*ir 
 
 / oifjer 
 
 suritft
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 CM 
 
 0/ BEAU BROCADE 
 of the English Edition. 
 
 In deference to the wishes of collectors 
 it is issued with the English imprint solely, 
 but it is published in United States by 
 arrangement with the author and English 
 publishers by 
 
 T>ODD, [MEAD <& COMPANY, 
 
 New York.
 
 THE HA I, LAD OF BEAU BROCADE, ETC.
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR. 
 
 OLD-WORLD IDYLLS. Eleventh Edition. 1892. 
 
 AT THE SIGN OF THE LYRE. Eighth Edition. 1891. 
 
 In the " Parchment Library" (Edited). 
 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURY ESSAYS. With an Intro- 
 duction and Notes. 
 
 FABLES OF MR. JOHN GAY. With a Memoir. 
 
 THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD. With a Preface and 
 Notes. 
 
 SELECTED POEMS OF MATTHEW PRIOR. With an 
 Introduction and Notes.
 
 /
 
 co 
 
 /fo m 
 
 If c. 
 r^ffh 
 
 u
 
 THIRD EDITION.
 
 Coia 
 
 (*.- 
 
 TO 
 
 LADY 1JONVEN. 
 
 ' FOR OLD SAKK'S SAKE.' 
 
 For old sake i sake ! ' ' Tu'erc hard to choo-f 
 \\'ords fitter for an old-world Muse 
 Than these, that in their cadence bring 
 Faint fragrance of the posy-ring. 
 And charms that rustic lovers use. 
 
 Life's journey lengthens, and we lose 
 The first pale flush, the morning hues, 
 Ah ! but the back-look, lingering, 
 For old sake's sake .' 
 
 That <i'c retain. Though Time refuse 
 
 To lift the veil on foi'.vard views. 
 Despot in most, he is not Kin^ 
 Of those kind memories that din if 
 
 A round his travelled avenues 
 
 I'or old sakes sake .'
 
 I'RKKATORY NOTE. 
 
 Concerning f/ic eight pieces here reprinted from 
 "Old-World Idylls" and" 'At the Sign of the 
 Lyre," it is only necessary to say tliat tlicv have 
 been cliosen because, being laid in the last Cen- 
 tury, they appeared to present a congenial field 
 for the artistic ingenuity of Mr. Hugh Thomson, 
 who, not-withstanding the pressure of other ditties, 
 has illustrated them icitli an ability i^hich I can 
 only admire, a/id a personal enthusiasm for wliicli 
 I can scarcely be sufficiently grateful. 
 
 AUSTIN Doiisox. 
 
 September, 1892.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 I'AGB 
 
 THE HAI.I.AD OF KEAT HROCADK i 
 
 A GENTLEMAN OK THE OLD SCHOOI 23 
 
 A GENTLEWOMAN OK T1IK, Ol.l) SciKlOI 37 
 
 A DEAD LK.TTKK 47 
 
 TMK OLD SEDAN CIIAIK 59 
 
 THE LADIES OK Si. JAMES'S 65 
 
 MOLLY TKEKUSIS 71 
 
 A CHAPTER OK I-'ROISSART 79 
 
 NOTES . . 87
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 I'AGE 
 
 " She once had been the rage " I-'i'ontiipiect 
 
 "Turned King's evidence " 'J'o face \ 
 
 Heading to poem i 
 
 "Would ' club ' for a guard " To face 3 
 
 " The Oak and (.'ro\vn " 3 
 
 " Straining and creaking " 4 
 
 Courtesies of the Road 7<> face 5 
 
 " Where the best strong waters are v 6 
 
 'Sympathy, horror, and wonderment" .... Xi> face 6 
 
 " Outspoke Dolly the Chambermaid " .... .. o 
 
 " George the Guard " ., 8 
 
 I leading to Part II 9 
 
 " And drums were banged " 'J'o face 10 
 
 " Saddling the gray marc " I I 
 
 "Clattered away to 'Exciseman's Folly '" 15 
 
 " Came cantering into the view " 14 
 
 "Jotted her down on the spot" 'J\> face \~ 
 
 The Finish of Keau Hrocade iS 
 
 " Fnsign (of Hragg's) " 20
 
 xii List of Illustrations. 
 
 I' AGE 
 
 " To catch the cuckoo's call " To Jace 23 
 
 Heading to poem 23 
 
 In the garden 25 
 
 In the Mall 27 
 
 " When Sweetlip swelled its jovial riot " 28 
 
 ' ' A sunny summer doze " 30 
 
 " Sorrel " 32 
 
 " She'd still her beau " To face 37 
 
 Heading to poem 37 
 
 " The warm west-looking window seat " . . . To face 41 
 
 " Delighted in his dry bon-mots " ,, 43 
 
 " The almond tree " ,, 44 
 
 " By the broken stile " ,, 47 
 
 Heading to poem 47 
 
 " Sam's two eyes are all for Cissy " To face 51 
 
 Tail piece 55 
 
 " As he lifts her out light " To face 59 
 
 Heading to poem 59 
 
 " But prone, on a question of fare " To face 61 
 
 " They frown on you for weeks ,, 65 
 
 Heading to poem 65 
 
 " And runs to gather May dew " To face 66 
 
 " Was she wooed ?" , 71 
 
 Heading to poem "i 
 
 " Miss Molly Trefusis " To face 72 
 
 " 'Twas a knight of the shire " ., 74
 
 List of Illustrations. xiii 
 
 Tailpiece ("A Tuast '') 
 
 " An ivy leaf for ' Orchard corner '" 
 
 Heading to poem 
 
 The leaf-stained chapter 
 
 Tailpiece to " Notes ''
 
 THE BALLAD OF BEAU BROCADE.
 
 m ] 
 
 a 
 
 ^" : i 
 
 W*-, 
 
 i*ii\. \p. 
 
