to go into Lady Griffiuses
service, according to the bargain, but into "
" It's all tlie same thing," says he ; and he walked off. I went
to Mr. Froje's, and ordered a new livry ; and fmrnd, likwise, tliat
our coachmin and Munseer Mortimer had been there too. My Lady's
livery was changed, and was now of the same color as my old coat
at Mr. Dcucoace's; and I'm blest if tliere wa.«;n't a tromonjious gi'oat
earl's corrDuit on the butins, instid of the Griffin rampiiit, which
was worn befoar.
I asked no questions, however, but had myself measured ; and
slep that night at the Plas Yandome. I didn't go out with the
carridge for a day or two, thougli ; my Lady only taking one footmin,
she said, imtil her neio carridge was turned out.
I think you can guess what's in the Avind now !
I bot myself a dressing-case, a box of Ody colong, a few duzcu
lawn sherts and neckcloths, and other things which were necessary
for a genlmn in my rank. 8ilk stockings wa.s provided by the
rules of the house. And I completed the bisniss by writing the
foUviug ginteel letter to mv late master : —
Charles Yellowjilush, Esquire, to the Honourable A. P. Deuceace.
"SuR, — Suckmstansies have acurd sins I last had tlic honner of
wating on you, which render it impossl)il tiiat I should rcmane any
longer in your suvvice. I'U thank you to leave out my thinx, when
they come home on Sattady from the wash. — Your obeajnt ser\nit,
" Charles Yellowplush,
"Plas VEXDOiiE."
The athograpliy of the abuv noat, I confess, is atrocious ; but
l-e voolyvoo ? I was only eighteen, and hadn then the expearance
in writing which I've enjide sins.
Having thus done my jewty in cvrv way, I shall prosead, in
the nex chapter, to say what hapnd in my new place.
CHAPTER X
THE HONEYMOON
THE weak at Fontingblow past quickly away ; and at the end
of it, our son and daughter-in-law — a pare of nice young
tuttle-duvs — returned to their nest, at the Hotel Mirabew.
I svispeck that the ,cock turtle-dove was preshos sick of liis barging.
When they arriv'd, the fust thing they found on their talkie was
a large parsle wrapt uj) in silver paper, and a newspaper, and a
coujile of cards, tied up with a peace of white ribbing. In the
parsle was a hansume piece of plum-cake, with a deal of sugar.
On the cards was wrote, in Goffick characters.
(Bnxl of Crabs.
And, in very small Italian,
Coimtess of Crabs.
And in the paper was the following parrowgi-aff : —
"Marriage in High Life. — Yesterday, at the British Embassy,
the Right Honourable John Augustus Altamont Plantagenet, Earl
of Crabs, to Leonora Emilia, widow of the late Lieuteuant-Gencral
Sir George Griffin, K.C.B. An elegant dejeuner Avas given to the
liappy couple by his Excellency Lord Bobtail, who gave away the
bride. The e'lite of tlie foreign diplomacy, the Prince Talleyrand
and Marshal the Duke of Dalmatia on behalf of H.M. the King of
France, honoured tlie banquet and the marriage ceremony. Lord
and Lady Crabs intend passing a few weeks at Saint Cloud."
The above dockyments, along with my own triffling l^illy, of
which I have also givn a copy, greated Mr. and Mrs. Deuceacc on
332 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
their arrivlc from Fontingblo. Not being present, I can't say what
Deuceace said ; but I can fancy how he looJd, and how poor Mrs.
Deuceace lookt. They weren't much inchned to rest after the fiteeg
of the junuy ; for, in i an hour after their arrival at Paris, the
hosses were put to the carridge agen, and down they came thunder-
ing to our country-house at St. Cloud (pronounst by those absud
Frenchmin Sing Kloo), to interrup our chaste loves and delishs
marridge injyments.
My Lord was sittu in a crimson satan dressing-gown, lolling on
a sofa at an open windy, smoaking seagars, as ushle ; her Ladyship,
who, to du her justice, didn nnnd the smell, occupied another end of
the room, and was working, in wusted, a pare of slippers, or an
umbrellore case, or a coal-skittle, or some such nonsints. You would
have thought to have scan 'em that they had been married a sentry,
at least. Well, I bust in upon tliis conjugal tator-tator, and said,
very much alarmed, "Jly Lord, liere's your son and daugliter-in-
law."
"Well," says my Lord, quite calm, "and what then?"
" jMr. Deuceace ! " says my Lady, starting up, and looking
fritened.
" Yes, my love, my son ; but you need not be alarmed. Pray,
Charles, say that Lady Crabs and I will be very happy to see Mr.
and ]\L-.s. Deuceace ; and that they must excuse us receiving them
671 famille. Sit still, my blessing — take things coolly. Have you
got the box with the papers ? "
My Lady ])ointed to a great green box — the same from which
she had taken the papers, when Deuceace fust saw them, — and
han(k\l over to my Lord a fine gold key. I went out, met Deuceace
and liis wife on the stepps, gave my messinge, and bowed them
palitely in.
My Lord didn't rise, but smoakeil away as usual (praps a little
quicker, but I can't say) ; my Lady sat ui>riLrht, looking liandsum
and strong. Deuceace walked in, his left arm tied to his breast,
his wife and hat on the other. He looked very pale and frightened;
his wife, poar thing ! had her head berried in her handkerchief, and
sobd fit to break her heart.
Miss Kicksey, who was in the room (but I didn't mention her,
she was less than nothink in our house), went up to Mrs. Deuceace
at oust, and held out her arms — she had a heart, that old Kicksey,
and I respect her for it. The poor hunchback flung herself into
Miss's arms, with a kind of whooping screech, and kep there for
some time, sobbing in quite a historical manner. I saw there was
going to be a scan, and so, in cors, left tlie door ajar.
■ Welcome to Saint Cloud, Algy, my boy ! " says my Lord, in a
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 333
loud hearty voice. " You thought you would give us the slip, eh,
you rogue 1 But we knew it, my dear fellow : we kuew the whole
affair — did we uot, my soul 1 — and, you see, kept our secret better
than you did yours."
"I must confess, sir," says Deuceace, bowing, "that I had no
idea of the happiness which awaited me in the shape of a mother-in-
law."
"No, you dog; no, no," says my Lord, giggling: "old birds,
you know, not to be caught witli chaff, like young ones. But here
we are, all spliced and happy, at last. Sit down, Algernon ; let us
smoke a segar, and talk over the perils and adventures of the last
month. My love," says my Lord, turning to his lady, " you have
no malice against poor Algernon, I trust 1 Pray shake his haiicV
(A grin.)
But my Lady rose and said, " I have told Mr. Deuceace, that I
never wished to see him, or speak to him more. I see no reason,
now, to change my opinion." And herewith she sailed out of the
room, by the door tlarough which Kicksey had carried poor Mrs.
Deuceace.
" Well, well," sfvys rny Lord, as Lady Crabs swept by, " I was in
hopes she had forgiven you ; but I know the whole story, and I must
confess you used her cruelly ill. Two strings to your bow ! — that was
your game, was it, you rogne 1 "
" Do you mean, my Lord, that you know all that past between
me and Lady Grif Lady Crabs, Itefore our quarrel ? "
" Perfectly — you made love to her, and she was almost in love
with you ; you jilted her for money, she got a man to shoot your
hand off in revenge : no more dice-boxes, now, Deuceace ; no more
saufer la coup. I can't think how the deuce you will manage to
live without them."
" Your lordship is very kind ; but I have given up play alto-
gether," says Deuceace, looking mighty black and uneasy.
"Oh, Indeed! Benedick has turned a moral man, has he?
This is better and better. Ai-e you thinking of going into the
Church, Deuceace 1 "
" My Lord, may I ask you to be a little more serious ? "
" Serious ! a quoi bon 1 I ain serious— serious in my surprise
that, when you might have had either of these women, you should
have preferred that hideous wife of yours."
"■ May I ask you, in tiu-n, \\o\\ you came to be so little squeamish
about a wife, as to choose a woman who had jlist been making love
to your own son % " says Deuceace, growing fierce.
"How can you ask such a question? I owe forty thousand
pounds— there is an execution at Sizes Hall— every acre I have is
334 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
in tlie hands of nij- creditors ; and that's why I married her. Do
you think there was any love 1 Lady Crabs is a dev'lish fine woman,
but she's not a fool — she married me for my coronet, and I married
her for her money."
"^ " Well, my Lord, you need not ask me, I think, why I married
the daughter-in-law."
"Yes, but I do, my dear boy. How the deuce are you to
live ? Dawkins's five thousand pounds .won't last for ever. And
afterwards 1 "
" You don't mean, my Lord — you don't — I mean, you can't
D !" says he, starting up, and losing all patience, "you don't
dare to say that Miss Griffin had not a fortune of ten thousand
a year 1 "
My Lord was rolling up, and wetting bctwigst his lips, another
segar ; he lookt up, after he had lighted it, and said quietly —
" Certainly, Miss Griffin had a fortune of ten thousand a year."
" Well, sir, and has she not got it now ] H:xs she spent it in
a week 1"
" She has not got a sixpence now : she married tvithoict her
inother''s consent ! "
Deuceace sank down in a chair ; and I never see such a dreadful
picture of despair as there wa« in the fixce of that retchid man ! — he
writhed, and nasht his teeth, he tore open his coat, and wriggled
madly tlic stump of his left hand, until, fairly beat, he throw it over
his livid i)ale face, and sinking Ijackwards, fairly wept alowd.
Bah ! it's adrcddfle thing to liear a man crying ! liis pashn torn
up from the very roots of his heart, as it must be before it can git
such a vent. My Lord, meanwhile, rolled his segar, lighted it, and
went on.
" My dear boy, the girl has not a shilling. I wished to have
left you alone in i)eaco, with your four tliousand pounds ; you might
have lived decently upon it in Germany, where money is at 5 per
cent., where your duns would not find you, and a couple of hundred
a year would have kei)t you and your wife in comfort. But, you
see. Lady Crabs would not listen to it. You had injured her ; and,
after she had tried to kill you and foiled, she determined to ruin
you, and succeeded. I must own to you that I directed the arrest-
ing business, and put her up to buying your jirotested bills : she
got them for a trifle, and as you have paid tliera, has made a good
two thousand pounds by her bargain. It was a painful thing, to
be sure, for a father to get his son arrested ; but que voulez-vous ?
I did not appear in the transaction : she would have you ruined ;
and it was absolutely necessary that you shonld marry before I
could, so I pleaded your cause with Miss Griffin, and made you the
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 335
happy man you arc. You rogue, you rogue ! you tlmught to luatch
your old father, did you 1 But, never mind; hnich will be ready soon.
In the meantime, have a segar, and drink a gla.ss of Sautenie."
Deuceace, who had been listening to this speech, sprmig up
wildly.
" I'll not believe it," he said : "it's a lie, an infernal lie I forged
by you, you hoary villain, and by the murderess and strumpet you
have married. I'll not believe it : show me the will. Matilda I
Matilda ! " shouted he, screaming hoarsely, and Hinging open the
door by which she had gone out.
" Keep your temper, my boy. You are vexed, and I feel
for you : but don't use such bad language : it is quite needless,
believe me."
"Matilda ! " shouted out Deuceace again ; and the poor crooked
thing came trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey.
" Is this true, woman 1 " says he, clutching hold of her hand.
" What, dear Algernon 1 " says she.
"WhatT' screams out Deuceace, — "what? Why, that you
are a beggar, for marrying without your mother's consent — that
you basely lied to me, in order to bring about this match — that
you are a swindler, in conspiracy with that old fiend yonder and
the she-devil his wdfe 1 "
"It is true," sobbed the poor woman, "that I have nothing;
but "
"Nothing but what? Why don't you speak, you drivelhng
fooir'
" I have nothing !— but you, dearest, have two thousand a year.
Is that not enough for us 1 You love me for myself, don't you,
Algernon 1 You have told mc so a thousand times — say so again,
dear husband ; and do not, do not be so unkind." And here slie
sank on her knees, and clung to him, and tried to catch his hand,
and kiss it.
" How much did you say 1 " says my Lord.
" Two thousand a, year, sir ; lie has told us so a thousand times."
« Tu^o thousand ! 'Two thou— ho, ho, ho !— haw ! haw ! haw ! "
roars my Lord. " That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard m
my life.'^ My dear creature, he has not a shilhng— not a smgle
maravedi, by^lll the gods and goddesses." And this exlnt noblemiu
began laffin louder than ever : a very kind and feeling genlinu ho
was, as all must confess.
There was a paws : and I\Irs. Deuceace didn begni cussuig and
swearino- at her husband as he had done at her : she only said, " Oh
Algernon ! is this true?" and got up, and went to a chair, and wep
.in quiet.
3
336 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLO^yPLUSH
My Lord opened the .great box. "If you or your lawyers
would like to examiue Sir George's will, it is quite at your service ;
you will see here the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the
entire fortune to Lady Griffin — Lady Crabs that is : and here, my
dear boy, you see the danger of hasty conclusions. Her Ladyship
only showed you the first j^cioe of the tvill, of course ; she wanted
to try you. You thought you made a great stroke in at once pro-
posing to Miss Griffin — do not mind it, my love, he really loves
you now very sincerely ! — when, in fact, you would have done
much better to have read the rest of the will. You were completely
bitten, my boy — humbugged, bamboozled — ay, and by your old
father, you dog. I told you I would, you know, when you refused
to lend me a portion of your Dawkins lUDuey. I told you I woulil ;
and I did. I had you the very next day. Let this be a lesson
to you, Percy, my boy ; dcm't try your luck again against such old
hands : look deuced well before you leap ; audi alteram partem, my
lad, whi(-h means, read both sides of the will. I think lunch is
ready ; but I see you don't smoke. Shall we go in 1 "
"Stoj), my Lord," says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: "I shall
not share your hosi)itality — but — but you know my condition ; I
am penniless — you know the manner in which my wife has been
brought up "
" The Honoiu-able INIrs. Deuceace, sir, sliall always find a home
here, as if nothing had occurred to intcrrujit the friendshiit between
her dear mother and herself."
" And for mo, sir," says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very
slow; "I hope — I trust— I think, my Lord, you will not for-
get me 1 "
" Forget you, sir ; certainly not.''
"And that you will make some ])rovisiiiii ?"
" Algernon Deuceace,'" says my Lord, getting up from the sophy,
and looking at him with sich a jolly malignity, a.s / never see, " I
declare, before Heaven, that I will not give you a i>cnny ! "
Hereupon my Lord held out his hand to ]\Ir,s. Deuceace, and
said, "My dear, will you join your mother and me? We shall
always, as I said, have a home for you."
" jNIy Lord," said the poar thing, dropping a curtsey, " my home
is with h im ! "
About three months after, when the season was beginning at
Paris, and the autumn loafs was on the ground, my Lord, my
THE AMOURS OF MR. DEUCEACE 337
Lady, me and IMortimer, were taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong,
the carridge driving on slowly ahead, and us as happy as possbill,
admiring the pleasant woods and the goldn sunset.
My Lord was expayshating to my Lady upon the exquizit beauty
of the sean, and jiouring forth a host of butifle and virtuous senta-
ments sootable to the hour. It was dalitefle to hear him. " Ah ! "
said he, "black must lie the heart, my love, wliich does not feel tiie
influence of a scene like this ; gathering, as it were, from those sunlit
skies, a portion of their celestial gold, and gaining somewhat of heaven
with each pure draught of this delicious air ! "
Lady Crabs did not speak, but prest his arm and looked upwards,
Mortimer and I, too, felt some of the infliwents of the sean, and
lent on oiu" goold sticks in silence. The carriage drew up close to
us, and my Lord and my Lady sauntered slowly tords it.
Jest at the place was a bench, and on the bench sate a jioorly
drest woman, and by her, leaning against a tree, was a man whom
I thought I'd sean befor. He was drest in a shabby blew coat,
with white seems and copper buttons ; a torn hat was on his head,
and great ciuantaties of matted hair and Avhiskers disfiggared his
countnints. He was not shaved, and as jtale as stone.
My Lord and Lady didn tak the slightest notice of liim, but
past on to the carridge. Me and Mortimer lickwise took our places.
As we past, the man had got a grip of the woman's shoulder, Avho was
holding down her head, sobbing bitterly.
No sooner were my Lord and Lady seated, than they both, with
igstream dellixy and good natur, bust into a ror of lafter, peal upon
peal, whooping and screaching enough to frighten the evening silents.
Deuceace turned round. I see his face now — the face of a
devvle of hell ! Fust, he lookt towards the carridge, and pinted to
it with his maimed arm ; then he raised the other, and strnick the
woman hy k/'s side. She fell, screaming.
Poor thing ! Poor thing !
-'o
MR, YELLOIVPLUSH'S A JEW
THE oud of Mr. Deuceace's history is going to be the end of
my corrispondince. I wish the i)ublic was as sory to part
with me as I am with the i)ublic ; becaws I fansy reely that
we've l)ec()me fronds, and feal fur my part a becoming greaf at
saying ajew.
It's imposbill for me to continyow, however, a-wTitin, as I liave
done — violettiiig tlie rnk's of avitliography, and tranipUng upon tlie
fust princei)ills of English grammar. When I began, I knew no
better : when I'd carrid on these jiapers a little farther, and grew
accustmd to writin, I iK^gan to smel out SDmethink quear in my
style. Within the last sex weaks I have been learning to spell :
and when all the world was rejoicing at the festivvaties of our
youtliful Quean * — when all i's were fixt upon her long sweet of
ambasdors and princes, folhnving the splendid carridge of Marshle
the Duke of Damlatiar, and 1 (linking at the j^earls and dimince of
Prince Oystcreasy — Yellowplush was in his loauly pantry — his
eyes Avere fixt nj)on the spelling-book — his heart was bent upon
mastring the ditiickleties of tlie littery profcsshn. I have been, in
fact, convertid.
You shall here how. Ours, you know, is a Wig house ; and
ever sins his third son has got a jdace in the Treasury, his secknd
a captingsy in the Guards, his fust, the secretary of embasy at
Pokin, with a prospick of being appinted arabasdor at Loo Choo
— ever sins master's sons have reseaved these, attentions, and
master himself has had the promis of a i)earitch, he has been the
most rcglar, consistnt, honrabble Libbaral, in or out of the House
of Commins.
Well, being a Wliig, it's the fashn, as you know, to reseave
littery pipple ; and accordingly, at dinner, totlier day, whose name
do you think I had to hollar out on the fust landing-place about a
wick ago ? After several dukes and markises had been enounced, a
very gentell fly drives up to our doar, and out steps two gentlemen.
One was pail, and wor spektickles, a wig, and a white neckclotlL
* This was written in 183S.
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW 339
The otlicr was slim with a hook nose, a pail fase, a small waist, a
pare of falling shoulders, a tight coat, and a catarack of l)lafk
satting tumbling out of his busm, and falling into a gilt velvet
weskit. The little genlmn settled his wigg, and pulled out his
ribbins ; the younger one fluffed the dust of his shoos, looked at his
wiskers in a little pockit-glas, settled his crevatt ; and they both
mounted upstairs.
"What name, sir?" says I, to the old genlmn.
"Name! — a! now, you thief 0' the wurrld," says he, "do you
pretind nat to know me 1 Say it's the Cabinet Cyclopa — no, I
mane the Litherary Chran — psha! — bluthanowns! — say it's Docthor
DiocLESiAN Larner — I think he'll know me now — ay, Nid?"
But the genlmn called Nid was at the botm of the stare, and pre-
tended to be very busy with his shoo-string. So the little genlmn
went upstares alone.
" Doctor Diolesius Larner ! " says I.
" Doctor Athanasius Lardner ! " says Greville Fitz-Eoy,
our secknd footman, on the fust landing-place.
" Doctor Ignatius SLoooIa ! " says the groom of the chambers,
who pretends to be a schoUar ; and in the little genlnm went.
When safely housed, the other chap came ; and when I asked him
his name, said, in a thick, gobbling kind of voice —
' ' Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig. "
" Sir what?" says I, quite agast at the name.
" Sawedwad — no, I mean il/?'s^a?cedwad Lyttn Bulwig."
My neas trembled under me, my i's fild with tiers, my voice
shook, as I past up \\\c venrabble name to tlie other footman, and
saw this fust of Englisli writers go up to the drawing-room !
It's needless to mention the names of the rest of tlie compny,
or to dixcribe the suckmstansies of the dinner. Suftiz to say that
the two littery genlmn behaved very well, and seamed to have
good appytights ; igspecially the little Irishman in the whig, who
et, drunk, and talked as much as \ a duzn. He told how he'd
been presented at cort by his friend, Mr. Bulwig, and how the
Quean had received 'em both, with a dignity undigscribable ; and
how her" blessid Majisty asked what was the bony fidy sale of the
Cabinit Cyclopsedy, and how he (Doctor Larner) told lier that, on
his honner, it was under ten thowsnd.
You may guess that tlie Doctor, v.hen he made this speach, was
pretty far gone. The fact is, that whether it was the coronation,
or the goodness of the wine (cappitle it is in our house, / can tell
you), or the natral propensaties of the gests assembled, wliich made
them so igspecially jolly, I don't know ; but they had kep up the
meating pretty late, and our poar butler was quite tired with the
340 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
perpechiial baskits of clarrit "which he'd been called upon to bring
up. So that about 11 o'clock, if I were to say they were merry, I
should use a mild term ; if I wer to say they were intawsicated, I
shovdd use an igspresshn more near to the truth, but less rispeckful
in one of my situashn.
The cumpany reseaved this annountsmint with mute extonish
ment.
" Pray, Doctor Lamder," says a spiteful genlmn, willing to keep
up the littery conversation, " what is the Cabinet Cyclopaedia 1 '
"It's the littherary wontherr of the wurrld," says he; "and
sure your Lordship must have seen it ; the latther numbers ispicially
— cheap as durrt, bound in gleezed calico, six shillings a vollum.
The illusthriovis ncems of Walther Scott, Thomas Moore, Docther
Southey, Sir James Mackintosh, Docther Donovan, and meself, are
to be found in the list of conthributors. It's the Phaynix of
Cyclopajies — a litherary Bacon."
" A what 1 " says the genlmn nex to him.
" A Bacon, shining in the darkness of our age ; fild wid the pure
end lambent flame of science, burning with the gorrgeous scin-
tillations of divine litherature — a monumintum in fact, are per-
innius, bound in ])ink calico, six shillings a vollum."
" This wigmawole," said Mr. Bulwig (who seemed rather dis-
gusted that his friend should take up so much of the convassation),
" this wigmawole is all vewy well ; but it's cuwious that you don't
wemember, in chawactewising the litewawy mewits of the various
magazines, cwonicles, we^-iews, and encyclopaedias, the existence of
a cwitical weviow and litowawy chwonicle, which, though the sewa
of its a]»iieawance is dated only at a vewy few months pwevious to
the pwesent pewiod, is, nevertheless, so wemarkable for its intwinsic
mewits as to be wead, not in the metwopolis alone, but in the
countwy — not in Fwance merely, but in the west of Euwope —
whewever our pure Wenglish is spoken, it stwetches its peaceful
sceptre — pewused in Ame^\^ca, fwom New York to Niagawa — we-
pwinted in Canada, from Montweal to Towonto — and, as I am
gwatified to hear fwom my fwend the governor of Cape Coast Castle,
wegularly weceived in Afwica, and twanslated into the Mandingo
language by the missiona\\'ies and the bushwangers. I need not
say, gentlemen — sir — that is, Mr. Speaker — I mean, Sir John —
that I allude to the Litewawy Cliwonicle, of which I have the
honour to be pwincipal contwibutor."
" Very true, my dear Mr. Bullwig," says my master : " you and
I being Whigs, must of course stand by our own friends ; and I will
agree, without a moment's hesitation, that the Literary wliat-d"ye-
call-'em is the prince of periodicals."
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW 341
"The Pwiuce of pewiodicals 1" says Bullwigj "my dear Sir
John, it's the empewow of the pwess."
"*S'o?V, — let it be the emperor of the press, as you poetically
call it : but, between ourselves, confess it,— Do not the Tory writ(;rs
beat your Whigs hollow? You talk about magazines. Look
at "
" Look at hwat 1 " shouts out Larder, " There's none, Sir Jan,
compared to ourrs."
"Pardon nie, I think that "
" It is ' Bcntley's Mislany ' you mane 1 " says Ignatius, as sharp
as a niddle.
"Why, no; but "
" thin, it's Co'burn, sure ; and that divvle Thayodor — a pretty
paper, sir, but light — thrashy, milk-and-wathery — not sthrong, like
the Litherary Cliran — good luck to it."
" Why, Doctor Larnder, I was going to tell at once the name of
the periodical, — it is Feaser's Mac4azine."
" Freser ! " says the Doctor, " thunder and turf ! "
" FwASER ! " says Bullwig, " — ah — hum — haw — yes — no-
why, — that is weally — no, weally, upon my weputation, I never
before heard the name of the pewiodical. By-the-bye, Sir John,
what wemarkable good clawet this is ; is it Lawose or Latf ? ''
Laft", indeed ! he cooden git beyond laff; and I'm blest if I could
kip it neither, — for hearing him pretend ignurnts, and being behind
the skreend, settlin sumthink for the genlmn, I bust into such a raw
of laffing as never was igseeded.
" Hullo ! " says Bullwig, turning red, " Have I said anything
impwobable, aw widiculous ? for, weally, I never befaw wecoUect to
have heard in society such a twemendous peal of cachinnation — that
which the twagic bard who fought at Mawathon has called an ane-
tvitkmon gelastJia."
" Why, be the holy piper," says Larder, " I think you are
dthrawing a little on your imagination. Not read Fraser I Don't
believe him,' my Lord Duke : he reads every word of it, the rogue !
Tiie boys about that magazine baste him as if he M'as a sack of oat-
male. My reason for crying out, Sir Jan, was because you mintioned
Fraser at all. Bullwig has every syllable of it be heart — from the
paillitix down to the ' Yellowplush Correspondence.' *
" Ha, ha ! " says Bullwig, affecting to latf (you may be sure
my years prickt up when I heard the name of the " Yellowplush
Correspondence"), " Ha, ha ! why, to tell twuth, I have wead the
cowespondence to which you allude : it's a gweat favowite at Court.
I was talking with Spwing Wice and Jolm Wussel about it tho
other day."
342 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
"Well, and what do you think of it?" says Sir John, looking
mity waggish — for he knew it was me who roat it.
"Why, weally and twnly, there's considewable cleverness about
the cweature ; but it's low, disgustingly low : it violates pwobability,
and the orthogwaphy is so carefully inaccuwate, that it requires a
positive study to compwehend it."
" Yes, faith," says Earner; " the arthagraphy is detestible ; it's
as bad for a man to write bad spillin as it is for 'em to speak wid a
brrogue. Iducation furst, and ganius afterwards. Your health, my
Lord, and good luck to you."
" Yaw wemark," says Bullwig, " is very appwopwiate. You
will wecollect, Sir John, in Hewodotus (as for you. Doctor, you
know more about Iwish than about Gweek), — you will wecollect,
without doubt, a stowy nawwated by tliat cwedulous though fasci-
nating chwonicler, of a certain kind of slieep which is known only in
a certain distwict of Awabia, and of whicli the tail is so enormous,
that it either dwaggles on tlie gwouiid, or is bound up by the
shepherds of the country into a small wheelbawwow, or cart, which
makes the chwonicler sneewingly wemark that thus ' the sheep of
Awabia have their own chawiots.' I have often thought, sir (this
clawet is weally nectaweous) — I have often, I say, thought that the
wace of man may be compawed to these Awabian sheep — genius is
our tail, education our wheelbawwow. Without art and education
to pwop it, this genius dwops on tlie gwoiind, and is polluted by the
mud, or injiu-ed by the wocks upon the way : with tlie wheelbawwov/
it is stwengthened, incweased, and supported — a pwide to the owner,
a blessing to mankind."
" A very appropriate simile," says Sir John ; " and I am afraid
that the genius of our friend Yellowplush has need of some such
support."
" A propos" said Bullwig, "who is Yellowplush ? I was given
to understand that the name was only a fictitious one, and that tlie
papers were written by the author of the ' Diary of a Physician ; '
if so, the man has wonderfidly improved in style, an<l there is some
hope of him."
" Bah ! " says the Duke of Doublejowl ; " everybody knows it's
Barnard, the celebrated author of ' Sani Slick.' "
" Pardon, my dear duke," says Lord Bagwig; "it's the authoress
of ' High Life,' ' Almack's,' and other fasnionabla novels."
" Fiddlestick's end ! " says Doctor Earner ; " don't be blushing
and pretinding to ask questions : don't we know you, Bullwig 1 It's
you yourself, you thief of the world : we smoked you from the very
beginning."
BuUwdg was about indignantly to reply, when Sir John inter-
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW 343
rupted them, and said, — " I must correct you all, gentlemen ; Mr.
Yellowplush is no other than Mr. Yellowjtlush : he gave you, my
dear Bulhvig, your last glass of champagne at dinner, and is novr an
inmate of my house, and an ornament of my kitchen ! "
" Gad ! " says Doublejowl, " let's have him up."
" Hear, hear ! " says Bagwig.
"Ah, now," says Larner, "your Grace is not going to call up
and talk to a footman, sure 1 Is it gintale 1 "
" To say the least of it," says Bulhvig, " tlie pwactice is iwwe-
gular, and indecowous ; and I weally don't see how tin; interview
can be in any way pwolitable."
But the vices of the company went against the two littery men,
and everybody excep them was for having up poor me. The bell
was wrung ; butler came. " Send up Charles," says master ; and
Charles, who was standing behind the skreand, was persnly abliged
to come in.
" Charles," says master, " I have been telling these gentlemen
who is the author of the 'Yellowiilush Correspondence' in Fraset^'s
Magazine."
" It's the best magazine in Europe," says the Duke.
" And no mistake," says my Lord.
" Hwhat ! " says Larner ; " and where's the Litherary Chran 1 "
I said myself nothink, but made a bough, and blusht like pickle-
cabbitch.
"Mr. Yellowplush," says his Grace, "will you, in the first place,
drink a glass of wine ? "
I boughed agin.
" And what wine do you prefer, sir, — humble port or imperial
burgundy 1 "
"Why, your Grace," says I, "I know my i)lace, and ain't above
kitchin wines. I will take a gkss of port, and drink it to the health
of this honrabble compny."
When I'd swigged off the bumper, which his Grace himself did
me the honour to jjour out for me, there was a silints for a minnit ;
when my master said : —
" Charles Yellowplush, I have i)erused your memoirs in Fraser's
Magazine with so much curiosity, and have so high an opinion of
your talents as a writer, that I really cannot keep you as a footman
any longer, or allow you to discharge duties for which you are now
quite unfit. With all my admiration for your talents, Mr. Yellow-
plush, I still am confident that many of your friends in the servants'
hall will clean my boots a great deal better than a gentleman of
your genius can ever be expected to do — it is for this purpose I
employ footmen, and not that they may be writing articles in maga-
344 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOAVPLUSH
zines. But — you need not look so red, my good fellow, and had
better take another glass of port — I don't wish to throw you upon
the wide world without the means of a livelihood, and have made
interest for a little plaee which you will have under Crovernmcnt,
and which will give you an income of eighty pounds per annum ;
which you can double, I presume, by your literary labours."
"Sir," says I, clasping my hands, and busting into tears, "do
not — for Heaven's sake, do not ! — think of any such think, or drive
rae from your suvvice, because I have been fool enough to write in
magaseens. Glans but one moment at your honour's plate — every
spoon is as bright as a mirror ; condysend to igsamine your shoes —
your honour may see reflected in thena the fases of every one in the
company. / blacked them shoes, / cleaned that there plate. If
occasionally I've forgot the footman in the litterary man, and com-
mitted to paper my reuiiudicouccs uf fashnabltle life, it Avas from a
sincere desire to do good, and promote noUitch : and I a])peal to
your honour, — I lay my hand on my busm, and in the fase of this
noble comi)any beg you to say. When you rung your bell, who came
to you fust 1 When you stopt out at Brooks's till morning, who sat
lip for you ? When you was ill, who forgot the natral dignities of
his station, and answered the two-pair bell? Oli, sir," says I, "I
know what's what ; don't send nie away. I know them littery
chaps, and, beleave me, I'd rather be a footman. The work's not so
hard — the pay is better: the vittels incompyrably supcaror. I have
but to clean my things, and run my errints, and you put clothes on
my back, and meat in my mouth. Sir! ]Mr. BuUwig ! ain't I rightl
shall I quit mi/ station and sink — that is to say, rise — to yours ? "
feullwig was violently affected ; a tear stood in his glistening i.
" Yellowj)lu.sh,"' says he, seizing my hand, " you are right. Quit
not your present occupation ; black boots, clean knives, wear i)lush
all your life, but don't turn literary n>an. Look at me. I am the
first novelist in Euroi)e. I have ranged with eagle wing over the
wide regions of literature, and perched on every eminence in its turn.
I have gazed with eagle eyes on the sun of jihilosojihy, and
fiithomed the mysterious depths of the liuinan mind. All languages
are familiar to me, all thoughts are known to me, all men under-
stood by me. I have gathered wisdom from the honeyed lips of
Plato, as we wandered in the gardens of Academes^wisdom, too,
from the mouth of Job Johnson, as we smoked our 'backy in Seven
Dials. Such nmst be the studies, and such is the mission, in this
world, of the Poet-Philosopher. But the knowledge is only empti-
ness ; the initiation is but misery; the initiated, a man shunne<l and
bann'd by his fellows. Oh," said Buliwig, clasping his hands,
and throwing his fine i's up to the chandelier, " the curse of
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW 345
Pwometheus descends upon his wace. Wath and punishment pursue
them from genewation to genewation ! Wo to genius, the heaven-
sealer, tlie fire-stealer ! Wo and thrice bitter desolation ! Earth is
the wock on which Zeus, wemorseless, stwetches his withing victim
■ — men, the vultures that feed and fatten on him. Ai, Ai ! it is
agony eternal — gwoaning and solitawy despair ! And you. Yellow-
plush, would penetwate these mystewies : you would waise the
awful veil, and stand in the twemendous Pwesence. Beware; as
you value your peace, beware ! Withdwaw, wash Neophyte I For
Heaven's sake — for Heaven's sake ! " — here he looked round with
agony — " give me a glass of bwandy-and- water, for tliis clawet is
beginning to disagwee with me."
BuUwig having concluded this sjjitch, very much to his own
sattasflu'kshn, lo(jked nnuid to the comjtny for ai)laws, and then
swigged off the glass of brandy-and-water, giving a solium sigh as
he took the last gulph ; and then Doctor Ignatius, who longed
for a chans, and, in order to show his independence, began flatly
contradicting his friend, addressed me, and the rest of the genlmn
present, in the following manner : —
"Hark ye," says he, "r.iy gossoon, doan't be led astliray by
the nonsinse of that divil of a Bullwig. He's jillous of ye, my bhoy :
that's the rale undoubted thinith ; and it's only to keep you out of
litherary life that he's palavering you in this way. I'll tell you
what — Plush, ye blackguard, — my honourable frind the miml)er
there has told me a bunder times by the smallest computation, of his
intense admiration of your talents, and the wonderful sthir they were
making in the world. He can't bear a rival. He's mad with envy,
hatred, oncharatableness. Look at him, Plush, and look at me. My
father was not a juke exactly, nor aven a markis, and see, neverthe-
liss, to what a pitch I am come. I spare no ixpinse ; I'm the iditor
of a cople of pariodicals ; I dthrive aliout in me carridge ; I dine wid
the lords of the land ; and why — in the name of the piper that pleed
before Mosus, hwy 1 Because I'm a litherary man. Because I know
how to play me cards. Because I'm Docther Lamer, in fact, and
mimber of every society in and out of Europe. I might have re-
mained all my life in Thrinity Colledge, and never made such an
incom as that offered you by Sir Jan ; but I came to London — to
London, my boy, and now see ! Look again at me friend Bullwig.
He is a gentleman, to be sure, ami bad luck to 'im, say I ; and
what has been the result of his litherary labour ? I'll tell you what ;
and I'll tell this gintale society, by the shade of Saint Patrick, they're
going to make him a baeinet ! "
" A BAENET, Doctor ! " says I ; " you don't mean to say they're
going to make him a barnet ! "
346 MEMOIRS OF ME, C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
" As sure as I've made meself a docthor," says Lamer.
" What, a baronet, like Sir John ? "
"The divlea bit else."
" And pray what for ? "
"What faw?" says Bullwig. "Ask the histowy of litwatuwe
what faw? Ask Colbiirn, ask Bentley, ask Saunders and Otley,
ask the gTA-eat Bwitisli nation, what law 1 The blood in my veins
comes puwificd thwough ten thousand years of chivalwous ancestwy ;
but that is neither here nor there : my political pwinciples — the
equal wights which I have advocated — the gweat cause of fweedom
that I have celebwated, are knoA\ni to all. But this, I confess, has
nothing to do with the question. No, the question is this — on the
thwone of litewature I stand unwivalled, pwe-eminent ; and the
Bwitish government, honowing genius in me, compliments the
Bwitish nation by lifting into the bosom of the heweditawy nobility
the most gifted member of the democwacy." (The honrabble
genlmn here sunk down amidst repeated cheers.)
"Sir John," says I, "and my Lord Duke, the words of my
rivrint frend Ignatius, and the remarks of the honrabble genlmn
who has just sate down, have made me change the detummination
which I had the honor of igspressing just now.
" I igscpt the eighty pound a year ; knowing that I shall have
plenty of time for pursuing my littery career, and hoping some day
to set on that same bentcli of barranites, which is deckarated by
the presnts of my honrabble friend.
" Why shooden I ? It's trew I ain't done anythink as i/et to
deserve such an honour ; and it's very probable that I never shall.
But Avhat then ? — tpiaw dong, as our friends say ? I'd much raytlier
have a eoat-ot-arms than a coat of livry. I'd much rayther have
my blud-red hand spralink in the middle of a shield, than under-
neatli a tea-tray. A barrauit I will be ; and, in consiquints, must
cease to be a footmin.
" As to my politticle princepills, these, I confess, ain't settled :
they are, I know, necessary ; but they ain't necessarj'' until askt
for; besides, I reglar read the Sattarist newspaper, and so igni-
rince on this pint would be iuigscusable.
" But if one man can git to be a doctor, and another a barranit,
and another a capting in the navy, and another a countess, and
another the wife of a governor of the Cape of Good Hope, I begin
to perseave that the littery trade ain't such a very bad un : igspe-
cially if you're up to snough, and know what's o'clock. Ill learn
to make myself usefle, in the fust place ; then I'll lam to spell ;
and, I trust, by reading the novvles of the honrabble member,
and the scientafick treatiseses of the reverend doctor, I may 'find
MR. YELLOWPLUSH'S AJEW 347
the secrit of suxess, and git a litell for my own share. I've sevral
frends in the press, having paid for many of those cliai)s' drink, and
given them other treets ; and so I think I've got all the emileuts
of siixess ; therefore, I am detummined, as I said, to igsept your
kind offer, and beg to ■withdraw the wuds which I made yous of
wdien I refyoused your hoxj)atable offer. I must, however "
"I wish you'd withdraw yourself" said Sir John, bursting into
a most igstrorinary rage, "and not interrupt the company with
your infernal talk ! Go down, and get us coffee : and, heark ye .'
hold your impertinent tongue, or I'll break every bone in your
body. You shall have the place as I said ; and while you're in
my service, you shall 1)6 my servant ; but you don't stay in my
service after to-morrow. Go downstairs, sir; and don't stand
staring here ! "
^o
In this al)rupt way, my evening ended : it's with a melancholy
regret that I think what came of it. I don't wear plush any
more. I am an altered, a wiser, and, I trust, a better man.
I'm about a novvle (having made gi-eat pro.giiss in spelling), in
the style of my friend BuUwig ; and preparing for ])ubligation, in
the Doctor's Cyclopedear, "The Lives of Eminent Brittish and
Foring Wosherwomen."
SKIMMINGS FROM ''THE DAIRY
OF GEORGE IV."
Charles Yellowplush, Esq., to Oliver Yorke, Esq.*
DEAR WHY, — Trtkin advantage of the Crismiss holydays, Sir
John and nie (who is a member of parlyment) had gone
down to onr place in York.sliire for six wicks, to shoot grows
and "woodcox, and enjoy old English hospitalaty. This ugly Canady
bisniss unlnckaly put an end to our sports in the country, and brot
us up to Buckly Ssiuare as fast as four i)Osterses could gallip.
When there, I found your parcel, containing the two vollumes of a
new book ; witch, as I have been away from the literary world, and
emplied solely in athlatic exorcises, have been laying neglected in
my pantry, among my knife-cloaths, and dekanters, and blacking-
bottles, and bedroom candles, and things.
This will, I'm sure, account for my delay in notussing the
w'ork. I see sefral of the ]iapers and magazcens have been befoar-
hand with me, and have given their apinions concerning it : specially
the Quothj Kevew, which has most mussilessly cut to peases the
author of this Dairy of the Times of George /r.f
That it's a woman who Avrotc it is evydent from the style of the
writing, as well as from certain proofs in the book itself. Most
suttnly a femail wrote this Dairy ; but who this Dairy-maid may
be, I, in coarse, can't coujccter : and indeed, common galliantry
forbids me to ask. I can only judge of the book itself; which, it
appears to me, is clearly trenching upon my ground anil favrite
* These Memoirs were originally published in Fraser's Magazine, and it may
be stated for the benefit of the unlearned in such matters that " Oliver Yorke"
is the assumed name of the editor of that periodical.
t Diary illustrative of the Times of George the Fourth, interspersed with
Original Lettei's from the late Queen Caroline, and from various other distin-
guished Persons.
" Tot ou tard, tout se s^ait." — Maixtenon.
In 2 vols. Loudou, 1S3S. Ueury Colburn,
THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. 349
subjicks, viz. fashuabble life, as igsibited in the houses of the
nobility, gentry, and rile fammly.
But I bare no mallis — infamation is infamation, and it doesn't
matter where the infamy comes fi'om ; and whether the Dairy be
from that distinguished pen to witch it is ornarily attributed —
whether, I say, it comes from a lady of honour to the late Quean,
or a scullion to that diflfunct majisty, no matter : all we ask is
nollidge ; never mind how we have it. NoUidge, as our cook says,
is like trikel-possit — it's always good, though you was to drink it
out of an old shoo.
Well, then, although this Dairy is likely searusly to injur my
pussonal intrests, by fourstalling a deal of what I had to say in my
private memoars — though many many guineas is taken from my
pockit, by cuttin short the tail of my narratif — though much that I
had to say in souperior languidge, greased with all the ellygance of
my orytory, the benefick of my classcle reading, the chawms of my
agreble wit, is thus abruply brot befor the world by an inferior
genus, neither knowing nor writing English ; yet I say, that
nevertheless I must say, what I am puffickly prepaired to say, to
gainsay which no man can say a word— yet I say, that I say I
consider this publication welkom. Far from viewing it with enfy,
I greet it with applaws ; because it increases that most exlent
specious of nollidge, I mean " Fashnabble Nollidge : " compayred
to witch all other nolli(]ge is nonsince — a bag of goold to a pare of
snuffers.
Could Lord Broom, on the Canady question, say moar? or say
what he had tu say better? We are marters, both of us, to
jjrinsple ; and everybody who knows eather knows that we would
sacrafice anythink rather tlian that. Fashion is the goddiss I adoar.
This delightful work is an otfring on her srine ; and as sich all
her -R^jshippers are bound to hail it. Here is not a question of
trumpry lords and honrabbles, generals and barronites, but the
crown itself, and the king and queen's actions ; witch may be con-
sidered as the crown jewels. Here's princes, and grand-<lukes, and
airsparent, and Heaven knows what ; all with blood-royal in their
veins, and their names mentioned in the very fust page of the
peeridge. In this book you become so intmate with the Prince
of Wales, that you may follow him, if you please, to his marridge-
bed ; or, if you prefer the Princiss Chariotte, you may have with
her an hour's tator-tator.*
Now, though most of the remarkable extrax from this book
have been given already (the cream of the Dairy, as I wittily say),
* Our estimable correspondent means, -n-o presume, feic-u-'Ste. — 0. Y.
350 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
1 shall trouble you, nevertheless, with a few ; partly because they
can't be repeated too often, and because the toan of obsyration
with which they have been genrally received by the press, is not
igsackly such as I think they merit. How, indeed, can these
common magaseen and newspaper pipple know anythink of fash-
nabble life, let alone ryal ?
Conseaving, then, that tlie publication of the Dairy has done reel
good on this scoar, and may probly do a deal moor, I shall look
through it, for the porpus of selecting the most ellygant passidges, and
which I think may be peculiarly adapted to the reader's benefick.
For you see, my dear Mr. Yorke, in the fust place, that this is
no common catchpny book, like that of most authors and authoresses
who write for the base looker of gain. Heaven bless you ! the Dairy-
maid is above anything musnary. She is a woman of rank, and no
mistake ; and is as much above tloin a common or vulgar action as
I am superaor to taking beer after dinner with my cheese. She
proves that most satisfackarily, as we see in the following passidge : —
"Her Royal Highness came to me, and having spoken a few
phrases on different subjects, produced all the papers she wishes
to have i)ublis]i(>d : her whole correspondence with the Prince
relative to Lady J- -'s dismissal ; liis subsequent neglect of the
Princess; and, finally, the ac(iuittal of her supposed guilt, signed
by the Duke of Portland, «S:c., at the time of the secret inquiry :
when, if proof could have been brought against her, it certainly
would have been done ; and which acquittal, to the disgrace of all
parties concerned, as well as to the justice of the nation in general,
was not made public at the time. A common criminal is publicly
condemned or actjuittod. Her Royal Highness conunanded me to
have these letters i)ul)lislu'(l forthwith, saying, 'You may sell them
for a great sum.' At first (for slie had spoken to me before con-
cerning this business), I thnuglit of availing myself of the oppor-
tunity ; but, upon second tlu)uglits, I turned from this idea witli
detestation : for, if I do wrong by obeying her wishes and endeavour-
ing to serve her, I will do so at least from good and disinterestetl
motives, not from any sordid views. The Princess connnands me,
and I will obey her, whatever may be the issue ; but not for fare
or fee. I own I tremble, not so much for myself, as for the idea
that she is not taking the best and most dignified way of having
these papers published. Why make a secret of it at all ? If
wrong, it should not be done ; if right, it should be done openly,
and in the face of her enemies. In Her Royal Highness's case, as
in that of wronged princes in general, why do they shrink from
straiglitforward dealings, and rather have recourse to crooked policy?
THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. 351
I wish, ill this particular instance, I could make Her Royal Highness
feel thus : but she is naturally indignant at being fafsely accused,
and will not condescend to an avowed explanation."
Can anythink be more just and honrabble than this? The
Dairy-lady is quite fair and abovebored. A clear stage, says she,
and no foviour ! "I won't do behind my back what I am ashamed
of before my face : not I ! " No more she does ; for you see that,
though she was offered this many scrip by the Princess for nothink,
though she knew that she could actially get for it a large sum of
money, she was above it, like an honest, nol)le, grateful, foshnabble
woman, as she was. She aboars secrecy, and never will have recors
to disguise or crookid polacy. Tliis ought to be an ansure to them
Radicle sneerers, who pretend that they are the equals of fashnabble
pepple ; whereas it's a well-known fact, that the vulgar roagues have
no notion of honour.
And after this positif declaration, which reflex honor on her
Ladyship (long life to her ! V\e often waited behind her chair !) —
after this positif declaration, that, even for the porpus of defendlmj
her missis, she was so hi-minded as to refuse anythink like a pecu-
liarly consideration, it is actially asserted in the public prints by a
booxeller, that he has given lier a thousand poimd for the Dairy.
A thousand pound ! nonsince ! — it's a phigment ! a base lible ! This
woman take a thousand pound, in a matter wliere her dear mistriss,
friend, and benyfoctriss was concerned ! Never ! A thousand bag-
gonits would be more prefrabble to a woman of her xqizzit feelins
and fashion.
But to proseed. It's been objected to me, when I wrote some
of my expearunces in fashnabble life, that my languidge was occa-
sionally vulgar, and not such as is generally used in those exquizzit
famlies which I frequent. Now, I'll lay a wager tliat there is in
this book, wrote as all the world knows by a rele lady, and speakin
of kings and queens as if they were as common as sand-boys — there
is in this book more wulgarity than ever I displayed, more nastiness
tlian ever I would dare to think on, and more bad* grammar than
ever I wrote since I was a boy at school. As for autJKigrafy, cvry
genlmn has his own : never mind spellin, I say, so long as the sence
is right.
Let me here quot a letter from a corryspondent of this charming
lady of honour ; and a very nice corrysjiondent he is, too, without
any mistake : —
"Lady , poor Lady ! knows the rules of ])nidcnce.
I fear me, as imperfectly as she doth those of the Greek and Latin
4
352 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Grammars : or she hath let her brother, who is a sad swine, become
master of her secrets, and then contrived to quarrel with liim.
You would see the outline of the melange in the newspapers ; but
not the report that Mr. S is about to publish a pamphlet, as
an addition to the Harleian Tracts, setting forth the amatory adven-
tures of his'sister. "We shall break our necks in haste to buy it, of
course crying ' Shameful ' all the while : and it is said that Lady
■ is to be cut, which I cannot entirely believe. Let her tell
two or three old women about town tliat they are young and hand-
some, and give some well-timed parties, and she may still keep the
society which she liath been used to. The times are not so hard as
they once were, when a woman could not construe Magna Charta
with anything like impunity. People were full as gallant many
years ago. But the days are gone by wherein my lord-protector of
the commonwealtli of England was wont to go a love-making to Mrs.
Fleetwood, with the Bible under his ann.
" And so Miss Jacky Gordon is really clothed with a husband
at last, and Miss Laura Manners left without a mate ! She and
Lord Stair should marrv and have children, in mere revengfe. As
to Miss Gordon, she's a Venus well suited for such a Vulcan, —
whom nothing but money and a title could have rendered tolerable,
even to a kitchen wench. It is said that tlie matrimonial corre-
spondence between tliis couple is to be pubUslied, full of sad scan-
dalous relations, of whieli you may be sure scarcely a word is true.
lu former times, the Duchess of St. A s made use of these
elegant epistles in order to intimidate Lady Johnstone : but that
ruse would not avail ; so in sjiite, tliey are to be printed. What a
cargo of amiable creatures ! Yet will some people scarcely believe
in the existence of Pandemonium.
" Tuesday Morning. — You are perfectly right respecting the
hot rooms here, which we all cry out against, and all find very
comfortable — much more so than the cold sands and bleak neigh-
bourhood of the sea; which looks vastly well in one of Van der
Velde's pictures himg upon crimson damask, but hideous anrl shock-
ing in reality. *H and his ' eUe' (talking of parties) were last
night at Cholmondeley House, but seem not to ripen in their love.
He is certainly good-humoiu"ed, and, I believe, good-hearted, so
deserves a good wife ; but his cara seems a genuine London miss,
made up of many affectations. Will she form a comfortable help-
mate? For me, I like not her origin, and deem many strange
things to run in blood, besides madness and the Hanoverian evil.
" Thursdm/. — I verily do believe that I shall never get to the
end of this small sheet of paper, so many unh.eard-of interruptions
have I had ; and now I have been to Vauxliall, and cauglit the
THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. 353
toothache. I was of Lady E. B m and H 's party: \ery
didl — the Lady giving us all a supper after our promenade —
• ' Much ado was there, God wot
She would love, but he would not'
He ate a great deal of ice, although he did not seem to require it ;
and she ^faisoit les yeux doux^ enough not only to have melted
all the ice which he swallowed, but his own hard heart into the
bargain. The thing will not do. In the meantime, Miss Long
hath become quite cruel to Wellesley Pole, and divides lier favour
equally between Lords Killeen and Kilworth, two as simple Irish-
men as ever gave birth to a bull. I wish to Hymen that she were
fairly married, for all this pother gives one a disgusting picture of
human nature."
A dLsgusting jictur of human nature, indeed — and isn't he who
moralises about it, and she to wliom he wTites, a couple of pretty
heads in the same piece ? Which, Mr. Yorke, is the wust, the
scandle or the scanrlle-mongers ? See what it is to be a moral man
of fashn. Fust, he scrapes togither all the bad stoaries about all
the people of lii.s acquentance — he goes to a ball, and laffs or snears
at everybody there — he is asked to a dinner, and brings away,
along with meat and wine to his heart's content, a sour stomick
filled wdth nasty stories of all the people present there. He has
such a squeamish appytite, that all the world seems to disafjree
with him. And what has he got to say to his dellicate female
frend ? Why that-
Fast Mr. S. is going to publish indescent stoaries about Lady
, his sister, which everybody '-s goin to by.
Nex. That Miss Gordon is going to be cloathed wuth an usband ;
and that all their matrimonial corryspondins is to be published too.
3. That Lord H. is going to be married : but there's sometliing
rong in his wife's blood.
4. Miss Long has cut !Mr. Wellesley, and is gone after two
Irish lords.
Wooden you phancy, now, tliat the author of such a letter,
instead of wi-itin about pipple of tip-tojt qualaty, was describin
Vinegar Yard? Would you beleave tliat the lady he was a-ritin
to was a chased, modist lad}' of honour, and mother of a famly ?
trumpery ! morris ! as Homer says : this is a higeous j.ictur
of manners, such as I weap to think of, as evry morl man must
weap.
The above is one pritty pictur of mearly fashuabble life : what
follows is about fimilies even higher situated than the most fash-
2 D
354 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLITSH
iiabble. Here we have the Princessregient, her daughter the
Princess Sharlot, her graudmamma the old Quean, and Her ]\Iad-
jisty's daughters the two princesses. If this is not liigh life, I
don't know where it is to be found ; and it's jjleasiug to see wfiat
att'eckshn and harmny rains in such an exolted spear,
" Sunday 2Uh. — Yesterday the Princess went to meet the Prin-
cess Charlotte at Kensington. Lady • told me that, when
the latter arrived, she rashed up to her mother, and said, 'For
Clod's sake, be civil to her/ meaning the Duchess of Leeds, who
followed her. Lsidy said she felt sorry for the latter; but
when the Princess of AVales talked to her, she soon became so free
and easy, that one coidd not have any feelinrf al)out licr feelings.
Princess Charlotte, I was told, wa.s looking handsome, very pale,
but her heatl more becomingly dressed — that is to say, less dressed
than usiuil. Her figure is of that full round shape which is now iu
its ]u"imc ; but she disfigiu'es herself by wearing her bodice so short,
that she literally has no waist. Her feet ai'c very pretty ; and so
are her hands and arms, and her ears, and the shape of her head.
Her countenance is expressive, when she allows her passions to
pla.y upon it : and I never saw any face, with so little shade,
express so many ])owerful and varied emotions. Lady told
me tliat the Princess Charlotte talked to her abtnit her situation,
and said, in a veiy quiet, l)ut dt'tcrmined way, she }''OuhI not hear
it, and that as soon as Parliament met, she intended to come to
Warwick House, and remain there ; tluit she was also determined
not to consider the Duchess of Leeds as her r/overness, but only as
her Jirst lady. She mads many observations on other j)ersons
and subjects ; and appears to be very quick, very jjenetrating, but
inijierions and wilful. There is a t.one of romance, too, in her
chamcter, whicli will mdy serve io mislead her.
" She told her mother that there had been a gi'eat battle at
Windsor between the Queen and the Prince, the fonner refusing to
give up Miss Knight from her own pei-son to attend on Princess
Charlotte as sub-governess. But the Prince-Regent had gone to
WiinLsor himself, and insisted on her doing so; and the 'old
Beguin ' was forced to submit, but has been ill ever since ; and Sir
Hemy Halford declared it was a complete breaking up of her con-
stitution -to the great delight of the two princesses, wlio were
talking about tliis atlair, ^liss Knight was the very person they
wished to luive ; they think they can do as they like with her. It
has been ordered tliat tlie Princess Cliarlottc should not see her
mother alone for a single moment ; Init the latter went into her
room, stuffed a pair of large shoes full of pajjers, and having given
THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. 355
them to lier daughter, she went home. Lady tokl me every-
thing was written down and .sent to Mr. Brougham next day.''
See M'hat discord will creap even into the best regulated famlies.
Here are six of 'em — viz., the Quean and her two daughters, her
son, and his wife and daugliter ; and tlie manner in which they hate
oiiQ another is a comi^leat jiuzzle.
r his mother.
The Prince hates .... - his wife.
[ his daughter.
Princess Charlotte hates her father.
Princess of Wales hates her husband.
The old Quean, by their squobbles, is on the pint of death ; and
her two jewtiful daughters are delighted at the news. What a
happy, faslmabble, Christian famly ! Mr. Yorke, Mr. Yorke, if
this is the way in the drawin-rooms, I'm quite content to live lielow,
in pease and <'haraty with all men ; writin, as I am now, in my
l^antry, or els havin a quite game at cards in the servants-all. With
us there's no bitter wicked quarliug of this sort. We don't hate
our children, or bully our mothers, or wish 'em ded when they're
sick, as this Dairy-woman says kings and queens do. Wieu we'i'e
writing to our friends or .sweethearts, we don't fill our letters with
nasty .stoaries, takin away the carricter of our fellow-servants, as
this maid of honour's amusiu' moral frend does. But, in coarse, it's
not for us to judge of our betters ; — these gi-eat people are a supeerur
race, and we can't comprehend their ways.
Do you recklect — it's twenty years ago now — how a bewtiflfle
princess died in givin buth to a poar baby, and how the whole
nation of Hengland wep, as though it was one man, over that sweet
woman and child, in which were sentered the hopes of every one of
us, and of which each was as proud as of his own wife or infut?
Do you recklet how pore fellows spent their last shillin to buy a
black crape for their liats, and clergymen cried in the pulpit, and
the v/hole country through was no better than a great dismal fmieral 1
Do you recklect, Mr. Yorke, who was the person that we all took
on so about 1 We called her the Princis Sharlot of Wales ; and we
valyoud a single drop of her blood more than the whole heartless
body of her father. Well, we looked up to her as a kind of saint
or angle, and blest God (such foolish loyal English pipple as we
w^are in those days) who had sent this sweet lady to rule over us.
But Heaven bless you I it was only souperstition. She was no
better than she should b.e, as it tiurns out— or at least the Dairy-
356 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
maid says so. No better ? — if my daughters or yours was ^ so bad,
we'd as leaf be dead oiu-selves, and they hanged. But listen to this
pritty charritable story, and a truce to reflexshuns : —
'^Sunday, January 9, 1814. — Yesterday, according to appoint-
ment, I went to Princess Charlotte. Found at Warwick House
the harp-i)layer, Dizzi ; was asked to remain and listen to his per-
formance, but was talked to during the whole time, which completely
prevented all possibility of listening to the music. The Duchess
of Leeds and her daughter were in the room, but left it soon. Xext
arrived Miss Knight, who remained all the time I was there.
Princess Charlotte was very gnicious — showed me all her bonny
dyes, as B would have called them — pictures, and cases, and
jewels, &c. She talked in a very desultory way, and it would be
difficult to say of what. She observed her mother was in very low
spirits. I asked her how she supposed she could be otherwise?
This questioning answer saves a great deal of trouble, and serves
two ijurposes — i.e. avoids committing oneself, or giving ottence by
silence. There was hung in the apartment one portrait, amongst
others, that very much resembled the Duke of D . I asked
Miss Knight whom it represented. She said tliat was not known ;
it had been 6upi)osed a likeness of the Pretender, when young.
This answer suited my thoughts so comically I could have laughed,
if one ever did at Coiu-ts anything but the contrary of what one was
inclined to do.
'' Princess Charlotte has a very great variety of expression in
her countenance — a play of features, and a force of muscle, rarely
seen in connection with such soft and shadeless colouring. Her
hands and arms arc beautiful ; but I tliink her figure is already
gone, and will soon be precisely like her mother's : in short it is
the very picture of her, and not in miniature. I could not help
analysing my own sensations during the time I was with her, and
thought more of tliem than I did of her. Why was I at all flattered,
at all more amused, at all more supple to this young princess, than
to her who is only the same sort of person set in the shade of
circumstances and of yciirs ] It is that youth, and the approach
of power, and tlie latent views of self-interest, sway the heart and
dazzle the understanding. If this is so witli a heart not, I trust,
corrupt, and a head not particularly formed for interested calcula-
tions, what effect nuist not the same causes produce on the generality
of mankind 1
"■ In the course of the conversation, tlie Princess Charlotte con-
trived to edge in a good deal of tuw-dc-dy. an<l would, if I had
entered into the thing, liavc gone on with it, while looking at a little
THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. 357
picture of herself, which had about thirty or forty different dresses
to put over it, done on ■isinr/lass, and which allowed tlie general
colouring of the picture to be seen through its transparency. It
was, I thought, a pretty enough conceit, though rather like dressing
up a doll. ' Ah ! ' said Miss Kniglit, ' I am not content though,
madame — for I yet should have liked one more dress — that of tlie
favourite Sultana.'
"'No, no!' said the Princess, *I never was a favourite, and
never can be one ' — hooking at a i)icture Avhich she said was her
father's, but which I do not believe was done for the Regent any
more than for me, but represented a young man in a hussar's dress
— probably a former favourite.
"The Princess Charlotte seemed much hurt at the little notice
that was taken of her birtliday. After keeping me for two hours
and a half she dismissed me ; and I am sure I could not say what
she said, except that it was an olio of decousus and heterogeneous
things, partaking of the characteristics of her mother grafted on a
younger scion. I dined tete-a-tete with my dear old aunt : hers is
always a sweet and soothing society to me."
There's a i)leasing, laily-like, moral extract for you! An
innocent young thing of fifteen has picturs of tivo lovers in her
room, and expex a good number more. This dellygate young
creature echjes in a good «leal of tumdedy (I can't find it in
Johnson's Dixonary), and would have gone on tvith the thing (elly-
gence of langiaidge), if the dairy-lady would have let her.
Now, to tell you the truth, Mr. Yc^rke, I doan't beleave a single
syllil^le of this story. This lady of honner says, in the fust place,
tiiat the Princess woidd have talked a good deal of tumdedy : Avhich
means, I suppose, indeasnsy, if slie, the lady of honner, wonld have let
her. This is a good one ! Wliy, she lets everybody else talk tumdedy
to their hearts' content ; she lets her friends ivrife tumdedy, and,
after keeping it for a quarter of a sentry, she prints it. Why then
be so S(]ueamish about hearing a little ! And, tlien, there's the
stoary of tlie two portricks. This woman has the honner to be
received in the frendlyest manner by a British princess ; and what
does the grateful loyal creature dol 2 picturs of the Princess's
relations are hanging in her room, and the Dairy-M'oman swears
away the poor young Princess's camckter, by swearing they are
I)icturs of her lovers. For shame, oh, for shame ! you slanderin
backbitin dairy-woman you ! If you told all them things to your
" dear old aunt," on going to dine with her, you must have had
very " sweet and soothing society " indeed.
I liad marked out many more extrax, which I intended to write
358 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
about ; luit I think I have said enough alwut this Dairy : in fack,
the butler, and the gals in the servants'-hall are not well pleased
that I should go on reading this naughty book ; so we'll have no
more of it, only one passidge about Pollji^ics, -witch is sertnly
quite new : —
"No one was so likely to be able to defeat Bonaparte as the
Crown Prince, from the intimate knowledge lie jjossessed of his
character. Bernadotte was also instigated against Bonaparte by
one who not only owed him a personal hatred, but who possessed a
mind equal to his, and who gave the Cro"\^Ti Prince both information
and advice how to act. This was no less a j>ers(jn than Madame de
Stael. It was not, as some have asserted, that she was in love
with Bernadotte ; for, at the time of their intimacy, Jfadaine de
Stael was in love with Rocca. But she used her influence (which
was not small) with the Crown Prince, to make him fight against
Bonaparte, and to her wisdom may be attributed much of the success
whicli aceom])anied his attack upon him. Bernadotte luis raised
the flame of liberty, which seems fortunately to blaze all around.
May it liberate Europe ; and from the ashes of the laurel may olive
branches spring up, and overshadow the earth ! "
There's a discuvery ! that the overthrow of Boneyjiart is owing
to Madame de Stael ! What nonsince for Colonel Southcy or
Doctor Xajtier to write histories of the war with that Capsicau
hupstart and murderer, when lnTe we have the whole attair explaned
by the lady of honour !
"Sunday, April 10, 1814. — The incidents which take place
every hour are miracuhnis. Bonaparte is deposed, but alive ; sub-
dued, but allowed to choose his j>lace of residence. The island of
Elba is the sjxit he has selected for his ignominious retreat. France
is holding forth repentant arms to her banished sovereign. The
Poissardes who dragged Louis XVI. to the scafi'old are presenting
flowers to the Emjieror of Russia, the restorer of their legitimate king !
What a stupendous field for philosophy to expatiate in ! What an
endless material for thought ! What humiliation to the pride of
mere human greatness ! How are the mighty fallen ! Of all that
was great in Napoleon, what remains ? Despoiled of his usun)ed
power, he sinks to insignificance. There was no moral gre^itness in
the man. The meteor dazzled, scorched, is put out — utterly, and
for ever. But the power which rests in those who have delivered
the nations from bondage, is a jiower that is delegated to them from
Heaven ; and the manner in which tliey have used it is a guai'uutee
THE DAIRY OF GEORGE IV. 359
for its contiuiuince. The Duke of Wellington has giiined lam-els un-
stained by any useless flow of blood. He has done more than conquer
others — he has conquered himself : and in the midst of the l)laze and
flush of victory, surrounded by the homage of nations, he has not
been betrayed into the commission of any act of cruelty or "wanton
offence. He was as cool and self-possessed under the blaze antl dazzle
of fiime as a common man would be under the shade of his garden-
tree, or by the hearth of his home. But the tyrant Avho kept Eur<ipe
in awe is now a pitiable object for scorn to point the finger of derision
at : and humanity shudders as it remembers the scourge with which
this man's ambition was permitted to devastate every home tie, and
every heartfelt joy."
And now, after this sublime passidge, as fun 01 aAvtte reflections
and pious sentjTnents as those of Mrs. Cole in the play, I shall only
quot one little extrak more : —
" All goes gloomily with the poor Princess. Lady Charlotte
Campl)ell told me she regrets not seeing all these curious personages ;
but she says, the more the Princess is forsaken, the more happy she
is at having oftered to attend her at this time. This is verij ami-
able in Aer, and cannot fail to be gratifying to the Princess."
So it is — wery amiable, w^ery kind and considerate in her, indeed.
Poor Princess ! how lucky you was to find a frend who loved you
for your ovm sake, and when all the rest of the wuld turned its Ijack
kep steady to you. As for believhig that Lady Siiarlot had any
hand in tliis book,* Heaven forbid ! she is all gratitude, pure grati-
tude, depend upon it. She would not go for to blacken her old frend
and patron's carrickter, after having been so outrageously faithful to
her ; she wouldn't do it, at no price, depend upon it. How sorry
she must be that others an't quite so squemish, and show up in this
indesent way the follies of her kind, genrus, foolish bennyfactris !
* The "authorised" announcement, in the John Bull newspaper, sets this
question at rest. It is declared that her Ladyship is not the writer of the
Diary.— 0. Y.
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI
Ch-s Y-ll-wpl-sh, Esq., to Sir Edwaed Lytton Bulwer, Bt.
Jonx Thomas Smith, Esq., to C — s Y h, Esq.
NOTUS
THE suckmstansies of the following harticle are as folios : — Me
and my friend, the sellabrated "Mr. Smith, reckonised each
other in the Hayniarket Theatre, diirint: the performints of
the new jtlay. I was settn in the gallery, and sung out to him
(he was in the pit), to jine us after the play, over a glass of bear
and a cold hoyster, in my pantry, the family being out.
Smith came as apjtinted. We descorsed on tiie subjick of the
comady ; and, after sefral glases, we each of us agreed to write a
letter to the other, giving our notiums of the pease. Paper w;is
brouLrht that niomint : and Smith writing his harticle across the
knife-bord, I d;i.sht off mine on tiie dresser.
Our agreement was, that I (being remarkabble for my style of
riting) should cretasize the languidge, whilst he should take up
with the plot of the play ; and the candied reader will parding
me for having lujltered the original address of my letter, and
directed it to Sir Edward himself; and for having incopperated
Smith's remarks iu the midst of my own : — •
Mayfair: Nov. 30, 1839. Midnite.
HoxRABBLE Barxet ! — Retired from the littery world a year
or moar, I didn't tliink anythink would injuice me to come forrards
again ; for I was content with my share of reputation, and ])ropoas'd
to add nothink to those immortial wux which have rendered this
IMagaseen so sallybrated.
Shall I tell you the reazn of my re-appearants ? — a desire for
the benefick of my fellow-creatures] Fiddlestick! A mighty
truth Anth which my busm laboured, and which I must bring fortli
or die? Nonsince — stuff: money's the secret, my dear Barnet, — •
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 361
money — Vargong, gelt, sjncunia. Here's quarter-day comin.s;, and
I'm blest if I can pay my landlud, unless I can ad hartificially to
my inkum.
This is, however, betwigst you and me. There's no need to
blacard the streets \yith it, or to tell the British i>ul)lic that Fitzroy
Y-11-wpl-sh is short of money, or that the sally brated liauthor of
the Y Papers is in peskewiiary diffieklties, or is fiteagued by
his superhuman littery labors, or by his fandy suckmstansies, or by any
other pusnal matter : my maxim, dear B, is on these pints to be as
quiet as posbile. AVhat the juice does the public care for you or me ?
Why must we always, in prefizzes and what not, be a-talking about
ourselves and our igstrodnary merrats, woas, and injaries 1 It is on
this subjick that I porpies, my dear Barnet, to speak to you in a
frendly way ; and prai)s you'll find my advise tolrabbly holesum.
Well, then, — if you care about the apinions, fur good or evil,
of us poor suvvants, I tell you, in the most candied way, I like
you, Barnet. I've had my fling at you in my day (for, entn/ nou,
that last stoary I roat about you and Larnder was as big a bownsir
as ever was) — I've had my fling at you ; biit I like you. One may
objeck to an immence deal of your A^Titings, Avhich, betwigst you
and me, contain more sham scentiment, sham morallaty, sham
poatry, than you'd like to own ; but, in spite of this, there's the
stuffiw you : you've a kind and loyal heart in you, Barnet — a trifle
deboshed, perhaps ; a kean i, igspecially for what's comic (as for
yoiu- tradgady, it's mighty flatchulont), and a ready plesnt pen.
The man who says you are an As is an As himself. Don't believe
him, Barnet ! not that I supi)Ose you wil, — for, if I've fornie<l a
correck apinion of you from yovu' wucks, you think your small-
beear as good as most men's : every man does, — and why not %
We brew, and we love our own tap — amen ; but the pint betwigst
us, is this stewpid, absudd way of crying out, because the pul)lic
don't like it too. AVliy shood they, my dear Barnet ? You may
vow that they are fools ; or tliat the critix are your enemies ; or
that the wuld should judge your poams by your critticle rules, and
not their own : you may beat your breast, and vow you are a
marter, and you won't mend the matter. Take heart, man ! you're
not so misrabble after all : your spirits need not be so very cast
down ; you are not so very badly i^aid. I'd lay a wager that you
riiake, with one thing or another — plays, novvles, pamphlicks, and
little odd jobbs here and there — your three thowsnd a year. There's
many a man, dear Bullwig, that works for less, and lives content.
Why shouldn't you 1 Three thowsnd a year is no such bad thing,
— let alone the barnetcy : it must be a great comfort to have that
bloody hand in your skitching.
362 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
But don't you sea, that in a wuld naturally envius, wickid, and
fond of a joak, this very barnetcy, these very cumplaints, — this
ceaseless groning, and moning, and ^vining of yours, is igsackly the
thing which makes people laff and snear more 1 If you were ever
at a great school, you must recklcct who was the boy most bullid,
and buffitid, and purshewd — he who minded it most. He who
could take a basting got but few ; he who rord and wep because
tlie knotty boys called him nicknames, was nicknamed wuss and
wuss. I recklect there was at our school, in Smithfield, a chap of
this milksop spoony sort, who appeared among the romping, ragged
fellers in a fine flanning dressing-go wnd, that his mama had given
him. That pore boy was beaten in a way that liis dear ma and
aunts didn't know him ; his fine flanning dressing-gownd was tiini
all to ribl)ings, and he got no pease in the school ever after, but
Avas abliged to be taken to some other saminary, where, I make no
doubt, he was paid off igsactly in the same way.
• Do you take the halligory, my dear Barnet 1 Jhitaijto yiominij
— you know what I mean. You are the boy, and your barnetcy
is the dressing-gownd. You dress yourself out finer than other
chaps and they all begin to sault and hustle you ; it's human nature,
Barnet. You show weakness, think of your dear ma, mayhap, and
begin to cry : it's all over with you ; the whole school is at you —
upper boys and under, big and little ; the dirtiest little fag in the
place will pipe out blaggerd names at you, and take his pewny tug
at your tail.
The only way to avoid such consperracies is to put a pair of
stowt shoalders forrards, and bust through the crowd of raggy-
nuiftins. A good bold fellow dubls his fistt, and cries, " Wha dares
meddle wi' mer' When Scott got his barnetcy, for instans, did
any one of us cry out 1 No, by the laws, he was our master ; and
wo betide the chap that say neigh to him ! But there's barnets and
barnets. Do you recklect that fine chapter in " Squintin Durward,"
aboiit the too fellos and cups, at the siege of the bishop's castle 1
One of them was a brave warrier, and kep his cup ; they strangled
the other chap — strangled him, and lafied at him too.
With respeck, then, to the barnetcy pint, this is my advice :
brazen it out. Us littery men I take to be like a pack of school-
boys — childish, greedy, envius, holding by our friends, and always
ready to fight. What must be a man's conduck among such ? He
must either take no notis, and pass on myjastick, or else turn round
and pummle soundly — one, two, right and left, ding dong over the
face and eyes ; above all, never acknowledge that he is hurt. Years
ago, for instans (we've no ill-blood, but only mention this by way
of igsample), you began a sparring witli this Magaseen. Law bless
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 363
you, such a ridicklus gaym I never see : a man so belaybord, be-
fiustereil, bewolloped, Mas never known ; it was the laflf of tlie whole
town. Your inteluekshal natur, respected Barnet, is not fizzickly
adapted, so to speak, for encounters of this sort. You must not
indulge in combats with us course bullies of the press : you have
not tlie staminy for a reglar set-to. What, then, is your plan ? In
the midst of the mob to pass as quiet as you can : you won't be
undistubbed. Who is ? Some stray kix and l)uffit8 will I'all to
you — mortial man is subjick to such ; but if you begin t(j wins and
cry out, and set up for a marter, wo betide you !
These remarks, pusnal as I confess them to be, are yet, I assure
you, written in i)eriick good-natur, and have been inspired by your
play of the " Sea Capting," and prefiz to it ; which latter is on
matters intirely pusnal, and will, therefore, I trust, igscuse this kind
of ad kominam (as they say) diskcushion. I propose, lionrabble
Barnit, to cumsider calmly this play and prephiz, and to speak of
both with that honisty Avhicli, in the pantry or studdy, I've been
always phamous for. Let us, in the first place, listen to the opening
of the '■' Preface to the Fourtli Edition : " —
" No one can be more sensible than I am of the many faults
and deficiencies to be found in this play ; but, perhaps, when it is
considered how very rarely it has hai)])ened in the history of our
dramatic literature that good acting plays have been produced, except
by those who have either been actors themselves, or formed their
habits of literature, almost of life, behind the scenes, I might have
looked for a criticism more generous, and less exacting and rigorous,
than that by which the attempts of an author accustomed to another
class of composition have been received Ijy a large proportion of the
periodical press.
" It is scarcely jDossiblc, indeed, that this jilay should not con-
tain faults of two kinds : first, the faults of one who has necessarily
much to learn in the mechanism of his art ; and, secondly, of one
who, having written largely in the narrative style of fiction, may
not unfrequently mistake the efiects of a novel for the eftccts of a
drama. I may add to these, perhaps, the deficiencies that arise
from uncertain health and broken spirits, which render tlie author
more susceptible than he might have been some years since to that
spirit of depreciation and hostility which it has been his misfortune
to excite amongst the general contributors to the periodical press ;
for the consciousness that every endeavour will be made to ca'S'il, to
distort, to misrepresent, and, in fine, if i)ossibIe, to mn down, will
occasionally haunt even the hours of composition, to check the inspira-
tion, and damp the ardour.
364 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
" Having confessed thus much frankly and fairly, and with a
hope that I may ultimately do better, should I continue to write
for the stage (which nothing but an assurance that, with all my
defects, I may yet bring some little aid to the drama, at a time
when any aid, however humble, ought to be Avelcome to the lovers,
of the art, could induce me to do), may I be permitted to say a few
words as to some of the objections wliich have been made against
this play 1 "
Now, my dear sir, look what a pretty number of please you
put fon-ards here, Avhy your play shouldn't be good.
First. Good plays are ahnost always Avritten by actors.
Secknd. You are a novice to the style of composition.
Third. You mai/ be mistaken in your effects, being a novelist
by trade, and not a play-^niter.
Fourthly. Yoiu" in such bad helth and sperrits.
Fifthly. Your so afraid of the critix, that they damp your arder.
For shame, for shame, man ! What confeshiLS is these, — what
painful pewling and piping ! Your not a babby. I take you to
be some seven or eight and thutty years old — " in the morning of
youth," as the flosofer says. Don't let any such nonsince take your
reazn prisoner. Wliat you, an old hand amongst us, — an old soljer
of our sovring quean the press, — you, who have had the best pay,
have held the topmost rank (ay, and desei'ved them too ! — I gif you
lef to quot me in saslaty, and say, " I am a man of genius : Y— 11-
wpl-sh says so"), — you to lose heart, and cry pickavy, and begin
to howl, because little boys fling stones at you ! Fie, man ! take
courage ; and, bearing the terrows of your blood-red hand, as the
poet says, punish us, if we've ofended you : jiunish us like a man,
or bear your own iiunishment like a man. Don't try to come off
with such misrabble lodgic as that above.
What do you 1 You give four satisfackary reazns that the play
is bad (tlie secknd is naught, — for your no such chicking at play-
writing, this being the forth). You show that the play must be
bad, and then begin to deal with the critix for finding folt !
Was there ever wuss generalship 1 The play is bad, — your
right, — a wuss I never see or read. But why kneed you say so %
If it was so verif bad, why publish it \ Because you wish to serve
the drama ! O fie ! don't lay that flatteiing function to your sole
as Milton observes. Do you behave that this "Sea Capting" can
sei've the drama] Did you never intend that it should serve any-
thing, or anykxly the ? Of cors you did ! You wrote it for money,
— money from the maniger, money from the bookseller, — for the same
rea.son that I write this. Sir, Shakspeare -WTote for the very same
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 365
reasons, niid I never heard tliat lie bragged al)oiit serving the drama.
Away witi) this canting about great motifs ! Let us not be two
prowd, my dear Baniet, and fansy ourselves marters of the truth,
marters or apostels. AVe are but tradesmen, ■working for bread,
and not for righteousness' sake. Let's try and work honestly ;
but don't lot us be prayting pompisly about our " sacred calling."
The taylor Avho makes your coats (and very well they are made
too, with the best of velvit collars) — I say Stulze, or Nugee,
might cry out that tJieir motifs Avere but to assert the etiuTile
truth of tayloring, with just as nuich rc:tzn ; and who would be-
lieve them 1
Well ; after this acknollitchmeut that th(^ ])lay is Imd, come
sefral jjages of attack on tlie critLx, and the folt those gentry have
found with it. With these I shan't middle for the presnt. You
defend all the characters 1 by 1, and conclude your remarks as
follows : — ■
" I must be pardoned for this disquisition on my own designs.
When every means is employed to misrepresent, it becomes, i)cr-
haps, allowable to explain. And if I do not think that iny faults
as a dra.matic author are to be found in the study and delineation
of clnu-acter, it is i)recisely because that is the point on which all
my previous pursuits in literature and actual life would be most
likely to preserve me fr(nn the errors I own elsewliere, whether of
misjudgment or inexperience.
"I have now only to add my thanks to the actors for the zeal
and talent with which they have emlx)died the characters entrusted
to them. Tlie sweetness and grace with which Miss Faucit em-
bellished the part of Violet — which, though only a sketch, is most
necessiiry to the coloiuing and harmony of the play — were perhaps
the more pleasing to the audience from the generosity, rare with
actors, which induced her to take a part so for inferior to her
powers. The applause which attends the ])erformancc of Mrs.
Warner and Mr. Strickland attests their success in characters of
unusual difficulty ; while the singular beauty anil nobleness, whether
of conception or execution, with which the greatest of living actoi-s
has elevated the part of Norman (so totally different from his
ordinary range of character), is a ncnv proof of his versatility
and accomplishment in all that belongs to his art. It would be
scarcely gracioiis to conclude these remarks without exjjressing my
acknowledgment of that generous and indulgent sense of justice
which, forgetting all political differences in a literary arena, has
enabled me to api)eal to approving audiences — from hostile critics.
And it is this which alone encourages me to hope that, sooner or
366 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
later, I may add to the dramatic literature of my country something
that may find, perhaps, almost as many friends in the next age as
it has been the fate of the author to find enemies in this."
See, now, what a good comfrabble ^■anaty is ! Pepple have
quarld with the dramatic characters of 3'our play. " No," says
you ; " if I am remarkabble for anythink, it's for my study and
delineation of character ; that is presizely the pint to which my
littery purshuits have led me." Have you read " Jil Blaw," my
dear sir? Have you jnrouzed that exlent tragady, the "Critic"?
There's something so like this in Sir Fretful Plaguy, and tlie
Archbishop of Granadiers, that I'm blest if I can't latf till my sides
ake. Think of the critix fixing on the very pint for which you are
famus ! — the roags I And spose they had said the plot was absudd,
or the langwitch absudder still, don't you think you would have had
a word in defens of them too — you who hope to find trends for
your dramatic wux in tlie nex age ? Poo ! I tell thee, Barnet, that
the nex aire will be wiser and better than this ; and do you think
that it will imi)ly itself 'A reading of your trajadies ? This is misan-
trofy, Barne't — reglar Byrouism ; and you ot to have a better apiniau
of human natur.
Your apinion about the actors I shan't here meddle with. They
all acted exlcntly as far as my humbile judgement goes, and your
wTite in giving them ail possible prays. But let's consider the last
sentence of the prefiz, my dear Bamet, and see what a pretty set of
apiniuns you lay down.
1. The critix are your inymies in this age.
2. In the nex, however, you hope to finil newmrous frends.
3. And it's a satisfockshn to tliink that, in spite of politticle
difirances, you have found frendly aujonces here.
Now, my dear Barnet, for a man who begins so humbly with
what my friend Father Prout calls an argamantum ad misericorjam
who ignowledges that his i)lay is bad, that his pore dear helth is
bad, and those cussid critix have played the juice with him — I say,
for a man who beginns in such a humbill toan, it's rayther rich to
see liow you end.
My dear Barnet, do you suppose that politticle dif ranees
prejudice pepple against you ? What are your politix ? Wig, I
presume — so are mine, entry noo. And what if they are Wig, or
Raddiccle, or Cumsu^•v^ative ? Does any mf)rtial man in England
care a phig for yoiu- politix ? Do you think yourself such a mity
man in parlymint, that critix arc to l)e angry with you, and
aujences to be cumsidered magnanamous because they treat you
fairly? There, now, was Sherridn, he who roat the "Rifles" and
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 367
" School for Scandle " (I saw the " Ritlcs " after your play, and,
Barnet, if you knew wliat a relief it Avas !) — there, I say, was
Sherridn — he ^vas a politticle character, if you please — he could
make a spitch or two — do you spose that Pitt, Purseyvall, Castlerag,
old George the Third himself, Avooden go to see the " Rivlcs " —
ay, and clap hinds too, and laff and ror, for all Sherry's Wiggery^
Do you spose the critix wouldn't applaud too ? For shame, Barnet !
what ninnis, what hartless raskles, you uuist beleave them to he, —
in the fust plase, to fiuicy that you arc a politticle genus ; in the
secknd, to let your politix intcrfear with their notiums about littery
merits !
