THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIEORNIA LOS ANGELES FROM THE LIBRARY OF JIM TULLY GIFT OF MRS. JIM TULLY THE WORKS OF WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY CORNHILL EDITION VOLUME XX T^i ^pjf^^jf^^. ■3 And so I sing and blush. Mamma, and that's the reason why. 64 RONSARD TO HIS MISTRESS " Quand vous serez bien vieille, le soir h. la chandelle Assise aupres du feu devisant et filant, Direz, cbantant mes vers en vous esraerveillant, Ronsard m'a c^lebrd du temps que j'^tois belle." Some winter night, shut snugly in Beside the fagot in the hall, I think I see you sit and spin. Surrounded by your maidens all. Old tales are told, old songs are sung, Old days come back to memory ; You say, " When I was fair and young, A poet sang of me ! " There's not a maiden in your hall, Though tired and sleepy ever so, But wakes, as you my name recall, And longs the history to know. And, as the piteous tale is said. Of lady cold and lover true, Each, musing, carries it to bed, And sighs and envies you ! " Our lady's old and feeble now," They'll say ; " she once was fresh and fair, And yet she spurn'd her lover's vow, And heartless left him to despair: 65 66 BALLADS The lover lies in silent earth, No kindly mate the lady cheers; She sits beside a lonely hearth, With threescore and ten years ! " Ah ! dreary thoughts and dreams are those, But wherefore yield me to despair, While yet the poet's bosom glows. While yet the dame is peerless fair ! Sweet lady mine ! while yet 'tis time Requite my passion and my truth. And gather in their blushing prime The roses of your youth ! AT THE CHURCH GATE Although I enter not, Yet round about the spot Ofttimes I hover: And near the sacred gate, With longing eyes I wait, Expectant of her. The Minster bell tolls out Above the city's rout. And noise and humming: They've hush'd the Minster bell: The organ 'gins to swell: She's coming, she's coming ! THE AGE OF WISDOM 67 IMy lady comes at last, Timid, and stepping fast, And hastening hither, With modest eyes downcast: She comes— she's here— she's past — May heaven go with her ! Kneel, undisturb'd, fair Saint ! Pour out your praise or plaint Meekly and duly; I will not enter there, To sully your pure prayer With thoughts unruly. But suffer me to pace Round the forbidden place, Lingering a minute Like outcast spirits who wait And see through heaven's gate Angels within it. THE AGE OF WISDOM Ho, pretty page, with the dimpled chin, That never has known the Barber's shear, All your wish is woman to win. This is the way that boys begin,— Wait till you come to Forty Year. 68 BALLADS Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, Billing and cooing is all your cheer; Sighing and singing of midnight strains, Under Bonnybell's window panes, — Wait till you come to Forty Year. Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, Grizzling hair the brain doth clear — Then you know a boy is an ass. Then you know the worth of a lass. Once you have come to Forty Year. Pledge me round, I bid ye declare. All good fellows whose beards are grey, Did not the fairest of the fair Common grow and wearisome ere Ever a month was pass'd away ? The reddest lips that ever have kissed. The brightest eyes that ever have shone, May pray and whisper, and we not list. Or look away, and never be missed, Ere yet ever a month is gone. Gillian's dead, God rest her bier. How I loved her twenty years syne ! Marian's married, but I sit here Alone and merry at Forty Year, Dipping my nose in the Gascon wine. SORROWS OF WERTHER Werther had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter ; Would you know how first he met her ? She was cutting bread and butter. Charlotte was a married lady, And a moral man was Werther, And, for all the wealth of Indies, Would do nothing for to hurt her. So he sighed and pined and ogled, And his passion boiled and bubbled, Till he blew his silly brains out. And no more was by it troubled. Charlotte, having seen his body Borne before her on a shutter, Like a well-conducted person. Went on cutting bread and butter. A DOE IN THE CITY Little Kitty Louimer, Fair, and young, and witty. What lias brought your ladyship Kambling to the City ? 69 70 BALLADS All the Stags in Capel Court Saw her lightly trip it ; All the lads of Stock Exchange Twigg'd her muff and tippet. With a sweet perplexity, And a mystery pretty, Threading througli Threadneedle Street, Trots the little Kitty. What was my astonishment — What was my compunction, When she reached the Offices Of the Didland Junction ! Up the Didland stairs she went. To the Didland door, Sir; Porters lost in wonderment, Let her pass before. Sir. " Madam," says the old chief Clerk, " Sure we can't admit ye." "Where's the Didland Junction deed.''" Dauntlessly says Kitty. " If you doubt my honesty, Look at my receipt. Sir." Up then jumps the old chief Clerk, Smiling as he meets her. Kitty at the table sits (Whither the old Clerk leads her), " I deliver this," she says, "As my act and deed. Sir." A DOE IN THE CITY When I heard these funny words Come from hps so prett}^ ; This, I thought, should surely be Subject for a ditty. What! are ladies stagging it? Sure, the more's the pity; But I've lost my heart to her, — Naughty little Kitty. 