 A^M 
 
 ^Ai 
 
 - ~ 
 
 i;Vi;XTKi:X hundred and thirtv-ninc 
 
 J 
 
 1 hat was the date of this tale of mine,
 
 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" 
 
 And people of rank, to correct their " tone," 
 Went out of town to Marybone. 
 
 Those were the days of the War with Spain, 
 PORTO-BELLO would soon be ta'en ; 
 
 WHITEFIELD preached to the colliers grim, 
 Bishops in lawn sleeves preached at him ; 
 
 WALPOLE talked of " a man and his price " ; 
 Nobody's virtue was over-nice : 
 
 Those, in fine, were the brave days when 
 Coaches were stopped by ... Highwaymen ! 
 
 And of all the knights of the gentle trade 
 Nobody bolder than " BEAU BROCADE." 
 
 This they knew on the whole way down ; 
 Best, maybe, at the " Oak and Crown"
 
 The Ballad oj "Bean Brocade." 3 
 
 (For timorous cits on their pilgrimage 
 
 Would "club" for a "Guard" to ride the stage; 
 
 And the Guard that rode on more than one 
 Was the Host of this hostel's sister's son.) 
 
 ^SSi^tfSPM^ ^<\ f &- 
 
 ^ 
 
 Open \vc liere on a March-day fine, 
 
 Under the oak with the hanging sign. 
 
 There was Barber DICK with his basin by; 
 Cobbler JOK with the patch on his eye;
 
 4 T/ie Ballad of "Beau Brocade" 
 
 Portly product of Beef and Beer, 
 JOHN the host, he was standing near. 
 
 Straining and creaking, with wheels awry, 
 Lumbering came the "Plymouth Fly" ; 
 
 Lumbering up from Bagshot Heath, 
 Guard in the basket armed to the teeth ; 
 
 Passengers heavily armed inside ; 
 
 Not the less surely the coach had been tried
 
 77/6' Ballad of " Beau Brocade" 5 
 
 Tried ! but a couple of miles away, 
 
 By a well-dressed man ! in the open day ! 
 
 Tried successfully, never a doubt, 
 Pockets of passengers all turned out ! 
 
 Cloak-bags rifled, and cushions ripped, 
 Even an Ensign's wallet stripped ! 
 
 Even a Methodist hosier's wife 
 
 Offered the choice of her Money or Life ! 
 
 Highwayman's manners no less polite, 
 
 Hoped that their coppers (returned) were right ; -
 
 6 The Ballad of "Beau Brocade!' 
 
 Sympathy ! horror ! and wonderment ! 
 
 " Catch the Villain ! " (But Nobody went.) 
 
 Hosier's wife led into the Bar ; 
 
 (That 's where the best strong waters are !)
 
 The Ballad of "Beau Brocade." 7 
 
 Followed the tale of the hundred-and-one 
 Things that Somebody ought to have done. 
 
 Ensign (of BRAGG'S) made a terrible clangour : 
 But for the Ladies had drawn his hanger ! 
 
 Robber, of course, was ' BEAU BROCADE " ; 
 Out-spoke DOLLY the Chambermaid. 
 
 Devonshire DOLLY, plump and red, 
 Spoke from the gallery overhead ; 
 
 Spoke it out boldly, staring hard : 
 
 "Why did n't you shoot then, GEORGE the Guard?" 
 
 Spoke it out bolder, seeing him mute : 
 
 " GEORGE the Guard, why did n't you shoot ? '' 
 
 Portly JOHN grew pale and red, 
 (JOHN was afraid of her, people said :)
 
 8 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" 
 
 Gasped that " DOLLY was surely cracked," 
 (JOHN was afraid of her that 's a fact !) 
 
 GEORGE the Guard grew red and pale, 
 Slowly finished his quart of ale : 
 
 " Shoot ? Why Rabbit him ! did n't he shoot ? " 
 Muttered "The Baggage was far too 'cute !" 
 
 " Shoot ? Why he 'd flashed the pan in his eye ! " 
 Muttered " She 'd pay for it by and by ! " 
 Further than this made no reply. 
 
 Nor could a further reply be made, 
 
 For GEORGE was in league with " BEAU BROCADE " ! 
 
 And JOHN the Host, in his wakefullest state, 
 Was not on the whole immaculate. 
 
 But nobody's virtue was over-nice 
 
 When WALPOLE talked of "a man and his price" ;
 
 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade." 9 
 
 And wherever Purity found abode, 
 'Twas certainly not on a posting road. 
 
 " Forty" followed to "Thirty-nine.'' 
 (ilorious days of the Hauorcr line ! 
 
 Princes were horn, and drums were banged 
 Now and then batches of Highwaymen hanged.
 
 io The Ballad of " B call, Brocade." 
 
 " Glorious news ! " for the liquor trade ; 
 Nobody dreamed of " BEAU BROCADE." 
 
 People were thinking of Spanish Crowns; 
 Money was coming from seaport towns ! 
 
 Nobody dreamed of " BEAU BROCADE," 
 (Only DOLLY the Chambermaid !) 
 
 Blessings on VERNON ! Fill up the cans ; 
 Money was coming in "flys" and "Vans." 
 
 Possibly, JOHN the Host had heard ; 
 Also, certainly, GEORGE the Guard. 
 
 And DOLLY had possibly tidings, too, 
 That made her rise from her bed anew, 
 
 Plump as ever, but stern of eye, 
 
 With a fixed intention to warn the "Fly."
 
 *acf c/r-<jrr\j were
 
 The Ballad of " Becui Brocade" i i 
 
 Lingering only at JOHN his door, 
 Just to make sure of a jerky snore ; 
 
 Saddling the gray mare. Dumpling Star; 
 Fetching the pistol out of tin; bar :
 
 1 2 The Ballad of "Beau Brocade" 
 
 (The old horse-pistol that, they say, 
 Came from the battle of Malplaquet /) 
 
 Loading with powder that maids would use, 
 Even in " Forty," to clear the flues ; 
 
 And a couple of silver buttons, the Squire 
 Gave her, away in Devonshire. 
 