" Put that nonsiuce out of your head," as Fox said to Bonypart.
Wasn't it that great genus, Dennis, that Avrote in Switf and Poop's
time, who fansid that tlie French king Avooden make pease unless
Dennis was deliA'ered \\\) to him ? Upon my Avud, I doan't think
he carrid his diddlusion mueli further than a serting honrabble
barnet of my aquentance.
And then for the nex age. Respected sir, this is another
diddlusion; a gross misteak on your part, or my name is not
Y sh. These plays immortiaH Ah, jvirri/savij/e, as the
French say, this is too strong— the small-beer of the " Sea Cap-
ting," or of any suxessor of the "Sea Cap ting," to keep sAveet
for sentries and sentries ! Barnet, Barnet ! do you knoAV the natur
of bear? Six Aveeks is not past, and here your last casque is
sour — the iniblic won't even uoaa' drink it ; and I lay a Avager tliat,
betwigst this day (the thuttieth November) and tlie end of the
year, the barl will be off the st(« altogether, never never to
return.
I've netted doAvn a fcAV frazes here and there, Avhich you will
do Avell to igsamin : —
NORMAN.
"The eternal Flora
Woos to her odorous haunts the western wind ;
While circling round and upwards from the bough?,
Golden with fruits that lure the joyous birds,
Melody, like a happy soul released,
Hangs in the air, and from invisible plumes
Shakes sweetness down ! "
NORMAN.
"And these the lips
Where, till this hour, the sad and holy kiss
Of parting linger'd, as the fragrance left
By ai?i/c?s when they touch the earth and vanish.^'
368 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
NOEMAN.
" Hark ! she has blessed her son ! I bid ye witness,
Ye listening heavens — thou circumambient air :
The ocean sighs it back — and with the murmur
Rustle the happy leaves. All nature breathes
Aloud— aloft— to the Great Parent's ear,
The blessing of the mother on her child."
KORMAN.
" I dream of love, enduring faith, a heart
Mingled with mine— a deathless heritage,
Which I can take unsullied to the stars,
When the Great Father calls his children home,"
NORMAN.
" The blue air, breathless in the starry peace,
After long silence hushed as heaven, but filled
With happy thoughts as heaven with angels."
NORMAN.
*' Till one calm night, when over earth and wave
Heaven looked its love from all its numberless stars,
NORMAN.
" Those eyes, the guiding stars by which I steered."
NORMAN.
" That great mother
(The only parent I have known), whose face
Is bright with gazing ever on the stars —
The mother-sea."
NORMAN.
' ' My bark shall be our home ;
The stars that light the angel palaces
Of air, our lamps."
NORMAN.
" A name that glitters, like a star, amidst
The galaxy of England's loftiest born. "
LADY ARUNDEL.
" And see him prineeliest of the lion tribe,
Whose swords and coronals gleam around the throne.
The guardian stars of the imperial isle."
»
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 369
The fust spissymen has been goiiiij: tlie round of all the papers,
as real reglar poatry. Those wicked critix 1 they unist have l)oeii
lafRng in their sleafs Avhen they quoted it. Malody, suckling
round and uppards from the bows, like a hai)i)y •'^"nl released,
hangs in the air, and from invizable plumes shakes sweetness
down. Mighty fine, truly ! but let mortial man tell the meanink of
the passidge. Is it miisichle sweetniss that Malody shakes down
from its plumes — its wings, that is, or tail — or some pekewliar
scent that proceeds from hap])y souls released, and which they
shake down frcii the trees when they ai'C suckling round and
uppards? la this poatry, Barnet? Lay your hand on your busm,
and sjieak out boldly : Is it poatry, or sheer windy luuubugg, that
sounds a. little melojous, and won't bear the connnanest test of
comman sence ?
In passidge number 2, the same bisniss is going on, though
in a more comprehensable way : the air, the leaves, the otion,
are fild with emocean at Cajiting Norman's happiness. Pore
Nature is dragged in to partisapate in his joys, just as she has
been befor. Once in a poem, this universle simfithy is very
well ; but once is enuff, my dear Barnet ; and that once should
be in some great suckmstans, surely, — such as the meeting of
Adam and Eve, in " Paradice Lost," or Jewpeter and Jewno, in
Hoamer, where there seems, as it were, a reasn for it. But
sea-captings should not be eternly spowting and invoking gods,
hevns, starrs, angels, and other silcstial iuHuences. We can all
do it, Barnet ; nothing in life is esier. I can compare my livry
buttons to the stars, or the clouds of my Imckopipe to the dark
vellums that ishew from Mount Hetna ; or I can say that angels
are looking down from them, and the tobacco silf, like a hai)py
sole released, is circling round and upwards, and shaking sweet-
ness down. All tins is as esy as drink ; but it's not poatry,
Barnet, nor natural. People, when their mothers reckonise
them, don't howl about the suckumambient air, and ])aws to
think of the happy leaves a-rustling — at least, one mistrusts
them if they do. Take another instans out of your own i)lay.
' Capting Norman (with his etcrnll slachjaiv !) meets the gal ot
his art : —
" Look up, look up, my Violet— weeping? fie !
And trembling too — yet leaning on my breast.
In truth, thou art too soft for such rude shelter.
Look up ! I come to woo thee to the seas,
My sailor's bride ! Hast thou no voice but blushes ?
Nay— From those roses let me, like the bee,
Drag forth the secret sweetness 1 "
370 .AIEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
VIOLET.
" Oh what thoughts
Were kept for speech when we once more should meet,
Now blotted from ihc page; and all I feel
Is — thou art with me ! "
Very right, IVIiss Violet — the scentinient is natral, aifeckslinit,
X)leasing, simple (it might have been in more grammaticle languidge,
and no harm done) ; but never mind, tlie feeling is pritty ; and I can
fancy, my dear Barnet, a pritty, smiling, weeping lass, looking up in
a man's face and saying it. But the capting ! — oh, this capting ! —
this windy spouting captain, with his jn-ittinesses, and eonseated apol-
logies for the liardnoss of his busm, and his old, stale, vapid simalies,
and his wisjies to be a bee ! Pish ! Men don't make love in this
tinniking way. It's the part of a sentymentle, poeticle taylor, not a
galliant gentleman, in eommand of one of Her ^ladjisty's vessels of war.
Look at the remaining extrae, lionored Barnet, and acknollidge
that Capting Norman is eturnly rejjeating himself, with his enilless
jabber about stars and angels. Look at the neat grammaticle twist
of Lady Arundel's spitch, too, who, in the corse of three lines, has
made her son a i)rincc, a lion, with a sword and coronal, anil a star.
Why jumble and sheak up metafors in this way? Barnet, one
simily is quite enuff in the best of sentenses (and I preshume I
kneedn't tell you that it's as well to have it like, Avhen you are
about it). Take my advice, honrabble sir — listen to a liumble
footrain : it's genrally best in poatry to understand jiurtickly what
you mean yourself, an<l to igsjiress your meaning clearly afterwoods
— in the simpler words the better, praps. You may, for instans,
call a coronet a coroiial (an "ancestral coronal," p. 74) if y(iu like,
as you might call a hat a "swart sombrero," "a glossy four-and-
nine," "a silken helm, to storm impermeable, ami lightsome as the
breezy gossamer ; " but, in the long run, it's as well to call it a hat.
It is a hat ; and that name is quite as poetticle as another. I think
it's Playto, or els Hanystottle, who observes that what we call a
rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Confess, now, dear
Barnet, don't you long to call it a Polyanthus?
I never see a play more carelessly written. In such a hurry
you seem to have bean, that you have actially in some sentences
forgot to put in the sence. AVhat is this, for instance? —
" This thrice precious one
Smiled to my eyes — drew being from my breast-
Slept in my arms ; — the very tears I shed
Above my treasures ware to men and angels
Alike such holy sweetness ! "
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 371
In the name of all the angels that ever you invoked — Raphael,
Gabriel, Uriel, Zadkiel, Azrael — v/hat does this "holy sweetness"
mean ? We're not spiuxes to read such dark conandrums. If you
knew my state sins I came upon this passidg — I've neither slep nor
eton ; I've neglected my pantry ; I've been wandring from house to
house with this riddl in my hand, and nobody can understand it.
All Mr. Frazier's men are wild, looking gloomy at one another, and
asking what this may be. All the cumtributore have been spoak to.
The Doctor, who knows every languitch, has tried and giv'n up ;
we've sent to Docter Pettigi'uel, who reads horyglifics a deal czicr
than my way of spellin' — no anscr. Quick ! quick with a fifth
edition, honored Barnet, and set us at rest ! While your about it,
please, too, to igsplain the two last lines : — •
" His merry bark with England's Hag to crown her."
See what dcUexy of igsiDreshn, " a flag to crown her ! "
" His merry bark with England's flag to crown hor,
Fame for my hopes, and woman in my cares."
Likewise the following : —
" Girl, beware,
The love that trifles round the charms it gilds
Oft ruins while it shines."
Igsplanc this, men and angels ! I've tried every way ; backards,
forards, and in all sorts of trancepositions, as thus : —
Or,
Or,
Or,
Or,
The love that ruins round the charms it shines,
Gilds while it trifles oft ;
The charm that gilds around the love it ruins,
Oft trifles while it shines ;
The ruins that love gilds and shines around,
Oft trifles where it charms ;
Love, while it charms, shines round, and ruins oft,
The trifles that it gilds ;
The love that trifles, gilds and ruins oft,
While round the charms it shines.
All which are as sensable as the fust passidge.
And with this I'll alow my friend Smith, who has been silent'
all this time, to say a few words. He has not written near so
372 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
much as me (being an infearor genus, betwigst ourselves), but he
says he never had such mortial dilBcklty with anything as with tlie
dixcripshn of the plott of your jiease. Here his letter : —
f To Ch-rl-s F-tzr-y Pl-nt-g-n~t Y-ll-wjd-sh, Esq., <£-c. <tc.
30.'/ii\"or., 1S39.
My dear axd honoured Sir, — I have the pleasure of laying
before you the following description of the plot, and a few remarks
upon tlic style of the piece called " The Sea Captain."
Five-and-twenty years back, a certain Lord Anuulel had a
(laughter, heiress of his estates and property : a jjoor cousin, Sir
Maurice Beevor (being next in succession) ; and a page, Arthur Le
Mcsnil by name.
Tlie daugliter took a fancy for tlie page, and the young persons
were married unknown to his Lordsliip.
Tliree days before her confinement (thinking, no doubt, that
j)eriod favourable for travelling), the young couple liad agreed to
run away together, and had reached a chai)el near on the sea-coast
from which tliey were to embark, when Lord Arundel abruptly put
a stnji to tlieir proceedings by causing one Gausseu, a pirate, to
murder tlie page.
His daugiiter was carried back to Arundel House, and, in three
days, gave birth to a son. Wliether his Lordshij) knew of this birth
I caimot say; the infant, however, was never acknowledged, but
carried by Sir Maurice Beevor to a priest, Onslow by name, who
educated the lad ami kept hiiu for twelve years in i)rofound ignorance
of his birth. The boy v/ent by the name of Norman.
Lady Arundel meanwhile marrieil again, again became a widow,
but had a second son, wlio was the acknowledged heir, and called Lord
Ashdale. Old Lord Arundel died, and her Ladyship became countess
in her own right.
When Norman was about twelve years of age, his mother, who
wisheil to " vaft young Arthur to a distant land," had him sent on
board ship. Who should the captain of the ship be but Gaussen,
who received a smart bribe from Sir Maurice Beevor to kill the
lad. Accordingly, Gausseu tied him to a ]ilauk, and pitched him
overboard,
■ ••••••
About thirteen years after these circumstances, Violet, an orphan
niece of Lady Arundel's second husband, came to ]iass a few weeks
with her Ladyship. She had just come from a seii-voyage, and had
been saved from a wicked Algerine by an English sea captain. This
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 373
eea cai>taiii was no other than Norman, who liad been ijickcd up off
liis phmk, and fell in love with, and was loved by. Miss Violet.
A short time after Violet's arrival at her aunt's the captain came
to pay her a visit his ship anchoring off the coast, near Lady Arundel's
residence. By a singular coincidence, that rogue Gaussen's ship
anchored in the harbour too. Gaussen at once knew his man, for
he had " tracked " him (after drowning him), and he informed Sir
Maurice Beevor that young Norman was alive.
Sir Maurice Beevor informed her Ladyship. How should she
get rid of him 1 In this wise. He Avas in love with Violet, let him
marrj^ her and be otf ; for Lord Ashdale was in love with his cousin
too ; and, of course, could not marry a young woman in her station
of life. "You have a chaplain on board," says her Ladyship to
Cajitain Norman ; " let him attend to-night in the ruined chapel,
marry Violet, and away with you to sea." By this means she hoped
to be quit of him for ever.
But unfortunately the conversation had been overheard by Beevor,
and reported to Ashdale. Ashdale determined to be at the chapel
and carry off Violet ; as for Beevor, he sent Gaussen to the chapel
to kill l:)oth Ashdale and Norman : thus there would only be Lady
Arundel between him and the title.
Norman, in the meanwhile, who had been walking near the
chapel, had just seen his worthy old friend, the priest, most barbar-
ously murdered there. Sir Maurice Beevor had set Gaussen upon
him ; his reverence was coming with the papers concerning Norman's
birth, which Beevor wanted in order to extort money from the
Countess. Gaussen, A\-as, liowever, ol)liged to run before he got the
papers ; and the clergyman had time, before he died, to tell Norman
the story, and give him the documents, with which Norman sped off
to the castle to have an interview with his mother.
He lays his wliite cloak and hat on the table, and T>cgs to be
left alone with her Ladyship. Lord Ashdale, who is in the room,
surlily quits it ; but, going out, cunningly puts on Norman's cloak.
" It will be dark," says he^ " down at the chapel ; Violet won't know
me ; and, egad ! I'll run off with her."
Norman has his interview. Her Ladyship acknowledges him, for
she cannot help it ; but will not embrace him, love him, or have
anything to do with him.
Away he goes to the chapel. His chaplain was there waiting to
marry him to Violet, his boat was there to carry him on board his
shij), and Violet was there, too.
" Norman," says she, in the dark, " dear Norman, I knew you
by your white cloak; here I am." And she and the man in s.
cloak go off to the inner chajiel to be married.
374 MEMOIRS OF MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSII
There waits Master Gausscn ; he has seized the cliaplain and
the boat's crew, and is just about to murder tlie man in tlie cloak,
when —
Norman rushes in and cuts him down, much to the sur-
prise of Miss, for she never suspected it was sly Ashdale who
had come, as wc have seen, disguised, and very nearly paid for his
masquerading.
Ashdale is very grateful; l)ut, when Norman jxirsists in marry-
ing Violet, he says — no, ho shan't. He shall figlit ; he is a coward
if he doesn't fight. Norman flings down his sword, and says he
vj07iH fight ; and —
Lady Arundel, who has been at ])rayers all this time, rushing
in, says, " Hold ! this is your brotlier, Percy — your elder brother ! "
Here is some rcstiveness on Ashdale's part, but he finishes by
embracing his brother.
Norman burns all the papers ; vows he will never peach ; re-
conciles himself with his mother; says he will go loser; but,
having ordered his shij) to " veer " round to the chapel, orders
it to veer back again, for he will pass the honeymoon at Ai'undel
Castle.
As you have been pleased to ask my opinion, it strikes me that
there are one or two very good notions in this plot. But tlie author
does not fail, as he would modestly have us believe, from ignorance
of stage business ; he seems to know too much, rather than too little,
about the stage ; to be too anxious to cram in efi'ccts, int-idcnts,
per[)lexitics. There is the perplexity concerning Ashdale's murder,
and Norman's murder, and the priest's murder, and the page's murder,
and Gaussen's murder. Tliere is the i)erplexity about the papers,
and that about the hat and cloak (a silly foolish obstacle), which
only tantalise the spectator, and retard the march of the drama's
action : it is as if the author had said, " I must have a new incident
in every act, I must ke(!i) tickling the sjjcctator perpetually, and
never let him ofi" until the fall of the curtain."
The same disagreeable bustle and petty complication of intrigue
you may remark in the author's drama of " Richelieu." " The
Lady of Lyf)ns " was a much simpler and better wrought ])l()t ; the
incidents following each other not too swiftly or startingly. In
" Richelieu,'' it always seemed to me as if one heard doors per-
petually clajjping and banging ; one was i)uzzlod to follow the train
of conversation, in the midst of the perpetual small noises that
distracted one right and left.
Nor is the list of characters of "The Sea Captain" to be
despised. The outlines of all of them are good. A mother, for
whom one feels a proper tragic mixture of hatred and pity; a
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 375
gallant single-hearted son, wlioin she disdains, and who conquers
her at last by his noble conduct ; a dashing hauglity Tyljalt
of a brother ; a m icked poor cousin, a pretty maid, and a fierce
buccanier. These people might pass three hours ver>' well on
the stage, and interest the audience hugely ; but the author fails
in filling up the outlines. His language is absurdly stilted, fre-
quently careless ; the reader or spectator hears a number of loud
speeches, but scarce a dozen lines that seem to belong of ;:ature to
the speakers.
Nothing can be more fulsome or loathsome to my mind than the
continual sham-religious claptraps which the author has put into
the mouth of his liero ; nothing more imsailorlikc than his namby-
pamby starlit descriptions, which my ingenious colleague has, I see,
alluded to. " Thy faith my anchor, and thine eyes my haven,"
cries the gallant captain to his lady. See how loosely the sentence
is constructed, like a thmisand others in the book. The captain is to
cast r.:ichor -svith the girl's fliith in her own eyes : either image might
pass by itself, but together, like the quadrupeds of Kilkenny, they
devour each other. Tlie captain tells his lieutenant to hid his bark
veer round to a point in the harbour. "Was ever such language
My Lady gives Sir Maurice a thousand pounds to ivaft him (her
son) to some distant shore. Nonsense, sheer nonsense ; and, what
is Avorse, affected nonsense !
Look at the comedy of the poor cousin. " There is a great deal
of game on the estate — partridges, hares, wild-geese, snipes, and
plovers {smacking his lips) — besides a magnificent i)resen"e of
siKirrows, which I can sell to the little hlackgtiards in the streets
at a penny u hundred. But I am very poor — a verj' poor old
knight!" '
Is this ■«it or nature ? It is a kind of sham wit : it reads as
if it were wit, but it is not. What poor, poor stuff, about the little
blackguard boys ! wliat flimsy ecstasies and siEy " smacking of lips "
about the plovers ! Is this the man who writes for the next age \
fie ! Here is another joke : — -
SIR ilAUKICE.
" Mice ! zounds, how can I
Keep mice ! I can't afford it ! They were starved
To death an age ago. The last was found
Come Christmas three years, stretched beside a bono
In that same larder, so consumed and worn
By pious fast, 'twas awful to behold it !
I canonised its corpse in spirits of wine,
And set it in tlie porch — a solemn warning
To thieves and be-jrgars ! "
376 MEMOIRS TO MR. C. J. YELLOWPLUSH
Is not this rare wit 1 " Zounds ! how can I keep ixiice 1 " is
well enough for a miser; not too new, or brilliant either; but this
miserable dilution of a thin joke, this wretched hunting down of
the poor mouse ! It is humiliating to think of a man of esjyrit
harping so long on such a mean pitiful string. A man who aspires
to immortality, too ! I .doubt whether it is to be gained thus ;
whether our author's words are not too loosely built to make
" starry-pointing pyramids " of. Horace clipped and squared his
blocks more carefully before he laid the monument which imber
edax, or aquila imj^otens, or fuga teraporum, might assail in vain.
Even old Ovid, when he raised his stately shining lieathen temple,
had placed some columns in it, and hewn out a statue or two
which deserved the immoi'tality that he prophesied (somewhat
arrogantly) for himself But let not all be looking forward to a
future, and fancying that, " incerti spatium dum finiat oivi"
our books are to be immortal. Alas ! the way to immort&lity
is not so easy, nor will our " Sea Captain " be permitted such
an unconscionable cruise. If all the immortalities were really to
have their wish, what a work would our descendants have to study
them all !
Not yet, in my humble opinion, lias the honourable baronet
achieved this deathless consummation. There will come a day
(may it be long distant !) when the very best of his novels will be
forgotten; and it is reasonable to suppose that liis dramas will
pass out of existence, some time or other, in the lapse of the secula
seculorum. In the meantime, my dear Plush, if you ask me what
the great obstacle is towards the dramatic fame and merit of our
friend, I would say that it does not lie so much in hostile critics or
feeble health, as in a careless habit of writing, and a peevish vanity
which causes him to shut his eyes to his faults. Tlie question of
original capacity I will not moot; one may think very highly of
the honourable baronet's talent, without rating it quite so high as
he seems disposed to do.
And to conclude : as he has chosen to combat the critics in
person, the critics are surely justified in being allowed to address
him directly.
With best compliments to Mrs. Yellowplush, I have the honour
to be, dear Sir, your most faithful and obliged huml)le servant,
John Thomas Smith.
And now, Smith having finisht his letter, I thiidc I can't do
better than clothes mine lickwise ; for though I should never be
tired of talking, praps the public may of hearing, and therefore
it's best to shut up shopp.
EPISTLES TO THE LITERATI 377
"What I've said, respected Barnit, I lioap you woaii't take un-
kind. A play, you see, is public property for every one to say his
say on ; and I think, if you read your prcfez over agin, you'll see
that it ax as a direct incouridgincnt to us critix to come forrard and
notice you. But don't fansy, I besitch you, that we are actiatcd
by hostillaty : fust writ- a good ]ilay, and you'll see 'vvell prays it
fast enufF. Waiting which, Agraji, Munseer le Chevaleer, I'ashur-
ance de ma hot cumsideratun. Voter distangy, Y.
THE DIARY OF
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, ESQ,
WITH HIS LETTERS
THE DIARY OF
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE, Eso.
A LUCKY SPECULATOR
CONSIDERABLE sensation has been excited in the upper and
hiwer circles in the West End, by a startling piece of good
fortune which has befallen James Plush, Esq., lately footman
in a respected family in Berkeley Square.
" One day last week, Mr. James waited upon his master, who
is a banker in the City ; and after a little blushing and hesitation,
said he had saved a little money in service, was anxious to retire,
and to invest his savings to advantage.
" His master (we believe we may mention, without offending
delicacy, the well-known name of Sir George Flimsy, of the'house of
Flimsy, Diddler, and Flash) smilingly asked Mr. James what was
the amount of his savings, wondering considerably how, out of an
income of thirty guineas — the main part of which he spent in
bouquets, silk stockings, and perfumery — Mr, Plush could have
managed to lay by anything.
" Mr= Plush, with some hesitation, said he had been speculathui
in railroods, and stated his winnings to have been thirty thousand
pounds. He had commenced his speculations with twenty, borrowed
from a fellow-servant. He had dated his letters from the house in
Berkeley Square, and humlily begged pardon of his master for not
having instructed the Railway Secretaries who answered his applica-
tions to apply at the area-bell.
" Sir George, who was at breakfost, instantly rose, and shook
Mr. P. by the hand , Lady Flimsy begged him to be seated, r.ud
partake of the breakfast which he had laid on the table ; and lias
subsequently invited him to her grand dejeuner at Richmond, \\-\\qvc
it was observed that Miss Ennly Flimsy, her beautiful and accom-
plished seventh daughter, paid the lucky gentleman marked attention.
382 A LUCKY SPECULATOE
"=We hear it stated that Mr, P. is of a very ancient family
(Hugo de la Pluclie came over with the Conqueror) ; and the
new brougham which he has started bears the ancient coat of his
race.
" He has taken apartments in tlie Albany, and is a director of
thirty-three railroads. He proposes to stand for Parliament at the
next general election on decidedly Conservative principles, which have
always been the politics of his family,
" Report says, tliat even in his humble capacity Miss Emily
Flimsy had remarked his high demeanour. Well, 'None but the
brave,' say we, ' deserve the fair.' " — 2Iorning Paper.
This announcement will explain the following lines, which have
been put into our box* with a West End post-mark. If, as we
believe, they are written by the young woman from whom the
millionaire borrowed the sum on which he raised his fortune, what
heart will not melt with sympathy at her tale, and pity the sorrows
wliich she expresses in such artless language 1
If it be not too late ; if wealth have not rendered its possessor
callous : if poor IMaryanue he still alive ; we trust, we trust, Mr,
Plush will do her justice.
"JEAMES OF BUCKLEY SQUARE.
• "a heligy.
"Come all yo gents vot cleans the plate,
Como all yo ladies maids so fair —
Vile I a story vill relate
Of cruel Jeames of Buckley Square.
A tighter lad, it is confest,
,Ke'er valked with powder in his air,
Or vore a nosegay in his breast,
Than andsum Jeames of Buckley Square.
O Evns ! it vas the best of sights,
Behind his Master's co.ach and pair,
To see our Jeames in red plush tig'hts,
A driving hoff from Buckley Square. '
He vel became his hagwilletts,
He cocked his at with such a hair;
His calves and viskers vas such pets,
That hall loved Jeames of Buckley Square.
* The letter'box of Mr. Punch, in whoso columns these papers were first
pohiishoil.
A LUCKY SPECULATOR ^8i
He pleased the hup-stairs folks as veil,
And o ! I vithercd with daspair,
Missis vould ring the parler bell,
And call up Jeaines in Buckley Square.
Both beer and sperrits he abhord
(Sperrits and bcor I can't a boar),
You would have thought he vas a lord
Down in our All in Buckley Square.
Last year he visper'd, ' Mary Ann,
Veu I've an under'd pound to spare,
To take a public is my plan,
And leave this hojous liUcklej' Squaro.'
how my gentle heart did bound,
To think that I his name should boar.
' Dear Jeames,' says I, ' I've twenty pound,*
And gev them him in Buckley Square.
Our master vas a City gent.
His name's in railroads everywhere,
And lord, vot lots of letters vent
Betwigst his brokers and Buckley Square !
My Jeames it was the letters took,
And read them all (I think it's fair),
And took a leaf from Master's book,
As hothcrs do in Buckley Squaro.
Encouraged with my twenty pound,
Of which poor I was unttvare,
He wrote the Companies all round,
And signed hisself from Buckley Square.
Ar.d how John Porter used to grin,
As day by day, share after share,
Came railvay letters pouring in,
'J. Plush, Esquire, in Buckley Square.'
Our servants' All was in a rage-
Scrip, stock, curves, gradients, bull and b©a?^
Vith butler, coachman, groom and page,
Vas all the talk in Buckley S(iuare.
But ! imagine vot I felt
Last Vensday voek as ever were ;
I gits a letter, which I spelt
' Miss M. A. Hoggins, Buckley Square.'
He sent hie back my money true-^
He sent me back my lock of air,
Atid said, ' jNIy dear, I bid ajew
To JiLary Hann and Buckley Square.
^84 A LETTER FROM "JEAMES^'
Think not to marrj-, foolish Hann,
With people who your betters are ;
James Plush is now a gentleman,
And you — a cook in Buckley Square.
' I've thirty thousand guineas won,
In six sTiort months, by genus rare ;
You little thought what Jeanies was on,
Poor Mary Hann, in Buckley Square.
I've thirty thousand guineas net,
Powder and plush I scorn to vear ;
And so. Miss Mary Hann, forget
For hever Jcames, of Buckley Square.'"'
The rest of the MS. is illegible, being literally Wcoshed awa}
in a flood of tears.
A LETTER FROM " JEAMES, OF BUCKLEY SQUARE."
Albany, Letter X. Avoxist 10, 1S45.
"Sir, — Has a reglar suscriber to your emusing paper, I beg
leaf to state that I should never have done so, had I supposed that
it was your abbit to igspose the mistaries of i>rivit life, and to hinjer
the dclligit feelings of umble individyouals like myself, who have no
ideer of being made the subject of newspaper criticism.
" I elude, Sir, to the unjustafiable use which has been made of
my name in your Journal, where both my muccantile spcclations
and tlie hinmost j^ashns of my art have been brot forrards in a
ridicklus way for the public emusemint.
" What call, Sir, has the pidilic to inquire into the suckmstansics
of my engagements with Miss Mary Hann Oggins, or to meddle
with their rupsher? Why am I to be maid the hobjick of your
redicule in a doggril'ballit' \n\\)C\\tQ<i to her? I say imjjeivted,
because, in mi/ time at least, ]\Iary Hann could only sign her + mark
(luus I've hoften witnist it for her when she paid hin at the Savings
Bank), and has for sacrificinr/ to the Mewses and making j^oatry,
she was as hincapihle as Mr. Wakley himself
" With respect to the ballit, my l)aleaf is, tliat it is wrote by a
footman in a low famly, a pore retch who attempted to rivle me in
my affections to ]\Iary Hann — a feller not five foot six, and with no
more calves to his legs than a donkey — who was always a-ritin
(having been a doctor's boy) and who I nockt down with a pint of
porter (as he well recklex) at the 3 Tuns Jerndng Street, for daring
A LETTER FROM *'JEAMES" 38.5
to try to make a but of me. He has signed Miss H's name to his
nonsince and lies : and you lay yourself hopen to a haction for lible
for insutting them in your paper.
" It is false that I have treated Miss H. hill in hany way.
That I borrowed 201b of her is irew. But she confesses I i)aid it
back. Can hall people say as much of the money thei/ve lent or
borrowed? No. And I not only paid it back, but giv her the
andsomest pres'nts : ichich I never should have eluded to, but for
tliis attack. Fust, a silver thimble (wliich I found in Missus's
work-box) ; secknd, a vollom of Byrom's poems ; third, I halways
brought her a glas of Chirasore, when we ad a party, of which she
was remarkable fond. I treated her to Hashley's twice (and halways
a srimp or a hoyster by the way), and a thoivsnd deligit attentions,
which I sapose count for not h ink.
" Has for marridge. Haltered suckmstancies rendered it him-
possable. I was gone into a new spear of life — mingling with my
native aristoxy. I breathe no sallible of blame against Miss H.,
but his a hilliterit cookmaid fit to set at a tashnable table? Do
young fellers of rank genrally marry out of the Kitching? If we
cast our i's upon a low-born gal, I needn say it's only a tempory
distraction, pore j}assy le tong. So nnich for her claims ui)on me.
Has for that beest of a Doctor's hoy he's unwuthy the notas of a
Gentleman.
" That I've one thirty thousand lb, and iwajn more, I dont
deny. Ow much has tlie Kilossus of Railroads one, I sliould like
to know, and what was his cappitle % I hentered the market with
l?01li, specklated Jewdicious, and ham what I ham. So may you
be (if you have 2011i, and prajts you haven't — So may you lie : if
you choose to go in & win.
" I for my part am jusly prowd of my suxess, and could give
you a hundred instances of my gTatatude. For igsample, the fust
pair of bosses I bought (and a better i)air of steppers I dafy you to
see in hany curracle) I crisn'd Hull and Selby, in grateful elusion to
my transackshns in that railroad. My riding Cob I called very
unhaptly my Dublin and Galway. He came down with me the
other day, and I've jest sold him at \ discount.
" At fust with prudence and modration I only kep tAvo grooms
for my stables, one of whom lickwise waited on me at table. I have
now a confidenshle servant, a vally de shamber— He curls my air ;
inspex my accounts, and hansers my hinvitations to dinner. I call
this Vally my Trent Valbj, for it was the prophit I got from tliat
exient line, which injuiccd me to ingage him.
"Besides my North British Plate and Breakfast cqui]ndge— I
have two handsom suvvices for dinner— the goold plate for Sundays,
2 F
386 A LETTER FROM "JEAMES"
and the silver for common use. When I ave a great party, ' Trent,'
I say to my man, ' "we will have the London and Bummingham plate
to-day (the goold), or else the Manchester and Leeds (the silver).'
I bought them after realising on the abuf lines, and if people
suppose that the companys made me a presnt of the plate, how can
I help it?
" In the sam way I say, 'Trent, bring us a bottle of Bristol and
Hexeter ! ' or, ' Put some Heastern Counties in hice ! ' He knows
what I mean ; it's the wines I bought upon the hospicioas tummina-
tion of my counexshn witli those two railroads.
" So strong, indeed, as this abbit become, that being asked to
stand Godfather to the youngest Miss Diddle last weak, I had her
christened (provisionally) Rosamell — from the French line of which
I am Director ; and oidy the other day, finding myself rayther
unwell, ' Doctor,' says I to Sir Jeames Clark, * 'Ive sent to considt
you because my Midlands are out of honler ; and I want you to
send them up to a jnemiiun.' The Doctor lafd, and I beleave told
the story subsquintly at Bu(;kinum P-ll-s.
" But I will trouble you no fatlier. My sole objict in writing
has been to clear my carrater — to show that I came by my money
in a honrable Avay : that I'm not ashaymd nf the manner in which
I gayned it, and ham indeed grateful for my good fortune.
" To conclude, I have ad my podigree maid out at the Erald
Hoffis (I don't mean the Morninrf Erald), and have took for my
arms a Stagg. You are corrict in stating that I am of hanriont
Kormin famly. Tliis is more than Peal can say, to whomb I ap[ilic'd
for a barnetcy ; but the primmier being of low igstraction, natrally
stickles for his border. Consurvative thouirh I be, / mai/ chanr/e
my opinions before the next Election, wlien I intend to hofter
myself as a Candydick for Parlymint. Meanwhile, I have the
honor to be, Sir, your most obeajnt Survnt,
"Fitz-James de la Pluche."
THE DIARY
ONE day in the panic week, our friend Jeames called at our
office, evidently in great perturbation of mind and disorder
of dress. He had no tiower in his button-hole ; his yellow
kid gloves were certainly two days old. He had not above three
of the ten chains he usually sjjorts, and his great coarse knotty-
knuckled old hands were deprived of some dozen of the rubies,
emeralds, and other cameos witli which, since his elevation to
•fortune, the poor fellow has thought fit to adoni himself
" How's scrip, Mr. Jeames % " said we pleasantly, greeting our
esteemed contributor.
" Scrip be ," replied he, with an expression we cannot
repeat, and a look of agony it is impossible to descril)e in i)rint,
and walked about the parlour whistling, humming, rattling his keys
and coppers, and showing other signs of agitation. At last, " Mr.
Punch" says he, after a moment's hesitation, " I wish to speak to
you on a pint of businiss. I wish to be paid for my contribewtions
to your paper. Suckmstances is altered with me. I — I — in a
word, can you lend me £ for the account ? "
He named the sum. It was one so great that we don't care
to mention it here ; but on receiving a cheque for the amount (on
Messrs. Pump and Aldgate, our bankers), tears came into the honest
fellow's eyes. He squeezed our hand until he nearly wrung it off,
and shouting to a cab, he plunged into it at our office-door, and was
off to the City.
Returning to om- study, we found he had left on our table an
open pocket-book, of the contents of which (for the sake of safety)
we took an inventory. It contained — three tavcrn-bills, paid; a
tailor's ditto, unsettled ; forty-nine allotments in different companies,
twenty-six thousand seven hundred shares in all, of which the
market value we take, on an average, to be \ discount ; and in an.
old bit of paper tied with pink riband a lock of chestnut hair, with
•the initials M. A. H.
In the diary of 'the pocket-book was a journal, jotted down by
the proprietor from time to time. At first the entries are insignificant ;
388 THE DIAEY OF
as, for instance : — " 3rc? January — Our Iteer in the Suvnts' Hall so
precious small at this Christmas time that I reely muss give warning,
& wood, but for my dear Mary Hann." " Fehruary 7 — That hroot
Screw, the Butler, wanted to kis her, but my dear Mary Haun boxt
his hold hears, & served him right. / datest Screw," — and so forth.
Then the diary relates to Stock Exchanije operations, until we come
to the time when, having achieved his successes, Mr. James quitted
Berkeley Square and his livery, and began his life as a speculator and
a gentleman upon town. It is from the latter part of his diary that
we make the following
EXTRAX :—
" Wen I anounced in the Servnts All my axeshn of forting, and
that by the exasize of my own talince and ingianiuty I had reerlized
a summ of 20,000 lb. (it was only 5, but M-hat's the use of a mann
•lepreshiating the qualaty of his own mackyrel?) — wen I enounced
my abmp intention to cut — you should have scan the sensiition
among hall the people ! — Cook wanted to know whether I W(X)dn
like a sweatbred, or the slise of the breast of a Cold Tucky. Screw,
the butler (womb I always detested as a hinsalant hoverbaring
beest), Iiegged me to walk into the Ilujiper Servnts All, and try a
glass of Shuperior Sliatto Margo. Heven Visp, the cuachmiii, eld
out his and, & said, ' Jearaes, I hopes theres no quarxaling betwigst
yoTi & me, & I'll stand a pot of lieer with pleasure'
" The sickofnts I — that wery Cook had split on nie to the House-
keeper ony last week (catchin me priggin some cold tnttle so<ip, of
which I'm remarkable fond). Has for the butler, I always ehonimi-
nated him for his i)recious snears and impercin'c to all us G<>nts wli(»
woar livry (he never would sit in our parlour, faso<jth, nor ilrink
out of our mugs) ; and in regard of Visp — why, it wa.s ony the day
before the wulgar beest hoffercd to fite me, and thrctnd to give me
a good iding if I refused. ' Gentlemen and ladies,' s;iys I, as haughty
as may be, ' there's nothink that I want for that I can't go for to buy
with my hown money, and take at my lodgins in the Halbany, letter
Hex; if I'm ungry I've no need to refresh myself in the kifr/iinrf.'
And so saying, 1 took a dignified ajew of these minnial domestics :
and ascending to my epartment in the 4 pair back, bnished the
powder out of my air, and taking off those hojous li\Ties for hever,
put on a new soot, made for me by Cullin of St. Jeames Street, and
which fitted my manly figger as tight as whacks.
" There was one pusson in the house with womb I was rayther
anxious to evoid a persnal leave-taking— Mary Hann Oi;gins, I
mean — for my art is natural tender, and I can't a1)ide seeing a pore
gal in pane. I'd given her previous the inflimation of my departiu-c
G. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 389
— doing the ausom thing by her at tlie same time — paying her
back 201b., which she'd lent me 6 months before : and paying her
back not only the interest, but I gave her an andsome pair of scissars
and a silver thimbil, by way of boanus. 'Mary Hann/ says I,
* suckmistancies has haltered our rellatif positions in life. I <iuit the
Ser\Tits Hall for ever (for has for your marrying a person in my
rank, that, my dear, is hall gammin), and so I wish you a good-by, my
good gal, and if you want to better yourself lialways refer to me.'
"Mtu-y Hann didn't lixinser my speech (which I think was
remarkable k:iud), but hwked a,t me in the jQice quite wild like, and
bust into somethink betwigst a laugh & a cry, and fell down witii
her ed on the kitching dresser, wliere .she lay imtil her yoimg Missis
rang the dressing-room belL Would you bleave it I She left the
thimbil & things, & my .check for 201b. 10s., on the tiibil when she
went to hanser the belL And now I heard her sobbing and vimper-
ing in her own room nex but one to mine, vith the dore oi>en, j^eraps
expe^-ting I should come in and s;iy good-by. But, as soon as I
was dressed, I cut downstairs, hony desiring Frederick my fellow-
servnt, to feteh me a cabb, and re(iuestb)g jienuiasion to take leaf
of my lady & the iJHnly Ijefore my depaj"tm-e."
• ••«■«•
" How Miss Hendy did hogle me to be sure ! Her Ladyship
told me wliat a sweet ^al she was — hamiable, fond of poetry, plays
the gitter. Then she basked me if I liked l»loud hewties and haubin
hair. Haubin, indeed 1 I don't like au'rits 1 as it must be conlest
Miss Hemly's his — and has for a hlond huty, she has pink I's like
ii Halbino, and her face looks as if it were dipt in a brann nmsL
How .shesqueegcd my .& as she went away '!
" Mary Hann now has haubin air, and a eiunplexion like roses
".inJ liivor)', and I's as blew as Evin,
" I gev Frnderick two and six for fetcliiu the cabb — l)een resolved
to liacl tbe gentlenum in luill tlungs. How he stared ] "
" '2^th. — I am now director of forty-seven Inwlvantageous lines,
and liave jjast hall <lay in the Cittj^. Althougli I've liate or nine
•j;ew sootss of close, and Mr. Cullin fits me hcligant, yet I fansy they
hall iieokonise me. Conshns whispers to me, ' Jeams, you'r hony a
footman in disguise hafter aH' '^
"2S/A.— Been to the Hopra. Masic tol lol. That Lablash is
a wopper at singing. I coodn make out why some people called
out ' Bravo,' some ' Bravar,' and some ' Bravee.' ' Bravee, Lablash/
says I, at which lieverybody laft
390 THE DIARY OF
" I'm in my new stall. I've had new cushings put in, and my
harms in goold on the back. I'm di-essed hall in black, excep a
gold waistcoat and dimiud studds in the embriderd busom of my
shameese. I wear a Camallia Jiponiky iu my button-ole, and have
a double-barreld opera-glas, so big, that I make Timmius, my seend
man, bring it iu the other cabb.
" What an igstronry exabishn that Pawdy Carter is ! If those
four gals are faries, Tellioni is sutnly tlie fairy Queeud. She can
do all that they can do, and somethink they can't. There's an
indiscrible grace about her, and Carlotty, my sweet Carlotty, she
sets my art in flams.
" Ow tliat Miss Hemly was noddin and winkin at me out of
their box on the fourth tear ?
" What linx i's she must av, As if I could mount up there !
« />..S'. — Talking of viouivtincj hup I the St. Helena's walked up
4 per cent, this very day."
" Ind July — Rode my bay oss Desperation in the park. There
was me. Lord George Ringwood (Lord Cinqbars' son). Lord Bally-
bunnion, Honorable Gapting Trap, & sevral bother young swells.
Sir John's eanidge there in coai'se. Mss Hemly lets fall her
booky as I piss, and I'm obleged to get hoff and pick it hup, &
get splashed up to the lus. The gettin on hossback agin is halways
the juice & hall. Just as I was hon. Desperation begins a porring:
the hair with his 4 feet, and sinks down so on his anches, that I'm
blest if I didn't slip hoff agin over his tail ; at which Ballybunnion
& the bother chaps rord with lafter.
" As Bally has istates in Queen's County, IVe put him on the
St. Helena direction. We caU it the ' Great St. Helena Napoleon
Junction,' from Jamestown -to Longwood. The French are taking
it hup heagerly."
" 6fA Jnhj. — Dined to-day at the Lotndon Tavin. with one
of the Welsh b(M-ds of Direction I'm lion. The CwTwmwrw &
Plm-tt-j^ddlywm, with tunnils tlu-ough Snowdin.g and Plinlimming.
"Great nashnallity of course. Ap Shinkin in the chair,. Ap
Llwydd in the vice ; Welsh mutton for dinner ; Welsh iron knives
and forks; Welsh rabbit after dinner; and a Welsh har]3er, be
hanged to him r he went strummint on his hojous hinstrument,
and played a toon piguliarly disagreeble to me.
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 391
" It was Pore Mary Hann. The clarrit holmost clioaked me as
I tried it, and I very nearly wep myself as I thought of her hewtiflc
blue i's. Why ham I always tliinkiu about that gal "? Sasiety is
sasiety, it's lors is irresistabl. Has a man of rank I can't marry a
serving-made. What would Cinqbars and Ballybunnion say ?
" P.S. — I don't like the way that Cincibars has of borroing
money, & halways making me i)!iy the bill. Seven pound six at
the ' Shipp,' Grinnidge, which I dont't grudge it, for Uerbyshire's
brown Ock is the best in Urup ; nine pound three at the * Trafflygar,'
and seventeen pound sixteen and nine at the ' Star and Garter,'
Richmond, with the Countess St Emilion & the Baroness Fron-
tignac. Not one word of French could I speak, and in coHsi|uince
had nothink to do but to make myself halmost sick with heating
hices and desert, while the bothers were chattering and i)arlyv()oing.
" Ha ! I remember going to Griimidge once with Mary Hann,
when we were more happy (after a walk in the park, where we ad
one gingy-beer betwigst us), more appy with tea and a simple srimp
than with hall this spleuder ! "
" Juhj 24. — My first-floor apartmince in the Halbiny is now
kimpletely and chasely furnished — the droring-room with yellow
satting and silver for the chairs and sophies— hemrall green tabbinet
cartings with pink velvet and goold borders & fringes ; a light blue
Haxminster Carpit, embroydered with tulii)s ; tables, secritaires,
cunsoles, &c., as handsome as goold can make them, and candle-
sticks and shandalers of the purest Hormolew.
" The Dining-room furniture is all huak, British Hoak ; round
igspanding table, like a trick in a Pantiminie, iccommadating any
number from 8 to 24 — to which it is my wish to restrict my parties.
Curtings crimsing damask, Chairs crimsing myrocky. Portricks of
my favorite great men decorats the wall — namely, the Duke of
Wellington. There's four of his Grace. For I've remarked that if
you wish to pass for a man of weight and considdration you sliould
holways praise and quote him. I have a valluble one lickwise of
my Queend, and 2 of Prince Halbert — has a Field Martial, and
halso as a privat Gent. I despise the vulgar snears that are daily
hullered aginst that Igsolted Pottentat. Betwigxt the Prins &
the Duke hangs me, in the Uniform of the Ciuqbiir Malitia, of
which Cinqbars has made me Capting.
" The Libery is not yet done.
" But the Bedd-roomb is the Jem of the wliole. If you could
392 THE DIARY OF
but see it ! such a Bedworr ! Ive a Shyval Dressing Glass festooned
with Walanseens Lace, and lighted up of evenings with rose-coloiu-ed
tapers. Goold dressing-case and twilet of Dresding Cheny. My
bed white and gold with curtings of pink and. silver brocayd held up
a top by a goold Qpid who seems always a smilin angilliely hon me,
has I lay with my Ed on my piller hall sarounded with the finest
Mechlin. I have a own man, a yuth under him, 2 groombs, and a
fimmale for the House. I've 7 osses : in cors if I himt this winter
I must increase my ixtablishment.
"jWB. — Heverythink looking well in tlie City. Saint Helenas
12 pm. ; Madagascars, 9| ; Sartron Hill and Rookery Junction,
24 ; and the new lines in prospick equily incouraging."
" People phansy it's hall gaiety and pleasure the life of us
fashnabble gents about townd — But I can tell 'em it's not hall goold
that glitters. They dont know our moniints of hagony, hour ours
of studdy and reflccshun. Tliey little think when they see Jeanies
de la Pluche, Exquire, worliug round in a walce at Halinax with
Lady Hann, or lazaly stepping a kidrill with Latly Jane, iMjring
helegant nothinx into the Countess's hear at dinner, or gallopin his
boss Desperation liover tlie exorcisiu grouml in the Piuk, — they
little think that leader of the tong, seaminkly so reckliss, is a
careworn mann ! and yet so it is.
"Imprymus. I've been ableged to get up all the ecomplish-
ments at double quick, & to apply myself with treemc^njuous energy.
" First, — in border to give myself a hideer of what a gentleman
reely is, I've read the nov\'le of ' Pelham ' six times, and am to go
through it i times mor.
" I practis ridin and the acquirement of * a steady and & a sure
seat across Country ' assijuously 4 times a week, at the Hippyilnun
Riding Grounds. Many's the tumbil I've ad, and the aking Ixjiins
I've suffered from, though I was grinnin in the Park or laliiu at
the Opra.
" Every morning from G till 9, the innabitance of Halbany may
have been surprised to hear the sounds of music ishuiug from the
apartmince of Jeames de la Pluche, Exquire, Letter Hex. It's my
dancing-master. From six to nine we have walces and polkies — at
nine ' mangtiang & dejxitment,' as he calls it ; &; the manner of
hentering a room, complimenting the'ost and ostess & comiK)tting
yourself at table. At nine I henter fh)m my dressing-room (lias to
a party), I make my bow — my master (lie's a Man[uis in France,
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 393
and ad misfortins, being connected with young Lewy Nepoleiini)
reseaves me — I hadwance — speak abowt the weather & tlie topj)ix
of the day in an elegant & cussory manner. Brekfst is enounced
by Fitzwarren, my mann — we precede to the festive bord — com-
plimence is igschanged with the manner of drinking wind, ach-essing
your neighbour, employing your napking & iinger-glas, &c. And
then we fall to brekfst, when I jjrommiss you the Marquis don't eat
like a commoner. He says I'm gettn on very well — soon I shall be
able to inwite people to brekfst, like Mr. Mills, my rivle in Halbany ;
Mr. Macauly (who wrote that sweet book of ballets, ' The Lays of
Hancient Rum ') ; & the great Mr. Rodgers himself."
" The above was wrote some weeks back, I have given brekfsts
sins then, reglar Deshunys. I have ad Earls and Ycounts — Barnits
as many as I chose : and the pick of the Railway world, of which I
form a member. Last Sunday was a grand Fate. I had the Eltet
of my friends : the display was sumptions ; the company reshershy.
Everything that Dellixy could suggest was provided by Gunter.
I had a Countiss on my right & (the Countess of Wigglesbury, that
loveliest and most dashing of Staggs, who may be called the Railway
Queend, as my friend George H is the Railway King) on my
left the Lady Blanche Blucnose, Prince Towrowski, the great Sir
Huddlestone Fuddlestone from the North, and a skoar of the fust
of the fashn. I was in my gloary — the dear Countess and Lady
Blanche was dying with laffing at my joax and fun — I was keei)ing
the whole table in a roar — when there came a ring at my door-bell,
and sudnly Fitzwarren, my man, henters with an air of constanation.
' Theres somebody at the door,' says he, in a visper.
" ' Oh, it's that dear Lady Hemily,' says I, ' and that lazy
raskle of a husband of hers. Trot them in, Fitzwarren ' (for you
see, by this time I had adojjted quite the manners and hcase of the
arristoxy). — And so, going out, with a look of wonder he returned
pi'esently enouncing Mr. & Mrs. Blodder.
" I turned gashly pail. The table — tlie guests — the Countiss —
Towrouski, and the rest, weald round & round before my hagitated I's.
It was my Grandmother and Huncle Bill. She is a washerwoman
at Healing Common, and he — he keeps a wegetable donkey-cart.
" Y, Y hadn't John, the tiger, igscluded them ? He had tried.
But the unconscious, though worthy creeters, adwanced in spite of
him, Huncle Bill bringing in the old lady grinning on his harm !
" Phansy my feelinx."
394
THE DIARY OF
" Immagin when these unfortnat members of my famly hentered
the room : you may phansy the ixtonnishment of the nobil company
presnt. Old Grann looked round the room quite estounded by its
horientle splender, and huncle Bill (pulling ofl' his phautail, & seluting
the company as respeckfly as his wulgar natur would alow) says—
* Crikey, Je<imes, youVe got a better birth here than you ad where
you where in the plush and powder line.' 'Try a few of them
plovers hegSj sir,' I says, whishing, I'm asheamcd to say, that
somethink would choke huncle B : ' and I hope, mam, now
you've ad the kindniss to wisit me, a little refreshment won't be
out of your way.'
" This I said, detummind to put a good fase on the matter ; and
because in herly times I'd rcseaved a great deal of kindniss from the
hold lady, which I should be a roag to forgit. She paid for my
schooling ; she got up my fine liiming gratis ; shes given me many &
many a lb ; and manys the time in appy appy days when me and
Maryhann has taken tea. But i.ever mind that. ' Mam,' says I,
' you must be tired hafter your walk.'
" ' Walk 1 Nonsince, Jeames,' says she ; ' it's Sunday, & I came
in, in the cart.^ ' Blark or green tea, ma'am?' says Fitzwarren,
intarupting her. And I will say the feller showed liis nonce &
good breeding in tliis difficklt moiiiiiik ! for he'd halrcady silenced
huncle Bill, who mouth was now full of muffinx, am, Blowny sausag,
Perrigole pie, and other dellixies.
" 'Wouldn't you like a little somethink in your tea, I\[aui,' says
that sly wagg Cinqbars. '//e knows what I likes,' replies the
hawfle hold Lady, pinting to me (which I knew it very well, having
often seen her take a glass of hojous gin along with her Bohee),
and so I was ableeged to border Fitzwarren to bring round the
licures, and to help my unfortnit rellatif to a bumper of Ollands.
She tost it hoff to the elth of the company, .gi\ing a smack with
her lipps after she'd emtied the glas, which very nearly caused
me to phaint with hagny. But, hu^kaly for me, she didn't igspose
herself much farther : for when Cinqbars was pressing her to take
another glas, I cried out, 'Don't, my Lonl,' on ^which old Grann
hearing him edresscd by his title, cried out, * A Lord I o law ! ' and
got up and made him a cutsy, and coodnt be peswaded to speak
another word. The presents of the noble gent hea^idently made
her uneezy.
" The Countiss on my right and had shownt symtms of ixtream
disgust at the beayviour of my relations, and having called for her
carridge, got up to leave the room, with the most dignified hair. I,
of coarse, rose to conduct her to her weakle. Ah, what a contrast
it was ! There it stood, with stars and garters hall hover the
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 395
paiinels ; the footrain iu peach-coloured tites ; the hosscs worth 3
hundred a-piece ; — and there stood the horrid Unnen-carf, with
' ]\Iary Blodder, Laundress, Ealing, Middlesex,' -wrota on tlie bord,
and waiting till my abandind old ])arint should come out.
"Cinqbars insisted upon helping her in. Sir Huddlcstonc
^ Euddlestone, the great baniet from the North, who, great as he
is, is as stewpid as a howL, looked on, hardly tnisting his goggle
I's as they witnessed the sean. But little lively good naterd La(ly
Kitty Quickset, who was going away with the Countiss, held her
little & out of the <^arridge to me and said, *Mr. De la Pluche, you
are a much better man than I took you to be. Though her Lady-
ship is horrified, & tliough your Grandmother did take gin for
Iweakfixst, don't give her up. No one ever came to harm yet for
honoring their fetlier & mother.'
^' And tliLs was a sort of consolation to me, and I observed that
all the good fellers thought none the waiss of me. Cinqbars said
I was a trmup for sticking up for the old washerwoman ; Lord
Creorge Gills said she should have his linning ; and so they ciit
tlieir joax, and I let them. But it was a great releaf to my mind
when the cart drove hotf,
" Tl>ere was one ])int which my Grandmother obsei"ved, and
which, I muss say, I thought liekwise : '■ Ho, Jeames,' says slie,
* hall those fine ladies iu sattns and velvets is very well, but there's
not one of em can hohl a candle to Mary Hanu.'^'
" Eailway Spec is going on phamusly. You should see how
polite they har at my bankers now ! Sir Paul Pump Aldgate, &
Company. They bow me out of the bank parlor as if I was a
Nybobb. Every Tjody ;says I'm worth half a milliiun. The nuudier
of lines they're putting me upon, is inkuioseavable. Pve jnit Fitz-
warren, my man, \\\)ow. several. Keginald FitzAvarren, Esquire, looks
.sjjloudid in a persi)ectus ; and the raskle owns that be has made two
thowsnd.
" How the ladies, & men too, toiler and flatter me ! If I go
into Lady Biusis hopra box, she makes room for me, wlio ever is
there, and cries out, ' Jo make room for that dear cre^iture ! '
And she compl\Tnents n)e on my taste in musick,or my new Broom-oss,
or the phansy of my weskit, and always ends by asking me for some
shares. Old Lord Bareacrea, as stift'as a poaker, as prowd as Loosyfer,
as poor as Joab_even he condysends to be siwle to the great De
la Pluche, and liegged me at Harthur's, lately, in his sollom pomjius
way, 'to faver him with five minutes' conversation/ I knew what
396 THE DIAEY OF
was coming — application for shares — put him down on my private
list. Wouldn't mind the Scrag End Junction passing through Bare-
acres — hoped I'd come down an(,l shoot there.
" I gave the old humbugg a few shares out of my own pocket.
' There, old Pride/ says I, ' I like to see you down on your knees to
a footman. There, old Pompossaty ! Take fifty pound ; I like to '
see you come cringing and begging for it.' Whenever I see him in
a very public place, I take my change for my money. I digg him
in the ribbs, or slap his padded old shoulders. I call Mm, ' Bare-
acres, my old buck 1 ' and I see him wince. It does my tirt good.
" I'm in low sperits. A disagreeable insadent has just occurred.
Lady Pump, the banker's wife, asked me to dinner. I sat on her
right, of course, with an unconuuon gul ner me, Avith whom I was
getting on in my fassanating way^fuU of lacy ally (as the Mairiuis
says) and easy plesntry. Old Pump, from the end of the table, asked
me to drink shampane ; and on turning to tak the glass I saw Chai'les
Wackles (with womb I'd been implored at Colonel Spurriei"'s house)
grinning over his shoulder at the butler.
" The beest reckonised me. Hixs I A\as jiutting on my palto in
the hall, he came up again : ' Hoio dtj doo^ Jeames ? ' says he, in a
findish visfier. 'Just come out here, Chawles,' says I, ' I've a Avord
for you, my old "boy.' So I beckoned him into Portland Place, with
my pus in my hand, as if I was going to give him a sovaring.
" ' I think you said " Jeames," Chawle.s,' says I, ' and grind at
me at diimer ] '
" ' Why, sir,' says he, ' we're old friends, j'ou know.'
"'Take that for old friendship then,' says I, and I gave him
just one on the uoas, which sent hint down on the pavemint as if
he'd been shot. And mounting myjesticly into my cabb, I left the
rest of the giinning scouudrills to pick him up, & droav to the Clubb."
" Have this day kimpleated a little efair vrith my friend Ge<ipge,
Earl Bareacres, Avhich I trust will Ix? to the udvanti(lge both of self
& that noble gent. Atljiniug the Bareacre propjuity is. a small piece
of land of about 100 acres, called Squallop Hill, igsealing advanta-
geous for the cultiv.ition of sheep, which have been found to have a
pickewlear fine flaviour from, the natur of the gnuss, tyme, heather,
and other hodarefarus; phuits which grows; on that mounting in the
places where the rox and stones don't prevent them. Thistles here
s also remarkable fine, and the land is also devided hotf by liixurient
Stone Hedges — much more usefle and ickonomicle than your quickset
or any of that rubbishing sort of timber : iadeed the sile is of ihax.
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 397
fine iiatiu", tliat timber refuses to grow there altogether. I gave
Bareacres £50 an acre for this land (the igsact premium of my St.
Helena Shares) — a very handsom price for land which never yielded
two shillings an acre ; and very convenient to his Lordship I know,
who had a bill coming due at his Bankers which he had given them.
James de la Pluche, Esquire, is thus for the fust time a landed pro-
priator — or rayther, I should say, is about to reshume the rank &
dignity in the country which his Hancestors so long occupied."
"I have caused one of our inginears to make me a plann of the
Squallop Estate, Diddlesexshire, the property of &c. &c., bordered
on the North by Lord Bareacres's Country ; on the West by Sir
Grauby Growler ; on the South by the Hotion. An Arkytect &
Survare, a young feller of gi-eat emagination, Avomlj we have
employed to make a survey of the Great Caffrarian line, has built
me a beautiful Villar (on paper), Plushton Hall, Diddlesex, the
seat of I. de la P., Esquire. The house is reprasented a handsome
Itallian Structer, imbusmd in woods, and circumwented by beautiful
gardings. Theres a lake in front with boatsful of nobillaty and
musitions floting on its placid sufface — and a curricle is a driving
up to the grand hentrance, and me in it, with Mrs., or perhai)s
Lady Hangelana de la Pluche. I speak adwisedly. I may be
going to form a noble kinexion. I may be (by marridge) going to
unigiit my family once more with Harrystoxy, from which misfortn
has for some sentries separated us. I liave dreams of that sort.
" I've sean sevral times in a dalitifle vishn a sey-ting Erl,
standing in a hattitude of bennydiction, and rattafying my union
with a serting butifle young lady, his daughter. Phansy Mr. or
Sir Jeames and Lady Hangelina de la Pluche ! Ho ! what will
the old washywoman, my grandmother, say? She may sell her
mangle then, and shall too by my honour as a Gent."
" As for Squallop Hill, its not to be emadgind that I was going
to give 5000 lb. for a bleak mounting like that, unless I had some
ideer in vew. Ham I not a Director of the Grand Diddlesex?
Don't Squallop lie amediately betwigst Old Bone House, Single
Gloster, and Scrag End, through which cities our line passes? I
will have 400,000 lb. for that mounting, or my name is not Jeames.
I have arranged a little barging too for my friend the Erl. The
line will pass through a hangle of Bareacre Park. He shall have a
good compensation I promis you ; and then I shall get back th(> -"^000
T lent him. His banker's account, I fear, is in a horrid state."
398 THE DIARY OF
[The Diary now for several days contains particulars of no
interest to the public : — Memoranda of City dinners^
meetings of Directors — fashionable ]iarties mi which Mr.
Jeames figures, and nearly always by the side of his new
friend, Lord Bareacres, whose " pompossaty," as previously
described, seems to have almost entirely subsided.]
We then come to the following : —
"With a prowd and thankfle Art, I copy off this morning's
Gyzett the folloing news : —
" * Commission signed by the Lord Lieutenant of the County of
Diddlesex.
"'James Augustus de la Pluche, Esquire, to be Deputy
Lieutenant.' "
" ' North Diddlesex Regimen*^^ of Yeomanry Cavalr\'.
" * James Augustus de la Pluche, Esquire, to be Captain, vice
Blowhard, promoted.' "
" And his it so? Ham I indeed a landed propriator — a Deppaty
Leftnant — a Capting? May I hatend the Cort of my Sovriug ? and
dror a sayber in my countr>''s defensi I wish the French xvood
land, and me at the head of my squadring on my boss Desparation.
How I'd extonish 'em ! How the gals will stare when they see
me in youniform ! How Mary Hann would — but nDUsince ! I'm
halways thinking of that pore gal. She's left Sir John's. She
couldn't abear to stay after I wont, I've heerd say. I hope she's
got a good place. Any summ of money that would sett her up in
bisniss, or 'make her comfarable, I'd come down with like a mann.
I told my granmother so, who sees her, and rode down to Healing,
on poi'i)ose on Des]iaration to leave a five lb noat in an ant^ylope.
But she's sent it back, sealed with a thimbill."
"Tuesday. — Reseavd the following letter from Lord B ,■
rellatiff to my presntation at Cort and the Youniform I shall wciir
on that hospicious seramony : —
" ' My dear De la Pluche, — I think you had better be pre-
sented as a Deputy Lieutenant. As for the Diddlesex Yeomanry,
I hardly know what the uniform is now. The last time we were
out was in 1803, when the Prince of Wales reviewed us, and when
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 399
we wore French grey jaekets, leathers, red morocco boots, crimson
peHsses, brass hehnets with leopard-skin and a white plume, and
the regulation pig-tail of eigliteen inches. That dress will hardly
answer at present, and nuist be modified, of course. We were called
.the White Feathers, in those days. For my part, I decidedly re-
commend the Deputy Lieutenant.
" ' I shall be happy to present you at the Lev^e and at the
Drawing-room. Lady Bareacres will be in town for the 13th, with
Angelina, wh<^ will be presented on that day. Idy wife has heard
much of you, and is anxious to make your acquaintance.
" ' All my people are ha'/kward with their rents : for Heaven's
sake, my de;ir fellow, lend 1:10 five hundred and oblige yours, very
gratefully, " ' Bareacres.'
'' Xote. — Bareacres may press me about the Depity Leftnant ;
but /V/i for the cavvlerv."
" Jewly will always be a sacrid anniwussary witla me. It was
in that month that I became persnally ecquaintid witli my Prins
and my gracious So^'arink.
" Long before the hospitious event acurd, you may imadgin that
my busm was in no triffling flutter. Sleaplis of niglits, I jiast them
thinking of the great ewent — nr if igsosted natur did clothes my
highlids — the eyedear of my waking thoughts pevaded my slunnners.
Corts, Erls, presntations, Goldstix, gracious Sovarinx mcngling in
my dreembs uuceasnly. I blush to say it (for humin prisumpshn
never surely igseeded that of my Avickcd Avickid vishn), one night I
actially tiremt that Her R. H. the Princess Hallis was grown u]t,
and that there was a Cabinit Counsel to detummin whether her &
was to be bestoad on me or tlie Prins of Sax-Mutfinhausen-Pumpen-
stein, a young Prooshn or Gernung zion of nobillaty. I ask umly
parding for this liordacious ideer.
" I said, in my fommer remarx, that I had detummined to lie
presented to the notus of my reveared Sovaring in a melintary
coschewm. The Court-shoots in which Sivillians attend a Levy are
so uncomming like tlie — the — hvries (ojous wud ! I 8 to jnit it
down) I used to wear before entering sosiaty, that I couldn't abide
the notium of wearing one. My detummination was fumly fixt to
apeer as a Yominry Cavilry Hotfiser, in the galleant youniform of
the North Diddlesex Huzzas.
" Has- that redgmint had not been out sins 1803, I thought
myself quite hotherized to make sr.ch halteratioiis in the youniform
7
400 THE DIARY OF
as shuited the presnt time and my metured and elygint taste.
Pig-tales was out of the question. Tites I wa.s detummined to
mintain. My legg is praps the finist pint about me, and I was
risolved not to hide it under a booshle.
"I phixt on scarUt tites, then, imbridered with goold, as I
hare seen Widdicomb wear them at Hashleys when me and Mary
Hann used to go there. Ninety-six guineas worth of rich gooUi
lace and cord did I have myhandering hall hover those shoperb
inagspressables.
" Yellow marocky Heshn boots, red eels, goold spiire and goold
tassles as bigg as belpulls.
" Jackit — French gray and silver oriuire fasings & cuplis, accord-
ing to the old patn ; belt, green and goold, tight round my i)usn, &:
settin hoff tlie cemetry of my figgar not dis>idrititajusli/.
" A huzza paleese of pupple velvit & sable fir. A sayber of
Dema><kus steal, and a salicrta.«:li (in which I kcp my Odidone and
imbridered pocket aukercher), kimplcat my acootcniionts, which,
without vannaty, was, I flatter m>self, nneak:
" But the crownding triumph w;\s my hat. I coiddnt wear a
cock At. The huzzahs dont use 'em. I wouldnt wear the Imjous
old brass Elmet & Leppardskin. I choas a hat wliich is tlear t<i
the memry of hevery Brittn ; an at which was inwental by my
Feelil Marshle and adord Prins ; an At which vul<f'tr /n-ejiili.* <('•
Joakimj has in vane etempted to run duwn. I chose the H.xlbekt
At. I didn't tell Bareacres of this egsabishn of loilty, intending to
surprise him. The white ploora of the West Diildhsex Yoming»-y
I fixt on the topp of this Shacko, where it spread hunt like 'i
shaving-brush.
"You may be sure that befor the fiitle day arrived, I ilidnt
niglect to practus my part well; and had .^evral nhustles, as
they say.
" This was the way. I used to dress myself in my full togs.
I made Fitzwarren, my boddy ser^'ant, stand at the dor, and figger
as tlie Lord in Waiting. I put ^Irs. Blnker, my huuidres.-*, in my
grand harm chair to reprasent the horgust inisn of my Sovriiig ;
Frederick, my secknd man, standing on her left, in tlie liattjitude
of an illustrus Prins Consort. Hall the Candles were lightcil.
' Captain cle la Pluche, presented hti Ilerl Bareacres,' Fitzwarn-ii,
my man, igsdaimed, as adwancing I matle ol)asins to the Thrown.
Nealin on one nee, I cast a glans of unhuttaral)le loilty towards the
British Crownd, then stepping gracefully Imp (my Diinascus Simiter
loould git betwigst my ligs, in so doink, whirji at fust wsls wcry
disagreeble) — rising hup grasefly, I say, I flung a hx)k of manly
but respeckfl hommitch tords my Prins, and then ellygntly ritreated
C. JEAMES I)E LA PLUCHE 401
backards out of the Roil Presents. I kep my 4 suvnts hup for 4
hours at this gaym the niglit before my presutation, and yet I
■was the fust to be hup with the sunrice. I coodnt sleep that
night. By abowt six o'clock in the morning, I was drest in
my full uniform ; and I didnt know how to pass the interveaning
hours.
"'My Granmother hasnt seen me in full phigg,' says I. 'It
will rejoice that ])ore old sole to behold one of her race so suxesfle
in life. Has I ave read in the novle of " Kennleworth," that the
Herl goes down in Cort dress and extoneshes Hamy Rohsart, I will
go down in all my splender and astownd my old washywonian of a
Granmother.' To make this detummination ; to border my Broom ;
to knock down Frederick the groomb for delaying to bring it ; was
with me tlic wuck of a momint. The next sor as galliant a cavyleer
as hever rode in a cabl», skowering the road to Healing.
" I arrived at the well-known cottich. My huncle was habsent
with the cart : but the dor of the humble eboad stood hopen, and I
])assed through the little garding where the close was hanging out
to dry. My snowy {)l(jom was ableeged to bend under the lowly
porch, as I hentered the apartmiut.
" There was a smell of tea there — there's always a smell of
tea there — the old lady was at her Bohee as usual. I advanced
tords her ; but ha ! ])hansy my extonishment when I sor Mary
Hann !
" I halmost f lintid with himotion. ' Ho, Jeames ! ' (she has said
to me subsquiutly) ' mortial mann never looked so bewtiiie as you
did wdien you arrived on tlie day of the Levy. You were no longer
mortial, you were diwine.
" R ! what little Justas the Hartist has done to my mannly
etractions in the grocc carriketure he's made of me."
• ••••'•
"Nothing, ])erhaps, ever created so great a sensashun as my
hentrance to St. Jcames's, on the day of the Levy. The Tuckish
Hambasdor himself was not so nmch remarked as my shuperb turn
out.
'•'As a MillcTitary man, and a North Diddlesex Huzza, I was
resolved to conie to the ground on hossback. I had Dcsparation
phigd out as a charger, and got 4 Melentery dresses from Ollywell
Street, in w^hic^h I Vlrest my 2 men (Fitzwarren, hout of livry,
woodnt stand it) and 2 fellers from Rimles, where my bosses stand
at livry, I rode up St. Joannes's Street, wath my 4 Hady-
congs— the people huzzaying— the gals waving their handkerchers,
as if I were a Foring Prins— liall the winders crowdid to see me
pass.
402 THE DIARY OF
'■ Tlie guard must have taken me for a Hempror at least, when I
came, for the drums beat, and the guard turned out and sehited me
with j)resented harms.
" What a momink of triumth it was ! I sprung myjestickly
from Desperation. I gav the rains to one of my horderhes, and,
salewting the crowd, I past into the presnts of my Most Gracious
Mrs.
"You, jieraps, may igspect tliat I should narrait at lonth the
suckmstanzas of my hawjince with the British Crown. But I am
not one who would gratafy imjnitfnint curaiosatij. Risjieet for
our reckonized instatewtions is my fust quallaty. I, for one, will dye
rallying round my Thrown.
" Suffise it to say, when I stood in the Horgust Presnts, — when
I sor on the right & of my Himpcrial Soviing that Most Gracious
Prills, to admire womb has been the chief Objick of my life, my
busum was seased witli an imotium which my Ponn rifewses to dix-
cribe — my trembling knees halmost rifused their hottis — I reckleck
nothing mor until I was found phainting in the harms of the Lord
Chamberling. Sir Robert Peal apnd to be standing h\ (I knew our
wuthy Primmier by Punch's picturs of liim, igspccially his ligs), and
he was conwussing with a man of womb I shall say nothink, but that
he is a Hero of 100 fites, aiid heyery file he fit he one. Nead I say
that I elude to Harthur of Wellingting? I introjuiced myself to
these Jents, and intend to improve the equaintance, and pcraps ast
Guvmint for a Barnetcy.
" But there was another pusn womb on this droring-room I fust
had the inagspressable dalite to beold. This was that Star of fashing,
that Sinecure of ncighhouring i's, as Milting observes, the ecomj)lisht
Lady Hangelina Thistlewood, daughter of my exlent frend, John
George Godfrey de Bullion Thistlewood, Earl of Bareacres, Baron
Southdown, in the Peeridge of the United Kingdom, Baron Haggis-
mor3, in Scotland, K.T., Lord Leftnant of the County of Diddlesex,
&c. &c. This young lady was with her Noble Ma, wluii I was
kinducted tords her. And surely never lighted on this hearth a
more delightHe vislm. lu that gallixy of Bewty the Lady Han-
gelina was the fairest Star — in that reath of Loveliness the sweetest
Rosebud ! Pore Mary Hann, my Art's young affeckshns had been
senterd on thee ; but like water through a sivv, her immidge dis-
apeared in a momink, and left me intransd in the presnts of
Hangelina.
"Lady Bareacres made me a myjcstick bow — a grand and
hawflle pusnage her Ladyship is, with a Roming Nose, and an
enawmus jiloom of Hostridge phethers; the fare Hangelina smiled
with a sweetness perfickly bewhildring, and said, ' 0, Mr. De la
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 403
Pluche, I'm so delighted to make your acquaintance. I have often
heard of you.'
" ' Who,' says I, ' has mentioned my insiggnificknt igsistance to
the fair Lady HangeUua, l kel bomire i(istrame jmor mwaiu ! ' (Foi
you see I've not studdied ' Pelham ' for nothink, and have hmt a
few French phraces, without which no Gent of Tashn speaks
now.)
" ' 0/ replies my Lady, ' it was papa first ; and then a very
veri/ old friend of yours.'
" ' Whose name is,' says I, pusht on by my stoopid curaw.«aty
'"Hoggins — Mary Ann Hoggins' — ansurred my Lady (laffing
phit to splitt her little sides). ' She is my maid, Mr. De la Pluche,
and I'm afraid you are a very sad sad person.'
" ' A mere baggytell,' says I. ' In fommer days I icas equainted
with that young woman : but haltered suckmstancies have sep-
parated us for hever, and viong cure is irratrcevably j^erdew else-
where.'
" ' Do tell me all about it. Who is it ? When was it ? We
are all dying to know.'
" ' Since about two minnits, and the Ladys name begins with a
Ha,' says I, looking her tendarly in the face, and conjring up hall
the fixssanations of my smile.
"'Mr. De la Pluche,' here said a gentleman in whiskers and
mistaches standing by, ' hadn't you better take your spurs out ot
the Countess of Bareacres's train'?' — 'Never mind mamma's train'
(said Lady Hangelina) : ' this is the great Mr. De la Pluclie, who is
to make all our fortunes — yours too. Mr. De la Pluche, let me
present you to Captain George Silvcrtop.' — The Capting bent just
one jint of his back very slitely ; I retund his stare with equill
hottiness. ' Go and see for Lady Bareacres's carridge, George,' says
his Lordship ; and vispers to me, ' a cousin of ours — a poor relation.'
So I took no notis of the feller when he came back, nor in my
subsquint visits to Hill Street, where it seems a knife and fork
was laid reglar for this shabby Capting."
"Thusday Xighf. — Hangelina, Hangelina, my pashn for
you hogments daily ! I've bean with her to the Hopra. I sent her
a bewtifle Camellia Jyponiky from Covn Carding, with a re(iuest
she would wear it in her raving Air. I woar another in my butnole.
Evns, what was my sattusfackshn as I leant hover her chair, and
igsammined the house with my glas !
"She was as sulky and silent as pawsble, however — would
404 THE DIARY OF
scarcely speek; although I kijoled her with a thowsnd little
plesntries. I spose it was because that wulgar raskle Silvertop ivood
stay in the box. As if he didn't know (Lady B.'s as deaf as a poast
and counts for nothink) that people sometimes like a tatytaty."
"Friday. — I was sleeples all night. I gave went to my
feelings in the folloring lines^there's a hair out of Balfe's Hopera
that she's fond of I edapted them to that mellady.
" She was in the droring-rooni alone with Lady B. She was
wobbling at the pyanna as I hentered. I flung the convasation
upon mewsick ; said I sung myself (I've ad lesns lately of Signor
Twankydillo) ; and, on her rekwesting me to faver her with some-
think, I bust out with my pom :
•' ' WHEN MOONLIKE OER THE HAZURE SEAS.
" ' When moonlike ore the hazure seas
In soft effulgence swells,
When silver jews and balmy breaze
Bend down the Lily's bells ;
When calm and deap, the rosy sleap
Has lapt your soal in dreems,
R Hangeline ! R lady mine !
Dost thou remember Jeames ?
I mark thee in the Marble All,
Where Englands loveliest shine-
I say the fairest of them hall
Is Lady Hangeline.
My soul, in desolate eclipse,
With recollection teems —
And then I hask, with weeping lips,
Dost thou remember Jeames ?
Away ! I may not tell thee hall
This soughring heart endures
There is a lonely sperrit-call
That Sorrow never cures ;
There is a little little t-tar,
That still above me beams ;
It is the Star of Hope — but ar !
Dost thou remember Jeames ? '
"When I came to the last words, "Dost thou remember
Je-e-e-ams ? ' I threw such an igspresshn of unuttrable tenderuiss
into the shake at the hend, that Hangelina could bare it no more.
• C. JEAMES DE LA TLUCHE 405
A bust of imcumtrollable emotium seized lier. She put her anker-
cher to her face aud left the room, I lieard her latiing and sobbing
histerickly in the bedwor.
" Hangelina^My adored one, My Arts joy ! " . . .
" Bareacres, me, the ladies of the fomly, with their sweet
Southdown, B's eldest son, and George Silvertoj), the shabby
Capting (who seems to git leaf from his ridgmint whenhever he
likes), have beene down into Diddlesex for a few days, enjying the
spawts of the feald there.
" Never having done much in the gunning line (since when a
hinnasent boy, me and Jim Cox used to go out at Healing, and
fdioot sparrers in the Edges with a pistle) — I was reyther dowtfle as
to my suxes as a shot, and practusd for some days at a stoughd
bird in a shooting gallery, which a clia]) histed uj} and down with a
string. I sugseaded in itting the hanninile jiretty well. I Itought
Awker's 'Shooting-Guide,' two double guns at Mantings, and salected
from the French prints of fashn the most gawjus and ellygant
sporttiug ebillyment. A lite blue velvet and goold cap, wear very
much on one hear, a cravatt of yallcr & gi-een imbroidcred patting,
a weskit of the McGrigger plaid, & a jacket of the McWhirter tarlii
(with large motherapurl butns, engraved A\ith coaches & osses. and
sporting subjix), high leather gayters, and niarocky shooting shoes,
was the simple hellymence of my costewm, and I flatter myself
set hoft' my figger in rayther a fayverable way. I tot)k down none
of my own pusnal istablishmint except Fitzwarren, my hone mann,
and my grooms, with Desparation and my curricle osses, and the
Fom'gong containing my dressing-case and close.
" I was heverywhere introjuiced in the county as the great Rail-
road Capi:)itlist, who was to make Diddlesex the most prawsperous
districk of the hempire. The squires })rest forrards to welcome
the new comer amongst 'em ; and we had a Hagricultural Meating
of the Bareacres tenantry, where I made a speech droring tears from
heavery i. It was in compliment to a layborer who had brought
up sixteen children, and lived sixty years on the istate on seven
bobb a week. I am not prowd, though I know my station. I
shook hands with that mann in lavinder kidd gloves. I told
him that the purshuit of hagriculture was the noblist hockujia-
tions of humannaty : I spoke of the yoming of Hengland, who
(under the command of my hancisters) had concpiered at Hadjin-
court & Cressy ; and I gave him a ])air of new velveteen inagsjiress-
ables, with two and six in each pocket, as a reward for tliree score
4o6 THE DIARY OF
years of labor. Fitzwarren, my man, brought them forrards on
a satting cushing. Has I sat down defning chears selewted the
horator; the band struck up 'The Good Old English Gentleman.'
I looked to the ladies galry ; my Hangelina waived her ankasher
and kissd her & ; and I sor in the distans that pore Mary Hann
efected evidently to tears by my ellaquints."
" What an adwance that gal has made since she's been in Lady
Hangelina's company ! Sins she wears her yoimg lady's igsploded
gownds and retired caps and libbings, there's an ellygance abowt
her which is puffickly admarable ; and which, haddid to her own
natral bewty & sweetuiss, creates in my boozum serting sensa-
tiums . . . Shor ! I vmistnH give way to fealinx unwuthy of a
member of the aristoxy. What can she be to me but a mear
rccklection — a vishn of former ears 1
" I'm blest if I didn mistake her for Hangelina herself yesterday.
I met her in tlie grand Collydore of Bareacres Castle. I sor a lady in
a melumcolly Iiattatude gacing outawinder at tlie setting sun, which
was eluminating the fair parx and gardings uf the hancient demean.
" ' Bewchus Lady Hangelina,' says I — ' A penny for your
Ladyship's thought,' says I.
" ' Ho, Jeames ! Ho, Mr. De la Pluche ! ' hansered a well-known
vice, with a haxnt of sadnis which went to my art. * You know
what my thoughts are, well enough. I was tliinking of happy
hap}»y old times, when both of us were poo — jioo — oor,' says Mary
Hann, busting out in a phit of crying, a thing I can't ebide. I
took her and and tried to cumft her : I pinted out the dittrents
of our sitawashns ; igsplained to her that pro])i)aty has its jewties as
well as its previlet(;hes, and that my juty clearly was to marry into
a noble famly. I kep on talking to her (she sobbing and going
hon hall the time) till Lady Hangelina herself came up — ' The real
Siming Fewer,' as they say in the play.
" There they stood together — them two young women. I don't
know which is the ansamest. I coodn help comparing them ; and
I coo(hit help comparing myself to a certing Hanninde I've read of,
that found it ditticklt to make a choice betwigst - Bundles of A."
" That ungrateful beest Fitzwarren — my oan )nan — a feller I've
maid a fortune for — a feller I give 100 lb. ])er hannum to ! — a low
bred Wallydyshaniber ! He must be thinking of falling in love
too ! and treating me to his imperence.
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 407
" He's a great big atlilatic feller — six foot i, with a pair of
black whiskers like air-brushes — with a look of a Colonel in the
harmy — a dangerous pawmpus-spoken raskle I warrant you. I was
coming onie from shuiting this hafternoon — and passing through
Lady Hangelina's liour-garding, who should I see in the summer-
ouse, but Mary Hann pretending to em an ankyshr and Mr, Fitz-
warren paying his court to her?
" ' You may as well have me, Mary Hann,' says he. ' I've
saved money. We'll take a public-house and 111 make a lady of
you. Fm not a ](urse-proud ungTateful fellow like Jeames — who's
such a snob ('such a sxobb ' was his very words!) that I'm
ashamed to wait on him — who's the laughing stock of all the gentry
and the housekeeper's room too — try a. man,' says he — 'don't be
taking on about such a huml)ug as Jeames.'
" Here young Joe the keaper's sun, who was carrying my bagg,
bust out a laffing — thereby causing Mr. Fitzwarren to turn round
and intarupt this polite couvasation.
" I was in such a rayge. ' Quit the building, Mary Hann,' says
I to the young woman ; " and you, Mr. Fitzwarren, have the good-
ness to remain.'
" ' I give you warning,' roars he, looking black, blue, yaller — all
the colours of the ranebo.
" ' Take off your coat, you imjjerent hungi-ateful scouudrl,'
says I.
" ' It's not your livery,' says he.
" ' Peraps you'll understand me, when I take off my own,'
says I, unljuttoning the motherapurls of the MacWhirter tartn.
' Take my jackit, Joe,' says I to the boy, — and i)ut myself in a
hattitude about which there was no mistayk."