71 CRETHA THE LAST OF MAY (in reply to an invitation dated on the 1st) By fate's benevolent award, Should I survive the day, I'll drink a bumper with my lord Upon the last of May. That I may reach that happy time The kindly gods I pray. For are not ducks and pease in prime Upon the last of May ? At thirty boards, 'twixt now and then, My knife and fork shall play ; But better wine and better men I shall not meet in May. And though, good friend, with whom I dine, Your honest head is grey. And, like this grizzled head of mine, Has seen its last of May ; Yet, with a heart that's ever kind, A gentle spirit gay. You've spring perennial in your mind, And round you make a May ! 79 "AH, BLEAK AND BARREN WAS THE MOOR " Ah ! bleak and barren was the moor, Ah! loud and piercing was the storm, The cottage roof was shelter'd sure, The cottage hearth was bright and warm — An orphan-boy the lattice pass'd. And, as he mark'd its cheerful glow, Felt doubly keen the midnight blast. And doubly cold the fallen snow. They marked him as he onward pross'd. With fainting heart and weary limb; Kind voices bade him turn and rest. And gentle faces welcomed him. The dawn is up — the guest is gone. The cottage hearth is blazing still : Heaven pity all poor wanderers lone ! Hark to the wind upon the hill! 73 SONG OF THE VIOLET A humble flower long time I pined Upon the solitary plain, And trembled at the angry wind, And shrunk before the bitter rain. And oh! 'twas in a blessed hour A passing wanderer chanced to see. And, pitying the lonely flower. To stoop and gather me. I fear no more the tempest rude, On dreary heath no more I pine, But left my cheerless solitude, To deck the breast of Caroline. Alas our days are brief at best, Nor long I fear will mine endure, Though shelter'd here upon a breast So gentle and so pure. It draws the fragrance from my leaves, It robs me of my sweetest breath. And every time it falls and heaves, It warns me of my coming death. But one I know would glad forego All joys of life to be as I ; An hour to rest on that sweet breast, And then, contented, die. 74 FAIRY DAYS Beside the old hall-fire — upon my nurse's knee, Of happy fairy days — what tales were told to me! I thought the world was once — all peopled with princesses, And my heart would beat to hear — their loves and their dis- tresses ; And many a quiet night, — in slumber sweet and deep. The pretty fairy people — would visit me in sleep. I saw them in my dreams — come flying east and west. With wondrous fairy gifts — the new-born babe they bless'd; One has brought a jewel — and one a crown of gold, And one has brought a curse — but she is wrinkled and old. The gentle queen turns pale — to hear those words of sin, But the king he only laughs — and bids the dance begin. The babe has grown to be — the fairest of the land, And rides the forest green — a hawk upon her hand. An ambling palfrey white — a golden robe and crown: I've seen her in my dreams — riding up and down: And heard the ogre laugh — as she fell into his snare. At the little tender creature— who wept and tore her hair! But ever when it seemed — her need was at the sorest, A prince in shining mail — comes prancing through the forest, A waving ostrich-plume- a buckler burnished bright ; I've seen him in my dreams — good sooth! a gallant knight. His lips are coral red— beneath a dark moustache; See how he waves his hand — and how his blue eyes flash! 75 76 BALLADS " Come forth, thou Paynim knight! "—he shouts in accents clear. The giant and the maid— both tremble his voice to hear. Saint Mary guard him well!— he draws his falchion keen, The giant and the knight— are fighting on the green. I see them in my dreams— his blade gives stroke on stroke, The giant pants and reels— and tumbles like an oak! With what a blushing grace— he falls upon his knee And takes the lady's hand— and whispers, " You are free! " Ah ! happy childish tales— of knight and faerie! I waken from my dreams— but there's ne'er a knight for me ; I waken from my dreams — and wish that I could be A child by the old hall-fire— upon my nurse's knee! POCAHONTAS Wearied arm and broken sword Wage in vain the desperate fight : Round him press a countless horde, He is but a single knight. Hark ! a cry of triumph shrill Through the wilderness resounds, As, with twenty bleeding wounds, Sinks the warrior, fighting still. Now they heap the fatal pyre, And the torch of death they light : Ah ! 'tis hard to die of fire ! Who will shield the captive knight? Round the stake with fiendish cry Wheel and dance the savage crowd. Cold the victim's mien, and proud, And his breast is bared to die. Who will shield the fearless heart? Who avert the nmrdcrous blade? From the throng, witli sudden start, See there springs an Indian maid. Quick she stands before the knight, " Loose the chain, unbind the ring, I am daughter of the king, And I claim tiie Indian right! " 7T 78 BALLADS Dauntlessly aside she flings Lifted axe and thirsty knife; Fondly to his heart she dings, And her bosom guards his Hfe! In the woods of Powhattan, Still 'tis told by Indian fires, How a daughter of their sires Saved the captive Englishman. FROM POCAHONTAS Returning from the cruel fight How pale and faint appears my knight ! He sees me anxious at his side ; " Why seek, my love, your wounds to hide? Or deem your English girl afraid To emulate the Indian maid ? " Be mine my husband's grief to cheer, In peril to be ever near ; Whate'er of ill or woe betide. To bear it clinging at his side ; The poisoned stroke of fate to ward. His bosom with my own to guard : Ah! could it spare a pang to his. It could not know a purer bliss ! 