 These she wadded for want of better 
 With the B SH p of L ND N'S " Pastoral 
 Letter " : 
 
 Looked to the flint, and hung the whole, 
 Ready to use, at her pocket-hole. 
 
 Thus equipped and accoutred, DOLLY 
 Clattered away to "Exciseman's Folly" ; 
 
 Such was the name of a ruined abode, 
 Just on the edge of the London road.
 
 T/ic J nil lad of " Beau Brocade. " 13 
 
 Thence she thought she might safely try, 
 As soon as she saw it, to warn the "I'/}'." 

 
 1 4 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade. " 
 
 By the light of the moon she could see him drest 
 In his famous gold-sprigged tambour vest ; 
 
 And under his silver-gray surtout, 
 The laced, historical coat of blue,
 
 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" i 5 
 
 That he wore when he went to London-Spaw, 
 And robbed Sir MUNGO MUCKLKTHRAW. 
 
 Out-spoke Doi. LV the Chambermaid, 
 
 (Trembling a little, but not afraid,) 
 
 "Stand and Deliver, O ' EKAU EROCADK' I" 
 
 l!ut the EKAU rode nearer, and would not speak, 
 For he saw by the moonlight a rosy cheek ; 
 
 And a spavined mare with a rusty hide ; 
 And a girl with her hand at her pocket-side. 
 
 So never a word he spoke as yet, 
 
 For he thought 'twas a freak of MKG or EKT ; 
 
 A freak of the "Rose" or the "Rummer'' 1 set. 
 
 Out-spoke Dou.v the Chambermaid, 
 
 (Tremulous now, and sore afraid,) 
 
 " Stand and 1 )eliver, O ' EKAU EKOCADK ' ! "-
 
 1 6 The Ballad of '" Beau Brocade" 
 
 Firing then, out of sheer alarm, 
 Hit the BEAU in the bridle-arm. 
 
 Button the first went none knows where, 
 But it carried away his solitaire ; 
 
 Button the second a circuit made, 
 Glanced in under the shoulder blade ; 
 Down from the saddle fell " BEAU BROCADE" ! 
 
 Down from the saddle and never stirred ! 
 DOLLY grew white as a Windsor curd. 
 
 Slipped not less from the mare, and bound 
 Strips of her kirtle about his wound. 
 
 Then, lest his Worship should rise and flee, 
 Fettered his ankles tenderly. 
 
 Jumped on his chestnut, BET the fleet 
 (Called after BET of Portugal Street};
 
 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" \ 7 
 
 Came like the wind to the old Inn-door; 
 Roused fat JOHN from a three-fold snore; 
 
 Vowed she 'd 'peach if he misbehaved . . . 
 Briefly, the "Plymouth Fly" was saved ! 
 
 Statues and Windsor were all on lire : 
 DOI.LV was wed to a Yorkshire squire; 
 Went to Town at the K o's desire ! 
 
 But whether His M j STY saw her or not, 
 HOC.ARTH jolted her down on the spot ; 
 
 And something of DOLLY one still may trace 
 In the fresh contours of his "Milkmaid's'''' face. 
 
 (iKOR(;K the (iuard fled over the sea : 
 JOHN had a fit of perplexity ; 
 
 Turned King's evidence, sad to state : 
 But JOHN was never immaculate, 
 c
 
 1 8 The Ballad of "Beau Brocade" 
 
 As for the BEAU, he was duly tried, 
 
 When his wound was healed, at Whitsuntide ; 
 
 Served for a day as the last of " sights," 
 
 To the world of St. fames' s-Street and " White's ", 
 
 Went on his way to TYBURN TREE, 
 With a pomp befitting his high degree. 
 
 Every privilege rank confers : 
 Bouquet of pinks at St. Sepulchre's ; 
 
 Flagon of ale at Holborn Bar ; 
 
 Friends (in mourning) to follow his Car 
 
 ("t" is omitted where HEROES are !) 
 
 Every one knows the speech he made ; 
 Swore that he " rather admired the Jade ! "- 
 
 Waved to the crowd with his gold-laced hat : 
 Talked to the Chaplain after that ;
 
 The Ballad of " Beau Brocade" 19 
 
 Turned to the Topsman undismayed . . . 
 This was the finish of " BKAU BROCADE" ! 
 
 And this is the Ballad that seemed to hide 
 
 In the leaves of a dusty " LONDONER'S GUIDE"; 
 
 "Humbly Inscribed" (until curls and tails] 
 
 By the Author to FREDERICK, Prince of WALES : 
 
 "Published by FRANCIS and OLIVER PINE ; 
 Ludgate-HiU) at the Blackmoor Sign. 
 Seventeen-Hundred-and-Thirty-Nine?
 
 A (1KNTI.KMAN OF THE OLD SCHOOL.
 
 "X ^^^^v^l^Wivr'^v - V;t<-' ( ;u f .--
 
 E lived in that past (Georgian day, 
 When men were less inclined to say 
 That "Time is Gold," and overlay 
 
 With toil their pleasure ; 
 He held some land, and dwelt thereon, 
 Where, I forget, the house is gone : 
 His Christian name, I think, was John, 
 His surname, Leisure.
 
 24 A Gentleman of the Old School. 
 
 Reynolds has painted him, a face 
 Filled with a fine, old-fashioned grace, 
 Fresh-coloured, frank, with ne'er a trace 
 
 Of trouble shaded ; 
 The eyes are blue, the hair is drest 
 In plainest way, one hand is prest 
 Deep in a flapped canary vest, 
 
 With buds brocaded. 
 
 He wears a brown old Brunswick coat, 
 With silver buttons, round his throat, 
 A soft cravat ; in all you note 
 
 An elder fashion, 
 A strangeness, which, to us who shine 
 In shapely hats, whose coats combine 
 All harmonies of hue and line, 
 
 Inspires compassion.
 