• •••••
" He's 2 stone heavier than me — and knows the use of his
ands as well as most men; but in a fite, hloocVs everythink ; the
Snobb can't stand before the gentleman ; and I should have killed
him, I've little doubt, but they came and stopt the fite betwigst us
before Ve'd had more than 2 rounds.
" I punisht the raskle tremenjusly in that time, though ; and
I'm writing this in my own sittn-room, not being able to come
down to dinner on account of a black-eye I've got, which is sweld
up and disfiggrs me dreadfl."
"On account of the hoffle black i which I reseaved in my
rangcounter with the hinfinms Fitzwarren, I kep my roomb for
4o8 THE DIARY OF
sevral days, Avitli the rose-coloured curtings of the apartmint closed,
so as to form an agreeable twilike ; and a light-bloo sattin shayd
over the injard pheacher. My woons was thus made to become me
as much as pawsable ; and (has the Poick well obserres ' Nun but
the Brayv desuvs the Fare ') I cumsoled myself in the sasiaty of the
ladies for my tempory disfiggarment.
" It was Mary Hann who summind the House and put an end
to ray phistycoughs with Fitzwarren. I licked him and bare him
no mallis : but of corse I dismist the iuiperent scoundrill from my
suvvis, apinting Adolphus, my page, to his i)ost of contidenshl'e
Valley.
" Mary Hann and her young and lovely Mrs. kep paying me
continyoul visits during my retiremint. Lady Hangelina was halways
sending me messidges by her : while my exlent friend, Lady Bare-
acres (on the contry), was always sending me toakns of affeckshn
by Hangelina. Now it was a coolin hi-lotium, inwented by herself,
that her Ladyship woidd perscribe — then, agin, it would be a booky
of flowers (my favrit polly hanthuses, pellagoniums, and jyponikys),
which none but the fair &s of Hangelina could dispose about the
chamber of the hinvyleed. Ho ! those dear mothers ! when they
wish to find a chans for a galliant young feller, or to ixtablish their
dear gals in life, what awpertunities they ivill give a man ! You'd
have phansied I was so hill (on account of my black hi) that I
couldnt live exsep upon chicking and spoon-meat, and jellies, and
blemonges, and that I couldnt eat the latter dellixies (which I
ebomminate onternoo, prefurring a cut of beaf or nuittn to hall the
kickpshaws of France) unless Hangelina brought them. I et 'em,
and sacrafised myself for her dear sayk.
"I may stayt here that in privit convasations with old Lord
B. and his son, I had mayd my proposals for Hangelina, and was
axepted, and hoped soon to be made the appiest gent in Hengland.
" ' You must break the matter gently to her,' said her hexlant
father. ' You have my warmest wishes, my dear Mr. De la Pluche,
and those of my Lady Bareacres ; but I am not — not quite certain
about Lady Angelina's feelings. Girls are wild and romantic.
They do not see the necessity of prudent establishments, and I
have never yet been able to make Angelina understand the embar-
rassments of her family. These silly creatures prate about love
and a cottage, and despise advantages which wiser heads than
theirs know how to estimate.'
" ' Do you mean that she aint fassanated by me 1 ' says I, biu-st-
ing out at this outrayjus ideer.
" ' She will be, my dear sir. You have already iileased her,
— your admirable manners must succeed in captivating her, and
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 409
a fond father's wislies will be crowned on the day in which you
enter our family.'
" ' Recklect, gents,' says I to the 2 lords, — ' a barging's a barging
— I'll pay lioff Soutliddwn's Jews, when I'm his brother. As a
straynger' — (this I said in a sarcastieklo toan) — 'Iwouldnt take
such a lihhaty. When Y\\\ your suniidor I'll trel)le the valyou of
your estayt. I'll make your incumbrinces as right as a trivit, and
restor the ouse of Bareacres to its herly splender. But a j)ig in
a poak is not the way of transacting bisniss imployed by Jcames
De la Pluche, Esquire.'
" And I had a right to si)eak in this way. I was one of the
greatest scrip-holders in Hengland ; and calclatcd on a kilossle
fortune. All my shares was rising inunence. Every jxiast brot
me noose that I was sevral thowsands richer than the day befor.
I was detummind not to reerlize till the proper time, and then to
buy istates ; to found a new family of Delapluches, and to alie
myself with the aristoxy of my country.
" These pints I reprasented to pore Mary Hann hover and hover
agin. ' If you'd been Lady Hangelina, my dear gal,' says I, ' I
would have married you : and why don't I % Because my dooty
prewents me. I'm a marter to dooty ; and you, my pore gal,
must cumsole yorself wdth that ideer.'
" There seemed to be a consperracy, too, between that Silvertop
and Lady Hangelina to drive me to the same pint. 'What a
plucky fellow you were, Pluche,' says he (he was rayther more
familliar than I liked), ' in your tight with Fitzwarren ! — to engage
a man of twice your strength and science, though you were sure
to be beaten ' (this is an etroashous folsood : I should have finnisht
Fitz in 10 minuits), 'for the sake of pore Mary Hann ! That's a
generous fellow. I like to see a man risen to eminence like you,
having his heart in the right place. When is to be the marriage,
my boy ? '
" ' Capting S.,' says I, ' my marridge consunns your most umble
servnt a precious sight more than you ; ' — and I gev him to under-
stand I didn't want him to put in hi& ore — I wasn't afrayd of his
whiskers, I prommis you, Capting as he was. I'm a British Lion,
I am : as brayv as Bonypert, Haunil)le, or Holivcr Crummle, aiul
would face bagnits as well as any Evy drigoon of 'em all.
"Lady Hangelina, too, igspawstulated in her harttl way. 'Mr.
De la Pluche (seshee), why, why press this point? You can't
sujipose that you will be happy with a person like me ? '
" ' I adoar you, charming gal ! ' says I. ' Never, never go to
say any such thing.'
'"You adored Mary Ann first,' answers her Ladj-ship ; 'you
4IO THE DIARY OF
can't keep your eyes off her now. If any man courts her you
grow so jealous that you begin heating him. You will break the
girl's heart if you don't marry her, and perhaps some one else's —
but you don't mind that.^
" * Break yours, you adoarible creature ! I'd die first ! And as
for Mary Hann, she will git over it ; people's arts ain't broakn so
easy. Once for all, suckmstances is changed betwigst me and er.
It's a pang to part with her ' (says I, my fine hi's filling with tears),
' but jwirt from her I must.'
" It was curius to remark abowt that singlar gal, Lady
Hangelina, that melumcolly as she was when she was talking to
me, and ever so disml — yet she kep on laffing every minute like the
juice and all.
" ' What a sacrifice ! ' says she ; ' it's like Xapoleon giving up
Josephine. "What anguish it must cause to your susceptible heart ! '
" ' It does,' says I—' Haguies ! ' (Another laff.)
'"And if— if I don't accept you — you will invade the States
of the Emperor my papa, and I am to be made the sacrifice and
the occasion of peace between you I '
" ' I don't know what you're eluding to about Joseyfeen and
Hemperors your Pas ; but I know that your Pa's estate is over
hedaneers morgidged ; that if some one don't elp him, he's no better
than an old pawper ; that he owes me a lot of money ; and that I'm
the man that can sell liim up boss & foot: or set him up agen —
that's wliat I know. Lady Hangelina,' says I, with a hair as much
as to say, * Put that in your Ladyship's pipe and smoke it.'
"And so I left her, and nex day a serting fashnable paper
enounced —
" ' Marriage in High Life. — "We hear that a matrimonial
union is on the tapia between a gentleman who has made a colossal
fortune in the Railway "Worltl, and the only daughter of a noble
earl, whose estates are situated in D-ddles-x. An early day is
fixed for this interesting event.' "
" Contry to my expigtations (but when or ow can we reckn
upon the fealinx of wimming ?) Mai-y Hann ilidn't seem to be much
efected by the hideer of my marridge with Hangelinar. I was
rayther disapinted peraps that the tickle young gal reckumsiled
herself so easy to give me hup, for we Gents are creeeliei^ of
vannaty after all, as well as those of the hopsit seeks : and betwigst
you and me there zvas mominx when I almost whisht that I'd
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 411
been borne a Myommidn or Turk, wlieii the Lor would have per-
mitted me to marry both these sweet beiiix, wherehas I was now
condemd to be appy with ony one.
" Meanwild everythink went on very agreeable betwigst nie and
my defianced bride. When we came back to town I kemishnd Mr.
Showery the great Hoctionear to look out for a town manshing
sootable for a gent of my quallaty. I got from the Erald Hoffis
(not the Mavming Erald — no no, I'm not such a Mough as to go
there for ackrit infamation) an account of my fandy, my harms
and })edigiy.
" I bordered in Long Hacre, three splendid equipidges, on which
my arms and my adored wife's was drawn & quartered ; and I got
portricks of me and her jjaynted by the sellabrated Mr. Shalloon,
being resolved to be the gentleman in all things, and knowing that
my character as a man of fashn wasn't eonipleat unless I sat to that
dixtinguished Hartist. My likenis I presented to Hangelina. It's
not considered flattring — and though she i)arted with it, as you will
hear, mighty willingly, there's one young lady (a thousand times
handsomer) tliat values it as the happle of her hi.
"Would any man beleave that this picture was soald at my
sale for about a twenty-fifth part of what it cost me"? It was
bought in by Maryhann, though : ' dear Jeames,' says she, often
(kissing of it & pressing it to her art), ' it isn't ^ ansum enough
for you, and hasn't got your angellick smile and tlie igspreshn of
your dear dear i's.'
" Hangelina's pictur was kindly presented to me by Countess
B., her mamma, though of coarse I paid for it. It was engraved
for the ' Book of Bewty ' the same year.
" With such a perfusion of ringlits I should scarcely have known
her — but the ands, feat, and i's, was very like. She was i)ainted
in a gitar supposed to be singing one of my little melladies ; and
her brother Southdown, who is one of the New England poits, wrote
the follering stanzys about her : —
"LINES UPON MY SISTERS PORTRAIT.
"by the lord southdown.
" The castle towers of Bareacres are fair upon the lea,
Where the cliffs of bgnny Diddlesex rise up from out the sea:
I stood upon the donjon keep and view'd the country o'er,
I saw the lands of Bareacres for fifty miles or more.
I stood upon the donjon keep— it is a sacred place, —
Where floated for eight hundred years the banner of my race ;
Argent, a dexter sinople, and gules an azure field,
'i here ne'er was nobler co2:nisance on knightly warrior's shield.
412 THE DIARY OF
The first time England saw the shield 'twas round a Norman neck,
On board a ship from Valery, King William was on deck.
A Norman lance the colours wore, in Hastings' fatal fray —
St. Willibald for Bareacres ! 'twas double gules that day !
Heaven and sweet St. Willibald ! in many a battle since
A loyal-hearted Bareacres has ridden by his Prince !
At Acre with Plantagenet, with Edward at Poitiers,
The pennon of the Bareacres was foremost on the spears !
'Twas pleasant in the battle-shock to hear our war-cry ringing :
O grant me, sweet St. Willibald, to listen to such singing !
Three hundred steel-clad gentlemen, we drove the foe before us,
And thirty score of British bows kept twanging to the chorus !
knights, my noble ancestors, and shall I never hear
Saint Willibald for Bareacres through battle ringing clear?
I'd cut me off this strong right hand a single hour to ride,
And strike a blow for Bareacres, my fathers, at your side !
Dash down, dash down, yon Mandolin, beloved sister mine !
Those blushing lips may never si.ig the glories of our line :
Our ancient castles echo to the clumsy feet of churls,
The spinning Jenny houses in the mansion of our Earls.
Sing not, sing not, my Angeline ! in days so base and vile,
'Twere sinful to bo happy, 'twere .sacrilege to smile.
I'll hie me to my lonely hall, and by its cheerless hob
I'll muse on other days, arid wish — and wish I were — A SxOB."
*' All young Hengland, I'm toW, considers the poim l^ewtifle.
They're always writing about battleaxis and shivvlery, these young
chaps ; but the ideer of Southdown in a shoot of amier, and his
cuttin hotf his ' strong right hand,' is rayther too good ; the feller is
about 5 fit hi, — a-s ricketty as a baV>])v, with a vaist like a gal; and
though he may have the art and curridge of a Bengal tyger, I'd
back my smallest c^b-boy to lick him, — that is if I ac? a cab-boy.
But io I mt/ cab-days is over.
" Be still my hagnizing Art ! I now am about to hunfoald the
dark payges of the Istry of my life ! "
" Isiy friends ! you've seen me ither2 in the full kerear of Fortn,
prawsprus but not hover prowd of my ]miwsperraty ; not dizzy
though mounted on the haypix of Good. Luck — feasting hall the
great (like the Grood Old Henglish Gent in the song, which he has
been my moddle and igsample tlirough life), but not forgitting the
small — No, my boa\-viour to my granmother at Healing sliows that.
I bot her a new donkey cart (what the French call a cart-blansh)
and a handsome set of peggs for anging up her linning, and treated
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 413
Huiicle Bill to a new shoot of close, which he ordered in St. Jeanies's
Street, much to the estonishment of my Snyder there, namely an
ollitf-green velvyteen jackit and smalclose, and a crinisn plush
weskoat with glas-buttns. These pints of geuarawsity in my dis-
posishn I never should have eluded to, but to show that I an;
naturally of a noble sort, and have that kind of galliant carndge
A\ hich is equel to either good or bad forting.
" What was the substns of my last chapter ? In that every-
think was prepayred for my marridge — the consent of the parents
of my Hangelina was gaynd, the lovely gal herself was ready (as I
thought) to be led to Himing's halter — the trooso M-as bordered —
the weddin dressis were being jihitted hon — a weddinkake weighing
half a tunn was a gettn reddy by Mesurs Gunter, of Buckley Square :
there was such an account for Shantilly and Honitou laces as would
have staggerd hennyboddy (I know tliey did the Conmiissioner
when I came hup for my Stithkit), and has for Injar-shawls I bawt
a dozen sich fine ones as never was given away — no not by His^^
Iness the Injan Prins Juggernaut Tygore. The juils (a pearl and
dimind shoot) were from the establishmint of Mysurs Storr and
Mortimer. The honey-moon I intended to pass in a continentle
excussion, and was in treaty for tlie ouse at Halberd-gate (hopsit
Mr. Hudson's) as my town-house. I waited to cumclude the putchis
untie the Share-Markit which was rayther deprest (oing I think not
so much to the atax of the misrabble Times, as to the prodidjr.s
flams of the Morning Erald) was restored to its elthy toan. I
wasn't going to part with scrij) which was 20 i)rimmiiun at 2 or 3 ;
and bein confidnt that the Markit would rally, had bought very
largely for the two or three new accounts.
" This will explane to those unfortiught traydsmen to womb I
gayv orders for a large igstent ow it was that I couldn't pay tlieir
accounts. / am the sojJ of onour — but no gent can pay when he
has no money : — it's not my fiuilt if that old screw Lady Bareacres
cabbidged three hundred yards of lace, and kep back 4 of the biggest
diminds and seven of the largist Injar Shawls — it's not my fault if the
tradespeople didn git their goods back, and that Lady B. declared
they were lost. I began the world afresh with the close on my
back, and thirteen and six in money, concealing nothink, giving up
heverythink, Onist and undismayed, and though beat, with pluck in
me still, and ready to begin agin.
" Well — it was the day before that apinted for my Ionium. The
Riiuidove steamer was lying at Dover ready to carry us hoff. The
Bricile apartmince had been bordered at Salt Hill, and subsquintly
at Balong sur ]Mare — the very table cloth was laid for the weddn
brexfst in 111 Street, and the Bride's Pdght Keverend Huncle, the
414 THE DIARY OF
Lord Bishop of Bullooksmithy, had arrived to sellabrayt our unium.
All the papers were full of it. Crowds of the fiishiiable world weut
to see the trooso, and admire the Carridges in Long Hacre. Our
travleng charrat (light blco lined with pink satting, and vermillimn
and goold weals) was the hadmaration of all for quiet ellygns. We
were to travel only 4, viz., nie, my Lady, my vally, and Mary Hann
as famdyshamber to my Hangelina. Far from oposing our match,
this worthy gal had quite givn into it of late, and laught and joakt,
and enjoyd our plans for the fewter igseedinkly.
" I'd left my lovely Bride very gay the night l^efore — aving a
multachewd of bisniss on, and Stockbrokers' and bankers' accounts
to settle : atsettrey atsettrey. It was layt before I got these in
border : my sleap was fcavrish, as most mens is when they are going
to be marrid or to be hanged. I took my chocklit in bed about one :
tried on my wedding close, and found as uslde tliat tliey became me
exceedingly.
" One thing distubbed my .Tiind — two weskts had been sent
home. A blush-white .matting and gold, and a kinary coloured
tabbinet imbritlered in silver : which should I wear on the hos-
picious day 1 This hadgitated and ]ierj)lext me a good deal. I
detummined to go down to Hill Street and cum^jult the Lady whose
wishi.s were henceforth to lie my Jinlllimll : and wear whichever she
phixt on.
"There was a great bussel and distubbans in the Hall in 111
Street which I etribyouted to the ejiroaching event. The old jiorter
stared most uncommon when I kem in — the footman who was to
enounce me laft I thought — I wa.s going upstairs —
" ' Her Ladyship's not — not at homel says the man ; 'and my
Lady's hill in Ited.'
" ' Git lunch,' says I, ' I'll wait till Lady Hangelina returns.'
" At this the feller loox at me for a momint with his cheex blown
out like a blaildcr, and then busts out in a reglar gaftau I the jiorter
jined in it, the iiiipidcnt old ra.skle : and Thoma.s says, slai>jiing his
and on his thy, without the least respect — * / my, Hiifij, old boy !
isn't this a good un ? '
" ' Wadyermean, you infunnlc scoundrel,' says I, ' hollaring and
iatting at me 1 '
" ' Oh, here's Miss Mary Hanu coming up,' says Thomas, * ask
her^ — and indeed there came my little Mary Hann tripping down
the stairs — her &s in her pockits ; and when she saw me, she began
to blush and look hod & then to grin too.
" ' In the name of Imperence,' says I, rushing on Thomas, and col-
laring him fit to throttle liim — 'no raskle of a rtnnk> shall insult ;«<>,'
and I sent him staggerin up against the porter, and both of 'em into
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 415
the hall-chair with a llopp — when Mary Hanu, jumping down, says,
' James! Mr. Plush ! read this'— and she pulled out a billy doo.
" I reckanized the and-writing of Hangelina."
"Deseatful Hangelina's billy ran as follows : —
" ' I had all alony hoped that you would have relinquished pre-
tensions which you must have seen were so disagreeable to me ; and
have spared me the painful necessity of the step which I am com-
pelled to take. For a long time I could not believe my parents were
serious in wishing to sacrifice me, but have in vain entreated them
to spare me. I cannot undergo the shame and misery of a union
with you. To the very last hour I remonstrated in vain, and only
now anticipate, liy a few hours, my departure from a home from
which they themselves were about to expel me.
" ' When you receive this, I shall be united to the person to
whom, as you are aware, my heart was given long ago. My parents
are already informed of the step I have taken. And I have my
own honour to consult, even before their benefit : they will forgive
me, I hope and feel, before long.
" ' As for yourself, may I not hope that time will calm your
exquisite feelings too 1 I leave Mary Ann behind me to console
you. She admires you as you deserve to be admired, and with a
constancy which I entreat you to try and imitate. Do, my dear Mr.
Plush, try — for the sake of your sincere friend and admirer, A.
"'P..S'. — I. leave the wedding-dresses behind for her: the
diamonds are beautiful, and will become Mrs. Plush admirably.'
" This wa.s hall ! — Confew.shn ! And there stood the footmen snig-
gerin, and that hojus Mary Hann half a cryin, half a latfing at me !
'Who has she gone hoft'with'?' rors I; and Mary Hann (smiling with
one hi) just touched the to]) of one of the Johns' canes who was goin
out with the noats to put lioff the brekfst. It was Silvertop then !
" I bust out of the house in a stayt of diamoiuacal igsitement !
" The stoary of that ilorpmint / have no art to tell. Here it is
from the Morning Taller newspaper : —
"ELOPEMENT IN HIGH LIFE.
"the oxly authentic account.
" The neigh) )ourhood of Berkeley Square, and the whole fashion-
able world, has been thrown into a state of the most painful excite-
8
4i6 THE DIARY OF
ment by an event which has just placed a noble family in great
perplexity and affliction.
" It has long been known among the select nobility and gentry
that a marriage was on the tapis between the only daughter of a
Noble Earl, and a Gentleman whose rapid fortunes in the railway
w'orld have been the theme of general remark. Yesterday's i)aper,
it was supposed, in all human probability would have contained an
account of the marriage of James De la Pl-che, Esq., and the
Lady Angehna , (laughter of the Right Honourable the Earl
of B-re-cres. The prejiarations for this ceremony were complete :
we had the pleasure of inspecting the rich trousseau (prepared by
Miss Twiddler, of Pall Mall) ; the magnificent jewels from the
establishment of Messrs. Storr and Mortimer; the elegant marriage
cake, wliich, already cut u]) and portioned, is, alas ! not destined to
be eaten by the friends of ilr. De la Pl-che ; the superb carriages,
and magnificent liveries, which had been ]>rovided in a style of the
most lavisli yet tasteful sumptuosity. The Right Reverend tlie
Lord Bisliop of BuUoeksmithy liad arrived in town to celebrate tlu
nuptials, and is staying at Mivart's. What must have been the
feelings of that venerable jn-elate, what tliose of the agonised and
noble parents of tl\e Lady Angelina — when it was discovered, on
the day j)revious to the wedding, that her Ladyship liad fleil the
paternal mansion ! To ^he venerable Bishop the news of lus noble
niece's dejiarture might have been fatal : we have it from the waiters
of Mivart's that his Lordship was about to indulge in the refresh-
ment of turtle soup when the news was brought to him ; immediate
apoplexy was ai)prehended ; but Mr. Macaiui, the celebrated surgeon
of Westminster, was luckily passing through Bond Street at tlic
time, and being i)roniptly called in, bled and relieved the exemplary
patient. His Lordship will return to the Palace, BuUoeksmithy,
to-morrow,
'• The frantic agonies of the Right Honourable the Earl of Bare-
acres can be imagined by every paternal heart. Far be it from us
to disturb — impossible is it for us to describe their noble sorrow.
Our reporters have made inquiries every ten min\ites at the Earl's
mansion in Hill Street, regarding the lioalth of the Xoble Peer and
his incomparal)le Countess. They have been received with a nule-
ness which we deplore but jianlon. One wa.s threatened with a
cane; another, in the ])ursuit of his official in(|uiries, was saluted
with a pail of water; a third gentleman was menaced in a pugilistic
manner by his Lordship's porter ; but being of an Irish nation, a
man of spirit and sinew, and ^Master of Arts of Trinity College,
Dublin, the gentleman of our establishment confronted the menial,
and having severely beaten him, retired to a neighbouring hotel
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 417
mucli frequented liy the domestics of the surrounding nobility, and
there obtained what we beUeve to be the most accurate particulars
of this extraordinary occurrence.
" George Frederick Jennings, third footman in the establish-
ment of Lord Bareacres, stated to our emploiie as follows : — Lady
Angelina had been ijromised to Mr. De la Pluche for near six weeks.
She never could abide that gentleman. He was the laughter of all
the servants' hall. Previous to his elevation he had himself been
engaged in a domestic capacity. At that period he had ofiered
marriage to Mary Ann Hoggins, who was living in the quality of
ladies'-maid in the family where Mr. De la P. was employed. Miss
Hoggins became subsequently lady's-maid to Lady Angelina — the
elopement was arranged between those two. It was IMiss Hoggins
who delivered the mite which informed the bereaved Mr. Plush of
his loss.
" Samuel Buttons, page to the Ptight Honourable the Earl of
Bareacres, was ordered on Friday afternoon at eleven o'clock to
fetch a cabriolet from the stand in Davies Street. He selected the
cab No. 19,796, driven by George Gregory Macarty, a one-eyed
man from Clonakilty, in the neighbourhood of Cork, Ireland {of
xvhom more anon), and waited, according to his instructions, at the
corner of Berkeley Square, with his vehicle. His young lady,
accompanied by her maid. Miss Mary Ann Hoggins, carrying a
bandbox, presently arrived, and entered the cab with the box : wliat
were the contents of that box we have never been able to ascertain.
On asking her Ladyship whether he should order the cab to drive
in any particular direction, he Avas told to drive to Madame Crino-
line's, the eminent milliner in Cavendish Square. On requesting to
know whether he should accompany her Ladyship, Buttons was
peremptorily ordered by ]\Iiss Hoggins to go about his business.
" Having now his clue, our reporter instantly went in search of
cab 19,796, or rather the driver of that vehicle, who was discovered
with no small difficulty at his residence, Whetstone Park, Lincoln's
Inn Fields, where he lives with his family of nine children. Having
received two sovereigns, instead doubtless of two shillings (his
regular fore, by the way, would have been only one-and-eightpence),
]\Iacarty had "not gone out with the cab for the two last days,
passing them in a state of almost ceaseless intoxication. His replies
were very incoherent in answer to the queries of our rei)orter ; and,
had not that gentleman himself been a compatriot, it is jn-obable he
would have refused altogether to satisfy tlie curiosity of the public.
"At Madame Crinoline's, Miss Hoggins quitted the carriage,
and a gentleman entered it. Macarty describes him as a very
clever gentleman (meaning tall) with black moustaches, Oxford-gr-ey
2 H
4i8 THE DIARY OF
trousers, and black hat and a pea coat. He drove the couple to the
Euston Square Station, and there left them. How he employed
his time subsequently we have stated.
"At the Euston Square Station, the gentleman of our estab-
lishment learned from Frederick Corduroy, a porter there, that a
gentleman answering the above description had taken places to
Derby. We have desj)atched a confidential gentleman thither, by
a special train, and shall give his report in a second edition.
"SECOND EDITION.
"(from our reporter.)
" Newcastle : Monday.
" I am just arrived at this ancient to-mi, at the ' Elephant and
Cucumber Hotel' A party travelling under the name of Mr. and
Mrs. Jones, the gentleman wearing moustaches, and having with
them a blue bandliox, arrived bv the train two hours before me,
and have posted onwards to Scotland. I have ordered four horses,
and write this on the hind boot, as they are putting to.
"THIRD EDITION.
" Gretna Green : Monday Evening.
"The mystery is at length solved. Tliis afternoon, at four
o'clock, the Hymeneal Blacksmith, of Gretna Green, celebrated the
marria.gfe between George Granby Silvertop, Esq., a Lieutenant in
the ISOtli Hussars, third son of General John Silvertop, of Silvertop
Hall, Yorkshire, and Lady Emily Silvertop, daughter of the late
sister of the present Earl of Bareacres, and tlie Lady Angelina
Amelia Arethusa Anaconda Alexandrina Alicompania Annemaria
Antoinetta, daughter of the last-named Earl Bareacres."
{Here follows a long extract from the Marriage Service in the
Book of Common Prayer, which zvas not read on the occasion,
and need not be repeated here.)
" After the ceremonj-, the young couple partook of a slight
refreshment of sherry and water— the former the Captain pro-
nounced to be execrable; and, having myself tasted some glasses
from the very same bottle with which the young and noble pair
were served, I must say I think the Captain was ratlier hard upon
mine host of the ' Bagpipes Hotel and Posting-House,' whence they
instantly proceeded. I follow them as soon as the horses have fed!^
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 419
"FOURTH EDITION.
"shameful treatment of our reporter.
" Whistlebinkie, N.B. : Mondaij, midnight.
" I arrived at this romantic little villa about two hours after the
newly-married couple, whose progress I have the honour to trace,
reached Whistlebinkie. They have taken up their residence at the
' Cairngorm Arms ' — mine is at the other hostelry, the ' Clachan
of Whistlebinkie.'
" On driving up to the ' Cairngorm Arms,' I found a gentleman
of military appeorance standing at the door, and occupied seemingly
in smoking a cigar. It was very dark as I descended from my
carriage, and the gentleman in question exclaimed, ' Is it you,
Southdown, my boy 1 You have come too late ; unless you are come
to have some sui)per;' or words to that effect. I ex])lained that
I was not the Lord Viscount Southdown, and politely apprised
Captain Silvertop (for I justly concluded the individual before me
could be no other) of his mistake.
" ' Who the deuce ' (the Captain used a stronger term) ' are you,
then 1 " said Mr. Silvertop. 'Are you Baggs and Tapewell, my uncle's
attorneys'? If you ai'e, you have come too late for the fair.'
" I briefly explained that I Avas not Baggs and Tapewell, but
that my name was J-ms, and that I was a gentleman connected
with the establishment of the Morning Tailer newspaper.
" ' And what has brought you here, Mr. Morning Tatler % '
asked my interlocutor, rather roughly. My answer was frank —
that the disappearance of a noble lady from the house of her friends
had caused the greatest excitement in the metropolis, and that my
employers were anxious to give the jiublic every particular regarding
an event so singular.
" ' And do you mean to say, sir, that you have dogged me all
the way from London, and that my family affairs are to be published
for the readers of the Morning Tathr newspaper % The Morning
Tatler be ' (the Captain here gave utterance to an oath which
I shall not repeat), 'and you too, sir; you impudent meddling
scoundrel.'
" ' Scoundrel, sir ! ' said I. ' Yes,' replied the irate gentleman,
seizing me rudely by the collar — and he would have choked me, but
that my blue satin stock and false collar gave way, and were left in
the hands of this gentleman. ' Help, landlord ! ' I loudly exclaimed,
adding, I believe, ' nuuxler,' and otlier exclamations of alarm. In
vain i appealed to the crowd, which by this time was pretty con-
420 THE DIARY OF
siderable ; and the unfeeling post-boys only burst into laughter, and
called out, ' Give it him, Captain.' A struggle ensued, in whicli
I have no doubt I should have had the better, but that the Captain,
joining suddenly in the general and indecent hilarity, which 'wa.s
doubled when I fell down, stopped and said, ' Well, Jims, I won't
fight on my maniage-day. Go into the tap, Jims, and order a glass
of brandy-aud-water at my expense — and mind I don't see your fixce
to-morrow morning, or I'll make it more ugly tlian it is.'
" With these gi'oss exi)res.sions and a cheer from the crowd, 'Mr.
Silvertop entered the inn. I need not say tliat I did not partake
of his hospitality, and that personally I despise his insults. I make
them known that they may call do\\Ti the indignation of tlie body ot
which I am a member, and throw myself on tlie sympathy of the
public, as a gentleman shamefully assaiUted and insulted in the
discharge of a public duty."
" Tlius you've sean how the flower of my affeckshns was tawn
out of nay busm, and my art was left bleading. Hangelina ! I forgive
thee. Maco thou be appy I If ever artfelt prayer for others wlieel
awailed on i, tlie beink on womb you tramjjlcd addresses those
subblygations to E\ni in your heh !
" I went home like a maniack, after hearing the announcement
of Hangelina's dcpjirtcr. Slie'd been gone twenty hours when I
heard the fatle noose. Purshoot was vain. Suppose I did kitch
lior up, tlioy were married, and what could we do I Tliis sensa])lf
remark I made to Earl Bareacres, when that distragted nobleman
igspawstulated with me. Er who was to have been my mother-in-
lor, the Countiss, I never from that momink sor agin. My presnt-^,
troosoes, juels, &:c., Averesent back — with the igsepshn of thediminds
and Cashmcar shawl, wldch her Ladyship amlnt Jind. (.)ny it
was wispered that at the nex buthday she was seen with a shawl
igsacJihj of the same jmftn. Let er keep it.
" Soutlidown wa.s phirrius. He came to me liafter the ewent,
and wanted me to adwance 50 lb., so that lie might purshew his
fewgitif sister — but I wasn't to be ad with that sort of chaugh —
there was no more money for that famly. Si> he went away, and
gave huttrance to his feelinx in a poem, which appeared (price 2
guineas) in the Bel Asomhhj.
" All the juilers, manchuraakers, lacemen, coch bilders, apolstrers,
hors dealers, and weddencake makers came jtawring in with their
bills, haggravating feelings already woomlid beyond enjurants. That
madniss didn't seaze me that night was a nuissy. Fever, fewrj'.
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUCHE 421
and raysxe rack'd my ha,>j;nized braind, and drove sleap from my
throbbink ilids. Hall night I foUered Hangeliuar in imadganation
idong the Nortli Eoad. I wented ciLsses & mallydickshuns on tlie
hinfamus Silvertop. I kiekd and rord in my imhnttarable whoe !
I sca^zd my i)iUar : I i)itcht into it : pummkl it, strangled it. Ha
har ! I tliought it was Silvertop writhing in my Jint gi-asp ; and
taw the horilayshis Tilling lim from lim in the terrible strenth of
my dospare ! . . . Let )no drop a cutting over the memries of that
idglit. When my lioddy-suvnt came with my ot water in the
luawning, the livid co])se in the cliamill was not payler than the
gashly De la Pluche !
" * Give me the Share-list, Mandeville,' I micanickly igsclaimed.
I had not i)enised it for the ])ast 3 <Lays, my etention being engayged
elseware. B.cyi\s & huth 1 — wliat Avas it I red there ? What was
it tliat made me spring outabed as if siunbady had given me cold
pig? — I red Eewin in that Share-list — the Paunick was in full
lioparation i "
••♦•*•
"Shall I describe that kitastrafy with which hall Hengland
is familliar? My & rifewses to cronnicle the misfortns which
lassaratcd my bleeding art in Hoctober last. On the fust of
Hawgnist where w^as I? Director of twenty-three Companies;
older of scriji hall at a i)i-imminm, and worth at least a qnarter
of a millium. On Loi-d Marc's (Liy, my Saint Hclcims quotid at
14 pm, were do^xn at h dlseoimt; my Central Ichaboes at | dis-
count ; my Table Moimling & Hottentot Grand Tnmk, no where ;
my Bathershins and Dcrr>Tiane Beg, of which I'd bought 2000 for
the accoimt at 17 prmiraimn, do^™ to nix ; my Juan Eeniandez,
my Gveat Central Oregons, prostrit There was a momint when I
thought I shouldn't be alive to -imte my o^ti tail ] "
(Here follow in Mr. Plush's MS. about twenty-foiu- pages of
railroad calculations, which we i)retcrmit,)
"Those becsts, Pump & Ald.gate, once so cringing and imible,
wrote me a thi-eatnen letter because I overdrew my .account tliree-
and-srxpence : woodmt advance me five thousand on 25,000 worth
of scrip; kep me waiting 2 hours when I asked to see the house ;
and then sent out Spout, the jewnior partner, saying they wouldn't
discount my paper, and implawed me to clothes my aceoirat. I did :
I paid the three-and-six balliance, and never sor 'em mor.
-'The market fell daily. The Rewin grew wusser and wusser.
Hagnies, Ha.gnies ! It wasn't in the city aloan my misfortns came
upon me. They beerdcd me in my own ome> Tlie biddle who
422 THE DIARY OF
kips watch at the Halbany wodu kcei> jnisfortn out of my chambers ;
and Mrs. Twiddler, of Pall Mall, and Mr. Himx, of Long Acre, put
egsicution into my apartmince, and swop off every stick of my
furniture. ' Waixlrobe & furniture of a man of fashion.' What an
adwertisement Grcorgo Robins did make of it ; and what a crowd
was collected to laff at the prospick of my ruing ! ]\Iy chice plait ;
my seller of wine ; my picturs— tliat of myself included fit was
Maryhann, bless her ! that bought it, unbeknown to me) ; all —
all went to the ammer. That brootle Fitzwarren, my exvally,
womb I met, fimilliarly slapt me on the sholder, and said, ' Jeames,
my boy, you'd best go into suvvis aginn.'
" I did go into suv\is — the wust of all suvvices — I went into
the Queen's Bench Prison, and lay there a misrabble captif for 6
mortial weeks. Misrabl>l(' shall I say? no, not misrabble altogether ;
there Avas sunlike in the dunjiiig of the pore i)risner. I had visitors.
A cart used to drive hup to the i)rizn gates of Saturdays ; a washy-
woman's cart, with a fat old lady in it, and a young one. Who
was that youni,^ one 1 Everyone who has an art can gess, it was
my blue-eyed lil ashing hangel of a iliuy Hann ! 'Shall we take
him out in the linneu-basket, Grandmamma T Mary Hann said.
Bless her, she'd already Iciimed to say grandmaniina quite natral ;
but I didn't go out that way ; I went out by the door a white-
Avashed man. Ho, what a feast there was at Heading the day I
came out ! I'd thirteen shillings left when I'd bought the gold
ring. I wasn't i)rowd. I turned the mangle for three weeks : and
then Uncle Bill said, ' Well, there is some good in the feller \ ' anil
it was agreed that we should marry."
The Plush manuscript finishes here ; it is many weeks since wo
saw the accomplishe<l writer, and we have oidy just learaed his
fate. We are happy to state that it is a comfortable and almost a
prosperous one.
The Honourable and Right Reverend Lionel Thistlewood, Lord
Bishop of Bullocksmithy, was mentioned as the uncle of Lady
Angelina Silvertop. Her elopement with her cousin caused deei>
emotion to the venerable prelate : he returned to the palace at
Bnll(X'ksinithy, of Avhich he had been for thirty years the ejiiscopal
ornament, and where he married three Avives, who lie buried in his
Cathedral Church of St. Boniface, Bidlncksniithy.
The aduiii-able man has rejoined those whom he loA-ed. As he
Avas preparing a charge to his clergy in his study after dinner, the
Lord Bishop fell suddenly down in a fit of apoplexy ; his butler,
bringing in his accustomed dish of devilled kiflncys for supper, dis-
covered the venerable form extended on the Turkey carpet Avith a
C. JEAMES DE LA PLUOHE 423
glass of Madeira in his liaiid ; l)ut life was extinct : and surgical aid
was tliorcforo not particularly visciful.
All the late preLitc^'s wives had fortunes, which the adiuiniblc
man increased by thril't, the judicious sale of leases which fell in
during his episcopacy, &c. He left tliree hundred thousand ])oiui(ls
—divided between his nephew and niece — not a gi'eater sum than
has been left by several deceased Irish prelates.
What Lord Southdown has done with his share we are not
called ui)on to state. He lias composed an epitapli to the Martyr
ui Bullocksmithy, which does him infinite credit. But we are
happy to state that Lady Angelina Silvertop presented five hundred
])ounds to her faithful and atrec'tionatc st'rvant, Mary Ann Hoggins,
on her marriage with Mr. James I'lush, to whom her Ladysliii» also
made a handsome present — namely, the lease, good-will, and fixtures
of the " Wheel of Fortune " public-house, near Shepherd's Market,
Mayfair : a house greatly frcciuented by all the no])ility's footmen,
doing a genteel stroke of liusiiu^ss in the neigld)ourhood, and where,
as we have heard, the "Butlers' Club" is held.
Here Mr. Plush lives, liapjiy in a blooming and interesting wife:
reconciled to a middU; si)hcre of life, as he was to a humbler ami a
higher one before. He has shaved off his wliiskers, and acconuno-
dates himself to an ai)ron with perfect good-humoiu-. A gentleman
connected with this establishment dined at tlie "Wheel of Fortune '
the other day, and collected the above i)articulars. Mr. Fhisli
blushed rather, as he brought in the first disji, and told his story
very modestly over a pint of excellent port. He had only one
tiling in life to comi)lain of, he said that a witless version of his
adventures had been produced at the Princess's Theatre, "without
with your leaf or by your leaf," as he expressed it. " Has for the
rest," the worthy fellow said, "I'm appy~- j^raps betwixt you and
me I'm in my proper spear. I enjy my glass of beer or port (with
your elth & my suvvice to you, sir) quite as much as my clarrit
in my i)rawsprus days. I've a good busniss, which is likely to be
better. If a man can't be appy with such a wife as my ^ Mary
Hann, he's a beest : and when a christening takes place in our
famly, will you give my complments to Mr. Punch, and ask him to
be godfather."
LETTERS OF JEAMES
JEAMES ON TIME BARGINGS
PERAPS at this present niomiuk of Railway Hagetation and
unsafety tli« foUying little istory of a young friend of mine
may hact as an olesome warning to bother weak and hirreso-
lute young gents.
" Young Frederick Timmins was the horphan son of a respectable
cludgyman in the West of Hengland. Hadopted by his uncle.
Colonel T , of the Hoss-Mareens, and regardless of expence,
this young man was sent to Heatou ColUdge, and subsiquintly to
Hoxford, Avhere he was very nearly being Senior Rangier. He came
to London to study for the lor. His prospix was bright indead ;
and He lived in a secknd flore in Jerming Street, ha\lng a gluteal
inkum of two hundred lbs. per hannum.
" "With this andsum enuitj' it may be suppased that Frederick
wanted for nothink. Nor did he. He was a moral and well-
educated young man, who took care of liis clase ; poUisht his hone
tea-party boots; cleaned his kidd-gloves with injer rubber; and,
when not innted to dine out, took his meals reglar at the Hoxford
and Cambriilge Club — where (unless somebody treated him) he was
never known to igseed his alf-i)int of Marsally Wine.
" Merrits and vuttues such as his coodnt long pass unperseavd
in the world. Admitted to the most fashnabble parties, it wasn't
long before scM'al of the yoimg lathes viewed him with a favorable
i ; one, ixpecially, the lovely Miss Hemily JMulligatawney, daughter
of the Heast-Injar Derector of that name. As she was the richest
gal of all the season, of corse Frederick fell in love with her. His
haspirations were on the pint of being crowndid with success ; and
it was agreed that as soon as he was called to the bar, when he
would sutnly T)e apinted a Judge, or a revising barrister, or Lord
Chanslor, he should lead her to the halter.
"What life could be more desirable than Frederick's? He gave
up his mornings to perfeshnl studdy, under Mr. Bluebag, the
heminent pleader; he devoted his heveuings to helegant sosiaty at
JEAMES ON TIME BARGINGS 425
his Clubb, or with his hadord Hemily. He had no cares ; no detts ;
no egstravigancies ; he never was known to ride in a cabb, iiuless
one of his tip-top friends lent it him ; to go to a theayter unless he
got a border; or to lienter a tavern or smoke a cigar. If prosperraty
was hever chocked out, it was for that young man.
" But mcl-mstances arose. Fatle suckmstances for pore Frederick
Timmins. The Railway Hoperatious began.
" For some time, immerst in lor and love, in the hardent hoc-
cupations of his cheembers, or the sweet sosiaty of liis Hemily,
Frederick took no note of railroads. He did not reckonize the
jigautic revalution wliich with hiron strides was a walkin over the
country. But they began to be talked of even in his quiat haunts.
Heven in the Hoxford and Cambridge Clubb, fellers were a specu-
latin. Tom Thumper (of Brasen Nose) cleared four thousand lb.;
Bob Bullock (of Hcxeter), wlio had lost all his proppaty gambling,
had set himself up again ; and Jack Deuceace, who had won it,
had won a small istate besides by lucky specklations in the Share
Markit.
" Hevery body won. 'Why shouldn't IV thought pore Fred;
and having saved 100 lb., he began a writin for shares — using, like
an ickonominicle feller as he was, the Clubb paper to a prodigious
igstent. All the Piailroad directors, his friends, helped him to shares
— the allottments came tuml)ling in — he took the primmiums by
fifties and hundreds a day. His desk was cramd full of bank notes :
his brane world with igsitement.
" He gave up going to the Temple, and might now be seen hall
day about Capel Court. He took no moi-e hinterest in lor; but
his whole talk was of railroad lines. His desk at Mr. Bluebag's
was filled full of prospectisises, and that legal gent wrote to Fred's
uncle, to say he feared he was neglectin his bisniss.
" Alass ! he ions neglectin it, and all his sober and industerous
habits. He begann to give dinners, and thought notliin of partys
to Greenwich or Richmond. He didn't see his Hemily near so
often : although the hawdacious and misguided young man might
have done so much more heasily now than before : for now he kep a
Broom !
" But there's a tumminus to hevery Railway. Fred's was ap-
proachin : in an evil hour he began making time-hargings. Let this
be a warning to all young fellers, and Fred's huntimely bend hoperate
on them in a moral pint of vu !
" You all know under what favrabble suckemstanses the Great
Hafrican Line, the Grand Niger Junction, or Gold Coast and
Timbuctoo (Provishnal) Hatmospheric Railway came out four weeks
ago : deposit ninepence per share of 201. (six elephant's teeth,
426 LETTERS OF JEAMES
twelve tons of palm-oil, or four healthy niggers, African currency)
the shares of this helegeble investment rose to 1, 2, 3, in the
Markit. A happy man was Fred when, after paying down 100
ninepences (3/., Ws.), he sold his shares for 250^. He gave a
dinner at the ' Star and Garter ' that verj- day. I promise you
there was no Marsally there.
" Kex day they were up at 3|. This put Fred in a rage : they
rose to 5, he was in a fewry. ' What an ass I was to sell,' said
he, * when all this money avi^s to be won ! '
" ' And so you were an Ass,' saiil liis partiklar friend, Colonel
Claw, K.X.R., a director of the line, ' a double-eared Ass. My dear
fellow, the shares will be at 15 next week. Will you give me your
solemn word of honour not to bi-eathe to mortal man what I am
going to tell you 1 '
" * Honour bright,' says Fred.
" ' Hudson has joined the line.' Fred didn't .say a wonl
more, but went tumbling down to the City in his Brtmm. You
know the state of the streats. Claw went by water.
'"Buy me one thousand Hafricans for the 30th,' crie.s Fred,
busting into his broker's; and they were done for him at 4|.''
• ••••••
" Can't you guess the rest ? Haven't you seen the Share List \
which says : —
" ' Great Africans, paid 9(Z. ; price \ par,'
" And that's what came of my pore dear friend Timmins's time-
barging.
" What'll become of him I can't say ; for nolxnly has seen him
since. His loilgins in Jerming Street is to let. His brokers in
vain deplores his absaice. His Uncle ha.s declaretl his marriage
with his housekeeix'r ; and the Mnrvimj Enild (that emusimx print)
has a jiaragraf yesterday in the fashnabble news, he5»de<l 'Marriage
in High Life. — The rich and beautifid Mi.ss ilulligatiiwney, of Port-
land Place, is to be speedily unitetl to Colonel Claw, K.X.R.'
"Jeamjes."
JEAMES ON THE GAUGE QUESTION
"You will scarcely praps reckonize in this little skit'h the haltered
liniiuints of 1, with woos face the rcders of your valluble mislny
were once fimiliar, — the uufortnt Jeames de la Pluche, fondy so
selabrated in the foshnabble suckles, now the pore Jeames Plush,
JEAMES ON THE GAUGE QUESTION 427
landlord of the * Wheel of Fortune ' public house. Yes, that is me !
that is my haypun which I wear as Iveeomes a publican — tiiose is
the checkers which hornyment the pillows of my dor. I am like the
Komiu Genral, St. Ceiiatus, equal to any emudgency of Fortun. I,
who have drunk Shampang in my time, aint now abov droring a h
l>int of Small- Bier. As for my "wiie — that Angel — I've not ventured
to clepigt her. ■ Fansy her a .sittn in the Bar, smiln like a sunflower
— and, ho, dear Punch! happy in nussing a deer little darlint totsy-
vvotsy of a Jeiimes, with my air to a curl, and my i's to a T 1
" I never thought I should have been injuiced to write anytliing
but a Bill agin, much less to edress you on Riilway Subjix — whicli
with all my sole I ahaw. Railway letters, obbligations to pay hup,
gluteal inquirv'.s as to my Saliss;itor's name, &c. &c., I <lispLze and
scorn artily. But as a man, an usbnd, a father, and a freehon Brittn,
my jewty compels me to come forwoods, and igspress my opinion
upon that nashnal neivsance — the break of Gage.
" An interesting ewent in a noble family with which I once very
nearly h;ui the honor of being kinected, acurd a iaw weex sins, wlien
the Lady Angelina S -, daughter of the Earl of B cres, pre-
sented the gidlant Cai)ting, her usl«ind, \''\i\\ a Son & hair. Nothink
woidd .satasfy her Ladyship but that her old and iittacht finidy-
shamter, my wife Mary Hann Plush, shoukl be jn-esnt upon this
hospicious occasion, Capting S was not jellus of me on account
of my fonner attachment to liis L;idy. I cunscnt^^d that my Mary
Hauu should attend her, and me, my wife, and our dear babby ac;iw-
dingly set out for our noable fi-end's residence, Honeymoon Lodge,
near Cheltenham.
" Sick of all Kailroads myself, I wisht to pxtst it in a Ghay and
4, but Mary Hann, witli the hobsttniacy of her Sex, was Ixnit upon
Railroad travelling, and I ymlded, like all hu>sbinds. We set out
by the Great Westn, in an eavle Horn-.
"We tlidn't take much luggitch — my wife's things in the ushal
bandlx)xes — mine in a i)otmancho. Our dear little James Angelo's
(called so in complament to liis noljle Godmamma) cnwldle, and a
-small su])ply of a few 100 weight of Toi)sanl>awt*ms, Fiirinasliious
food, and Ladrs lingers, I'or that dear child, who is now G months
old, with a jierdidgus appatite. Likewise we were charged with
a bran new JMedsan chest for my Lady, from Skivary & Morris,
containing enough rewl)ub. Daffy's Alixir, Godfrey's cawdle, witli a
few score of j)arsles for Lady H!Uigelina'>s family -cUid owsehold ;
about 2000 spessymins of Babby linning from Mrs. Flummary's,
in Regent Street, a Chayny Cresning Imwl from old Lady Bareacres
(big enough to immus a Haldennan), & a case marked 'Glass,' from
ber Ladyship's meddicle man, which Avere stowed away together;
428 LETTERS OF JEAMES
had to this an ormylew Cradle, with rose-coloured Sattiug & Pink lace
hangings, held up by a gold tuttle-tlove, &c. We had, ingluding
James Hangelo's rattle &. ray umbrellow, 73 packidges in all.
" We got on very well as far as Swindon, where, in the Splendid
Refreshment room, there was a galaxy of lovely gals in cottn velvet
spencers, who serves out the soop, and 1 of whom «maid an im-
presshn upon this Art which I shoodn't like Mary Hann to know
— and here, to our infanit disgust, we changed carridges. I forgot
to say that we were in the secknd class, having with us James
Hangelo, and 23 other liglit hartieles.
" Fust inconveniance ; and almost as bad as break of gage. I
cast my lu ujwn the gal in cottn velvet, and wanted some soop, of
coarse; but seasing up James Hangelo (who was layin liis dear
little pors on an Am Sangwidg) and seeing my igspresshn of hi —
' James,* says Mary Hann, ' instead of looking at that young lady
— and not so ven/ young, neither- — be pleased to look to our
jjackidges, & place them in the other caiTidge.' I did so with an
evy Ai-t. I eranged them 23 articles in the opsit earridg, only
missing my lunberella & baby's rattle ; and jest as I came back for
my bfiysn of soop,, the beast of a bell rings, the wliizzling injians
proclajTiis the time of our departure, — & farewell soop and cottn
velvet Mary Hann was sulky. She said it was; my Iceing the
imiberella. If it had been a cotton velvet umhetyiUa I could have
undei-stoocL James Hangelo sittn on my knee was evidently
unwell ; ■nathout his coral : & for 20 miles that blessid babby kep
up a rawring,, wliich caused all the passingers to siiapithize with
him igseedingly.
"We arrive at Gloster, and there fansy my disgust at bein
ableeged to undergo another change of carridges \ Fansy me hold-
ing up moughs, tippits,, cl(xiks, and baskits. and James Hangelo
rawring still like mad,, and pretending to shuperintend the: carrying
over of oiu^ lixggage from the broad gage to the narrow gage.
' Mary Hann,' says I, rot to desperation, ' I shall tlxrottle this
darling if he goes on.' 'Do,' says she— 'and go into the refresh-
ment ix)mn,* says she — -a snatchin the babby out of my arms. 'Do
go,' says she, 'youre not ilt to look after luggage,' and slie began
lulling James Hangelo to sleei> with one hi,, wMle she looked
after the packets with the other. ' Xow, sir ! if you please, mind
that packet [ — pretty darling — easy with that box,, sir, it's glass —
pooooty ixrpjjet— Where's the deal ease, marked arrowroot. No. 241"
she cried, reading out of a list she had. — And poor little James,
went to sleep. The porters were biuidling and carting the various
hartieles with no more ceremony than if each, package had been, of
cannon-balL
MR. JEAMES AGAIN • 429
"At last — bang goes a jiackage iiiarked 'Glass,' and containing
the Cliayny bowl and Lady Bareacrcs' mixture, into a large white
bandbox, with a crash and a smash. 'It's My Lady's box from
Crinoline's!' cries Mary Hann ; and she puts down the child on
the bench, and rushes forward to insi)cck the daniniidge. You
could hear the Chayny bowls clinking inside ; and Lady B.'s
mixture (which had the igsack smell of cherry brandy) was
<h-ibbling out over the smashed bandl)OX containing a white child's
cloak, trimmed with Blown lace and lined Avith white satting.
"As James was asleep, and I was by this time uncommon
hungry, I thought I would go into the Refreshment Room and just
take a little soup ; so I wrapped him up in his cloak and laid him
by his mamma, and went off. There's not near such good attend-
ance as at Swindon."
"We took our places in the carriage in the dark, both of
us covered with a j)ile of packages, and Mary Hann so sulky
that she would not sjjeak for some minutes. At last she spoke
out —
" * Have you all the small parcels 1 '
" ' Twenty-three in all,' says I.
" ' Then give me baby.'
" ' Give you what ? ' says I.
" ' Give me baby.'
" ' What, haven't y-y-yoooo got him ? ' says I.
"0 Mussy! You should have heard her sreak ! We'd left
him on the ledge at Gloster.
" It all came of tlie break of gage."
MR. JEAMES AGAIN
-"' Dear Mk. Punch, — As newmarus inquiries have been maid
both at my privit ressddence, ' The Wheel of Fortune Otel,' and at'
your Hoffis, regarding the ftxte of that dear babby, James Hangelo,
whose prianmiture dissappearnts caused such hagnies to his distracted
parents, I nmst begg, dear Sir, the permission to ocku])y a part of
your valuble collams once more, and hease the public mind about
my blessid boy.
" Wictims of that nashnal cuss, the Broken Gage, me and Mrs.
430 • LETTERS OF JEAMES
Plush was left in the train to Cheltenham, soughring from that
most disagi'eeble of complaints, a halmost brol-en Art. The
skreems of Mrs. Jeames might be said almost to out-Y the squeel of
the dying, as we nisht into that foshnable Spaw, and my pore
Mary Hann found it was not Baby, but Bundles I had in ray lapp.
"When the Old Dowidger Lady BareacTes, who was waiting
heagerly at the train, herd that owing to that abawminable brake
of Gage the luggitch, her Ladyship's Cherrybrandy box, the cradle
for Lady Hangelina's baby, the lace, crockary and chany, was
rejuiced to one iramortial smash ; the old cat howld at me and pore
dear Mary Hann, as if it was iiuss, and not the infunnle Brake of
Gagej was to blame ; and as if we ad no misfortns of our hown to
deplaw. She bust out about my stupid impareuce; called Mary
Hann a good for nothink creeclier, and wep, and abewsd, and took
on about her broken Chayny Bowl, a great deal mor than she did
about a dear little Christian child. ' Don't talk to me abowt your
bratt of a babby ' (seshe) ; ' wliere's my bowl 1 — where's my
medsan 1 — where's my bewtiffle Pint lace 1 — All in rewins througli
your stupiddaty, you brute, you ! '
" ' Bring your haction aginst the Great Western, Maam,' says I,
quite riled by tliis crewel and unfealing hold wixen. * Ask the
])awters at Gloster, why your goods is spiled — it's not the fust time
they've been asked the question. Git the gage haltered aginst the
nex time you send for medsan — and mean wild buy some at the
" Plow" — they keep it very good and strong there, I'll be bound.
Has for us, ive^re a going back to the cussid station at Glostei", in
such of our blessid child.'
"'You don't mean to say, young woman,' seshe, 'that you're
not going to Lady Hangelina : what's her dear boy to do 1 who's to
luiss it 1 '
" ' Yoio nuss it, Maam,' says I. ' Me and Mary Hann return
this momint by the Fly.' And so (whishmg her a suckastic ajew)
]\Irs. Jeames and I lep into a one oss weakle, and told the driver to
go like mad back to Gloster.
"I can't describe my pore gals hagny juring our ride. She sat
in the carridge as silent as a milestone, and as madd as a march
Air. When we got to Gloster she sprang hout of it as wild as a
Tigris, and rusht to the station, up to the fatle Bench.
'"My child, my child,' shreex she, in a boss hot voice.
' Where's my infant 1 a little bewtitle child, with blue eyes, — dear
Mr. Policeman, give it me — a thousand giunea,s for it.'
" ' Faix, Mam,' says the man, a Hirishman, ' and the divvle a
babby have I seen this day except thirteen of my own — and you're
welcome to any one of them, and kindly.'
ME. JEAMES AGAIN 431
" ' As if his babbj" was equal to ours,' as iny darling Mary Haun
said, afterwards. All the station was scrouging round us by this
time — pawters & clarx and refreshmint people and all. ' What's
this year row about that there babljy 1 ' at last says the Inspector,
stepping hup. I thought my wife was going to jump into his harms.
' Have you got him ? ' says she.
" ' Was it a child in a blue cloak 1 ' says he.
" 'And blue eyes ! ' says my wife.
" ' I put a label on him and sent him on to Bristol ; he's there
by this time. The Guard of the Mail took him and put him into
a letter-box,' says he : ' he went 20 minutes ago. We found him
on the broad gauge line, and sent him on by it, in course,' says he.
' And it'll be a caution to you, young woman, for the future, to
label your children along with the rest of your luggage.'
" If my piguniary means had been such as once they was, you
may emadgine I'd have ad a speshle train and been hoff like
smoak. As it was, we was obliged to wait 4 mortial hours
for the next train (4 eara they seemed to us), and then away we
went,
" ' My boy ! my little boy ! ' says poor choking Mary Hann, when
we got there. ' A parcel in a blue cloak ? ' says the man. ' No
body claimed him here, and so we sent him back by the mail. An
rish nurse here gave him some supper, and he's at Paddington by
his time. Yes,' says he, looking at tlie clock, ' he's been there
these ten minutes.'
" But seeing my poor wife's distracted histarricle state, this
good-naterd man says, ' I think, my tlear, tliere's a way to ease your
mind. We'll know in five minutes how he is.'
" * Sir,' says she, ' don't make sport of me.'
" ' No, my dear, we'll telegraph him.'
" And he Ijegan hopparating on that singular and ingenus
elecktricle inwention, which aniliates time, and carries intellagence
in the twinkling of a peg-post.
" ' I'll ask,' says he, for child marked G. W. 273.'
" Back comes tlie telegi-aph with the sigai ' All right.'
" ' Ask what he's doing, sir,' says my wife, quite amazed. Back
comes the answer in a Jitfy —
" C.R.Y.I.N.G.'
"This caused all the bystanders to laugh excep my pore Mary
Hann, who pidl'd a very sad face.
"The good-naterd feller presently said, 'he'd have another trile;'
and what d'ye think Avas the answer % I'm blest if it wasn't —
" ' P.A.P.'
' He was eating pap ! There's for you — there's a rogue for
((
432 LETTERS OF JEAMES
you — there's a March of lutaleck ! Mary Hami smiled now for
the fiist time. ' He'll sleep now,' says sire. And she sat down
with a full hart.
" If hever that good-naterd Shooperintendent comes to London,
he need never ask for his skore at the ' Wheel of Fortune Otel,' I
promise you— where me and my wife and James Hangelo now is ;
and where only yesterday a gent came in and drew a pictur of us
in our bar.
" And if they go on breaking gages ; and if the child, the most
precious luggidge of the Henglishraan, is to be bundled about this
year way, why it won't be for want of warning, both from Professor
Harris, the Commission, and from my dear Mr. Punch's obeajent
servant, Jeames Plush."
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
LEGEND OF THE RHINE
CHAPTER 1
SIR LUDIVIG OF HOMBOURG
IT was in the good old days of chivalry, when every mountain
that bathes its shadow in the Rhine had its castle : not in-
habited, as now, by a few rats and owls, nor covered with moss
and wallflowers, and funguses^ and creeping ivy. No, no ! where
the ivy now clusters there grew strong portcullis and bars of steel ;
where the wallflower now quivers on the rampart there were silken
banners embroidered with wonderful heraldry ; men-at-arms marched
where now you shall only see a bank of moss or a hideous black
champignon ; and in place of the rats and owlets, I warrant me
tliere were ladies and knights to revel in the great halls, and to
feast, and to dance, and to make love there. They are passed
away: — those old knights and ladies: their golden hair first changed
to silver, and then the silver dropjied oft" and disappeared for ever ;
their elegant legs, so slim and active in the dance, became swollen
and gouty, and then, from being swollen and gouty, dwindled down
to bare bone-shanks ; tlie roses left their cheeks, and then their
cheeks disappeared, and left their skulls, and then their skulls
powdered into dust, and all sign of them was gone. And as it was
with them, so shall it be with us. Ho, seneschal ! fill me a cup of
liquor ! put sugar in it, good fellow — yea, and a little hot water ; a
very little, for my soul is sad, as I think of those days and knights
of old.
They, too, have revelled and feasted, and where are they"? —
gone?— nay, not altogether gone; for doth not the eye catch glimpses
of them as they walk yonder in the grey limbo of romance, shining
faintly in their coats of steel, wandering by the side of long-haired
ladies, with long-tailed gowns that little pages carry 1 Yes ! one
sees them : the poet sees them still in the far-off" Cloudlaud, and
hears the ring of their clarions as they hasten to battle or tourney —
436 A LEGEND OF THE RHIXE
aud the dim echoes of their kites chanting of love and fair ladies \
Gracious privilege of poesy ! It is as the Dervish's collyrium to the
eyes, and causes them to see treasures that to the sight' of donkeys
are invisible. Blessed treasures of fancy ! I would not change ye
— no, not for many donkey-loads of gold. . . . Fill again, jolly
seneschal, thou brave wag ; chalk me up the produce on the hostel
door — surely the spirits of old arc mixed up in the wondrous liquor,
and gentle visions of bygone princes and princesses look blandly
down on us from the cloudy perfume of the ppe. Do you know in
what year the fairies left the Rhine? — long before Murray's "Guide-
Book" was wrote — long before squat steamboats, Mnth snorting
funnels, came paddling down the stream. Do you not know that
once upon a time the appearance of eleven thousand British virgins
was considered at Cologne as a wonder 1 Now there come twenty
thousand such annually, accompanied by their ladies'-maids. But
of them we will say no more — let us back to those who went before
them.
Many many hundred thousand years ago, and at the exact period
when chivalry was in full l.loom, there occurred a little history upon
the banks of the Rhine, which has been already written in a book,
and hence must he po.sitivcly true. 'Tis a story of knights and
ladies — of lovo and battle, and virtue rewarded ; a story of princes
and noble lords, moreover : the best of company. Gentles, an ye
will, ye shall hoar it. Fair dames and damsels, may your loves.be
as happy as those of the heroine of this romaunt.
On the cold and rainy evening of Thursday, the 26th of October,
in the year previously indicated, such travellers as might have chanced
to be abroad in that bitter night, might have remarked a fellow-
wayfarer journeying on the road from Oberwintcr to Godesberg. He
was a man not tall in stature, but of the most athletic proportions,
and Time, which had browned and furrowed his cheek and sprinkled
his locks with grey, declared pretty clearly that He must have been
acquainted with the warrior for some fifty good y^ars. He wa.s armed
in mail, and rode a powerful and active battle-horse, which (though
the way the pair had come that day was long and weary indeed)
yet supported the warrior, his armour aud luggage, with seeming
ease. As it was in a friend's country, the knight did not tliink fit
to wear his heavy destrier, or helmet, which hung at his saddle-bow
over his portmanteau. Both were marked with the coronet of a
count ; and from the crown which surmounted the helmet, rose the
crest of his knightly race, an arm proper lifting a naked sword.
At his right hand, and convenient to the warrior's grasp, hung his
mangonel or mace — a terrific weapon which had shattered the brains
of many a turbancd soldan : while over his broad and ample chest
SIR LUDWIG OF HOMBOURG 437
there fell the triangular shield of the period, whereon were emldaz-
oned his arms — argent, a gules wavy, on a saltire reversed of the
second : the latter device was awarded for a daring exploit before
Ascalon, by the Emperor Maximilian, and a reference to the German
Peerage of that day, or a knowledge of high families which every
gentleman then possessed, would have sufficed to show at once that
the rider we have described was of the noble house of Hombourg.
It was, in fact, the gallant knight Sir Ludwig of Hombourg : his
rank as a count, and chamberlain of the Emperor of Austria, Avas
marked by the cap of maintenance with the jieacock's feather which
he wore (when not armed for battle), and his princely blood was
denoted by the oiled silk umbrella which he carried (a very meet
I)rotection against the pitiless storm), and which, as it is known, in
the middle ages, none but princes were justified in using. A bag,
fastened with a brazen i)adlock, and made of the costly produce of
the Persian looms (then extremely rare in Europe), told that he had
travelled in Eastern climes. This, too, was evident from the inscrip-
tion writ on card or parchment, and se\ved on the bag. It first ran,
" Count Ludwig de Hombom'g, Jerusalem ; " but the name of the
Holy City had been dashed out with the pen, and that of " Godes-
berg " substituted. So far indeed had the cavalier travelled ! — and
it is needless to state that the bag in question contained such remain-
ing articles of the toilet as the high-born nol>le deemed lumecessary
to place in his valise.
" By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen ! " said the good knight,
shivering, " 'tis colder here than at Damascus ! Marry, I am so
hungry I could eat one of Saladin's camels. Shall I be at Godesberg
in time for dinner 1 " And taking out his horologe (which hung in
a small side-pocket of his embroidered surcoat), the crusader consoled
himself by finding that it was but seven of the night, and that he
would reach Godesberg ei-e the warder had sounded the second gong.
His opinion was borne. out by the result. His good steed, which
could trot at a pinch fourteen leagues in the hour, brought him to
this fomous castle, just as the warder was giving the first Avelcome
signal which told that the princely family of Count Karl, Margrave
of Godesberg, were about to prepare for their usual rejiast at eight
o'clock. Crowds of pages and horsekeepers were in the court, when,
the portcullis being raised, and amidst the respectful salutes of the
sentinels, the most ancient friend of the house of Godesberg entered
into its castle-yard. The under-butler stepjied forward to take his
bridle-rein, " Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy Land ! " exclaimed
the faithful old man. " Welcome, Sir Count, from the Holy Land ! "
cried the rest of the servants in the hall. A stable was speedily
found for the Count's horse, Streithsngst, and it was not Ijefore the
438 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
gallant soldier had seen that true animal well cared for, that he
entered the castle itself, and was conducted to his chamber. Wax
candles bui-ning bright on the mantel, flowers in china vases, every
variety of soap, and a flask of the precious essence manufactured at
the neighbouring city of Cologne, were displayed on his toilet-table ;
a cheering fire " crackled on the hearth," and showed that the good
knight's coming had been looked and cared for. The serving-maidens,
bringing him hot water for his ablutions, smiling asked, " Would he
have his couch warmed at eve 1 " One might have been sure from
their blushes that the tough old soldier made an arch reply. The
family tonsor came to know whether the noble Count had need of
his skill. " By Saint Bugo," said the knight, as seated in an easy
settle by the fire, the tonsor rid his chin of its stubbly growth, and
lightly passed the tongs and pomatum through " the sable silver " of
his hair,- — " By Saint Bugo, this is better than my dungeon at Grand
Cairo. How is my godson Otto, master barber; and the Lady
Countess, his mother ; and the noble Count Karl, my dear brother-
in-arms 1 "
" They are well," said the tonsor, with a sigh.
" By Saiftt Bugo, I'm glad on't ; but why that sigh 1 "
" Things are not as they have been with my good lord," answered
the hairdresser, " ever since Count Gottfried's arrival."
" He here ! " roared Sir Ludwig. " Good never came where
Gottfried was ! " and the while he donned a pair of silken hose,
that showed admirably the proportions of his lower limbs, and
exchanged his coat of mail for the spotless vest and black surcoat
collared with velvet of Genoa, which was the fitting costume for
"knight in ladye's bower, "^the knight entered into a conversation
with the barber, who explained to him, with the usual garrulous-
ness of his tribe, what was the present position of the noble family
of Godesberg.
This will be narrated in the next chapter.
CHAPTER II
THE GODESBERGERS
TIS needless to state that the gallant warrior Ludwig of Horn-
bourg found in the bosom of his friend's family a cordial
welcome. The brother-iu-arms of the Margrave Karl, he
was the esteemed friend of the Margravine, the exalted and beau-
tiful Theodora of Boppum, and (albeit no theologian, and although
the first princes of Christendom coveted sucli an honour) he was
selected to stand as sponsor for the Margrave's son Otto, the only
child of his house.
It was now seventeen years since the Count and Countess had
been united : and although Heaven had not blessed their couch with
more than one child, it may be said of that one that it was a prize,
and that surely never lighted on the earth a more delightful vision.
When Count Ludwig, hastening to the holy wars, had quitted his
beloved godchild, he had left him a boy ; he now found him, as the
latter rushed into his arms, grown to be one of the finest young men
in Germany : tall and excessively graceful in proportion, with the
blush of health mantling upon his cheek, that was likewise adorned
with the first down of manhood, and with magnificent gijlden ringlets,
such as a Rowland might envy, curling over his brow and his
shoulders. His eyes alternately beamed with the fire of daring,
or melted with the moist glance of benevolence. Well might a
mother be proud of such a boy. Well might the brave Ludwig
exclaim, as he clasped the youth to his breast, " By Saint Bugo of
Katzenellenbogen, Otto, thou art fit to be one of Cceur de Lion's
grenadiers ! " and it was the fact : the " Childe " of Godesberg
measured six feet three.
He was habited for the evening meal in the costly though simple
attire of the nobleman of the period — and his costume a good deal
resend)led that of the old knight whuse toilet we have just described ;
with the difierence of colour, however. The pourpoint worn by
young Otto of Godesberg was of blue, handsomely decorated with
buttons of carved and embossed gold ; his haut-de-chausses, or
leggings, were of the stuff' of Nanquin, then brought by the Lom-
bard argosies at an immense price from China. The neighbouring
440 A LEGEND OF THE RHIXE
country of Holland had supplied his wrists and bosom with the
most costly laces; and thus attired, with an opera-hat placed on
one side of his head, ornamented with a single flower (that brilliant
one, the tulip), the boy rushed into his godfather's dressing-room,
and warned him that the banquet was ready.
It was indeed : a frown had gathered on the dark brows of the
Lady Theodora, and her bosom heaved with an emotion akin to
indignation ; for she feared lest the soups in the refectory and the
si)]eii(lid fish now smoking there were getting cold : she feared not
for herself, but for her lord's sake. " Godesberg," whispered she to
Count Ludwig, as trembling on his arm they descended from the
drawing-room, " Godesberg is sadly changed of late."
"By Saint Bugo ! " said the burly knight, starting, "these are
the very words the barber si)ake."
The lady heaved a sigh, and placed herself before the soup-
tureen. For some time tlie good Knight Ludwig of Hombourg was
too much occupied in ladling out the forcemeat l)alls and rirh calves'
head of which the delicious pottuge was formed (in lailling them
out, did we say? ay, marry, and in eating them, too) to look at
his brother-in-arms at the bottom of the table, Avhere he sat witii
his son on his left hand, and the Baron Gottfried on his right.
The Margrave was indeed changed. " By Saint Bugo," whispered
Ludwig to the Countess, "your husband is as surly as a l>ear that
hath been wounded o' the head." Tears falling into her soup-jilatc
were her only reply. The soup, the turbot, the haunch of mutton,
Count Ludwig remarked that the j\Lirgrave sent all away un-
tasted.
" The boteler will serve ye with wine, Hombourg," said the Mar-
grave gloomily from the end of the table. Not even an invitation
to drink : how different was this from tlie old times !
But when, in comi)liance with this order, tlie boteler liroceeded
to hand round the mantling vintage of the Cai)e to the a.ssembled
party, and to fill young Otto's goblet (which the latter held up with
the eagerness of youth), the Margrave's rage knew no bounds.
He rushed at his son ; he dashed the wine-cup over his spotless
vest ; and giving him three or four heavy blows which would have
Iv nocked down a bonassus, but only caused the young Childe to
blush : " You take wine ! " roared out the Margrave ; " pmi dare
to help yourself! Who the d-v-1 gave you leave to help your-
self?" and the terrible blows were reiterated over the delicate ears
of the boy.
" Ludwig ! Ludwig ! " shrieked the Margravine.
" Hold your prate, madam," roared tlie Prince. " By Saint
Buflb, mayn't a father beat his own child 1 "
THE GODESBERGERS 441
" His own child ! " repeated tlie Margrave ^Yitll a lnu\st, almost
a shriek, of indescribaVtle agony. "Ah, Mhat did I say?"
Sir Ludwig looked about him in amaze ; Sir Gottfried (at the
Margrave's right hand) smiled ghastlily ; the young Otto "was tot)
much agitated by the recent conflict to wear any expression hut
that of extreme discomfiture ; hut the poor Margravine turned her
head aside and blushed, red almost as the lobster which flanked the
turbot before her.
In those rude old times, 'tis known such table (piarrels were by
no means luuisual amongst gallant knights ; and Ludwig, who had
oft seen the Margrave cast a leg of mutton at an ofl'ending servitor,
or emj^ty a sauce-boat in the direction of the Margravine, thought
this was but one of the usual outbreaks of his wortiiy though
irascible friend, and wisely determined to change the converse.
" How is my friend," said he, " the good knight, Sir Hilde-
bran.lt J "
"By Saint Buttb, this is too nuich ! " screamed the Margrave,
and actually rushed from the room.
"By Saint Bugo," said his friend, "gallant knights, gentle sirs,
what ails my good Lord Margrave?"
" Perhaps his nose bleeds," said Gottfried with a. sn(>er.
" Ah, my kind friend," said the Margravine with uncontrollable
emotion, " I fear some of you have passe<l from the frying-pan into
the fire." And making the signal of departure to tlie ladies, they
rose and retired to cofl'ce in the drawing-room.
The Margrave presently came back again, somewhat more
collected than, he had been. " Otto," he said st(>rnly, " go join the
ladies : it becomes not a young boy to remain in the company of
gallant knights after dinner." The noble Childe Avith manifest
unwillingness quitted the room, and the Margrave, taking his lady's
jtlace at the head of the table, whispered to Sir Ludwig, " Hilde-
brandt will be here to-night to an evening jtarty, given in honom- of
your return ii-om Palestine. My good friend— my true friend — my
old companion in arms, Sir Gottfried ! you had best see that the
fiddlers be not drunk, and that the crum])ets be gotten ready." Sir
Gottfried, obsequiously taking his patron's hint, bowed and left the
room.
" You shall know all soon, dear Ludwig," said the Margrave
with a heartrending look. "You marked Gottfried, who Icit the
room anon 1 "
"I did."
" Y.-»u look incredulous concerning his worth ; but I tell thee,
Ludwig, that yonder Gottfried is a good fellow, and my fast friend.
Why should he not be? He is my near relation, licir to my
442 A LEGEND OF THE RHIXE
property : should I " (here the Margrave's oonntenauoe assiimed its
former expression of excruciating agony), — " should I have no son."
"But I never saw the boy in better health," replied Sir
Ludwig.
" Nevertheless, — ha ! ha I — it may chance tliat I shall soon
have no son."
The Margrave had crushed many a cup of wine during dinner,,
and Sir Ludwig thought naturally tliat his gallant friend had
drunken rather deeply. He proceeded in this respect to imitate
liim ; for the stern soldier of those days neither shnmk before the
PajTiim nor the punch-bowl : and many a rousing night had our
crusader enjoyed in Syria with lion-hearted Eichard ; with his
coadjutor, Godfrey of BoiuUon ; nay, with the daimtless Saladiu
himself
" You knew Gottfried in Palestine 1 " asked the Margrave.
" I did."
"Why did ye not gi'eet hira then, as ancient comrades should,
with the warm gi-asp of friendship 1 It is not because Sir Gottfried
is poor ? You know well tliat he is of race as noble as thine own,
my early friend ! "
" I care not for his race nor for his poverty," replied the blunt
crusader. " Wliat says the Minnesinger ? ]\Iarrv, the rank is but
the stamp of tlie guinea ; the man is the gold.' And I tell thee,
Karl of Godesberg, that yonder Gottfried is base metal."
" By Saint Buffo, thou behest him, dear Ludwig."
" By Saint Bugo, dear Karl, ' I say sooth. The fellow was
known i' the camp of the crusadei-s — disreputably known. Ere
he joined us in Palestine, he had sojourned in Constantinople, and
learned the arts of the Greek. He is a cogger of dice, I tell thee —
a chanter of horsetiesh. He won five thousand marks from bluff
Richard of England the night before the storming of Ascalon, and I
caught him with false trumps in liis jiocket. He warranted a bay
mare to Conrad of Mont Serrat, and the rogue had tired her."
"Ha! mean jc tliat Sir Gottti-ied is a leg?" cried Sir Karl,
knitting his brows. " Now, by my blessed patron, Saint Buffo of
Bonn, had any other but Lutlwig of Homboitrg so said, I would have
cloven him from skull to chine."
" By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen, I will prove my words on
Sir Gottfried's body — not on thine, old brother-in-arms. And to do
the knave justice, he is a good lance. Holy Bugo I but he lUd good
service at Acre ! But his character was such that, spite of his
bravery, he was dismissed the army ; nor even allowed to sell his
captain's commission."
"I have heard of it," said the Margrave; "Gottfried hath told
THE GODESBERGERS 443
me of it. 'Twas about some silly quarrel over the "vdne-cup — a mere
silly jape, believe me. Hugo de Brodenel would have no black bottle
on the board. Gottfried was wroth, and, to say sooth, flung the black
bottle at the Count's head. Hence his dismission and abrupt return.
But you know not," continued the Margrave, with a heavy sigh, "of
what use that worthy Gottfried has been to me. He has uncloaked
a traitor to me."
" Not yet" answered Hombourg satirically.
" By Saint Buffo ! a dee^vdyed dastard I a dangerous damnable
traitor ! — a nest of traitors. Hildebrandt is a traitor — Otto is a
traitor — and Theodora (0 Heaven !) she— she is another." The old
Prince burst into tears at the word, and was almost choked witli
emotion.
" What means this passion, dear friend 1 " cried Sir Ludwig,
seriously alarmed.
" Mark, Ludwig ! mark Hildebrandt and Theodora together :
mark Hildebrandt and Otto together. Like, like I tell thee as two
peas, holy saints, that I should be born to suffer this ! — to have
all my affections wrenched out of my bosom, and to be left alcme in
my old age ! But, hark I the guests are arriving. An ye will not
empty another flask of claret, let as join the ladyes i' the withdraw-
ing chamber. When there, mark Hildebrandt and Otto ! "
CHAPTER III
THE FESTIVAL
THE festival was indeed begun. Coming on liorseback, or in
their caioches, knights an<l ladies of the highest rank were
assembled in the grand saloon of Godesberg, whieh was sjilen-
didly illuminated to receive them. Ser\-itors, in rich liveries (they
were attired in doublets of the sky-blue broadcloth of Ypres, and
hose of the richest yellow samndt — the colours of the house of
Godesberg), bore about various refreshments on trays of silver —
cakes, baked in the oven, and swimming in melted butter; munchets
of bread, smeared with the same delicious condiment, and cars-eil so
thin that you nught liave expected them to take wing and Hy to the
ceiling ; cotfee, introduceil by Peter the Hermit, after his excureion
into Arabia, and tea such as only Bohemia coidd pn^duce, circulate*!
amidst the festive throng, and were eagerly devoured by the guests.
The Mar'Tave's gloom was unheeded bv them — how little indeed is
the smiling crowd aware of the pangs that are Inrking in the breasts
of those who bid them to the fea.st ! The MarL,Tavine was pale ; Imt
woman knows how to deceive; she was more than ordinarily courteous
to her friends, and laughed, though the laugh was hollow; and talked,
though the talk was loathsome to her.
"The two arc together," said tlie Margrave, clutching his
friend's shoulder. " Xoir look ! "
Sir Ludwig turned towards a qua<lrille, and there, sure enough,
were Sir Hildebrandt and young Otto st;inding side by side in
the dance. Two eggs were not more like I The reason of the
Margrave's horrid suspicion at once flashed across his friend's
mind.
" Tis clear as the statf of a pike," said the po4ir ^largrave
mournfully. " Come, brother, away from the scene ; let us go play
a game at cribbage ! " and retiring to the Margravine's boudoir, the
two warriors sat down to the game.
But though 'tis an interesting one, and though the Margrave
won, yet he could not keep his attentiim on the cards : so agitated
was his mind by the dreadful secret which weighed upon it. In
the midst of their play, the obsequious Gottfried came to whisper a
THE FESTIVAL -i45
word ill his patron's ear, wliich threw the latter into snch a fury,
that apoplexy was apprehended by the two lookers-on. But the
Margrave mastered his emotion. "At what time, did you say?"
said he to Gottfried.
" At daybreak, at the outer gate."
" I will'be there."
"And so v.'ill I too" thought Count Lud^\^g, tlie good Knight
of Homboiirg.
CHAPTER IV
THE FLIGHT
HOW often does man, proud man, make calculations for tlie
future, and think he can bend stern fate to his will ! Alas,
Ave are but creatures in its hands ! How many a slij)
between the lip and the lifted wine-cup ! How often, thoujrh
seemingly with a choice of couclies to repose upon, do we find our-
selves dashed to earth ; and then we are fain to say the grapes are
sour, because we cannot attain them ; or worse, to yield to anger in
consequence of our own fault. Sir Ludwig, the Hombourger, was
not at the outer gate at daybreak.
He slept until ten of the clock. The previous night's potations
had been heavy, the day's journey had been long and rough. The
knight slept as a soldier would, to whom a feather bed is a rarity,
and who wakes not till he hears the blast of the r^veilld.
He looked up as he woke. At his bedside sat the Margrave.
He had been there for hours watching his slumbering comrade.
Watching 1 — no, not watching, but awake by his side, 'l>roo(ling over
thoughts unutterably bitter — over feelings inexpressibly wretched.
" What's o'clock 1 " was the first natural exclamation of the
Homlxnirger.
" I believe it is five o'clock," said his friend. It was ten. It
might have been twelve, two, half-past four, twenty minutes to six,
tlie Margrave would still hhve said, " / hdieve it is Jive o'clock."
The wretched take no count of time : it flies with unequal pinions,
indeed, for them.
" Is breakfast over ? " inquired the crusader.
" Ask the butler," said the jMargrave, nodding his head wildly,
rolling his eyes v.'ildly, smiling wildly.
"Gracious Bugo ! " said the Knight of Hombourg, "what has
ailed thee, my friend ? It is ten o'clock by my horologe. Your
regular hour is nine. You are not — no, by heavens ! you are not
shaved ! You wear the tights and silken hose of last evening's
banquet. Your collar is all rumpled — 'tis that of yesterday. You
have not been to bed ! What has chanced, brother of mine : what
has chanced ? "
TPIE FLIGHT 447
" A common chance, Louis of Honibourg," said the Margi-ave :
•' one that chances every day. A false woman, a false friend, a
broken heart. This has chanced. I have not been to bed."
" What mean ye ? " cried Comit Ludwig, deeply affected. "A
false friend ? /am not a folse friend. A folse woman 1 Surely the
lovely Theodora, your wife "
" I have no wife, Louis, now ; I have no wife and no son."