'Twould gladden as it felt the smart, And thank the hand that flung the dart ! LOVE-SONGS MADE EASY WHAT MAKES MY HEART TO THRILL AND GLOW? THE MAYFAIR LOVE-SONG Winter and summer, night and morn, I languish at this table dark; My office window has a corn- er looks into St. James's Park. I hear the foot-guards' bugle-horn, Their tramp upon parade I mark ; I am a gentleman forlorn, I am a Foreign-Office Clerk. My toils, my pleasures, every one, I find are stale, and dull, and slow; And yesterday, when work was done, I felt myself so sad and low, I could have seized a sentry's gun My wearied brains out out to blow. What is it makes my blood to run? What makes my heart to beat and glow? My notes of hand are burnt, perhaps? Some one has paid my tailor's bill? No: every morn the tailor raps; My I O U's are extant still. 79 80 LOVE-SONGS MADE EASY I still am prey of debt and dun ; My elder brother's stout and well. What is it makes my blood to run ? What makes my heart to glow and swell? I know my chief's distrust and hate ; He says I'm lazy, and I shirk. Ah ! had I genius like the late Right Honourable Edmund Burke! My chance of all promotion's gone, I know it is, — he hates me so. What is it makes my blood to run, And all my heart to swell and glow? Why, why is all so bright and gay? There is no change, there is no cause ; My office-time I found to-day Disgusting as it ever was. At three, I went and tried the Clubs, And yaM^ned and saunter'd to and fro ; And now my heart jumps up and throbs. And all my soul is in a glow. At half-past four I had the cab ; I drove as hard as I could go. The London sky was dirty drab, And dirty brown the London snow. And as I rattled in a cant- er down by dear old Bolton Row, A something made my heart to pant. And caused my cheek to flush and glow. What could it be that made me find Old Jawkins pleasant at the Club? Why was it that I laughed and grinned At whist, although I lost the rub? WHAT MAKES MY HEART TO THRILL? 81 What M'as it. made me drink like mad Thirteen small glasses of Cura^o? That made my inmost heart so glad, And every fibre thrill and glow? She's home again ! she's home, she's home ! Away all cares and griefs and pain ; I knew she would— she's back from Rome; She's home again ! she's home again ! " The family's gone abroad," they said, September last— they told me so; Since then my lonely heart is dead, My blood I think's forgot to flow. She's home again ! away all care ! O fairest form the world can show ! O beaming eyes ! O golden hair ! O tender voice, that breathes so low ! O gentlest, softest, purest heart ! O joy, O hope !— " My tiger, ho ! " Fitz-Clarence said; we saw him start — He galloped down to Bolton Row. THE GHAZUL, OR ORIENTAL LOVE-SONG THE ROCKS I WAS a timid little antelope ; My home was in the rocks, the lonely rocks. I saw the hunters scouring on the plain ; I lived among the rocks, the lonely rocks. I was a-thirsty in the summer-heat ; I ventured to the tents beneath the rocks. Zuleikah brought me water from the well ; Since then I have been faithless to the rocks. I saw her face reflected in the well; Her camels since have marched into the rocks. I look to see her image in the well ; I only see my eyes, my own sad eyes. My mother is alone among the rocks. THE MERRY BARD ZuLEiKAH ! The young Agas in the bazaar are slim-waisted and wear yellow slippers. I am old and hideous. One of my eyes is out, and the hairs of my beard are mostly grey. Praise be to Allah ! I am a merry bard. There is a bird upon the terrace of the Emir's chief wife. Praise be to Allah ! He has emeralds on his neck, and a ruby tail. I am a merry bard. He deafens me with his diabolical scream- ing. There is a little brown bird in the basket-maker's cage. Praise be to Allah ! He ravishes my soul in the moonlight, I am a merry bard. The peacock is an Aga, but the little bird is a Bulbul. I am a little brown Bulbul. Come and listen in the moonlight. Praise be to Allah ! I am a merry bard. 83 THE CAIQUE Yonder to the kiosk, beside the creek, Paddle the swift caique. Thou brawny oarsman with the sun-burnt cheek, Quick ! for it soothes my heart to hear the Bulbul speak. Ferry me quickly to the Asian shores. Swift bending to your oars. Beneath the melancholy sycamores. Hark ! what a ravishing note the love-lorn Bulbul pours. Behold, the boughs seem quivering with delight, The stars themselves more bright, As mid the waving branches out of sight The Lover of the Rose sits singing through the night. Under the boughs I sat and listened still, I could not have my fill. " How comes," I said, " such music to his bill ? Tell me for whom he sings so beautiful a trill." " Once I was dumb," then did the Bird disclose, " But looked upon the Rose ; And in the garden where the loved one grows, I straightway did begin sweet music to compose." 