 4 Gentleman of the Old School. 25 
 
 He lived so long ago, you see ! 
 Men were untravelled then, but \ve, 
 Like Ariel, post o'er land and sea 
 
 With careless parting ; 
 
 m^lfe^-i'^' S '> 1 
 
 He found it quite enough for him 
 'I'o smoke his pi[)e in ''garden trim," 
 And watch, about the fish tank's brim 
 The swallows darting.
 
 26 A Gentleman of the Old School. 
 
 He liked the well-wheel's creaking tongue, 
 He liked the thrush that stopped and sung, 
 He liked the drone of flies among 
 
 His netted peaches ; 
 He liked to watch the sunlight fall 
 Athwart his ivied orchard wall ; 
 Or pause to catch the cuckoo's call 
 
 Beyond the beeches. 
 
 His were the times of Paint and Patch, 
 And yet no Ranelagh could match 
 The sober doves that round his thatch 
 
 Spread tails and sidled ; 
 He liked their ruffling, puffed content, 
 For him their drowsy wheelings meant 
 More than a Mall of Beaux that bent, 
 
 Or Belles that bridled.
 
 A Gentleman of t lie Old School. 27 
 
 Not that, in truth, when life began 
 He shunned the flutter of the fan ; 
 He too had maybe " pinked his man " 
 In Beauty's quarrel : 
 
 m 
 
 P>ut now his "fervent youth" had flown 
 Where lost things go : and he was grown 
 As staid and slow-paced as his own 
 Old hunter. Sorrel.
 
 28 A Gentleman of the Old School. 
 
 Yet still he loved the chase, and held 
 That no composer's score excelled 
 
 The merry horn, when Sweetlip swelled 
 Its jovial riot ;
 
 A Gentleman of the Old ScJwol. 29 
 
 But most his measured words of praise- 
 Caressed the angler's easy ways, 
 
 Mis idly meditative days,-- 
 
 His rustic diet.
 
 30 A Gentleman of the Old School. 
 
 Not that his " meditating " rose 
 Beyond a sunny summer doze ; 
 He never troubled his repose 
 
 With fruitless prying ; 
 But held, as law for high and low, 
 What God withholds no man can know 
 And smiled away inquiry so, 
 
 Without replying. 
 
 We read alas, how much we read ! 
 The jumbled strifes of creed and creed 
 With endless controversies feed 
 
 Our groaning tables ; 
 His books and they sufficed him were 
 Cotton's " Montaigne," " The Grave " of Blair, 
 A " Walton " much the worse for wear, 
 
 And ".^sop's Fables."
 
 A Gentleman of the Old School. 3 1 
 
 One more, "The Bible.'' Not that he 
 Had searched its page as deep as we ; 
 No sophistries could make him see 
 
 Its slender credit ; 
 It may be that he could not count 
 The sires and sons to Jesse's fount, 
 He liked the ''Sermon on the Mount, "- 
 
 And more, he read it. 
 
 Once he had loved, but foiled to \ved, 
 A red-cheeked lass \vho long was dead ; 
 His ways were far too slow, lie said, 
 
 To <mite forget her ; 
 
 Ami still when time had turned him gray, 
 The earliest hawthorn buds in May 
 Would find his lingering feet astray, 
 
 Where first he met her.
 
 ! 2 A Gentleman of the Old School, 
 
 "In Ccelo Qtiies" heads the stone 
 On Leisure's grave, now little known, 
 A tangle of wild-rose has grown 
 So thick across it ; 
 
 The " Benefactions " still declare 
 He left the clerk an elbow-chair, 
 And " 12 Pence Yearly to Prepare 
 A Christmas Posset."
 
 A Gentleman of the Old School. 
 
 Lie softly, Leisure ! 1 )oubtless you. 
 With too serene a conscience drew 
 Your easy breath, and slumbered through 
 
 The gravest issue : 
 But we, to whom our age allows 
 Scarce space to wipe our weary brows, 
 Look clown upon your narrow house, 
 
 Old friend, and miss you !
 
 A (;LXTLL\VOMA\ OK THL OLD SCHOOL.
 
 HE lived in Georgian era too. 
 !ji Most women then, if bards be 
 
 true, 
 Succumbed to Routs and Cards, or grew 
 
 Devout and acid. 
 
 But hers was neither fate. She came 
 Of good west-country folk, whose fame 
 Has faded now. For us her name 
 Is "Madam Placid."
 
 38 A Gentlewoman of the Old School. 
 
 Patience or Prudence, what you will, 
 Some prefix faintly fragrant still 
 As those old musky scents that fill 
 
 Our grandams' pillows 
 And for her youthful portrait take 
 Some long-waist child of Hudson's make, 
 Stiffly at ease beside a lake 
 
 With swans and willows. 
 
 I keep her later semblance placed 
 Beside my desk, 'tis lawned and laced, 
 In shadowy sanguine stipple traced 
 
 By Bartolozzi ; 
 
 A placid face, in which surprise 
 Is seldom seen, but yet there lies 
 Some vestige of the laughing eyes 
 
 Of arch Pio/xi.
 
 A Gentlewoman of the Old School. 39 
 
 For her e'en Time grew debonair. 
 He, finding cheeks unclaimed of care, 
 With late-delayed faint roses there, 
 
 And lingering dimples, 
 Had spared to touch the fair old face, 
 And only kissed with Yauxhall grace 
 The soft white hand that stroked her lace, 
 
 Or smoothed her wimples. 
 
 So left her beautiful. Her age 
 Was comely as her youth was sage. 
 And yet she once had been the rage : 
 
 It hath been hinted. 
 Indeed, affirmed by one or two, 
 Some spark at Bath (as sparks will do) 
 Inscribed a song to " Lovely Prue," 
 
 Which I'rban printed.
 