• ••'•••
In accents broken by grief, the JIargrave explained what had
occurred. Gottfried's information was l>ut ti)o correct. There was
a cause for the likeness between Otto and Sir Hildebrandt : a fatal
cause ! Hildebrandt and Theodora had met at dawn at the outer
gate. The Margrave had seen them. They walked along together ;
they embraced. Ah ! how the husband's, the father's, feelings were
harrowed at that embrace ! They parted ; and then the Margrave,
coming forward, coldly signified to his lady that she was to retire to
a convent for life, and gave orders that the boy should be sent too,
to take the vows at a monastery.
Both sentences had been executed. Otto, in a boat, and guarded
by a company of his father's men-at-arms, was on the river going
towards Cologne, to the monastery of Saint Buifo there. The Lady
Theodora, under the guard of Sir Gottfried and an attendant, were
on their way to the convent of Nonnenwerth, which many of our
readers have seen — the beautiful Green Island Convent, laved hy
the bright waters of the Rhine !
" What road did Gottfried take ■? " asked the Knight of Hom-
bourg, grinding his teeth.
" You cannot overtake him," said the Margrave. " My good
Gottfried, he is my only comfort now : he is my kinsman, and
shall be my heir. He will be back anon."
" Will he so 1 " thought Sir Ludwig. " I will ask him a few
questions ere he return." And springing fi'om his couch, he began
forthwith to put on his usual morning dress of complete armour ;
and, after a hasty ablutiiui, donned, not his cap of maintenance, but
his helmet of battle. He rang the bell violently.
" A cup of coffee, straight," said he, to the servitor who answered
the summons ; " bid the cook pack me a sausage and bread in
paper, and the groom saddle Streithengst : we have far to ride."
The various orders were obeyed. The horse was brought ; the
refreshments disposed of ; the clattering steps of the departing steed
were heard in the courtyard ; but the Margrave took no notice of
his friend, and sat, plunged in silent grief, quite motionless by the
empty bedside.
10
CHAPTER V
THE TRAITOR'S DOOM
THE Hombourger led his horse down the winding path which
conducts from the hill and castle of Godesberg into the
beautiful green plain below. Who has not seen that lovely
plain, and who that has seen it has not loved it? A thousand
sunny vineyards and cornfields stretch around in peaceful luxuriance ;
the mighty Rhine floats by it in silver magnificence, and on the
opposite bank rise the seven mountains robed in majestic purple,
the monarchs of the royal scene.
A pleasing poet, Lord Byron, in describing this very scene, has
mentioned that " peasant girls, with dark blue eyes, and hands that
offer cake and wine," are perpetually crowding round the traveller
in this delicious district, and proffering to him their rustic presents.
This was no doubt the case in former days, when the noble bard
wrote his elegant poems — in the happy ancient days ! when maidens
were as yet generous, and men kindly ! Now the degenerate
peasantry of the district are nnich more inclined to a.sk than to give,
and their blue eyes seem to have disappeared with their generosity.
But as it was a long time ago that the events of our story
occurred, 'tis probable that the good Knight Ludwig of Hombourg
was gi'ceted upon his jiatli by this fascinating peasantry ; though
Ave know not how he accepted their welcome. He continued his
ride across the flat green covmtry until he came to Rolandseck,
whence he could command the Island of Nonnenwerth (that lies
in the Rhine opposite that i)lace), and all who went to it or passed
from it.
Over the entrance of a little cavern in one of the rocks hanging
above the Rhine-stream at Rolandseck, and covered with odoriferous
cactuses and silvery magnolias, the traveller of the present day may
perceive a rude broken image of a saint : that image represented the
veneraljle Saint Buffo of Bonn, the patron of the Margrave ; and
Sir Ludwig, kneeling on the greensward, and reciting a censer, an
ave, and a couple of acolytes before it, felt encouraged to think that
the deed he meditated was about to be performed under the very
eyes of his friend's sanctified patron His devotion done (and the
THE TRAITOR'S DOOM 449
knight of those clays was as pious as lie was brave), Sir Ludwig,
the galhint Hombourger, exclaimed with a loud voice : —
" Ho ! hermit ! holy hermit, art thou hi thy ccU ? "
" Who calls the poor servant of Heaven and Saint Buffo ? "
exclaimed a voice from the cavern; and presently, from beneath
the wreaths of geranium and magnolia, appeared an intensely
venerable, ancient, and majestic head^ — 'twas that, we need not say,
of Saint Buffo's solitary. A silver beard hanging to his knees gave
his person an appearance of great respectability ; his body was
robed in simple brown serge, and girt with a knotted cord ; his
ancient feet were only defended from the prickles and stones by
the rudest sandals, and his bald and polished head was bare.
"Holy hermit," said the knight in a grave voice, "make ready
thy ministry, for there is some one about to die."
" Where, son 1 "
" Here, father."
" Is he here, now 1 "
"Perhaps," said the stout warrior, crossing himself; "but not
so if right prevail." At this moment he caught sight of a ferry-
boat putting off from iN onnenwerth, with a knight on board. Lud-
wig knew at once, by the sinople reversed and the truncated gules
on his surcoat, that it was Sir Gottfried of Godesberg.
" Be ready, father," said the good knight, jwintiug towards the
advancing boat ; and waving his hand by way of respect to the
reverend hermit, without a further word he vaulted into his saddle,
and rode back for a few score of paces, when he wheeled round, and
remained steady. His great lance and pennon rose in the air. His
armour glistened in the sun ; the chest and head of his battle-horse
were similarly covered with steel. As Sir Gottfried, likewise armed
and mounted (for his horse had been left at the ferry hard by),
advanced up the road, he almost started at the figure before him —
a glistening tower of steel.
" Are you the lord of this ])ass, Sir Knight ? " said Sir Gottfried
haughtily, " or do ycju hold it against all comers, in honour of
your lady-love ? "
" I am not the lord of this pass. I do not hold it against all
comers. I hold it but against one, and he is a liar and a traitor."
"As the matter concerns me not, I i)ray you let me pass," said
Gottfried.
" The matter does concern thee, Gottfried of Godesberg. Liar
and traitor ! art thou coward, too 1 "
" Holy Saint Buffo ! 'tis a fight ! " exclaimed the old hermit
(who, too, had been a gallant warrior in his day) ; and like the old
war-liorse that hears the trumpet's sound, and spite of his clerical
2 K
450 A LEGEXD OF THE EHIXE
professio]!, he prepared to look on at the combat with no ordinary
eagerness, and sat down on the overhanging ledge of the rock,
lighting his pipe, and affecting unconcern, but in reality most deeply
interested in the event which was about to ensue.
As soon as the word "coward" had been pronounced by Sir
Ludwig, liis opponent, uttering a curse far too horrible to be in-
scribed here, had wheeled back his powerful piebald, and brought
his lance to the rest.
" Ha ! Beause'ant ! " cried he. " Allah humdillah ! " 'Twas the
battle-cry in Palestine of the irresistible Knights Hospitallers.
'■' Look to thyself, Sir Knight, and for mercy from Heaven. / will
give thee none."
"A Bugo for Katzenellenbogen ! " exclaimed Sir Ludwig piously:
that, too, was the well-known war-cn,- of his princely race.
" I will give the signal," said the old hermit, waving his pipe.
" Knights, are you ready? One, two, three. Los ! " (Let go).
At the signal, the two steeds tore up tlie ground like whirl-
winds ; the two knights, two flashing perpendicular masses of steel,
rapidly converged; the two lances met upon the two shields of
either, and shivered, splintered, shattered into ten lumdred thousand
pieces, which whirled through the air liere and there, among the
rocks, or in the trees, or in the river. The two horses fell back
trembling on their haunches, where they remained for half a minute
or so.
" Holy Buffo ! a brave stroke ! " said the ohl hcnnit. " Marry,
but a splinter a\ ell-nigh took off my nose ! " The honest hermit
waved his pij)e in delight, not perceiving that one of the splinters
had carried of the head of it, and rendered his fiivourite amuse-
ment impossible. " Ha ! tliey are to it again ! my ! how they
go to witli their great swords I Well stricken, grey ! Well
paiTied, i)iebald ! Ha, that was a slicer ! Go it, ])iebald ! go it,
grey ! — go it, grey ! go it, pie Peccavi ! ]ieccavi ! " said the old
man, here suddenly closing his eyes, and falling downi on his knees.
" I forgot I was a man of peace." And the next moment, uttering
a hiisty matin, lie sprang down the ledge of rock, and wivs by the
side of the condjatants.
The battle was over. Good knight as Sir Gottfried was, his
strength and skill liad not been able to overcome Sir Ludwig the
Hombourger, with right on his side. He was bleeding at everv
j)oint of his armour : he had been run through the body several
times, and a cut In tierce, delivered with tremendous dexterity, had
cloven the crown of his helmet of Damascus steel, and passing
through the cerebelkuu and sensorium, had split his nose almost
ia twain.
THE TRAITOR'S DOOM 451
His mouth foaming — his face almost gi-eeu — his eyes full of
blood — his brains spattered over his forehead, and several of his
teeth knocked out — the discomfited "warrior presented a ghastly
spectacle, as, reeling under the effects of the last tremendous blow
which the Knight of Hombourg dealt. Sir Gottfried fell heavily from
the saddle of his piebald charger; the frightened animal whisked
his tail wildly with a shriek and a snort, plunged out his hind legs,
trampling for one moment upon the feet of the prostrate Gottfried,
thereby causing him to shriek with agony, and then galloped away
riderless.
Away ! ay, away ! — away amid the green vineyards and
golden cornfields ; away up the steep mountains, where he friglitened
the eagles in their eyries ; away down the clattering ravines, where
the flashing cataracts tundjle ; away through the dark pine-forests,
where the hungry wolves are howling ; away over the dreary wolds,
where the wild wind walks alone ; away through the plashing ciuag-
mires, where the will-o'-the-wisp slunk frightened among the reeds ;
away through light and darkness, storm and sunshine ; away by
tower and town, highroad and liandet. Once a turnj»ikc-man would
have detained him ; but, ha ! ha ! he charged the pike, and cleared
it at a bound. Once the Cologne Diligence stopped the Avay : he
charged the Diligence, he knocked off the cap of the conductor on
the roof, and yet gallojxid wildly, mailly, furiously, irresistibly on !
Brave horse ! gallant steed ! snorting child of Araby ! On went the
horse, over mountains, rivers, turnpikes, apple-women ; and never
stopped until he reached a livery -stable in Cologne where liis master
was accustomed to put liim uj).
CHAPTER VI
THE CONFESSION
BUT -we have forgotten, meanwhile, tlic prostrate individual.
Having examineil the woiukIs in his side, legs, head, and
throat, the old hermit (a skilful leech) knelt down l).v the side
of the vanquished one and said, " Sir Knight, it is my painful duty
to state to you that you are in an exceedingly dangerous condition,
and will not probably survive."'
" Say you so. Sir Priest 1 then 'tis time I make my confession.
Hearken you. Priest, and you. Sir Knight, whoever you lie."
Sir Ludwig (who, nuich aftected by the scene, ha<l Ijeen tying
his horse up to a tree) lifted his visor and said, "Gottfried of Godes-
berg! I am the friend of thy kinsman, ]\Iargnive Karl, whose
happiness thou hast ruined ; I am the friend of his diaste and
virtuous lady, whose fair fame thou hast belied ; I am the godfather
of young Count Otto, wliosc heritage thou wouldst have ajiprnpriated.
Tlierefore I met thee in deadly fight, and overcame thee, an<l have
well-nigh finished thee. Speak on."
" I have done all this," said the dying man, " an<l here, in my
last hour, repent me. The Lady Theodora is a siiotless lady : tlie
youthful Otto the true son of Ins father— Sir Hildebrandt is not his
lather, but his uncle."
"Gracious Buffo!" "Celestial Bugo ! " here said the hermit
and the Knight of Hombourg sinuiltaneously, clasjiing their hands.
"Yes, his uncle; but with the hnr-sinistcr in hi.s "scutcheon.
Hence he could never be acknowledged by the fondly ; hence, too,
the Lady Theodora's spotless purity (though the young peojde had
been lirought up together) could never be brought to own the re-
lationship."
" May I repeat your confession ? " asked the hernnt.
" With the greatest i)lea.sure in life : carry my confession to the
Margrave, and pray him give me pardon. Were there — a notary-
public present," slowly gasped the knight, the film of dissolution
glazing over his eyes, " I would ask— you — two — gentlemen to
witness it. I would gladly — sign tlio de]iosition — that is, if I
could wr-wr-wr-wr-ite 1 " A foint shuddering smile— a quiver, a
THE CONFESSION 453
gasp, a gurgle — the blood gushed from his mouth in black
volumes. . . .
" He will never sin more," said the hermit solemnly.
"May Heaven assoilzie him !" said Sir Ludwig. " Hermit, he
was a gallant knight. He died with harness on his back, and with
truth on his lips : Ludwig of Hombourg would ask no other
death. . . ."
An liour afterwards the principal servants at the Castle of
Godesberg were rather surprised to see the noble Lord Louis trot
into the courtyai'd of the castle, with a companion on the crupper
of his saddle. 'Twas the venerable Hermit of Eolaudseck, who, for
the sake of greater celerity, had adopted this undignified conveyance,
and whose appearance and little dumpy legs might well create
hilarity among the " pampered menials " who are always found
lounging about the houses of the great. He skipped off the saddle
with considerable lightness, however ; and Sir Ludwig, taking the
reverend man l)y the arm, anil frowning the jeering servitors into
awe, bade one of them lead him to the ])resence of His Highness the
Margrave.
" What has chanced 1 " said the inquisitive servitor. " The
riderless horse of Sir Gottfried was seen to gallop by the outer
wall anon. The Margrave's Grace has never quitted your Lord-
ship's cliamber, and sits as one distraught."
" Hold thy prate, knave, and lead us on ! " And so saying,
the Knight and his Reverence moved into the well-known apart-
ment, where, according to the servitor's description, the wretched
Margrave sat like a stone.
Ludwig took one of the kind broken-hearted man's hands, the
hermit seized the other, and began (but 011 account of his great age,
with a prolixity which we shall not endeavour to imitate) to narrate
the events which we have already described. Let the dear reader
fancy, the while his Reverence speaks, the glazed eyes of tlie
Margrave gradually lighting up with attention; the flush of joy
which mantles in his countenance — the start — the throb— the
almost delirious outl)urst of hysteric exultation with Miiich, when
the wliole truth was made known, he clasped the two messengers
of glad tidings to his breast, with an energy that almost choked the
aged recluse ! " Ritle, ride this instant to tjie Margi-avine — say I
have wronged her, that it is all right, that she may come back —
that I forgive her — that I apologise, if you will " — and a secretary
forthwith despatched a note to that effect, which was carried off by
a fleet messenger.
" Now write to the Superior of the monastery at Colo,gne, and
bid him send ine back my boy, my darling, my Otto — my Otto of
454 ^ LEGEND OF THE RHINE
roses ! " said the fond father, making the first play upon words he
had ever attempted in his hfe. But what will not paternal love
effect ? The secretary (smiling at the joke) wrote another letter,
and anotlier fleet messenger was despatched on another horse.
" And now," said Sir Ludwig playfully, " let us to lunch. Holy
hermit, are you for a snack 1"
The hermit could not say nay on an occasion so festive, and the
three gentles seated themselves to a plenteous repast; for which
the remains of the feast of yesterday offered, it need not be said,
ample means.
" They will be home 1)y dinner-time," said the exulting Hither.
" Ludwig ! reverend hermit ! we will carry on till then." And the
cup passed gaily round, and the laugh and jest circulated, while the
three happy friends sat confidently awaiting the return of the
Margravine and her son.
But alas ! said we not rightly at the commencement of a fonner
chapter, that betwixt the lip and the raised wine-cup there is often
many a spill ? that our hopes are high, and often, too often, vain ?
About tliree hours after tlie departure of the fii"st messenger, he
returnetl, and AAath an exceedingly long face knelt down and pre-
sented to the Margrave a billet to the following effect : —
" Convent of Nonnenwerth : Friday Aftti-iwon.
" Sir, — I have submitted too long to your ill-usage, and am
disposed to bear it no more. I will no longer be made the Initt of
your riliald satire, and the object of your coarse abuse. Last week
you threatened me with your cane ! On Tuesday last you threw a
Avine-decantcr at me, wliich hit the butler, it is true, but the inten-
tion Avas evident. Tliis morning, in the jiresencc of all the servants,
you called me by tlie most vile abominable name, which Heaven
forbid I should repeat ! You dismissed me from your liouse under
a false accusation. You sent me to this odious convent to be im-
nuu-ed for life. Be it so ! I will not come back, because, forsooth,
you relent. Anything is better than a residence with a wii-ked,
coarse, violent, intoxicated, brutal monster like yourself. I remain
here for ever, and blush to be obliged to sign myself
"Theodora von Godesberg.
" P.S. — I hope you do not intend to keep all my best gowns,
jewels, and wearing-apparel ; and make no doubt you dismissed
me from your house in order to make way for some vile hussy,
whose eyes I woidd Uke to tear out, T. V. G."
CHAPTER VU
THE SENTENCE
THIS singular document, illustrative of the passions of women
at all times, and particularly of the manners of the early
ages, struck dismay into the lieart of the Margrave.
" Ai-e her Ladyship's insinuations correct 1 " asked the licrmit
in a severe tone. " To correct a wife with a cane is a venial, I may
say a justifiable practice ; hut to iling a bottle at her is ruin, both
to the licjuor and to her."
" But she sent a carving-knife at me first," said the heart-
broken husband. " jealousy, cursed jealousy, why, why di<l I
ever listen to tliy green and yellow tongue 1 "
" They quaiTelled ; but they loved each other sincerch'," whis-
pered Sir Ludwig to the hermit ; who liegan to deliver forthwith a
lecture upon family discord and marital authority, Avhich woidd
have sent his two hearers to slee}), but for the arrival of tlie second
messenger, whom the Margrave had despatched to Cologne for his
son. This herald wore a still longer face than that of his comrade
who preceded him.
"Where is my darling?" roared the agonised parent. "Have
ye brought him with ye ? "
" N — no," said the man, hesitating.
" I will flog the knave soundly when he comes," cried the
father, vainly endeavouring, under an ai)pcarance of sternness, to
hide his inward emotion and tenderness.
" Please, your Higlniess," said the messenger, making a desperate
effort, " Count Otto is not at the convent."
" Know ye, knave, where he is 1 "
The swain solemnly said, " I do. He is there." He pointed as
he sjiake to the broad Rhine, that was seen from the casement,
lighted up by the magnificent hues of sunset.
" The7-e ! How mean ye there V gasped the Margi-ave, wrought
to a pitch of nei-vous fury.
■' Alas ! my good lord, when he was in the boat wliich was to
conduct him to the convent, he — he jumped suddenly from it, and
is dr-dr-owned."
456 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
" Carry that knave out and hang him ! " said the Margrave,
with a cahnness more dreadful than any outburst of rage. " Let
every man of tlie boat's crew be blown from the mouth of the
cannon on the tower — except the coxswain, and let him be "
What was to be done with the coxswain, no one knows ; for at
that moment, and overcome by his emotion, the Margrave sank
flown lifeless on the floor
CHAPTER VIII
THE CHILDE OF GODESBERG
IT must be clear to the dullest intellect (if amongst our readers wc
dare venture to presume that a dull intellect should be found)
that the cause of the Margrave's fainting fit, described in the
last chapter, was a groundless apprehension on tlie part of that too
solicitous and credulous nobleman regarding tlic late of his beloved
child. No, young Otto was not drowned. AVas ever hero of
romantic story done to death so early in the talc 1 Young Otto
was not tlrowned. Had such been the case, tlie Lord Margrave
would infallibly have died at the close of the last chapter ; and a
few gloomy sentences at its close would have denoted how the lovely
Lady Theodora became insane in the convent, and how Sir Ludwig
determined, upon the demise of the old hermit (consequent upon
the shock of hearing the news), to retire to the vacant hermitage,
and assume the robe, tlie beard, the mortifications of the late
venerable and solitary ecclesiastic. Otto was not drowned, and all
those personages of our history are consequently alive and well.
The boat containing the amazed young Count — for he knew not
the cause of his father's anger, and hence rebelled against the unjust
sentence which the Margrave had uttered — had not rowed many
miles, when the gallant boy rallied from his temporary surprise and
despondency, and determined not to be a slave in any convent of
any order : determined to make a desjierate effort for escape. At a
moment when the men were pulling liard against the tide, and
Kuno, the coxswa'n, was looking carefully to steer the barge
between some dangerous rocks and quicksands, which are frequently
met with in the majestic though dangerous river. Otto gave a
sudden spring from the boat, and with one single flounce was in tlie
boiling, frothing, swirling eddy of tlie stream.
Fancy the agony of the crew at the disappearance of their young
lord ! All loved him ; all would have given tlieir lives for him ; but
as they did not know how to swim, of course they declined to make
any useless plunges in search of him, and stood on their oars in
mute wonder and grief Once, his fair head and golden ringlets were
seen to arise from the water-; twice, puffing and panting, it appeared
458 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
for an instant again ; thrice, it rose but for one single moment : it
was the last chance, and it sunk, sunk, sunk. Knowing the recep-
tion they would meet with from their liege lord, the men naturally
did not go home to Godesberg, but, putting in at the first creek on
tlie opposite bank, fled into the Duke of Nassau's territory ; where,
a.s they have little to do with our tale, we will leave them.
But they little knew hov.^ expert a swimmer was young Otto.
Ho had disappeared, it is true : but why 1 because he had dived.
He calculatetl that his conductors would consider him drowned, and
the desire of liberty lending him wings (or we had rather say fins,
m this instance), the gallant boy swam on beneath the water, never
lifting his head for a single moment between Godesberg and Cologne
— the distance being twenty-five or thirty miles.
Escaping from observation, he landed on the Deutz side of the
river, repaired to a comfortable and quiet hostel there, saying he
had had an accident from a boat, and thus accounting for the
moisture of his liabiliments, and wiiile these were drying before a
fire in his cliamber, went snugly to bed, where he mused, not
without amaze, on the strange events of the day. " This morning,"
thought he, " a noble, and heir to a princely estate — this evening
an outcast, witli but a few bank-notes whicli my mannna luckily
gave me on my birthday. What a strange entry into life is this for
a young man of my family ! Well, I have courage and resolution :
my first attemi)t in life has been a gallant and suc(;essful one ; other
dangers will be conquered by similar bravery." And recommending
himself, his unhapi)y mother, and his mistaken father to the care
of their patron saint, Saint Butfo, the gallant-hearted boy fell
presently into such a sleep, as oidy the young, the healthy, the
innocent, and the extremely fatigued, can enjoy.
The fatigues of the day (and very few men but would be
fiitigued after swimming well-nigh thirty miles under water) caused
young Otto to sleep so profoundly, that he did not remark how,
after Friday's sunset, as a natural consequence, Saturday's Phoebus
illumined the world, ay, and sunk at his appointed hour. The
serving-maidens of the hostel, peeping in, marked him sleeping, and
blessing him for a pretty youth, tripped lightly from the chamber ;
the boots tried haply twice or thrice to call him (as boots will fein),
but the lovely boy, gi'v'ing another snore, turned on his side, and
was quite unconscious of the interruption. In a word, the youth
slept for six-and-thirty hours at an elongation ; and the Sunday
sun was shining, ami the bells of the hundred churches of Cologne
were clinking and tolling in pious festivity, and the burghers and
burgheresses of the town were trooping to vespers and morning
service when Otto awoke.
THE ClIILDE OF GODESBERG 459
As lie donned his clothes of tlic richest Genoa velvet, the
astonislied lioy coidd not at first aecount for liis dilKculty in l)utting
them on. "Marry," said he, "these hreeclies that my lilessed
mother" (tears tilled his fine eyes as he thou.Lcht of her) — "that my
blessed mother had made long on purpose, are now ten inehes t()(»
short for mc. Whir-r-r ! my coat cracks i' the back, as in vain I
try to buckle it round me ; and the sleeves reach no farther than
my elbows! What io this mystery*? Am I grown fat and tall in
a single night 1 Ah ! ah ! ah \ ah ! I have it."
The young and good-humoured Childe laughed merrily. Jle
bethought him of the reason of his mistake : his garments liad
shrunk from being five-and-twenty miles luuhir water.
But one remedy presented itself to his mind; and tliat we
need not say was to purchase new ones. Inquiring the way to
the most genteel ready-made clothes' establishment in the city of
Cologne, and finding it was kejit in the IMiiioriten Strasse, by an
ancestor of the celebrated Moses of London, the noble Childe hied
him towards the emporium ; but you may be sure did not neglect
to jjcrform his religious duties by the way. Entering tlu; cathedral,
he made straight for the shrine of St. Bufib, and, hiding himself
behind a })illar tlicre (fearing he might be recogniised by the Ai'ch-
liishop, or any of his father's numerous friends in Cologne), he
proceeded with his devotions, as was the i)ractice of the young
nobles of the age.
But though exceedingly int(nit upon the service, yet his eye
could not refrain from wandering a little round about him, and he
reniarked with suri)rise that the whole church was filled with
archers ; and he remcndiered, too, that he had seen in the streets
numerous other bands of men similarly attired in green. On asking
at the cathedral porch the cause of this assemblage, on(! of the
green ones said (in a jape), "Marry, youngster, you must be grren,
not to know that we are all bound to the castle of his Grace Duke
Adolf of Cleves, who gives an archery meeting once a year, and
jirizes for which we toxophilites nuister strong."
Otto, whose course hitherto had been undetermined, now immedi-
ately settle*] what to do. He straightway rej)aired to th(> rcady-iiKuh'
emporiiun of Herr Moses, and bidding that gentleman fiiniish liim
with an archer's complete dress, Moses speedily selected a, suit from
his vast stock, which fitted the youth to a t, and we need not say
was sold at an exceedingly moderate i)rice. So attired (and bidding
Herr Moses a cordial farewell), young Otto was a gorgeous, a noble,
a soul-insi)iring boy to gaze on. A coat and breeches of the most
brilliant pea-green, ornamente(l with a ])rofusii)n of brass buttons,
and fitting him with exquisite tightnesSj showed off a figure uu-
460 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
rivalled for slim symmetry. His feet were covered with peaked
buskins of buff leather, and a belt round his slender waist, of the
same material, held his knife, his tobacco-pipe and jiouch, and his
long shining dirk ; whicli, though the adventurous youth Iiad as yet
only employed it to fixsliion wicket-bails, or to cut bread-and-cheese,
he was now quite ready to use against the enemy. His personal
attractions were enhanced by a neat white hat, flimg carelessly and
fearlessly on one side of his open smiling countenance ; and his
lovely hair, curling in ten thousand yellow ringlets, fell over his
shoulder like golden epaulettes, and down his back as far as the waist-
buttons of his coat. I wairant me, many a lovely CiJlnerinn looked
after the handsome Childe with anxiety, and dreamed that night of
Cupid under the guise of " a bonny boy in gi-een."
So accoutred, the youth's next thought was, that he must supply
Jiimself with a bow. This he speedily purchased at the most
fashionable bowyer's, and of the best material and make. It was
of ivory, trimmed with pink ribbon, and the cord of silk. An
elegant quiver, beautifully painted and emljroidered, was slung
across his back, with a dozen of the finest arrows, tipped with steel
of Damascus, formed of the branches of the famous Upas tree of Java,
and feathered with the wings of the ortolan. These purchases being
comjoleted (together with that of a knapsack, dressing-case, change,
&c.), our young adventurer asked where was the hostel at which
the arcjiers were wont to assemble ? and being informed that it was
at the sign of the "' Golden Stag," hied him to that house of enter-
tainment, where, Ijy calling for quantities of liquor and beer, he
speedily made the accjuaiutance and acquired the goodwill of a
company of his future comrades who happened to be sitting in the
coffee-room.
After they had eaten and drunken for all, Otto said, addressing
them, " When go ye forth, gentles ? I am a stranger here, bound
as you to the archery meeting of Duke Adolf. An ye will admit a
youth into your company, 'twill gladden me iipou my lonely way 1 "
Tlie archers replied, " You seem so young and jolly, and you
spend your gold so very like a gentleman, that Ave'll receive you in
our band with pleasure. Be ready, for Ave start at half-past two ! "
At that hour accordingly the whole joyous company prepared to
move, and Otto not a little increased his popularity among theiu
by stepping out and having a conference with the landlord, which
caused the latter to come into the room where the archers were
a-ssembled previous to departure, and to say, "Gentlemen, the bill
is settled ! " — words never ungi-ateful to an archer yet : no, marry,
nor to a man of any other calling that I wot of.
They marched joyously for several leagues, singing and joking,
THE CHILDE OF GODESBERG 461
and telling of a thousand feats of love and chase and war. AVliile
thus engaged, some one remarked to Otto, that he was not dressed in
the regular uniform, having no feathers in his hat.
" I dai-e say I will find a feather," said the lad, smiling.
Then another gibed because his bow was new.
" Sec that you can use your old one as well. Master Wolfgang,"
said the luidistiu'bed youth. His answers, his bearing, his generosity,
his beauty, and his wit, insi)ired all his new tosophilite friends with
interest and curiosity, and they longed to see whether his skill with
the bow corresponded with their secret sympathies for him.
An occasion for manifesting this skill did not fail to present
itself soon — as indeed it seldom does to such a hero of romance as
young Otto was. Fate seems to watch over such : events occur to
them just in the nick of time ; they rescue virgins just as ogres are on
the point of devouring them ; they manage to be present at Court and
interesting ceremonies, and to see the most interesting people at the
most interesting moment ; directly an adventure is necessary for
them, that adventure occurs : and I, for my part, have often
wondered with delight (and never could penetrate the mystery of
the subject) at the way in which that huml)lest of romance heroes,
Signor Clown, Avhen he wants anything in the Pantomime, straight-
way finds it to his hand. Hov/ is it that — suppose he wishes to
dress himself up like a woman for instance, that minute a coalheaver
walks in Avith a shovel-hat that answers for a bonnet : at the very
next instant a but(,'her's lad passing with a string of sausages and a
biuidle of bladders luiconsciously helps- Master CloAAai to a necklace
and a tournurc, and so on through the whole toilet ? Dejiend ujion
it there is something wc do not wot of in that mysterious overcoming
of circumstances by great individuals : that apt and wondrous con-
juncture of the the Hour and the Man; and so, for my])art, when I
heard tJie above remark of one of the archers, th.at Otto had never
a feather in his bonnet, I felt sure that a heron would spring up in
the next sentence to supply him with an aigrette.
And such indeed was the fact : rising out of a morass by which
the archers were passing, a gallant heron, arching his neck, swelling
his crest, placing his legs behind him, and his beak and red eyes
against the wind, rose sloAvly, and offered the fairest mark in the
world.
" Shoot, Otto," said one of the archers. "You would not shoot
just now at a crow because it was a foul bird, nor at a hawk be-
cause it was a noble bird ; bring us down yon heron : it flies
slowly."
But Otto was busy that moment tying his shoestring, and Rudolf,
the third best of the archers, shot at the bird and missed it.
462 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
" Shoot, Otto," said Wolfgang, a youth who had taken a liking
to the young archer: "the bird is getting further and further."
But Otto was busy that moment whittling a willow-twig he had
just cut. Max, the second best archer, shot and missed.
"Then," said Wolfgang, "I must try m^^self: a plagme on you,
young spriugald, you have lost a noble chance ! "
Wolfgang prepared himself with all his care, and shot at the
bird. "It is out of distance," said he, "and a murrain on the
bird ! "
Otto, who by this time had done whittling his willow-stick
(having carved a capital caricature of Wolfgang upon it), flung the
twig down and said carelessly, " Out of distance ! Psliaw ! We
have two minutes yet," and fell to asking riddles and cutting jokes ;
to the which none of the archers listened, as they were all engaged,
their noses in air, watching th.e retreating bird.
" Where shall I hit him 1 " said Otto.
" Go to," said Rudolf, " thou canst see no limb of him : he is no
bigger than a flea."
" Here goes for his right eye ! " said Otto ; and stepping f irward
in the English manner (which his godfather having learnt in Palestine,
had taught him), he brought his bowstring to his ear, took a good
aim, allowing for the wind, and calculating the jDai-abola to a nicety.
Whizz ! his arrow went ofl'.
He took up the willow-twig again and began carving a head of
Rudolf at the other end, chatting and laughing, and singing a ballad
the while.
The archers, after standing a long time looking skywards with
their noses in the air, at last brought them down from the perpendi-
cular to the horizontal position, and said, " Pooh, this lad is a
humbug ! The arrow's lost ; let's go ! "
" Heads ! " cried Otto, laughing. A speck was seen japidly
descending from the heavens ; it grew to be as big as a crown-piece,
then as a partridge, then as a tea-kettle, and flop ! down fell a
magnificent heron to the ground, flouring poor ]\Iax in its fiill.
" Take the arrow out of his eye, Wolfgang," said Otto, without
looking at the bird : " wipe it and put it back into my quiver."
The arrow indeed was there, having penetrated right through
the pupil.
"Are you in league with Der Freischlitz?" said Rudolf, quite
amazed.
Otto laughing whistled the " Huntsman's Chorus," and said,
" No, my friend. It was a lucky shot : only a lucky shot. I was
taught shooting, look you, in the fashion of merry England, where
the archers are archers indeed."
THE CHILDE OF GODESBEKG 463
And so he cut off the heron's wing for a plume for his hat ; and
the archers walked on, much amazed, and saying, "AVliat a wonderful
country tliat merry England nuist l)c ! "
Far from feeling any envy at their comrade's success, the ji»Ily
archers recognised his superiority with pleasure ; and Wolfgang and
Rudolf csi)ceially held out their hands to the youiiker, and besought
the honour of his friendship. They continued tlieir walk all day,
and when night fell made choice of a good hostel you may be sure,
where over beer, punch, champagne, and every luxury, they drank
to the health of the Duke of Cleves, and indeed each other's healths
all I'ound. Next day tliey resumed their march, and continued it
without interruption, except to take in a supply of victuals here and
there (and it was found on these occasions that Otto, young as he
was, could eat four times as much as the oldest archer ])reseiit, and
drink to correspond); and these continued refreshments having given
them more than ordinary strength, tliey determined on making rather
a long march of it, and did not lialt till alter nightfall at the gates of
the little town of Windcck.
What was to be done? the town gate.5 were shut. "Is there
no hostel, no castle v/here we can sleep 'I " asked Otto of the sentinel
at the gate. " I am so liungay that in lack of better food I tliink
I could eat my grandmamma."
The sentinel laughed at this hyperbolical exjiression of hunger,
and said, " You had be -it go sleep at the Castle of Windeck yonder;"
adding, with a peculiarly knowing hjok, "Nobody will <listurb you
there."
At that moment the moon broke out from a cloud, and showed
on a hill hard by a castle indeed — but the skeleton of a castle. The
roof was gone, the windows were dismantled, the towers were
tumbling, and the cold moonlight pierced it through and tlirougli.
One end of the building was, however, still covered in, and stood
looking still more frowning, vast, and gloomy, even than the other
part of the edifice.
" There is a lodging, certainly," sai 1 Otto to the sentinel, who
pointed towards the castle witJi his bartizan ; " but tell me, good
fellow, what are we to do for a supper ? "
"Oh, the castellan of Windeck will entertain you," said the
man-at-arms with a grin, and marched u]! the embrasure ; the while
the archers, taking counsel among themselves, debated whether or
not they should take up their quarters in the gloomy and deserted
edifice.
"We shall get nothing but an owl for supper there," said young
Otto. " Marry, lads, let us storm the town ; we are thirty gallant
fellows, and I have heard the garrison is not more than three hundred."
11
464 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
But the rest of the party tliought such a way of getting supper was
not a very cheap one, and, grovelling knaves, preferred rather to
sleep ignobly and without victuals, than dare the assault with Otto,
and die, or conquer something comfortable.
One and all then made their way towards the castle. They
entered its vast and silent halls, frightening the owls and bats that
fled before them witli hideous hootings and flappings of wings, and
passing by a nudtiplicity of mouldy stairs, dank reeking roofs, and
rickety corridors, at last came to an apartment which, dismal and
dismantled as it was, appeared to be in rather better condition than
the neighbouring chambers, and they therefore selected it as tlieir
place of rest for the night. They then tossed up which should
mount guard'. The first two hours of watch fell to Otto, wlio was
to be succeeded by his young though humble friend Wolfgang ; and,
accordingly, the Childe of Godesberg, drawing liis dirk, began to
pace upon his weary round ; while liis comrades, by various grada-
tions of snoring, told how profoundlv they slept, spite of their lack
of supper.
'Tis needless to say what were the thoughts of the noble Childe
as he performed his two hours' watch ; wliat gushing memories
poured into his full soul ; what " sweet and bitter " recollections of
home inspired his throbbing heart ; and wliat manly aspirations
after fame buoyed him up. "Youth is ever confident," says the
bard. Happy, hapjiy season ! The moonlit hours passed by on
silver wings, the twinkling stars looked friendly down upon him.
Confiding in their youthful sentinel, sound slept the valorous
toxophilites, as up and down, and there and back again, marched
on the noble Childe. At length his repeater told him, much to
his satisfaction, that it was half-past eleven, the hour when liis
watch was to cease ; and so, giving a playful kick to the slumbering
Wolfgang, tliat good-humoured fellow sjtrung up from his lair, and,
drawing his sword, proceeded to relieve Otto.
Tlie latter laid him down for warmth's sake on the very spot
which his comrade liad left, and for some time could not sleep.
Realities and visions then began to mingle in his mind, till he scarce
knew which was which. He dozed for a minute ; then he woke
with a start ; then he went oft' again ; then Avoke up again. In one
of these lialf-sleeping moments he thought he saw a fi.gure, as of a
woman in white, gliding into tlie room, and beckoning Wolfgang
from it. He looked again. Wolfgang was gone. At that moment
twelve o'clock clanged from the town, and Otto started up.
CHAPTER IX
THE LADY OF U'lNDECK
AS the bell with iron tongue called midnight, Wolfgang the
Archer, pacing on his watch, beheld before him a pale female
^ figure. He did not know wlience she came : but there sud-
denly she stood close to him. Her blue, cleai', glassy eyes were
fixed ujion liim. Her form was of faultless beauty ; her face pale
as the marble of the fairy statue, ere yet tlie sculptor's love liad
given it life. A smile played ujion her features, but it was no
warmer than the reflection of a moonbeam on a lake ; and yet it was
wondrous beautiful. A fascination stole over tlie senses of young
Wolfgang. He stared at the lovely apparition Avith fixed eyes and
distended jaws. She looked at him with inefialile archness. She
lifted one beautifully rounded alabaster arm, and made a sign as
if to beckon him towards her. Did Wolfgang — the young and
lusty Wolfgang — follow ? Ask the iron whether it follows the
magnet 1 — ask the pointer whether it pursues the i)artri(]ge through
the stubble 1 — ask the youth whether the lollypop-shop does not
attract him 1 Wolfgang did follow. An antiipie door opened, as
if by magic. There was no liglit, and yet tliey saw quite ])lain ;
they passed through the innumerable ancient cliambers, and yet
they did not wake any of the owls and bats roosting tliere. We
know not through liow many apartments the young couple passeil ;
but at last they came to one where a feast was prepared ; and on
an antique table, covered with massive silver, covers were laid fir
two. The lady took her })lace at one end of the table, and with
her sweetest nod beckoned Woltgang to the otlier seat. He took
it. The table was small, and their knees met. He felt as cold
in his legs as if he were kneeling against an ice-well.
" Gallant archer," said she, " you must be hungry after your
day's marcli. What sujipcr will you have ? Shall it be a delicate
lobster salad'? or a dish of elegant tripe and onions'? or a slice ol
boar's-head and truffles 1 or a Welsh ]-abbit a la cave an cidre ? or
a beefsteak and shallot '? or ft couple of rognons a la hrochette ?
Speak, brave bowyer : you have but to order."
As there was nothing on tlie table but a covered silver dish,
466 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
Wolfeang thought th.at the lady who i)roposed such a multiplicity
of delicacies to him was only laughing at him ; so he determined
to try her with something extremely rare.
" Fair princess," he said, " I should like very much a pork-chop
and some mashed potatoes."
She lifted the cover : there was such a pork-chop as Simpson
never served, with a dish of mashed potatoes that would have
formed at least six portions in our degenerate days in Rupert Street.
When he had helped himself to these delicacies, the lady put the
cover on the dish again, and watched him eating with interest.
He was for some time too much occupied with his own food to
remark that his companion did not eat a morsel ; but big as it
was, his cliop was soon gone ; the shining silver of his plate was
scraped quite clean with his knife, and heaving a great sigh, he
confessed a hund^Ie desire for something to drink.
" Call for what you like, sweet sir," said the lady, lifting up a
silver filigree bottle, with an india-rubber cork, ornamented with
gold.
" Then," said Master Wolfgang — for the fellow's tastes were, in
sooth, very humble — " I call for half-and-half." According to his
wish, a pint of that delicious beverage was poured from the bottle,
foaming, into his beaker.
Having emptied this at a draught, and declared that on his
conscience it was the best tap he ever knew in his life, the young
man felt his appetite renewed ; and it is impossible to say how
many different dishes he called for. Only enchantment, he was
afterwards heard to declare (though none of his friends believed
him), could have given him the appetite he possessed on that
extraordinary night. He called for another pork-chop and potatoes,
then for pickled salmon ; tlien he thought he would try a devilled
turkey wing. " I adore the devil," said he.
" So do I," said the pale lady, with unwonted animation ; and
the dish was served straightway. It was succeeded by Ijlack-
puddivigs, tripe, toasted cheese, and — what was most remarkable —
every one of the dishes which he desired came from under the same
silver cover : which circumstance, when he had partaken of about
fourteen difiereuc articles, he began to find rather mysterious.
" Oh," said the ])ale lady, with a smile, " the mystery is easily
accounted for : the servants hear you, and the kitchen is beloivJ'
But this did not account for the manner in which more half-and-
half, bitter ale, punch (both gin and rum), and even oil and vinegar,
which he took with cucumber to his salmon, came out of the self-
same bottle from wliich the lady had first poured out his pint of
lialf-and-half.
THE LADY OF WINDECK 467
" Tliere are more things in lieaven and earth, Voracio," said his
arch entertainer, when he jjut. this question to her, " tlian are dreamt
of in your jjhilosophy : " and, sooth to say, the archer was by this
time in such a state, that he did not find anything wonderful
more.
" Are you hapj^y, dear youth 1 " said the lady, as, after his
collation, he sank back in his chair.
" Oh, miss, ain't I ! " was his interrogative and yet affirmative
reply.
" Should you like such a supper every night, Wolfgang ? "
continued the pale one.
" Why, no," said lie ; " no, not exactly ; not everi/ night : some
nights I should like oysters."
"Dear youth," said she, "be but mine, and you may have
them all the year round ! " The unhajjpy boy was too for gone to
suspect anytliing, otherwise this extraordinary speecli would have
told him that he was in suspicious company. A ijerson who can
offer oysters all the year round can live to no good purpose.
" Shall I sing you a song, dear archer ? " said the lady.
" Sweet love ! " said he, now much excited, " strike up and I
will join the chorus."
She took down her mandolin, and commenced a ditty. 'Twas a
sweet and wild one. It told how a lady of higli lineage cast her
eyes on a peasant i^age ; it told how nought could her love assuage,
her suitor's wealth and her father's rage ! it told how the youth did
his foes engage ; and at length they went off in the Gretna stage,
the high-])orn dame and the peasant page. Wolfgang beat time,
waggled his head, sung woefully out of tune as the song proceeded ;
and if he had not been too intoxicated with love and other excite-
ment, he would have remarked how the pictures on the wall, as the
lady sang, began to waggle their heads t(30, and ncd and grin to the
music. The song ended. " I am the lady of high lineage : Archer,
will you be the peasant page 1 "
" I'll follow you to the devil ! " said Wolfgang.
" Come," replied the lady, glaring Avildly on him, " come to the
chapel ; we'll be married this minute ! "
She held out her hand — Wolfgang took it. It was cold, damp,
— deadly cold ; and on they went to the chapel.
As they passed out, the two pictures over the wall, of a
gentleman and lady, tripi)ed lightly out of their frames, skipped
noiselessly down to the ground, and making the retreating coujile a
profound curtsey and bow, took the i)laccs which they had Iclt at
the table.
Meanwhile the young couple passed on towards the chapel,
468 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
threading innumerable passages, and passing through cliambers of
great extent. As they came along, all the portraits on the wall
stepped out of their frames to follow tliem. One ancestor, of whom
tliere was only a bust, frowned in the greatest rage, because, having
no legs, his pedestal would not move ; and several sticking-plaster
])rofiles of the former Lords of Windeck looked quite black at being,
for similar reasons, compelled to keep their places. However, there
was a goodly procession formed behind Wolfgang and liis bride ;
and by the time they reached the church, they had near a hundred
followers.
The church was splendidly illuminated ; the old banners of the
old knights glittered as they do at Drury Lane. The organ set up
of itself to jjlay the " Bridesmaids' Chorus.'" The choir-chair.s were
filled with people in black.
" Come, love," said the pale lady.
" I don't see the parson," exclaimed Wolfgang, spite of himself
rather alarmed.
" Oh, the parson ! that's the easiest thing in the world ! I say,
bishop ! " said the lady, stooping down.
Stooping down — and to what ? Wliy, upon my word and
lionour, to a great brass plate on the floor, over which they were
passing, and on which was engraven the figure of a bishop — and
a very ugly bishop, too — witli crosier and mitre, and lifted finger,
on which sparkled the episcopal ring. "Do, my dear lord, come
and marry us," said the lady, with a levity which shocked the
feelings of her bridegroom.
The bishop got up ; and directly he ro.se, a dean, who was
sleeping under a large slate near him, came bowing and cringing
up to liim ; wliilo a canon of the cathedral (whose name was
Schidnisclimidt) began grinning and making fun at the pair. The
ceremony was begun, and
• ••••••
As the clock struck twelve, young Otto bounded up, and re-
marked the absence of his companion Wolfgang. The idea he had
had, that his friend disapi)eared in company with a white-robed
female, struck him more and more. " I will follow them," said he ;
and, calling to the next on the watch (old Snozo, who was right
unwilling to forego his sleep), he rushed away by the door through
which he had seen Wolfgang and his temptress take their way.
That he did not find them was not his fault. The castle was
vast, tlie chamber dark. There were a thousand doors, and what
wonder that, after he had once lost sight of them, the intrepid
Childe should not be able to follow in their steps 1 As might be
exj)ected, he took the wrong door, and wandered for at least three
THE LADY OF WINDECK 469
hours about the dark enormous solitary castle, calling out Wolf-
gang's name to the careless and indifferent echoes, knocking his
young shins against the ruins scattered in the darkness, hut still
with a spirit entirely undaunted, and a firm resolution to aid las
absent comrade. Brave Otto ! thy exertions were i-c\varded at last !
For he lighted at length upon the very apartment where Wolf-
gang had liartaken of supper, and where the old couple who had
been in the picture-frames, and turned out to l:;e the Indy's father
and mothei", were now sitting at tlie table.
" Well, Bertha has got a husband at last," said the lady.
"After waiting four hundred and fifty-three years for one, it
was quite time," said the gentleman. (He was dressed in ])ow(ler
and a pigtail, quite in the old fashion.)
"The husband is no great things," continued the lady, taking
snuff. "A low fellow, my dear; a butcher's son, I believe. Did
you see hew the wretch ate at supper? To thiidv my daughter
should have to marry an archer ! "
" There are archers and archers," said the old man. " Some
archers are snobs, as yoiu- Ladyship states ; some, on the contrary,
are gentlemen by birth, ot least, though not by breeding. Witness
voung Otto, the Land^-ave of Godesberg's ;:on, who is listening
at the door like a lacquev, and wliom I intend to run through
the "
" Law, Baron ! " said the lady.
" I will, though," replied the Baron, drawing an immense sword,
and glaring round at Otto : but though at tlie sight of that sword
and that scowl a less valorous youth would have taken to his heels,
the luidauntcd Childe advanced at once into the apartment. He
wore round his neck a relic of Saint Buffo (the tip of the saint's ear,
which had been cut off at Constantinople). " Fiends ! I command
you to retreat ! " said he, holding uj) this sacred charm, which liis
mamma had fastened on him ; and at the sight of it, witli an
unearthly yell the ghosts of the Baron and the Baroness sprang
back into their picture-frames, as clown goes through a chick in a
pantomime.
He rushed through the ojx'u door hy which the unlucky Wolf-
gang had passed with his demoniacal l-.ride, and went on and on
through the vast gloomy chambers lighted by the ghastly moon-'
shine : the noise of the organ in the chapel, the lights in the
kaleidoscopic windows, directed him towards that edifice. He
rushed to the door : 'twas barred ! He knocked : the Ijcadles were
deaf. He applied his inestimable relic to the lock, and — whizz !
crash ! clang ! bang ! whang ! — the gate flew open ! the organ went
off in a fugue — the lights quiveied over the tapers, ;nid then went
470 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
off towards the ceiling — the ghosts assembled rushed away with a
skurry and a scream — the bride howled, and vanished — the fat
bishoji waddled back under his brass plate — the dean flounced dovvTi
into his family vault — and the canon Schidnischmidt, who was
making a joke, as usual, on the bishop, was obliged to stop at the
very point of his epigram, and to disappear into the void whence
he came.
Otto fell fixinting at the porch, while Wolfgang tumbled lifeless
down at the altar-steps ; and in this situation the archers, when
they arrived, found the two youths. They were resuscitat<>d, as we
scarce need say ; but when, in incoherent accents, they came to tell
tlieir wondrous tale, some sceptics among the archers said — " Pooh !
they were intoxicated ! " while others, nodding their older heads,
exclaimed — •" They have seen the Lady of Windeck ! " and recalled
the stories of many other yoimg men, who, inveigled by her devilish
arts, had not been so lucky as Wolfgang, and had disappeared —
for ever !
This adventure bound "\^^olfgang heart and soul to his gallant
preserver ; and the archers — it being now morning, and the cocks
crowing lustily round about — pursued their way without further
delay to the castle of the noble patron of toxophilites, the gallant
Duke of Oleves.
i
CHAPTER K
THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN
A LTHOUGH there lay an immense number of castles and abbeys
/A between '\^'in(leck and Cleves, for every one of which the
-* *- guide-books have a legend and a ghost, who might, with the
commonest stretch of ingenuity, be made to waylay our adventurers
on the road ; yet, as the journey would be thus almost interminable,
let us cut it short by saying that the travellers reached Cleves with-
out any further accident, and found the place thronged with visitors
for the meeting next day.
And here it would be easy to describe the company Avhich arrived,
and make display of antiquarian lore. Now we would reiiresent a
cavalcade of knights arriving, with their pages carrying their shining
helms of gold, and the stout esquires, bearers of lance and banner.
Anon would arrive a fat abbot on his ambling pad, surrounded by the
white-robed comjjanions of his convent. Here should come the glee-
men and jongleurs, the minstrels, the mountebanks, the particoloured
gipsies, the dark-eyed, nut-brown Zigeunerinnen ; then a troop of
peasants clianting Rhine-songs, and leading in their ox-drawn carts the
peach-cheeked girls from the vine-lands. Next we would depict the
litters blazoned with armorial bearings, from Ijetween the broidered
curtains of which peeped out the swan-like necks and the haughty
faces of the blonde ladies of the castles. But for these descriptions
we have not space ; and the reader is referred to the account of tho
tournament in the ingenious novel of " Ivanhoe," where the above
phenomena are described at length. Suffice it to say, that Otto and
Ills companions arrived at the town of Cleves, and, hastening to a
hostel, reposed themselves after the day's march, and prepared them
for the encounter of the morrow.
That morrow came : and as the sports were to begin early, Otto
and his comrades hastened to the field, armed with their best bows
and arrows, you may be sure, and eager to distinguish themselves ;
as were the multitude of other archers assembled. They were from
all neiglibouring countries — crowds of English, as you may fancy,
armed M'ith Murray's guide-books, troops of chattering Frenchmen,
Frankfort Jews with roulette-tables, and Tyrolese with doves and
472 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
trinkets — all liied towards the field where the l)utts were set up, and
the archery practice was to be held. The Childe and his brother
archei-s were, it need not be said, early on the ground.
Bat what words of mine can describe the young gentleman's
emotion when, preceded by a band of trumpets, bagpipes, ophicleides,
and otlier wind instruments, the Prince of Cleves appeared with the
Princess Helen, his daughter ? And ah ! what expressions of my
humble pen can do justice to the beauty of that young lady 1 Fancy
every charm which decorates the person, every virtue whicli orna-
ments tlie mind, every accomplishment which renders charming mind
and cliarming person douljly charming, and then you will have but
a foint and feeble idea of the beaiities of Her Highness the Princess
Helen. Fancy a complexion such as they say (I know not with what
justice) Rowland's Kalydor imjiarts to the users of that cosmetic ;
fancy teeth to which orient pearls are like Wallsend coals ; eyes,
which were so blue, tender, and bright, that while they ran you
through with their lustre, they healed you with their kindness ; a
neck and waist, so ravishingly slander and graceful, that the least
that is said about them the better ; a foot wliich fell upon the fliiwers
no heavier than a dewdrop — and this (^harming person set off by the
most elegant toilet that ever milliner devised ! The lovely Helen's
hair (which was as black as the finest vaiuiish for boots) was so long,
that it was borne on a cushion several yards behind her by the
maidens of her train ; and a hat, set oft' with moss-roses, suntiowers,
bugles, birds-of-paradise, gold lace, and pink ribbon, gave her a dis-
tiiKjw' air, which would have set the editor of the Mornlni/ Post
mad with love.
It had exactly the same eff"ect upon the noble Childe of Godes-
berg, as leaning on his ivory bow, with his legs crossed, he stood and
gazed on her, as Cujiid gazed on Psyclie. Their eyes met : it was
all over with both of them. A ])lush came at one and the same
minute budding to tlie cheek of either. A simultaneous throb beat
in those young hearts ! They loved each other for ever from that
instant. Otto still stood, cross-legged, enraj)tured, leaning on his
ivory bow ; but Helen, calling to a maiden for her pocket-handkercliief,
blew her beautiful Grecian nose in order to hide her agitation. Bless
ye, bless ye, pretty ones ! I am oW now : l)ut not so old but that
I kindle at the tale of love. Theresa MacWhirter too has lived and
loved. Heigho !
Who is yon chief that stands belund the truck whereon arc
seated the Princess and the stout old lord her father ? Who is he
whose hair is of the carroty hue — whose eyes, across a snuljljy bunch
of a nose, are perpetually scowling at each other: who has a hunij)-
back, and a hideous mouth, surrounded witli bristles, and crammed
THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN ^73
full of jutting yellow odious teeth 1 Although he wears a sky-blue
doublet laced with silver, it only serves to render his vulgar i)unehy
figure doubly ridiculous ; although his nether garment is of salmon-
coloured velvet, it only draws the more attention to his legs, which
are disgustingly . crooked and bandy, A rose-coloured hat, with
towering pea-green ostrich-]ilumes, looks absurd on his bull-head ;
and though it is time of i)eace, the wretch is armed with a multipli-
city of daggers, knives, yataghans, dirks, sabres, and scimitars, which
testify his truculent and l)loo(ly disi)ositi()n. "Tis tlie terrible Rowski
de Donnerblitz, Margrave of Eulenschreckcnstein. Report says he
is a suitor for the hand of the lovely Helen. He addresses various
speeches of gallantry to her, and grins hideously as he thrusts his
disgusting head over her lily shoulder. But she turns away from
him ! turns and sliudders — ay, as she would at a black dose !
Otto stands gazing still, and leaning on his bow. "What is
the prize 1 " asks one archer of another. There are two prizes — a
velvet cap, embroidered l)y the hand of the Princess, and a chain of
massive gold, of enormous value. Both lie on cushions before her.
" I know which I shall choose, when I win the first prize," says
a swarthy, savage, and bandy-legged archer, who bears tlie owl
gules on a black shield, the cognisance of the Lord Rowski de
Donnerblitz.
" Wliich, fellow'?" says Otto, turning fiercely upon him.
" The chain, to be sure ! " says the leering archer. " You do
not suppose I am such a flat as to choose that velvet gimcrack
there 1 " Otto laughed in scorn, and began to prepare his bow.
The trumjiets sounding proclaimed that the sports were about to
commence.
Is it necessary to describe them? No: that has already been
done in tlie novel of " Ivanhoe " before mentioned. Fancy the
archers clad in Lincoln green, all coming forward in turn, and firing
at the targets. Some hit, some missed ; those that missed were
fain to retire amidst the jeers of the multitudinous spectiitors.
Those that liit began new trials of skill ; but it was easy to see,
from the first, that the battle lay between Squintoft" (the Rowski
archer) and the young hero with the golden hair and the ivory bow.
Squintoft"'s fame as a marksman was known throughout Europe ;
but who was his young competitor'? Ah! there was one heart in
the assembly that beat most anxiously to knov . 'Twas Helen's.
The crowning trial arrived. The buH's-eyc of the target, set up
at three-quarters of a mile distance from the archers, was so small,
that it required a very clever man indeed to see, much more to hit
it ; and as Squintoft' was selecting his arrow for the final trial, the
Rowski flung a purse of gold towards his archer, saying — " Squintoff,
474 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
an ye wiu the prize, the purse is thine." " I may as well pocket it
at once, your honoiu-," said the bowman, with a sneer at Otto.
•' This young chick, who lias been hicky as yet, will hardly hit such
a mark as that.'' And, taking his aim, SquintofF discharged his
arrow right into the very middle of tlie bull's-eye.
"Can you mend that, young springald?" said he, as a shout
rent the air at his success, as Helen turned pale to think that the
cliamjnon of her secret heart was likely to be overcome, and as
Squintoflf, pocketing the Rowski's money, turned to the noble boy
of Godesberg.
" Has anybody got a peaT' asked the lad. Everybody laughed
at his droll request; and an old woman, who was selling porridge
in the crowd, handed him the vegetable which he demanded. It
was a dry and yellow pea. Otto, ste])ping up to the target, caused
S juiutoff to extract his arrow from the bull's-eye, and placed in the
orifice made by the steel point of the shaft, the pea which he had
received from the old woman. He then came back to his place.
As he prepared to shoot, Helen was so overcome by emotion, that
'twas thought she would have fiiinted. Never, never had slie seen
a being so beautiful as the young hero now before her.
He looked almost divine. He flung back his long clusters of
hair from his bright eyes and tall forehead ; the blush of health
mantled on his cheek, from which the barber's weapon had never
sliorn the down. He t(5ok his bo'\\^, and one of his most elegant
arrows, and poising himself lightly on his right leg, he flung himself
forward, raising liis left leg on a level with his car. He looked like
Apollo, as he stood balancing himself there. He discharged his
dart from the thmmming bowstring : it clova the blue air — whizz !
" He has sjdit the jjea ! " said the Princess, and fainted. The
Rowski, with one eye, hurled an indignant look at the boy, while
witli the other he levelled (if aught so crooked can be said to level
anything) a furious glance at his archer.
The archer swore a sulky oath. " He is the better man I " said
he. " I suppose, young chap, you take the gold chain ? "
" The gold chain ! " said Otto. " Prefer a gold chain to a cap
worked by that august hand 1 Never ! " And advancing to the
balcony where the Princess, who now came to herself, was sitting,
he kneeled down before her, and received the velvet cap ; which,
blushing as scarlet as the cap itself, the Princess Helen placed on
his golden ringlets. Once more their eyes met — their hearts thrilled.
They had never spoken, but they knew they loved each other
for ever.
"Wilt thou take service with the Rowski of Donnerblitz ?"
said that individual to the youth. " Thou shalt be captain of my
THE BATTLE OF THE BOWMEN 475
archers in place of yon blundering nincompoop, whom thou hant
overcome."
" Yon blundering nincompoop is a skilful and gallant archer,"
replied Otto haughtily; "and I will 7iot take service with the
Rowski of Donnerblitz."
"Wilt thou enter the household of the Prince of Cleves'?" said
the father of Helen, laughing, and not a little anuised at the haughti-
ness of the humble archer.
"I would die for the Duke of Cleves and his family,'" said
Otto, bowing low. He laid a particular and a tender empliasis on
the word family. Helen knew what he meant. She was the
family. In fact, her mother was no more, and her papa had no
other offspring.
" What is thy name, good fellow," said the Prince, " that my
steward may enrol thee 1 "
" Sir," said Otto, again blushing, " I am Otto the Archer."
CHAPTER XI
THE MARTYR OF LOVE
THE archers who had travelled in company with young Otto,
uave a handsome dinner in compliment to the success of our
hero ; at which his friend distinguished himself as usual in
the eating and drinking dei)artment. SipiintofF, the Rowski bow-
man, declined to attend ; so great was the envy of the brute at the
youthful hero's superiority. As for Otto himself, he sat on the right
hand of the chairman ; but it was remarked that he could not eat.
Gentle reader of my page ! thou knowest why full well. He was
too much in love to have any appetite ; for though I myself, when
labouring \mder that passion, never found my consumption of victuals
diminish, yet rcmeml)er our Otto wjis a hero of romance, and they
never are hungry when they're in love.
The next day, the young gentleman i)rocecded to enrol himself
in the coY]^s of Archers of the Prince of Cloves, and with him came
his attached squire, who vowed he never would leave him. As
Otto threw aside his own elegant dress, and donned the livery of
tlie House of Cleves, the noble Childe sighed not a little. 'Twas a
splendid uniform, 'tis true, but still it was a livery, and one of his
pmud spirit ill bears anotlier's cognisances. " They are the colours
of the Princess, however," said he, consoling himself; "and what
suffering would I not undergo for her ? " As for Wolfgang, the
squire, it may well be supposed tliat the good-natured low-born
fellow had no such scruples ; but he was glad enough to exchange
for the pink hose, the yellow jacket, the pea-green cloak, and
orange-tawny hat, with which the Duke's steward supplied him,
the homely patched doublet of green which he had worn for years
past.
" Look at yon two archers," said the Prince of Cleves to his
guest the Rowski of Donnerblitz, as tliey were strolling on the
battlements after dinner, smoking their cigars as usual. His High-
ness pointed to our two young friends, who were mounting guard
for the first time. " See yon two bowmen — mark their bearing !
One is the youth who beat thy Sijuintoff, and t'other, an I mistake
not, won the third prize at the butts. Both wear the same uniform
THE MARTYR OF LOVE 477
— the colours of my house — yet, wouldst not swear that the one
was but a churl, and the other a noble gentleman 1 "
" Which looks like the nobleman 1 " said the Rowski, as black
as thunder.
"Which ? why, young Otto, to be sure,'' said the Princess Helen
eagerly. The young lady was following the pair; but under pre-
tence of disliking the odour of the cigar, she liad refused the Rowski's
proffered arm, and was loitering behind with her parasol.
Her interposition in favour of her young protege only made the
black and jealous Rowski more ill-humoured. " How long is it, Sir
Prince of Cleves," said he, "tliat the churls who wear your livery
permit themselves to wear tlie ornaments of nol)lc knights ? Who
but a noble dare wear ringlets such as yon springald's ? Ho, archer ! '
roared he, " come hither, fellow." And Otto stood before him. As
he came, and i>resenting arms stood respectfully before the Prince
and his savage guest, he looked for one moment at the lovely Helen —
their eyes met, their liearts beat simultaneously : and, quick, two
little blushes appeared in the check of either. I liavc seen one
ship at sea answering anotlier's signal so.
While they are so regarding each other, let us just remind our
readers of the great estimation in which the hair was held in tlie
North. Only nobles were permitted to wear it long. When a man
disgraced himself, a shaving was sure to follow. Penalties were
inflicted upon villains or vassals avIio sported ringlets. See the
works of Aurelius Tonsor ; Hirsutus de Nobilitate Capillari ;
Rolandus de Oleo Macassari ; Schnurrbart ; Frisirische Alterthum-
skunde, &c.
" We must have those ringlets of thine cut, good fellow," said
the Duke of Cleves good-naturedly, but wishing to spare the feelings
of his gallant recruit. '''Tis against the regulation cut of my
archer guard."
" Cut off my hair ! " cried Otto, agonised.
" Ay, and thine ears with it, yokel," roared Donnerblitz.
" Peace, noble Eulenschreckenstein," said the Duke with dignity :
"let the Duke of Cleves deal as lie will Avith his own men-at-arms.
And you, young sir, unloose the grip of tliy dagger."
Otto, 'indeed, had convulsively .grasped liis snickersnee, with
intent to plunge it into the heart of the Rowski ; but his politer
feelings overcame him. " Tlie Count need not fear, my Lord," said
he : " a lady is present." And he took off his orange-tawny cap
and bowed low. Ah ! Avhat a pang shot through the heart of
Helen, as she thought that those lovely ringlets must be shorn from
that beautiful head !
Otto's mind was, too, in commotion. His feelings as a gentle-
478 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
man— let us add, his pride as a man — for who is not, let us ask,
proud of a good head of hair ? — waged ^ar witliin his soul. He
expostulated with the Prince. " It was never in my contempla-
tion," he said, " on taking service, to undergo the operation of
hair-cutting."
"Thou art free to go or stay, Sir Archer," said the Prince
pettishly. " I will liave no dnirls imitating noblemen in my service :
I will bandy no conditions witli archers of my guard."
" My resolve is taken," said Otto, irritated too in his turn.
" I will "
" What 1 " cried Helen, breathless with intense agitation.
"I will stni/," answered Otto. The poor girl almost fainted
with joy. The Rowski frowned with demoniac fury, and grinding
his teeth and cursing in the liorriljle German jargun, stalkeil away.
" So be it," said the Prince of Cleves, taking his daughter's arm —
" and here comes Snipwitz, my barber, who shall do the business
for you." With this the Prince *oo moved on, feeling in his heart
not a little comjiassion for the lad ; for Adolf of Cleves had been
handsonie in his youth, and distinguished for the ornament of which
he was mnv depriving his archer.
Snipwitz led the poor lad into a side-room, and there — in a
word — operated upon him. The golden cm-Is — fair curls that his
mother had so often played with ! — fell un<Ier the shears and round
the lad's knees, until he looked as if he was sitting in a batii of
simlieanis.
When the frightful act had been i)Crformed, Otto, who entered
the little chamber in the tower ringleted like Apollo, issued from
it as cropped as a charity-boy.
See how melancholy he looks, now that the operatinu is over!
— And no wonder. He was thinking what would \)c Helen's
opinion of him, now that one of his chief i)ersonal ornaments was
gone. "Will she know me?" thought he; "will she lovc me after
this liideous mutilation 1 "
Yielding to these gloomy thoughts, and, indeed, rather unwilling
to be seen by his comrades, now that he wjus so disfigured, the young
gentleman had hidden himself behind one of tlie buttresses of the
wall, a prey to natural despondency ; when he saw .something which
instantly restored him to good spirits. He saw the lovely Helen
coming towards the chamber where the oilious barber had jjerformed
upon him — coming forward timidly, looking round her anxiou.sly,
blushing with delightful agitation, — and ])resently seeing, as she
tliought, the coast clear, she entered the apartment. She stooped
down, and ah ! what was Otto's joy when lie saw her pick up a
beautiful golden lock of his hair, press it to her lips, and then hide
THE MARTYR OF LOVE 479
it in her Im.som ! No carnatiuii ever bluslied so redly as Helen did
when she came out after performing this feat. Then she hurried
straightway to her own apartnu>nts in the castle, an<l Otto, Avhose
first impulse was to come out fiom his hiding-place, and, falling
at her feet, call heaven and earth to witness to his jjassion, with
difficulty restrained his feelings and let her jmss : but the love-
stricken young hero was so delighted with this evident proof of
reciprocated attachment, that all regret at losing his ringlets at once
left him, and he vowed he would sacrifice not only his liair, but
his head, if need were, to do her service.
That very afternoon, no small bustle and conversation took
place in the castle, on account of the sudden departure of the
Rowski of Eulenschreckenstein, with all his train and equipage.
He went away in the greatest wrath, it was said, after a long and
loud conversation with the Prince. As that potentate conducted
his guest to the gat(.', walking rather denuu'ely and shamefacedly
by his side, as he gathered his attendants in the court, and there
mounted his charger, the Rowski ordered his trumi)ets to sound,
and scornfully flung a largesse of gold among the servitors and men-
at-arms of the House of Cleves, who were marshalled in the court.
" Farewell, Sir - Prince," said he to his host : " I quit you now
suddenly; but remend)er, it is not my last visit to the Castle of
Cleves." And ordering his band to i)lay " See the Conquering Hero
comes," he clattered away through the drawbridge. The Princess
Helen was not present at his dei)arture ; and the venerable Prince
of Cleves looked rather moody and chajifallen when his guest left
him. He visited all the castle defenct^s pretty accurately that
night, and inquired of his oificers the state of the amnuuiition, pro-
visions, &c. He said nothing ; but the Princess Helen's maid did :
and everybody knew that the Rowski had made his proposals, had
been rejected, and, getting up in a violent fury, had called for his
people, an<l sworn by his great gods that he would not enter the
castle again until he rode over the breach, lance in hand, the con-
queror of Cleves and all belonging to it.
ISio little consternation was si)read through the garrison at the
news : for everybody knew the Rowski to be one of the most
intrepid and powerful soldiers in all Germany — one of the most
skilful generals. Generous to extravagance to his own followers,
he was ruthless to the enemy : a hundred stories were told of the
dreadful barbarities exercised by him in several towns and castles
which he had captured and sacked. And poor Helen had the pain
of thinking, that in consequence of her refusal she was dooming all
the men, women, and children of the principality to indiscriminate
and iiorrible slaughter.
13
48o A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
The dreadful surmises regarding a war received iu a few days
dreadful confirmation. It was noon, and the worthy Prince of
Cleves was taking liis dinner (though the honest warrior had had
little appetite for that meal for some time past), when trumpets
were heard at the gate ; and presently the herald of the Rowski of
Donnerblitz, clad in a tabard on which the arms of the Count were
blazoned, entered the dining-hall. A page bore a steel gauntlet on
a cushion ; Bleu Sanglier had his hat on his head. The Prince of
Cleves put on his own, as the herald came up to the chair of state
where tlie sovereign sat.
"Silence for Bleu Sanglier," cried the Prince gravely. "Say
your say. Sir Herald."
"In the name of the high and mighty Rowski, Prince of
Donnerblitz, Margrave of Eulenschrcckenstein, Count of Krotenwald,
Scthnauzestadt, and Galgenhiigel, Hereditary Grand Corkscrew of
the Holy Roman Empire — to you, Adolf the Twenty-third, Prince
of Cleves, I, Bleu Sanglier, bring war and defiance. Alone, and
lance to lance, or twenty to twenty in field or in fort, on plain or
on mountain, the noble Rowski defies you. Here, or wherever he
shall meet you, he proclaims war to the death between you and him.
In token whereof, here is his glove." And taking tlie steel glove
from the page. Blue Boar flung it clanging on the marble ll<.>or.
The Princess Helen turned deadly pale : but the Prince, with a
good assurance, flung down his own glove, calling upon f:'ome one to
raise the Rowski's : which Otto accordingly took up and presented,
to him, on his knee.
" Boteler, fill my goblet," said the Prince to that functionary,
who, clothed in tight black hose, witli a white kerchief, and a
napkin on his dexter arm stood obseiuiously by his masters cliair.
The goblet w^as filled with Malvoisie : it held about three quarts ;
a precious golden hauap carved by the cunning artificer, Beuvenuto
the Florentine.
"Drink, Bleu Sanglier," said the Prince, "and put the goblet
in thy bosom. Wear this chain, furthermore, for my sake." And
so saying. Prince Adolf flung a i)recious chain of emeralds round the
herald's neck. " An invitation to battle was ever a welcome call to
Adolf of Cleves." So saying, and bidding his people take good care
of Bleu Sanglier's retinue, the Prince left the hall v/ith his daughter.
All were marvelling at his dignity, courage, and generosit}\
But, thougli afl'ecting unconcern, the nund of Prince Adolf was
far from tranquil. He was no longer the stalwart knight who, in
tlie reign of Stanislaus Augustus, had, with his naked fist, beaten a
lion to death in three minutes : and alone had kept tiic i)ostern of
Peterwaradiu for two hours against seven hundreil Turkish janissaries,
THE MARTYR OF LOVE 481
who were assailing it. Those deeds whicli had made the heir of
Cleves famous were done thirty years syne. A free Uver since lie
had come into his principality, and of a lazy turn, he had neglected
the athletic exercises which had made him in youth so famous a
champion, and indolence had borne its usual fruits. He tried his
old battle-sword — that famous blade with which, in Palestine, ho
had cut an elephant-driver in two pieces, and split asunder the skull
of the elephant which he rode. Adolf of Cleves could scarcely now
lift the weapon over his head. He tried his armour. It was too
tight for him. And the old soldier burst into tears wh-en he fouml
he could not buckle it. Such a man was not fit to encounter the
terrible Rowski in single coml^at.
Nor could he hope to make head against him for any time in
the field. The Prince's territories were small ; his vassals pro-
verbially lazy and peaceable ; his treasury empty. The dismallest
prospects were before him : and he passed a sleepless night writing
to his friends for succour, and calculating with his secretary the
small amount of the resources whicli he could bring to aid him
against his advancing and powerful enemy.
Helen's pillow that evening was also unvisited by slumlicr. She
lay awake thinking of Otto, — thinking of the danger and the ruin
her refusal to marry had brought upon her dear papa. Otto, too,
slept not : but his waking thoughts were lirilliant and heroic : the
.noble Childe thought how he should defend the Princess, and wiu
los and honour in the ensuing combat.
CHAPTER XII
THE CHAMPIOX
AND uow the noble Cleves began in good earnest to prepare his
/A castle for the threatened siege. He gathered in all the
-^ *■ available cattle round the propert}', and the pigs round
many miles ; and a dreadful slaughter of horned and snouted animals
took place,— the whole castle resounding ^ith the lowing of the
oxen and the squeaks of the gruntlings, destined to provide food for
the garrison. These, when slain (her gentle spirit, of course, would
not allow of her witnessing that disagreeable operation), the lovely
Helen, with the assistance of her maidens, carefully salted and
pickled. Corn was brought in in great ciuantities, the Prince paying
for the same wlien he had money, giving bills when he could get
credit, or occasionally, marry, semling out a few stout men-at-arms
to forage, who brought in wheat without money or credit either.
The charming Princess, araiilst the intervals of her laboiu-s, went
about eucoiu"aging the garrison, who vowed to a man they would
die for a single sweet smile of hers ; and in order to make their
inevitable sufferings as easy as possible to the gallant fellows, she
and the apothecaries got ready a plenty of efficacious simples, and
scraped a vast quantity of lint to bind their warriors' wounds withal.
All the fortifications were strengthened ; the fosses carefiilly filled
with spikes and water ; large stones placed over the gates, con-
venient to tumble on the heads of the assaidting parties : and
caldrons prepared, with furnaces to melt up pitch, brimstone, boil-
ing oil, &c., wherewith hospitably to receive them. Having the
keenest eye in the whole garrison, young Otto was placed on the
topmost tower, to watch for the expected coming of the beleaguer-
ing host.
They were seen only too soon. Long ranks of shining spears
were seen glittering in the distance, and the army of the Rowski
soon made its appearance in battle's magnificently stem array.
The tents of the renowned chief and his numerous warriors were
pitched out of arrow-shot of the castle, but in fearful proximity : and
when his army had taken up its position, an officer with a flag of
truce and a trumpet was seen advancing to the castle gate. It was
THE CHAMPION 4^3
the same herald wlio liad previously borne his master's defiance ta
the Prince of Cleves. He came once more to the castle gate, and
tlicrt' iprnclaitiiod that the nol)le Count of Eulenschrcckonstein was
in arms without, r('U(l_y to do liattic witli tlie Prince of Cleves, or
his c-h:iiii]iioii ; that he Would remain in arms for lliree days, ready
for conihat. If no man met him at tlie end of that ])eri(»d, lie would
deliver an assault, and would give (juarter to no single soul in the
garrison. So saying, the herald nailed liis lord's gauntlet on the
castle gate. As before, the Prince flung liini over another glove
from the wall ; though how he was to dcfi'iid himself from such a
warrior, or get a champion, or resist the pitiless assault that must
follow, the troubled old nobleman knew not in the least.
The Princess Helen passed the night in the chajjcl, vowing tons
of wax candles to all the ]iatron saints of the House of Cloves,, if
they would raise her up a (h'l'cnder.
Put liow did Ihc noble girl's heart sink — how were her notion.^
of the imrity of man shaken within her gentle bosom, by the dread
intelligence which reached her the next morning, after the defiance
of the Rowski ! At roll-call it was discovered that he on v.hom she
principally relied — he wliom her fond heart had singled out as her
(•hami)ion, had proved faithless !
Otto, the degenerate Otto, had lied '. His comrade, Wolfgang,
had gone w'itli liim. A rope was found dangling from the casement
of tiieir chandler, and they must have swum the moat and passed
over to the enemy in the darkness of the previous night. "A ])retty
lad was this fair-spoken ardier of thine ! " said the Prince her father
to her; "and a j)retty kettle offish hast thou cooked for the fondest
of fatliers." She letired weeping to her ajiartment. Never before
had that young heart felt so wretched.
That morning, at innc; o'clock, as they were going to breakfast,
the Kowski's trumpets sounded. Clad in complete armour, and
mounted on his enormous piebald charger, he came out of his
pavilion, and rode slowly up and down in front of the castle. He
was ready there to meet a chamjiion.
Three times each day did the odious trumi)ct sound the same
notes of defiance. Thrice daily did the steel-clad llowski come forth
challenging the cond)at. The first day passed, and there was no
answer to liis summons. The secoml day came and went, but no
champion had risen to defend. The taunt of his .shrill <larion
remained without answer ; an<l the sun went down uim.ii the
wretchedest father and daughter in all the land of Christen<lom.
The trumpets sounded an hour aiter sunrise, an hour after noon,
and an hour before sunset. The third day came, but with it brought
no hoi)e. The first and second summons met no response. At five
484 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
o'clock the old Prince called his daughter and blessed her. " I go
to meet this Rowski," said he. " It may be we shall meet no more,
my Helen — my child — the innocent cause of all this grief. If I shall
fall to-night the Rowski's victim, 'twill be that life is nothing without
honour." And so saying, he put into her hands a dagger, and bade
her sheathe it in her own breast so soon as the terrible champion had
carried the castle by storm.
This Helen most faithfully jiromised to do ; and her aged father
retired to his armoury, and donned his ancient war-worn corselet. It
had borne the shock of a thousand lances ere this, but it was now so
tight as ahnost to choke the knightly wearer.
The last trumpet sounded — tantara ! tautara ! — its shrill call
rang over the wide plains, and the wide plains gave back no answer.
Again ! — but when its notes died away, there was only a niournful,
an awful silence. " Farewell, my child," said the Prince, bulkily
lifting himself into his battle-saddle. " Remember the dagger.
Hark ! the trumpet sounds for the third time. Open, warders !
Sound, trumpeters ! and good Saint Bendigo guard the right."
But Putfendorft", the trumpeter, had not leisure to lift the
trumpet to his lips : when, hark ! from v\-ithout there came another
note of another clarion ! — a distant note at first, then swelling
fuller. Presently, in brilliant variations, the full rich notes of the
" Huntsman's Chorus " came clearly over the breeze ; and a thousand
voices of the crowd gazing over the gate exclaimed, " A champion !
a champion ! "
And, indeed, a champion had come. Issuing from the forest
came a knight and squire : the knight gracefully cantering an
elegant cream-coloured Arabian of prodigious power — the squire
mounted on an unpretending grey cob ; which, nevertheless, was an
animal of considerable strength and sinew. It was the squire who
blew the trumpet, through the bars of his helmet ; the knight's
visor was completely down. A small prince's coronet of gold, from
which rose three pink ostrich-feathers, marked the warrior's rank :
his blank shield bore no cognisance. As gracefully ])oising his lance
lie rode into the green space where the Rowski's tents were pitched,
the hearts of all present beat with anxiety, and the poor Prince of
Cleves, especially, had considerable doubts about his new champion.
" So slim a figure as that can never compete with Donnerblitz,"
said he, moodily, to his daughter ; " but whoever he be, the fellow
puts a good face on it, and rides like a man. See, he has touched
the Rowski's shield with the point of his lance ! By Saint Bendigo,
a perilous venture ! "
The unknown knight had indeed defied the Rowski to the death,
as the Prince of Cleves remarked from the battlement where he and
&
THE CHAMPION 485
his daughter stood to witness the combat ; and 80, having defied his
enemy, the Incognito galloped round under the castle wall, bowing
elegantly to the lovely Princess there, and then took liis ground and
waited for the foe. His armour blazed in the sunshine as he sat
there, motionless, on his cream-coloured steed. He looked like one
of those fliiry kniglits one has read of — one of tliose celestial
champions who decided so many victories before the invention of
gunpowder.
The Rowski's horse vras speedily brought to the door of his
pavilion ; and that redoubted warriiu", lilazing in a suit of magnificent
brass armour, clattered into his saddle. Long waves of blood-red
feathers bristled over his helmet, which was further ornamented by
two huge horns of the aurochs. His lance was i)ainted white and
red, and he whirled the prodigious beam in the air and caught it
with savage glee. He laughed when he saw the slim form of
his antagonist; and his soul rejoiced to meet the coming 1)attle.
He dug his spurs into the enormous horse he rode : the enormous
horse snorted, and squealed, too, with fierce pleasure. He jerked
and curvetted him with a brutal playfulness, and after a few minutes
turning and wheeling, during wliich everybody had leisure to admire
the perfection of his eijuitation, he cantered round to a point exactly
opposite his enemy, and jiulled up his impatient charger.
Tlie old Prince on tlic battlement was so eager for tlie combat,
that he seemed quite to forget the danger which menaced himself,
should his slim champion be discomfited by the tremendous Knight
of Donnerblitz. " Go it ! " said he, flinging his trunciheon into the
ditch ; and at the word, the two warriors rushed with whirling
rapidity at each other.
And now ensued a combat so terriljle, that a weak female hand,
like that of her who pens this tale of chivalry, can never hi>{)e to do
justice to the terrific tlieme. You have seen two engines on tlie
Great Western line rush past each other with a pealing scream?
So rapidly did the two warriors gallop towards one another ; tlie
feathers of cither streamed yards behind their backs as they con-
verged. Their shock as they met was as tliat of two cannon-balls ;
the mighty horses trend )led and reeled with the concussion ; the
lance aimed at the Rowski's helmet bore ott" the coronet, the horns,
the helmet itself, and hurled them to an incredible distance : a ]nece
of the Rowski's left ear was carried oft on the point of the nameless
warrior's weapon. How had he fared? His adversary's Aveapon
had glanced harmless along the blank surfoce of his i)olislied buckler :
and the victory so far was with him.
The expression of the Rowski's fixce, as, bareheaded, he glared
ou his enemy with fierce bloodshot eyeballs, was one wortliy of a
486 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
demon. The imprecatory expressions ^yhich lie made use of can
never be copied by a feminine pen.
His opponent magnanimously declined to take advantage of the
opportunity thus offered him of finishing the combat by splitting his .
opponent's skull with his curtal-axe, and, riding back to his starting-
place, bent his lance's point to the ground, in token that he would
wait until the Count of Eulenschreckcnstein was helmeted afresh.
" Blessed Bcn<ligo ! " cried the Prince, " thou art a gallant lance :
but why didst not rap the Schelm's brain out 1 "
" Bring me a fresh helmet ! " veiled the Rowski. Another
casque was brought to him by his trembling squire.
As soon as he had braced it, he drew his great flashing sword
from his side, and rushed at his enemy, roaring hoarsely his cry of
battle. The unknown knight's sword was unsheathed iu a moment,
and at the next the two blades were clanking together the dreadful
music of the combat !