84 THE CAIQUE 85 " O bird of song, there's one in this caique The Rose would also seek, So he might learn like jou to love and speak." Then answered me the bird of dusky beak, " The Rose, the Rose of Love blushes on Leilah's cheek." MY NORA Beneath the gold acacia buds My gentle Nora sits and broods, Far, far away in Boston woods My gentle Nora! I see the tear-drop in her e'e, Her bosom's heaving tenderly ; I know — I know she thinks of me, My darling Nora ! And where am I? My love, whilst thou Sitt'st sad beneath the acacia bough. Where pearl's on neck, and wreath on brow, I stand, my Nora! Mid carcanet and coronet, Where joy-lamps shine and flowers are set — Where England's chivalry are met. Behold me, Nora ! In this strange scene of revelry, Amidst this gorgeous chivalry, A form I saw was like to thee, My love — my Nora! She paused amidst her converse glad ; The lady saw that I was sad. She pitied the poor lonely lad, — Dost love her, Nora? In sooth, she is a lovely dame, A lip of red, and eye of flame. And clustering golden locks, the same As thine, dear Nora ! 86 MY NORA 87 Her glance Is softer than the dawn's, Her foot is Hghter than the fawn's, Her breast is whiter than the swan's. Or thine, my Nora! Oh, gentle breast to pity me ! Oh, lovely Ladye Emily ! Till death— till death I'll think of thee— Of thee and Nora! TO MARY I SEEM, in the midst of the crowd. The lightest of all ; My laughter rings cheery and loud, In banquet and ball. My lip hath its smiles and its sneers. For all men to see ; But my soul, and my truth, and my tears. Are for thee, are for thee ! Around me they flatter and fawn — The young and the old, The fairest are ready to pawn Their hearts for my gold. They sue me— I laugh as I spurn The slaves at my knee ; But in faith and in fondness I turn Unto thee, unto thee ! SERENADE Now the toils of day are over, And the sun hath sunk to rest, Seeking, hke a fiery lover. The bosom of the blushing west — The faithful night keeps watch and ward, Raising the moon her silver shield, And summoning the stars to guard The slumbers of my fair Mathilde! The faithful night ! Now all things lie Hid by her mantle dark and dim. In pious hope I hither hie. And humbly chaunt mine ev'ning hymn. Thou art my prayer, my saint, my shrine ! (For never holy pilgrim kneel'd. Or wept at feet more pure than thine). My virgin love, my sweet Mathilde! 88 THE MINARET BELLS TiNK-A-TiNK, tink-a-tink, By the light of the star, On the blue river's brink, I heard a guitar. -I heard a guitar, On the blue waters clear. And knew by its music, That Selim was near ! Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink. How the soft music swells. And I hear the soft clink Of the minaret bells ! 89 COME TO THE GREENWOOD TREE Come to the greenwood tree, Come where the dark woods be, Dearest, O come with me ! Let us rove— O my love— O my love! Come— 'tis the moonlight hour. Dew is on leaf and flower, Come to the linden bower, — Let us rove— O my love— O my love! Dark is the wood, and wide: Dangers, they say, betide ; But, at my Albert's side. Nought I fear, O my love— O my love! Welcome the greenwood tree. Welcome the forest free, Dearest, with thee, with thee. Nought I fear, O my love— my love! 90 FIVE GERMAN DITTIES A TRAGIC STORY BY ADELBERT VON CHAMISSO " 's war Einer, dem's zu Herzen gieng." There lived a sage in days of yore And he a handsome pigtail wore ; But wondered much and sorrowed more * Because it hung behind him. He mused upon this curious case, And swore he'd change the pigtail's place, And have it hanging at his face, Not dangling there behind him. Says he, " The mystery I've found, — I'll turn me round," — he turned him round; But still it hung behind him. Then round, and round, and out and in, All day the puzzled sage did spin ; In vain — it mattered not a })in, — The pigtail hung behind him. 91 92 FIVE GERMAN DITTIES And right, and left, and round about, And up, and down, and in, and out, He turned ; but still the pigtail stout Hung steadily behind him. And though his efforts never slack, And though he twist, and twirl, and tack, Alas ! still faithful to his back The pigtail hangs behind him. THE CHAPLET FROM UHLAND " Es pfliickte Bliiralein mannigfalt." A LITTLE girl through field and wood Went plucking flowerets here and there, When suddenly beside her stood A lady wondrous fair! The lovely lady smiled, and laid A wreath upon the maiden's brow; " Wear it, 'twill blossom soon," she said, " Although 'tis leafless now." The little maiden older grew And wandered forth of moonlight eves, And sighed and loved as maids will do ; When, lo ! her wreath bore leaves. Then was our maid a wife, and hung Upon a joyful bridegroom's bosom; When from the garland's leaves there sprung Fair store of blossom. THE KING ON THE TOWER 93 And presently a baby fair Upon her gentle breast she reared ; When midst the wreath that bound her hair Rich golden fruit appeared. But when her love lay cold in death, Sunk in the black and silent tomb, All sere and withered was the wreath That wont so bright to bloom. Yet still the withered wreath she wore ; She wore it at her dying hour ; When, lo! the wondrous garland bore Both leaf, and fruit, and flower! THE KING ON THE TOWER FROM UHLAND " Da liegen sie alle, die grauen Hbhen." The cold grey hills they bind me around. The darksome valleys lie