 40 A Gentleiuoman of the Old ScJiool. 
 
 I know she thought ; I know she felt ; 
 Perchance could sum, I doubt she spelt ; 
 She knew as little of the Celt 
 
 As of the Saxon ; 
 
 I know she played and sang, for yet 
 We keep the tumble-down spinet 
 To which she quavered ballads set 
 
 By Arne or Jackson. 
 
 Her tastes were not refined as ours ; 
 She liked plain food and homely flowers, 
 Refused to paint, kept early hours, 
 
 Went clad demurely ; 
 Her art was sampler-work design, 
 Fireworks for her were "vastly fine," 
 Her luxury was elder-wine, 
 
 She loved that "purely. 1 '
 
 A Gentlewoman of the Old School. 41 
 
 She was renowned, traditions say, 
 
 For June conserves, for curds and whey, 
 
 For finest tea (she called it " tay "), 
 
 And ratafia ; 
 
 She knew, for sprains, what bands to choose, 
 Could tell the sovereign wash to use 
 For freckles, and was learned in brews 
 
 As erst Medea. 
 
 Vet studied little. She would read, 
 On Sundays, " Pearson on the Creed," 
 Though, as I think, she could not heed 
 
 1 1 is text profoundly : 
 Seeing she chose for her retreat 
 The warm west-looking window-seat, 
 Where, if you chanced to raise your feet 
 
 You slumbered soundlv.
 
 42 A Gentlewoman of 'the Old School. 
 
 This, 'twixt ourselves. The dear old dame, 
 In truth, was not so much to blame ; 
 The excellent divine I name 
 
 Is scarcely stirring ; 
 Her plain-song piety preferred 
 Pure life to precept. If she erred, 
 She knew her faults. Her softest word 
 
 Was for the errinir. 
 
 If she had loved, or if she kept 
 Some ancient memory green, or wept 
 Over the shoulder-knot that slept 
 
 Within her cuff-box, 
 I know not. Only this 1 know. 
 At sixty-five she 'd still her beau, 
 A lean French exile, lame and slow, 
 
 With monstrous snuff-box.
 
 A Gentlewoman of t lie Old School. 43 
 
 Younger than she, well-born and bred. 
 She VI found him in St. (liles', half dead 
 Of teaching French for nightly bed 
 
 And daily dinners : 
 
 Starving, in fact, 'twixt want and pride : 
 And so. henceforth, you always spied 
 His rusty "pigeon-wings" beside 
 
 Her Mechlin pinners. 
 
 He worshipped her. you may suppose. 
 She. gained him pupils, gave him clothes. 
 Delighted in his dry bon-mots 
 
 And cackling laughter : 
 And when, at last, the long duet 
 ( )t conversation and pic<|iiet 
 Ceased with her death, of .sheer regret 
 
 1 le died soon alter.
 
 44 A Gentlewoman of the Old School. 
 
 Dear Madam Placid ! Others knew 
 Your worth as well as he, and threw 
 Their flowers upon your coffin too, 
 
 I take for granted. 
 
 Their loves are lost ; hut still we see 
 Your kind and gracious memory 
 Bloom yearly with the almond tree 
 
 The Frenchman planted.
 
 A DEAD LETTER.
 
 liSratf 
 
 ^,|<3f*?f ^ftP 
 
 !.iWtf (rftifr 6feJS(- /cn/6ff etk si(em^\ff 
 
 ye & Sat 
 wg^--- -' 
 
 i 
 
 |)R1 ; .\\ it from its china tomb; 
 
 It came out feebly scented 
 With some thin ^host of past 
 
 perfume 
 That dust and davs had lent it. 
 
 An old, old letter, folded still ! 
 
 To read with due composure, 
 I sought the sun-lit window-sill, 
 
 Above the u'rav enclosure.
 
 48 A Dead Letter. 
 
 That glimmering in the sultry haze, 
 Faint-flowered, dimly shaded, 
 
 Slumbered like Goldsmith's Madam Blaize, 
 Bedizened and brocaded. 
 
 A queer old place ! You 'd surely say 
 Some tea-board garden-maker 
 
 Had planned it in Dutch William's day 
 To please some florist Quaker, 
 
 So trim it was. The yew-trees still, 
 
 With pious care perverted, 
 Grew in the same grim shapes ; and still 
 
 The lipless dolphin spurted ; 
 
 Still in his wonted state abode 
 
 The broken-nosed Apollo : 
 And still the cypress-arbour showed 
 
 The same umbrageous hollow.
 
 A Dead Letter. 49 
 
 Only,- -as fresh young Beauty gleams 
 
 From coffee-coloured laces, -- 
 So peeped from its old-fashioned dreams 
 
 The fresher modern traces : 
 
 For idle mallet, hoop, and ball 
 
 Upon the lawn were lying : 
 A maga/ine, a tumbled shawl, 
 
 Round which the swifts were flying ; 
 
 And tossed beside the (Judder rose, 
 
 A heap of rainbow knitting, 
 Where, blinking in her pleased repose, 
 
 A Persian cat was sitting. 
 
 "A place to love in, live, for aye, 
 
 If we too, like Tithonus, 
 Could find some (Jod to stretch the gray. 
 
 Scant life tin- Fates have thrown us ; 
 
 r.
 
 50 A Dead Letter. 
 
 " But now by steam we run our race, 
 With buttoned heart and pocket ; 
 
 Our Love 's a gilded, surplus grace, 
 Just like an empty locket ! 
 
 " 'The time is out of joint.' Who will, 
 May strive to make it better : 
 
 For me, this warm old window-sill, 
 And this old dusty letter." 
 
 II. 
 <l Dear John (the letter ran), it can't, can't be, 
 
 For Father 's gone to Chorlcy Fair with Sam, 
 And Mother 's storing Apples, Prue and Me 
 
 Up to our Elbows making Damson Jam : 
 But we shall meet before a Week is gone, 
 ^'Tis a long Lane that has no Turning,' John!
 