The Donnerblitz wielded his with his usual savageness and
activity. It whirled round his adversary's head with frightful
rapidity. Now it carried away a feather of his plume ; now it
shore off a leaf of his coronet. The flail of the tliresher does not
fall more swiftly upon tlie coi-n. For many minutes it was the
Unknown's only task to defend liimself from tlie tremendous activity
of the enemy.
But even the Rowski's strengtli would slacken after exertion.
The blows b?gan to fall less thick anon, and the point of the
unknown knight began to make dreadful i)lay. It found and ])ene-
trateil every joint of the Dt)nnerblitz armour. Now it nicked him
in the shoulder, wliere the vambrace was buckled to the corselet ;
now it bored a slirewd hole under the light brassart, and blood
followed ; now, with fatal dexterity, it darted through the visor,
and came back to the recover deeply tinged with blood. A scream
of rage followed the last thrust ; and no wonder :— it had penetrated
the Rowski's left eye.
His blood was trickling through a dozen orifices ; lie was almost
choking in his helmet with loss of breath, and loss of blood, and
rage. Gasping witli fury, he drew back his horse, flung his great
sword at his opponent's head, and once more plunged at him, wielding
his ciu'tal-axe.
Then you should have seen the unknown knight employing the
same dreadful weapon ! Hitherto he had been on his defence : now
he began the attack ; and the gleaming axe Avliirred in his hand like
a reed, but descended like a thunderbolt ! " Yield ! yield ! Sir
Rowski," shouted he in a calm clear voice.
A blow dealt madly at Ins head was the reply. 'Twas the last
THE CHAMPION 487
blow that the Count of Eulenschreckenstein ever struck in battle !
The curse ^yas on his hps as the crushing steel descended into his
brain, and split it in two. He rolled like a log from his horse : his
enemy's knee was in a moment on liis chest, and the dagger of
mercy at his throat, as the knight once more called upon him to
yield.
But there was no answer from within the helmet. When it
was withdrawn, the teeth were crunched together ; the mouth that
should have spoken, grinned a ghastly silence : one eye still glared
with liate and fury, Ijut it was glazed with the film of death !
The red orb of tlie sun was just then dipping into the Rhine.
The unknown knight, vaulting once more into his saddle, made a
graceful obeisance to the Prince of Cleves and his daughter, without
a Avord, and galloped back ijito the forest, whence he had issued an
hour before sunset.
CHAPTER XIII
THE MARRIAGE
THE consternation which ensued on the death of the Rowski
speedily sent all his camp-followers, army, &c., to the right-
about. They struck their tents at the first news of his dis-
comfiture ; and each man laying hold of what he could, the whole
of the gallant force which had marched under his banner in the
morning had disappeared ere the sun rose.
On that night, as it may be imagined, the gates of the Castle of
Cleves were not shut. Everybody was free to come in. Wine-butts
were broached in all the courts : the pickled meat prepared in such
lots for the siege was distributed among the people, who crowded to
congratulate their beloved sovereign on his victory ; and the Prince,
as was customary with that good man, who never lost an oppor-
tunity of giving a dinner-party, had a splendid entertainment made
ready for the upper classes, the whole concluding with a tasteful dis-
play of fireworks.
In the midst of these entertainments, our old friend the Count
of Hombourg arrived at the castle. The stalwart old warrior
swore by Saint Bugo that he was grieved the killing of the Rowski
had been taken out of his liand. The laughing Cleves vowed by
Saint Bendigo, Hombourg coulil never have finished off his enemy
so satisfactorily as the unknown knight had just done.
But who was he? was the question which now agitated the
bosom of these two old nobles. How to find him — how to reward
the champion and restorer of the honour and happiness of Cleves 1
They agreed over sujiper that he should be sought for everywhere.
Beadles were sent round the principal cities within fifty miles, and
the description of the knight advertised in the Journal de Franc-
fort and the AlUiemeine Zeitung. The hand of the Princess Helen
was solemnly offered to him in these advertisements, with the re-
version of the Prince of Cleves's splendid though somewhat dila^ii-
dated property.
" But we don't know him, my dear papa," faintly ejaculated
that young lady. " Some impostor may come in a suit of plain
armour; and pretend that he was the champion who overcame the
THE MARRIAGE 489
Rowski (a prince wlio had his faults certainly, hut whose attacli-
nient for luc I can never forget) ; and how are you to say whether
he is the real knight or not ? 'J'herc are so many deceivers in this
world," adiled llio Princess, in tears, " that one can't be too
cautious now."' The fact is, that she was thinking of the desertion
of Otto in the morning ; by which instance of faithlessness her
heart was well-nigh broken.
As for that youth and his comrade Wolfgang, to the astonish-
ment of everybody at their impudence, they came to tlie archers'
mess that night, as if nothing had happened ; got their supper,
partaking botli of meat and drink most ijlentifully ; fell asleejt when
their conu-ades began to describe the events of the day, and the
admirable achievements of the unknown warrior ; and, turning into
their hammocks, did not appear on parade in the morning until
twenty minutes after the names were called.
When the Prince of Clevcs heard of the return of these deserters,
he was in a towering passion. " Where were you, fellows," shouted
he, " diu-ing the time my castle was at its utmost need 1 "
Otto replied, " We were out on particular business."
" Does a soldier leave his post on the day of battle, sir ? "
exclaimed the Prince. " You know the reward of such — Death !
and death you merit. But you are a soldier only of yesterday, and
yesterday's victory has made me merciful. Hanged you shall not
be, as you merit — only flogged, both of you. Parade the men,
Colonel Tickelstern, after breakfast, and give these scouuilrels five
hundred apiece."
You should have seen how young Otto bounded, when this
information was thus abruptly conveyed to him. " Flog 7)ie ! "
cried he. " Flog Otto of "
"Not so, my father," said the Princess Helen, who had been
standing by during the conversation, and wlio had looked at Otto
all the while with the most ineftable scorn. " Not so : altiiougli
these perso7is have forgotten their duty " (she laid a particularly
sarcastic emphasis on the word persons), " we have had no need of
their services, and have luckily found others more foithful. You
promised your daughter a boon, papa : it is the pardon of tliose two
persons. Let them go, and quit a service they have disgraced :
a mistress — that is, a master — they have deceived."
" Drum 'em out of the castle, Tickelstern ; strip their uniforms
from their backs, and never let me hear of the scoundrels again."
So saying, the old Prince angrily turned on his heel to breakfast,
leaving the two young men to the fun and derision of their sur-
rounding comrades.
The noble Count of Hombourg, who was taking his usual airing
490 A LEGEND OF THE RHIXE
on the ramparts before breakfast, came up at tliis juncture, and
asked what was the row? Otto bkished when he saw ]iim, and
turned away rapidly ; but the Count, too, catching a glimpse of him,
with a hundred exclamations of joyfid surprise seized upon the lad,
hugged him to his manly breast, kissed him most affectionately, and
almost biu-st into tears as he embraced him. For, in sooth, the
good Count had thought his godson long ere this at the bottom
of tlie silver Rhine.
The Prince of Cleves, who liad come to the breakfast-parlour
■window (to invite his guest to enter, as the tea was made), beheld
this strange scene from the window, as did the lovelv tea-maker
likewise, with breathless and beautiful agitation. The old Count
and the archer strolled up and down the battlements in deep con-
versation. By the gestures of surprise and delight exhibited by the
former, 'twas easy to see the young archer was conveying some very
strange and pleasing news to him ; though the nature of the con-
versation was not allowed to transjiire.
" A godson of mine," said the noble Count, when interrogated
over his .muffins. " I know his family ; worthy people ; sad scape-
grace ; ran away ; parents longing for him ; glad you did not flog
him ; devil to pay," and so forth. The Count was a man of few
words, and told his tale in this l^rief artless manner. But why, at
its conclusion, did the gentle Helen leave the room, her eyes filled
with tears ? She left the room once more to kiss a certain lock of
yellow hair she had pilfered. A dazzling delicious thought, a strange
wild hope, arose in her soul I
When she appeared again, she made some side-handed inquiries
regarding Otto (witli that gentle artifice oft employed by women) ;
but he was gone. He and his companion were gone. The Coimt
of Hombourg had likewise taken his departure, under pretext of
particular business. How lonely the vast castle seemed to Helen,
now that he was no longer there. The transactions of the last few
days ; the beautiful archer-boy ; the offer from the Rowski (always
an event in a yoimg lady's life) ; the siege of the castle ; the death
of her truculent admirer : all seemed like a fevered dream to her :
all was passed away, and had left no trace behind. No trace ? —
yes ! one : a little insignificant lock of golden hair, over which the
young creature wept so much that she put it out of curl ; passing
hours and hours in the summer-house Avhere the operation had been
performed.
On the second day (it is my belief she woidd have gone into a
consumption and died of languor, if the event had been delayed a
day longer) a messenger, with a trumpet, brought a letter in haste
to the Prince of Cleves, who was, as usual, taking refreshment.
THE MARRIAGE 491
"To the High and Mighty Prince," &c., the letter ran. "The
Champion who had the honour of engaging on Wednesday last Avith
his late Excellency the Rowski of Donnerhlitz, presents his compli-
ments to H.S.H. the Prince of Cleves. Through the medium of the
public prints the C has been made acquainted with the flattering
proijosal of His Serene Highness relative to a union between himself
(the Champion) and Her Serene Highness the Princess Helen of
Cleves. The Champion accepts with pleasure that polite invitation,
and will have the honour of waiting upon the Prince and Princess of
Cleves about half-an-hour after the receipt of this letter."
" Tol lol de rol, girl," shouted the Prince with heartfelt joy.
(Have you not remarked, dear friend, how often in novel-books, and
on the stage, joy is announced by the aliove burst of insensate
monosyllables ?) " Tol lol de rol. ' Don thy best kirtle, child ; thy
husband will be here anon." And Helen retired to arrange her
toilet for this awful event in the life of a young woman. When she
returned, attired to welcome her defender, her young check was as
pale as the white satin slip and orange sprigs she wore. ,
She was scarce seated on the dais by her father's side, when a
huge flourish of trumpets from without proclaimed the arrival of the
Champion. Helen felt quite sick : a draught of ether was necessary
to restore her tranquillity.
The gi-eat door was flung open. He entered, — the same tall
warrior, slim and beautiful, blazing in shining steel. He a])iiroached
the Prince's throne, supported on each side 1iy a friend likewise in
armour. He knelt gracefully on one knee.
" I come," said he, in a voice trembling with emotion, " to claim,
as per advertisement, the hand of the lovely Lady Helen." And he
held out a copy of the Alhjemeine Zeitung as he spoke.
" Art thou noble, Sir Knight ? " asked the Prince of Cleves.
" As noble as yourself," answered the kneeling steel.
" Who answers for thee 1 "
" I, Karl, Margrave of Godesberg, his father ! " said the knight
on the right hand, lifting up his visor.
" And I — Ludwig, Count of Hombourg, his godfather ! " said
the knight on the left, doing likewise.
The kneeling knigiit lifted up his visor now, and looked on
Helen.
"/ Imejv it was" said she, and fainted as she saw Otto the
Archer.
But she was soon brought to, gentles, as I have small need to
tell ye. In a very few days after, a great marri;ige took place at
Cleves, under the patronage of Saint Bugo, Saint Buftb, and Saint
Bendigo. After the marriage ceremony, the happiest and hand-
492 A LEGEND OF THE RHINE
somest pair in tlie world drove off in a chaise-and-four, to pass the
honeymoon at Kissingen. The Lady Theodora, whom we left
locked up in her convent a long while since, was prevailed upon to
come back to Godesberg, where she was reconciled to her husband.
Jealous of her daughter-in-law, she idolised her son, and spoiled all
her little grandchildren. And so all are happy, and my simple
tale is done.
I read it in an old old book, in a mouldy old circulating library.
'Twas written in the French tongue, by the noble Alexandre
Dumas ; but 'tis probable that he stole it from some other, and
that the other had filched it from a former tale-teller. For nothing
is new under the sun. Things die and are reproduced only. And
so it is that the forgotten tale of the great Dumas reappears under
the signature of Theresa MacWhirter.
Whistlebinkie, N.B. : December 1.
CHARACTER SKETCHES
CHARACTER SKETCHES
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON
THE statistic-mongers and dealers in geography have calculated
to a nicety how many quartern loaves, bars of iron, pigs of
lead, sacks of wool, Turks, Quakers, Methodists, Jews,
Catholics, and Church-of-England men are consumed or ijroduced
in the different countries of this wicked world : I should like to see
an accurate table showing the rogues and dui)es of each nation ; the
calculation would form a pretty matter fir a philosopher to speculate
upon. The mind loves to repose and broo<ls benevolently over this
expanded theme. What thieves are there in Paris, heavens ! and
what a power of rogues witli pigtails and mandarin buttons at
Pekin ! What crowds of swindlers are there at this very moment
pursuing their trade at St. Petersburg ! how many scoundrels are
saying their jirayers alongside of Don Carlos I how many scores are
jobbing under the jiretty nose of Queen Christina ! what an in-
ordinate number of rascals is there, to be sure, i)uffing tobacco and
drinking flat small-beer in all the capitals of Germany ; or else,
without a rag to their ebony backs, swigging quass out of cala-
bashes, and smeared over with palm-oil, lolling at tlie doors of clay
huts in the sunny city of Timbuetoo ! It is not necessary to make
any more topographical allusions, or, for illustrating the above
position, to go through the whole Gazetteer ; but he is a bad philo
sopher who has not all these things in mind, and does not in liis
speculations or his estimate of mankind duly consider and weigh
them. And it is fine and consolatory to think that thoughtful Nature,
which has provided sweet flowers for the humming bee; fair running
streams for glittering fish ; store of kids, deer, goats, and otiier fresh
meat for roaring lions ; for active cats, mice ; for mice, cheese, and
so on ; establisliing throughout the whole of her realm the great
doctrine that where a demand is, tliere will be a supply (see the
romances of Adam Smith, Malthus, and Piicardo, ancl the philoso-
13
496 CHARACTER SKETCHES
phical works of Miss Martineaii) : I saj' it is consolatorj- to think
that, as Nature lias provided flies for the food of fishes, and flowers
for bees, so she has created fools for rogues ; and thus the scheme is
consistent throughout. Yes, observation, with extensive view, will
discover Captain' Rooks all over the world, and ]\Ir. Pigeons made
for their benefit. Wherever shines the sun, you are sure to find
Folly basking in it ; and knavery is the shadow at Folly's heels.
It is not^ however, necessary to go to St. Petersburg or Peldn
for rogues (and in truth I don't know whether the Timbuctoo
Captain Rooks prefer cribbage or billiards). " We are not birds,"
as the Irishman says, " to be in half-a-dozen places at once ; " so let
us pretermit all considerations of rogues in other countries, examin-
ing only those who flourish under our very noses. I have travelled
much, and seen many men and cities : and, in truth, I think that our
country of England produces the best soldiers, sailors, razors, tailors,
brewers, hatters, and rogues of all. Especially there is no cheat like
an English cheat. Our society produces them in the greatest numl^ers
as well as of the greatest excellence. We supply all Eurojic with
them. I defy you to point out a great city of the Continent where
half-a-dozen of them are not to be found : proofs of our enterprise
and samples of our home manufacture. Try Rome, Cheltenham,
Baden, Toeplitz, Madrid, or Tzarskoselo : I have been in every one
of them, and give you my honour that the Englishman is the best
rascal to be found in all : better than your eager Frenchman ; your
swaggering Irishman, with a rod velvet waistcoat and red whiskers ;
your grave Spaniard, with horrid goggle eyes and ])nifuse diamond
shirt-pins ; your tallow-faced German baron, with white moustache
and double chin, fat, pudgy, dirty fingers, and gi-eat gold thumb-
ring ; better even than your nondescript Russian — swindler and spy
as he is by loyalty and education— the most dangerous antagonist
we have. AVho has the best coat even at Vienna? who has the
neatest britzska at Baden 1 who drinks the best champagne at Paris?
Captain Rook, to be sure, of Her Britannic Majesty's service : — he
has been of the service, that is to say, but often finds it convenient
to sell out.
The life of a blackleg, which is the name contemptuously apjilied
to Captain Rook in his own coiuitry, is such an easy, comfortable,
careless, merry one, that I can't conceive why all the world do not
turn Captain Rooks ; unless, maybe, there arc some mysteries and
difficulties in it which the vulgar know nothing of, and which only
men of real genius can overcome. Call on Captain Rook in the
day (in London, he lives about St. James's ; abroad, he has the
very best rooms in the very best hotels), and you will find him
at one o'clock dressed in the very finest rohe-de-chmnhrc, before a
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 497
breakfast-table covered with the prettiest patties and delicacies
possible ; smoking, perhaps, one of the biggest meerschaum pipes
you ever saw ; reading, possibly, the Mornrnrj Post, or a novel (lie
has only one volume in his whole room, and that from a circulating
library) ; or having his hair dressed ; or talking to a tailor about
waistcoat patterns ; or driidcing soda-water with a glass of sherry ;
all this he does every morning, and it does not seem very difficult,
and lasts until three. At three, he goes to a horse-dealer's, and
lounges there for half-an-hour ; at four he is to be seen at the
window of his Club ; at five, he is cantering and curvetting in
Hyde Park with one or two more (he does not know any ladies,
but has many male acquaintances : some, stout old gentlemen riding
cobs, who knew his family, and give him a surly grunt of recogni-
tion ; some, very young lads with pale dissolute faces, little mous-
taches perhaps, or at least little tufts on their chin, who hail him
eagerly as a man of fashion) : at seven, he has a dinner at " Long's "
or at the "Clarendon"; and so to bed very likely at five in the
morning, after a quiet game of wliist, broiled bones, and punch.
Perhaps he dines early at a tavern in Covent Garden ; after
which, you will see him at the theatre in a private box (Captain
Rook affects the 01ym];)ic a good deal). In the box, besides him-
self, you will remark a young man — very young — one of the lads
who spoke to him in the Park this morning, and a couple of lailies :
one shabby, melancholy, raw-boned, with muulierless small white
ringlets, large hands and feet, and a faded light-blue silk gown ;
she has a large cap, trimmed Avith yellow, and all S(_irts of crumpled
flowers and greasy blonde lace ; she wears large gilt earrings, and
sits back, and nobody speaks to her, and she to nobody, except to
say, "Law, Maria, liow M'ell you do look to-night; there's a man
opposite has been staring at you this three hours ; I'm blest if it
isn't him as we saw in the Park, dear ! "
" I wish, Hanna, you'd 'old your tongue, and not bother me about
the men. You don't believe Miss 'Ickman, Freddy, do you 1 " says
Maria, smiling fondly on Freddy. Maria is sitting in front : she
says she is twenty-three, though Miss Hickman knows very well she
is thirty-one (Freddy is just of age). She wears a ])urple velvet
gown, three different gold l)racelets on each arm, as many rings on
each finger of each hand ; to one is hooked a gold smelling-bottle :
she has an enormous fan, a laced pocket-handkerchief, a Cashmere
shawl, which is continually falling off, and exposing, very unneces-
sarily, a pair of very white shoulders : she talks loud, always lets
her playbill drop into the pit, and smells most pungently of Mr.
Delcroix's shop. After this description it is not at all necessary to
say who Maria is : Miss Hickman is her companion, and they live
498 CHARACTER SKETCHES
together in a very snug little house in Mayfair, wliich has just been
new-furnished a la Louis Quatorze by Freddy, as we are positively
informed. It is even said that the little carriage, with two little
white ponies, which Maria drives herself in such a fascinating way
through the Park, was purchased for her by Freddy too ; ay, and
that Captain Rook got it for him— a great bargain, of course.
Such is Captain Rook's lifc. Can anything be more easy?
Suppose Maria says, " Come home. Rook, and heat a cold chicken
with us, and a glass of hiced champagne ; " and suppose he goes,
and after chicken — ^just for fun — Maria proposes a little chicken-
hazai-d ; — she only plays for shillings, while Freddy, a little bolder,
won't mind half-pound stakes himself. Is there any great harm in
all this? Well, after half-an-hour Maria gi-ows tired, and Miss
Hickman has been nodding asleep in tlie corner long ago ; so off the
two ladies set, candle in lian<l.
" D — n it, Fred," says Captain Rook, pouring out for that young
gentleman his fifteenth glass of champagne, "what luck you are in,
if you did but know how to back it ! "
What more natural, and even kind, of Rook than to say this ?
Fred is evidently an inexperienced player; and every experienced
player knows that there is nothing like backing your luck. Freddy
does. Well, fortune is proverbially variable ; and it is not at all
surprising that Freddy, after having had so much luck at the com-
mencement of the evening, should have the tables turned on him at
some time or other. — Freddy loses.
It is deuced unlucky, to be sure, that he should have won all
the little coups and lost all the great ones ; but there is a plan which
the commonest play-man knows, an infallible means of retrieving
yourself at play : it is sim|)ly doubling your stake. Say, you lose
a guinea : you bet two guineas, which, if you win, you win a guinea
and your original stake : if you lose, you have but to bet four guineas
on the tliird stake, eight on the fourth, sixteen on the fifth, thirty-
two on the sixth, and so on. It stands to reason that you cannot
lose alivays ; and the very first time you win, all your losings are
made up to you. There is but one drawback to this infallible process :
if you begin at a guinea, double every time you lose, and lose fifteen
times, you will have lost exactly sixteen thousand three hundred
and eighty-four guineas ; a sum which i)robably exceeds the amount
of your yearly income : — mine is considerably under that figure.
Freddy does not play this game then, yet ; but lieing a poor-
spirited creature, as we have seen he nmst be by being afraid to win,
he is equally jjoor-spirited when he begins to lose : he is frightened ;
that is, increases his stakes, and backs his ill-luck : when a man does
this, it is all over with him.
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 499
AVheii Captain Rook goes home (the sun is peering through the
shutters of the httle drawing-room in Curzon Street, and the ghastly
footboy — oh, how bleared his eyes look as he opens the door !) — •
when Captain Rook goes home, he has Freddy's I.O.U.'s in liis pocket
to the amount, say, of three hundred pounds. Some people say that
Maria has half of the money when it is paid ; but this I don't believe :
is Captain Rook the kind of fellow to give up a purse when his hand
has once clawed liold of it 1
Be this, however, true or not, it concerns us very little. The
Captain goes home to King StreeP, plunges into bed niuch too tired
to say his prayers, and wakes the next morning at twelve to go
over such another day as we have just chalked out for him. As
for Freddy, not pojipy, nor mandragora, nor all the soda-water at
the chemist's can ever medicine him to that sweet sleep which he
might have had but for his loss. " //" I had but played my king of
hearts," sighed Fred, " and kept back iny trump ; but there's no
standing against a fellow who turns up a king seven times running :
if I had even but pulled up when Thomas (curse him !) brought up
that infernal Curac^oa punch, I should have saved a couple of hundred,"
and so on go Freddy's lamentations. luckless Freddy ! dismal
Freddy ! silly gaby of a Freddy ! you are hit now, and there is no
cure for you but bleeding you almost to death's door. The homoeo-
pathic maxim of similia similiJjns — which means, I believe, that you
are to be cured " by a hair of the dog that bit you " — must be put
in practice with regard to Freddy — only not in homoeopathic infini-
tesimal doses : no hair of the dog that bit him : but vice versa, the
dog of the hair that tickled him. Freddy has liegun to play — a
mere trifie at first, but he must play it out ; he must go the whole
dog now, or there is no chance for him. He must play until he can
play no more ; he u'iil play until he has not a shilhng left to play
with, when, perhaps, he may turn out an honest man, though the
odds are against him : the betting is in favour of his being a swindler
always ; a rich or a poor one, as the case may be. I need not tell
Freddy's name, I think, now ; it stands on his card : — •
Mr. FREDERICK PIGEON,
LONG S HOTEL.
I have said the chances are that Frederick Pigeon, Esquire, will
become a ricli or a poor swindler, though the first chance, it must
500 CHARACTER SKETCHES
be confessed, is very remote. I once heard an actor, who could not
write, speak, or even read Enghsh ; who was not fit for any trade in
the world, and had not the "^ nous " to keep an apple-stall, and
scarcely even enough sense to make a Member of Parliament ; I
once, I say, heard an actor, — whose only qualifications were a large
pair of legs, a large voice, and a very large neck,^ curse his fate and
his profession, by which, do what he would, he could only make
eight guineas a week. " No men," said he, with a great deal of
justice, " Avere so ill paid as ' dramatic artists ' ; they laboured for
nothing all their youth, and had 'no provision for old age." With
this, he sighed, and called for (it was on a Saturday night, the forty-
ninth glass of brandy-and-water which he had drunk in the course
of the week.
The excitement of his profession, I make no doubt, caused my
friend Claptrap to consume this quantity of spirit-and-water, besides
beer in the morning, after rehearsal ; and I could not help musing
over his fate. It is a hard one. To eat, drink, wdrk a little, and
be jolly ; to be paid twice as much as you are worth, and then to
go to ruin ; to drop off the tree wlien you are swelled out, seedy,
and over-ripe ; and to lie rutting in the nuid underneath, until at
last you mingle with it.
Now, badly as the actor is paid (and the reader will the more
readily i)ardon the above episode, because, in reality, it has nothing
to do with the subject in hand), and luckless as his fate is, the lot
of the poor blackleg is cast lower still. You never hear of a rich
gambler ; or of one wlio wins in the end. Where does all the
money go to Avhicli is lost among them ? Did you ever play a game
at loo for sixpences ? At the end of the night a great many of those
small coins have been lost, and in consequence, won. But ask the
table all round : one man has won tlirec shillings ; two have neither
lost nor won ; one rather tliinks he has lost ; and the three others
have lost two pounds each. Is not this the fact, known to everj'-
body who indulges in round games, and especially the noble game
of loo 1 I often think that the devil's books, as cards are called,
are let out to us from Old Nick's circulating library, and that he
lays his paw upon a certain part of tlie winnings, and carries it off
privily : else, what becomes of all the money ?
For instance, there is the gentleman whom the newspapers call
" a noble earl of sporting celebrity " ; — if he has lost a shilling,
according to the newspaper accounts, he has lost fifty millions : he
drops fifty thousand pounds at the Derby, just as you and I would
lay down twopence-halfpenny for half an ounce of Macabaw. Who
has won these millions ? Is It Mr. Crockford, or Mr. Bond, or Mr.
Salon-des-Etrangers ? (I do not call these latter gentlemen gamblei-s,
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 501
for their speculation is a certainty) ; but who wins his money, and
everybody else's money who plays and loses 1 Much money is
staked in the absence of Mr. * Crockford ; many notes are given
without the interference of tlie Bonds; there are hundreds of
thousands of gamblers who are e'trangers even to the Salon-des-
Etrangers.
No, my dear sir, it is not in tlic public gambling-houses that the
money is lost ; it is not in them that your virtue is chiefly in
danger. Better by half lose your income, your fortune, or your
master's money, in a decent public hell, than in tlie private society
of sucli men as my friend Cajitain Rouk. But we are again and
again digressing : the point is, is the Captain's trade a good one,
and does it yield tolerably good interest for outlay and ca{)ital 1
To the latter question first : — at this very season of May, when
the Rooks are very young, have you not, my dear friend, often
tasted them in jucs ? — they are then so tender that you cannot tell
the difierence between theni and pigeons. So, in like manner, our
Rook has been in his youth undistinguishaljle from a pigeon. He
does as he has been done by : yea, he has been plucked as even now
he plucks his friend Mr. Frederick Pigeon. Say that he began the
world with ten thousand pounds : every maravedi of this is gone ;
and may be considered as the capital, which he has sacrificed to
learn his trade. Having spent £10,000, then, on an annuity o
£G50, he must Liok to a larger interest for his money — say fifteen
hundred, two thousand, or three thousand pounds, tleeently to rei)ay
his risk and labour. Besides the money sunk in the first place,
his profession requires continual annual outlays, as thus —
Horses, carriages (including Epsom, Goodwood,
Ascot, &c.) ......
Lodgings, servants, and board ....
Watering-places, and touring ....
Dinners to give ......
Pocket-money .......
Gloves, handkerchiefs, perfumery, and tobacco
(very moderate) ......
Tailor's bills (£100 say, never paid)
Total
I defy any man to carry on the profession in a decent way under
the above sum : ten thousand sunk, and sixteen hundred amiual
expenses ; no, it is 7iot a good profession : it is not good interest for
one's money ; it is not a fair remuneration for a gentleman of birth,
£500
350
300
150
150
150
£1,600
502 CHARACTER SKETCHES
industry, and genius ; and my friend Claptrap, who growls about
his pay, may bless his eyes that he was not bom a gentleman and
bred up to\such an unprofitable calling as this. Considering his
trouble, his outlay, his birth, and breeding, the Captain is most
wickedly and basely rewarded. And wlien he is obliged to retreat,
when his hand trembles, his credit is fallen, his bills laughed at by
every money-lender in Europe, his tailors rampant and inexorable
—in fact, when the coiqye of life will sauter for him no more—
who will help the play-worn veteran? As Mitchel sings after
Aristophanes —
" In glory he was seen, when his years as yet were green;
But now when his dotage is on him,
God help him ;— for no eye of those who pass him by
Throws a look of compassion upon him."
Who indeed will help him?— not his family, for he has bled his
father, his imcle, his old grandmother ; he has had slices out of his
sisters' portions, and quarrelled -n-ith his brothers-in-law; the old
people are dead; the young ones hate him, and will give him
nothing. Who will help him 1 — not his friends : in the first place,
my dear sir, a man's friends very seldom do : in the second place, it
is Captain Rook's business not to keep, but to give up his friends.
His acquaintances do not last more than a year : the time, namely,
during which he is employed in plucking them ; then they part.
Pigeon has not a single feather left to his tail, and how sliould he
help Rook, whom, au reste, he has learned to detest most cordially,
and has found out to be a rascal 1 When Rook's ill day comes, it is
simply because he has no more friends : he has exhausted them all,
plucked every one as clean as the palm of your hand. An<l to
arrive at this conclusion, Rook has been spending sixteen hundred a
year, and the prime of his life, and has moreover sunk ten thousand
pounds ! Is this a proper reward for a gentleman ? I say it is a
sin and a shame that an Enghsh gentleman should be allowed thus
to drop down the stream Avithout a single hand to help him.
The moral of the above remarks I take to be this : that black-
legging is as bad a trade as can be ; and so let parents and guardians
look to it, and not apprentice their children to such a villainous
scurvy way of living.
It must be confessed, however, that there are some individuals
who have for the profession such a natural genius, that no entreaties
or example of parents Avill keep them from it, and no restraint or
occupation occasioned by another calling. They do what Christians
do not do : they leave all to follow their master the Devil ; they
cut friends, families, and good, thriving, i)rofitable trades, to put
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 503
up with this one, that is both unthrifty and un])rofitable. They
are in regiments : ugly whispers about certain ini(hiight games at
blind-hookey, and a few odd bargains in horseflesh, are ])orne
abroad, and Cornet Rook receives the gentlest hint in the world
that he had better sell out. They are in counting-houses with a
promise of partnership, for which papa is to lay down a handsome
premium ; but the firm of H()l)bs, Bobbs & Higgory can never
admit a youn^^ gentleman who is a notorious gambler, is much
oftener at the races than at his desk, and has bills daily falling
due at his private banker's. The father, that excellent old man,
Sam Rook, so well known on 'Change in the war-time, discovers,
at the end of five years, that his son has spent rather more
than the four thousand pounds intended for his partnership, and
cannot, in common justice to his other thirteen children, give him
a shilling more. A pretty pass for flash young Tom Rook, with
four horses in stable, a protemporaneous Mrs. Rook, very likely,
in an establishment near the Regent's Park, and a bill ibr three
hundred and seventy-five pounds coming due on the fifth of next
)nonth.
Sometimes young Rook is destined to the bar : and I am glad
to introduce one of these gentlemen and his history to the notice
of the reader. He was the son of an amiable gentleman, the
Reverend Athanasius Rook, who took high honours at Cambridge in
the year '1 : was a fellow of Trinity in the year '2 : and so con-
tinued a fellow and tutor of the College until a living fell vacant,
on which he seized. It was only two hundred and fifty pounds a
year; but the fact is, Athanasius was in love. Miss Gregory, a
pretty, denuire, simjilc governess at Miss Mickle's establishment for
young ladies iu Cambridge (where the reverend gentleman used often
of late to take his tea), had caught the eye of the honest College
tutor : and in Trinity walks, and up and down the Trumpingt(jn
Road, he walked with her (and another young lady, of course),
talked with her, and told his love.
Miss Gregory had not a rap, as might be imagined ; but she
loved Athanasius with her whole soul and strength, and was the
most orderly, cheerful, tender, smiling, bustling little wife that ever a
country jiarson was blest v^ithal. Athanasius took a couple of pupils
at a couple of hundred guineas each, and so made out a snug income ;
ay, and laid by for a rainy day — a, little portion for Harriet, when
she should grow up and marry, and a hel]) for Tom at college and
at the bar. For you must know there were two little Rooks now
growing in the rookery ; and very happy were father and mother
I can tell you, to put meat down their tender little throats. Oh,
if ever a man was good and happy, it was Athanasius ; if ever a
504 CHARACTER SKETCHES
woman was happy and good, it was his wife : not the wliole parish,
not the whole county, not the whole kingdom, could produce such
a snug rectory, or such a pleasant vu'nage.
Athanasius's fame as a scholar, too, was great; and as his
charges were very high, and as he received but two pupils, there
was, of course, much anxiety among wealthy parents to place their
children under his care. Future squires, bankers, yea, lords and
dukes, came to profit by his instructions, and werf led by him
gracefully over the "Asses' bridge" into the sublime regions of
matliematics, or through the syntax into the pleasant paths, of
classic lore.
In the midst of these comi)anions, Tom Rook grew up ; more
fondled and petted, of course, than they ; cleverer than they ; as
handsome, dashing, well instructed a lad for his years as ever went
to College to be a senior wrangler, and went down without any
such honour.
Fancy, then, our young gentleman installed at College, whither
his flither has taken him, and with fond veteran recollections has
surveyed hall and grass-plots, and the old porter, and the old
fountain, and tlie old rooms in which he used to live. Fancy tlie
sobs of good little Mrs. Rook, as she parted with her boy; and
the tears of sweet pale Harriet, as she clung round his neck, and
brought him (in a silver paper, slobbered with many tears) a
little crimson silk purse (witli two guineas of her own in it, poor
thing !). Fancy all this, and fiincy young Tom, sorry too, but yet
restless and glad, panting for tlie new life opening upon him ; the
freedom, the joy of the manly struggle for fame, wliich he vows
he will win. Tom Rook, in other words, is installed at Trinity
College, attends lectures, reads at home, goes to chapel, us^ wine-
parties moderately, and bids fair to be one of the tojtmost men of
his year.
Tom goes down for the Christmas vacation. (What a man he
is grown, and how his sister and mother quarrel which shall walk
with him down the village; and wliat stories the oM ireutleman
lugs out with his old port, and how he quotes ..Eschylus, to be
sure !) The pupils are away too, and the three have Tom in quiet.
Alas ! I fear the place has grown a little too quiet for Tom : how-
ever, he reads very stoutly of mornings ; and sister Harriet peeps
with a great deal of wonder into huge books of scribbliug-paper,
containing many strange diagrams, and complicated arningements
of x's and y's.
May comes, and the College examinations ; the delighted parent
receives at breakfast, on the lOtli of that mouth, two letters, as
follows : —
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 505
From the Rev. Solomon Snorter to the Rev. Athanashis Rook.
" Trinity, i)/a;/ 10.
"Deak Credo,* — I wish you joy. Your lad is the best man
of his year, and I hope in four more to see him at our table. In
classics he is, my dear friend, facile princej^s ; in matlieniatics he
was run hard {entre nous) by a lad of the name of Snick, a West-
moreland man and a sizer. We nuist keep u]) Thomas to his
mathematics, and I have no doubt we shall make a fellow and a
wrangler of him.
"I send you his college bill, £105, 10s. : rather heavy, but this
is the first term, and that you know is expensive : I shall be glad
to give you a receipt for it. By the way, the young man is rather
too fond of amusement, and lives with a very expensive set. Give
him a lecture on this score. — Yours, Sol. Snorter."
Next comes Mr. Tom Rook's own letter : it is long, modest ;
we only give the postscript : —
" P.S. — Dear Father, I forgot to say that, as I live in the very
best set in the University (Lord Bagwig, the Duke's eldest son you
know, vows he will give me a living), I have been led into one or
two expenses which will frighten you : I lost £30 to the Honourable
Mr. Deuceace (a son of Lord Cral)s) at Bagwig's, the other day, at
dinner ; and owe <£54 more for desserts and hiring horses, which I
can't send into Snorter's bill.f Hiring horses is so deuced expensive;
next term I must have a nag of my own, that's positive."
The Reverend Athaua.sius read the postscript witli much less
gusto than the letter : however, Tom has done his duty, and the
old gentleman won't balk his i)leasiire ; so he sends him £100,
with a " God bless you ! " and JManuna adds, in a postscrijtt, that
"he must always keej) well with his aristocratic friends, for he was
made only for the best society."
A year or two jxisses on : Tom comes home for the vacations ;
but Tom has sadly changed ; he has grown haggard and pale. At
the second year's examination (owing to an unlucky illness) Tom
was not classed at all ; and Snick, the Westmoreland man, lias
carried everything before him. Tom drinks more after dinner than
his father likes ; he is always riding about and dining in the
* This is most probably a joke on the Christian name of Mr. Rook.
t It is, or was, the custom for young gentlemen at Cambridge to have
unlimited credit with tradesmen, whom the College tutors paid, and then sent
the bills to the parents of the young men.
5o6 CHARACTER SKETCHES
neighbourhood, and coming home, quite odd, his mother says — ill-
humoured, unsteady on his feet, and husky in his talk. The
Reverend Athanasius begins to grow very very grave : they have
high words, even the father and son ; and oh ! how Harriet and
her mother tremble and listen at the study-door when these disputes
are going on !
The last term of Tom's undergraduateship arrives : he is in ill
liealtli, but he will make a mighty effort to retrieve himself for his
degree ; and early in the cold winter's morning. — late, late at night
— he toils over his books : and the end is that, a month before the
examination, Thomas Rook, Esqiiire, has a brain fever, and Mrs.
Rook, and Miss Rook, and the Reverend Atlianasius Rook, are all
lodging at the " Hoop," an inn in Cambridge town, and day and
niglit round the couch of poor Tom.
• •■••••
sin, woe, repentance ! touching reconciliation and burst of
tears on the jiart of son and father, when one morning at the par-
sonage, after Tom's recovery, the uld gentleman produces a bundle
of receipts, and says, with a broken voice, " There, boy, don't be
vexed about your debts. Boys will be boys, I know, and I have
paid all demands." Everybody cries in the house at this news ;
the mother and daughter most profusely, even Mrs, Stokes the old
housekeeper, who shakes master's hand, and actually kisses Mr. Tom.
Well, Tom begins to read a little for his fellowshiji, but in
vain ; he is beaten by Mr. Snick, the Westmoreland man. He
has no hopes of a living ; Lord Bagwig's promises were all moon-
shine. Tom must go to the bar ; and his father, who has long
left off taking pupils, must take them again, to support his son in
London.
Wliy tell you what happens when there? Tom lives at tlie
West End of the town, and never goes near the Temple ; Tom goes
to Ascot and Epsom along with his great friends ; Tom has a long
bill with Mr. Rymell, another long bill with Mr. Nugee ; he gets
into the hands of the Jews — and his father rushes up to London on
the outside of the coach to find Tom in a s])unging-house in Cursitor
Street — the nearest approach he has made to the Temple tluriug his
three years' residence in London.
1 don't like to tell you the rest of tlie history. The Reverend
Atlianasius was not immortal, and he died a year after his visit to
the spunging-house, leaving his son exactly one farthing, and his wife
one hundred pounds a year, with remainder to his daughter. But,
Heaven bless you ! the poor things would never allow Tom to want
while they had plenty, and they sold out and sold out the three thou-
sand pounds, until, at tlie end of three years, there did not remain
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 507
one single stiver of them ; and now Miss Harriet is a governess, with
sixty pounds a year, supporting her mother, who lives uj^on fifty.
As for Tom, he is a regular leg now — leading the life already
described. When I met him last it was at Baden, Avhere he was
on a professional tour, with a carriage, a courier, a valet, a con-
federate, and a case of pistols. He has been in five duels, he has
killed a man who spoke lightly about his honour ; and at French or
Englisli hazard, at billiards, at whist, at loo, dearth, blind hookey,
drawing straws, or beggar-niy-neighbonr, he will cheat you — cheat
you for a hundred pounds or for a guinea, and murder you afterwards
if you like.
Abroad, our friend takes military rank, and calls himself Captain
Rook ; when asked of wliat service, he says he was with Don Carlos
or Queen Christina ; and certain it is that he was absent for a
couple of years nobody knows Avhere : he may have been Avith General
Evans, or he may have been at the Sainte-P^lagic in Paris, as some
people vow he was.
We must wind up this paper with some remarks concerning
poor little Pigeon. Vanity has been little Pigeon's failing through
life. He is a lincndraper's son, and has been left with money : and
the silly fasliional)le works that he has read, and the silly female
relatives that he has — (N.B. All young men Avith money have silly
flattering she-relatives) — and the silly trips that he has made to
watering-places, Avhere he has scraped acquaintance Avith the Honour-
able Tom Mountcoffee-house, Lord Ballyhoo] y, the celebrated German
Prince, Sweller Mobskau, and their like (all Captain Rooks in their
way), liave been the ruin of him.
I have not the sliglitest pity in the world for little Pigeon.
Look at him ! See in Avhat absurd finery the little prig is dressed.
Wine makes his poor little head ache, but he Avill drink because it
is manly. In mortal fear he puts himself behind a curvetting
camelopard of a cab-horse ; or perched on the top of a prancing
dromedary, is borne through Rotten Row, when he would give the
world to be on his oAvn sofo, or with his own mamma and sisters,
over a quiet pool of commerce and a cup of tea. ' Hoav riding
does scarify his poor little legs, and shake his poor little sides !
Smoking, how it does turn his little stomach inside out ; and yet
' smoke he Avill : Sweller Mobskau smokes ; Mountcoftee-house don't
mind a cigar ; and as for Ballyhooly, he will puff" you a dozen
in a day, and says very truly that Pontet Avon't sujjply him
with near sucli good ones as he sells Pigeon. The fact is, that
Pontet voAved seven years ago not to giA^e his Lordship a sixpence
more credit ; and so the good-natured nobleman always helps himself
out of Pigeon's box.
5o8 CHARACTER SKETCHES
On the shoulders of these aristocratic individuals, Mr. Pigeon
is carried into certain clubs, or perhaps -^'e should say he walks into
them by the aid of these "legs." But they keep liim always to
themselves. Captain Rooks must rob in companies ; but of course,
the greater the profits, the fewer the partners must be. Three are
positively reciuisite, however, as every reader must know who has
played a game at whist : Numlier One to be Pigeon's partner, and
curse his stars at losing, and propose higher play, and " settle " with
Number Two ; Number Three to transact business with Pigeon, and
drive him down to the City to sell out. We have known an instance
where, after a very good night's work. Number Three has bolted
with the winnings altogether, but the practice is dangerous ; not
only disgraceful to the profession, but it cuts i>p your own chance
afterwards, as no one will act with you. There is only -one occa-
sion on which such a manoguvi'e is allowable. Many are sick
of tlie profession, and desirous to turn honest men : in this case,
when you can get a good coiq->, five thousand say, bolt without
scruple. One thing is clear, the other men must be mum, and
you can live at Vienna comfortably on the interest of five thousand
pounds.
Well, then, in the society of these amiable confederates little
Pigeon goes tlirough that period of time which is necessary for
the purpose of plucking liim. To do this you must not, in most
cases, tug at the feathers so as to hurt him, else he may be
frightened, and hop away to somebody else : nor, generally speak-
ing, will the feathers come out so easily at first as they will when
he is used to it, and then they drop in handfuls. Nor need you
have the least scruple in so causing the little creature to moult
artificially : if you don't, somebody else will : a Pigeon goes into
tlie world fated, as Chateaubriand says —
"Pigeon, il va subir lo sort do tout pigeon."
He must be plucked, it is the purpose for wliich nature has formed
him : if you. Captain Rook, do not perform the operation on a green
table lighted by two wax-candles, and with two jjacks of cards to
operate with, some other Rook will : are there not railroads, and
Spanisli bonds, and bituminous companies, and Cornisli tin mines,
and old dowagers with daughters to marry ? If you leave him. Rook
of Birchin Lane will have him as sure as fate : if Rook of Birchin
Lane don't hit him. Rook of the Stock Exchange will blaze away
both barrels at him, which, if the poor trembling flutterer escape,
he will fly over and drop into the rookery, where dear old swindling
Lady Rook and her daughters will find him and nestle him in their
CAPTAIN ROOK AND MR. PIGEON 509
bosoms, and in that soft i)laeu plufk liiui uutil lie turu.s out lus naked
as a caunoii-ball. ,
Be not tliou scrupulous, Captain ! Seize on Pigeon ; ])luck
him gently but l^oldly ; but, above all, never let him go. If he is a
stout cautious bird, of course you must be more cautious ; if he is
excessively silly and scared, perhaps the best way is just to take
him round the neck at once, and strip the -wjiolc stock of i)lumage
from his back.
The feathers of the human pigeon being thus violently abstracted
from him, no others sujiply their place : and yet I do not pity him.
He is now only undergoing the destiny of j)igeons, and is, I do
believe, as happy in his plucked as in his feathered state. He
cannot purse out his breast, and bury his head, and fan his tail, and
strut in the sun as if he were a turkcy-c;ock. Under all those fine
airs and feathers, he was but what he is now, a poor little meek,
silly, cowardly bird, and his state of pride is not a whit more
natural to him than his fallen condition. He soon grows used to
it. He is too great a coward to despair ; much too mean to be
frightened because he must live by doing meanness. He is sure, if
he cannot fly, to fall somehow or other on his little miserable legs :
on these he hops about, and manages to live somewhere in Ids own
mean way. He has but a small stomach, and doesn't mind what
food he i)uts into it. He spunges on his relatives; or else just
before his utter ruin he marries and has nine children (and such a
family always lives) ; he turns bully most likely, takes to drinking,
and beats his wife, who supports him, or takes to drinking too ; or
he gets a little place, a very little place : you hear he has some
tide-waitership, or is clerk to some new milk company, or is lurking
about a newspaper. He dies, and a suliscrijjtiou is raised lor the
Widow Pigeon, and we look no more to find a likeness of him in
his childrcTi, who ai'e as a new race. Blessed are ye little ones, for
ye are born in poverty and may bear it, or surmount it and die rich.
But woe to the pigeons of this earth, for they are born rich that
they may die poor.
The end of Captain Rook — for we must bring botli him and the
paper to an end — is not more agreeable, but somewhat more manly
and majestic than the conclusion of Mr. Pigeon. If you walk over
to the Queen's Bench Prison, I would lay a wager that a dozen such
are to be found there in a moment. They have a kind of Lucifer
look with them, and stare at you with fierce, twinkling, crow-footed
eyes ; or grin from under huge grizzly moustaches, as they walk up
and (\o\Y\\ in their tattered brocades. What a dreadful activity is
that of a madhouse, or a prison ! — a dreary ilagged courtyard, a long
dark room, and the inmates of it, like the inmates of the menagerie
5IO CHARACTER SKETCHES
cages, ceaselessly walking up aud down ! Marj' Queen of Scots says
very touchingly : —
" Pour inon mal estranger
Je ne m'arreste en place ;
Mais, j'en ay beau changer
Si ma douleur n'efface ! "
Up and down, up and down— the inward woe seems to spur the
body onwards ; and I think in both madhouse and prison you will
find plenty of specimens of our Captain Rook. It is fine to mark
him under the pressure of this woe, and ^ee how fierce he looks
when stirred up liy the long pole of memory. In these a.sylums the
Rooks end their lives ; or, more hapjiv, they die miserably in a
miserable provincial town abroad, and for the benefit of coming
Rooks they commonly die early ; you as seldom hear of an old
Rook (practising his trade) as of a rich one. It is a short-lived
trade : not merry, for the gains are most precarious, and perjietual
doubt and dread are not pleasant accompaniments of a profession : —
not agreeable cither, for though Captain Rook docs not niinil heing
a scoundrel, no man likes to be considered as such, and as such,
he knows very well, does the world consider Ca])tiiin Rook : not
profitable, for the expenses of the trade swallow uji all the jirofits of
it, and in addition leave the bankrn])t with certain habits that have
become a.s nature to him, and wliicli, to live, he mu.-;t gratify. I
know no more miserable wretch than our Rook in his autumn days,
at dismal Calais or Boulogne, or at the Bench yonder, with a whole
load of diseases and wants, that have come to him in the course
of his profession : the diseases and wants of sensuality, always
pampered, and now agonising for lack of its unnatuml food ; the
mind, Avhich mnut think now, and has only bitter recollections,
mortified ambitions, and unavailing scoundrclisms to con ever! Oh,
Captain Rook! what nice "chums" do you take with you into
prison ! what pleasant companions of exile follow you over the Hncs
patrice, or attend, the onlv watchers, round vour miserable death-
bed !
My son, be not a Pigeon in thy dealings with the world : — but
it is better to be a Pigeon than a Rook.
THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS
PAYING a visit the other day to my friend Tiinson, who, I
need not tell the iiublic, is editor of that fomous evening
paper, the **** (and let it be said that there is no more
profitable acquaintance than a gentleman in Timson's situation, in
whose office, at three o'clock daily, you are sure to find new books,
lunch, magazines, and inninnerable tickets for concerts and plays) :
going, I say, into Timson's ofiice, I saw on the tal)le an immense
paper cone or funnel, containing a bouquet of such a size, that it
might be called a bosquet, wherein all sorts of rare geraniums,
luscious magnolias, stately dahlias, and other floral produce were
gathered together — a regular flower-stack.
Timson was for a brief space invisible, and I was left alone in
the room with the odours of this tremendous bow-pot, which filled
the whole of the inky, smutty, dingy apartment with an agreeable
incense. "0 rus ! quando te aspiciam?" exclaimed I, out of the
Latin Grammar, for imagination had carried me away to the country,
and I was about to make another excellent and useful quotation
(from the 14t]i book of the Iliad, madam), concerning "ruddy lotuses,
and crocuses, and hyacinths," when all of a sudden Timson ajjpeared.
His head and shoulders had, in fa(;t, been engidfed in the flowers,
among which he might be compared to any Cupid, butterfly, or bee.
His little face was screwed up into such an expression of comical
deliglit and triumph, that a Methodist parson Av-ould have laughed
at it in the midst of a funeral sermon.
"What arc you giggling at?" said Mr. Timson, assuming a high
aristocratic air.
" Has the goddess Flora made you a present of that bower,
wrapped up in white paper ; or did it come by the vulgar hands
of yonder gorgeous footman, at whom all the little printer's devils
are staring in the passage 1 "
"Stutt"!" said Timson, picking to j)ieces some rare exotic, worth
at the very least fifteenpence ; "a friend, who knows that Mrs.
Timson and I are fond of these things, has sent us a nosegay,
that's all."
T saw how it was. "Augustus Timson,'' exclaimed I sternly.
14 •
512 CHARACTER SKETCHES
" the Rmlicoes have lieen with you ; if that footman did not wear
the Pimlico plush, ring tlie bell and order me out ; if that three-
cornered billet lying in your snuff-box has not the Pimlico seal to it,
never ask me to dinner again."
"Well, if it does" says Mr. Timson, who flushed as red as
a peony, " what is the harm % Lady Fanny Flummery may send
flowers to her friends, I suppose? The conservatories at Pimlico
House are famous all the world over, and the Countess promised me
a nosegay the very last time I dined there."
"Was that the day when she gave you a box of bonbons for
your darling little Ferdinand % "
" No, another day."
"Or the day when she promised you her carriage for Epsom
Races % "
" No."
" Or the day when she hoped that her Lucy and your Barbara-
Jane might be acquainted, and sent to the latter from the former a
new French doll and tea-things ? "
" Fiddlestick ! " roared out Augustus Timson, Esquire : " I wish
you wouldn't come bothering here. I tell you that Lady PimHco
is my friend — my friend, mark you, and I will allow no man to
abuse her in my presence ; I say again no man ! " wherewith Mr.
Timson plunged both his hands violently into his breeches-pockets,
looked me in the face sternly, and began jingling his keys and
shillings about.
At this juncture (it being about half-past three o'clock in the
afternoon), a one-horse chaise drove up to the **** oflice (Timson
lives at Claphana, and comes in and out in this machine), a one-horse
chaise drove up ; and amidst a scuffling and crying of small voices,
good-humoured Mrs. Timson bounced into the room.
"Here we are, deary," said she: "we'll walk to the Mery-
weathers ; and I've told Sam to be in Charles Street at twelve with
the chaise : it wouldn't do, you know, to come out of the Pimlico
box and have the people cry, ' Mrs. Timson's carriage ! ' for old Sam
and the chaise."
Timson, to tliis loving and voluble address of his lady, gave a
peevish puzzled look towards the stranger, as much as to say,
" He's here."
" La, Mr. Smith ! and how do you do ?— So rude — I didn't see
you : but the fact is, we are all in szich a bustle ! Augustus has
got Lady Pimlico's box for the ' Puritani ' to-night, and I vowed
I'd take the children."
Those young persons were evidently from their costume prepared
for some extraordinary festival. Miss Barbara-Jane, a young lady
THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS 513
of six yours old, in a i)retty pink slip and white muslin, her dear
little pull bristling over with papers, to be removed previous to the
play ; while Master Ferdinand had a pair of nankeens (I can recol-
lect Timson in them in the year 1825 — a great buck), and white
silk stockings, which belonged to his mamma. His frill was very
large and very clean, and he was fumbling perpetually at a pair of
white kid gloves, which his mamma forbade him to assume before
the opera.
And "Look here!" and "Oh, precious!" and "Oh, my!"
■were uttered by these worthy people as they severally beheld the
vast, bouquet, into which Mrs. Timsou's head flounced, just as her
husband's had done before.
" I must have a greenhouse at the Snuggery, that's positive,
Timson, for I'm passionately fond of flowers — and how kind of Lady
Fanny ! Do you know her Ladyshii), Mr. Smith 1 "
" Indeed, madam, I don't remember having ever spoken to a
lord or a lady in my life."
Timson smiled in a supercilious way. Mrs. Timson exclaimed,
" La, how odd ! Augustus knows ever so many. Let's see, there's
the Countess of Pimlico and Lady Fanny Flummery; Lord Doldruin
(Timson touched up his Travels, you know) ; Lord Gasterton, Lord
Guttlebury's eldest son ; Lady Pawpaw (they say she ought not to
be visited, though) ; Baron Strum — Strom — Strumpf "
What the baron's name was I have never been able to learn ;
for here Timson burst out with a " Hold your tongue, Bessy ! "
which stopped honest Mrs. Timson's harmless prattle altogether,
and obliged that w^orthy woman to say meekly, " Well, Gus, I did
not think there was any harm in mentioning your acKjuaintance."
Good soul ! it was only because she took pride in her Timson that
she loved to enumerate the great names of the persons who did him
honour. My friend the editor was, in fact, in a cruel position,
looking foolish before his old acquaintance, stricken in that unfor-
tunate sore point in his honest good-humoured character. The man
adored the aristocracy, and had that wonderful respect for a lord
which, perhaps the observant reader may have remarked, especially
characterises men of Timson's way of thinking.
In old days at the club (we held it in a small public-house near
the Coburg Theatre, some of us having free admissions to that place
of amusement, and some of us living for convenience in the imme-
diate neighbourhood of one of His Majesty's prisons in that quarter)
— in old days, I say, at our spouting anil toasted-cheese club, called
" The Forum," Timson was called Brutus Timson, and not Augustus,
in consequence of the ferocious re])ublicanism which characterised
him, and his utter scorn and hatred of a bloated do-nothing aristoc-
2 o
514 CHARACTER SKETCHES
racy. His letters in the Weekly Sentinel, signed " Lictor," must
be remembered by all our readers : he advocated the repeal of the
Corn Laws, the burning of machines, the rights of labour, &c. &c.,
wrote some pretty defences of Robespierre, and used seriously to
avow, when at all in liquor, that in consequence of those " Lictor "
letters. Lord Castlereagh had tried to have him murdered, and
thrown over Blackfriars Bridge.
By what means Augustus Timson rose to his present exalted
position it is needless here to state ; suffice it, that in two years
he was completely bound over neck-and-heels to the bloodthirsty
aristocrats, hereditary tyrants, &c. One evening he was asked to
dine with a Secretary of the Treasury (the **** is Ministerial,
and has been so these forty -nine yeui-s) ; at the house of tluit
Secretary of the Treasury he met a lord's son : walking with Mrs,
Timson in the Park next Sunday, that lord's son saluted him.
Timson was from that moment a slave, liad liis coats made at the
West End, cut liis wife's relations (i\\Qj are dealers in marine stores,
and live at Wapping), and had his name put down at two Clubs.
Wlio was tlie lord's son? Lord Pindico's son, to be sure, the
Honourable Frederick Flummery, who married Lady Fanny Foxy,
daughter of Pitt Castlereagh, second Earl of Reynard, Kilbrush
Castle, county Kildare. The Earl had been Ambassador in '14 :
Mr. Flummery, his attache : he was twenty-one at that time, witli
the sweetest tuft on his chin in the world. Lady Fanny was only
four-and-twenty, just jilted by Prince Scoronconcolo, the horrid man
who had married Miss Solomonson ■with a plum. Fanny had
nothing — -Frederick had about seven thousand pounds less. What
better could the young things do than marry 1 Marry they did,
and in the most delicious secrecy. Old Reynard was charmed to
have an opportunity of breaking with one of his daugliters for ever,
and only longed for an occasion never to forgive the other nine.
A wit of the Prince's time, who inherited and transmitted to
his children a vast fortune of genius, was cautioned on his marriage
to be very economical. " Economical ! " said he ; " my wife has
nothing, and I have nothing : I suppose a man can't live under
that ! " Our interesting pair, by judiciously employing the same
capital, managed, year after year, to live very comfortably, until, at
last, they were received into Pimlico House by the dowager (who
has it for her life), where they live very magnificently. Lady Fanny
gives the most magnificent entertainment in London, has the most
magnificent equipage, and a very fine husband ; who has his equipage
as fine as her Ladyship's ; his seat in the oniiubus, while her Lady-
ship is in the second tier. They say he plays a good deal — ay, and
pays, too, when he loses.
THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS 515
And how, pr'ythee 1 Her Ladyship is a Fashionable Autuo-
RESS. Slie has been at this game for fifteen years ; during which
period she lias published forty-five novels, edited twenty-seven new
magazines, and I don't know how many annuals, besides publishing
poems, plays, desultory thoughts, memoirs, recollections of travel,
and pamphlets without number. Going one day to church, a lady,
whom I knew by her Leghorn bonnet and red ribbons, ruche with
poppies and marigolds, brass fen-onnifere, great red hands, black silk
gown, thick shoes, and black silk stockings ; a lady, whom I knew,
I say, to be a devotional cook, made a bob to me just as the psalm
struck up, and offered me a share of her hymn-book. It was —
"HEAVENLY CHORDS;
A COLLECTION OP
Sacreti .Strnins,
SELECTED, COMPOSED, AND EDITED, BY THE
LADY FRANCES JULIANA FLUMMERY."
— Being simply a collection of heavenly chords robbed from the
lyres of Watts, Wesley, Brady and Tate, &c. ; and of sacred strains
from the rare collection of Sternhold and Hopkins. Out of this,
cook and I sang ; and it is amazing how much our fervoui* was
increased by thinking that our devotions were directed by a lady
whose name was in the Red Book.
The thousands of pages that Lady Fanny Flummery has covered
with ink exceed all belief. You must have remarked, madam, in
respect of this literary fecundity, that your amiable sex possesses
vastly greater capabilities than we do ; and that while a man is
pahifuUy labouring over a letter of two sides, a lady will produce a
dozen pages, crossed, dashed, and so beautifully neat and close, as
to be well-nigh invisible. The readiest of ready pens has Lady
Fanny ; her Pegasus gallops over hot-pressed satin so as to distance
all gentlemen riders ; like Camilla, it scours the plain — of Bath,
and never seems punished or fatigued ; only it runs so fast that it
often leaves all sense behind it ; and there it goes on, on, scribble,
scribble, scribble, never flagging until it arrives at that fair winning-
post on which is written "finis," or "the end"; and shows that
the course, whether it be of novel, annual, poem, or what not, is
complete.
Now, the author of these pages doth not pretend to describe
the inward thoughts, ways, and manner of being of my Lady
5i6 CHARACTER SKETCHES
Fanny, having made before that humiliating confession, that lords
and ladies are personally unknown to him ; so that all milliners,
butchers' ladies, dashing young clerks, and apprentices, or other
persons who are anxious to cultivate a knowledge of the aristocracy,
had better skip over this article altogether. But he hath heard
it whispered, from pretty good authority, that the manners and
customs of these men and women resemble, in no inconsiderable
degree, the habits and usages of other men and women whose
names are unrecorded by Debrett. Granting this, and that Lady
Fanny is a woman pretty much like another, the philosophical
reader will be content that we rather consider her Ladyship in
her public capacity, and examine her influence upon, mankind in
general.
Her person, then, being thus put out of tlie way, her works, too,
need not be very carefully sifted and criticised ; for what is the use of
peering into a millstone, or making calculations about the figure 1
The woman has not, in feet, the sb'ghtest influence ui)on literature
for good or for evil : there are a certain number of fools whom
she catches in her flimsy traps ; and why not 1 They are made to
be humbugged, or how should we live ? Lady Fanny writes every-
thing : that is, nothing. Her poetry is mere wind ; her novels,
stark nought ; her philosophy, sheer vacancy : how should she do
any better than she does'? how could she succeed if she did do
any better 1 If she did write well, she would not be Lady Fanny ;
she would not be ])raised by Timson and the critics, because
she would be an lionest woman, and would not bribe them.
Nay, she would probably be written down by Timson & Co., be-
cause, being an honest woman, she utterly despised them and their
craft.
We have said what she writes for the most part. Individually,
she will throw off" any iuunl)er of novels that Messrs. Siwp and Diddle
will pay for ; and collectively, by the aid of self and friends, scores
of " Lyrics of Loveliness," " Beams of Beauty," " Pearls of Purity,"
&c. Who does not recollect the success which her " Pearls of
the Peerage " had ? She is going to do the " Beauties of the
Baronetage " ; then we shall have the " Daugliters of the Dustmen,"
or some such other collection of portraits. Lady Fanny has around
her a score of literary gentlemen, who are bound to her, body and
soul : give them a dinner, a smile fi'om an oj)era-box, a wave of the
hand in Rotten Row, and they are hers, neck and heels. Vides, mi
fill, &c. See, my son, with what a very small dose of humbug
men are to be bought. I know many of these individuals : there
is my friend M 'Lather, an immense pudgy man : I saw him one
day walking through Bond Street in company with an enormous
THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS 517
ruby breast-pin. " Mac ! " shouted your humble servant, " that is
a Fhuniuery ruby ; " and Mac hated and cursed us ever after.
Presently came little Fitch, the artist : he was rigged out in an
illuminated velvet waistcoat — Flummery again — " There's only one
like it in town," whispered Fitch to me confidentially, " and Flummery
has that." To be sure, Fitch had given, in return, half-a-dozen of
the prettiest drawings in the world. " I wouldn't charge for them,
you know," he says : " for hang it. Lady Fanny is mv friend."
Oh, Fitch, Fitch !
Fifty more instances could be adduced of her Ladyship's ways
of bribery. She bribes the critics to i)raise her, and the writers to
write for her ; and the public flocks to her as it will to any other
tradesman who is properly pufied. Out comes the book : as for its
merits, Ave may allow, cheerfidly, that Lady Fanny has no lack of
that natural esprit which every woman possesses ; but here ])raise
stops. For the style, she does not know her own language ; but, in
revenge, has a smattering of half-a-dozen others. She interlards her
works with fearful quotations from the French, fiddle-faddle extracts
from Italian operas, German phrases fiercely mutilated, and a scrap
or two of bad Spanish ; and upon the strength of these murders,
she calls herself an authoress. To be siu-e there is no such word as
authoress. If any young nobleman or gentleman of Eton College,
when called upon to indite a copy of verses in praise of Sapi)ho, or
the Countess of Dash, or Lady Charlotte What-d'ye-call-'em, or the
Honourable Mrs. Somebody, should fondly imagine that he niiglit
apply to those fail' creatures the title of aucirix — I pity that young
nobleman's or gentleman's case. Doctor "Wordsworth and assistants
would swish that error out of him in a way that need not here be
mentioned. Remember it henceforth, ye writeresses — there is no
such word as authoress. Auctor, madam, is the word. " Optima
tu proprii nominis auctor eris ; " which, of course, means that you
are, by your proper name, an author, not an authoress. The line is
in Ainsworth's Dictionary, where anybody may see it.
This point is settled then : there is no such word as authoress.
But what of that % Are authoresses to be bound by the rules of
grammar 1 The supposition is absurd. We don't expect them to
know their own language ; we prefer rather the little gracei'ul ])ranks
and liberties they take with it. When, for instance, a celebrated
authoress, who wrote a Diaress, calls somebody the prototyjie of his
own father, we feel an obligation to her Ladyship ; the language feels
an obligation ; it has a charm and a privilege with which it was never
before endowed: and it is manifest, that if we call ourselves ante-
types of our grandmothers — can prophesy what we had for dinner
yesterday, and so on, we get into a new range of thought, and
5i8 CHARACTER SKETCHES
discover sweet regions of fancy and poetry, of which the mind hath
never even liad a notion until now.
It may be then considered as certain that an authoress ought
not to know her own tongue. Literature and politics have this
privilege in common, that any ignoramus may excel in both. No
apprenticeship is required, that is certain; and if any gentleman
doubts, let us refer him to the popular works of the present day,
where, if he find a particle of scholarship, or any acquaintance with
any books in any language, or if he be disgusted by any absm-d,
stiff, old-fashioned notions of grammatical propriety, we are ready
to qualify oiu- assertion. A friend of ours came to us the other day
in great trouble. His dear little boy, who had been for some months
attach^ to the stables of Mr. Tilbury's establishment, took a fancy
to the corduroy breeches of some other gentleman employed in the
same emporium — appropriated them, and afterwards disposed of
them for a trifling sum to a relation — I believe his uncle. For this
harmless freak, poor Sam was absolutely seized, tried at Clerkenwell
Sessions, and condemned to six months' useless rotatory labour at
the House of Correction. "The poor fellow was bad enough before,
sir," said his father, confiding in our philanthropy ; " he picked up
such a deal of slang among the stable-boys ; but if you could hear
him since he came from the mill ! he knocks you down with it, sir.
I am afraid, sir, of his becoming a regular prig : f<ir thougli he's a
'cute chap, can read and write, and is mighty smart and handy, A«Jt
no one will take him into service, on account of that business of the
breeches ! "
" What, sir ! " exclaimed we, amazed at the man's simplicity :
" such a son, and you don't know what to do witli him ! a 'cute
fellow, who can write, who has been educated in a stable-yard, and
has had six months' polish in a luiiversity — I mean a prison — and
you don't know what to do with liiml Make a fashionable novelist
of him, and be hanged to you ! " And proud ani I to say that that
young man, every evening, after he comes home from his Avork (he
has taken to street-sweeping in the day, and I don't advise him to
relinquish a certainty) — proud am I to say that he devotes every
evening to literary composition, and is coming out with a novel, in
numbers, of the most fashionable kind.
This little episode is only given for the sake of example : j^ar
exemple, as our authoress would say, Avho delights in French of the
very worst kind. The public likes only the extremes of society,
and votes mediocrity vulgar. From the Author thoy will take
nothing but Fleet Ditch ; from the Autlioress, only the very finest
of rose-water. I have read so many of her Ladyship's novels, that,
egad ! now I don't care for anything under a marquis. Why the
THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS 519
douce should we listen to the intrigues, the misfortunes, the virtues,
and conversations of a couple of countesses, for instance, when we
can have duchesses for our money ? What's a baronet 1 pish ! pisli !
that great coarse red fist in his scutcheon turns me sick ! Wliat's a
baron 1 a fellow with only one more ball than a pawnbroker ; and,
upon my conscience, just as common. Dear Lady Famiy, in your
next novel, give us no more of these low people ; nothing under
strawberry leaves, for the mercy of Heaven ! Suppose, now, you
write us
"ALBERT;
OR,
WHISPERINGS AT WINDSOR.
BY THE LADY FRANCES FLUMMERY."
There is a subject — fashionable circles, curious revelations, exclusive
excitement, &c. To be sure, you must here introduce a viscount,
and that is sadly vulgar ; l:)ut we will pass him for the sake of the
ministerial portefeuiUe, which is genteel. Then you might do
" Leopold ; or, the Bride of Neuilly " ; " The Victim of Wiirtem-
berg " ; " Olga ; or, tlic Autocrat's Daughter " (a capital title) ;
" Henri ! or, Rome in the Nineteenth Century " ; we can fancy the
book, and a sweet paragraph about it in Timson's paper.
" Henri, by Lady Frances Flummery.— Henri ! Who can he
be? a little bird whispers in our ear, that the gifted and talented
Sappho of our hemisphere has discovered some curious particulars
in the life of a certain young chevalier, whose appearance at Rome
had so frightened the Court of the Tu-1-ries. Henri de B-rd — ux
is of an age when the yo^mg god can shoot his darts into the bosom
with fatal accuracy ; and if the Marchesina degli Spinachi (whose
portrait our lovely authoress has sung with a kindred hand) be as
beauteous as she is represented (and as all who have visited in the
exclusive circles of the Eternal City say she is), no wonder at her
effect upon the Pr-nce. Verbum sap. We hear that a few copies
are still remaining. The enterprising publishers, Messrs. Soap and
Diddle, have announced, we see, several other works by the same
accomplished pen."
This paragraph makes its appearance, in small type, in the
****, by the side, perhaps, of a disinterested recommendations
of bear's-grease, or some remarks on the extraordinary cheapness
of plate in Cornhill. Well, two or three days after, my dear
520 CHARACTER SKETCHES
Timson, who has been asked to dinner, writes in his own hand,
and causes to be printed in the largest type, an article to the
following effect : —
" HENRI.
"by lady f. flummery.
" This is another of the graceful evergreens which the fair fingers
of Lady Fanny Flummery are continually strewing upon our path.
At once profound and caustic, truthful and passionate, we are at a
loss whether most to admire the manly grandeur of her Ladyship's
mind, or the exquisite nymph-like delicacy of it. Strange power
of fancy ! Sweet enchantress, that rules the mind at will : stirring
up the utmost depths of it into passion and storm, or wreathing
and dimphng its calm surface with countless summer smiles. As
a great Bard of old Time has expressed it, what do we not owe to
woman 1
" What do we not owe her 1 More love, more happiness, more
calm of vexed spirit, more truthful aid, and pleasant counsel ; in
joy, more delicate sympathy ; in sorrow, more kind companionship.
We look into her cheery eyes, and in those wells of love, care
drowns; we listen to her siren voice, and, in that balmy music,
banished hopes come winging to the breast again."
This goes on for about three-quarters of a column : I don't
pretend to understand it ; but with flowers, angels, Wordsworth's
poems, and the old dramatists, one can never be wrong, I think :
and though I have written tlie above paragraphs myself, and don't
understand a word of them, I can't, upon my conscience, help think-
ing that they are mighty pretty writing. After, then, this has gone
on for about three-quarters of a column (Timson does it in spare
minutes, and fits it to any book that Lady Fanny brings out), he
proceeds to particularise, thus : —
"The griding excitement which thrills through every fibre of
the sold as we peruse these passionate pages, is almost too painful
to bear. Nevertlieless, one drains the draughts of poesy to the
dregs, so deliciously intoxicating is its nature. We defy any man
who begins these volumes to quit them ere he has perused each
line. The plot may be briefly told as thus : — Henri, an exiled
Prince of Franconia (it is easy to understand the flimsy allegory),
arrives at Rome, and is presented to the sovereign Pontiff. At a
feast given in his honour at the Vatican, a dancing girl (the loveliest
creation that ever issued from poet's brain) is introduced, and
THE FASHIONABLE AUTHORESS 521
exhibits some specimens of lier art. The younf^ Prinee is instan-
taneously smitten ^\■ith tlie clianns of the Saltatrice ; he breathes
into her ear tlie accents of his love, and is listened to Avith favour.
He has, liowever, a rival, and a powerful one. The Popk has
already cast his eye upon the Apulian maid, and burns with lawless
passion. One of the grandest scenes ever Avrit, occurs between the
rivals. The Pope offers to Castanetta every temptation ; he will
even resign his crown and marry her : but she refuses. The
Prince can make no such offers ; he cannot wed her : ' The blood
of Borbone,' he says, 'may not be thus misallied.' He deter-
mines to avoid her. In despair, she throws herself off the Tarpeian
rock ; and the Pope becomes a maniac. Such is an outline of tliis
tragic tale.
" Besides this fabulous and melancholy part of the narrative,
which is unsurpassed, much is written in the gay and sparkling
style for which our lovely author is unrivalled. The sketch of the
Marchesina degli Spinachi and her lover, the Duca di Gammoni,
is delicious ; and the intrigue between the beautiful Princs^s
Kalbsbraten and Count Bouterbrod is exquisitely painted : every-
body, of course, knows who these characters are. The discovery
of the manner in which Kartoffeln, the Saxon envoy, poisons the
Princess's dishes, is only a graceful and real repetition of a story
which was agitated throughout all the diplomatic circles last year.
Schinken, the Westphalian, must not be forgotten ; nor 011a, the
Spanish spy. How does Lady Fanny Flummery, poet as she is,
possess a sense of the ridiculous and a keenness of perception which
would do honour to a Rabelais or a RochefoutaukU To those who
ask this question, we have one reply, and that an example:— Not
among women 'tis true ; for till the Lady Fanny came among us,
woman never soared so high. Not among women, indeed ! — but in
comparing her to that great spirit for whom our veneration is highest
and holiest, we offer no dishonour to his shrine : — in saying that he
who wrote of Romeo and Desdemona might have drawn Castanetta
and Enrico, we utter but the truthful expressions of our hearts ; in
asserting that so long as Shakspeare lives, so long will Flummery
endure ; in declaring that he who rules in all licarts, and over all
spirits and all climes, has found a congenial spirit, we do but justice
to Lady Fanny — justice to him who sleeps by Avon ! "
With which we had better, perhaps, com^lude. Our object has
been, in descanting upon the Fashionable Authoress, to point out
the influence which her writing possesses over society, rather than
to cinticise her life. The former is quite haiirdcss : and we don't
pretend to be curious about the latter. The woman herself is not
522 CHARACTER SKETCHES
so blamable ; it is the silly people who cringe at her feet that do
the mischief, aud, gulled themselves, gull the most gullible of publics.
Think you, O Timson, that her Ladyship asks you for your beaux
yeux or your wit 1 Fool I you do think so, or try and think so ;
and yet you know she loves not you, but the **** newspaper.
Think, little Fitch, in your fine waistcoat, how dearly you have paid
for it ! Think, M'Lather, how many smirks, and lies, and columns
of good three-halfpence-a-line matter that big garnet pin has cost
you ! The woman laughs at you, man — you, who fancy that she is
smitten with you — laughs at your absiu-d pretensions, your way of
eating fish at dinner, your great hands, your eyes, your whiskers,
your coat, and your strange north-country twang. Down with this
Delilah ! Avaunt, Circe ! giver of poisonous feeds. To your
natural haunts, ye gentlemen of the press ! if bachelors, frequent
your taverns, and be content. Better is Sally the waiter and the
first cut of the joint, than a dinner of four courses and humbug
therewith. Ye who are married, go to your homes ; dine not with
tJipse persons who scorn your wives. Go not forth to parties, tliat
ye may act Tom Fool for the amusement of my Lord and my Lady ;
but play your natural follies among your natural friends. Do this
for a few years, and the Fiushionable Authoress is extinct. Jove,
wiiat a prospect ! She, too, has retreated to her own natural calling,
being as much out of phice in a book as you, my dear M'Lather,
in a drawing-room. Let Uiilliners look up to her ; let Howell and
James swear by her ; let simpering dandies caper about her car ; let
her write poetry if she likes, but only for the most exclusive circles ;
let mantua-raakers puff her — but not men : let such things be, and
the Fashionable Authoress is no more ! Blessed, blessed thought !
No more fiddle-faddle novels ! no more namliy-pamby poetry ! no
more fribble " Bldssciuis of Loveliness"! When will you arrive,
happy Golden Age ?
THE ARTISTS
IT is confidently stated that there was once a time when the quarter
of Soho was thronged by the fashion of London. Many wide
streets are there in the neighbourhood, stretching cheerfully
towards Middlesex Hospital in the north, bounded l)y Dean Street
in the west, where the Lords and Ladies of William's time used to
dwell, — till in Queen Anne's time, Bloomsbury jiut Soho out of
fashion, and Great Russell Street became the pink of the mode.
Both these quarters of the town have submitted to the awful
rule of Nature, and are now to be seen undergoing the dire process
of decay. Fashion has deserted Soho, and left her in lier gaunt
lonely old age. The houses have a vast, dingy, mouldy, dowager
look. No more beaux, in mighty periwigs, ride by in gilded clatter-
ing coaches ; no more lacqueys accomjjany them, bearing torches,
and shouting for precedence. A s(Jitary policeman paces these soli-
tary streets, the only dandy in the neighbourhood. You hear the
milkman yelling his nulk with a startling distinctness, and the clack
of a servant-girl's pattens sets people a-staring from the windows.
With Bloomsbm-y we have here nothing to do ; but as genteel
stockbrokers inhabit the neighbourhood of Regent's Park, — as lawyers
have taken possession of Russell Square, — so Artists have seized
upon the desolate quarter of Soho. They are to be found in great
numbers in Berners Street. Up to tlie present time naturalists have
never been able to account for this mystery of their residence. What
has a painter to do with Middlesex Hospital % He is to be found
in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. And why 1 Philosophy cannot
tell, any more than why milk is found in a cocoa-nut.
Look at Newman Street. Has earth, in any dismal corner of
her great round face, a spot more desperately gloomy % The windows
are sjjotted witli wafers, holding up ghastly bills, that tell you the
house is "To Let." Nobody walks there — not even an old-clothes-
man ; the first inhabited house has bars to the windows, and bears
the name of "Ahasuerus, ofticer to the Sherifi" of Middlesex"; and
here, above all places, must painters take up their quarters, — day
by day must these reckless people pass Ahasuerus's treble gate.
There was my poor friend Tom Tickner (who did those sweet things
524 CHARACTER SKETCHES
for " The Book of Beauty "). Tom, who could uot pay his washer-
woman, Hved opposite the bailiff's ; and could see every miserable
debtor or greasy Jew writ-bearer that went in or out of his door.
The street begins with a bailiff's, and ends with a hospital. I
wonder how men live in it, and are decently cheerful, with this
gloomy double-barrelled moral pushed perpetually into their faces.
Here, however, they persist in living, no one knows why ; owls
may still be found roosting in Netley Abbey, and a few Arabs are
to be seen at tlie present minute in Palmyra.
The ground-tioors of the houses where jiainters live are mostly
make-believe shops, black empty warehouses, containing fabulous
goods. There is a sedan-chair opposite a house in Rathbone Place,
that I liave myself seen every day for forty-three years. The house
lias commonly a huge india-rubber-coloured door, Avitli a couple of
glistening brass-plates and bells. A portrait-painter lives on the first-
floor ; a great histoiical genius inhabits the second. Remark the first-
floor's middle drawing-room window : it is four feet higher than its two
companions, and has taken a f;uicy to peep into the second-floor front.
So mucli for the outward appearance of their hal)itations, and for
the quarters in Avhich they commonly dwell. They seem to love
solitude, and their mighty spirits rejoice in vastness and gloomy ruin.
I don't say a word here about those geniuses Avho frequent the
thoroughfares of the town, and have picture-frames containing a
little gallery of miniature peers, beauties, and general officers, in
the Quadrant, the passages about St. Martin's Lane, the Strand, and
Cheapside. Lord Lyndhurst is to be seen in many of these gratis
exhibitions — Lord Lyndhurst cribbed from Chalon ; Lady Peel from
Sir Thomas ; Miss Croker from the same ; the Duke, from ditto ;
an original otti(!er in the Spanish Legion ; a colonel or so, of the
Bunhill Row Fencibles ; a lady on a yellow sofa, with four children
in little caps and blue ribands. We liave all of us seen these pretty
l)ictures, and are aware that our own featiu"es may be "done in
this style." Then there is the man on the chain-pier at Brighton,
who pares out your likeness in sticking-i)laster ; there is Miss Croke,
or Miss Runt, who gives lessons in Poonah-i)ainting, ja])anning,
or mezzotinting ; Miss Stump; who attends ladies' scIkjoIs with
large chalk heads from Le Brun or the Cartoons ; Rubbery, Avho
instructs young gentlemen's establishments in pencil ; and Sepio,
of the Water-Colour Society, who paints before eight pupils daily,
at a guinea an hour, keeping his own drawings for himself
All these persons, as the most indifferent reader must see,
equally belong to the tribe of Artists (the last not more than the
first), and in an article like this should be mentioned properly.
But though this i)aper has been extended from eight pages to
THE ARTISTS 525
sixteen, not a volume would suffice to do justice to the biograjiliies
of the persons above mentioned. Think of the superb Sepio, iij a
light-blue satin cravat, and a light-brown coat, and yellow kids,
tripping daintily from Grosvenor Square to Gloucester Place, a
small sugar-loaf boy following, who carries his morocco portfolio.
Sepio scents his handkerchief, curls his hair, and wears, on a great
coarse fist, a large emerald ring that one of his pupils gave him.
He would not smoke a cigar for the world; he is always to ])e
found at the opera ; and, gods ! how he grins, and waggles his head
about, as Lady Fanny nods to him from her box.
He goes to at least six great i)arties in the season. At the
houses where he teaches, he has a faint hope that he is received
as an equal, and propitiates scornful footmen by absurd donations
of sovereigns. The rogue has plenty of them. He has a stock-
broker, and a power of guinea-lessons stowed away in the Consols.
There are a numljer of young ladies of genius in the aristocracy,
who admire him hugely ; he begs you to contradict the report about
him and Lady Smigsmag ; every now and then he gets a present
of game from a marquis ; the City ladies die to have lessons of
him ; he prances about the park on a high-bred cocktail, with.
lacquered boots and enormous high heels ; and he has a mother and
sisters somewhere — washerwomen, it is said, in Pimlico.
How different is his fate to that of poor Rubbery, the school
drawing-master ! Highgate, Homerton, Putney, Hackney, Hornsey,
Turnham Green, are his resorts ; he has a select seminary to attend
at every one of these places ; and if, from all these nurseries of
youth, he obtains a sufficient nundier of half-crowns to pay his
week's bills, what a happy man is he !
He lives most likely in a third floor in Howland Street, and
has commonly five children, who have all a marvellous talent for
drawing — all save one, perhaps, that is an idiot, which a jioor sick
mother is ever carefully tending. Se})io's great aim and battle
in life is to be considered one of the aristocracy ; honest Rubbery
would ftiin be thought a gentleman, too ; but, indeed, he does not
know whether he is so or not. Why be a gentleman 1 — A gentle-
man Artist does not obtain the wages of a tailor ; Rubbery's butcher
looks down upon him with a royal scorn ; and his wife, poor gentle
soul (a clergyman's daughter, who married him in the firm belief
that her John would be knighted and make an immense fortune), —
his wife, I say, has many fierce looks to suffer from Mrs. Butcher,
and many meek excuses or prayers to proffer, when she cannot
pay her bill, — or when, worst of all, she has humbly to beg for
a little scrap of meat upon credit, against John's coming home.