sleeping below. But the winds as they pass o'er all this ground. Bring me never a sound of woe ! Oh ! for all I have suffered and striven. Care has embittered my cup and my feast ; But here is the night and the dark blue heaven. And my soul shall be at rest. O golden legends writ in the skies ! I turn towards you with longing soul. And list to the awful harmonies Of the Spheres as on they roll. 94 FIVE GERMAN DITTIES My hair is grey and my sight nigh gone ; My sword it rusteth upon the wall ; Right have I spoken, and right have I done: When shall I rest me once for all? O blessed rest ! O royal night ! Wherefore seemeth the time so long Till I see yon stars in their fullest light, And list to their loudest song? ON A VERY OLD WOMAN LA MOTTE FOUQUE " Und Du gingst einst, die Myrt' im Haare." And thou wer't once a maiden fair, A blushing virgin warm and young : With myrtles wreathed in golden hair, And glossy brow that knew no care — Upon a bridegroom's arm you hung. The golden locks are silvered now, The blushing cheek is pale and wan ; The spring may bloom, the autumn glow, All's one — in chimney corner thou Sitt'st shivering on. — A moment — and thou sink'st to rest! To wake perhaps an angel blest. In the bright presence of thy Lord. Oh, weary is life's path to all ! Hard is the strife, and light the fall, But wondrous the reward ! X A CREDO I For the sole edification Of this decent congregation, Goodly people, by your grant I will sing a holy chant— I will sing a holy chant. If the ditty sound but oddly, 'Twas a father, wise and godly, Sang it so long ago — Then sing as Martin Luther sang, As Doctor Martin Luther sang : " Who loves not wine, woman and song, He is a fool his whole life long! " II He, by custom patriarchal, Loved to see the beaker sparkle; And he thought the wine improved, Tasted by the lips he loved — By the kindly lips he loved. Friends, I wish this custom pious Duly were observed by us. To combine love, song, wine, And sing as Martin Luther sang, As Doctor Martin Luther sang : " Who loves not wine, woman and song, He is a fool his whole life long ! " 95 96 FIVE GERMAN DITTIES III it Who refuses this our Credo, And who will not sing as we do, Were he holy as John Knox, I'd pronounce him heterodox ! I'd pronunce him heterodox. And from out this congregation, With a solemn commination, Banish quick the heretic, Who will not sing as Luther sang, As Doctor Martin Luther sang: Who loves not wine, woman and song, He is a fool his whole life long ! " N FOUR IMITATIONS OF BERANGER LE ROI D'YVETOT II etalt un rol d'Yvetot, Peu connu dans I'histoire; Se levant tard, se couchant tot, Dormant fort bien sans gloire, Et couronne par Jeanneton D'un simple bonnet de coton, Dit-on. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! Quel bon petit roi c'etait la ! La, la. II fesait ses quatre repas Dans son palais de chaume, Et sur un ane, pas a pas, Parcourait son royaume. Joyeux, simple et croyant le bien, Pour toute garde il n'avait rien Qu'un chien. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! &c. 97 98 FOUR IMITATIONS OF BERANGER II n'avalt de gout onereux Qu'uiie soif un peu vive ; Mais, en rendant son peuple heureux, II faut bien qu'un roi vIve. Lui-meme a table, et sans suppot, Sur chaque muid levalt un pot D'impot. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! &c. Aux filles de bonnes maisons Conime il avait su plaire, Ses sujets avaient cent raisons De le nommer leur pere: D'ailleurs il ne levalt de ban Que pour tirer quatre fois I'an Au blanc. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! &c. II n'agrandit point ses etats, Fut un voisin commode, Et, modele des potentats, Frit le plaisir pour code. Ce n'est que lorsqu'il expira, Que le peuple qui I'enterra Fleura. Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! &c. On conserve encor le portrait De ce digne et bon prince ; C'est I'enseigne d'un cabaret Fameux dans la province. Les jours de fete, bien souvent. La foule s'ecrie en buvant Devant : Oh ! oh ! oh ! oh ! ah ! ah ! ah ! ah ! &c. THE KING OF YVETOT There was a king of Yvetot, Of whom renown hath little said, Who let all thoughts of glory go, And dawdled half his days a-bed ; And every night, as night came round, By Jenny, with a nightcap crowned. Slept very sound: Sing ho, ho, ho ! and he, he, he ! That's the kind of king for me. And every day It came to pass. That four lusty meals made he ; And, step by step, upon an ass. Rode abroad, his realms to see; And wherever he did stir. What think you was his escort, sir? Why, an old cur. Sing ho, ho, ho ! &c. If e'er he went into excess, 'Twas from a somewhat lively thirst; But he who would his subjects bless. Odd's fish!— must wet his whistle first; And so from every cask they got, Our king did to himself allot, At least a pot. Sing ho, ho ! &c. 99 ^ 100 FOUR IMITATIONS OF BERANGER To all the ladies of the land, A courteous king, and kind, was he ; The reason why you'll understand, They named him Pater Patriae. Each year he called his fighting men. And marched a league from home, and then Marched back again. Sing ho, ho ! &c. Neither by force nor false pretence. He sought to make his kingdom great. And made (O princes, learn from hence) — " Live and let live," his rule of state. 