 *-Jam'f tux. i\jtf arf aft" h:* 
 . /^ -^ - 
 
 V /JJ V
 
 A Dead Letter. 5 
 
 'Only till Sunday next, ami then you'll wait 
 Behind the White-Thorn, by the broken Stile 
 
 \Ve ran go round and catch them at the date, 
 All to Ourselves, for nearly one long Mile ; 
 
 Dear Pntc won't look, and Father he 11 go on, 
 
 And Sa /it's two Kyes are all for Cissv. "'J'ohn .' 
 
 '' ""jf^/in, she 's so smart, with every Ribbon new, 
 Manic-coloured Sack, and Crimson Padesoy : 
 
 As proud as proud : and has the Vapours too. 
 fust like My Lady: calls poor So in a Boy, 
 
 And vows no Sweet-heart s worth tin- Thinking-on 
 
 Till lie's past Thirty ... 1 know better. ~~ft'li>i.' 
 
 ' My Dear, 1 don't think that 1 thought of much 
 Before we knew each other, I and you; 
 
 And now, why, '~~folin, your least, least Hnger-touch, 
 dives me enough to think a Summer through.
 
 52 A Dead Letter. 
 
 See, for I send you Something ! There, 'tis gone ! 
 Look in this corner, mind you find it, John .' " 
 
 ill. 
 
 This was the matter of the note, - 
 
 A long-forgot deposit. 
 Dropped in an Indian dragon's throat, 
 
 Deep in a fragrant closet, 
 
 Piled with a dapper Dresden world,- 
 Beaux, beauties, prayers, and poses, 
 
 Bonzes with squat legs undercurled, 
 And great jars filled with roses. 
 
 Ah, heart that wrote ! Ah, lips that kissed 
 You had no thought or presage 
 
 Into what keeping you dismissed 
 Your simple old-world message !
 
 A Dead Letter. 53 
 
 A reverent one. Though we to-day 
 
 Distrust beliefs and powers. 
 The artless, ageless things you say 
 
 Arc 1 fresh as May's own flowers. 
 
 Starring some pure- primeval spring, 
 
 Kre ( lold had grown despotic, 
 Kre Life was yet a selfish thing, 
 
 ( )r I ,ove a mere exotic ! 
 
 I need not search too much to find 
 
 Whose lot it was to send it, 
 That feel upon me yet the kind, 
 
 Soft hand of her who penned it : 
 
 And sec', through two scon. 1 years ot smoke, 
 
 In by-gone, quaint apparel. 
 Shine from yon time-black Norway oak 
 
 The face of Patience ('arvl.
 
 54 A Dead Letter. 
 
 The pale, smooth forehead, silver-tressed ; 
 
 The gray gown, primly flowered ; 
 The spotless, stately coif whose crest 
 
 Like Hector's horse-plume towered ; 
 
 And still the sweet half-solemn look 
 
 Where some past thought was clinging, 
 As when one shuts a serious book 
 
 To hear the thrushes singing. 
 
 I kneel to you ! Of those you were, 
 Whose kind old hearts grow mellow, 
 
 Whose fair old faces grow more fair 
 As Point and Flanders yellow ; 
 
 Whom some old store of garnered grief, 
 Their placid temples shading, 
 
 Crowns like a wreath of autumn leaf 
 With tender tints of fading.
 
 A Dead Letter. 
 
 Peace to your soul ! You died unwed 
 
 Despite this loving letter. 
 And what of John? The' less that 's said 
 
 Of John, I think, the better.
 
 THE OLD SEDAN CHAIR.

 
 ^T ->t.ui(i> in thr stable-yard, iiii(k-r iht- fi\\\'^. 
 Propped up by a broom-stick and covnvd with 
 
 Iravrs : 
 
 It once was tin- pride of the i^ay and the l;iir. 
 Hut now 'tis a ruin, that old Sudan chair !
 
 60 The Old Sedan Chair. 
 
 It is battered and tattered, it little avails 
 That once it was lacquered, and glistened with nails ; 
 For its leather is cracked into lozenge and square, 
 Like a canvas by Wilkie, that old Sedan chair ! 
 
 See, here came the bearing-straps ; here were the 
 
 holes 
 For the poles of the bearers when once there were 
 
 poles ; 
 
 It was cushioned with silk, it was wadded with hair, 
 As the birds have discovered, that old Sedan chair ! 
 
 "Where's Troy?" says the poet! Look, under the 
 
 seat, 
 
 Is a nest with four eggs, -'tis the favoured retreat 
 Of the Muscovy hen, who has hatched, I dare swear, 
 Quite an army of chicks in that old Sedan chair !
 
 Tlic Old Sedan Chair. 61 
 
 And yet Can't yon fancy a lace in the irame 
 Of the window, some high-headed damsel or dame, 
 Be-patched and he-powdered, just set bv the stair. 
 While the\' raise up the lid of that old Sedan chair? 
 
 Can't you fancy Sir Plume, as beside her he stands, 
 With his nifties a-droop on his delicate hands. 
 With his cinnamon coat, with his laced solitaire, 
 As he lifts her out light from that old Sedan chair? 
 
 Then it swings away slowly. Ah. many a league 
 It has trotted "twixt sturdy-legged Terence and Teague: 
 Stout fellows ! but prone, on a question of fare. 
 To brandish the poles of that old Sedan chair! 
 
 It has waited by portals where (iarrick has played : 
 It has waited by Heidegger's "(Irand Masquerade:" 
 For my Lady Codille. for my Lady IScllair, 
 It has waited and waited, that old Sedan chair !
 
 62 The Old Sedan Chair. 
 
 Oh, the scandals it knows I Oh, the tales it could tell 
 Of Drum and Ridotto, of Rake and of Belle, 
 Of Cock-fight and Levee, and (scarcely more rare!) 
 Of Fete-days at Tyburn, that old Sedan chair ! 
 
 " Heu ! quantum mutata" I say as I go. 
 It deserves better fate than a stable-yard, though ! 
 We must furbish it up, and dispatch it, -"With Care,"- 
 To a Fine-Art Museum that old Sedan chair !
 
 THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S.
 
 Vv;*. aft; /I*-? 
 
 s-'M m-M 
 
 , / -^'.'K f.'Pii ^uJwFi.^-, - v S , 
 
 , , --. -v - 
 
 m v 
 
 -? -, ^4i^ J 4&
 
 " Phyllida aino ante alias." 
 
 VlRO. 
 
 'HE ladies of St. James's 
 
 Go swinging to the play 
 Their footmen run before them, 
 
 With a " Stand by ! Clear the way ! " 
 But Phyllida, my Phyllida ! 
 
 She takes her buckled shoon, 
 When we go out a-courting 
 Beneath the harvest moon. 
 F
 
 66 The Ladies of St. James s. 
 
 The ladies of St. James's 
 
 Wear satin on their backs ; 
 They sit all night at Ombre, 
 
 With candles all of wax ; 
 But Phyllida, my Phyllida i 
 
 She dons her russet gown, 
 And runs to gather May dew 
 
 Before the world is down. 
 
 The ladies of St. James's ! 
 
 They are so fine and fair, 
 You 'd think a box of essences 
 
 Was broken in the air : 
 Hut Phyllida, my Phyllida ! 
 
 The breath of heath and furze, 
 When breezes blow at morning, 
 
 Is not so fresh as hers.
 

 
 The Ladies of St. James s. 67 
 
 The ladies of St. James's ! 
 
 They 're painted to the eyes ; 
 Their white it stays for ever, 
 
 Their red it never dies : 
 Hut Phyllida, my Phyllida ! 
 
 Her colour comes and goes ; 
 It trembles to a lily, 
 
 It wavers to a rose. 
 
 The ladies of St. James's ! 
 
 You scarce can understand 
 The half of all their speeches, 
 
 Their phrases are so grand: 
 Hut Phyllida, my Phyllida ! 
 
 Her shy and simple words 
 Are clear as after rain-drops 
 
 The music of the birds.
 
 68 The Ladies of St. James s. 
 
 The ladies of St. James's ! 
 
 They have their fits and freaks ; 
 They smile on you for seconds, 
 
 They frown on you for weeks : 
 But Phyllida, my Phyllida ! 
 
 Come either storm or shine, 
 From Shrove-tide unto Shrove-tide, 
 
 Is always true and mine. 
 
 My Phyllida ! my Phyllida ! 
 
 I care not though they heap 
 The hearts of all St. James's, 
 
 And give me all to keep ; 
 I care not whose the beauties 
 
 Of all the world may be, 
 For Phyllida for Phyllida 
 
 Is all the world to me !
 
 MOLLY TREFUSIS.

 
 or , 
 
 X. Vor a .Atiwe anc/ct Graff anc/'a >pnuv arc 
 S/(dar/7rt(e fc// r/af/j/" 
 
 he wrote, the old bard of an "old 
 
 maga/.ine : '' 
 As a study it not without use is, 
 If we wonder a moment who she may have been, 
 This same "little Molly Trefusis !" 
 
 She was Cornish. \\ e know that at once by the "Tre: ' 
 
 Then of guessing it scarce an abuse is 
 If we say that where Bude bellows back to the sea 
 
 Was the birthplace of Molly Trefusis.
 
 72 Molly Trcfusis. 
 
 And she lived in the era of patches and bows, 
 Not knowing what rouge or ceruse is ; 
 
 For they needed (I trust) but her natural rose, 
 The lilies of Molly Trefusis. 
 
 And I somehow connect her (I frankly admit 
 That the evidence hard to produce is) 
 
 With BATH in its hey-day of Fashion and Wit, 
 This dangerous Molly Trefusis. 
 
 I fancy her, radiant in ribbon and knot, 
 
 (How charming that old-fashioned puce is !) 
 
 All blooming in laces, fal-lals and what not, 
 At the PUMP ROOM, Miss Molly Trefusis. 
 
 I fancy her reigning, a Beauty, a Toast, 
 
 Where BLADUD'S medicinal cruse is ; 
 And we know that at least of one Bard it could boast,- 
 
 The Court of Queen Molly Trefusis.
 
 Molly Trcfnsis. 73 
 
 He says she was " VENUS.'' I doubt it. Beside, 
 
 (Vour rhymer so hopelessly loose is ! ) 
 His "little" could scarce be to Venus applied, 
 
 If fitly to Molly Trefusis. 
 
 No, no. It was HKHE he had in his mind : 
 
 And fresh as the handmaid of Zeus is, 
 And rosy, and rounded, and dimpled, you '11 find, 
 
 Was certainly Molly Trefusis ! 
 
 Then he calls her "a MUSE." To the charge I reply 
 That we all of us know what a Muse is ; 
 
 It is something too awful, too acid, - too dry, 
 For sunny-eyed Molly Trefusis. 
 
 But " a ( JKACE.'' There I grant he was probably right ; 
 
 (The rest but a verse-making ruse is) 
 It was all that was graceful, intangible, light, 
 
 The beautv of Molly Trefusis !
 
 74 Molly Trefusis. 
 
 Was she wooed ? Who can hesitate much about that 
 
 Assuredly more than obtuse is ; 
 For how could the poet have written so pat 
 
 " My dear little Molly Trefusis ! " 
 
 And was wed ? That I think we must plainly infer, 
 
 Since of suitors the common excuse is 
 To take to them Wives. So it happened to her, 
 
 Of course, "little Molly Trefusis !" 
 
 To the Bard? Tis unlikely. Apollo, you see, 
 
 In practical matters a goose is ; 
 'Twas a knight of the shire, and a hunting J.P., 
 
 Who carried off Molly Trefusis ! 
 
 And you '11 find, I conclude, in the "Gentleman's Mag." 
 
 At the end, where the pick of the news is, 
 " On the (blank), at ' the Bath] to Sir Hilary Bragg, 
 With a Fortune, Miss MOLLY TRKFUSIS."
 