He has five-and-twenty miles to walk that day, and must have
526 CHARACTER SKETCHES
somethiiif^ nourishing when he comes in — he is killing himself, poor
fellow, she knows he is ; and Miss Crick has promised to pay him
his quarter's charge on the very next Saturday. "Gentlefolks,
indeed," says Mrs. Butcher ; " pretty gentlefolks these, as can't pay
for half a pound of steak ! " Let us thank Heaven that the Artist's
wife has her meat, however, — there is good in that shrill, fat,
mottled-faced Mrs. Brisket, after all.
Think of tlie labours of that ])i)or Rubbery.. He was up at four
in the morning, and toiled till nine upon a huge damp icy htho-
graphic stone, — on which he has drawni the " Star of the Wave,"
or the " Queen of the Tourney," or, " She met at Almack's," for
Lady Flummery's last new song. This done, at half-past nine he
is to be seen striding across Kensington (Jardcns, t<> wait ujion the
before-named Miss Crick, at Lament House. Transport yourself in
imagination to the Misses Kittle's seminary, Potzdam Villa, L^pper
Homerton, four miles from Shoreditcli ; and at half-past two.
Professor Rubbery is to be seen swinging along towarils the gate.
Somebody is on the look-out for him : indeed it is his eldest daughter
Marianne, who has liecn pacing the shrubbery, and jxMMJng over the
green railings this half-hour p;u>t. Slie is with the Misses Kittle on
the " mutual system," a thousand times more despised than the
butchers' and the grocers' daughters, who arc e<lucated on the s;»me
terms, and wliose papas are warm men in AMgate. Wednesday is
the hapj)i('st day of Marianne's week : and tliis the happiest liour of
Wednesday ! Behr»ld ! Professor RuIiImmt wijx?s his hot lm»ws and
kisses the jjoor thing, and they go in together out of the rain, and
he tells her tliat the twins are well out of tlie measles, thank God !
and that Tom has just done the Antinous, in a way that nnist make
him sure of the Academy prize, and that mother is better of her
rheumatism now. He ha.s broU'.:lit her a letter, in large round-hand,
from Polly ; a famous soldier, drawn by little Frank ; and when,
after his two houi*s' lesson, R»d)bery is otl' again, our dear Marianne
cons over the letter and picture a hundred times with soft tearful
smiles, and stows them away in an old writing-desk, amidst a heap
more of precious home rt'lic.><, wretchcil trumperv si-nijis and baubles,
that you and I, madam, would sneer at ; Init that in the poor child's
eyes (and, I think, in the eyes of One who knows how to value
widows' mites and huml)le sinners' olfrrinirs) are lietter than bank-
notes and Pitt diamonds. kintl Ht'aven, that has given the.se
treasures to the poor ! Many and many an liour does Marianne lie
awake with fidl eyes, and yearn for that wretched old lo<lging in
Howland Street, where mother and brothers lie sleeping ; an<l, gods !
what a fete it is, when twice or thrice in the year she comes home I
THE ARTISTS 527
I forget how many hundred miUions of miles, for how many
bilHons of centuries, how many thousands of decillions of angels,
peris, houris, demons, afreets, and the like, Mahomet travelled,
lived, and counted, during the time that some water was falling
from a bucket to the groimd ; but have we not been wandering most
egregiously away from Rubbery, during the minute in which his
daughter is changing his shoes, and taking off" his reeking macintosh,
in the hall of Potzdam Villa ? She thinks him the finest artist that
ever cut an H. B. ; that's positive : and as a drawing-master, his
merits are wonderful : for at the Misses Kittle's annual vacation
festival, when the young ladies' drawings are exhibited to their
mammas and relatives (Rubbery attending in a clean shirt, with
his wife's large brooch stuck in it, and drinking negus along
with the very best) ; — at the annual festival, I say, it will be
foimd that the sixty-four drawings exhibited — " Tintern Abbey,"
"Kenilworth Castle," " Horse— fram Carl Vernet," " Head^from
West," or what not (say sixteen of each sort) — are the one exactly
as good as the other ; so that, although Miss Slamcoe gets the prize,
there is really no reason why Miss Timson, who is only four years
old, should not have it ; her design being accurately stroke for stroke,
tree for tree, curl for curl, the same as Miss Slamcoe's, who is
eighteen. The fact is, that of these drawings, Rubbery, in the
course of the year, hjis done every single stroke, although the girls
and their parents are ready to take their affidavits (or, as I heard
once a great female grammarian say, their affies davit) that the
drawing-master has never been near the sketches. This is the way
with theni ; but mark !— when young ladies come home, are settled
in life, and mammas of families, — can they design so much as a
horse, or a dog, or a "moo-cow," for little Jack who bawls out for
them ? Not they ! Rubbcry's pupils have no more notion of
drawing, any more than Sepio's of painting, when that eminent
artist is away.
Between these two gentlemen, lie a whole class of teachers of
drawing, who resemble them more or less. I am ashamed to say
that Rubbery takes his j^ipe in the parlour of an hotel, of which the
largest room is devoted to the convenience of poor people, amateurs
of British gin : whilst Sepio trips down to the Club, and has a pint
of the smallest claret : but of course the tastes of men vary ; and
you find them simple or presuming, careless or prudent, natural and
vulgar, or false and atrociously genteel, in all ranks and stations
of life.
As for the other persons mentioned at the beginning of this
discourse, viz. the cheap portrait-painter, the portrait-cutter in
sticking-plaster, and Miss Croke, the teacher of mezzotint and
15
528 CHARACTER SKETCHES
Poonah-painting, — nothing need be said of them in this place, as we
have to speak of matters more important. Only about Miss Croke,
or about other professors of cheap art, let the reader most sedulously
avoid them. Mezzotinto is a take-in, Poonah-painting a rank,
villainous deception. So is " Grecian art without bru.sh or pencils."
These are only small mechanical contrivances, over which young
ladies are made to lose time. And now, having disposed of these
small skirmishers who hover round the great body of Artists, we
are arrived in presence of the main force, that we must begin to
attack in form. In the " partition of the earth," as it has been
described by Schiller, the reader will remember that the poet,
finding himself at the end of the general scranil)le without a single
morsel of plunder, applied passionately to Jove, who pitied the
poor fellow's condition, and complimented him with a seat in the
Empyrean. " The strong and the cunning," says Jupiter, " have
seized upon the inheritance of the world, whilst thou weft star-
gazing and rhyming : not one single acre remains wherewith I can
endow thee ; but, in revenge, if thou art disposed to visit me in my
own heaven, come when thou wilt, it is always open to thee."
The cunning and strong have scrambled and struggled more on
our own little native spot of earth than in any other place on the
world's surface ; and the English poet (whether he handles a pen or
a pencil) has little other refuge than that windy unsubstantial one
which Jove has vouchsafed to him. Such airy board and lodging
is, however, distasteful to many ; who prefer, therefore, to give up
their poetical calling, and, in a vulgar beef-eating world, to feed
upon and fight for vulgar beef
For such persons (among the class of painters), it may be
asserted that portrait-painting was invented. It is the Artist's
compromise with heaven ; " the light of common day," in which,
after a certain quantity of " travel from the East," the genius fades
at last. Ahh6 Barth^lemy (who sent Le Jeune Anacharsis travel-
ling through Greece in the time of Plato, — travelling through
ancient Greece in lace ruffles, red heels, and a pigtail), — Abbd
Barthdlemy, I say, declares that somebody was once standing
against a wall in the sun, and that somebody else traced the
outline of somebody's shadow ; and so painting was " invented."
Angelica Kauff"mann has made a neat picture of this neat subject ;
and very well worthy she was of handling it. Her painting might
grow out of a wall and a piece of charcoal ; and honest Barthdlemy
might be satisfied that he had here traced the true origin of the art.
What a base pedigree have these abominable Greek, French, and
High-Dutch heathens invented for that which is divine ! — a wall,
ye gods, to be represented as the father of that which came down
THE ARTISTS 529
radiant from you ! Tlic man who invented such a blasphemy ought
to be impaled upon broken bottles, or shot off pitilessly by spring-
guns, nailed to the bricks like a dead owl or a weasel, or tied up — a
kind of vulgar Prometheus — and baited for ever by the house-dog.
But let not our indignation carry us too far. Lack of genius in
some, of bread in others, of patronage in a shop-keeping world, that
thinks only of the useful, and is little inclined to study the sublime,
has turned thousands of persons calling themselves, and wishing to
be, Artists, into so many common f;xce-painters, who must look out
for the " kalon " in the fat features of a red-gilled Alderman, or, at
best, in a pretty, simpering, white-necked beauty from " Almack's."
The dangerous charms of these latter, especially, have seduced away
many painters ; and we often think that this very physical superi-
ority which English ladies possess, this tempting brilliancy of health
and complexion, which belongs to them more than to any others,
has operated upon our Artists as a serious disadvantage, and kept
them from better things. The French call such beauty " La beaute
du Diable " ; and a devilish power it has truly ; before our Armidas
and Helens how many Rinaldos and Parises have fallen, who are con-
tent to forget their glorious calling, and slumber away their energies
in the laps of these soft tempters. ye Britisli enchantresses ! I
never see a gilded annual book without likening it to a small island
near Cape Pelorus, in Sicily, whither, by twanging of harps, singing
of ravishing melodies, glancing of voluptuous eyes, and tlie most
beautiful fashionable undress in the world, the naughty sirens lured
the passing seaman. Steer clear of them, ye Artists ! pull, ]iull for
your lives, ye crews of Suffolk Street and tlie Water-Colour (Jallery !
stop your ears, bury your eyes, tie yourselves to the mast, and away
with you from the gaudy smiling " Books of Beauty." Land, and
you are ruined ! Look well among the flowers on yonder ])carli— it
is whitened with the bones of painters.
For my part, I never have a model under seventy, and lici- witli
several shawls and a cloak on. By these means tlic imagination
gets lair play, and the morals remain unendangered.
Personalities are odious ; but let the British public look at the
pictures of the celebrated Mr. Shalloon — the moral British public —
and say whether our grandchildren (or the grandchildren of the
exalted personages whom Mr. Shalloon paints) will not have a queer
idea of the manners of their grandmammas, as they are represented
in the most beautiful, dexterous, captivating water-colour drawings
that ever were 1 Heavenly powers, how they simper an<l ogle ! with
what gimcracks of lace, ribbons, ferronnieres, smelling-bottles, and
what not, is every one of them overloaded. What shoulders, what
ringlets, what funny little pug-dogs do they most of them exhibit to
530 CHARACTEK SKETCHES
us ! The days of Lancret and Watteau are lived over again, and
the Court ladies of the time of Queen Victoria look as moral as
the immaculate countesses of the clays of Louis Quinze. The last
President of the Royal Academy * is answerable for many sins, and
many imitators ; especially for that gay, simpering, meretricious
look which he managed to give to every lady who sat to him for her
portrait ; and I do not know a more curious contrast than that
which may be perceived by any one who vnW examine a collection of
his portraits by the side of some by Sir Joshua Reynolds. They
seem to have painted different races of people ; and when one hears
very old gentlemen talking of the superior beauty that existed in
their early days (as very old gentlemen, from Nestor doAvnwards,
have and will), one is inclined to believe that there is some truth in
what they say ; at least, that the men and women under George
the Third were far superior to their descendants in the time of
George the Fourth. Whither has it fled — that calm matronly
grace, or beautiful virgin innocence, which belonged to the happy
women who sat to Sir Joshua ? Sir Thomas's ladies are ogling out
of tlieir gilt frames, and asking us for admiration ; Sir Joshua's sit
quiet, in maiden meditation fancy free, not anxious for applause,
but sure to command it ; a thousand times more lovely in their
sedate serenity than Sir Thomas's ladies in their smiles, and their
satin ball-dresses.
But th\s is not the general notion, and the ladies prefer the
manner of the modern Artist. Of course, such being the case, the
painters must follow the fashion. One could point out half-a-dozen
Artists who, at Sir Thomas's death, have seized upon a shred of his
somewhat tawdry mantle. There is Carmine, for instance, a man
of no small repute, who will stand as the representative of his
class.
Carmine has had the usual education of a painter in this
country : he can read and write — that is, has spent years drawing
the figure — and has made his foreign tour. It may be that he had
original talent once, but he has learned to forget this, as the great
bar to his success ; and must imitate, in order to live. He is
among Artists what a dentist is among surgeons — a man who is
employed to decorate the human head, and wlio is paid enormously
f(ir so doing. You know one of Carmine's beauties at any
exhibition, and see the process by which they are manufactured.
He lengthens the noses, widens the foreheads, opens the eyes, and
gives them the proper languishing leer ; diminishes the mouth, and in-
fallibly tips the ends of it with a pretty smile of his favourite colour.
* Sir Thomas Lawrence.
THE ARTISTS 531
He is a personable, wliite-lianded, bald-licadod, iiiiddle-a;ied man
m)\\\ with tliat f;ravo hlandness of look Avliioh one sees in so many
prosporuu.s empty-headed people. He has a collection of little
stories and Court gossip about Lady This, and " my particular
friend, Lord S6-and So," which he lets off in succession to every
sitter : indeed, a most bland, irreproachable, gentlemanlike man.
He gives most patronising advice to young Ai-tists, and makes a
point of praising all — not certainly too much, but in a gentleman-
like, indifferent, sinii)rring way. This should be the maxim wi;h
prosperous persons, who have had to make their way, and wish to
keep what they have made. They praise everybody, and are called
good-natured benevolent men. Surely no benevolence is so easy ; it
simply consists in lying, and smiling, and wishing everybody well.
You will get to do so quite naturally at last, and at no expense of
truth. At first, when a man has feelings of his own — feelings of
love or of anger — this perpetual grin and good-liumour is hard to
maintain. I used to imagine, when I first knew Carmine, that
there were some particular springs in his wig (that glossy, oily,
curly crop of chestnut hair) that pulled up his features into a smile,
and kept the muscles so fixed for the day. I don't think so now,
and should say he grinned, even when he was asleep and his teetii
were out ; the smile does not lie in the manufacture of the wig, but
in the construction of the brain. Claude Carmine has the org-an of
(lout care-a-darnn-ativeness wonderfully developed ; not tliat reckless
don't-care-a-damn-ativeness which leads a man to disregard all the
world, and himself into the bargain, (vlaude stops before he comes
to himself ; but beyond that individual member of the Royal
Academy, has not a single sympathy for a single human creature.
The account of his friends' deaths, woes, misfortunes, or good-luck,
he receives with equal good-nature ; he gives three splendid dinners
per annum, — Gunter, Dukes, Fortnum and Mason, everything ; he
dines out the other three hundred and sixty-two days in the year,
and was never known to give away a shilling, or to advance, for
one half-hour, the forty pounds per quarter wages that he gives to
Mr. Scumble, who works the backgrounds, limbs, and draperies of
his portraits.
He is not a good painter : how should he be whose painting as
it were never goes beyond a whisper, and who would make a general
simpering as he looked at an advancing cannon-ball 1 — but he is not
a bad painter, being a keen respectable man of the world, who has
a cool head, and knows what is what. In France, where tigerism
used to be the fashion among the painters, I make no doid»t Carmine
would have let his beard and wig grow, and looked tlie fiercest of
the fierce ; but with us a man must be genteel ; the perfection of
532 CHARACTER SKETCHES
style (in writing and in drawing-rooms) being " de ne pas en avoir"
Carmine of course is agreeably vapid. His conversation has ac-
cordingly the flavour and briskness of a clear, brilliant, stale bottle
of soda-water,— once in five minutes or so, you see rising up to the
siu-fece a little bubble— a little tiny shining point of Tsit- it rises
and explodes feebly, and then dies. With regard to wit, people of
fashion (as we are given to understand) are satisfied with a mere
soupcon of it. Anything more were indecorous ; a genteel stomach
could not bear it : Carmine knows the exact proportions of the
dose, and would not venture to administer to his sitters anything
beyond the requisite quantity.
There is a great deal more said here about Carmine — the man,
than Carmine- the Artist; but what can be written about the
latter 1 New ladies in white satin, new Generals in red, new Peers
in scariet and ermine, and stout Members of Pariiament pointing to
inkstands and sheets of letter-paper, with a Turkey-carpet beneath
them, a red curtain above them, ?. Doric pillar supporting them, and
a tremenilous storm of thmider and lightning lowering and flashing
in the background, spring up every year, and take their (hie positions
"upon the line" in the Academy, and send their comjflcraents of
hundreds to swell Carmine's heap of Consols. If he paints Lady
Flummery for the tenth time, in the character of the tenth Muse,
what need have we to say anything about it 1 The man is a good
workman, and will manufacture a decent article at tlie l>est price ;
l)ut we should no more think of noticing each, than of writing fresh
criri(iues upon every new coat that Nugee or Stultz turned out. The
papers say, in reference to* his pictiu-e "No. 591. 'Full-length por-
tiait of her Grace the Duchess of Doldrum. Carmine, R.A.' Mr.
Carmine never fails ; tliis work, like all others by the same artist,
is excellent."— Or, " No. 591, &c. The lovely Duchess of Doldruni
has received from Mr. Carmine's pencil amjile justice ; the chiar'
oscuro of the picture is perfect ; the likeness admirable ; the keep-
ing and colouring have the true Titianesque giusto ; if we might
hint a faiUt, it has the left ear of the lapdog a 'little' out of
drawing."
Then, perhaps, comes a criticism which says : " The Duchess
of Doldrum's picture by Mr. Carmine is neither better nor worse
than five hundred other performances of the same artist. It woidd
be very unjust to say that these portraits are bad, for they have
really a considerable cleverness ; but to say that they were good,
would be quite as false ; nothing in our eyes was ever further from
being so. Everv ten vears Mr. Carmine exhibits what is called an
original picture of three inches square, but beyond this, nothmg
original is-tp be found in him : as a lad, he copied Reynolds, then
THE ARTISTS 533
Opie, then Lawrence ; then having made a sort of style of his own,
he has copied himself ever since," &c.
And then the critic goes on to consider the various parts of
Carmine's pictures. In speaking of critics, their peculiar relation-
ship with painters ought not to be forgotten ; and as in a former
paper we have seen how a fashionable authoress has her critical
toadies, in like manner has the painter his enemies and friends in
the press ; with this difference, probably, that the writer can bear
a fair quantity of abuse without wincing, while the artist not un-
commonly grows mad at such strictures, considers them as personal
matters, inspired by a ])rivate feeling of hostility, and hates the
critic for life who has ventured to question his judgment in any way.
We have said before, poor Academicians, for how many conspiracies
are you made to answer ! We may add now, poor critics, -nhat
black personal animosities are discovered for you, when you ha])pen
(right or wrong, but according to your best ideas) to sjjeak the
truth ! Say that Snooks's picture is badly coloured, — " heavens ! "
shrieks Snooks, "what can I have done to offend this fellow?"
Hint that such a figure is badly drawn — and Snooks instantly
declares you to be his personal enemy, actuated only by envy and
vile pique. My friend Pebbler, himself a famous Artist, is of
opinion that the critic should neve7- abuse the painter's performances,
because, says he, the painter knows much better tlian any one else
what his own faults are, and because you never do him any good.
Are men of the brush so obstinate ? — very likely ; but the public
— the public 1 are we not to do our duty liy it too 1 and, aided by
our superior knowledge and genius for the fine arts, jjoint out to it
the way it should go ? Yes, surely ; and as by the efforts of dull or
interested critics many bad painters have been palmed off upon the
nation as geniuses of the first degree ; in like manner, the sagacious
and disinterested (like some we could name) have endeavoured t(j
provide this British nation with pure principles of taste, — or at least,
to prevent them from adopting such as are impure.
Carmine, to be sure, comes in for very little abuse ; and, indeed,
he deserves but little. He is a fashionable painter, and preserves
the golden mediocrity which is necessary for the. fashion. Let us
bid him good-bye. He lives in a house all to himself, most likely,
— has a footman, sometimes a carriage ; is apt to belong to the
" Athenaeum " ; and dies universally respected : that is, not one
single soul cares for him dead, as he, living, did not care for one
single soul.
Then, perhaps, we should mention M'Gilp, or Blather, rising
young men, who will fill Carmine's place one of these days, and
occupy his house in , when the fulness of time shall come, and
534 CHARACTER SKETCHES
(he borne to a narrow grave in the Harrow Road by the whole
mourning Royal Academy) they shall leave tlieir present first-floor
in Newman Street, and step into his very house and shoes.
There is little diflference between the juniors and the seniors :
they grin when they are talking of him together, and express a
perfect confidence that they can paint a head against Carmine any
(lay — as very likely they caji. But until 'his demise, they are
occupied with painting people about the Regent's Park and Russell
Square ; are very glad to have the chance of a popular clergyman,
or a college tutor, or a mayor of Stoke Poges after the Reform Bill.
Such characters are commonly mezzotinted afterwards; and the
portrait of our esteemed townsman So-and-So, by tliat talented
artist Mr. M'Gilp, of London, is favourably noticed by the pro-
vincial press, and is to be found over the sideboards of many
country gentlemen. If they come up to towTi, to whom do they
go? To M'Gilp, to be sure; and thus, slowly, his practice and
his prices inc-rease.
The Academy student is a personage that should not be omitted
here ; he resembles very much, outwardly, the medical student, and
has many of the hitter's habits and pleasures. He very often wears
a broad-brimmed hat and a fine dirty crimson velvet waistcoat, his
hair commonly grows long, and he has braiding to his pantaloons.
He works leisurely at the Academy, he loves theatres, billiards, and
novels, and has his house-of-call somewhere in the neighbourhood
of St. Martin's Lane, where he and his brethren meet and sneer at
Royal Academicians. If you ask him what line of art he pureues,
he answers with a smile exceedingly sujjercilious, " Sir, I am an
historical painter ; " meaning tiiat lie will only condescend to take
subjects from Hume, or Robertson, or from the cla-ssics — which he
knows nothing about. This stage of an historical painter is only
preparatory, lasting perhaps from eighteen to five-and-twenty, when
the gentleman's madness begins to disappear, and he comes to look
at life steridy in the face, and to learn that man shall not live by
historical painting alone. Then our friend falls to portrait-painting
or animal-painting, or makes some other such sad compromise with
necessity.
He has probably a small i)atrimony, which defrays the charge
of his studies and cheap pleasures during his period of apprentice-
ship. He makes the ohligi toiu- to France and Italy, and returns
from those countries with a multitude of spoiled canvases, and a
large pair of moustaches, with which he establishes himself in one
of the dingy streets of Soho before mentioned. Tliere is poor
Pi])son, a man of indomitable patience, and undying enthusiasm
for his profession. He could paper Exeter Hall with his studies
THE ARTISTS 535
from the life, and with jjurtraits in chalk and oil of French saj)curs
and Italian brigands, that kindly descend from their mountain-
caverns, and quit their murderous occupations, in order to sit to
young gentlemen at Rome, at the rate of ten]ience an hour. Pipson
returns from abroad, establishes himself, has his cards printed, and
waits and waits for commissions for great historical pictures. Mean-
while, night after night, he is to be found at his old place in the
Academy, copying the old life-guardsman — working, working away
■ — and never advancing one jot. At eighteen, Pipson copied statues
and life-guardsmen to admiration ; at five-and-thirty he can make
admirable drawings of life-guardsmen and statues. Beyond this
he never goes ; year after year his historical picture is returned to
him by the envious Academicians, and he grows old, and his little
patrimony is long since spent ; and he earns nothing himself How
does he supjjort hope and life ? — that is the wonder. No one knows
until he tries (which God forbid he should !) upon what a small
matter hope and life can be supported. Our poor fellow lives on
from year to year in a miraculous way ; tolerably cheerful in the
midst of his semi-starvation, and wonderfully confident about next
year, in sj)ite of the failures of the last twenty-five. Let us thank
God for imparting to us, poor weak mortals, the inestimable blessing
of vanity. How many half-witted votaries of the arts — poets,
painters, actors, musicians — live upon this food, and scarcely any
other ! If the delusion were to drop from Pii)son's eyes, and he
should see himself as he is, — if some malevolent genius were to
mingle with his feeble brains one fatal particle of common sense, —
he would just walk off Waterloo Bridge, and abjure poverty, in-
capacity, cold lodgings, unpaid baker's bills, ragged elbows, and
deferred hopes, at once and for ever.
We do not mean to depreciate the profession of historical "painting,
but simply to warn youth against it as dangerous and unprofitable.
It is as if a young fellow should say, " I will be a Rafiaelle or a
Titian, — a Milton or a Shakespeare," and if he will count up how
many people have lived since the world began, and how many tliere
have been of the Rafiaelle or Shakes] )eare sort, he can calculate to
a nicety what are the chances in his fiivour. Even successful his-
torical painters, what are they 1 — in a worldly point of view, they
mostly inhabit the second-floor, or have great desolate studios in
back premises, whither hfe-guardsmen, old-clothesmen, blackamoors,
and other " j^roperties " are conducted, to figure at full length as
Roman conquerors, Jewish high-priests, or Otliellos on canvas. Then
there are gay smart water-colour painters, — a flourishing and pleasant
trade. Then there are shabby, fierce-looking geniuses, in ringlets, and
all but rags, who paint, and whose pictures are never sold, and who
536 CHARACTER SKETCHES
vow they are tlie objects of some general and scoundrelly conspiracy.
There are landscape-painters, who travel to the uttermost ends of
the earth and brave heat and cold, to bring to the greedy British
public views of Cairo, Calcutta, St. Petersburg, Timbuctoo. You see
English artists under the shadow of the Pyramids, making sketches
of the Copts, perched on the backs of dromedaries, accompanying a
caravan across the desert, or getting materials for an annual in Iceland
or Siberia. What genius and what energy do not they all exhibit —
these men, whose profession, in this wise country of ours, is scarcely
considered as liberal !
If we read the works of the Reverend Doctor Lemprifere, Mon-
sieur Winckelmann, Professor Plato, and others who have written
concerning the musty old Grecians, we shall find that the Artists of
those barbarous times meddled with all sorts of trades besides their
own, and dabbled in fighting, philosophy, metaphysics, both Scotch
and German, politics, music, and the deuce knows wliat. A rambling
sculptor, who used to go about givinf: lectures in those days, Socrates
by name, declared that the wisest of men in his time were Artists.
This Plato, before mentioned, went through a regidar course of draw-
ing, figure and landscape, l)lack-lead, chalk, with or without stump,
sepia, water-colour, and oils. Wa.s there ever such absurdity known 1
Among these benighted heathens, painters were the most accomplished
gentlemen, — and the most accomplished gentlemen were j»aintei"s :
tiie former would make you a speet-h, or read you a dissertation on
Kant, or lead you a regiment, — with the very best statesman, philo-
sopher, or soldier in Athens. And they had the folly to say, that by
thus busying and accomplishing themselves in all manly studies, they
were advancing eminently in tlieir own peculiar one. Wliat was the
consequence 1 Why, that fellow Socrates not only made a miserable
fiftli-rate' sculptor, but was actually hanged for trea.son.
And serve him right. Do our young artists study anything
beyond the proper way of cutting a pencil, or drawing a model ? Do
you hear of thein hard at work over books, and bothering their brains
with nmsty learning ? Not they, forsooth : we understand tlie doctrine
of division of labour, and each man sticks to his trade. Artists ilo
not meddle with the pursuits of the rest of the world ; and, in
revenge, the rest of the world does not meddle with Artists. Fancy
an Artist being a senior wrangler or a politician ; and, on the othea-
hand, fancy a real gentleman turned painter ! No, no ; ranks are
defined. A real gentleman may get money by the law, or by wearing
a red coat antl fighting, or a black one and preaching ; but that he
should sell himself to Art — forbid it, Heaven ! And <lo not let
your Ladyship on reading this cry " Stufi" !- -stupid envy, rank re-
publicanism, — an artist is a gentleman." Madam, would you like to
THE ARTISTS
537
see your son, the Honourable Fitzroy Plantagenet, a painter? You
would die sooner ; the escutcheon of the Smigsmags would be ])lotted
for eveY, if Plantagenet ever ventured to make a mercantile use of a
bladder of paint.
Time was — some hundred years back — when writers lived in
Grub Street, and poor ragged Johnson shrank behind a screen in
Cave's parlour — that the author's trade was considered a very mean
one, which a gentleman of family could not take up but as an
amateur. This absurdity is pretty nearly worn out now, and I do
humbly hope and pray for the day when the other shall likewise
disappear. If there be any nobleman with a talent that way, why
— why don't we see him among the R.A.'s?
501. The Schoolmaster. Sketch ) ^''^'] Henry, Lord, i?. A i^. 72..?.
taken abroad . . ) 'V/' ""-^ ^«^*«««^ Institute
{ Of r ranee.
502. View of the Artist's Resi- ( Maconkey, Right Honourable
dence at Windsor . j T. B.
503. Murder of the Babes in the \ Rustle, Lord J.
Tower . . . j Pill, Right Honourable Sir Robert.
504. A Little Agitation . . O'Carrol, Daniel, M.R.I.A.
Fancy, I say, such names as these figuring in the Catalogue of the
Academy : and why should they not ? The real glorious days of
the art (which wants equality and not patronage) will revive then.
Patrtmage — a plague on the word ! — it implies inferiority ; and in
the name of all that is sensible, why is a respectable country gentle-
man, or a city attorney's lady, or any person of any rank, however
exalted, to " patronise " an Artist ?
There are some who sigh for the past times, when magnificent
swaggering Peter Paul Rubens (who himself patronised a queen)
rode abroad with a score of gentlemen in his train, and a purse-
bearer to scatter ducats ; and who love to think how he was made
an English knight and a Spanish grandee, and went of embassies as
if he had been a born marquis. Sweet it is to remember, too, that
Sir Antony Vandyck, K.B., actually married out of the peerage :
and that when Titian dropped his mahlstick, the Emperor Charles V.
picked it up (0 gods ! what hei'oic self-devotion) — picked it up,
saying, " I can make fifty dukes, but not one Titian." Nay, was
not the Pope of Rome going to make Raffaelle a Cardinal, — and
were not these golden days 1
Let us say at once, " No." The very fuss made about certain
painters in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries shows that the
body of Artists had no rank or position in the world. They hung
538 CHARACTER SKETCHES
upon single patrons : and every man who holds his place by such a
tenure must feel himself an inferior, more or less. The times are
changing now, and as authors are no longer compelled to send their
works abroad under the guardianship of a great man and a slavish
dedication, painters, too, are beginning to deal directly with the
public. Who are the great picture-buyers now 1 — the engravers
and their employers, the people, — "the only source of legitimate
power," as they say after dinner. A fig then for Cardinals' hats !
Were Mr. O'Connell in power to-morrow, let us hope he would not
give one, not even a paltry bishopric in 2Mrtilm!^, to tlie best painter
in the Academy. What need have they of honours out of the
profession ? Why are they to be be-kuightcd like a parcel of
aldermen 1 — for my part, I solemnly declare, that I will take nothing
under a peerage, after the exhibition of my great picture, and don't
see, if jjainters must have titles conferred u])on them for eminent
services, why the Manjuis of Mulready or the Earl of Landseer
should not sit in the House as well as any law or soldier lord.
The truth to be elicited from this little digressive dissertation
is this painful one,- — that young Artists are not generally as well
instructed as they should be ; and let the Royal Academy look to
it, and give some sound courses of lectures to their pupils on
literature and liistory, as well as on anatomy, or light and shade.
THE FATAL BOOTS
THE FATAL BOOTS
JANUARY— THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR
SOME poet has observed, that if any man would write down
what has really happened to liini in this mortal life he would
be sure to make a good book, though he never had met with
a single adventure from his birth to his burial. How much more,
then, must I, who have had adventures, most singular, pathetic, and
unparalleled, be able to compile an instructive and entertaining
volume for the use of the public.
I don't mean to say that I have killed lions, or seen the wonders
of travel in the deserts of Arabia or Persia ; or that I have been a
very fashionable character, living with dukes and peeresses, and
writing my recollections of them, as the way now is. I never left
this my native isle, 'nor spoke to a lord (except an Irish one, wlio
had rooms in our house, and forgot to ])ay three weeks' lodging and
extras) ; but, as our immortal bard observes, I have in the coiu'se
of my existence been so eaten up by the slugs and harrows of out-
rageous fortune, and have been the object of such continual and
extraordinary ill-luck, that I believe it would melt the heart of a
milestone to read of it — that is, if a milestone had a heart of any-
thing but stone.
Twelve of my adventiu-es, suitable for meditation and perusal
during the twelve months of the year, have been arranged by me
for this work. They contain a part of the history of a great, and,
confidently I may say, a good man. I was not a spendthrift like
other men. I never wronged any man of a shilling, though I am i\&
sharp a fellow at a bargain as any in Europe. I never injured a
fellow-creature ; on the contrary, on several occasions, when injured
myself, have shown the most wonderful forbearance. I come of a
tolerably good family ; and yet, born to wealth — of an inoft'ensive
disposition, careful of the money that I had, and eager to get
more, — I have been going down liill ever since my journey of lii'e
began, and have been jjursued by a complication of misfortunes
542 THE FATAL BOOTS
such as siu-ely never happened to any man but the unhappy
Bob Stubbs.
Bob Stubbs is my name ; and I haven't got a shilling : I have
borne the commission of lieutenant in the service of King George,
and am now — but never mind what I am now, for the public will
know in a few pages more. My father was of the Sufiblk Stubbses
— a well-to-do gentleman of Bungay. My grandfather had been a
respected attorney in that town, and left my papa a pretty little
fortime. I was thus the inheritor of competence, and ought to be
at this moment a gentleman.
My misfortunes may be said to have commenced about a year
before my birth, when my papa, a young fellow pretending to study
the law in London, fell madly in love with Miss Smith, the daughter
of a tradesman, who did not give her a sixpence, and afterwards
became bankrupt. My j)apa married this Miss Smith, and carried
her off to the country, whore I was born, in an evil hour for me.
Were I to attempt to describe my early years, you would laugh
at me as an impostor ; but the follo^^•ing letter from mamma to a
friend, after her mariiage, will pretty well show you what a poor
foolish creature she was ; and what a reckless extravagant fellow
was my other unfortiuiate parent : —
To Miss Eliza Kicks, in Gracechurch Street, London.
" Oh, Eliza ! your Susan is the happiest girl under heaven !
My Thomas is an angel ! not a tall grenadier-like looking fellow,
such as I always vowed I would marry : — on the contrary, he is
what the world would call dumj^y, antl I hesitate not to confess
that his eyes have a ca.st in them. But what then ? when one of
his eyes is fixed on me, and one on my babe, they are lighted up
with an aft'ection which my pen cannot describe, and which, cer-
tainly, was never bestowed upon any woman so strongly as upon
your happy Susan Stubbs.
" AVhen he comes home from sliootiiig, or the farm, if you could
see dear Thomas with me and our dear little Bob ! as I sit on one
knee, and baby on the other, and as he dances us both about. I
often wish that we had Sir Joshua, or some great painter, to depict
the group ; for sure it is the prettiest picture in the wliole world, to
see three such loving merry people.
" Dear baby is the most lovely little creature that can possiblij
be — the very image of pajta ; he is cutting his teeth, and the delight
oi everybody. Nurse says that, when he is older, he will get rid of
his squint, and Jiis hair will get a great deal less red. Doctor
Bates is as kind, and skilful, and attentive as we could desire.
73
H
a
o
w
>-s
>
I
THE BIRTH OF THE YEAR 543
Think wliat a blessing to have liad him ! Ever since jjoor l)al)y's
birth, it Jias never had a day ofx[uiet; and lie has been obliged to
give it from three to four doses every week ; — how tliankful ought
we to be that the dear ih.mg is as well as it is ! It got through the
measles wonderfully ; then it had a little rash ; and then a nasty
hooping-cough ; and then a fever, and continual i)ains in its poor
little stomach, crying, poor dear cliild, from morning till nigjit.
"But dear Tom is an excellent nurse; and many and many a
night has he had no sleep, dear man ! in coiis('i|uence of tlu^ ])oor
little baby. He walks uj) and down witli it for hours, singing a
kind of song (dear fellow, he has no more voice than a tea-lccttlc),
and bobbing his head backwards and forwards, and looking, in his
nightcap and dressing-gown, so droll. Oh, Eliza ! how you would
laugh to see him.
" We have one of the best nursemaids in the tvorld, an Irish-
woman, who is as fond of bal;)y almost as his mother (but that can
never be). She takes it to walk in the park for hours together, and
I really don't know why Thomas dislikes her. He says she is tipsy,
very often, and slovenly, which I cannot conceive ; — to be sure, the
nurse is sadly dirty, and sometimes smells very strong of gin.
" But what of that 1 — these little drawbacks only make home
more pleasant. When one thinks how many mothers have no
nursemaids : how many poor dear eliildreu liave no doctors : ought
we not to be thankful for Mary Malowney, and that Doctor Bates's
bill is forty-seven i)ounds'? How ill must dear baby have been, to
require so much physic !
" But they arc a sad expense, these dear babies, after all.
Fancy, Eliza, how much this Mary Malowney costs us. Ten
shillings every week ; a glass of brandy or gin at dinner ; three
pint-bottles of Mr. Thrale's best porter every day — making twenty-
one in a week, and nine hundred and ninety in the eleven months
she has been with us. Then, for baby, there is Doctor Bates's bill
of forty-five guineas, two giuneas for christening, twenty for a grand
christening siipjier and ball (rich Uncle John mortally oft'ended
because he was made godfather, and had to give baby a silver cup :
he has struck Thomas out of his will : and old Mr. Firkin quite as
much hurt because he was 7iot asked : he will not speak to me or
Thomas in consequence) ; twenty guineas for flannels, laces, little
gowns, caps, napkins, and such baby's ware : and all this out of
three hundred pounds a year ! But Tjioraas expects to make <x great
deal by his farm.
" We have got the most charming country-house i/ou can imagine:
it is quite shut in by trees, and so retired that, though only thirty
miles from London, the post comes to us but once a week. The
2 Q
1
544 THE FATAL BOOTS
roads, it must be confessed, are execrable ; it is winter now, and we
are up to our knees in mud and snow. But oh, Eliza ! how happy
we are : with Thomas (he has had a sad attack of rheumatism, dear
man !) and little Bobby, and our kind friend Doctor Bates, who
comes so far to see us, I leave you to fancy that we have a charm-
ing merry party, and do not care for all the ^t^aieties of Ranelagh.
" Adieu ! dear baby is crying for his mamma. A thousand
kisses from your affectionate Susan Stubbs."
There it is ! Doctor's bills, gentleman-fai-ming, twenty-one pints
of porter a w(!ek. In this way my unnatural parents were already
robbing me of my property.
FEBR UAR Y— CUTTING WE A THER
[HAVE called this chapter " cutting weather," partly in compli-
ment to the month of February, and partly in respect of my
own misfortunes, which you are going to read about. For I
have often thought that January (wliich is mostly twelfth-cake and
holiday-time) is like tlie first four or five years of a little boy's life ;
then comes dismal February, and the working-days with it, when
chaps begin to look out for themselves, after the Christmas and the
New Year's heyday and merry-making are over, which our infancy
may well be said to be. Well can I recollect that bitter fij-st of
February, when I first launched out into the world and appeared at
Doctor Swishtail's academy,
I began at school that life of prudence and economy which I
have carried on ever since. My mother gave me eighteenpence on
setting out (poor soul ! I thought her heart would break as she
kissed me, and bade God bless me) ; and, besides, I had a small
capital of my own, which I had amassed for a year previous. I'll
tell you what I used to do. Wlierever I saw six halfpence I took
one. If it was asked for, I said I had taken it, and gave it back ;
— if it was not missed, I said nothing about it, as why should 11 —
those who don't miss their money, don't lose their money. So I had
a little private fortune of three shillings, besides mother's eighteen-
pence. At school they called me the Copper-Merchant, I had such
lots of it.
Now, even at a preparatory school, a well-regulated boy may
better himself; and I can tell you I did. I never was in any quarrels :
I never was very high in the class or very low ; but there was no
chap so much respected : — and why 1 Pd always money. Tho
other boys spent all theirs in the first day or two, and they gava
me plenty of cakes and barley-sugar then, I can tell you. I'd na
need to spend my own money, for they would insist upon treating
me. Well, in a week, when theirs was gone, and they had bu\,
their threepence a week to look to tor the rest of the half-year, what
did I do 1 Why, I am proud to say that three-halfpence out of tha
threepence a week of almost all the young gentlemen at Doctoi
Swishtail's, came into my pocket. Suppose, for instance, Tom
546
THE FATAL BOOTS
First week the 3d.
would be 6d.
Fourth week
Second week
Is.
Fifth week
Third week .
2s.
Sixth week
Hicks wanted a slice of gingerbread, who had the money 1 Little
Bob Stubbs, to be sui-e. "Hicks," I used to say, " 77^ buy you
three-halfp'orth of gingerbread, if you'll give me threepence next
Saturday." And he agreed ; and next Saturday came, and he very
often could not pay me more than three-halfpence. Then there was
the threepence I was to have the next Saturday. I'll tell you what
I did for a whole half-year : I lent a chap, by the name of Dick
Bunting, three-halfpence the fii-st Saturday for threepence the next :
he could not pay me more than half when Saturday came, and I'm
blest if I did not make him pay me three-halfpence /or three-and-
twenty weeks running, making two shillings and tenpence-halfpenny.
But he was a sad dishonoural)le fellow, Dick Bunting ; for, after I'd
been so kind to him, and let him off for three-and-twenty weeks the
money he owed me, holidays came, and threepence he owed me still.
Well, according to the common principles of practice, after six weeks'
holidays, he ought to have paid me exactly sixteen shillings which
was my due. For the
4s.
8s.
16s.
Nothing could be more just ; and yet^will it be believed ] — when
Bimting came liack he ottered me three-halfpence ! the mean dis-
honest scoundi-el.
However, I Avas even with him, I can tell you. — He spent all
his money in a fortnight, and then I screwed him down ! I made
him, besides giving me a penny for a penny, pay me a quarter of
his bread-and-butter at breakfast and a quarter of his cheese at
supper ; and before the half-year was out, I got from him a silver
fruit-knife, a box of comi)asses, and a very pretty silver-laced waist-
coat, in which I went home as proud as a king : and, what's more,
I had no less than three golden guineas in the pocket of it, besides
fifteen shillings, the knife, and a brass bottle-screw, which I got from
another chap. It wasn't bad interest for twelve shillings — which
was all the money I'd had in the year — was it ? Heigho ! I've
often wished that I could get such a chance again in this wicked
world ; but men are more avaricious now than they used to be in
those dear early days.
Well, I went home in my new waistcoat as fine as a peacock ;
and when I gave the bottle-screw to my flither, begging him to take
it as a token of my afflection for him, my dear mother burst into
such a fit of tears as I never saw, and kissed and hugged me fit
to smother me " Bless him, bless him ! " says she, " to think of
a-
so
-1
a
H
H
o
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H
pa
CUTTING WEATHER 547
liis old father. And wlusre did you purchase it, Bob 1 " — " Why,
mother," says I, " I purchased it out of my savings " (which was as
true as the gospel). — When I said this, mother looked round to
father, smiling, altliough she iiad tears in her eyes, and she took
his hand, and with her other hand drew me to her. " Is he not
a noble boy 1 " says she to my father : " and only nine years old ! "
, — " Faith," says my father, "he is a good lad, Susan. Thank thee,
my boy ; and here is a crown-piece in return for thy bottle-screw : —
it shall open us a bottle of the very best too," says my father.
And he kept his word. I always was fond of good wine (though
never, from a motive of proper self-denial, having any in my cellar);
and, by Jupiter ! on this night I had my little skinful, — for there
was no stinting, — so pleased were my dear parents with the bottle-
screw. The best of it was, it only cost me threepence originally,
which a chap could not pay me.
Seeing this game was such a good one, I became very generous
towards my parents ; and a capital way it is to encourage liberality
in children. I gave mamma a very neat brass thimble, and she
gave me a half-guinea piece. Then I gave her a very pretty needle-
book, which I made myself with an ace of spades from a new pack
of cards we had, and I got Sally, our maid, to cover it with a bit
of pink satin her mistress had given her ; and I made the haves
of the book, which I vandyked very nicely, out of a piece of flamiel
I had had round my neck for a sore throat. It smelt a little of
hartshorn, but it was a beautiful needlebook ; and mamma was so
delighted with it, that she went into town and bought me a gold-
laced hat. Then I bought papa a pretty china tobacco-stopper :
but I am sorry to say of my dear father tliat he was not so genei'ous
as my mamma or myself, for he only burst out laughing, and did
not give me so much as a half-crown piece, which was the least I
expected from him. " I shan't give you anything. Bob, this time,
says he ; " and I wish, my boy, you would not make any more such
presents, — for, really, they are too expensive." Expensive indeed !
I hate meanness, — even in a father.
I must tell you about the silver-edged waistcoat which Bunting
gave me. Mamma asked me about it, and I told her the truth,
that it was a present from one of the boys for my kindness to him.
Well, what does she do but writes back to Doctor Swishtail, when
I went to school, thanking him for his attention to her dear son,
and sending a sliilling to the good and gi-ateful little boy who had
given me the waistcoat !
"What waistcoat is it," says the Doctor to me, "and who gave
it to you 1 "
" Bunting gave it me, sir," says I.
548 THE FATAL BOOTS
" Call Biniting ! " And up the little ungrateful chap came.
Would you believe it, he burst into tears, — told that the waistcoat
had been given him by his mother, and that he had been forced
to give it for a debt to Copper-Merchant, as the nasty little black-
guard called me ? He then said how, for three-halfpence, he had
been compelled to ])ay mo three shillings (the sneak ! as if he had
been obliged to borrow the three-halfpence !) — how all the other
boys had been swindled (swindled !) by me in like manner, — and
how, with only twelve shillings. I had managed to scrape together
four guineas. . . .
My courage almost fails me as I describe the shameful scene
that followed. The boys were called in, my own little account-
book was dragged out of my cupboard, to prove how much I had
received from each, and every farthing of my money was jjaid back
to them. The tyrant took the thirty sliillings that my dear parents
had given me, and said he should ])ut them into the poor-box at
church ; and, after having made a long discoiu-se to the boys about
meanness and usury, he said, " Take off your coat, Mr. Stubbs, and
restore Bunting his waistcoat." I did, and stood without coat and
waistcoat in the midst of the nasty grinning boys. I w^as going to
put on my coat, —
" Stop ! " says he. " Take dowk his Breeches ! "
Ruthless brutal villain ! Sam Hopkins, the biggest boy, took
them down — horsed me — and I vhk jJixjaed, sir: yes, flogged! O
revenge ! I, Robert Stubbs, who had done nothing but what was
right, was brutally flogged at ten years of age ! — Though February
was the shortest month, I remembered it long.
MARCH— SHO WER Y
WHEN my mamma heard of tlie treatment of her darling
she was for brniging an action against the schoolmaster,
or else for tearing his eyes out (wlien, dear soul ! she
woidd not have torn the eyes out of a flea, had it been her own
injury), and, at the very least, for having me removed from the
school where I had been so shamefully treated. But i)ai)a was
stern for once, and vowed that I had been served quite right,
declared that I should not be removed from tlie school, and sent
ohl Swishtail a brace of pheasants for wliat he called his kindness
to me. Of these the old gentleman invited me to partake, and
made a very queer speech at dinner, as he was cutting them up,
about the excellence of my i)arents, and his own determination to
be kinder still to me if ever I ventured on such iirnctices again.
So I was obliged to give up my old trade of lending : I'or tlu; Doctor
declared that any boy who borrowed should be flogge(l, and any one
^\\o paid should be flogged twice as nuicli. Tliere was no standing
against such a prohibition as this, and my little conunerce was
ruined.
I was not very high in the school : not having been al)le to
get farther than that dreadful Propria qure maribus in the Latin
grammar, of which, though I have it by heart even now, I never
could understand a syllable : but, on account of my size, my age,
and the prayers of my mother, was allowed to have the pi'ivijege
of the bigger boys, and on holidays to walk about in the town.
Great dandies we were, too, when we thus went out. I i-ecollect
my costume very well : a thunder-and-lightning coat, a white waist-
coat embroidered neatly at tlie i>ockets, a lace ii'ill, a \k\\y of knee-
breeches, and elegant white cotton or silk stockings. This (Hd very
well, but still I was dissatisfied : I wanted a pair of hoots. Tliree
boys in the school had boots — I was mad to have them too.
But my papa, when I wrote to him, would not hear of it ; and
three pounds, the price of a pair, was too large a sum for my
mother to take from the housekeeping, or for me to pay, in the
present im])ovenshed state of my exche(iuer ; l)ut the desire for
the boots was so strong, that have them I must at any j-ate.
550 THE FATAL BOOTS
There was a German bootmaker who had just set up in our
town in those days, who afterwards made his fortime in London.
I determined to have the boots fi'om him, and did not despair,
before the end of a year or two, either to leave the school, when I
should not mind his dunning me, or to screw the money from
mainma, and so pay him.
So I called upon this man — Stiffelkind was his name — and he
took my measure for a pair.
" You are a vary yong gentleman to wear dop-boots," said the
shoemaker.
" I suppose, fellow," saj^s I, " that is my business and not
yours. Either make the boots or not — but when you speak to a
man of my rank, speak respectfully ! " And I poured out a
number of oaths, in order to impress him with a notion of my
respectability.^
They had the desired effect. " Stay, sir," says he. " I have a
nice littel pair of dop-boots dat I tink will jost do for you." And
he produced, sure enough, the most elegant things I ever saw.
" Dey were made," said he, " for de Honourable Mr. Stiffuey, of de
Gards, but were too small."
"Ah, indeed!" said L " Stiffnoy is a relation of mine. And
what, you scoundrel, will you have the imj)udence to ask for these
things ? " He replied, " Three pounds."
"Well," said I, "they are confoundedly dear; but, as you will
have a long time to wait for your money, why, I shall have my
revenge, you see." The man looked alarmed, and began a speech :
" Sare, — I cannot let dem go vidout " but a bright thought
struck me, and I interrupted — " Sir ! don't sir me. Take oft' the
boots, fellow, and, hark ye, when you speak to a nobleman, don't
say Sir."
"A hundert tousand pardons, my Lort," says he: "if I had
known you wore a lort, I vood never have called you Sir. Vat
nnnie shall I i)ut down in my books % "
" Name? — Oh ! why, Lord Cornwallis, to be sure," said I, as I
walked off in the boots.
" And vat shall I do vid my Lort's shoes ? "
" Keep them until I send for them," said I. And giving him a
patronising bow, I walked out of the shop, as the German tied up
my shoes in paper.
• • • • • • •
This story I would not have told, but that my whole life turned
upon these accursed boots. I walked back to school as proud as a
peacock, and easily succeeded in satisfying the boys as to the
manner in which I came by my new ornaments.
s.
>■
58
a
a
I
a
o
«1
SHOWERY 551
Well, one fatal Monday morning — the blackest of all black
Mondays that ever I knew— as we were all of us playing between
school-hours, I saw a ]iosse of boys round a stranger, who seemed to
be looking out for one of us. A sudden trembling seized me — I
knew it was Stiffelkind. What had brought him here 1 He talked
loud and seemed angry. So I rushed into tlie sdioolroom, and,
burying my head between my hands, began reading for dear life.
" I vant Lort Cornvallis," said the horrid bootmaker. " His
Lortship belongs, I know, to dis honourable school, for I saw iiim
yid de boys at cliorch yesterday."
" Lord who '? "
"Vy, Lort Cornvallis to be sure — a very fat yong nobleman,
vid red hair : he scjuints a little, and svears dreadfully."
" There's no Lord CoruvalUs here," said one ; and there was
a pause.
" Stop ! I have it," says that odious Bunting. " It must be
Stubbs ! " And " Stubbs ! Stubbs ! " every one cried out, while I
was so busy at my l)ook as not to hear a word.
At last, two of the biggest chaps rushed into the schoolroom,
and, seizing each an arm, ran me into the playground — bolt up
against the shoemaker.
" Dis is my man. I beg your Lortship's jiardon," says he, " I
have brought your Lortship's shoes, vich you left. See, dey have
been in dis parcel ever since you vent avay in my boots."
" Shoes, fellow ! " says I. "I never saw your fiice before."
For I knew there was nothing for it l)ut brazening it out. " Upon
the honour of a gentleman ! " said I, turning round to the boys.
They hesitated ; and if the trick had turned in my favour, fifty of
them would have seized hold of Stitfelkind and drubbed him soundly.
"Stop!" says Bunting (hang him!). "Let's see the shoes.
If they fit him, why then the cobbler's right." They did fit me ;
and not only tliat, but the name of Stubbs was written in them at
full length.
"Vat!" said Stiffelkind. "Is he not a lort? So help me
Himmel, I never did vonce tink of looking at de shoes, which have
been lying ever since in dis piece of brown paper." And then,
gathering anger as he went on, he thundered out so mucli of his
abuse of me, in his German-English, that the boys roared with
laughter. Swishtail came out in the midst of the disturbance, and
asked what the noise meant.
"It's only Lord Cornwallis, sir," said the boys, "battling with
his shoemaker about the price of a pair of top-boots."
"Oh, sir," said I, "it was only in fun that I called myself
Lord Cornwallis."
552 THE FATAL BOOTS
" In fun ! — Where are the boots 1 And you, sir, give me yoirr
bill." My beautiful boots were brought ; and Stiffelkind produced
his bill. "Lord Comwallis to Samuel Stiffelkind, for a pair of
boots — four guineas."
" You have been fool enough, sir," says the Doctor, looking very
stem, " to let this boy impose on you as a lord ; and knave enough
to charge him double the value of the article you sold him. Take
back the boots, sir ! I won't pay a penny of your bill ; nor can
you get a penny. As for you, sir, you miserable swindler and cheat,
I shall not flog you a.s I did before, but I shall send you home : you
are not fit to be the companion of honest boys."
" Suppose tve duck him before he goes ? " piped out a very small
voice. The Doctor grinned significantly, and left the playground ;
and the boys knew by this they might have their will. They seized
Ine and carried me to the playground pump : they pumped upon me
until I was half dead ; and the monster. Stiffelkind, stood looking
on for the half-hour the operation lasted.
I suppose the Doctor, at last, thought I had had pumping
enough, for he rang the school-bell, and the boys were obliged to
leave me. As I got out of the trough, Stiff"elkind was alone with
me. " Yell, my Lort," says he, " you have paid somethinrj for desc
boots, but not all. By Jubider, you sh/ill never hear de end of
dem." And I didn't.
APRIL—FOOLING
AFTER this, as you may fancy, I left this dLsgusting establish-
ment, and lived for some time along with pa and mamma at
' home. My education was finished, at least mamma and I
agreed that it was ; and from boyhood until hobbadyhoyliood (which
I take to be about the sixteenth year of the life of a young man,
and may be likened to the month of April when spring begins to
bloom) — from fourteen imtil seventeen, I say, I remained at home,
doing nothing — for which I have ever since had a great taste^the
idol of my mamma, who took part in all my quarrels with father,
and used regularly to rob the weekly expenses in order to find me
in pocket-money. Poor soid ! many and many is the guinea I have
had from her in that 'way; and so she enabled me to cut a very
pretty figure.
Papa was for having me at this time articled to a merchant, or
put to some jjrofession : but mamma and I agreed that I was born
to be a gentleman and not a tradesman, and the army wa.s the only
place for me. Everybody was a soldier in those times, for the
French war had just begun, and the whole country was swarming
with militia regiments. " We'll get him a commission in a marching
regiment," said my father. "As we have no money to purchase
him up, he'll fifjht his way, I make no doubt." And pa[)a looked
at me with a kind of air of contempt, as much as to say he doubted
whether I should be very eager for such a dangerous way of better-
ing myself.
I wish you could have heard mamma's screech when he talked
so coolly of my going out to fight ! " What, send him abroad,
across the horrid, horrid sea — to be wrecked and perhaps drowned,
and only to laud for the purpose of fighting the wicked Frenchmen,
— to be wounded and perhaps kick — kick — killed ! Oh, Thomas,
Thomas ! woidd you murder me and yom- boy ? " There was a
regular scene. However, it ended — as it always did — in mother's
getting the better, and it was settled that I should go into the
militia. And why not ? The imiform is just as handsome, and
the danger not half so great. I don't think in the course of my
whole military experience I ever fought anything, except an old
554 THE FATAL BOOTS
woman, who had the impudence to hollo out, " Heads up, lobster ! "
— Well, I joined the North Bungays, and was fairly launched into
the world.
I was not a handsome man, I know ; but there was something
about me — that's very evident — for the girls always laughed when
they talked to me, and the men, though they affected to call me a
poor little creature, squint-eyes, knock-knees, red-head, and so on,
were evidently annoyed by my success, for they hated me so con-
foundedly. Even at the present time they go on, though I have
given up gallivanting, as I call it. But in the April of my existence,
— that is, in anno Domini 1791, or so — it was a different case;,
and having nothing else to do, and being bent upon bettering my
condition, I did some very pretty things in that way. But I was
not hot-headed and imprudent, like most young fellows. Don't
fancy I looked for beauty ! Pish ! — I wasn't such a fool. Nor for
temper ; I don't care about a bad temper : I could break any woman's
heart in two years. What I wanted was to get on in the world.
Of course I didn't iirefer an ugly woman, or a shrew; and when
the choice offered, would certainly put up with a handsome good-
humom-ed girl, with plenty of money, as any^ honest man would.
Now there were two tolerably rich girls in oiu* parts : Miss
Magdalen Crutty, with twelve thousand pounds (and, to do her
justice, as plain a girl as ever I saw), and ]\Iiss Mary Waters, a fine,
tall, plump, smiling, peacli-cheeked, golden-haired, white-skinned
lass, with only ten. Mary Waters lived with her uncle, the Doctor,
who had helped mc into the world, and who was trusted with this
little orphan charge very soon after. My mother, as you have
heard, was so fond of Bates, and Bates so fond of little Mary, that
both, at first, were almost always in our house ; and I used to call
her my little wife as soon as I could s])oak, and before she could
walk almost. It was beautiful to see us, the neiglibours said.
Well, when her brother, tlie lieutenant of an India ship, came
to be ca])tain, and actually gave Mary five thousand pounds when
she Avas about ten years old, and promised her five thousand more,
thei'e Avas a gi'eat talking, and bobbing, and smiling between the
Doctor and my parents, and Mary and I were left together more
than ever, and she was told to call me her little husband. And she
did ; and it was considered a settled thing from that day. She was
really amazingly fond of me.
Can any one call me mercenary after that ? Though Miss Crutty
had twelve thousand, and Mary only ten (five in liand, and five in
the bush), I stuck faithfully to Mary. As a matter of course. Miss
Crutty hated Miss Waters. The fact was, Mary had all the country
dangling after her, and not a soul would come to Magdalen, for all
O
o
FOOLING 555
her twelve thousand pounds. I used to be attentive to her though
(as it's always useful to be) ; and Mary would sometimes laugh and
sometimes cry at my flirting with Magdalen. This I thought
proper very quickly to cheek. "Mary," said I, "you know that
my love for you is disinterested, — for I am faithful to you, though
Miss Crutty is richer than you. Don't fly into a rage, then, because
I pay her attentions, when you know that my heart and my promise
are engaged to you."
The fact is, to tell a little bit of a secret, there is nothing like
the having two strings to your bow. " Who knows ? " thought I.
" Mary may die : and then where are my ten thousand pounds 1 "
So I used to be very kind indeed to Miss Crutty ; and well it was
that I was so : for when I was twenty and Mary eighteen, I'm blest
if news did not arrive that Captain Waters, who was coming home
to England with all his money in rupees, had been taken — ship,
rupees, self and all — by a French privateer ; and Mary, instead of
ten thousand pounds, had only five thousand, making a difference
of no less than three hundred and fifty pounds per annum betwixt
her and Miss Crutty.
I had just joined my regiment (the famous North Bungay
Fencibles, Colonel Craw commanding) wjien this news reached me ;
and you may fancy how a young man, in an expensive regiment and
mess, having uniforms and what not to pay for, and a figure to cut
in the world, felt at hearing such news ! " My dearest Robert,"
wrote Miss Waters, "will deplore my dear brother's loss: but not,
I am sure, the money which that kind and generous soul had
promised me. I have still five thousand pounds, and with this and
your own little fortune (I had one thousand pounds in the Five per
Cents.) we shall be as happy and contented as possible."
Happy and contented indeed ! Didn't I know how my father
got on with his three hundred pounds a year, and how it was all he
could do out of it to add a hundred a year to my narrow income,
and live himself? My mind was made up. I instantly mounted
the coach and flew to our village, — to Mr. Crutty's, of coiu-se. It
was next door to Doctor Bates's ; but I had no business there.
I found Magdalen in the • garden. " Heavens, Mr. Stubbs ! "
said she, as in my new uniform I appeared before her, " I really
did never — such a handsome oflicer — expect to see you." And she
made as if she would blush, and began to tremble violently. I led
her to a garden-seat. I seized her hand — it was not withdrawn.
I pressed it ■ — I thought the pressure was returned. I flung myself
on my knees, and then I poured into her ear a little speech which I
had made on the top of the coach. " Divine Miss Crutty," said I ;
" idol of my soul ! It was but to catch one glimpse of you that I
556 THE FATAL BOOTS
passed throu,ti;h this garden. I never intended to breathe the secret
passion " (oh no ; of course not) " which was wearing ray life away.
You know ray unfortunate pre-eugageraent — it is broken, and for
ever I I am free ; — free, but to be your slave, — your hurablest,
fondest, truest slave ! " And so on. . . .
" Oh, Mr. Stubbs," said she, as I imprinted a kiss upon her
cheek, " I can't refuse you ; but I fear you are a sad naughty
raan. ..."
Absorbed in the delicious reverie which was caused by the dear
creature's confusion, we were both silent for a while, and should
have remained so for hours perhaps, so lost Avere we in happiness,
had I not been suddenly roused by a voice exclaiming from behind
us —
" Bovbt cry, Mary ! He is a swindling sneaking scoundrel,
and you are tvell rid of him ! "
I turned round. Heaven, there stood Mary, weeping on
Doctor Bates's arm, while that miserable apothecary was looking at
me with the utmost scorn. The gardener, who had let rae in, had
told them of my arrival, and now stood grinning behind them.
" Imperence ! " was my Magdalen's only exclamation, as she flounced
by with the utmost self-possession, while I, glancing daggers at
the sjries, followed her. We retired to the parlour, where she re-
peated to me the strongest assurances of her love.
I thought I was a made man. Alas ! I was only an April
Fool!
MAY— RESTORATION DAY
AS the montli of May is considered, by poets and other philo-
sophers, to be devoted by nature to tlie great purpose of
^ love-making, I may as well take advantage of tluit season
and acquaint you with the result of my amours.
Young, gay, fascinating, and an ensign — I had completely won
the heart of my Magdalen ; and as for Miss Waters and her nasty
uncle the Doctor, there was a complete split between us, as you
may fancy ; Miss pretending, forsooth, that she was glad I liad
broken off the match, though she woidd have given her eyes, the
little minx, to have had it on again. But this was out of the
question. My father, who liad all sorts of queer notions, said I had
acted like a rascal in the business ; my mother took my ])art, of
course, and de(;hired I acted rightly, as I always did : and I got
leave of absence from the regiment in order to press my beloved
Magdalen to marry me out of liand — knowing, from reading and
experience, the extraordinary nHita.l)ility of hum:in affairs.
Besides, as the dear girl was seventeen years older than myself,
and as bad in health as she was in temper, how was I to know
that the grim king of terrors might not carry her off befbi-e she
became mine 1 With the tenderest warmth, then, and most delicate
ardour, I continued to press my suit. The hai)i)y day was fixed —
the ever-memorable 10th of May 1792. The wedding-clothes were
ordered; and, to make things secure, I piiinied a little paragra]ih
for the county paper to this effect: "Marriiige in High Life. Wo
understand that Ensign Stubbs, of the North Bxuigay Fencibles,
and son of Thomas Stubbs, of Sloffenisquiggle, Esquire, is about fo
lead to the hymeneal altar the lovely and accomplished daughter of
Solomon Crutty, Esquire, of the same place. A fortune of twenty
thousand pounds is, we hear, the lady's ptjrtion. ' None but the
brave deserve the fair.'
" Have you informed your relatives, my beloved ? " said I to
Magdalen one day after sending the above notice ; " will any of
them attend at your marriage % "
558 THE FATAL BOOTS
" Uncle Sam will, I dare say," said Miss Crutty, " dear mamma's
brother."
" And who was your dear mamma?" said I : for Miss Crntty's
respected parent had been long since dead, and I never heard her
name mentioned in the family.
Magdalen blushed, and cast down her eyes to the ground.
"Mamma was a foreigner," at last she said.
" And of what country ] "
" A German. Papa married her when she was very young : —
she was not of a very good family," said Miss Crutty, hesitating.
" And what care I for family, my love ! " said I, tenderly kissing
the knuckles of the hand which I held. " She must have been an
angel who gave birth to you."
" She was a shoemaker's daughter."
" A Geriium shoemaker ! Hang 'em ! " thought I, " I have had
enough of them ; " and so broke up this conversation, which did not
somehow please me.
• ••••••
Well, the day wjis drawing near : the clothes were ordered ;
the banns were read. My dear mamma had built a cake about the
size of a washing-tub ; and I was only waiting for a week to pass
to put me in possession of twelve thousand pounds in the Five per
(-cuts., as they were in those days, Heaven bless 'em. Little did I
know the storm that was brewing, and the disapi>ointment which
was to fall upon a young man who really did his best to get a
fortune.
• ••••••
" Oh, Robert ! " said my Magdalen to me, two days before tlie
match was to come off, " I have such a kind letter from Uncle Sam
in London. I wrote to him as you wished. He says that he is
coming down to-morrow ; that he litis liearil of you often, and knows
your character very weU ; and that he has got a very handsome
jiresent for us ! What can it be, I wonder ? "
" Is he rich, my soul's adored ? " says L
" He is a bachelor, with a fine trade, and nobody to leave his
money to."
" His present can't be less than a thousand pounds ? " says I.
" Or, perliajis, a silver tea-set, and some corner-dishes," says she.
But we could not agree to this : it was too little — too mean for
a man of her uncle's wealth ; and we both determined it must be
the thousand pounds.
" Dear good uncle ! he's to be liere by the coach," says Magdalen.
" Let us ask a little party to meet him." And so we did, and so
EESTORATION DAY 559
they came : my father and mother, old Crutty in his best wig, ^and
the parson who was to marry us the next day. The coach wa's to
come in at six. And there was the tea-table, and there was tlie
punch-bowl, and everybody ready and smiling to receive our dear
imcle from London.
Six o'clock came, and the coach, and the man from tlie " Green
Dragon" with a portmanteau, and a fat old gentleman walking
behind, of whom I just caught a glimpse — a venerable old gentle-
man : I thought I'd seen liim before.
....
Then there was a ring at the bell ; then a scuffling and bumping
in the passage ; then old Crutty rushed out, and a great laughing
and talking, and "How are youT' and so on, was heard at the
dt)or ; and then the parlour-door was flung open, and Crutty cried
out with a loud voice —
" Good people all ! my brother-in-law, Mr. Stiffelkini> ! "
Mr. Stiffelkind I — I trembled as I heard the name !
Miss Crutty kissed him ; mamma made him a ciu-tsey, and
papa made him a bow ; and Doctor Snorter, the parson, seized his
hand, and shook it most warmly : then came my turn !
" Vat ! " says he. " It is my dear goot yong frend from
Doctor Schvischentail's ! is dis de yong gentleman's honorable
moder " (mamma smiled and made a curtsey), " and dis his ladcr ?
Sare and madam, you should be broud of soch a sonn. And you
my niece, if you have him for a husband you vill be locky, dat is
all. Vat dink you, broder Croty, and Madame Stobbs, I 'ave made
your sonn's boots ! Ha — ha ! "
My mamma laughed, and said, " I did not know it, but I am
sure, sir, he has as pretty a leg for a boot as any in the whole
county."
Old Stiffelkind roared louder. " A very nice leg, ma'am, and a
very sheap boot too. Vat ! did you not know I make his boots 1
Perhaps you did not know something else too — p'raps you did not
know " (and here the monster clapped his hand on the table and
made the punch-ladle tremble in the bowl) — "p'raps you did not
know as dat yong man, dat Stobbs, that sneaking, baltry, squinting
fellow, is as vicked as he is ogly. He bot a pair of boots from me
and never paid for dem. Dat is noting, nobody never j)ays ; but
he bought a pair of boots, and called himself Lord Coruvallis. And
I was fool enough to believe him vdnce. But look you, niece
Magdalen, I 'ave got five tousand pounds : if you marry him I
vill not give you a benny. But look you what I will gif you : I
bromised you a bresent, and I will give you dese ! "
560 THE FATAL BOOTS
And the old monster produced those very boots which Swish-
tail had made him take back.
• ••••■•
I didnH marry Miss Cnitty : I am not sorry for it though.
She was a nasty, ugly, ill-tempered wretch, and I've always said
so ever since.
And all this arose from those infernal boots, and that unlucky
paragraph in the county paper — I'll tell you how.
In the first place, it was taken up as a quiz by one of the
wicked, profligate, unprincipled organs of the London press, who
chose to be very facetious about the " Mamage in High Life," and
made all sorts of jokes about me and my dear Miss Crutty.
Secondly, it was read in tliis Loudon pajjcr I)y my mortal enemy.
Bunting, who had been introduced to old Stiffelkind's acquaintance
by my adventure with him, and had his shoes made regularly by
that foreign upstart.
Thirdly, he happened to wai't a pair of shoes made at this
particidar period, and as he was measured by the disgusting old
High-Dutch cobbler, he told him his old friend Stubbs was going
to be married.
"And to whom?" said old Stift'elkind. "To a voman wit
geld, I vill take my oath."
" Yes," says Bunting, " a country girl — a Miss Magdalen Carotty
or Crotty, at a place called Sloftemsquiggle."
" Schloffemschvnegel ! " bursts out the dreadful bootmaker.
" Mein Gott, moin Gott ! das geht nicht ! I tell you, sare, it is
no go. Miss Crotty is my niece. I vill go down myself I vUl
never let her marry dat goot-for-nothing sch windier and tief " >Suck
was the language that the scoundrel ventured to use regarding me !
JUNE— MARROWBONES AND CLEAVERS
WAS there ever such confounded ill-hick'? My whole life
has been a tissue of ill-luck : although I have laboured
perhaps harder than any man to make a fortune, some-
thing always tumbled it down. In love and in war I was not
like others. In my marriages, I had an eye to the main chance ;
and you see how some unlucky blow would come and throw them
over. In the army I was just as j^rudent, and just as unfortunate.
What with judicious betting, and horse-swaj)ping, good luck at
Ijilliards, and economy, I do believe I put up my pay every year, —
and that is what few can say who have but an allowance of a
hundred a year.
I'll tell you how it was. I used to be very kind to the young
men : I chose their horses for them, and their wine ; and showed
them how to play billiards, or dcarte, of long mornings, when there
was nothing better to do. I didn't cheat : I'd rather die than
cheat ; — but if fellows tvill play, I Avasn't the man to say no — why
should I ? There was one young chap in our regiment off whom I
really think I cleared three hundred a year.
His name was I)ob])le. He was a tailor's son, and wanted to
be a gentleman. A poor weak young creature ; easy to be made
tipsy ; easy to be cheated ; and easy to be frightened. It was a
blessing for him that I found him ; for if anybody else had, they
would have plucked him of every shilling.
Ensign Dobble and I were sworn friends. I rode his horses for
him, and chose his chami)agne, and did everything, in fact, that
a superior mind does for an inferior, — when the inferior has got the
money. We were inseparables, — hunting everywhere in couples.
We even managed to fall in love with two sisters, as young soldiers
will do, you know ; for the dogs fall in love with every change of
quarters.
Well, once, in the year 1793 (it was just when the French had
cho]3])ed poor Louis's head off), Dobble and I, gay young chaps as
ever wore sword by side, had cast our eyes upon two young ladies
by the name of Brisket, daughters of a butcher in the town where
we were quartered. The dear girls fell in love with us, of course.
562 THE FATAL BOOTS
And many a pleasant walk in the country, many a treat to a tea-
garden, many a smart riband and brooch used Dobble and I (for
his father allowed him six hundred pounds, and our purses were in
common) to i)resent to these young ladies. One day, fancy our
pleasure at receiving a note couched thus : —
" Deer Capting Stubbs and Dobble, — Miss Briskets presents
their compliments, and as it is probble that our pai)a will be till
twelve at the coi-prayshun dinner, we request the pleasure of their
company to tea."
Didn't we go ! Punctually at six we were in the little back-
parlour ; we quaffed more Bohea, and made more love than half-a-
dozen ordinary men could. At nine, a little punch-bowl succeeded
to the little teapot ; and, bless the girls ! a nice fresh steak was
frizzling on tlie gridiron for our sujjpor. Butchere were butchers
then, and their parlour was their kitchen too ; at least old Brisket's
was — one door leading into the shop, and one into the yard, on the
other side of which was the slaughter-house.
Fancy, then, our horror when, just at this critical time, we
heard the shop-door open, a heavy staggering step on the flags, and
aloud husky voice from the simp, shi)\iting, "Hallo, Susan; hallo,
Betsy! show a light!" Dobble turned as white as a sheet; the
two girls each as red as a lobster ; I alone preserved my presence of
mind. "The back-door," says I. — "The dog's in the court," say
they. " He's not so bad as the man," said I. " Stop ! " cries
Susan, flinging open the door and rushing to the Are. "Take this,
and perhaps it will quiet him."
What do you think "this" was? Fm blest if it was not
the steak !
She pushed us out, patted and hushed the dog, and was in again
in a minute. The moon was shining on the court, and on the
slaughter-house, where there hung the wliitc ghastly looking carcasses
of a couple of sheep ; a great gutter ran down the court — a gutter
of blood ! The dog was devouring his beef-steak {our beef-steak) in
silence ; and we could see through the little window the girls bustling
about to pack up the supper-things, aiid presently the shoj)-door
being opened, old Brisket entering, staggering, angry, and drunk.
What's more, we could see, perched on a high stool, and nodding
politely, as if to salute old Brisket, the feather of Dohhh's cocked
hat ! When Doblilc saw it, he turned white, and deadly sick ; and
the poor fellow, in an agony of fright, sank shivering down upon
one of the butcher's cutting-blocks, which was in the yard.
We saw old Brisket look steadily (as steadily as he could) at
MARROWBONES AND CLEAVERS 563
the confounded, imi)U(lent, pert, wasijiing feather ; and then an idea
began to dawn upon his mind, tliat there was a head to the hat ;
and then he slowly rose up — he was a man of six feet, and fifteen
stone— he rose up, put on his apron and sleeves, and took down his
cleaver.
Betsy," says he, "open the yard door." But the poor girls
screamed, and flung on their knees, and begged, and wept, and did
their very best to prevent him. " Open thk Yard Door ! " says
he, with a thundering loud voice ; and the great bidhhjg, hearing it,
started up and uttered a yell which sent me flying to the other end
of the court. — Dobble couldn't move; he was sitting on the block,
blubbering like a baby.
The door opened, and out Mr. Brisket came.
" To him, Jowler ! " says lie. " Keep him, Joivlerl "■ — and the
horrid dog flew at me, and I flew back into the corner, and drew
my sword, determining to sell my life dearly.
" That's it," says Brisket. " Keep liim there, — good dog, —
good dog ! And now, sir," says he, turning round to Dobble, " is
this your hat 1 "
" Yes," says Dobble, fit to choke with fright.
" Well, then," says Brisket, " it's my — (hie) — my painful duty
to — (hie) — to tell you, that as I've got your hat, I must have your
head ; — it's painful, but it must be done. You'd better — (hie) —
settle yourself com — comfumarably against that — (hie) — that block,
and I'll chop it off" before you can say Jack — (hie) — no, I mean
Jack Robinson."
Dobble went down on his knees and shrieked out, " I'm an only
son, Mr. Brisket ! I'll marry her, sir ; I will, upon my honour,
sir. — Consider my mother, sir ; consider my mother."
" That's it, sir," says Brisket — " that's a good — (hie) — a good
boy ; — just put your head down quietly — and I'll have it ofi" — yes,
off" — as if you were Louis the Six — the Sixtix — the Siktickleteenth.
— I'll chop the other chaj-^ afferwards."
When I heard this, I made a sudden bound back, and gave such
a cry as any man might who was in such a way. The ferocious
Jowler, thinking I was going to escape, flew at my throat ;
screaming furious ; I flung out my arms in a kind of desperation,
— and, to my wonder, down fell the dog, dead, and run through
the body !
At this moment a posse of people rushed in upon old Brisket, —
one of his daughters had had the sense to summon them, — and
Dobble's head was saved. And when they saw the dog lying dead
at my feet, my ghastly look, my bloody sword, they gave me no
564 THE FATAL BOOTS
small credit for my bravery. "A terrible fellow that Stubbs," said
they ; and so the mess said, the next day.
I didn't tell them that the dog had committed suicide — wliy
shoidd I ? Anil I didn't say a word about Cobble's cowardice. I
said he was a brave fellow, and fought Like a tiger ; and' this pre-
vented him from telling tales. I had the dogskin made into a i)air
of pistol-holsters, and looked so fierce, and got such a name for
courage in our regiment, tliat when we had to meet the regidars.
Bob Stubbs was always the man put forward to support the lionour
of the corps. The women, you know, adore courage ; and such was
my reputation at tiiis time, tluit I might have had my i)ick out of
half-a-dozen, with three, foiu-, or five thousand pounds apiece, who
M'ci-e dying for love of me and my red coat. But I wasn't such a
fool. I had been t^^•ice on the jwint of marriage, and twice dis-
ajjpointed ; and I vowed by all the Saints to liave a wife, and a
rich one. Depend upon this, as an infallible maxim to guide you
through life : Ifs as easy to get a rich icife as a j^oor one ; — the
same bait tliat will hook a trout will hook a salmon.
JULY— SUMMARY PROCEEDINGS
DOBBLE'S reputation for courage was uot increased by the
butcher's-dog adventure ; but mine stood very high : Httle
Stubbs was voted the boldest chap of all the bold North
Bungays. And though I must confess, what was proved by subse-
quent circumstances, that nature has not endowed me with a large,
or even, I may say, an average share of bravery, yet a man is very
willing to flatter himself to the contrary ; and, after a little time, I
got to believe that my killing the dog was an action of undaunted
courage, and that I was as gallant as any of the one hundred thousand
heroes of our army. I always had a military taste — it's only the
brutal part of the profession, the horrid fighting and blood, that I
don't like.
I suppose the regiment was not very brave itself — being only
militia; but certain it was, that Stubbs was considered a most
terrible felk)w, and I swore so nuieli, and looked so fierce, that you
would have fancied I had made half a hundred campaigns. I was
second in several duels : the umpire in all disputes ; and such a crack
shot myself, that fellows were shy of insulting me. As for Dobble,
I took him under my protection ; and he became so attached to me,
that we ate, drank, and rode together every day ; his father didn't
care for money, so long as his son was in good company — and what
so good as that of the celebrated Stubbs 1 Heigho ! I ^vas good
company in those days, and a brave fellow too, as I should have
remained, but for — what I shtdl tell the public immediately.
It happened, in the fatal year ninety-six, that the brave North
Bungays were quartered at Portsmouth, a maritime place, which I
need not describe, and which I wish I had never seen. I might
have been a General now, or, at least, a rich man.
The red-coats carried everything before them in those days ; and
I, such a crack character as I was in my regiment, was very well
received by the townspeople : many dinners I had ; many tea-parties ;
many lovely young ladies did I lead down the pleasant country-
dances.
Well, although I had had the two former rebuli's in love whicli
I have described, my heart was still young ; and the fact was, know-
•2s
566 THE FATAL BOOTS
ing that a girl witli a fortune was my only chance, I made love here
as furiously as ever. I shan't describe the lovely creatures on whom
I fixed, whilst at Portsmouth. I tried more than — several — and it
is a singular fact, which I never have been able to account for, that,
successful as I was with ladies of maturer age, by the yoimg ones I
was refused regular.
But " faint heart never won fair lady ; " and so I went on, and
on, until I liad got a Miss Clopper, a tolerably rich navy-contractor's
daughter, into such a way, that I really don't think she could have
refused me. Her brother, Cajjtain Clopper, was in a line regiment,
and helped me as much as ever he could ; he swore I was such a
brave fellow.
As I had received a number of attentions from Clopper, I
determined to invite liim to dinner ; which I could do without any
sacrifice of my i)rinciple upon this point : for tlie fact is, Dobble
lived at an inn, and as he sent all liis bills to his fiitber, I made no
scruple to use his table. We dined in tlie cofiee-room, Dobble bring-
ing his friend ; and so we made a party carry, as the French say.
Some naval otficers were occupied in a similar way at a table next
to ours.
. Well — I didn't spare the bottle, either for myself or for my
friends ; and we gi-ew very talkative, and very affectionate as tlie
drinking went on. Each man told stories of liis gaUantry in the
field, or amongst the ladies, as officers will, after dinner. Clopper
confided to the comi>any his wisli tliat I should marry his sister, and
vowed that he tliouglit me the best fellow in Cliristeudom.
Ensign Dolible assented to this. " But let Miss Clopper beware,"
says he, " for Stubbs is a sad fellow : he has had I don't know how
many liaisons already ; and he has been engaged to I don't know
how many women."
" Indeed ! " says Clopper. " Come, Stubbs, tell us your ad-
ventures."
" Psha ! " said I modestly, " there is nothing indeed to tell. I
have been in love, my dear boy — who has not ? — and I have l)een
jilted — who has not 1 "
Clopi)er swore that he would blow his sister's brains out if ever
she served me so.
" Tell him about Miss Crutty," said Dobble. " He ! he ! Stubbs
served that woman out, anyhow ; she didn't jilt him, I'll be sworn."
" Really, Doljble, you are too bad, and should not mention names.
The fact is, the girl was desperately in love with me, and had money
— sixty thousand pounds, upon my reputation. Well, everything was
arranged, when who should come down from London but a relation."
" Well, and did he prevent the match 1 "
SUMMARY PROCEEDINGS 567
"Prevent it — yes, sir, I believe you he did; thongh nnt in the
sense that you mean. He would have given his eyes — ay, and ten
thousand pounds more — if I would have accepted the girl, but I
would not."
" Why, in the name of goodness ? "
" Sir, her uncle was a shoemaker. I never would debase myself
by marrying into such a family."
" Of course not," said Dobble ; " he couldn't, you know. Well,
now — tell him about the other girl, Mary Waters, you know."
" Hush, Dobble, hush ! don't you see one of those naval officers
has turned round and heard you 1 My dear Clopper, it was a mere
childish bagatelle."
" Well, but let's have it," said Clopper—" let's have it. I won't
tell my sister, you know." And he put his hand to his nose and
looked monstrous wise.
" Nothing of that sort, Clopper^no, no — 'pon honour — little
Bob Stubbs is no libertine ; anfl*the story is very simple. You see
that my father has a small place, merely a few hundred acres, at
Sloffenisquiggle. Isn't it a funny name 1 Hang it, there's the naval
gentleman staring again " — (I looked terribly fierce as I returned
this officer's stare, and continued in a loud careless voice). " Well,
at this Sloffenisquiggle there lived a girl, a Miss Waters, the niece
of some blackguard apothecary in the neighbourhood ; but my mother
took a fancy to the girl, and had her up to the park and petted her.
We were both young — and — and — the girl fell in love with me,
that's the fact. I was obliged to rejjel some rather warm advances
that she made me ; and here, upon my honour as a gentleman, you
have all the story about which that silly Dobble makes such a noise."
Just as I finished this sentence, I found myself suddenly taken
by the nose, and a voice shouting out, —
" Mr. Stubbs, you are a Liar and a Scoundrel ! Take this,
sir, — and this, for daring to meddle with the name of an innocent
lady."