'Twas only when he came to die, That his people who stood by. Were known to cry. Sing ho, ho ! &c. The portrait of this best of kings Is extant still, upon a sign That on a village tavern swings, Famed in the country for good wine. The people in their Sunday trim. Filling their glasses to the brim. Look up to him. Singing ha, ha, ha ! and he, he, he ! That's the sort of king for me. THE KING OF BRENTFORD ANOTHER VERSION There was a king in Brentford, — of whom no legends tell, But who, without his glory, — could eat and sleep right well. His Polly's cotton nightcap, — it was his crown of state, He slept of evenings early, — and rose of mornings late. All in a fine mud palace, — each day he took four meals, And for a guard of honour, — a dog ran at his heels, Sometimes, to view his kingdoms,— rode forth this monarch good, And then a prancing jackass— he royally bestrode. There were no costly habits — with which this king was curst. Except (and where's the harm on't?)— a somewhat lively thirst; But people must pay taxes,— and kings must have their sport. So out of every gallon — His Grace he took a quart. He pleased the ladies round him,— with manners soft and bland; With reason good, they named him,— the father of his land. Each year his mighty armies— marched forth in gallant show; • Their enemies were targets,— their bullets they were tow. He vexed no quiet neighbour,— no useless conquest made. But by the laws of pleasure,— his peaceful realm he swayed. And in the years he reigned,- through all this country wide. There was no cause for weeping,— save wlien the good man died. The faithful men of Brentford,— do still tlu-ir king deplore. His portrait yet is swinging,— beside an aleiiouse door. And topers, tender-hearted,— regard his honest ])hi'/, And envy times departed, — that knew a reign like his. 101 LE GRENIER Je viens revolr I'asile ou ma jeunesse De la misere a subi les le9ons. J'avais vingt ans, une folle maitresse, De francs amis et I'amour des chansons. Bravant le monde et les sots et les sages, Sans avenir, riche de mon printemps, Leste et joyeux je montais six etages, Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! C'est un grenier, point ne veux qu'on I'ignore. La f ut mon lit, bien chetif et bien dur ; La f ut ma table ; et j e retrouve encore Trois pieds d'un vers charbonnes sur le mur, Apparaissez, plaisirs de mon bel age. Que d'un coup d'aile a fustiges le temps, Vingt fois pour vous j'ai mis ma montre en gage. Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! Lisette ici doit surtout apparaitre, Vive, jolie, avec un frais chapeau ; Deja sa main a I'etroite fenetre Suspend son sclial, en guise de rideau. Sa robe aussi va parer ma couchette ; Respecte, Amour, ses plis longs et flottans. J'ai su depuis qui payait sa toilette Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans! A table un jour, jour de grande richesse, De mes amis les voix brillaient en choeur, Quand jusqu'ici monte un cri d'allegresse : A Marengo Bonaparte est vain queur. 102 THE GARRET 103 Le canon gronde ; un autre chant commence ; Nous celebrons tant de faits eclatans. Les rois jamais n'envahiront la France. Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans! Quittons ce toit ou ma raison s'enivre. Oh! qu'ils sont loin ces jours si regrettes! J'echangerais ce qu'il me reste a vivre Centre un des mois qu'ici Dicu m'a comptes, Pour rever gloire, amour, plaisir, folie, Pour depenser sa vie en peu d'instans, D'un long espoir pour la voir embellie, Dans un grenier qu'on est bien a vingt ans ! THE GARRET With pensive eyes the little room I view, Where, in my youth, I weathered it so long ; With a wild mistress, a stanch friend or two, And a light heart still breaking into song: Making a mock of life, and all its cares, Rich in the glory of my rising sun. Lightly I vaulted up four pair of stairs, In the brave days when I was twenty-one. Yes; 'tis a garret — let him know't who will — There was my bed — full hard it was and small; My table there — and I decipher still Half a lame couplet charcoaled on the wall. Ye joys, that Time hath swej)t with him away, Come to mine eyes, ye dreams of love and fun ; For you I pawned my watch how many a day, In the brave days when I was twenty-one. 104 FOUR IMITATIONS OF BERANGER And see my little Jessy, first of all ; She comes with pouting lips and sparkling eyes : Behold, how roguishly she pins her shawl Across the narrow casement, curtain-wise ; Now by the bed her petticoat glides down, And when did woman look the worse in none? I have heard since who paid for many a gown, In the brave days when I was twenty-one. One jolly evening, when my friends and I Made happy music with our songs and cheers, A shout of triumph mounted up thus high, And distant cannon opened on our ears : We rise, — we join in the triumphant strain, — Napoleon conquers — Austerlitz is won — Tyrants shall never tread us down again. In the brave days when I was twenty-one. Let us begone — the place is sad and strange — How far, far off, these happy times appear; All that I have to live I'd gladly change For one such month as I have wasted here — To draw long dreams of beauty, love, and power, From founts of hope that never will outrun, And drink all life's quintessence in an hour. Give me the days when I was twenty-one ! ROGER-BONTEMPS Aux gens atrabilaires Pour exemple donne, En un temps de miseres Roger-Bontemps est ne. Vivre obscur a sa guise, Narguer les mecontens ; Eh gai ! c'est la devise Du gros Roger-Bontemps. Du chapeau de son pere CoifFe dans les grands jours, De roses ou de lierre Le rajeunir tou jours; Mettre un manteau de bure, Vieil ami de vingt ans ; Eh gai ! c'est la parure Du gros Roger-Bontemps, Posscder dans sa hutte Une table, un vieux lit, Des cartes, une flute, Un broc que Dieu remplit ; Un portrait de maitresse, Un coff re et ricn dedans ; Eh gai ! c'est la richessc Du gros Roger-Bontemps. 