 Molly Trefusis. 
 
 75 
 
 Thereupon . . But no farther the student may pry: 
 
 Love's temple is dark as Kleusis ; 
 So here, at the threshold, we part, you and I, 
 
 From "dear little Molly Trefusis.''
 
 A CHAPTER OF FROISSART.
 
 jfn j\>\j-(taf fa
 
 don't know l-'roissart now, young folks, 
 Tliis age, 1 think, prefers recitals 
 Of high-spiced crime, with "slang" for jokes, 
 And startling titles : 
 
 Hut, in my time, when still some few 
 
 Loved "old Montaigne," and praised Pope's Houici 
 (Nay, thought to style him "poet" too, 
 \\ ere scarce misnomer).
 
 8o A Chapter of Froissart. 
 
 Sir John was less ignored. Indeed, 
 
 I can re-call how Some-one present 
 (Who spoils her grandson, Frank ! ) would read, 
 And find him pleasant ; 
 
 For, by this copy, hangs a Tale. 
 
 Long since, in an old house in Surrey, 
 Where men knew more of " morning ale " 
 Than " Lindley Murray," 
 
 In a dim-lighted, whip-hung hall, 
 
 'Neath Hogarth's " Midnight Conversation," 
 It stood ; and oft 'twixt spring and fall, 
 With fond elation, 
 
 I turned the brown old leaves. For there 
 All through one hopeful happy summer, 
 At such a page (I well knew where), 
 Some secret comer,
 
 A Chapter of Froissart. 8 1 
 
 Whom I can picture, Trix, like you 
 
 (Though scarcely such a colt unbroken), 
 Would sometimes place for private view 
 A certain token ; 
 
 A rose-leaf meaning "Garden Wall," 
 An ivy-leaf for " Orchard corner," 
 A thorn to say, " Don't come at all,'"- 
 Umvelcome warner ! 
 
 Not that, in truth, our friends gainsaid : 
 
 But then Romance required dissembling, 
 (Ann Radcliffe taught us that !) which bred 
 Some genuine trembling : 
 
 Though, as a rule, all used to end 
 
 In such kind confidential parley 
 
 As may to you kind Fortune send. 
 
 You long-legged Charlie, 
 G
 
 82 A Chapter of Froissart. 
 
 When your time comes. How years slip on 
 
 We had our crosses like our betters ; 
 Fate sometimes looked askance upon 
 Those floral letters ; 
 
 And once, for three long days disdained, 
 
 The dust upon the folio settled ; 
 For some-one, in the right, was pained, 
 And some-one nettled, 
 
 That sure was in the wrong, but spake 
 
 Of fixed intent and purpose stony 
 To serve King George, enlist and make 
 
 Minced-meat of " Boney," 
 
 Who yet survived ten years at least. 
 
 And so, when she I mean came hither 
 One day that need for letters ceased, 
 
 She brought this with her.
 
 A Chapter of Froissart. 83 
 
 Here is the leaf-stained Chapter : How 
 
 The English King laid Siege to Calais ; 
 I think Gran, knows it even now, 
 Go ask her, Alice.
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 NOTE i, PAGE 7. 
 ''''Ensign (0/BRAGG's) made a terrible clangour.' 1 '' 
 
 DESPITE its suspicious appropriateness in this case, "Bragg's" 
 regiment of Foot-Guards really existed, and was ordered to 
 Flanders in April, 1742 (see Gentlemads Magazine, 1742, i. 217). 
 
 Porto- Bello was taken in November, 1739. But Vice-Admiral 
 Vernon's despatches did not reach England until the following 
 March (see Gentleman* s Magazine for 1740, i. 124, ct seq.). 
 
 NOTE 3, PAGE 17. 
 " /// the /rah contours of his ' Milkmaid's ' face." 
 
 See Hogarth's Enraged Musician, an engraving of which was 
 published in November of the following year (1741). To 
 annotate this Ballad mure fully would be easy ; but the reader 
 will perhaps take the details for granted. In answer to some 
 enquiries, it may, however, be stated that there is no foundation 
 in fact for the story.
 
 Notes. 
 
 NOTE 4, PAGE 61. 
 " To brandish the poles of that old Sedan Chair! " 
 
 A friendly critic, whose versatile pen it is not easy to mistake, 
 recalls, a-propos of the above, the following passage from 
 Moliere, which shows that Chairmen are much the same all 
 the world over : 
 
 " i Porteur (prenant un des batons de sa chaise). Ca, payez 
 
 nous vitement ! 
 Mascarille. Quoi ? 
 
 I Porteur. Je dis que je veitx avoir de V argent tout a V hcitre. 
 Mascarille. // est raisonnal'/e, cehii-la" etc. 
 
 Les Precieuses Ridicules, Sc. vii. 
 
 NOTE 5, PAGE 71. 
 MOLLY TREFUSIS. 
 
 The epigram here quoted from "an old magazine" is to be 
 found in the late Lord Neaves's admirable little volume, The 
 Greek Anthology (Blackwood's Ancient Classics for English 
 Readers}. Those familiar with eighteenth-century literature 
 will recognize in the verses that follow but another echo of 
 those lively stanzas of John Gay to " Molly Mogg of the 
 Rose," which found so many imitators in his own day.
 
 Notes. 
 
 89 
 
 Whether my heroine is to be identified with a certain " Miss 
 Trefusis " whose poems are sometimes to be found in the 
 second-hand booksellers' catalogues, I know not. But if she 
 is. I trust I have done her accomplished shade no wrong.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY, LOS ANGELES 
 
 COLLEGE LIBRARY 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Book Slip-25m-7,'61(C14o7s4)4280
 
 UCLA-College Library 
 
 PR 4606 B21 1892a 
 
 L 005 681 090 6 
 
 College 
 Library 
 
 PR 
 
 B21 
 I89?a 
 
 A 001 161 816 2