I turned round as well as I could— for the ruffian had j)ulled me
out of my chair — and beheld a great marine monster, six feet high,
who was occupied in beating and kicking me, in the most ungentle-
manly manner, on my cheeks, my ribs, and between the tails of my
coat. " He is a liar, gentlemen, and a scoundrel ! The bootmaker
had detected him in swindling, and so his niece refused him. Miss
Waters was engaged to him from childhood, and he deserted her for
the bootmaker's niece, who was richer."— And then sticking a card
between my stock and my coat-collar, in what is called the scrutf
of my neck, the disgusting brute gave me another blow behind my
back, and left the coffee-room with his friends
568 THE FATAL BOOTS
Dobble raised me up ; and taking the card from my neck, read,
Captain Waters. Clopper poiu-ed me out a glass of water, and
said in my ear, " If this is true, you are an infernal s(;oundrel,
Stubbs ; and must fight me, after Captain Waters ; " and he flounced
out of the room.
I had but one course to pursue. I sent the Captain a short
and contemptuous note, saying that he was beneath niy anger. As
for Clopper, I did not condescend to notice his remark ; but in order
to get rid of the troublesome society of these low blackguards, I
determined to gratify an inclination I hiu\ long entertained, and
make a little tour. I ajtplied for leave of absence, and set off that
very night. I can fancy the disappointment of the brutal Waters,
on coming, as he did, the next morning to my quarters and finding
me gone. Ha ! ha !
After this adventure I bt-came sick of a military life — at least
the life of my own regiment, where the officers, such was their
unac(;ountable meanness and prejudife against me, absolutely refused
to see mc at mess. Colonel Craw «ent me a lett»'r to this efi'ect,
which I treated as it deserved. — I never once alluded to it in any
way, and have since never spoken a single word to any man in the
North Bungays.
AUGUST— DOGS HAVE THEIR DAYS
SEE, now, what life is ! I have had ill-kxck on ill-hick from
that day to this. I have sunk in the world, and, instead of
riding my horse and drinking my wine, as a real gentleman
shoidd, have hardly enough now to buy a pint of ale ; ay, and am
very glad when anybody will treat me to one. Why, why was I
bom to undergo such unmerited misfortunes ?
You must know that very soon after my adventure with Miss
Crutty, and that cowardly ruttian, Ca})tain Waters (he sailed tlie
day after his insult to me, or I should most certainly have blown
his brains out ; nov: he is living in England, and is my relation ;
but, of course, I cut the fellow) — very soon after these painful events
another happened, which ended, too, in a sad disappointment. ]\Iy
dear papa died, and, instead of leaving five thousand pounds, as I
expected at the very least, left only his estate, which was worth but
two. The land and house were left to me ; to mamma and my
sisters he left, to be sure, a sum of two thousand pounds in the
hands of that eminent firm Messrs. Pump, Aldgate & Co., which
failed within six months after his demise, and paid in five years
about one shilling and idnepence in the pound ; which really was all
my dear mother and sisters had to live upon.
The poor creatures were quite unused to money matters ; and,
would you believe it ? when the news came of Pump and Aldgate's
failure, mamma only smiled, and threw her eyes up to heaven, and
said, " Blessed be God, that we have still wherewithal to live.
There are tens of thousands in this world, dear children, who would
count our poverty riches." And with this she kissed my two sisters,
who began to blubber, as girls always will do, and threw their arms
round her neck, and then round my neck, until I was half stifled
with their embraces, and slobbered all over with their tears.
"Dearest mamma," said I, "I am very glad to see the noble
manner in which you bear your loss; and more still to know that
you are so rich as to be able to put up with it." The fact was, I
really thought the old lady had got a private hoard of her own, as
many of them have — a thousand pounds or so in a stocking. Had
she put by thirty pounds a year, as well she might, for the thirty
570 THE FATAL BOOTS
years of her marriage, there would have been nine hundred pounds
clear, and no mistake. But still I was angry to tliink that any
such paltry concealment had been practised — concealment too of my
money ; so I turned on her pretty sharply, and continued my speech.
" You say, ma'am, that you are rich, and that Pump and Aldgate's
failure has no effect upon you. I am very hajipy to hear you say
so, ma'am — very happy that you are rich ; and I should like to
know where your property, my father's property, for you liad none
of your own,-— I should like to know wliere this money lies — where
you have concealed it, ma'am ; and permit me to say, that when I
agreed to boanl you and my two sistci-s for eighty pounds a year, I
did not know that you had other resources tlian those mentioned in
my blessed father's will."
This I said to her because I hated the meanness of concealment,
not because I lost by the bargain of boarding tliem : for the three
poor things did not eat much more than sparrows ; and I've often
since calculated that I had a clear twenty pounds a year profit out
of them.
INIamma and the girls looked quite astonished wlien I made the
speech. " What does he mean 1 " said Lucy to Eliza.
Mamma repeated tlie question. " My beloved Robert, wliat
concealment are you talking of \ "
"I am talking of concealed property, ma'am," says I sternly.
" And do you — what — can you — do you really suppose tliat I
have concealed — any of tliat blessed sa-a-a-aint's prop-op-op-operty?"
screams out mamma. " Robert," says she — " Bob, my own darling
boy — my fondest, best beloved, now he is gone " (meaning my late
governor — more tears) — " you don't, you caiiiiot fancy that your
own mother, who bore you, and n»u\sed you, and wept for you, and
would give her all to save you from a moment's harm — you don't
suppose that she would che-e-e-eat you ! " And here she gave a
louder screech than ever, and flung back on the sof;i ; and one of
my sisters went and tumbled into her arms, and t'other went round,
and the kissing and slobbering scene went on agjiin, only I was left
out, thank goodness. I hate such sentimentality.
" Che-e-e-eat me," says I, mocking her. " What do you mean,
then, by saying you're so rich 1 Say, have you got money, or have
you not 1 " (And I rapped out a good niunber of oaths, too, which
I don't put in liere ; but I was in a dreadful fury, that's the
fact.)
"So help me Heaven," says mamma, in answer, going down on
her knees and smacking her two hands, " I have but a Queen Anne's
guinea in the wliole of this wicked Avorld."
" Then wliat, madam, induces you to tell these absiu"d stories to
I
DOGS HAVE THEIR DAYS 571
me, and to talk about your riches, wlien you know tliat you and your
daughters are beggars, ma'am— be<j,/ars ? "
"My dearest boy, have we not "got the house, and tlu; furniture,
and a hundred a year still ; and have you not great talents, which
will make all our fortunes T' says Mrs. Stubbs, getting ui)'(.lt h.T
knees, aji<l making believe to smile as she clawed hold of my hand
and kissed it.
This was too cool. " Yo^i have got a hundred a year, ma'am ?"
says I—" you have got a house 1 Upon my soul and honour this is
the first I ever heard of it ; and I'll tell you what, ma'am," says I
(and it cut her pretty sharj>hj too) : "As you've got it, you'd better
(JO and live in it. I've got quite enough to do with my own house,
and every penny of my own income."
Upon this speech the old Imly said nothing, but she gave a
screech loud enough to be lieard from here to York, and down she
fell — kicking and struggling in a regular fit.
•
I did not see Mrs. Stubbs for some days after this, and the girls
used to come d(iwn to meals, and never speak ; going uj) again and
stopping with their mother. At last, one day, both of them came
in very solemn to my study, and Eliza, the eldest, said, " Robert,
mamma has paid you our board up to Michaelmas."
" She has," says I ; for I always took precious good care to have
it in advance.
" She says, Robert, that on Michaelmas Day — we'll — we'll go
away, Robert."
" Oh, she's going to her own house, is she, Lizzy 1 Very good.
She'll wanj; the furniture, I suppose, and that she may have too,
for I'm going to sell the place myself." And so that matter was
settled.
On Michaelmas Day — and during these two months I hadn't,
I do believe, seen my mother twice (once, about two o'clock in tlie
morning, I woke and found her sobbing over my bed) — on Michael-
mas-Day morning, Eliza comes to me and says, " Rohert^ they will
come and fetch us at six this evening." Well, as this was the last
day, I went and got the best goose I could find (I don't think I
ever saw a primer, or ate more hearty myself), and had it roasted
at three, with a good })udding afterwards ; and a glorious bowl of
punch. " Here's a health to you, dear girls," says I, " and you,
Ma, and good luck to all three ; and as you've not eaten a
morsel, I hope you won't object to a glass of punch. It's the old
stuff, you know, ma'am, tliat that Waters sent to my father fifteen
years ago."
572
THE FATAL BOOTS
Six o'clock came, and with it came a flue barouche. As I live,
Captain Waters was on the box (it was his coach) ; that old thief.
Bates, jumijed out, entered my house, and before I could say Jack
Robinson, whipped oft" mamma to the carriage : the girls followed,
just giving me a hasty shake of the hand ; and as mamma was
helped in, Mary Waters, who was sitting inside, flung her arms
round her, and then round the girls ; and the Doctor, who acted
footman, jumi)ed on the box, and oft" they went ; taking no more
notice of me than if I'd been a nonentity.
Here's a j»icture of the whole business : — Mamma and Miss
Waters are sitting kissing each other in the carriage, with the two
girls in the back seat ; Waters is driving (a jtreciiMis bad driver he
is too) ; and I'm standing at the garden door, and whistling. That
old fool Mary Mahnvney is crying behind the garden gate : she went
oft' next day along with the furniture ; and I to get into that
precious scrape which I siiall mciitiun next.
SEPTEMBER— PLUCKING A GOOSE
AFTER iny papa's death, as he left me no money, and only a
little land, I put my estate into an auctioneer's hands, and
determined to amuse my solitude with a trip to some of our
fashionable watering-places. My house was now a desert to me.
I need not say how the departure of my dear parent, and her
children, lefl me sad and lonely.
Well, I had a little ready money, and, for the estate, expected
a couple of thousand pounds. I had a good military-looking person :
for though I had absolutely cut the old North Bungays (indeed,
after my affair with Waters, Colonel Craw hinted to me, in the
most friendly manner, that I had better resign) — though I had left
the army, I still retained the rank of Captain ; knowing the advan-
tages attendant upon that title in a watering-place tour.
Captain Stubbs became a great dandy at Cheltenham, Harro-
gate, Bath, Leamington, and other places. I was a good whist and
billiard player ; so much so, that in many of these towns, the
people used to refuse, at last, to play with me, knowing how for I
was their superior. Fancy my surprise, about five years after the
Portsmouth atfair, when strolling one day up the High Street, in
Leamington, my eyes liglited upon a young man, whom I re-
membered in a certain butcher's yard, and elsewhere — no other, in
fact, than Do])ble. He, too, was dressed en militaire, with a
frogged coat and spurs ; and was walking with a showy-looking,
Jewish-faced, black-haired lady, glittering with chains and rings,
with a green bonnet and a bird-of-Paradise — a lilac shawl, a yellow
gown, pink silk stockings, and liglit-bluc shoes. Three children,
and a handsome footman, were walking behind her, and the ]iarty,
not seeing me, entered the " Royal Hotel " together.
I was known myself at the " Royal," and calling one of the
waiters, learned the names of the lady and gentleman. He was
Captain Dobble, the son of the rich army-clothier, Dobble (Dobl)le,
Hobble & Co., of Pall Mall) ;— the lady was a Mrs. Manasseh,
widow of an American Jew, living quietly at Leamington with her
children, but possessed of an immense property. There's Jio use
to give one's self out to be an absolute pauper : so the fact is, that
574 THE FATAL BOOTS
I myself went everywhere with the character of a man of very large
means. My father had died, leaving me immense sums of money,
and landed estates. Ah ! I was the gentleman then, the real
gentleman, and everybody wa.s too happy to have me at table.
Well, I came the next day and left a card for Dobl)le, with a
note. He neither returned my visit, nor answered my note. Tlie
day after, however, I met him with the widow, as before ; and
going up to him, very kindly seized him by the hand, and swore I
was — as really was the case — charmed to see him. Doblile hung
back, to my surprise, and I do believe the creature would have cut
me, if he dared ; but I gave him a frowTi, and said —
"What, Dobljle my boy, don't you recollect old Stubbs, ami
our adventure with the imtclier's daughters — ha ? "
Dobble gave a sickly kind of grin, and said, " Oh ! ah ! yes !
It is — yes ! it is, I believe. Captain Stubbs."
"An old comrade, madam, of Captain Dol)l)le's, and one who
has heard so nuich, and seen so much of your Ladyship, that he
must take the liberty of begging his friend to introduce him."
Dobble was obliged to take the hint ; and Captain Stubl>8 was
duly presented to Mrs. Maiiasseli. The lady was as gracious as
possible; and when, at the end of tlie walk, we parted, she said
she " hoped Captain Do])ble would liring me to her apartments that
evening, where she expected a few friends." EverylttMly, you see,
knows everybody at Leamington ; and I, for my part, was well
known as a retired officer of the army, wlio, on his fatlier's death,
iiad conic into seven thousand a year. Dobble's arrival had l»ecn
subscijuent to mine ; Init putting up as he ilid at the " Royal
Hotel," and dining at the ordinary there with the widow, he iiad
made her acfiuaintance Ix^fore I had. I saw, however, that if I
allowed him to talk about me, as he could, I should be comjielleil
to give up all my hopes and plciisures at Leamington ; antl so I
determined to be short with him. As soon as the lady had gone
into tli(^ hotel, my frieml Dobble was for leaving me likewise ; but
I stoiii)e<l him, and said, "Mr. I)obble, I saw what you meant just
now : you wanted to cut me, l»ecause, forsooth, I did not choo.^c
to fight a duel at Portsmouth. Now look you, Dolible, I am no
hero, but I am not such a coward as you — an<l you kjiow it. You
are a very different man to deal with from Waters ; and / viil frjht
this time."
Not jierhaps that I would : but after the business of the Initcher,
I knew Dobble to be as great a coward as ever lived ; and there
never was any harm in threatening, for you know you are not
obliged to stick to it afterwards. j\Iy words ha<l their effect uj)on
Dobble, who stuttered and looked red, and then declared he never
PLFrKINO A r.OORE 575
had the sHghtest intention of passing me by ; so we became frieuds,
and his mouth was stopped.
He was very tliick with the widow, but that lady had a very
capacious heart, and there were a nuinl)er of other gentlemen who
seemed equally smitten with her. "Look at that Mrs. Manasseh,"
said a gentleman (it was droll, he was a Jew, too) sitting at dinner
by me. " Slie is old, ugly, and yet, because she has money, all the
men are flinging themselves at her."
" She has money, has she ? "
"Eighty thousand pounds, and twenty thousand for each of her
children. I know it for a fact" said the strange gentleman. " I
am in the law, and we of our faith, you know, know pretty well
what the great families amongst us are worth."
" Who was Mr. Manasseh 1 " said I.
" A man of enormous Avealth — a tobacco-merchant — West Indies;
a fellow of no birth, however ; and who, between ourselves, married a
woman that is not much better than she should be. ]\Iy dear sir,"'
whispered he, "she is always in ]i>ve. Now it is with that Captain
Dobble ; last week it was somebody else — and it may be you next
week, if — ha ! ha ! ha ! — you are disposed to enter the lists. I
wouldn't, for my part, have the woman ^^^th twice her money."
What did it matter to me whether the woman was good or not,
provided she was rich ? My course was quite clear. I told Dolible
all that this gentleman liad informeil me, and being a pretty i;ood
hand at making a story, I made the widow apjiear ,w liad, that the
poor fellow was quite frightened, and fairly quitted the Held. Ha I
ha ! I'm dashed if I did not make him believe that Mrs. ]\Ianassch
had 77iurdered her last husband.
I played my game so well, thanks to the information that my
friend the lawyer had given me, that in a month I liad got tlie
widow to show a most decided i^artiality for me. I sat by her at
dinner, I drank with her at the " Wells "—I rode with her, I danced
with her, and at a picnic to Kenilworth, where we drank a good deal
of champagne, I actually pojiped the question, and was accepted.
In another month, Robert Stubbs, Esquire, led to the altar, Leah,
widow of the late Z. Manasseh, Esquire, of St. Kitt's !
• •••■*
We drove up to London in her comfortable chariot : the children
and servants following in a postchaise. I paid, of course, for every-
thing ; and until our house in Berkeley Square was. painted, we
stopped at " Stevens's Hotel."
■ • ■ * *
My own estate had been sold, and the money was lying at a
bank in the City. About three days after our arrival, as we took
19
576 THE FATAL BOOTS
our breakfast in the hotel, previous to a visit to Mrs. Stubbs's
banker, where certain little transfers were to be made, a gentleman
was introduced, who, I saw at a glance, was of my wife's persuasion.
He looked at Mrs. Stubbs, and made a bow. " Perhaps it will
be convenient to you to pay this little bill, one hundred and fifty-
two pounds ] "
" My love," says she, " will you pay this ? — it is a trifle which I
had really forgotten."
" My soul ! " said I, " I have really not the money in the
house."
" Veil, (lenn, Captain Shtubbsh," says he, " I must do my duty
— and arrest you — here is the writ! Tom, keep the door ! "—My
wife fainted — the children screamed, and fancy my condition as I
was obliged to march off" to a spunging-house along with a horrid
sheriffs officer !
OCTOBER— MARS AND VENUS IN OPPOSITION
I SHALL not describe my feelings when I found myself in a cage
in Cursitor Street, instead of tliat fine house in Berkeley Square,
which was to have been mine as the husband of Mrs. Mauasseh.
What a place ! — in an odious dismal street leading from Chancery
Lane. A hideous Jew boy opened the second of three doors, and
shut it when Mr. Nabb and I (almost fainting) had entered ; then
he opened the third door, and then I was introduced to a filtliy
place called a coffee-room, which I exchanged for the solitary comfort
of a little dingy back-parlour, where I was left for a while to
brood over my miserable fate. Fancy the change between this and
Berkeley Square ! Was I, after all my pains, and cleverness, and
perseverance, cheated at last ? Had this Mrs. Manasseh been im-
posing upon me, and were the words of the wretch I met at the
table-d'hote at Leamington only meant to mislead me and take ma
in 1 I determined to send for my wife, and know the whole truth.
I saw at once that I had been the victim of an infernal plot, ami
that the carriage, the house in town, the West India fortune, wer(!
only so many lies Avhich I had blindly beheved. It was true the
debt was but a hundred and fifty pounds ; and I had two thousand
at my bankers'. But was the loss of her eighty thousand pounds
nothing*? Was the destruction of my hopes nothing? The accursed
addition to my family of a Jewish wife and three Jewish children,
nothing 1 And all these I was to support out of my two thdusanw"
pounds. I had better have stopped at home with my mamma
and sisters, whom I really did love, and who produced me eighty
pounds a year.
I had a furious interview with Mrs. Stubbs ; and when I charged
her, the base wretch ! with cheating me, like a brazen serpent as
she was, she flung back the cheat in my teeth, and swon- I liad
swindled her. Why did I marry her, when she might liavc liad
twenty others % She only took me, she said, because I had twenty
thousand pounds. I had said I possessed that sum : but in love,
you know, and war all's fair.
We parted quite as angrily as we met ; and I cordially vowed
that when I had paid the debt into which I had been swindled by
578 THE FATAL B00T8 ,
her, I would take my two thousand pounds and depart to some
desert island ; or, at the very least, to America, and never see her
more, or any of her Israclitish brood. There was no use in remain-
ing in the spunging-house (for I knew that there were such things
as detainers, and that ■\\'here Mrs. Stubbs owed a hundred pounds,
she might owe a thousand) : so I sent for Mr. Nabb, and tendering
him a cheque for one hundred and fifty pounds and his costs,
requested to be let out forthwith. " Here, fellow," said I, " is a
cheque on Child's for your paltry sum."
" It may be a sheck on Shild's," says Mr. Nabb ; " but I should
be a baby to let you out on such a paper as dat."
•' Well," said I, " Child's is but a step from this : you may go
and get the cash, — just give me an acknowledgment."
Nabb drew out the acknowledgment with great punctuality,
and set off for the bankers', whilst I prepared myself for departure
from this abominable prison.
He smiled as he came in. " Well," said I, " you have touched
your money ; and now, I must tell you, that you are the most
infernal rogue and extortioner I ever met with."
" Oh no, Mishter Shtubbsh," says he, grinning still. " Dere is
som greater roag dan me, — mosh greater."
" Fellow," said I, " don't stand grinning before a gentleman ;
but give me my hat and cloak, and let me leave your filthy den."
" Shtop, Shtubbsh," says he, not even Mistering me this time.
" Here ish a letter, vich you had better read."
I opened the letter ; something fell to the ground, — it was my
cheque.
The letter ran thus : —
" Messrs. Child & Co. present their compliments to Captain
Stubbs, and regret that they have been obliged to refuse payment
of the enclosed, having been served this day with an attachment by
Messrs. Solomonson & Co., which compels them to retain Captain
Stubbs's balance of £2,010, lis. 6d. until the decision of the suit of
Solomonson v. Stubbs.
"Fleet Street."
" You see," says Mr. Nabb, as I read this dreadful letter — " you
see, Shtubbsh, dere vas two debts, — a little von and a big von. So
dey arrested you for de little von, and attashed your money for de
big von."
Don't laugh at me for telling this story. If you knew what
tears are blotting over the paper as I write it — if you knew that for
weeks after I was more like a madman than a sane man, — a mad-
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MARS AND VENUS IN OPPOSITION 579
man in the Fleet Prison, where I went instead of to the desert
island ! What had I done to deserve it ? Hadn't I always kept an
eye to the main chance 1 Hadn't I lived economically, and not like
other young men 1 Had I ever been known to squander or give
away a single penny ? No ! I can lay my hand on my heart, and,
thank Heaven, say, No ! Why, why was I punished so ?
Let me conclude this miserable history. Seven months — my
wife saw me once or twic«, and then drojiped me altogetlier — I
remained in that fatal place. I wrote to my dear mamma, begging
her to sell her furniture, but got no answer. All my old friends
tiu'ned their backs upon mo. My action went against me — I had
not a penny to defend it. Solomonson proved my wife's debt, and
seized my two thousand pounds. As for the detainer against me,
I was obliged to go through the court for the relief of insolvent
debtors. I passed through it, and came out a beggar. But fancy
the malice of tluxt wicked Stitfelkind : he appeared in coiu't as my
creditor for three pounds, with sixteen years' interest at five iier
cent., for a pair of top-boots. The old tluef produced them in
court, and told the whole story — Lord Cornwallis, the detection, the
pumping and all.
Conunissioner Dubobwig was very funny about it. " So Doctor
Swishtail would not pay you for the boots, eh, Mr. Stiffelkind 'I "
" No : he said, ven I asked him for payment, dey was ordered
by a yong boy, and I ought to have gone to his schoolmaster."
" What ! then you came on a bootless errand, hey, sir 1 " (A
laugh.)
" Bootless ! no sare, I brought de boots back vid me. How de
devil else could I show dem to you"?" (Another laugh.)
" You've never soled 'em since, Mr. Tickleshins ? "
" I never would sell dem ; I svore I never vood, on porpus to
be revenged on dat Stobbs."
" What ! your wound has never been healed, eh ? "
"Vat de you mean vid your bootless errands, and your soling
and healing 1 I tell you I have done vat I svore to do : I liave
exposed him at school ; I have broak ofl" a marriage for him, ven he
vould have had tventy tousand pound ; and now I have showed him
up hi a court of justice. Dat is vat I 'ave done, and dat's enough."
And then the old wi-etch went down, whilst everybody was giggling
and staring at poor me — as if I was not miserable enough already.
" This seems the dearest pair of boots you ever had in your life,
Mr. Stubbs," said Commissioner Dubobwig very archly, and then he
began to inquire about the rest of my misfortunes.
In the fulness of my heart I told him the whole of them : how
Mr. Solomonson the attorney had introduced me to the rich widow,
580 THE FATAL BOOTS
Mrs. Manasseh, wlio had fifty thousand pounds, and an estate m
the West Indies. How I was married, and arrested on coming to
town, and cast in an action for two thousand pounds brought against
me by this very Solomouson for my wife's debts.
" Stop ! " says a lawyer in the court. "Is tliis woman a showy
black-liaired woman with one eye? very often drunk, with three
childi'cn 1 — Solomonson, short, with red hair 1 "
" Exactly so," said I, with tears in my eyes.
" That woman has married three men within the last two years.
One in Ireland, and one at Bath. A Solomonson is, I believe, her
husband, and they both are oft' for America ten days ago."
" But why did you not keep your two thousand pounds?" said
the lawyer.
" Sir, they attached it."
" Oh, well, we may pass you. You have been unlucky, Mr.
Stubbs, but it seems as if the biter had been bit in this affair."
" No," said Mr, Dubobwig. " Mr. Btubbs is the victim of a
FATAL ATTACHMENT."
NOVEMBER— A GENERAL POST DELIVERY
1WAS a fi-ee man when I went out of the court ; but I was a
beggar — I, Cai)tain Stubljs, of the bold North Bungays, did not
know where I (H)uld get a, bed, or a dinner.
As I was marcliing sadly down Portugal Street, I felt a hand
on my shoulder and a rough voice which I knew well.
" Veil, Mr. Stol)bs, have I not kept my promise 1 I told you
dem boots would l)e your ruin."
I was much too nuserable to reply ; and only cast my eyes
towards the roofs of the houses, which I could not see for the
tears.
" Vat ! you begin to gry and blobber like a shild ? you vood
marry, vood you 1 and noting vood do for you but a vife vid monny —
ha, ha — bixt you vere de pigeon, and she was de grow. She has
plocked you, too, pretty veil — eh 1 ha ! ha ! "
" Oh, Mr. Stiffelkind," said I, " don't laugh at my misery : she
has not left me a single shilling under heaven. And I shall starve :
I do believe I shall starve." And I began to cry fit to break my
heart.
"Starf! stoff and nonsense! You vill never die of starfing —
you vill die of hanging, I tink — ho ! ho ! — and it is nioch easier
vay too." I didn't say a word, but cried on; till everybody in the
street turned round and stared.
" Come, come," said Stiffelkind, " do not gry, Gaptain Stobbs —
it is not goot for a Gaptain to gry— ha ! h;T ! Dere — -come vid me,
and you shall have a dinner, and a bregfast too, — vich shall gost
you nothing, until you can bay vid your earnings."
And so this curious old man, who had persecuted me all through
my prosperity, grew compassionate towards me in my ill-luck ; and
took me home with him as he promised. " I saw your name among
de Insolvents, and I vowed, you know, to make you repent dem
boots. Dere now, it is done, and forgotten, look you. Here,
Betty, Bettchen, make de spare bed, and put a clean knife and
fork ; Lort Cornvallis is come to dine vid me."
I lived with tliis strange old man for six weeks. I kept his
books, and did what little I could to make myself useful : carrying
582 THE FATAL BOOTS
about boots and shoes, as if I had never borne His Majesty's com-
mission. He gave me no money, but he fed and lodged me com-
fortably. The men and boys used to laugh and call me General,
and Lord Cornwallis, and all sorts of nicknames ; and old StiflFel-
kind made a thousand new ones for me.
One day I can recollect — one miserable day, as I was polishing
on the trees a pair of boots of Mr. Stiffelkind's manufacture — the
old gentleman came into the shop, with a lady on his arm.
" Vere is Gaptain Stobbs ? " said he. " Vera is dat ornament to
His Majesty's service 1 "
I came in from the back shop, where I was polishing the boots,
with one of them in my hand.
" Look, my dear," says he, " here is an old friend of yours, his
Excellency Lort Cornvallis ! — Who would have thought such a
nobleman vood turn shoeblack 1 Gajitain Stobbs, here is your
former flame, my dear niece, Miss Grotty. How coidd you,
Magdalen, ever leaf such a lof of a man? Shake hands vid her,
Gaptain ; — dere, never mind de l>lacking ! " But INIiss drew back.
"I never shake hands with a shoeblack" said she, mighty con-
temptuous.
" Bah ! my lof, his fingers von't soil you. Don't you know he
has just been vitevashed .? "
" I wish, uncle," says she, " you would not leave me with such
low peojile."
"Low, because he cleans boots] De Gaptain prefers 7>?<;h/>s to
boots, I tink lia ! ha ! "
" Captain indeed ; a nice Captain," says Miss Crutty, snapping
her fingers in my face, and walking away : "a Captain who has had
liis nose pulled ! ha ! ha ! " — And how could I help it? it wasn't by
my own choice that that ruffian Waters took such lil)erties with me.
Didn't I show how averse I was to all ipiarrels by refusing altogether
his challenge ? — But such is the world. And thus the people at
Stiffelkind's used to tease me, until they drove me almost mad.
At last he came home one day more merry and abusive than
ever. " G:ii)tain," says he, " I have goot news for you — a goot
jilace. Your Lordship vill not be able to geep your garridgc, but
you vill be gomfortable, and serve His Majesty."
" Serve His Majesty ] " says I. " Dearest Mr. Stift'elkind, have
you got me a place under Government ? "
" Yes, and somting better still — not only a place, but a uniform :
yes, Gaptain Stobbs, a red goat."
" A red coat ! I hope you don't think I would demean myself
by entering the ranks of the army ? I am a gentleman, Mr.
Stift'elkind — I can never — no, I never '
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A GENERAL POST DELIVERY 583
" No, I know you will never — you are too great a go ward — ha !
ha ! — though dis is a red coat, and a place where you must give
some hard knocks too— ha ! ha ! — do you gomprehend 1 — and you
shall be a general instead of a gaptain — ha ! ha ! "
"A general in a red coat, Mr. Stiftolkind ] "
"Yes, a Genehal Bostman ! — lia ! ha ! I have been vid your
old friend. Bunting, and he has an uncle in the Post-Office, and he
has got you de place — eighteen shillings a veek, you rogue, and
your goat. You nuist not oben any of de letters, you know."
And so it was — I, Robert Stubbs, Esquire, became the vile
thing he named — a general postman !
I was so disgusted with Stiffelkiud's brutal jokes, which were
now more brutal than ever, that when I got my place in the Post-
Office, I never went near the fellow again ; for though he had done
me a favoiu" in keeping me from starvation, he certainly had done it
in a very rude disagreeable manner, and showed a low and mean
spirit in shoving me into such a degraded place as that of postman.
But what had I to do? I submitted to fate, and for three years
or more, Robert Stubbs, of the North Bungay Fencibles, was
I wonder nobody recognised me. I lived in daily fear the first
year : but afterwards grew accustomed to my situation, as all great
men will do, and wore my red coat as naturally as if I had been
sent into the world only for the purpose of being a letter-carrier.
I was first in the Whitechapel district, where I stayed for neai'ly
three years, when I was transferred to Jermyn Street and Duke
Street — famous places for lodgings. I suppose I left a hundred
letters at a house in the latter street, where lived some people who
must have recognised me had they but once chanced to look at me.
You see that, when I left Sloffemsijuiggle, and set out in the
gay world, my mamma had written to me a dozen times at least ;
but I never answered her, for I knew she wanted money, and I
detest writing. Well, she stopped her letters, finding she could
get none from me : — but when I was in the Fleet, as I told you, I
wrote repeatedly to my dear mamma, and was not a little nettled at
her refusing to notice me in my distress, which is the very time one
most wants notice.
Stul)bs is not an uncommon name ; and though I saw Mrs.
Stubbs on a little bright brass plate in Duke Street, and delivered
so many letters to the lodgers in her house, I never thought of
asking who she was, or whether she was my relation or not.
One day the young woman who took in the letters had not got
change, and she called her mistrciss. An old lady in a poke-boiuiet
came out of the parlour, and jnit on her spectacles, and looked at
584 THE FATAL BOOTS
the letter, and fumbled in her pocket for eight} )ence, and apologised
to the postman for keeping him waiting. And when I said, " Never
mind, ma'am, it's no trouble," the old lady gave a start, and then
she pulled off her spectacles, and staggered back; and then she
began muttering, as if about to choke ; and then she gave a great
screech, and flung herself into my arms, and roared out, " My son,
MY SON ! "
" Law, mamma," said I, "is that joni" and I sat down on the
hall liench with her, and let her kiss me as much as ever she liked.
Hearing the winning and crying, down comes another lady from
nijstairs, — it was my sister Eliza; and down come the lodgers.
And the maid gets water and what not, and I was the regular hero
of the group. I could not stay long then, having my letters to
dehver. But, in the evening, after mail-time, I went back to my
mamma and sister; and, over a bottle of prime old port, and a
precious good leg of boiled mutton and turnips, made myself pretty
comfortable, I can tell you.
DECEMBER— '^ THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT"
MAMMA had kept the house in Duke Street for more than two
years. I recollected some of the chairs and tables from dear
old Sloft'emsquiKglo, and the bowl in which I had made that
famous ruin-])unfh, the evening she went away, which she and my
sisters left untoui'hed, and I was obliged to drink after they were
gone ; but that's not to the purpose.
Think of my sister Lucy's luck ! that chap, Waters, fell in love
with her, and married her; and she now keeps her carriage, and lives
in state near Slottemsquiggle. I offered to make it up with Waters ;
but he bears malice, and never will see or speak to me. — He had
the impudence, too, to say, that he took in all letters for mamma at
Sloffemsquiggle ; and that as mine were all begging-letters, he burned
them, and never said a word to her concerning them. He allowed
mamma fifty pounds a year, and, if she were not such a fool, slie
might have had three times as much ; but the old lady was higli
and mighty forsooth, and would not be beholden, even to her own
daughter, for more than she actually wanted. Even this fifty pound
she was going to refuse ; but when I came to live with her, of course
I wanted pocket-money as well as board and lodging, and so I had
the fifty pounds for my share, and eked out with it as well as I
could.
Old Bates and the Captain, between them, gave mamma a
hundred jwunds when she left me (she had the deuce's own luck, to
be sure — much more than ever fell to me, I know) ; and as she said
she would try and work for her living, it was thought best to take
a house and let lodgings, which she did. Our first and second fioor
paid us four guineas a week on an average ; and the front parlour
and attic made forty pounds more. Mamma and Eliza used to have
the front attic ; but / took that, and they slept in the servants' bed-
room. Lizzy had a pretty genius for work, and earned a guinea a
week that way ; so that we had got nearly two hundred a year over
the rent to keep house with, — and we got on pretty well. Besides,
women eat nothing: my women didn't care for meat for days togetlier
sometimes, — so that it was only necessary to dress a good steak or
so for me.
586 THE FATAL BOOTS
Mamma would not think of my continuing in the Post-Office.
She said her dear Robert, her husband's son, her gallant soldier, and
all that, should remain at home and be a gentleman — which I was,
certainly, though I didn't find fifty pounds a year very much to buy
clothes and be a gentleman upon. To be sure, mother found me
shirts and linen, so that that wasn't in the fifty pounds. She kicked
a little at leaving the washing too ; but she gave in at last, for I
was her dear Bob, you know ; and I'm blest if I could not make her
give me the gown off her back. Fancy ! once she cut up a very nice
rich black silk scarf, which my sister Waters sent her, and made
me a waistcoat and two stocks of it. She was so very soft, the
old lady !
I'd lived in tliis way for five years or more, making myself
content with my fifty pounds a year [perhajis I'd saved a little out
of it ; but that's neither here nor there). From year's end to year's
end I remained faithful to my dear mamma, never leaving her except
for a month or so in the sununer — when a bachelor may take a trip
to Gravesend or JNIargate, wliich would be too expensive for a family.
I say a bachelor, for the fact is, I don't know whether I am married
or not— never having heard a word since of the scoundrelly Mi-s.
Stubbs.
I never went to the public-house before meals : for, with my
beggarly fifty pounds, I could not afford to dine away from home :
but there I had my regular seat, and used to come home jiretty
glorious, I can tell you. Then bed till eleven; then breakfast and
the newspaper ; then a stroll in Hyde Park or St. James's ; then
home at half-past tliree to dinner — when I jollied, as I call it, for
the rest of the day. I was my mother's delight ; and thus, with a
clear conscience, I managed to live oji.
How fond she was of me, to be sure ! Being sociable myself
and loving to have my friends about me, we often used to assemble
a company of as hearty fellows as you would wish to sit down with,
and keep the nights \\\) royall}\ " Never mind, my boys," I used
to say, "send the bottle round : mammy pays for all." As she did,
sure enough : and sure enough we punished her cellar too. The
good old lady used to wait upon us, as if for all the world she had
been my servant, instead of a lady and my manuua. Never used she
to repine, though I often, as I must confess, gave her occasion (keep-
ing her up till four o'clock in the morning, because she never could
sleep until she saw her " dear Bob " in bed, and leading her a sad
anxious life). She was of such a sweet temper, tlie old lady, that
a
O
w
g
a
n
H
M
50
O
o
q
o
O
W
Z
H
"THE WINTER OF OUR DISCONTENT" 587
I thiuk in the course of five years I never knew her in a passion,
except twice : and then with sister Lizzy, who declared I was ruining
the house, and (h'iving the lodgers away, one by one. But nianinia
would not hear of such envious spite on my sister's part. " Her
Bob " was always right, she said. At last Lizzy fairly rcti-eated,
and went to the Waters's. — I was glad of it, for her teni])er was
dreadful, and we used to be squabbling from morning till night !
Ah, those were jolly times ! but ma was obliged to give up the
lodging-house at last — for, somehow, things went wrong after my
sister's departure — the nasty uncharitable people said, on account
of me ;. because I drove away the lodgers by smoking and drinking,
and kicking uj) noises in the Imusc ; and because ma gave me so
much of her money : — so she did, but if she tvould give it, you know,
how could I help it 1 Heigho ! I wish I'd hept it.
No such luck. Tlie business I thought was to last for ever ;
but at the end of two years came a smash — shut up shop — sell off
everything. Mamma went to the Waters's : and, will you believe
it 1 the ungrateful wretches would not receive me ! that Mary, you
see, was so disappointed at not marrying me.
Twenty pounds a year they allow, it is true ; but what's that
for a gentleman 1 For twenty years I have been struggling manfully
to gain an honest livelihood, and, in the course of them, have seen a
deal of life, to be sure. I've sold cigars and pocket-handkerchiefs at
the corners of streets ; I've been a billiard-marker ; I've been a
director (in the panic year) of the Imperial British Consolidated
Mangle and Drying Ground Company. I've been on the stage (for
two years as an actor, and about a month as a cad, when I was very
low) ; I've been the means of giving to the police of this empire
some very valuable information (about licensed victuallers, gentle-
men's carts, and pawnbrokers' names) ; I've been very nearly an
officer again — that is, an assistant to an officer of the Sherift' of
Middlesex : it was my last place.
On the last day of the year 1837, even that game was up. It's
a thing that very seldom happened to a gentleman, to be kicked out
of a spunging-house ; but such was my case. Young Nabb (who
succeeded Ins father) drove me ignominiously from his door, because
I had charged a gentleman in the coffee-room seven-and-sixpence for
a glass of ale and bread and cheese, the charge of the house being
only six shillings. He had the meanness to deduct the eighteen-
pence from my wages, and because I blustered a bit, he took me by
the shoulders and turned me out — me, a gentleman, and, what is
more, a poor orphan !
How I did rage and swear at him when I got out into the street !
There stood he, the hideous Jew monster, at the double door, writh-
588 THE FATAL BOOTS
iiig under the effect of my language. I had my revenge ! Heads
were thrust out of every bar of his windows, laugliing at him. A
crowd gathered round me, as I stood pounding him with my satire,
and they evidently enjoyed his discomfiture. I think the mob would
have pelted the ruffian to death (one or two of their missiles hit me,
I can tell you), when a policeman came up, and in reply to a gentle-
man, who was asking what was the disturbance, said, " Bless you,
sir, it's Lord Cornwallis." "Move on, Boots" said the fellow to
me ; for the fact is, my misfortunes and early life are pretty well
known — and so the crowd dispersed.
" What could have made that policeman call you Lord Cornwallis
and Boots?" .said the gentleman, who seemed mightily amused, and
had followed me. "Sir," says I, "I am an unfortunate officer of
the North Bungay Fencibles, and I'll tell you willingly for a pint
of beer. " He told me to follow him to his chambers in the Temple,
which I did (a five-pair back), and there, sure enough, I had the
beer ; and told him this very story you've been reading. You see
he is what is called a literary man^and sold my adventures for me
to the booksellers : he's a strange chap ; and says they're moral.
I'm blest if / can see anything moral in them. I'm sure I
ought to have been more lucky through life, being so very wide
awake. And yet here I am, without a pliu;e, or even a friend,
starving upon a beggarly twenty pounds a year — not a single six-
pence more, upon my honour.
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
THE
BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY*
CHAPTER I
OF THE LOVES OF MR. PERKINS AND MISS GORGON, AND OF THE
TWO GREAT FACTIONS IN THE TOIVN OF OLDBOROUGH
M
Y dear Jolm," cried Lucy, with a very wise look indeed,
" it must and shall be so. As for Doughty Street, with
our means, a house is out of the question. We must keep
three servants, and Aunt Biggs says the taxes are one-and-twenty
pounds a year."
" I have seen a sweet place at Chelsea," remarked John :
"Paradise Row, No. 17, — garden — greenhouse — fifty pounds a year
— omnibus to town within a mile."
" What ! that I may be left alone all day, and you spend a fortune
in driving backward and forward in those horrid breakneck cabs ?
My darling, I sliould die there — die of fright, I knuw I should.
Did you not say yourself that the road was not as yet lighted, and
that the place swarmed with public-houses and dreadful tipsy Irish
bricklayers 1 Would you kill me, John 1 "
"My da — arling," said John, with tremendous fondness,
clutching Miss Lucy suddenly round the waist, and rapping the
hand of that young person violently against his waistcoat, — " My
da— arling, don't say such things, even in a joke. If I objected
to the chambers, it is only because you, my love, with your birth
and connections, ought to have a house of your own. The chambers
are quite large enougli, and certainly quite good enough for me."
And so, after some more sweet parley on the part of these young
people, it was agreed that they should take up their abode, when
married, in a part of the House number One hundred and some-
thing, Bedford Row.
* A story of Charles de Bernard furnished the plot of "The Bedford-Row
Conspiracy."
592 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
It will be necessary to ex{)lain to the reader that John was no
other than John Perkins, Esquire, of the Middle Temple, barrister-
at-law, and tliat Miss Lucy was the daughter of the late Ca])tain
Gorgon, and Marianne Biggs, his wife. The Cai)tain being of noble
connections, younger son of a baronet, cousin to Lord X ,
and .related to the Y family, had angered all his relati\'es
by marrying a very silly pretty young woman, who kept a ladies'-
school at Canterbury. She had six hundred pounds to her fortune,
which the Captain laid out in the purchase of a sweet travelling-
carnage and dressing-case for himself: and going abroad with his
lady, spent several yeare in the principal prisons of Europe, in one
of which he died. His wife and daughter were meantime supported
by the contributions of Mrs. Jemima Biggs, who still kept the
ladies'-school.
At last a dear old relative — such a one as one reads of in
romances — died and left seven thousand pounds apiece to the two
sisters, whereupon the elder gave up schooling and retired to
London ; and the younger managed to live with some comfort and
decency at Brussels, upon two hundred and ten pounds per annum.
Mrs. Gorgon never touched a shilling of her capital, for the very
good reason that it was placed entirely out of her reach ; so that
when she died, her daughter found herself in possession of a simi
of money that is not always to be met with in this world.
Her aunt the baronet's lady, and her aunt the ex-schoolmistress,
both wrote very pressing invitations to her, and she resided with
each for six months after her arrival in England. Now, for a
second time, she had come to Mrs. Biggs, Caroline Place, Mecklen-
burgh Square. It was under the roof of that respectable old lady
that John Perkins, Esquire, being invited to take tea, wooed and
won jNIiss Gorgon.
Having thus described the circumstances of Miss Gorgon's life,
let us pass for a moment from that yoimg lady, and lift up the veil
of mystery which envelo]is the deeds and character of Perkins.
Perkins, too, was an orphan ; and he and his Lucy, of summer
evenings, wlien Sol descending lingered fondly yet about the minarets
of the Fountlling, and gilded the gra.ssplots of Mecklenburgh Sciuare
— Perkins, I say, and Lucy woidd often sit together in the summer-
house of that pleasure-ground, and muse upon the strange coincidences
of their life. Lucy was motherless and fatherless ; so too was
Perkins. If Perkins was brothtirless and sisterless, was not Lucy
likewise an only child ? Perkins was twenty-three : his age and
Lucy's united, amounted to forty-six ; and it was to be remarked,
as a fact still more extraordinary, that while Lucy's relatives were
atcnfs, John's were uncles. ^Mysterious spirit of love ! let us treat
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 593
thee witli respect and whisper not tuo nuiiiy of thy Becrets. Tlie
fact is, Johu and Lucy were a pair of fools (aa every young couple
oufjht to be who have hearts that are worth a farthing), and were
ready to find (-oincidences, sympathies, hidden gushes of feeling,
mystic unions of the soul, and what not, in every single circumstance
that occurred from the rising of the sun to the going down thereof,
and in the intervals. Bedford Row, where Perkins lived, is not
very far from Mccklenbiu-gh Square ; and Johu iLsed to say tliat he
felt a comfort that his house and Lucy's were served by the same
muffin-man.
Further comment is needless. A more honest, simple, clever,
warm-hearted, soft, wliimsical, romantical, high-s[)irited young fellow
than John Perkins did not exist. When his father. Doctor Perkins,
died, this, his only son, was placed under the care of John Perkins,
Es(iuire, of the house of Perkins, Scully, and Perkins, those cele-
brated attorneys in the trading town of Oldborough, which the
second partner, William Pitt Scully, Esquire, represented in Parlia-
ment and in London.
All John's fortune was the house in Bedford Row, which, at his
father's death, was let out into chambers, and brought in a clear
hundred a year. Under his uncle's roof at Oldborough, where he
lived with thirteen red-haired male and female cousins, he was only
charged fifty pounds for board, clothes, and pocket-money, and tlie
remainder of his rents was carefully put by for him until his majority.
When he approached that period — when he came to belong to two
spouting-clubs at Oldborough, among the young merchants and
lawyers' clerks— to blow the flute nicely, and play a good game at
billiards — to have written one or two smart things in the Oldhorough
Sentinel — to be fond of smoking (in which act he was discovered
by his fainting aunt at three o'clock one morning) — in one word,
when John Perkins amved at manhood, he discovered that he was
quite unfit to be an attorney, that he detested all the ways of his
uncle's stern, dull, vulgar, regular, red-headed family, and he vowed
that he would go to London and make his fortune. Thither he
went, his aunt and cousins, who were all " serious," vowing that
he was a lost boy ; and when his history opens, John had been two
years in the metroi)olis, inhabiting his owni garrets ; and a very nice
compact set of apartments, looking into the back-garden, at this moment
falling vacant, the i.rudent Lucy Gorgon had visited them, and vowed
that she and her John should there commence housekeeping.
All these exjjlanations are tedious, but necessary ; and further-
more, it must be said, that as John's uncle's partner was the Liberal
member for Oldborough, so Lucy's uncle was its Ministerial repre-
sentative.
594 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
This gentleman, the brother of the deceased Captain Gorgon,
lived at the paternal mansion of Gorgon Castle, and rejoiced in the
name and title of Sir George Grimsby Gorgon. He, too, like his
younger brother, had married a lady beneath his own rank in life ;
having espoused the daughter and heiress of Mr. Hicks, the great
brewer at Oldborough, who held numerous mortgages on the Gorgon
property, all of which he yielded up, together with his daughter
Juliana, to the care of the baronet.
What Lady Gorgon was in character, this history will show.
In person, if she may be compared to any vulgar animal, one of her
father's heavy, healthy, broad-Hanke<l, Roman-nosed white dray-
horses might, to the poetic mind, ajipear to resemble her. At
twenty she was a sjilondid creature, aiid though not at her full
growth, yet remarkahlc for strength and sinew; at forty-five she
was as fine a woman as any in His Majesty's dominions. Five feet
seven in height, thirteen stone, her own teeth and hair, she looked
as if she were the motlier (tf a reinmcnt of Grenadier Guards. She
had three daughters of her own size, and at length, ten years after
the birth of the last of the young ladies, a son — one son — George
Augustus Frederick Grimsby fiorgon, the godson of a royal duke,
whose steady officer in waiting Sir George had been for many years.
It is needless to say, after entering so largely into a description
of Lady Gorgon, that her husband was a little 'shrivelled wizen-faced
creature, eight inches shorter tlian her Ladyship. This is the way
of the world, as every single reath-r of this book nmst liave remarked ;
for frolic love delights to join giants and jiigmies of ditterent sexes
in the bonds of matrimony. When you saw her Ladyshij), in flame-
coloured satin and gorgeous tiKpie and feathers, entering the dmwing-
room, as footmen aUnig the stairs shouted melodiously, "Sir George
and La<ly Gorgon," you beheld in her company a small withered old
gentleman, with powder and large royal household buttons, who
tripped at her elbow jis a little weak-legged colt does at the side of
a stout mare.
The little General had been present at about a hundred and
twenty ititeheil liattles on Hounslow Heatli aTnl Wormwood Scrubs,
but had never drawn his sworI against an eiicn\y. As might be
expected, therefore, his talk and tenve were outrageously military.
He had the whole Army List by heart — tliat is, as far as the field-
otficei"s : all below them he scorned. A bugle at Gorgon Castle
always sounded at breakfa.>^t and dinner: a gun announced sunset.
He clung to his pigtail for many years after the army had forsaken
that ornament, and could never be brought to think much of the
Peninsular men for giving it up. When lie spoke of the Duke,
he used to call him " J/y Lord Wellinr/ton — / i-ecollect him as
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 595
Captain Welle^leij." He swore fearfully in conversation, was most
regular at cluu-cli, and regularly read to liis flmiily and doniesties
tlie morning and evening j)rayer ; he bullied his daughters, seemed
to bully his wife, who led Inm whither siie chose ; gave grand enter-
tainments, and never asked a friend by chance; had splendid
liveries, and starved his jjcople ; and was as dull, stingy, jwuipous,
insolent, cringing, ill-tempered a little creature as ever was known.
With sucli qualities you may fancy that he was generally
adnured in society and l)y his country. So he was : and I never
knew a man so endowed whose way tlirough life was not safe — who
had fewer pangs of conscience — more p(jsitive enjoyments — more
respect shown to him — more favours granted to him, tlian such a
one as my friend the General.
Her Ladysliip was just suited to him, and they did in reality
admire each other hugely. Previously to her marriage with the
baronet, many love-passages had passed between her and William
Pitt Scully, Esquire, the attorney ; and there was especially one
story, a projios of certain syllabubs and Sally-Lunn cakes, which
seemed to sIkjw that matters had gone very far. Be this as it may,
no sooner did the General (Major Gorgon he was tlien) cast an eye
(ju her, than Scully's five years' fabric of love was instantly dashed
to the ground. She cut liim pitilessly, cut Sally Scully, his sister,
her dearest friend and confidante, and bestowed her big person upon
the little aide-de-cami) at tlie end of a fortnight's wooing. In the
course of time their mutual fathers died ; the Gorgon estates were
unencumbered : jtatron of both the seats in the borough of Old-
borough, and occupant of one, Sir George Grimsby Gorgon, Baronet,
was a personage of no small importance.
He was, it scarcely need to be said, a Tory ; and this was the
reason X^hy William Pitt Scully, Esquire, of the firai of Perkins and
Scully, deserted those principles in which he had been bred and
christened ; deserted that church which he had frequented, for he
(;ould not bear to see Sir George and my Lady flaunting in their
grand pew ; — deserted, I say, the cluu'ch, adopted the conventicle,
and became one of the most zealous and eloquent supporters that
Freedom has known in our time. Scully, of the house of Scully
and Perkins, was a dangerous enemy. In five years from that
marriage, which snatched from the jilted solicitor his heart's young
affiections, Sir George Gorgon found that he must actually spend
seven hundred pounds to keep liis two seats. At the next election,
a Liberal was set up against lus man, and actually ran him hard ;
and finally, at the end of eighteen years, the rejected Scully — the
mean attorney — was actually the first Member for Oldborough, Sir
George Grimsby Gorgon, Baronet, being only the second !
596 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
T!ie agony of that day rannot Ix? imai^ined — tlie (lrea<lful curses
of Sir George, avIio saw fifteen hundred a year rol)bed from under
his very nose — the religious resignation of my Lady — the hideous
■window-smashing that took place at the " Gorgon Arms," and the
discomfiture of the pelted Mayor and Corporation. The very next
Sunday, Scully was reconciled to the church (or attended it in the
morning, and the meeting twice in the afternoon), and as Doctor
Sncjrter uttered the prayer for the High Court of Parliament, his
eye, the eye of his whole i)arty — turned towards Lady Gorgon and
Sir George in a most unholy triumiih. Sir George (who always
stood during jtrayers, like a military man) fairly sank down among
the hassocks, and Lady (Jorgon was heard to sob as audibly as ever
ditl little lM!adl('-lu'lal)()un'd urchin.
Scully, when at Oldborough, came from that day forth to
church. " What," said he, " was it to him 1 were we not all
brethren?" Old Perkins, however, kei>t religiously to the S(iuare-
toes congregation. Li fact, to tell the trutii, tliis subject had been
debated between the jjartners, who saw the a<lvantnge of courting
both the Establishment and the l)i.ssenters — a nianu'uvre which, I
need not say, is rejteated in almost every country town in Englanii,
where a solicitor's house h;us this kind of p<nver and connection.
Three months after this election came the races at Oldborough,
and the race-ball. fJorgon was so infuriated by his defeat, that he
gave "the (}orgon <up ami cover," a matter of fifteen jMiunds.
Scully, "although anxiou.s," as lie wrote from town, "an.xious
beyond measure to j»re.serve the breed of horses for which our
lieloved country has ever been famous, could attend no such sports
;ls these, wliicii but too often degenerated into vice." It was voted
a shabby e.xcu.se. Lady Gorgon was radiant in her barouche and
four, and gladly became tiie jiatroni'ss of the ball that ^as to
ensue ; and which all the gentry and townspeojile, Tory and Whig,
were in the custom of attending. The ball took place on tlie li\st
day of the races. On that day, the walls of the market-house, the
])rincipal public ]iuildini,'s, and the "Gorgon Arms Hotel" itself,
Were jihistered witli the following —
" Letter from our distincjuished representative, William P. Scully,
Esquire, etc., etc.
"House of Commons: June\, 18 — .
"My dear Heeltap, — You know my opinion about horse
racing, and though I blame neither you nor any brother English
man who enjoys that manly sport, you will, I am sure, appreciate
the conscientious motives which induce me not to appear among
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 597
my friends and constituents on the festival of the 3rd, 4th, and 5th
instant. If /, however, cannot allow my name to appear among
your list of stewards, one at least of the representatives of Old-
borough has no such scruples. Sir George Gorgon is among you :
and though I (lifter from that honouralile Baronet on more than
one vital point, I am glad to think that he is with you. A
gentleman, a soldier, a man of property in the county, how can
he be better employed than in forwarding the county's amuse-
ments, and in forwarding the happiness of all ?
" Had I no such scruples as those to which I have just alluded,
I must still have refrained from coming among you. Your great
Oldborough common-drainage and enclosure hill comes on to-morrow,
and I shall be at my post. I am sure, if Sir George Gorgon were
here, he and I should on this occasion vote side by side, and that
party strife would be forgotten in the object of our common interest
— otir dear native town.
" There is, however, another occasion at hand, in which I shall
be proud to meet him. Your ball is on the night of the 6th.
Party forgotten — brotherly union — innocent mirth — beauty, okv
dear town's heauty, our daughters in the joy of their expanding
loveliness, our matrons in the exquisite contemplation of their
children's bliss — can you, can I, can Whig or Tory, can any Briton
be indifferent to a scene like this, or refuse to join in this heart-
stirring festival ? If there be such let them pardon me — I, for one,
my dear Heeltap, will be among you on Friday night — ay, and
hereby invite all pretty Tory Misses, who are in want of a
partner.
" I am here in the very midst of good things, you know, and
we old folks like a supjm- after a dance. Please to accept a brace
of bucks and a turtle, which come herewith. My worthy colleague,
who was so liberal last year of his soup to the ]ioor, will not, I
trust, refuse to taste a little of Alderman Birch's — 'tis offered on
my part with hearty goodwill. Hey for the 6th, and vive la joie !
—Ever, my dear Heeltap, your faithful W. Pitt Scully.
« p^S. — Of course this letter is strictly private. Say that the
venison, &c., came from a well-tvisher to Oldborough."
a
This amazing letter was published, in defiance of Mr. Scully's
injunctions, by the enthusiastic Heeltap, who said bluntly, in a
preface, " that he saw no reason why Mr. Scully should be ashamed
of his action, and he, for his part, was glad to let all friends at
Oldborough know of it."
The allusion about the Gorgon soup was killing: thirteen
598 THE BEDFORD-ROAV CONSPIRACY
paupers in Oldborough had, it was confidently asserted, died of it.
Lady Gorgon, on the reading of this letter, Avas struck completely
dumb ; Sir George Gorgon was wild. Ten dozen of champagne was
he obliged to send down to the "Gorgon Arms," to be added to
the festival. He would have stayed away if he could, but he
dared not.
At nine o'clock, he in general's uniform ; his wife in blue satin
and diamonds ; his daughters in l)lue crape and white roses ; his
niece, Lucy Gorgon, in white muslin ; his .son, George Augustus
Frederick Grimsby Gorgon, in a blue velvet jacket, sugar-loaf
buttons, and nank('en.s, entered the north door of the ballroom, to
nuich cheering, ami the sound of " God save the King ! "
At that very same moment, and from the south door, issued
William Pitt Scully, Esquire, M.P., and his staff. Mr. Scully had
a brand-new blue coat and l)rass buttons, buff waistcoat, white kersey-
mere tights, pumps with large rosettes, and pink .silk stockings.
"This wool," said he to a friend, "wa.s grown on Oldborough
sheep, this cloth was spun in Oldborough looms, these buttons Mere
cast in an Oldborough manufart(jry, these shoes were made by an
Oldborough tradesman, tliis heart first beat in Oldborough town,
and pray Heaven may lie buried there ! "
Could anything resist a man like this ? John Perkins, wljo had
conic down as one of Scully's aides-de-cam]), in a fit of generous
enthusiasm, leaped on a wiiist-table, Huiil' up a pocket-handkerchief,
and shrieked — " Scully for ever ! '
Heeltaj), who was generally drunk, fairly burst into tears, and
tlie grave tradesmen and Wliig gentry, who had dined with the
Memlier at his iini, and accompanied him thence to the " Gorgon
Ai'ins," lifted their deep voices and .shouted, "Hear!" "Good!"
" Rnivo ! " " Noble ! " " Scully for ever ! " " God bless him ! " and
" Hurrah ! "
The scene wtis tumultuously affecting ; and when young Perkins
sprang down from the table and came blushing up to the Member,
that gentleman said, " Thank you. Jack ! thank you, my Ixiy !
THANK you," in a way which niade Perkins think that his sujireme
cup of bli.ss was quafied ; that he had but to die : for that life had
no other such joy in store for him. Scully was Perkins's Napoleon
— he yielded him.self up to the attorney, body and soul.
Whilst this scene was going on under one chandelier of the ball-
room, beneath the other scarlet little General Gorgon, sumptuous
Lady Gorgon, the daughters and niece Gorgons, were stamling sur-
rounded by their Tory court, who atlccted to sneer and titter at the
Whig demonstrations which were taking place.
" What a howwid thmell of whithkey ! " lisped Cornet Fitch, of
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 599
the Dnii^oons, to Miss Lucy, confidentially. " And tliethe are what
they call Whigth, are they 1 He ! he ! "
" They are drunk, ■ me — drunk, by ! " said the General
to the Mayor.
" Which is Scully 1 " said Lady Gorgon, lifting her glass gravely
(she was at that very moment thinking of the syllabubs). " Is it
that tipsy man in the green coat, or that vulgar creature in the
blue one % "
" Law, my Lady," said the Mayoress, " have you forgotten him %
Why, that's him in blue and buff."
" And a monthous fine man, too," said Cornet Fitch. " I wish
we had him in our twoop — he'th thix feet thwee, if he'th an inch ;
ain't he, Genewal 1 "
No reply.
" And heavens ! mamma," shrieked the three Gorgons in a breath,
" see, one creature is on the whist-tal)Ie. Oh, the wretch ! "
" I'm sure he's very good-looking," said Lucy simi)ly.
Lady Gorgon darted at her an angry look, and was aliout to say
something very contemptuous, when, at that instant, John Perkins's
shout taking effect. Master George Augustus Frederick Grimsby
Gorgon, not knowing better, incontinently raised a small shout on
his side.
" Hear ! good ! bravo ! " exclaimed he ; " Scully for ever !
Hurra-a-a-ay ! " and fell skii)ping about like the Whigs opjiosite.
" Silence, you brute you ! " groaned Lady Gorgon ; and seizing
him by the shirt-frill and coat-collar, carried liim away to his nurse,
who, with many other maids of the Whig and Tory parties, stood
giggling and peeping at the landing-place.
Fancy how all these small incidents augmented the heap of Lady
Gorgon's anger and injuries ! She was a dull phlegmatic woman for
the most part, and contented herself generally with merely despising
her neighbours ; but oh ! what a fine active hatred raged in her
bosom for victorious Scully ! At this moment Mr. Perkins had
finished shaking hands with his Napoleon— Napoleon seemed bent
upon some tremendous enterprise. He was looking at Lady Gorgon
very hard.
" She's a fine woman," said Scully thoughtfully ; he was still
holding the hand of Perkins. And then, after a pause, " Gad ! I
think I'll try. '
"Try what, sirT'
" She's a deuced fine woman ! " burst out again the tender
solicitor. " I u'ill go. Springer, tell the fiddlers to strike up."
Springer scuttled across the room, and gave the leader of the
band a knowing nod. Suddenly, " God save the King " ceased, and
6oo THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
" Sir Roscr de Coverley " began. Tlie rival forces eyed each other ;
Mr. Sinilly, accompanied by his friend, came forward, looking very
red, and fumbling two large kid gloves.
" He's fioing to ask me to dance" hissed out Lady Gorgon, with
a dreadful intuition, and she drew back behind her lord.
" D it, madam, then dance with him ! " said the General.
" Don't you see that the scoundrel is carrying it all his own way !
him ! and him ! and him ! " (All of whicli dashes
the reader may fill up with oaths of such strength as may be
requisite.)
" General ! " cried Lady Gorgon, but could say no more. Scully
was before her.
" Madam ! " exclaimed the Liberal Member for Oldborough, " in
a moment like this — I say — that is — that on the present occasion — •
your Ladyship — unaccustomed as I am — pooh, psha — will your
Ladyship give mc the distinguished honour and pleasure of going
down the country -dance with your Ladyship ? "
An immense heave of her Ladyship's ample chest was per-
ceptible. Yards of blond lace, whicli might be compared to a
foam of the sea, were agitated at the same moment, and by the
same mighty emotion. The river of diamonds which flowed round
her Ladysliiji's neck, seemed to swell and to shine more than ever.
The tall plumes on her ambrosial head bowed down beneath the
storm. Li other words. Lady Gorgon, in a furious rage, which
she was compelled to restrain, trembled, drew^ up, and bowing
majestically, said —
"Sir, I shall have much pleasure." With this, she extended
her hand. Scully, trembling, thrust forward one of his huge kid-
gloves, and led her to tlie head of the country-daiice. John Perkins
— who I presume had been drinking pretty freely, so as to have
forgotten his ordinary bashfulness — looked at the three Gorgons in
blue, then at the pretty smiling one in white, and stepping up to
her, witliout the smallest hesitation, asked her if she would dance
with him. The young lady smilingly agreed. The great example
of Scully and Lady Gorgon was followed by all dancing men and
women. Politii-al ennuties were forgotten. Whig voters invited
Tory voters' wives to the dance. The daughters of Reform accepted
the hands of the sons of Conservatism. The reconciliation of the
Romans and Sabines was not more touching than this sweet fusion.
Whack — whack ! Mr. Springer chipped his hands ; and the fiddlers
adroitly obeying the cheerful signal, began playing " Sir Roger de
Coverley " louder than ever.
I do not know by what extraordinary charm {nescio qua proiter
solitum, &c.), but young Perkins, who all his life had hated country-
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 6oi
fiances, was dpli^litod witli tliis one, and skij)ped and lanulu'il, [>ous-
setting, crossing, down-the-niiddling, with his merry little partner,
till every one of the bettermost sort of the thirty-nine couples had
dropped panting away, and till the youngest Miss Gorgon, coming
UJ1 to his partner, said in a loud hissing scornfid whispier, " Lucy,
mamma thinks you have danced quite enough with this — this
person." And Lucy, ])lushing, starting l)ack, and looking at Perkins
in a very melancholy way, made him a little curtsey, and went off
to the Gorgonian party with her cousin. Perkins was too frightened
to lead her back to her place — too frightened at first, and then too
angry. " Person ! " said he : his soul swelled with a desperate re-
publicanism : he went back to his patron more of a Radical than
ever.
He found that gentleman in the solitary tea-room, pacing up
and down before the observant landlady and handmaidens of the
"Gorgon Arms," wiping his brows, gnawing his fingers— his ears
looming over his stiff white shirt-collar as red as fire. Once more
the great man seized John Perkins's hand as the latter came up.
" D the aristocrats ! " roared the ex-follower of Squaretoes.
"And so say I ! but what's the matter, sir?"
"What's the matter? — Why, that woman — that infernal,
havighty, straitlaced, cold-blooded brewer's daughter ! I loved that
woman, sir — I kissed tliat woman, sir, twenty years ago : we were
all but engaged, sir : we've walked for hours and hours, sir- — us
and the governess — Pve got a lock of her hair, sir, among my papers
now ; and to-night, would you believe it ? — as soon as she got to
the bottom of the set, away she went — not one word would she
speak to me all the way down : and when I wanted to lead her
to her place, and asked her if she would have a glass of negus, ' Sir,'
says she, ' I have done my duty ; I bear no malice : but I consider
you a traitor to Sir George Gorgon's family — a traitor and an
upstart ! I consider your speaking to me as a piece of insolent
vulgarity, and beg you will leave me to myself ! ' There's her
speech, sir. Twenty people heard it, and all of her Tory set too.
Pll tell you what. Jack : at the next election I'll put you up. Oh
that woman ! that woman ! — and to think that I love her still ! "
Here Mr. Scully paused, and fiercely consoled himself by swallow-
ing three cups of Mrs. Rincer's green tea.
The act is, that Lady Gorgon's passion had completely got the
better ot her reason. Her Ladyship was naturally cold, and
artificially extremely squeamish ; and when this great red-faced
enemy of hers looked tenderly at her through his red little eyes,
and squeezed her hand and attempted to renew old acquaintance,
she felt such an intolerable disgust at his triumph, at his familiarity,
21
6o2 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
and at the remembrance of her own former liking for him, that she
gave utterance to the speech above correctly reported. The Tories
were delighted with her spirit, and Cornet Fitch, with much glee,
told the story to the General ; but that oiEcer, wdio was at whist
with some of his friends, flung down his cards, and coming up to his
lady, said briefly —
" Madam, you are a fool ! "
" I will 7iot stay here to be bearded by that disgusting man ! —
Mr. Fitch, call my people. — Henrietta, bring ]\Iiss Lucy from that
linendraper with whom she is dancing. I will not stay, General,
once for all."
Henrietta ran — she hated her cousin : Cornet Fitch was depart-
ing. "Stop, Fitch," said Sir George, seizing him by the arm.
" You are a fool. Lady Gorgon," said he, " and I repeat it — a
fool ! This fellow Scully is carrying all before him : he has talked
■with everybody, laughed with everybody — and you, with yoiu:
infernal airs — a browser's daughter, by , must sit like a queen
and not speak to a soul ! You've lost me one seat of my borough,
with your infernal pride — fifteen hundred a year, by Jove ! — ami
you think you will bully me out of another. No, madam, you
shall stay, and stay supper too ; — and the girls shall dance with
every cursed chimney-sweep and butcher in the room : they shall —
confound me ! "
Her Ladyship saw that it was necessary to submit ; and Mr.
Springer, the master of the ceremonies, was called, and requested
to point out some eligible partners for tlie young laclies. One w^ent
off" with a Whig auctioneer ; another figured in a quadrille with a
very Liberal apothecary ; and tlie third. Miss Henrietta, remained.
" Hallo you, sir ! " roared the little General to John Perkins,
who wa.s passing by. John turned round and faced him.
" You were dancing with my niece just now — show us your skill
now, and dance witii one of my daughters. Stand up. Miss
Henrietta Gorgon — Mr. What's-your-name "? "
" My name," said John, with niarked and majestic emphasis,
" is Perkins." And he looked towards Lucy, who dared not look
again.
"Miss Gorgon — Mr. Perkins. There, now go and dance."
"Mr. Perkins regrets, madam," said John, making a bow to
Miss Henrietta, " that he is not able to dance this evening. I am
this moment obliged to look to the supper : but you will find, no
doubt, some other person who will have nuich pleasure."
"Go to , sir ! " screamed the General, starting up, and
shaking his cane.
''Calm yourself, dearest George," said Lady Gorgon, clinging
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 603
fondly to him. Fitch twiddled liis raou.staches. Miss Henrietta
Gorgon stared with open month. The silks of the surrounding
dowagers rustled — the countenances of all looked grave.
" I will follow you, sir, wherever you iilease ; and you may
hear of me whenever you like," said Mr. Perkins, bowing and
retiring. He heard little Lucy sobbing in a corner. He was
lost at once — lost in love ; he felt as if he could combat fifty
generals ! he never was so happy in his life. '
The supper came ; but as that meal cost five shillings a head.
General Gorgon dismissed the four spinsters of his family homewards
in the carriage, and so saved himself a pound. This added to Jack
Perkins's wrath ; he had hoped to have seen Miss Lucy once more.
He was a steward, and, in the General's teeth, would have done his
duty. He was thinking how he woidd have helped her to the most
delicate chicken-wings and blancmanges, how he would have made
her take cham])agne. Under the noses of indignant aunt and uncle,
what glorious fun it would have been !
Out of place as Mr. Scidly's present was, and though Lady
Gorgon and her party sneeretl at the vulgar notion of venison and
turtle for supper, all the world at Oldborough ate very greedily of
those two substantial dishes ; and the Mayor's wife became from
that day forth a mortal enemy of the Gorgons : for, sitting near her
Ladyship, who refused the i)rnffcred soup and meat, the Mayoress
thought herself obliged to follow this disagreeable example. She
sent away the plate of turtle with a sigh, saying, however, to the
baronet's lady, " I thought, mem, that the Lord Mayor of London
always had turtle to .his supper 1 "
" And what if he didn't, Biddy 1 " said his Honour the Mayor ;
" a good thing's a good thing, and here goes ! " wherewith he ])lunged
his spoon into the savoury mess. The Mayoress, as we have said,
dared not ; but she hated Lady Gorgon, and remembered it at the
next election.
The pride, in fact, and insolence of the Gorgon party rendered
every person in the room hostile to them ; so soon as, gorged with
meat, they began to find that courage which Britons invariably
derive from their victuals. The show of the Gorgon plate seemed
to offend the people. The Gorgon champagne was a long time, too,
in making its appearance. Arrive, however, it did. The people
were waiting for it ; the young ladies, not accustomed to that drink,
declined pledging their admirers until it w^as produced ; the men,
too, despised the bucellas and sherry, and were looking continually
towards the door. At last, Mr. Rincer, t)lie landlord, Mr. Hock,
Sir George's butler, and sundry others entered the room. Bang !
went the corks — fizz the foamy liquor sparkled into all sorts of
6o4 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
glasses that were held out for its reception. Mr. Hock helped Sir
George and his jjarty, who drank with great gusto ; the wine which
was administered to the persons immediately around Mr. Scully
was likewise pronounced to be good. But Mr. Perkins, who had
taken his seat among the humbler individuals, and in the very
middle of the table, observed that all these persons, after drinking,
made to each other very wry and ominous faces, and whispered
nnich. He tasted his wine : it was a villainous compound of sugar,
vitriol, soda-water, and green gooseberries. At this moment a great
clatter of forks was made by the president's and vice-president's
party. Silence for a toast — 'twas silence all.
" Landlord," said Mr. Perkins, starting up (the rogue, where
did his impudence come from 1) " have you any champagne of
1/our own ? "
" Silence ! down ! " roared the Tories, the ladies looking aghast.
" Silence, sit down you ! " shrieked the well-known voice of the
General.
" I beg your pardon. General," said young John Perkins ; " but
where could you have bought this champagne 1 My worthy friend
I know is going to propose the ladies ; let us at any rate drink such
a toa-st in good wine." (" Hear, hear ! ") " Drink her Ladyship's
health in this stuff? I declare to goodness I would sooner drink it
in beer ! "
No pen can describe the uproar which arose : the anguish of
the Gorgonites — the shrieks, jeers, cheers, ironic cries of " Swipes ! "
&c., which proceeded from the less genteel but more enthusiastic
Scullyites.
"This vulgarity is too much," said Lady Gorgon^ rising; and
Mrs. Mayoress and the ladies of the party did so too.
The General, two squires, the clergyman, the Gorgon apothecary
and attorney, with their respective ladies, followed her : they were
plainly beaten from the field. Such of the Tories as dared remained,
and in inglorious compromise shared the jovial Whig feast.
"Gentlemen and ladies," hiccoughed Mr. Heeltap, "I'll give
you a toast. ' Champagne to our real — hie — friends,' no, ' Real
champagne to our friends,' and — hie — pooh ! ' Champagne to our
friends, and real pain to our enemies,' — huzzay ! "
The Scully faction on this day bore the victory away, and if the
polite reader has been shocked by certain vulgarities on the part
of Mr. Scully and his friends, he must remember imprimis that
Oldborough was an inconsiderable place — that the inhabitants thereof
were chiefly tradespeftple, not of refined habits — that Mr. Scully
himself had only for three months mingled among the aristocracy —
that his young friend Perkins was violently angry — and finally, and
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 605
to conclude, that tlie proud vulgarity of the great Sir George Gorgon
and his family was infinitely more odious and contemptible than
the mean vulgarity of the Scullyites and their leader.
Immediately after this event, Mr. Scully and his young friend
Perkins returned to town ; the latter to his garrets in Bedford Row
— the former to his apartments on the first floor of the same house.
He lived here to superintend his legal business : his London agents,
Messrs. Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick, occupying the ground floor ;
the junior partner, Mr. Gustavus Blatherwick, the second flat of
the house. Scully made no secret of his pi'ofession or residence : he
was an attorney, and {)roud of it ; he was the grandson of a labourer,
and thanked God for it ; he had made his fortune by his own honest
labour, and why should he be ashamed of it 1
And now, having explained at full leugtli wdio the sevei-;d heroes
and heroines of this history were, and how they conducted tlu'm-
selves in the country, let us describe their behaviour in London, and
the great events which occurred there.
You must know that Mr. Perkins bore away the tenderest re-
collections of the young lady with whom he had danced at the
Oldborough ball, and, having taken ])articular care to find out where
she dwelt when in the metropolis, managed soon to become acquainted
with Aunt Biggs, and made himself so amiable to that lady, that
she begged he would pass all his disengaged evenings at her lodgings
in Caroline Place. Mrs. Biggs was perfectly aware that the young
gentleman did not come for her bohea and mulfins, so much as for
the sweeter conversation of her niece, Miss Gorgon ; but seeing that
these two young people were of an age when ideas of love and
marriage will spring up, do what you will ; seeing that her niece
had a fortune, and Mr. Perkins had the prospect of a place, and
was moreover a very amiable and well-disposed young fellow, she
thought her niece could not do better than marry him ; and Miss
Gorg'on thought so too. Now the public will be able to understand
the meaning of that important conversation which is recorded at the
very commencement of this history.
Lady Gorgon and her family were likewise in town ; but, wlien
in the metropolis, they never took notice of their relative, Miss
Lucy: the idea of acknowledging an ex-schoolmistress living in
Mecklenburgh Square being much too preposterous for a person of
my Lady Gorgon's breeding and fashion. She did not, therefore,
know of the progress which sly Perkins was making all this while ;
for Lucy Gorgon did not think it was at all necessary to inform her
Ladyship how deeply she was smitten by the wicked young gentle-
man who had made all the disturbance at the Oldborough ball.
The intimacy of these young persons had, in fact, become so
6o6 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
close, that on a certain sunshiny Sunday in December, after having
accompanied Aunt Biggs to church, they had pursued their walk
as far as that rendezvous of lovers, the Regent's Park, and were
talking of their coming marriage, with much confidential tenderness,
before the bears in the Zoological Gardens.
Miss Lucy was ever and anon feeding those interesting animals
with buns, to perform which act of charity she had clambered up
on tlie parapet wliich surrounds their den. Mr. Perkins was below ;
and Miss Lucy, having distributed her buns, was on the point of
following, — but whether from timidity, or whether from a desire
to d(j young Perkins an essential service, I know not : however,
she found herself quite imwilling to jump down unaided.
" My dearest John," said she, " I never can jump that."
Whereujjon John stepped up, put one hand round Lucy's waist ;
and as one of hers gently fell upon his shoulder, Mr. Perkins took
the other and said —
" Now jump."
Hoop ! jump she did, and so excessively active and clever was
Mr. John Perkins, that he jumped Miss Lucy plump into the middle
of a group formed of —
Lady Gorgon ;
The Misses Gorgon ;
Master George Augustus Frederick Grimsby Gorgon ;
And a footman, juiodle, and French governess; who had all
been for two or three minutes listening to the billings and cooings
of these imprudent young lovers.
CHAPTER II
SHOWS HOJF THE PLOT BEGAN TO THICKEN IN OR
ABOUT BEDFORD ROIF
MISS Lucy ! "
" Upon my word ! "
" I'm hanged if it aren't Lncy ! How do, Lucy," uttered
Lady, the Misses, and Master Gorgon in a lireath.
Lucy came forward, bending down her ambrosial curls, and
bhishing, as a modest young woman should : for, in truth, the
scrape was very awkward. And as for John Perkins, he made a
start, and then a step forwards, and then two backwards, and then
began laying hands upon his black satin stock — in short, the sun did
not shine at that moment upon a man who looked so exquisitely
foolish.
"Miss Lucy Gorgon, is your aunt — is Mrs. Briggs here?" said
Lady Gorgon, drawing herself uji with much state.
"Mrs. Biggs, auntV said Lucy demurely.
" Biggs or Briggs, madam, it is not of the slightest consequence.
I presume that persons in my rank of life are not expected to know
everybody's name in Magdeburg Square?" (Lady Gorgon had a
house in Baker Street, and a dismal house it was.) ^'' Not here,"
continued she, rightly interpreting Lucy's silence, "not here? — and
may I ask how long is it that young ladies have been allowed to
walk abroad without chaperons, and to — to take a part in such scenes
as that Avhich we have just seen acted 1 "
To this question — and indeed it was rather difficult to answer —
Miss Gorgon had no reply. There were the six grey eyes of her
cousins glowering at her ; there was George Augustus Frederick
examining her with an air of extreme wonder. Mademoiselle the
governess turning her looks demurely away, and awful Lady Gorgon
glancing fiercely at her in front. Not mentioning the footman and
poodle, what could a poor modest timid girl plead before such an
inquisition, especially when she was clearly guilty 1 Add to this,
that as Lady Gorgon, that majestic woman, always remarkable for
her size and insolence of demeanour, had planted herself in the
middle of the path, and spoke at the extreme pitch of her voice,
6o8 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
many persons walking in the neighbourhood had heard her Lady-
ship's si)eech and stopped, and seemed disposed to await the
rejoinder.
" For Heaven's sake, aunt, don't draw a crowd around us," said
Lucy, who, indeed, was glad of the only escai)e that lay in her
power. " I will tell you of the — of the circumstances of— of my
engagement witli this gentleman — with Mr. Perkins," added she, in
a softer tone — so soft that the 'erkins was quite inaudible.
"A Mr. What? An engagement without consulting your
guardians ! " screamed her Ladyship. " This nmst be looked to !
Jerningham, caH round my carnage. Mademoiselle, you will have
the goodness to walk home with Master Gorgon, and carry him, if
you please, where there is wet ; and, girls, a.s the day is tine, you
will <lo likewise. Jerniugham, you will attend the young ladies.
Miss Gorgon, I will thank you to follow me immediately." And so
.saying, and looking at the cnjwd with ineffable scum, and at Mr.
Perkins not at all, the lady bustled away forwards, the tiles of
Gorgon daughtere antl governess closing round and enveloping poor
Lucy, who found herself carried forward ag-.iinst her will, and in a
minute seated in her aunt's coach, along with that tremendous
l)ersou.
Her case was bail enough, but what wa.s it to Perkins's? Fancy
his Idank siirprise and nige at having his love thus suddenly ravished
from liini, and his delicious ti'tt-a-ti'te interrupt«'d. He niaiiagetl, in
an ineonceivably short spiu-e of time, to eonjure up half-a million
obstacles to his union. What should he do? he would rush on to
Baker Street, and wait khere until his Lucy left Lady Gorgon's
house.
He could lintl no vehicle in the Regent's Park, and was in con-
sequence obliged to make his journey on foot.. Of course, he nearly
killed himself with running, and ran so (|uick, that he was just in
time to .see the two ladies step out of Lady Gorgon's carriage at her
own house, and to hear Jeniingham's fellow-footman roar to the
Gorgonian coachman, '* Half-jia.st seven ! " at which hour, we are, to
this day, convinced that La<ly Goriron was going out to dine. Mr.
Jerningliams a.ssociate having banged to the door, with an insolent
look towards Perkins, who wjis prying in with the most suspicious
and indecent curiosity, retired, exclaiming, " That chap luus a hi to
our greatcoats, I reckon ! " and left John Perkins to pace the street
and be miserable.
John Perkins then walked resolutely up and down dismal Baker
Street, deterniined on an cchjircisseuienf. He was for some time
occupied in thinking how it was that the Gorgons were not at
church, they who made such a parade of piety ; and John Perkins
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 609
smiled as he passed the chapel^ and saw that two charifj/ senuoiiH
were to be preached that day — and therefore it was that General
Gorgon read prayers to his fixmily at home in the morning.
Perkins, at last, saw that little General, in blue frock-coat and
sjiotless buff gloves, saunter scowling home ; and half-an-hour before
his arrival had witnessed the entrance of Jerningham, and the three
ga\uit Miss Gorgons, poodle, son-and-heir, and French governess, pro-
tected by him, into Sir George's mansion.
" Can she be going to stay all night 1 " mused poor John, after
being on the watcli for three hours: "that footman is the only
l)erson who has left the house : " when presently, to his inexpressible
delight, he saw a very dirty hackney-coach clatter up to the Gorgon
door, out of which first issued the ruby plush breeclies and stalwart
calves of Mr. Jeniingham ; these were followed by his body, and
then the gentleman, ringing modestly, was admitted.
Again the door opened : a lady came out, nor was she followed
by the footman, who crossed his legs at the door-post and allowed
her to mount the jingling vehicle as best she might. Mr. Jerning-
ham had witnessed the scene in the Park Gardens, had listened to
the altercation through the libi-ary keyhole, and had been mighty
sulky at being ordered to call a coach for this young woman: He
did not therefore deign to assist her to mount.
But there was one who did ! Perkins was by the side of his
Lucy : he had seen her start back and cry, " La, John ! " — had felt
her squeeze his arm — had mounted with her into the coach, and
then shouted with a voice of thunder to the coachman, " CaroHne
Pkice, Mecklenburgh Square."
But Mr. Jerningham would have been much more surprised and
puzzled if he had waited one minute longer, and seen this Mr.
Perkins, Avho had so gallantly escaladed the hackney-coach, step
out of it with the most mortified, miserable, chapfallen counte-
nance possible.