105 106 FOUR IMITATIONS OF BERANGER Aux enfans de la ville Montrer de petits jeux; Etre fesseur habile De contes graveleux ; Ne parler que de danse Et d'almanachs chantans : Eh gai ! c'est la science Du gros Roger-Bontemps. Faute de vins d'elite, Sabler ceux du canton : Preferer Marguerite Aux dames du grand ton: De joie et de tendresse Remplir tous ses instans: Eh gai ! c'est la sagesse Du gros Roger-Bontemps. Dire au ciel : Je me fie, Mon pere, a ta bonte ; De ma philosopliie Pardonne le gaite: Que ma saison derniere Soit encore un printemps ; Eh gai! c'est la priere Du gros Roger-Bontemps. Vous pauvres pleins d'envie, Vous riches desireux, Vous, dont le char devie Apres uncours heureux; "^ Vous, qui perdrez peut-etre Des titres eclatans, Eh gai ! prenez pour maitre Le gros Roger-Bontemps. JOLLY JACK When fierce political debate Throughout the isle was storming, And Rads attacked the throne and state, And Tories the reforming. To calm the furious rage of each, And right the land demented, Heaven sent us Jolly Jack, to teach The way to be contented. Jack's bed was straw, 'twas warm and soft, His chair, a three-legged stool ; His broken jug was emptied oft, Yet, somehow, always full. His mistress' portrait decked the wall. His mirror had a crack ; Yet, gay and glad, though this was all His wealth, lived Jolly Jack. To give advice to avarice, Teach pride its mean condition. And preach good sense to dull pretence, Was honest Jack's high mission. Our simple statesman found his rule Of moral in the flagon. And held his philosophic school Beneath the " George and Dragon." 107 108 FOUR IMITATIONS OF BERANGER When village Solons cursed the Lords, And called the malt-tax sinful, Jack heeded not their angry words. But smiled and drank his skinful. And Avhen men wasted health and life. In search of rank and riches, Jack marked aloof the paltry strife. And wore his threadbare breeches. " I enter not the church," he said, " But I'll not seek to rob it ; " So worthy Jack Joe Miller read, While others studied Cobbett. His talk it was of feast and fun ; His guide the Almanack ; From youth to age thus gaily run The life of Jolly Jack. And when Jack prayed, as oft he would. He humbly thanked his Maker; " I am," said he, " O Father good ! Nor Catholic nor Quaker : Give each his creed, let each proclaim His catalogue of curses ; I trust in Thee, and not in them. In Thee, and in Thy mercies ! " Forgive me if, midst all Thy works, No hint I see of damning; And think there's faith among the Turks, And hope for e'en the Brahmin. Harmless my mind is, and my mirth. And kindly is my laughter ; I cannot see the smiling earth. And think there's hell hereafter." JOLLY JACK 109 Jack died ; he left no legacy, Save that his stoiy teaches: — Content to peevish poverty ; Humility to riches. Ye scornful great, ye envious small, Come follow in his track ; We all were happier, if we all Would copy Jolly Jack. IMITATION OF HORACE TO HIS SERVING BOY Persicos odi, Puer, apparatus; Displicent nexas Philyra coronae : Mitte sectarl, Rosa quo locorum Sera moretur. Simplici myrto Nihil allabores Sedulus, euro: Neque te ministrum Dedecet myrtus, Neque me sub arcta Vite bibentem. 110 AD MINISTRAM Dear Lucy, you know what my wish is,— I hate all your Frenchified fuss: Your silly entrees and made dishes Were never intended for us. No footman in lace and in ruffles Need dangle behind my arm-chair; And never mind seeking for truffles, Although they be ever so rare. But a plain leg of mutton, my Lucy, I prithee get ready at three : Have it smoking, and tender and juicy. And what better meat can there be? And when it has feasted the master, 'Twill amply suffice for the maid ; Meanwhile I will smoke my canaster, And tipple my ale in the shade. Ill B OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES THE KNIGHTLY GUERDON' Untrue to my Ulric I never could be, I vow by the saints and the blessed Marie, Since the desolate hour when we stood by the shore, And your dark galley waited to carry you o'er : My faith then I plighted, my love I confess'd, As I gave you the Battle-Axe marked with your crest ! i"WAPPING OLD STAIRS " Your Molly has never been false, she declares, Since the last time we parted at Wapping Old Stairs; When I said that I would continue the same. And gave you the 'bacco-box marked with my name. When I passed a whole fortnight between decks with you, Did I e'er give a kiss, Tom, to one of your crew? To be useful and kind to my Thomas I stay'd. For his trousers I washed, and his grog too I made. " Though you promised last Sunday to walk in the Mall With Susan from Deptford and likewise with Sail, In