The fact is, he had found poor Lucy sobbing fit to break her
heart, and instead of consoling her, as he expected, he only seemed
to irritate her fui'ther : for she said, " Mr. Perkins— I beg— I insist,
that you leave the carriage." And when Perkins made some move-
ment (which, not being in the vehicle at the time, we have never
been able to comprehend), she suddenly sprang from the back-seat
and began pulling at a large piece of cord which comnumicated with
the wrist of the gentleman driving ; and, screaming to him at the
top of her voice, bade him immediately stop.
This Mr. Coachman did, with a curious, puzzled, grinning air.
Perkins descended, and on being asked, "Vere ham I to drive
the voung 'oman, sir ? " I am sorry to say muttered something like
6io THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
an oatli, and uttered the above-mentioned words, " Caroline Place,
Mecklenbiirgh S<|nare," in a tone which I should be inclined to
describe as both dogged and sheepish — very different from that
cheery voice which he had used when he first gave the order.
Poor Lucy, in the course of those fatal three hours which had
passed while Mr. Perkins was pacing up and down Baker Street,
had received a lecture which lasted exactly one hundred and eighty
minutes — from her aunt first, then from her uncle, whom we have
seen marching homewards, and often from both together.
Sir (reorge Gorgon and his lady poured out such a flood of
advice and abuse against the poor girl, tliat she came away from
the interview quite timid and cowering ; and when she saw John
Perkins (the sly rogue ! how well he thought he had managed
the trick I) she shrank from him as if he had been a demon of
wickedness, ordered him out of the carriage, and went home by
herself, convinced that she had committed some tremendous sin.
While, then, her coach jingled away to Caroline Place, Perkins,
once more alone, bent his steps in tlie same direction. A desperate,
heart-stricken man, he passed by the beloved's door, saw lights in
the front drawing-room, felt probably that she w;\.s there ; but he
could not go in. Moodily he paced down Doughty Street, and
turning abruptly into Bedford Row, rusiied into his own chambers,
where Mrs. Snooks, the laundress, had prepared his humble Sabbath
meal.
A cheerful fire ])lazed in his garret, and Mrs. Snooks hail pre-
pared for him the favourite blade-bone he loved (blest foiu--days'
dinner for a bachelor — roast, cold, hashed, grilled blade-bone, the
fourth being better than the first) ; but although he usually di<l
rejoice in tliis meal — ordinarily, indeed, grunil)ling tliat there was
not enough to satisfy him — he, on this occasion, after two mouthfuls,
flung down his knife and fork, and buried his two claws in his hair.
"Snooks,'' said he at la.st, very moodily, "remove this d
mutton, give me my writing things, and some hot brandy-and-water."
This was done without much alarm : for you must know that
Perkins used to dablile in poetry, and ordinarily prepared himself
for composition by this kind of stimulus.
He wrote hastily a few lines.
" Snooks, put on your bonnet," said he, " and carry this — you
l-nmv irhere ! " he added, in a hollow, heart-breaking tone of voice,
that aff'ected poor Snooks almost to tears. She went, however, with
the note, which was to this purpose : —
" Lucy ! Lucy ! my soul's love — what, what luus happened ? I
am writing this" — (a gulj) of brandy-and-water) — "in a state
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 6ii
bordering on distraction — madness— insanity " {another). "Why-
did you send me out of the coach in that cruel, cruel way ? Write
to me a word, a line — tell me, tell me, I may come to you — and
leave me not in this agonising condition ; your faithful " {glog—glog
— glog the whole glass) J. p."
He never signed John Perkins in full — he couldn't, it was so
unromantic.
Well, this missive was despatched hy Mrs. Snooks, and Perkins,
in a fearful state of excitement, haggard, wild, and with more
brandy-and-water, awaited the return of his messenger.
When at length, after about an absence of forty years, as it
seemed to him, the old lady returned with a large packet, Perkins
seized it with a trem]>ling hand, and was yet more frightened to see
the handwriting of Mrs. or Miss Biggs.
"My dear Mr. Perkins," she began — "Although I am not
your soid's adored, I performed her part for once, since I have
read your letter, as I told her. You need not be very much
alarmed, although Lucy is at this moment in bed and unwell :
for the poor girl has had a sad scene at her grand uncle's house
in Baker Street, and came home very mucli affected. Rest,
however, will restore her, for she is not one of your nervous sort ;
and I hope when you come in the morning, you will see her as
blooming as she was when you went out to-day on that unlucky
walk.
" See what Sir George Gorgon says of us all ! You won't
challenge him, I know, as he is to be your uncle, and so I may
show you his letter.
" Good-night, my dear John. Do not go quite distracted before
morning ; and believe me your loving aunt, Jemima. Biggs."
" Baker Street : Uth December.
" Ma.tor-General Sir George Gorgon has heard with the
utmost disgust and surprise of the engagement which Miss Lucy
Gorgon has thought fit to form.
"The Major-General cannot conceal his indignation at tlie share
which Miss Biggs has taken in this disgraceful transaction.
" Sir George Gorgon i)uts an absolute veto upon all further
communication between his niece and tlie low-born adventurer who
had been admitted into her society, and begs to say that Lieutenant
Fitch, of the Lifeguards, is the gentleman who he intends shall
marry Miss Gorgon.
6i2 THE BEDFORD ROW CONSPIRACY
" It is the Major-General's wish, tiiat on the 28th Miss Gorgon
should be ready to come to his house, in Baker Street, where she
will bo more safe from impertinent intrusions than she has been in
Mucklebury Square.
"Mrs. Biggs,
" Caroline Place,
" Mecklenhurgh Square*
"When poor John Perkins read this epistle, blank rage and
wonder tilled his soul, at the audacity of the little General, who
thus, without the smallest title in the world, pretended to dispose
of the hand and fortune of his niece. Tlie fact is, that Sir George
had such a transcendent notion of liis own dignity and station, that
it never for a moment entered his head that his niece, or anybody
else connected with him, should take a single step in life without
jircviously receiving his orders ; and Mr. Fitch, a Itaronet's son,
having expressed an admiration of Lucy, Sir George had iletcrmiiied
that his suit should be accepted, and really considered Lucy's
preference of another a.s downright treason.
John Perkins determined im the death of Fitch as the very
least rej)aration that slmulil satisfy him ; antl vowed too that some
of the General's blood shoidd be shed for the words which he had
dared to utter.
We have said that William Pitt Scully, Esipiire, M.P., occupied
the first Hoor of jNIr. Perkins's liou.se in Bedford Row : and the
reader is further to be informed that an immense friendship hafl
sprung u]) between these two gentlemen. Tiie fact is, that ])o(>r
John w;us very nmch flattered by Scully's notice, and began in a
very short time to fancy himself a political personage ; for he had
miule several of Scully's speeches, written more than one letter from
him to his constituents, and. in a word, acted a.s his gnitis clerk.
At leiist a guinea a w«'ek diil Mr. Perkins save to the pockets of
Mr. Scully, and with hearty goodwill t(X), for he a<lored the great
William Pitt, and believed every word that dropjtcd from the
piiiMpous li])s of that gentleman.
\Vcll, after having discusse<l Sir George Gorgon's letter, poor
Perkins, in the utmost fury of mind that his darling should be
.slandered so, feeling a desire for fresh air, determined to descend to
the garden ami smoke a cigar in that rural <iuiet spot. The night
was very calm. The moonbeams slept softly \\\^n the herbage of
Gray's Inn gardens, and bathe<l with silver splendour Theobald's
Row. A million of little frisky twinkling stars attended their
queen, who looked with bland round face upon their gambols, as
they peeped in and out from the azure heavens. Along Gray's Inn
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 613
wall a lazy row of cabs stood listlessly, for wlio would call a cab on
such a nights Meanwhile their drivers, at the alehouse near,
smoked the short pipe or iiuafted the foaming beer. Perhai)s from
Gray's Inn Lane some broken sounds of Irish revelry might rise.
Issuing perhaps from Raymond Buildings gate, six lawyers' clerks
might whooj) a ti])sy song — or the loud watchman yell tlie passing
hour ; but beyond this all M'as silence ; and young Perkins, as he
sat in the siunmer-house at the bottom of the garden, and contem-
plated the peaceful heaven, felt some influences of it entering into
his soul, and almost forgetting revenge, thought but of peace and
love.
Presently, he was aware there was some one else pacing the
garden. Who could it be? — Not Blatherwick, for he passed the
Sabbath with his grandmamma at Clapham ; not Scully surely, for
he always went to Bethesda Chapel, and to a select prayer-meeting
afterwards. Alas ! it was Scully ; for though that gentleman said
•that he went to chapel, we liave it for a fact that he did not always
keep his ])romise, and was at this moment employed in rehearsing an
extem]tore speech, wliicli he projwsed to deliver at St. Stephen's.
" Had I, sir," spouted he, with folded arms, slowly pacing to
and fro — " Had I, sir, entertained tlie smallest possil»]e intention of
addressing the House on tlie i)resent occasion — hum, on the jnesent
occasion — I would liave endeavoured to prepare myself in a way
that .'should have at least shown my sense of tlie greatness of the
subject before the House's consideration, and the nature of the
distinguished audience I have tlie honous. to address. I am, sir, a
plain man — born of the jjcople — myself one of the people, having
won, thank Heaven, an honourable fortune and ])osition by my own
honest labom* ; and standing here as I do "
• • - • . • •
Here Mr. Scully (it may be said that he never made a speech
without bragging about himself: and an excellent i>lan it is, for
people cannot help believing you at last) — here, I say, Mr. Scully,
who had one arm raised, felt himself suddenly tipped on the shoulder,
and heard a voice saying, " Your money or your life ! "
The honourable gentleman twirled round as if he had been shot ;
the papers on M'hicli a great part of this impromptu was written
dropped fi-om liis lifted liand, and some of them were actually borne
on the air into neighbouring gardens. The man was, in fact, in the
direst fright.
" It's only I," said Perkins, with rather a forced laugh, when he
saw the effect that his wit had produced.
" Only you ! And pray what the dev what right have
you to — to come upon a man of my rank in that way, and disturb
6i4 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
me in the midst of very important meditations ? " asked Mr. Scully,
beginning to grow fierce.
" I want your advice," said Perkins, " on a matter of the very
greatest imi)ortanee to me. You know my idea of marrying I "
" Marry ! " said Scully ; "I thought you had given up that silly
scheme. And how, pray, do you intend to live ? "
"Why, my intended has a couple of luuidreds a year, and my
clerkship in the Tajjc and Sealing- Wax Othcc will be as much
more."
" Clerkship — Tape and Scaling-Wax Office — Government sine-
cure ! — Why, good heavens ! John Perkins, you don't tell me that
you are going \o accept any such thing 1 "
" It is a very small salary, certainly," said John, "who had a
decent notion of his own merits ; "but consider, six months' vaca-
tion, two hours in the day, and those spent over the newspapers.
After aU, it's "
" After all, it's a swindle," roared out I\Ir. Scully — " a swindle
upon the country ; an infanioiLs tax upon the jteople, who starve that
you may fatten in idleness. But take this clerkship in the Tape
and Sealing- Wax Office," continued the patriot, his bosom heaving
with noble indiuniation, and his eye Hashing the purest fire, — ^^ Take
this clerkship, John Perkins, and sanction tyranny, by becoming
one of its agents ; sanction dishonesty by sharing in its plunder —
do tins, BUT never more be friend of mine. Had I a child," said
the patriot, clasping his hands and raising his eyes to heaven, "I
would rather .see him ile^l, sir —dead, dead at my feet, than the
servant of a Govenunent which all honest men despise." And here,
giving a searching glance at Perkins, ]\Ir. Scully began tramping up
and ilown the ganlen in a perfect fury.
" Good heavens ! " exclaimed the timid John Perkins — " don't
say so. My dear Mr. Scully, I'm not the dishonest character you
suppose me to be — ^I never looked at the matter in this light. I'll
— Ill consider of It. Ill tell Cramiiton that I will give up the
l)lace ; but for Heaven's sake, don't let me forfeit your friendship,
which is dearer to me than any i)la(e in the world."
Mr. Scully pressed his hand, and said nothing ; and though their
interview lasted a lull half-hour longer, during which they paced up
and down the gravel walk, we shall not breathe a single syllable of
their conversation, as it has nothing to do with our tale.
The next morning, after an interview with Miss Lucy, John
Perkins, Esquire, was seen to issue from Mrs. Biggs's house, looking
particularly jiale, melancholy, and thouirhtful ; and he did not stop
until he reached a certain door in Downing Street, where was the
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 615
office of a certain great Minister, and the offices of the clerks in his
Lordship's department.
The head of them was Mr. Josiah Crampton, who has now to
be introduced to the public. He was a little old gentleman, some
sixty years of age, maternal uncle to John Perkins ; a bachelor, ■who
had been about forty -two years employed in the department of which
he was now the head.
After waiting four hours in an anteroom, where a number of
Irishmen, some newspai)er editors, many pompous-looking political
personages asking for the "first lord," a few sauntering clerks, and
numbers of swift active messengers passed to and fro ; — after waiting
for four hours, making drawings on the blotting-book, and reading
the Morning Post for that day week, Mr. Perkins was informed
that he might go into his uncle's room, and did so accordingly.
He found a little liard old gentleman seated at a table covered
with every variety of sealing-wax, blotting-paper, envelopes, despatch-
boxes, green tapers, &c. &c. An immense fire was blazing in the
grate, an immense sheet-almanack hung over tliat, a screen, three or
four chairs, and a faded Turkey carpet, formed the rest of the furni-
ture of this remarkable room — which I have described thus par-
ticularly, because, in the course of a hjng official life, I have remarked
that such is the invariable decoration of political rooms.
"Well, John," said the little hard old gentleman, pointing to
an arm-chair, " I'm told you've been here since eleven. Why the
deuce do you come so early 1 "
" I had important business," answered Mr. Perkins stoutly ;
and as his uncle looked up with a comical expression of wonder,
John began in a solemn tone to deliver a little speech which he had
composed, and which proved him to be a very worthy, easy, silly
fellow.
" Sir," said Mr. Perkins, " you have known for some time past
the nature of my political opinions, and tlie intimacy which I have
had the honovu- to form with one — with some of the leading members
of the Liberal party." (A grin fi-om Mr. Crampton.) "When
first, by your kindness, I was promised the clerkship in the Tape
and Sealing-Wax Office, my opinions were not formed as they are
now ; and liaving taken the advice of the gentlemen with whom I
act" — (an enormous grin) — "the advice, I say, of the gentlemen
with whom I act, and the counsel likewise of my o\Am conscience, I
am compelled, with the deepest grief, to say, my dear uncle, that
I— I "
" That you — what, sir 1 " exclaimed little Mr. Crampton, bounc-
ing ofi" his chair. " You don't mean to say that you are such a fooj
as to decline the place 1 "
6i6 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
" I do decline the place," said Perkins, whose blood rose at the
word "fool." "As a man of honour, I cannot take it."
" Not take it ! and how are you to live 1 On the rent of that
house of yours 1 For, by gad, sir, if you give up the clerkship, I
never will give you a shilling."
" It cannot be helped," said Mr. Perkins, looking as much like
a martyr as he possibly could, and thinking himself a very fine
fellow. '■' I have talents, sir, which I hope to cultivate ; and am
member of a profession by which a man may hope to rise to the
very highest offices of the State."
" Profession, talents, offices of the State ! Are you mad, John
Perkins, that you come to me with such insutierable twaddle as
this ? Why, do you think if you had been capable of rising at the
bar, I would have taken so much trduble about getting you a place?
No, sir ; you are tito fond of pleasure, and bed, and tea-parties, and
small-talk, and rea<liug novels, and i)laying the flute, and writing
sonnets. You would no more rise at the bar than my messenger,
sir. It was because I knew your dis])osition — that hojielcss, care-
less, incsnlute goud-huniuur of yours that I had determined to
keep you out of danger, by placing you in a snug shelter, where the
storms of the M'orld woidd not come near you. You umst have
l)riiiciples forsooth ! and you must marry Miss (rorgon, of course ;
and by the time you have gone ten circuits, and had six children,
you will have eaten up every shilling of your wife's fortune, and be
as briefless as you arc now. Who the deuce has put all this
nonsense into your head? I think I know."
Mr. Perkins's eurs tingled as these hard words saluted them ;
and he scarcely knew whether he ought to knock his inicle down, or
fall at his feet and say, "Uncle, I have been a fool, and I know it."
The fact is, that in his interview with Miss Gorgon and her aunt in
the morning, when he came to tell them of the resolution he had
fornu'(l to give up the place, both the ladies and John himself had
agreed, with a thousand ra|)turous teai-s and e.Yclamations, that he
was one of the nol)lest young men that ever lived, had acted as
became himself, and might with perfect projiricty give up the place,
his talents being so ])rodiLrious that no i)ower on earth could hinder
him from being Lord Chancellor. Indeed, John and Lucy had
always thought the clerkship quite beneath him, and were, not a
little glad, jierhaps, at finding a pretext for decently refusing it.
But ;is Perkins was a young gentleman whose candour was such
that he was always swayed by the opinions of the last speaker, he
did liegin to feel now the truth of his uncle's statements, however
disagreeable they might be.
Mr. Cramptou continued : —
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 617
" I think I know the cause of your i)atrioti,sni. Has not William
Pitt Scully, Es([uire, had something to do with it 1 "
Mr. Perkins could not turn any redder than he was, but con-
fessed with deep humiliation that "he had consulted Mr. Scully
among other friends."
Mr. Crampton smiled — drew a letter from a heap before him,
and tearing oft" tlie signature, handed over the document to his
nej)hew. It contained the following iiaragraphs : —
" Hawksby has sounded Scully : we can have him any day we
want him. He talks very big at present, and says he would not
take anything under a . . . This is absurd. He has a Yorkshire
nephew coming up to town, and wants a place for him. There is one
vacant in the Tape Oftice, he says : have you not a promise of it ? "
" I can't — I can't believe it," said John ; " this, sir, is some
weak invention of the enemy. Scully is the most honourable man
breathing."
" Mr. Scully is a gentleman in a very feir way to make a
fortune," answered Mr. Crampton. " Look you, John — it is just
as well for your sake that I should give you the news a few weeks
before the papers, for I don't want you to be ruined, if I can help
it, as I don't wish to have you on my hands. We know all tlie
l)articulars of Scully's history. He was a Tory attorney at Oltb
borough ; he was jilted by the present Lady Gorgon, turned Radical,
and fought Sir George in his own borough. Sir George would have
had the peerage he is dying for, had lie not lost that second seat
(by-the-bye, my Lady Avill be here in five minutes), and Scully is
now quite firm there. Well, my dear lad, we have bought your
incorruptible Scully. Look here," — and Mr. Crampton produced
three Morning Posts.
'"The Honourable Henry Haw^ksby's Dinner-Party. —
Lord So-an<l-So~Duke of So-and-So— W. Pitt Scully, Esq., M.P.'
"Hawksby is our neutral, our dinner-giver.
"'Lady Diana Doldrum's Rout. — W. Pitt Scully, Esq.,'
again.
" ' The Earl of Mantrap's Grand Dinner.' — A Duke —
four Lords — 'Mr. Scully, and Sir George Gorgon.'"
" Well, l:)ut I don't see how you have bought him ; look at his
votes."
" My dear John," said Mr. Crampton, jingling his watch-seals
very complacently, " I am letting you into fearful secrets. The
great common end of party is to buy your ojjponents — the great
statesman buvs them for nothing."
2 Y
6i8 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
I
Here the attendant genius of ^Ir. Cranijjton made his appear-
ance, and whispered something, to which the little gentleman said,
" Shiiw her Ladyship in," — when the attendant disaj)peared.
"John," said Mr. Crampton, with a verj* queer smile, "you
can't stay in this room while Lady Gorgon is with me ; but there
is a little clerk's room behind the screen there, where you can wait
until I call you."
John retired, and as he closed the door of communication,
strange to say, little Mr. Crampton sprang u]) and said, " Confound
the young ninny, he has shut the door ! "
Mr. Crampton then, remembering that he wanted a maj) in the
next room, sprang into it, left the door half open in coming out,
and was in time to receive her Ladyship with smiling face as she.
ushered by Mr. Strongitharm, majestically sailed in.
CHAPTER III
BEHIND THE SCENES
IN issuing from and leaving open the door of the inner room, Mr.
Crampton had bestowed upon Mr. Perkins a look so peculiarly
arch, that even he, simple as he was, beyau to imagine that some
mystery was about to be cleared uj), or some mighty matter to be
discussed. Presently he heard tlie well-known voice of Lady Gorgon
in conversation with his uncle. What could their talk be about l
Mr. Perkins was dying to know, and — shall we say it? — advanced
to the door on tiptoe and listened with all his might.
Her Ladyship, that Juno of a woman, if she had not borrowed
Venus's girdle to render herself irresistible, at least had adopted
a tender, coaxing, wheedling, frisky tone, (piite different from her
ordinary dignified style of conversation. She called Mr. Crampton
a naughty man, for neglecting his old friends, vowed that Sir George
was quite hurt at his not coming to dine — nor fixing a day when he
would come — and added, with a most engaging ogle, that she had
three fine girls at home, who would i)erhaj)s make an evening pass
pleasantly, even to such a gay bachelor as Mr. Cram])ton.
" Madam," said he, with much gravity, " the daughters of such
a mother nuist be charming; Init I, who have seen your Ladysiiip,
am, alas ! jiroof against even them."
Both parties liere licaved tremendous sighs and afi'ected to be
wonderfully unhappy about something.
" I wish," after a pause, said Lady Gorgon — " I wish, dear Mr.
Crampton, you would not use that odious title ' my Ladyshi]) ' : you
know it always makes me melancholy."
" Melancholy, my dear Lady Gorgon ; and why 1 "
" Because it makes me think of another title that ought to have
been mine — ours (I speak for dear Sir George's and my darling
boy's sake. Heaven knows, not mine). AVhat a sad disappointment
it has been to my husband, that after all his services, all the
promises he has had, they have never given him his peerage. As
for me, you know "
" For you, my dear madam, I know quite well that you care for
no such bauble as a* coronet, except in so iar as it may confer honour
620 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
upon those most dear to you — excellent wife and noble mother as
you are. Heigho ! what a happy man is Sir George ! "
Here there was another pause, and if i\Ir. Perkins could have
seen wliat was taking place behind the screen, he would have beheld
little Mr. Crampton looking into Lady Gorgon's face, with as love-
sick a Romeo-gaze as he could possibly counterfeit ; while her
Lady.shij), blu.sliing somewhat and turning her own .grey gogglers uj»
to heaven, received all his words for gospel, and sat fancying herself
to be tlie best, most meritorious, and most beautiful creatiu-e in the
three kingdoms.
"You men are terrible flatterers," continued she; "but you say
right : for myself I value not these empty distinctions. I am grow-
ing old, Mr. Crampton, — yes, indeed, I am, altliough you smile so
incredulously, — and let me add, that m)/ tlioughts are fixed upon
higher things than earthly crowns. But tell me, you who are all in all
with Lord Bagwig, are we never to have our peei-age ? His Majesty,
I know, is not averse ; tlio services of dear Sir George to a member
of His Majesty's august family, I know, have been appreciated in
the highest quarter. Ever since the peace we have had a promise.
Four hiuidred pounds has Sir George spent at tlie Heralds' Office (I
myself am of one of the most ancient families in the kingdom, Mr.
Crampton), and the i)oor dear man's health is really ruined by the
anxious sickening feeling of hope so long delayed."
Mr. Crampton now assumed an air of nuich solenuiity.
" My dear Lady Gorgon," said lie, " will you let me be frank
with you, and will you promise solemnly that what I am going to
tell you sliall never be repeated to a' single soul 1 "
Lady Gorgon ])romised.
" Well, then, since tlie truth you nuist know, you yourselves
have been in part the cause of the delay of which you complain.
You gave us two votes five years ago : you now only give us one.
If Sir George were to go up to the Peers, we should lose even that
one vote ; and wouKl it be common sense in us to incur such a loss ?
Mr. Scully, the Liberal, would return another Member of his own
way of thinking; and as for the Li^rds, we have, you know, a
majority there."
"Oh, that horrid man!" said Lady Gorgon, cursing Mr. Scully in
her heart, and beginning to play a rapid tattoo with her feet, " that
miscreant, that traitor, that — that attorney has been our ruin."
" Horrid man, if you please, but give me leave to tell you that
the horrid man is not the sole cause of your ruin — if ruin you will
call it. I am sorry to say that I do candidly tliiidc ^linisters believe
that Sir George Gorgon has lost his influence in (^Idborough as much
through his own fault as through Mr. Scully's cleverness."
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 621.
" Our own fault ! Good heavens ! Have we not done every-
thing — everytliiug that persons of our station in the county could
do, to keep those misguided men 1 Have we not remonstrated,
threatened, taken away our custom from the Mayor, established a
Conservative ajiothecary — in fact, done all that gentlemen could do ?
But these are such times, Mr. Crampton : the spirit of revolution is
abroad, and the great families of England are menaced by democratic
insolence."
This was Sir George Gorgon's speech always after dinner, and
was delivered by his lady with a great deal of stateliness. Some-
what, perhaps, to her annoyance, Mr. Crampton only smiled, shook
his head, and said —
" Nonsense, my dear Lady Gorgon — pardon the phrase, but I
am a plain old man, and call things by their names. Now, will you
let me whisper in your ear one Avord of truth 1 You have tried all
sorts of remonstrances, and exerted yourself to maintain your in-
fluence in evei-y way, except the right one, and that is "
" What, in Heaven's name 1 "
" Conciliation. We know your situation in the borough. Mr.
Scully's whole history, and, pardon me for saying so (but we men in
office know everything), yours — — "
Lady Gorgcnvs ears and cheeks now assumed the hottest hue of
crimson. She thought of her former passages with Scully, and of the
days when — but never mind when : for she sutlered her veil to fall,
and buried her head in the folds of her handkerchief. Vain folds !
The wily little Mr. Crampton could see all that passed behind the
cambric, and continued —
" Yes, madam, we know the absurd hopes that were formed by
a certain attorney twenty years since. We know how, up to this
moment, he boasts of certain walks "
" With the governess — we were always with the governess ! "
shrieked out Lady Gorgon, clasping her hands. " She was not the
wisest of women."
"With the governess, of course," said Mr. Crampton firmly.
"Do you suppose that any man dare breathe a syllable against
your spotless reputation ? Never, my dear madam ; but what I
would urge is this — you have treated your disappointed admirer
too cruelly."
" AVhat ! the traitor who has robbed us of our rights?"
" He never would have robbed you of your rights if you, had
been more kind to him. You should be gentle, madam ; you should
forgive him — you should be friends with him."
" With a traitor, never ! "
" Think what made him a traitor, Lady Gorgon ; look in your
622 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
glass, and say if there be not some excuse for him 1 Think of the
feelings of the man who saw beauty such as yours — I am a plain man
and must speak — virtue such as yours, in the i)ossession of a rival.
By heavens, madam, I think he was right to hate Sir George Gorgon !
Would you have him allow such a prize to be ravished from him
without a pang on his part ? "
" He was, I believe, very much attached to me," said Lady
Gorgon, quite delighted; "but you nuist be aware that a young
man of his station in life could not look up to a person of my rank."
"Surely not: it was monstrous ])ride and arrogance in Mr.
Scully. But que voulez-vous ? Such is the world's way. Scully
could not help loving you — who that knows you can? I am a
plain man, and say what I think. He loves you still. Why make
nn enemy of him, wlio would at a word be at your feet ? Dearest
Lady Gorgon, listen to me. Sir George Gorgon and Mr. Scully
have already met — their meeting was our contrivance. It is for
our interest, for yours, that they should be friends. If there were
two Ministerial Members for Oldliorough, do you think your hus-
band's peerage would be less secure 1 I am not at lil)eity to tell
you all I know on this subject ; Init do, I entreat you, be recouciletl
to him."
And after a little more conversation, whidi was carried on by
Mr. Crampton in the same tender way, this important interview
closed, and Lady Gorgon, folding lier shawl round her, threaded
ciTtain mysterious pa.ssatjes and found her wav to her carriage in
Whitehall!
"I hope you have not l>een listening, you rogue?" .said Mr.
Cramjjton to his nephew, who l)lushed most altsurdly by way of
answer. " You would have heard great State secrets, if you had
dared to do .so. That woman is perpetually liere, and if peerages
are to be had for the asking, she ought to have been a duchess by
this time. I would not have admitted her but for a reason that I
have. Go yoii now and ponder ujtou what you have heard and seen.
Be on good terms with Sculh', and, above all, speak not a word con-
cerning our interview — no, not a word even to your mistress. By
the way, I presume, sir, you will recall your resignation 1 "
The bewildered Perkins was about to stammer out a speech,
Avhen his imcle, cutting it short, i)ushed him gently out of the door.
At the })criod when the important events occurred which have
been recorded here, j)arties ran very high, and a mighty struggle
for the vacant Speakership was about to come on. The Right
Honourable Robert Pinchcr was the Ministerial candidate, and Sir
Charles Macabaw was jiatronised by the Opjxisition. The two
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 623
Members for Oldboroiigh of course took different sides, the baronet
being of the Pincher faction, while Mr. WiUiani Pitt Scully strongly
supported the Macabaw party.
It was Mr. Scully's intention to deliver an impromptu sjjeech
upon the occasion of the election, and lie and his faithful Perkins
])repared it between tliem : foi- tlie latter gentleman had wisely kept
his uncle's counsel and liis own, and Mr. Scully was (juite ignorant
of the conspiracy that was brooding. Indeed, so artfully had that
young Machiavel of a Perkins conducted himself, that when asked
by his patron whether he had given up his ])lace in the Tape "and
Sealing- Wax Office, he replied that " he had tendered his resigna-
tion," but did not say one word about ha\iug recalled it.
" You were right, my boy, quite right," said Mr. Scully. " A
man of uncompromising principles should make no compromise."
And herewith he sat down and wrote off a couple of letters, one
to Mr. Hawksby, telling him that the place in the Sealing-Wax
Office was, as he had reason to know, vacant ; and the other to
his nephew, stating that it was to be his. "Under the rose, my
dear Bob," added Mr. Scully, " it will cost you five hundred pounds ;
but you cannot invest your money better."
It is needless to state that the afi'air was to be conducted " with
the strictest secrecy and honour," and that the money was to pass
through Mr. Scully's hands.
While, however, the great Pincher and Macabaw question was
yet undecided, an event occurred to Mr. Scully, which had a great
influence upon his after-life. A second grand ban(iuet was given
at the Earl of Mantrap's : Lady Mantrap re(iuested him to conduct
Lady Gorgon to dinner ; and the latter, with a charming timidity,
and a gracious melancholy look into his face (after which her veined
•eyelids veiled her azure eyes), put her hand into the trembling one
of Mr. Scully and said, as much as looks could say, " Forgive and
forget."
Down went Scully to dinner. There were dukes on his right
hand and earls on his left ; there were but two persons without title
m the midst of that glittering assemblage ; the very servants looked
like noblemen. The cook had done wonders ; the wines Avere cool
and rich, and Lady Gorgon was splendid ! What attention did
everybody pay to her and to him ! Why ivould she go on gazing
into his face with that tender imploring look? In other words,
Scully, after partaking of soup and fish (he, during their discus-
sion, had been thinking over all the former love-and-hate pas.-^ages
between himself and Lady Gorgon), turned very red, and began
talking to her.
"Were you not at the opera on Tuesday?" began he, assuming
624 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
at once the airs of a man of fashion. " I thought I caught a glimpse
of you in the Duchess of Diddlebury's box."
" Opera, Mr. Scully ? " (pronoimcing the word " Scully " with
the utmost softness). " Ah, no ! we seldom go, and yet too often.
For serious persons the enchantments of that place are too dangerous.
I am so nervous — so delicate ; the smallest trifle so agitates, de-
presses, or irritates me, that I dare not yield myself up to tlic
excitement of nuisic. I am too passionately attached to it ; and,
shall I tell you ? it has such a strange influence upon me, that the
smallest false note almost drives me to distraction, and for that very
reason I hardly ever go to a concert or a ball."
" Egad," thought Scully, " I recollect when she would dance
doAvn a matter of fivc-an(l-forty couple, and jingle away at the
* Battle of Pra.gue ' all day."
She continued : " Don't you recollect, I do, with — oh, what
regret ! — that day at Oldlxtrough race-ball, when I behaved with
such sad rudeness to you ? You will scarcely believe me, and yet I
assure you 'tis the fact, the uuisic liad made me almost mad. Do
let me ask your pardon for my conduct. I was not myself. Oh,
Mr. Scully ! I am no worldly woman ; I know my duties, and I
feel my wrongs. Nights and days have I lain awake weejiing and
thinking of tliat unhappy day — that I slioidd ever speak so to an
old friend ; for we ivere old friends, were we not 1 "
Scully did not speak ; but his eyes were bursting out of his
head, and his face was the exact colour of a deputy-lieutenant's
uniform.
" Tliat I sliould ever forget myself and you so i How I have
been longing for tliis o]iportunity to ask you to forgive m.e ! I asked
Lady Mantrap, when I lieard you were to be here, to invite me to
her party. Come, I know you will forgive me — your eyes say you
will. You used to look so in old days, and forgive me my caprices
then. Do give me a little wine — we will drink to the memory of
old days."
Her eyes filled with teai-s ; and poor Scully's hand caused such
a rattling and trembling of the glass and the ilecanter that the Duke
of Doldrum — who had been, during the course of this whisjjfred
sentimentality, describing a famous run with the Queen's hounds at
the top of his voice — stopped at the jingling of the glass, and his
tale was lost for ever. Scully liastily drank his wine, and Lady
Gorgon turned round to her next neighbom-, a little gentleman in
black, between whom and herself certain conscious looks passed.
" I am glad poor Sir George is not here," said he, sjuiling.
Lady Gorgon said, " Pooli, for shame ! " Tlie little gentleman
was no other tlian Josiah Crampton, Esquire, that eminent financier.
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 625
and he was now going through the curious calcuhition before men-
tioned, by which you buy a man for nothing. He intended to pay
the very same price for Sir George Gorgon, too ; but there was no
need to tell the baronet so ; only of this the reader must be made
aware.
While Mr. Crampton was conducting this intrigue, wliicli was
to bring a new recruit to tlie Ministerial ranks, his mighty sjjirit
condescended to ponder upon subjects of iniinitely less importance,
and to arrange plans for the welfare of his n('i)hew and tlie young
woman to whom he had made a ])resent of liis heart. These young
persons, as we said before, had arranged to live in Mr. Perkins's own
house in Bedford Row. It was of a peculiar construction, and
might more properly be called a house and a half: for a snug little
tenement of four chambers protruded from the back of the house
into the garden. These rooms communicated with the drawing-
rooms occupied by Mr. Scully \ and Perkins, who acted as liis friend
and secretary, used frequently to sit in the one nearest the ]\Iembei-'s
study, in order that he might be close at hand to confer with that
great man. The rooms had a private entrance too, were newly
decorated, and in them the young couple proposed to live ; the
kitchen and garrets being theirs likewise. Wliat more could they
need % We are obliged to be particular in describing these apart-
ments, for extraordinary events occurred therein.
To say the truth, until the present period Mr. CJrampton liad
taken no great interest in his nephew's marriage, or, intleed, in the
young man himself. The old gentleman was of* a saturnine turn,
and inclined to imdervalue the qualities of Mr. Perkins, which were
idleness, simplicity, enthusiasm, and easy good-nature.
" Such fellows never do anything in the world," he would say,
and for such he had accordingly the most profound contempt. But
when, after John Perkins's repeated entreaties, he had been induced
to make the acquaintance of Miss Gorgon, he became instantly
charmed with her, and warmly espoused her cause against her over-
bearing relations.
At his suggestion she wrote back to decline Sir George Gorgon's
peremptory invitation, and hinted at the same time that she had
attained an age and a position which enabled her to be the mistress
of her own actions. To tliis letter there came an answer from Lady
Gorgon which we shall not copy, but which simply stated that I\Iiss
Lucy Gorgon's conduct was unchristian, ungrateful, unladylike, and
immodest ; that the Gorgon family disowned her for the future, and
left her at liberty to form whatever base connections she pleaseil.
" A pretty world this ! " said Mr. Cranii)ton, in a great rage,
when the letter was shown to him. " This same fellow, Scully,
626 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
dissuades my nephew from taking a place, because Scully wants
it for himself This prude of a Lady Gorgon cries out shame, and
disowns an innocent amiable girl : she a heartless jilt herself once,
and a lieartless flirt now. The Pharisees, the Pharisees ! And
to call mine a base family, too ! "
Now, Lady Gorgon did not in tlie least know Mr. Crampton's
connection with Mr. Perkins, or she would have been much more
guarded in her language ; but whether she knew it or not, the old
gentleman felt a huge indignation, and determined to have his
revenge.
" That's right, uncle ! Shall I call Gorgon out 1 " said the
impetuous young Perkins, who was all for blood.
" Jolm, you are a fool," said liis uncle. "You shall have a
better revenge : you shall be married from Sir George Gorgon's
house, and you shall see Mr. William Pitt Scully sold for nothing. "^
This to the veteran dijilomatist seemed to be tlie highest triumph
which man could possibly enjoy.
It was very soon to take place : and, as has been the case ever
since the world began, woman, lovely woman was to be the cause
of Scully's foil. The tender scene at Lord Mantrap's was followed
by many otliers ecpially sentimental. Sir George Gorgon called
upon his colleague the very next day, and brought with him a card
from Lady Gorgon inviting Mr. Scully to dinner. The attorney
eagerly accejited the in^^tation, was received in Baker Street by
the wliole amiable foniily with much respectful cordiality, and was
pressed to rejieat liis visits as country neiglibours should. More
than once did he call, and somehow always at the hour when Sir
George was away at his club, or riding in the Park, or elsewhere
engaged. Sir George Gorgon was very old, very feeble, very much
shattered in constitution. Lady Gorgon used to impart her fears to
Mr. Scully every time he called there, and the sympathising attorney
used to console her as best lie mig])t. Sir George's country agent
neglected the property — his lady consulted Mr. Scully concerning it.
He knew to a fraction how large her jointure was : how she was ta
liave Gorgon Castle for her life • and how, in tlie event of the young
baronet's death (he, too, was a sickly poor boy), the chief part of
the estates, bought by lier money, woTild be at her absolute disposal.
" What a pity these odious politics prevent me from ha^ing you
for our agent ! " would Lady Gorgon say ; and indeed Scully thouglit
it was a pity too. Ambitious Scully ! what wild notions filled his
brain. He used to take leave of Lady Gorgon and ruminate upon
these tilings ; and wlien he was gone, Sir George and lier Ladyship
used to laugh.
" If Me can but commit him— if we can but make him vote for
THK Iif:DFOKD-ROW CONSPIRACY 627
Pinchcr," said the Genera), " my peerage in secure. Hawkiiby and
Crarnpton as good as told me so."
Tli<; jfoirjt had been urged upon Mr. Scully repeatedly and arlroitly.
"Is not PJnc-her a more experienced man than Ma<:abaw';" would
Sir George say to his guest over their wine. Scully allowed it.
" Can't you vote for him on personal groun<ls, and say so in the
House ? " Scully wished he could how he wished he could ! Every
time the General coughed, Scully saw his friend's desperate situation
more and more, and thought how jileasant it would be to be lord of
Gorgon Castle. " Knowing my pnjperty," cried Sir George, " ;ts you
do, and witli your talents and int(;grity, what a comfort it would te
WJiiM I leave you as guardian to my boy : But these cursed politics
prevent it, my dear fellow. Why m7^ you be a Radical?" And
Scully cursed jjolitics too. "Hang tlie low-bred rogue," added Sir
Gwrge, when William I'itt Scully left the house : " he will do every-
thing but promise."
" My dear General," said Lady Gorgon, sidling uj) to him and
letting him on his old yellow cheek — " My dear Georgy, tell me one
thing, — are you jealous? "
" .Jealous, my dear ! and jealous of fJuxt fellow — pshaw ! "
" Well, then, give me leave, and you shall have the promise
to-uiorrow.'
To-morrow arrived. Tt was a remarkably fine day, and in the
forenoon Mr. Perkins gave his acciLstomed knock at Scully's study,
which was only separated from his own sitting-room by a double
door. John had wisely followed his uncle's advice, and was on the
best terms with tlie honourable Member.
"Here are a few Hcnterices," said he, "which 1 think may suit
your piirj-o-i-. (;n:i\ puhlir services — undeniable merit — years of
integrity cause ot Relorm, and Macabaw for ever ! " He put down
the paper. It was, in fact, a speet^h in favour of Mr. Macabaw.
"Hush," said Scully, rather surlily; for he was thinking how
disagreeable it was to support Macabaw; and besides, there were
clerks in the room, whom the thoughtless Perkins had not at first
perceived. As soon as that gentleman saw them, " You are busy,
I see," continued he in a lower tone. " I came to say that I must
be off duty to-day, for I am engaged to take a walk with some ladies
of my acMjuaintance."
So saying, the light-hearted young man ]jlaced his hat uncere-
moniously on his head, and went off through his own door, humming
a song. He was in such high spirits that lie did Jiot even think of
closing the doors of connjiunication, and Scully looked after him with
a sneer.
628 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
" Ladies, forsooth ! " thought he ; " I know wlio they are. This
precious girl that he is fooling with, for one, I supjiose." He was
right : Perkins was oil' on the wings of love, to see ^liss Lucy ; and
she and Aunt Biggs and Uncle Crampton had i)ronii.sed this very
day to. come and look at the apartments which ]\Irs. John Perkins
was to occupy with her happy husband.
" Poor de\al ! " so continued Mr. Scully's meditations, " it is
almost too bad to do him out of his place ; but my Bob Avants it,
and John's girl has, I hear, seven thousand pounds. His undo will
get liiiu auotlier place before all that money is sj»ent." And liere-
with Mr. Scully began conning the speech which Perkins had made
for him.
He had not read it more than si.\ times, — in trutli, lie was
getting it by heart, — when his head clerk came to him from the
front room, bearing a card : a footman had brought it, who Siiid his
lady was waiting below. Lady Gorgon's name was on the card ! To
seize his hat and rush downstairs was, witli Mr. Scnlly, the work of
an infinitesimal portion of time.
It was indeed Lady Gorgon in her Gorgnnian chariot.
"Mr. Scully," said she, po]ij)ing her head out of winilow and
smiling in a most engaging way, '' I want to sjK-ak to you on
something very particular indeed'' — and slie held liiiii nut her hand.
Scully pressed it most tenderly: he hoped all heads in Pn-dford Ruw
were at the windows to see him. " I can't a.sk ynu into the carriage,
for you see the governess is with me, and I want to talk secrets
to you."
" Shall I go and make a little promenade'?" said mademoiselle
innocently. And her mistress hiited her for that siM-cch.
" No. Mr. Scully, I am sure, will let me come in for five
minutes ? "
Mr. Scully was only too happy. My Lady descended and walked
upstairs, leaning on the happy solicitt)r's arm. But how slmuld he
manage? The front njom was consecrated to clerks; there were
clerks too, as ill-luck WduM have it, in his private roum. " Perkitm
is out for the day," thought Scully ; " I will t;ike her into his
room." And into Perkins's room he took her— ay, and he shut the
double doors after him too, and trenililed as he thought of his own
happiness.
"What a charming little study!" said Lady (Jorgon, seiiting
herself And indeed it was very pretty : for Perkins had furnished
it beautifully, and laid out a neat tray with cakes, a cold fowl, and
sherry, to entertain his i)arty withal. "And do you bachelors always
live so welU" continued she, pointing to the little cold collation. '
Mr. Scully looked rather blank when he saw it, and a drea<lful
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 629
suspicion crossed his soul ; but there was no need to trouLle Lady
Gorgon with ex[)Ianations : therefore, at once, and with much
presence of mind, he asked her to partake of his bachelor's fare (she
would refuse Mr. Scidly nothing that day). A pretty sight would
it have been for young Perkins to see strangers so unceremoniously
devouring his feast. She drank — Mr. Scully drank — and si) em-
boldened was he by the draught that he actually seated himself by
the side of Lady Gorgon on John Perkins's new sofa.
Her Ladyship had of course something to say to him. She was
a pious woman, and had suddenly conceived a violent wish for
building a chapel-of-ease at Oldborough, to which she entreated
him to subscribe. She enlarged u])on the benefits that the town
would derive from it, spoke of Sunday-schools, sweet spiritual
instruction, and the duty of all Avell-minded persons to give aid to
the scheme.
" I will subscribe a hundred ])ounds," said Scully, at the end of
her La(lysiiip",s harangue : " would I not do anytliing ft)r you ? "
" Thank you, thank you, dear Mr. Scully," said the enthusiastic
woman. (How the " dear " went burning through his soul !) " Ah !"
added she, " if you would but do anything for me — if you, Avho are
so eminently, so truly distinguished, in a religious point of view,
would but see the truth in politics too ; and if I could see your
name among those of tlie true i)atriot party in this empire, how
blest — oh ! how blest should I be ! Poor Sir George often says he
should go to his gi-ave happy, could he but see you the guardian of
his boy ; and I, your old friend (for we were friends, "William), how
have I wept to think of you as one of those who are bringing our
monarchy to ruin. Do, do i)romis(; me this too ! " And she took
his hand and pressed it between hers.
The heart of William Pitt Scully, during this speech, was thump-
ing up and down with a frightful velocity and strength. His old love,
the agency of the Gorgon i)roperty — the dear widow- — five tliousand
a year clear — a thousand delicious hopes rushed madly through his
brain, and almost took away his reason. And there slie sat — she, the
loved one, pressing his hand and looking softly into his eyes.
Down, down he plumped on his knees.
" Juliana ! " shrieked he, " don't take away your hand ! My
love — my only love I — speak but those blessed words again ! Call
me William once more, and do with me what you will."
Juliana cast down her eyes and said, in the very smallest type —
" William ! "
— when the door opened, and in walked Mr. Crampton, leading Mrs.
Biggs, who could hardly contain herself for laughing, and Mr. John
630 THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
Perkins, who was squeezing the arm of Miss Lucy. They had heard
every word of the two last speeches.
For at the very moment when Lady Gojgon had stopped at
Mr. Scully's door, the four above-named individuals had issued from
Oreat James Street into Bedford Row.
Lucy cried out that it was lier aunt's carriage, and they all saw
Mr. Scully come out, bareheaded, in the sunshine, and my Lady
descend, and tlie pair go into the house. They meanwhile entered
by Mr. Perkins's own private door, and had been occupied in ex-
amining the delightful rooms on the ground floor, which were to be
his dining-room and library — from which they ascended a stair to
visit the other two rooms, which were to form Mrs. John Perkins's
drawing-room and bedroom. Now whether it wa.s that they trod
softly, or that the stairs were covered with a grand new carpet and
drugget, as was the case, or that the party within were too much
occupied in themselves to heed any outwanl disturbances, I know
not ; but Lucy, who was advancing with John (he was .saying some-
thing about one of the apartments, the mgue I) — Lucy suddenly
started and whispered, " There is somebody in the rooms ! " and at
that instant began the sjjcech already reported, " Thank i/ou, thank
you, dear Mr. Sndly" &c. &c., which was delivered by Lady
Gorgon in a full clear voice; for, to do her Ladyship justice, ahe had
not one single grain of love for Mr. Scully, and, during the delivery
of her little oration, was as cool as the coolest cucunibor.
Then began tlu; imj)assioned rejoinder, to which the four listened
on the landing-place ; and then the little " Witiiam" as narrated
above : at which juncture Mr. Crampton thought proper to rattle at
the door, and, after a brief pause, to enter with his party.
" William " had had time to bounce ofl" his knees, and was on a
chair at the other end of the room.
" What, Lady Gorgon ! " said I\Ir. Crami)ton, with excellent
surprise, " how delighted I am to see you ! Always, I .see, emi»loyed
in works of charity " (the chapel-of-ease paper was on her knees),
"and on such an occasion, too, — it is rejilly the most won-
derful coincidence ! My dear madam, hero is a silly fellow, a
nephew of mine, who is going to marry a silly girl, a niece of your
own."
" Sir, I " began Lady Gorgon, rising.
" They heard every word," whispered Mr. Crampton eagerly.
"Come forward, Mr. Perkins, and show yourself" Mr. Perkins
made a genteel bow. " Miss Lucy, please to shake hands with your
aunt ; and this, my dear madam, is Mrs. Biggs of Mecklenburgh
Square, who, if she were not too old, might marry a gentleman in
the Treasury, who is your very humble ser^-ant." And with this
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY 631
gallant speech, old Mr. Cramptou began helping everybody to
sherry and cake.
As for William Pitt Scully, he had disappeared, evaporated, in
the most absurd sneaking way imaginable. Lady Gorgon made
good her retreat presently, with much dignity, her countenance
undismayed, and her face turned resolutely to the foe.
• • • • •
About five days afterwards, that memorable contest took place
in the House of Commons, in which the partisans of Mr. Macabaw
were so very nearly getting him the Speakership. On the day that
the report of the debate appeared in the Times, there appeared also
an announcement in the Gazette as follows : —
" The King has been pleased to appoint John Perkins, Esquire,
to be Deputy-Subcomptrollcr of His Majesty's Tape Office and
Custos of the Sealing-Wax Department."
Mr. Crampton showed this to his nephew with great glee, and
was chuckling to think how Mr. William Pitt Scully would be
annoyed, who had expected the place, when Perkins burst out laugh-
ing and said, " By heavens, here is my own speech ! Scully lias
spoken every word of it ; he has only put in Mr. Pincher's name
in the place of Mr. Macabaw's."
"He is ours now," responded his uncle, "and I told you
we 7('ould have him for nothing. I told you, too, that you
should be married from Sir George Gorgon's, and here is proof
of it."
It was a letter from Lady Gorgon, in which she said that, "had
she known Mr. Perkhis to V)e a nephew of her friend Mr. Crampton,
she never for a moment would have opposed lils marriage with
her niece, and she had written that morning to her dear Lucy,
begging that the marriage breakfast should take place in Baker
Street."
"It shall be in Mecklenburgh Square," said John Perkins
stoutly ; and in Mecklenburgh S(]uare it was.
William Pitt Scully, Esquire, was, as Mr. Crampton said,
hugely annoyed at the loss of the place for his nephew. He had
still, however, his hopes to look forward to, but these were unluckily
dashed by the coming in of the Whigs. As for Sir George Gorgon,
when he came to ask about his peerage, Hawksby told him that
they could not afford to lose him in the Commons, for a Liberal
Member would infallibly fill his place.
And now that the Tories are out and the Whigs are in, strange
632
THE BEDFORD-ROW CONSPIRACY
to say a Liberal does fill his place. Thi.s Lilxral is no other
than Sir George Gorgon himself, wlio is still longing to lie a lord
and his lady is still devout and intriguing. So that the Meiubers
for Oldborough have changed sides, and taunt each other with
apostasy, and hate each other cordially. Mr. Cnunjiton still
chuckles over the manner in which he tricked them lv>th. and talks
of those five minutes during which he stood on the lamling-place
and hatched and executed his " Bedford-Row Conspiracy."
i
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED
July 1840
, who had voted with Mr. Ewaxt for the abolition of the
punishment of death, was anxious to see the eftect on the
public mind of an execution, and asked me to accompany
him to see Courvoisier killed. We had not the advantage of a
sheriff's order, like the " six hundred noblemen and gentlemen " who
were admitted within the walls of the prison ; but determined to
mingle with the crowd at the foot of the scaffold, and take up our
positions at a very early hour.
As I was to rise at three in the morning, I went to bed at ten,
thinking that five hours' shop would be amply sufficient to brace
me against the fatigues of the coming day. But, as might have
been expected, the event of tlie morrow was perpetually before my
eyes through the night, and kept them wide open. I heard all the
clocks in the neighl)ourhood chime tlie liours in succession ; a dog
from some court hard by kept up a pitiful howling ; at one o'clock,
a cock set up a feeble melancholy crowing ; shortly after two the
daylight came peeping grey through the window-shutters ; and by
the time that X arrived, in fulfilment of his promise, I had
been asleep about half-an-liour. He, more wise, had not gone to
rest at all, but had remained up all night at the Club along with
Dash and two or tliree more. Dash is one of the most eminent
wits in London, and had kept the company merry all night with
appropriate jokes about the coming event. It is curious that a
murder is a great inspirer of jokes. We all like to laugh and have
our fling about it ; there is a certain grim pleasure in the circum-
stance — a perpetual jingling antithesis between life and death, that
is sure of its effect.
In mansion or garret, on down or straw, siu-rounded by weeping
friends and solemn oily doctors, or tossing unheeded upon scanty
hospital beds, there were many people in this great city to whom
that Sunday night was to be the last of any that they should pass
636 GOIXG TO SEE A MAX HANGED
on earth here. In the course of half-a-dozen (hirk wakeful hours,
one had leisure to think of these (and a little, too, of that certain
supreme ni,i,dit, that shall come at one time or other, when he -nho
■writes shall be stretched upon the last bed, prostrate in the last
struggle, taking the last look of dear faces that have cheered us
here, and lingering — one moment more— "ere we jiart for the
tremendous journey) ; but, chiefly, I coiUd not help tliinking, as
each clock sounded, what is he doing now? has Ae heard it in his
little room in Newgate yonder? Eleven o'clock. He has Itcen
writing until now. The gaoler says he is a pleasant man enough
to be with ; but he can hold out no longer, and is very weary.
"Wake me at four," says he, "for I have still much to jiut down."
From eleven to twelve the gaoler hears how he is grinding liis teeth
in his sleep. At twelve he is up in his bed and asks, " Is it the
time?" He has i)lenty more time yet for sleep; and he sleeps,
and the bell goes on tolling. Seven hours more — five hours more.
Manv a carriage is clattering through the streets, bringing ladies
away from evening parties ; many bachelors arc reeling home after
a jolly niglit ; Covent Garden is alive ; and the light coming
through the cell-window turns the gaoler's candle j)alc. Four hours
more! "Courvoisier," says tlie gaoler, shaking him, "it's four
o'clock now, and I've woke you as you told me ; but there's no
call for you to (jet up yet." The jtoor wretch leaves his lied, how-
ever, and makes his last toilet; and tlu-n falls to writing, to ti'U
the world how he did the crime for which lie has sutfored. This
time he w'ill tell the truth and the whole truth. They bring liin)
his breakfast "from tlie cotfoe-shop opjKtsite — tea, coff"ee, and thin
bread and butter." lie will take milling, however, but goes on
writing. He has to write to his mother — the i)ioiis mother far
away in his own country — who reared liim ami loved him; and
even now has sent him her forgiveness and her blessing. He
finishes his memorials and letters, and makes his will, disposing
of his little miserable projierty of l)ooks and tracts that pious
people have furnished him witiu " Cc H Juillet 1840. Fnim-ois
Benjamin Courvoisier vous donne ceci, moii ami, pour souvenir."'
He has a token for his dear friend the gaoler ; another for his
dear friend tlie under-sherifF. As the day of the convict's death
draws nigh, it is jjainful to see how he fastens uj)on everybody
who approaches him, how pitifully he clings to them and loves
them.
While these things are going on within the jirison (with whici;
we are made accurately accpiainted by the copious clironides of
such events which are published subsequently), X 's carriage
has driven up to tlie door of my lodgings, and we have partaken
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED 637
of an elegant dejeuner tluit has been prepared for the Dccasion. A
cup of coffee at half-past three in the morning is nncoinmonly
pleasant ; and X enlivens us with the repetition of the jokes
that Dash has just been making. Admirable, certainly — they must
have had a merry night of it, that's clear ; and we stoutly debate
whetlier, when one has to get up so early in the morning, it is best
to have an hour or two of sleep, or wait and go to bed afterwards
at the end of the day's work. That fowl is extraordinarily tough —
the wing, even, is as hard as a board ; a slight disappointment, for
there is nothing else for breakfast. " Will any gentleman have
some sherry and soda-water before he sets out 1 It clears the brains
famously." Thus ])rimed, the jiarty sets out. The coachman has
dropped asleep on the box, and wakes up wildly as the hall-door
opens. It is just four o'clock. About this very time they are
waking up poor — pshaw! who is for a cigar? X does not
smoke himself; but vows and ])rotests, in the kindest way in the
world, that he does not care in the least for the new drab-silk
linings in his carriage. Z , who smokes, mounts, however, tlie
box. "Drive to Snow Hill," says the owner of the chariot. The
policemen, who are the only people in the street, and are standing
by, look knowing — they know what it means well enough.
How cool and clean tlie streets look, as the carriage startles the
echoes that have been asleep in the corners all night. ScMuebody
has been sweeping the pavements clean in the night-time surely ;
they would not soil a lady's white satin shoes, they are so dry and
neat. There is not a cloud or a breath in the air, except Z 's
cigar, which whirt's off, and soars straight upwards in volumes of
white i)ure smoke. The trees in tlie scjuares look bright and gi-een
— as bright as leaves in the country in June. We who keep late
hours don't know the beauty of London air and verdure ; in the
early morning they are delightful — the most fresh and lively com-
panions possible. But they capnot bear the crowd and the bustle
of mid-day. You don't know them then — they are uq longer the
same things. We have come to Gray's Inn ; there is actually dew
upon the grass in the gardens ; and the windows of the stout old
red houses are all in a flame.
As we enter Holborn the town grows more animated ; and there
are already twice as many people in the streets as you see at nud-
day in a German Residenz or an English provincial town. The
ginshop keepers have many of them taken their shutters down, and
many j)ersons are issuing from them pipe in hand. Down they go
along the broad bright street, their blue shadows marching after
them ; for they are all bound the same way, and are bent like us
upon seeing the hanging.
638 GOING TO SEE A MAX HANGED
It is twenty minutes past four as we pass St. Sepulchre's : by
this tune many hundred people are in the street, and many more
are coming up Snow Hill. Before us lies Newgate Prison; but
something a great deal more awful to look at, which seizes the eye
at once, and makes the heart beat, is
There it stands black and ready, jutting out from a little door
in the prison. As you see it, you feel a kind of dumb electric
shock, which causes one to start a little, and give a sort of g;i.sp lor
breath. The shock is over in a second ; and presently you examine
the object before you with a certain feeling of complacent curiosity.
At least, such wa.s the effect tliat tlie gallows iiroducod upon the
writer, who is trying to set d(jwu all his iV-clings a« they occurred,
and not to exaggerate them at all.
After the gallows-shock had subsided, we went down into tlie
crowd, which was very numerous, but not dense as yet. It was
evident that the day's business had not begun. People sauntcretl
up, and formed groups, and talked ; the new-comers asking those
who seemed habitues of the ])lace about former executions ; and did
the victim hang with his face towards the cl(»ck or towards Ludgate
Hiin and had he the roi)e round his neck when he came on the
scaffold, or was it put on by Jack ivetch afterwards] and had Lord
W taken a window, and which was he? I may mention the
noble Manpiis's name, as he was not at the exhibition. A pseudo
W was pointed out in an opposite window, towards whom all
the people in our neighbourliood looked eagerly, and with great
respect too. Tlie mob seemed to have no sort of ill-will ag-.nn.'^t
him, but sympathy and admiration. This nolde lord's jjcrsonal
courage and strength have won the plebs over to him. Perhai)s his
exploits against ])olicemeu have occasioned some of this popularity ;
for the mob hate them, as children the school nuuster.
Throughout the whole four hours, however, the mob was extra-
ordinarily gentle and good-humoured. At first we had leisure to
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED 639
talk to the people about us ; and I recommend X 's brother
senators of both sides of the House to see more of this same people
and to appreciate them better. Honourable Members are battling
and struggling in the House ; shouting, yelling, crowing, hear-hear-
ing, pooh-poohing, making speeches of three columns, and gaining
"great Conservative triumphs," or "signal successes of the Reform
cause," as the case may be. Three hundred and ten gentlemen of
good fortune, and able for the most part to quote Horace, declare
solemnly that unless Sir Robert comes in, the nation is ruined.
Three hundred and fifteen on the other side swear by their great
gods that the safety of the empire depends upon Lord John ; and
to this end they quote Horace too. I declare that I have never
been in a great London crowd without thinking of what they call
the two " great " parties in England with wonder. For which of
the two great leaders do these people care, I pray you? When
Lord Stanley withdrew his Irish Bill the other night, were they in
transports of joy, like worthy j)ersons who read the Globe and the
Chronicle ? or when he beat the Ministers, were they wild with
delight, like honest gentlemen who read the Post and the Times ?
Ask yonder ragged fellow, who has evidently frequented debating-
clubs, and speaks with good sense and shrewd goodnature. He
cares no more for Lord John than he does for Sir Robert ; and,
with due respect be it said, would mind very little if both of them
were ushered out by Mr. Ketch, and took their i)laces under yonder
black beam. What are the two great parties to him, and those
like him 1 Sheer wind, hollow humbug, absurd claptraps ; a silly
mununery of dividing and debating, Avhich does not in the least,
however it may turn, affect his condition. It has been so ever
since the hapi)y days when Whigs and Tories began ; and a j)retty
l)astime no doubt it is for both. August parties, great balances of
British freedom : are not the two sides quite as active, and eager,
and loud, as at their very birth, and ready to fight for place as
stoutly as ever they fought before 1 But lo ! in the meantime,
whilst you are jangling and brawling over the accounts, Populus,
whose estate you have administered while he was an infimt, and
could not take care of himself — Populus has been growing and
growing, till he is every bit as wise as his guardians. Talk to our
ragged friend. He is not so polished, perhaps, as a member of the
" Oxford and Cambridge Club ; " he has not been to Eton ; and
never read Horace in his life ; but he can think just as soundly as
the best of you ; he can speak quite as strongly in his own rough
way ; he has been reading all sorts of books of late years, and
gathered together no little information. He is as good a man as
the common run of us ; and there are ten million more men in the
640 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED
country, as good as he — ten million, for whom we, in our infinite
superiority, are acting as guardians, and to whom, in our bounty,
we give — exactly nothing. Put yourself in their position, worthy
sir. You and a hundred others find yourselves in some lone place,
where you set up a government. You take a chief, as is natural ;
iie is the cheapest order-keeper in the world. You establish half-a-
dozen worthies, whose families you say shall have the privilege to
legislate for you for ever ; half-a-dozen more, who shall be apjiointed
by a choice of thirty of the rest : and the other sixty, who shall
have no choice, vote, place, or privilege at all. Honouralile sir,
suppose that you are one of the last sixty : h(n\- will you feel, you
who have intelligence, passions, honest pride, as well as your
neighbour ; how will you feel towards your equals, in whose hands
lie all the power and all the property of the conmiunity 1 "Would
you love and honour them, tamely acquiesce in their superiority,
see their privileges, and go yourself disregarded without a pang?
you are not a man if you would. I am not talking of riglit or
wrong, or debating (juestions of government. But ask my friend
there, with the ragged elbows and no shirt, what he thinks ] You
have yoiu- party. Conservative or Whig, as it may be. You believe
that an aristocracy is an institution necessary, beautiful, and
virtuous. You are a gentleman, in other words, and stick by
your party.
And our friend with the elbows (the crowd is thickening hugely
all this time) sticks by his. Talk to him of Whig or Tory, he grins
at them : of virtual representation, pish ! He is a democrat, and
will stand by his frienils, as you by yours ; and they are twenty
millions, his friends, of whom a vast minurity now, a majority a few
years hence, Avill be as good as you. In the meantime we shall
continue electing, and d('l)ating, and dividing, antl having every day
new triumphs for tlu^ glorious cause of Conservatism, or the glorious
cause of Reform, until
•
What is the meaning of this unconscionable republican tirade
— a 2'>ropos of a hanging? Such feelings, I think, nmst come
across any man in a vast multitude like this, ^^■llat good sense
and intelligence Jiave most of the people by whom you are sur-
rounded ; how much sound humour does one hear bandied about
from one to another ! A great nimiber of coarse phrases are
used, that would make ladies in drawing-rooms blush ; but the
morals of the men are good and hearty. A ragamuffin in the
crowd (a powdery baker in a white sheep's-wool cap) uses some
indecent expression to a woman near: there is an instant cry of
shame, which silences the man, and a dozen people are ready to give
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED 641
the woinaii protection. The crowd lias grown very dense by this
time, it is about six o'clock, and there is great heaving, and pushing,
and swaying to and fro ; but round the women the men have formed
a circle, and keep them as much as possible out of the rush and
trample. In one of the houses, near us, a gallery has been formed
on the roof Seats were here let, and a number of persons of various
degrees were occupying them. Several tipsy dissolute-looking young
men, of the Dick SM-iveller cast, were in this gallery. One was
lolling over the sunshiny tiles, with a fierce sodden face, out of which
came a pipe, and whiclf was shaded by long matted hair, and a hat
cocked very much on one side. Tliis gentleman was one of a party
which had evidently not been to bed on Sunday night, but had
passed it in some of these delectable night-houses in the neighbour-
hood of Covent Garden. The debauch was not over yet, and the
women of the party were giggling, drinking, and romping, as is the
wont of these delicate creatures ; sprawling here and there, and
falling upon the knees of one or other of the males. Their scarves
were off their shoulders, and you saw the sun shining down upon
the bare Avhite flesh, and the shoulder-points glittering like burning-
glasses. The people about us were very indignant at some of the
proceedings of this debauched crew, iand at last raised up such a
yell as frightened them into shame, and they were more orderly for
the remainder of the day. The Avindows of the shops opposite
began to fill apace, and our before-mentioned fricml Avith ragged
elbows pointed out a celebrated fashionable character who occupied
one of them ; and, to our surprise, knew as much about him as the
Conrt Joiirtial or the Morning Fast. Presently he entertained us
with a long and pretty accurate account of the history of Lady ■ ,
and indulged in a judicious criticism upon her last work. I have
met with many a country gentleman who had not read half as many
books as this honest fellow, this shrewd ^n-o/e Ye/ //-e in a Wack shirt.
The people about him took up and carried on the conversation very
knowingly, and were very little behind him in point of information.
It was just as good a company as one meets on common occasions.
I was in a genteel crowd in one of the galleries at the Queen's
coronation ; indeed, in point of intelligence, the democrats were
quite equal to the aristocrats. How many more such groups were
there in this immense multitude of nearly forty thousand, as some
say ? How many niore such throughout the country 1 I never yet,
as I said before, have been in an English mob without the same
feeling for the persons who composed it, and without Avonder at the
vigorous orderly good sense and intelligence of the iie<i])le.
The character of the crowd was as yet, however, quite festive.
Jokes bandying about here and there, and jolly laughs breaking out.
642 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED
Some men were endeavouring to climb up a leaden pipe on one of
the houses. The landlord came out, and endeavoured with might
and main to pull them down. Many thousand eye.s turned upon
this contest immediately. All sorts of voices issued from the crowd,
and uttered choice expressions of slang. When one of the men wa.s
pulled down by the leg, the waves of this black mol>ocean laughed
innumerably ; when one fellow slipped away, scrambled up the pipe,
and made good his lodgment on the shelf, we were all made happy,
and encom-aged him by loml shouts of admiration. What is there
so particularly deligiitful in the spectacle of>a man clambering up a
gas-pipe? Why were we kept for a quarter of an hour in deep
interest gazing upon this remarkable scene ? Indeed it is hard to
say : a man does not know what a fool he is luitil he tries ; or, at
least, what mean follies will amuse him. The other day I went to
Astley's, and saw clown come in with a fool's cap and pinafore, and
six small boys who represented his schoolfellows. To them enters
schoolmaster ; horses clown, and flogs him hugely on the bark jiart
of his pinafore. I never read anything in Swift, Boz, Kiibelais,
Fielding, Paul de Kock, which delighted me so much as this sight,
and caused me to laugh so profoundly. And why ? What is there
so ridiculous in the sight of one miserably rougeii man beating
another on the breech ? Tell us where the fun lies in this and the
before-mentioned episode of the g;is-pipe ? Vast, indeed, are the
capacities and ingenuities of the human soul tliat can tind, in incidents
so wonderfully small, means of contemplation and auuisement.
Really the time passed away with extraordinary quickness. A
thousand things of the sort related here came to amuse us. First
the workmen knocking and hammering at the scaffold, mysterious
clattering of blows was heard within it, and a ladder painted black
was carried round, and into the interior of the edifice by a small
side door. We all looked at this little hvlder and at each otlier
— things began to be very interesting. Soon came a squad ot
policemen : stalwart rosy-looking men, saying much for City feeding ;
well dressed, well limbed, and of admirable good-liumour. They
paced about the open space between the pri.son ami tlie barriers
which kept in the crowd from the scaflbld. The front line, as far
as I could see, was chiefly occupied l)y blackguards and boys —
professional persons, no doubt, who saluted the policemen on their
appearance with a volley of jokes and ribaldry. As far as I could
judge from faces, there were more blackguards of sixteen and seven-
teen than of any maturer age ; stunted, .sallow, ill-grown lads, in
rugged fustian, scowling about. There were a considerable number
of girls, too, of the same age: one that Cruikshank and Boz might
have taken as a studv for Nancv. The girl was a young thief's
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED 643
mistress evidently; if attacked, ready to reply without a particle
of modesty ; could give as good ribaldry as she got ; made no secret
(and there were several inquiries) as to her profession and means of
livelihood. But with all thisj there was something good about the
girl ; a sort of devil-may-care candour and simi^licity that one could
not fail to see. Her answers to some of the coarse questions j)ut to
lier, were very ready and good-humoured. She had a friend with
her of the same age and class, of whom she seemed to be very fond,
and who looked up to her for protection. Both of these women
had beautiful eyes. Devil-may-care 's were extraordinarily bright
and blue, an admirably fair complexion, and a large red mouth full
of white teeth. An reste, ugly, stunted, thick-limbed, and by no
means a beauty. Her friend could not be more than fifteen. They
were not in rags, l>ut had greasy cotton shawls, and old faded
rag-shop bonnets. I was curious to look at them, having, in late
fashionable novels, read many accounts of such personages. Bah !
what figments these novelists tell us ! Boz, who knows life well,
knows that his IMiss Nancy is the most unreal fantastical i)ersonage
possible ; no more like a thief's mistress than one of Gesner's
shepherdesses resembl(>s a real country wench. He dare not tell
the truth concerning such young ladies. They have, no duubt, virtues
like other human creatures ; nay, their position engenders virtues
that are not called into exercise among other women. But on these
an honest painter of human nature has no right to dwell ; not being
able to paint the whole portrait, he has no right to present one or
two favourable points as characterising the whole ; and therefore,
in fact, had better leave the picture alone altogether. The new
French literature is essentially false and worthless from this very
error — the writers giving us favourable pictures of monsters, and
(to say nothing of decency or morality) pictures quite untrue to
nature.
But yonder, glittering through the crowd in Newgate Street —
see, the Sherifts' carriages are slowly making their way. We have
been here three hours ! Is it possible that they can liave passed so
soon 1 Close to the barriers where we are, the mob has become so
dense that it is with difficulty a man can keep his feet. Each
man, however, is very careful in protecting the women, and all are
full of jokes and good-humour. The windows of the shops ojjposite
are now pretty nearly filled by the persons who hired them. Many
young dandies are there with moustaches and cigars ; some quiet
fat family-parties, of simple honest tradesmen and their wives, as
Ave fancy, wlio are looking on with the greatest imaginable calmness,
and sii)ping their tea. Yonder is the sham Lord W , who is
flinging various articles among the crowd ; one of his companions,.
644 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED
a tall, burly man, with large moustaches, has provided himself with
a squirt, and is aspersing the mob with brandy-and-water. Honest
gentleman ! high-bred aristocrat ! genuine lover of humour and wit :
I would walk some miles so see thee on the treadmill, thee and thy
Mohawk crew !
We tried to get up a hiss against these ruffians, but only had a
trifling success ; the crowd did not seem to think their offence very
heinous; and our friend, the philosopher in the ragged elbows, wli(«
had remained near us all the time, was not inspired with any such
savage disgust at the proceedings of certain notorious young gentle-
men, a.s I nuist confess tills my own particular lK»som. He only
said, " So-and-so is a lord, and they'll let him off," and then dis-
coursed about Lord Ferrers being hanged. The jihiliisophcr knew
the liistory pretty well, and so did most of the little knot of jtersons
about him, and it must be a gratifying thing for young gentlemen
to find that their actions are made tiie subject of this kind of
conversation.
Scarcely a word had been said about C'ourvoisier all this time.
We were all, as far as I could judge, in just such a frame of mind
as men are in when they are scjueezing at the pit-diK»r of a i>lay, or
pushing for a review or a Lord Mayor's show. We :usked most of
the men who were near us, whether they had seen many executions ?
most of them had, the ]»hiloso|)her esj»ecially ; wiiether the sight of
them did any good? "For the matter of that, no ; peojde did not
care about them at all ; nobody ever thought of it after a bit." A
countryman, who had left his drove in Smithfield, sjud the same
thing ; he had seen a man hange<l at York, and sjHjke of the cere-
mony with ])erfect good sense, and in a ipiiet sag-acious way.
J. S , the famous wit, now dead, had, I recollect, a good
story upon the subject of executing, and of the terror which the
punishment ins])ires. After Tliistlewood and his conijianious were
hanged, their heads Avere taken off, according to the sentence, and
the executioner, as he severed each, held it up to the crowd, in the
proper orthodox way, saying, " Here is the head of a traitor ! " At
the siglit of the first ghastly head the people were struck with terror,
and a general expression of disgust and fear broke from them. The
second head was looked at also with nuich interest, but the excite-
ment regarding the third head diminished. When the executioner
had come to the last of the heads, he lifted it up, but, by some
clumsiness, allowed it to drop. At this the <tow(1 yelled out, ''Ah,
Bntter-fingers ! " — the excitement had pjjssed entirely away. The
])unishment had grown to be a joke — Butter-fingers was the word—
a pretty commentary, indeed, ui)on the august nature of public
executions, and the awful majesty of the law.
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED 645
It was past seven now ; the quarters rang and passed away ; the
crowd began to grow very eager and more quiet, and we turned
back every now and then and looked at St. Sepidchre's clock. Half-
an-hour, twenty-five minutes. What is he doing now ? He has his
irons off by this time. A quarter : he's in the press-room now, no
doubt. Now at last we had come to think about the man we were
going to see hanged. How slowly the clock crept over the last
quarter ! Those' who were able to turn round and see (for the
crowd was now extraordinarily dense) chronicled the time, eight
minutes, five minutes ; at last — ding, dong, dong, dong !— the bell
is tolling the chimes of eight.
Between the writing of this line and the last, the pen has been
put down, as the reader may suppose, and the person who is ad-
dressing him has gone through a pause of no very pleasant thoughts
and recollections. The whole of the sickening, ghastly, wicked scene
passes before the eyes again ; and, indeed, it is an awful one to see,
and very hard and painful to describe.
As the clock began to strike, an immense sway and movement
swept over the whole of that vast dense crowd. They were all un-
covered directly, and a great murnuir arose, more awful, bizarre,
antl indescribable than any sound I had ever before heard. Women
and children began to shriek horribly. I don't know whether it
was the bell I heard ; but a dreadful quick feverish kind of jangling
noise mingled with the noise of the people, and lasted for about two
minutes. The scaffold stood before us, tenantless and black ; the
black chain was hanging down ready from the beam. Nobody came.
" He has been respited," some one said ; another said, " He has killed
himself in prison."
Just then, from under the black prison-door, a pale quiet head
peered out. It was shockingly bright and distinct ; it rose up
directly, and a man in black appeared on the scaffold, and was
silently followed by about four more dark figures. The first was
a tall grave man : we all knew who the second man was. " That's
he — that's he ! " you heard the people say, as the devoted man
came up.
I have seen a cast of the head since, but, indeed, should never
have known it. Cour^'oisier bore his punishment like a man, and
walked very firmly. He was dressed in a new black siut, as it
seemed : his shirt was open. His arms were tied in front of him.
He opened his hands in a helpless kind of way, and clasped them
once or twice together. He turned his head here and there, and
looked about him for an instant with a wild imploring look. His
mouth was contracted into a sort of pitiful smile. He went and
646 GOI^'G TO SEE A MAN HANGED
placed himself at onre under the beam, with hit^ face towards St.
Sepulchre's. The tall grave man in black twisted him round swiftly
in the other direction, and, drawing from his pocket a nightcap,
pulled it tight over the patient's head and face. I am not ashamed
to say that I could look no more, but shut my eyes as the last
di-eadful act was going on which sent this wretched guilty soul into
the presence of God.
If a public execution is beneficial — and beneficial it is, no doubt,
or else the wise laws would not encourage forty thousand people
to witness it — the next useful thing must be a full description
of such a ceremony, and all its entourarjes, and to this end the
above pages are offered to the reader. How does an individual man
feel under it ? In what way does he observe it, — how does lie view
all the plienomena connected with it, — what induces him. in tlie first
instance, to go and see it, — and how is he moved by it alterwards ?
The writer has discarded the magazine "We" altogether, and spoken
face to face with tiie reader, recoiding every one of the impressions
felt by him as honestly as he coidd.
I must confess, then (for " I " is the shortest word, and tlie best
in this case), that the sight has left on my mind an extraordinary
feeling of terror and shame. It seems to me that I have been
abetting an act of frightful wickedness and violence, i>erforined by a
set of men against one of their fellows ; and I j)ray God that it may
soon be out of the power of any man in England to witnes.s such
a hideous and degrading sight. Forty th(tu!<and iicrsons (say the
Sheriffs), of all ranks and degrees, — mechanics, gentlemen, jtick-
pockets, members of both Houses of Parliament, street-walkers,
iK^vspaper-writers, gather together before Newgate at a very early
hour ; the most part of them give up their natural (]uiet night's
rest, in oi-der to partake of this hideous debauchery, which is more
exciting tlian sleep, or than wine, or the last new ballet, or aiiy
otlier amusement they can have. Pickixicket and Peer, each is
tickled by the sight alike, and has that hidden lust after blood
which influences our race. Government, a Christian Govenunent,
gives us a feast every now and then : it agrees — tliat is to say, a
majority in the two Houses agrees — that for certain crimes it is
necessary that a man should be hanged by the neck. Govern-
ment commits the criminal's soul to the mercv of God, stating that
here on earth he is to look for no mercy ; keeps him for a fortnight
to prepare, provides him with a clergyman to settle his religious
matters (if there be time enough, but Government can't wait) ; and
on a Monday morning, the bell tolling, the clergyman reading out
the word of God, " I am the resurrection and the life," " The Lord
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED 647
giveth, and the Lord taketh away," — on a Monday morning, at eight
o'clock, this man is placed under a beam, with a rope connecting it
and him ; a ]ilank disaiiiiears from imder liim, and those who have
paid for good places may see the liands of the (.Juvernment agent.
Jack Ketch, coming up from his black hole, and seizing the prisoner's
legs, and pulling them, until he is quite dead — strangled. ,
Many persons, and well-informed newspapers, say that it is
mawkish sentiment to talk in this way, morbid humanity, chea])
philanthropy, that any man can get up and jireach about. Tliere
is the Observer, for instance, a ])aper cons]iicuous for the tremendous
sarcasm which distinguishes its articles, and which falls cruelly foul
of the Morning Herald. " Courvoisier is dead," says the Observer :
" he died as he had lived — a villain ; a lie was in his mouth.
Peace be to his ashes. We war not with the dead." What a
magnanimous Observer ! From this. Observer turns to the
Herald, and says, "Fiat justitia, ruat ccelum." So nuich for the
Herald.
We quote from memory, and tlie (juotation I'rom the Observer
possibly is, — " De mortuis nil nisi l)oiuHn:" or, " Omne ignotum
pro magnifico ; " or, " Sero iiuii(|uam est ad Imhios iiKircsvia;" or,
" Ingenuas didicisse fidelitcr artes emollit mores ncc sinit esse
feros : " all of which pithy Koman apophthegms woulil ai)j)ly just
as well.
" Peace be to his ashes. He died a villain." This is both
benevolence and reason. Did he die a villain % The Observer does
not want to destroy him body and soul, evidently, from that j)ious
wish that his ashes should be at peace. Is the next Monday but
one after the sentence the time necessary for a villain to repent in 1
May a man not require more leisure — a week more — six months
more — before he has been able to make his repentance sure b(^fore
Him who died f(n" us all? — for all, be it remembered, — not alone for
the judge and juiy, or for the sheriffs, or for the executioner who is
pulling down the legs of the i)risoner, — Imt for him too, nnu'derer
and criminal as he is, whom we are killing for his crime. Do we
want to kill him body and soul 1 Heaven forbid ! My Lord in the
black cap specially prays that Heaven may have mercy on him ; but
he must be ready by Monday morning.
Look at the documents which came from the prison of this
unhap])y Courvoisier during the few days which passed betM-een his
trial and execution. Were ever letters more painful to read ? At
first, his statements are false, contradictory, lying. He has not
repented then. His last declaration seems to be honest, as far as
the relation of the crime goes. But read the rest of his statement,
the account of his personal history, and the crimes M'hich he com-
648 GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED
mitted in his young days, — then " ho-w the evil thought came to
him to put his hand to the work," — it is evidently the writing of a
mad, distracted man. The horrid gallows is perpetually before him ;
he is wild witli dread and remorse. Clergnnen are with him cease-
lessly ; religious tracts are forced into his hands ; night and day
they ply him with the heinousness of his crime, and exhortations to
repentancfe. Read througli that last paper of his ; by Heaven, it is
l)itiful to read it. See the Scripture phrases brought in now and
anon; the peculiar terms of tract-plu-aseology (I do not wish to
speak of these often meritorious publications with disrespect) ; one
knows too well how such language is learned, — imitated from the
priest at the bedside, eagerly seized and appropriated, and conibunded
by the poor prisoner.
But murder is such a monstrous crime (this is the great argu-
ment), — when a man has killed another it is natural tliat he should
be killed. Away with your foolish sentimentalists who say no — it
is natural. That is the word, and a fine philosophical opinion it is
— philosophical and Christian. Kill a man, and you must be killed
in turn : that is the unavoidable sequitur. You may talk to a man
for a year upon the subject, and he will always reply to you, "It is
natural, and therefore it must be done. Blood demanils blood."
Does it ? The system of compensations might be carried on ad
infinituvi, — an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, as by the old
Mosaic law. But (putting the fact out of the question, that we
have had this statute repealed by the Highest Authority), why,
because you lose your eye, is that of vour opponent to be extracted
likewise 1 Where is the reason tor the practice ? And yet it is
just as natural as the death dictum, founded precisely upon the
same show of sense. Knowing, however, that revenge is not only
evil, but useless, we have given it up on all minor points. Only to
the last we stick firm, contrary though it be to reason and to
Christian law.
There is some talk, too, of the terror which the sight of this
spectacle inspires, and of this we have endeavoured to give as good
a notion as we can in the above pages. I fully confess that I came
away down Snow Hill that morning with a disgust for murder, but
it was for the murder I saw done. As we made our way through
the immense croAvd, we came upon two little girls of eleven and
twelve years : one of them was crving bitteriv, and begged, for
Heaven s sake, that some one would lead her from that horrid ]ilace.
This was done, and the children were carried into a place of safety.
We asked the elder giri — and a very pretty one— what brought her
into such a neighbourhood ? Tlie child grinned knowingly, and said,
"We've koom to see the mon hanged ! " Tender law, that brings
GOING TO SEE A MAN HANGED 649
out babes upon such errands, and provides them with such gratifying
moral spectacles !
This is the 20th of July, and I may be permitted for my part
to declare that, for . the last foutteen days, so salutary has the
impression of the butchery been upon me, I have had the man's
face continually before my eyes ; that I can see Mr. Ketch at this
moment, with an easy air, taking the rope from his pocket ; that I
feel myself ashamed and degraded at the brutal curiosity which
took me to that brutal sight ; and that I pray to Almi,<rhty God
to cause this disgraceful sin to pass from among us, and to cleanse
our land of blood.
THE END
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