silence I stood your unkindness to hear. And only upbraided my Tom with a tear. Why should Sail, or should Susan, than me be more prized? For the heart that is true Tom, should ne'er be despised; Then be constant and kind, nor your Molly forsake. Still your trousers I'll wash and your grog too I'll make." 112 THE KNIGHTLY GUERDON 113 When the bold barons met in my father's old hall, Was not Edith the flower of the banquet and ball ? In the festival hour, on the lips of your bride. Was there ever a smile save with Thee at my side? Alone in my turret I loved to sit best, To blazon your Banner and broider your crest. The knights were assembled, the tourney was gay ! Sir Ulric rode first in the warrior-melee. In the dire battle-hour, when the tourney was done. And you gave to another the wreath you had won ! Though I never reproached thee, cold, cold was my breast. As I thought of that Battle-axe, ah ! and that crest ! But away with remembrance, no more will I pine That others usurped for a time what was mine ! There's a Festival Hour for my Ulric and me: Once more, as of old, shall he bend at my knee ; Once more by the side of the knight I love best Shall I blazon his Banner and broider his crest. THE ALMACK'S ADIEU Your Fanny was never false-hearted. And this she protests and she vows, From the triste movient when we parted On the staircase of Devonshire House ! I blushed when you asked me to marry, I vowed I would never forget; And at parting I gave my dear Harry A beautiful vinegarettc! 114 OLD FRIENDS WITH NEW FACES We spent en province all December, And I ne'er condescended to look At Sir Charles, or the rich county member, Or even at that darling old Duke. You were busy with dogs and with horses. Alone in my chamber I sat. And made you the nicest of purses. And the smartest black satin cravat ! At night with that vile Lady Frances {Je faisois moi tapisserie) You danced every one of the dances, And never once thought of poor me ! Mon pauvre petit coeur! what a shiver I felt as she danced the last set ; And you gave, O mon Dieu ! to revive her My beautiful vinegarette! Return, love ! away with coquetting ; This flirting disgraces a man ! And ah ! all the while you're forgetting The heart of your poor little Fan ! Reviens! break away from those Circes, Reviens, for a nice little chat; And I've made you the sweetest of purses, And a lovely black satin cravat ! WHEN THE GLOOM IS ON THE GLEN When the moonlight's on the mountain And the gloom is on the glen, At the cross beside the fountain There is one will meet thee then. At the cross beside the fountain ; Yes, the cross beside the fountain. There is one will meet thee then ! I have braved, since first we met, love. Many a danger in my course; But I never can forget, love, That dear fountain, that old cross, Where, her mantle shrouded o'er her — For the winds were chilly then — First I met my Leonora, When the gloom was on the glen. Many a clime I've ranged since then, love, Many a land I've wandered o'er ; But a valley like that glen, love, Half so dear I never sor ! Ne'er saw maiden fairer, coyer. Than wert thou, my true love, when In the gloaming first I saw yer, In the gloairn'ng of the glen! 115 THE RED FLAG Where the quivering lightning flings His arrows from out the clouds, And the howling tempest sings And whistles among the shrouds, 'Tis pleasant, 'tis pleasant to ride Along the foaming brine — Wilt be the Rover's bride ? Wilt follow him, lady mine? Hurrah ! For the bonny, bonny brine. Amidst the storm and rack. You shall see our galley pass, As a serpent, lithe and black. Glides through the waving grass. As the vulture swift and dark, Down on the ring-dove flies. You shall see the Rover's bark Swoop down upon his prize. Hurrah ! For the bonny, bonny prize. Over her sides we dash. We gallop across her deck — Ha ! there's a ghastly gash On the merchant-captain's neck — Well shot, well shot, old Ned ! Well struck, well struck, black James! Our arms are red, and our foes are dead. And we leave a ship in flames ! Hurrah ! For the bonny, bonny flames. 116 DEAR JACK Dear Jack, this white mug that with Guinness I fill, And drink to the health of sweet Nan of the Hill, Was once Tommy Tosspot's, as jovial a sot As e'er drew a spigot, or drain'd a full pot — In drinking all round 'twas his joy to surpass. And with all merry tipplers he swigg'd off his glass. One morning in summer, while seated so snug. In the porch of his garden, discussing his jug, Stern Death, on a sudden, to Tom did appear. And said, " Honest Thomas, come take your last bier." We kneaded his clay in the shape of this can, From which let us drink to the health of my Nan. 117 I COMMANDERS OF THE FAITHFUL The Pope he is a happy man, His Palace is the Vatican, And there he sits and drains his can: The Pope he is a happy man. I often say when I'm at home, I'd hke to be the Pope of Rome. And then there's Sultan Saladin, That Turkish Soldan full of sin; He has a hundred wives at least, By which his pleasure is increased: I've often wished, I hope no sin. That I were Sultan Saladin. But no, the Pope no wife may choose, And so I would not wear his shoes ; No wine may drink the proud Paynim, And so I'd rather not be him : My wife, my wine, I love, I hope. And would be neither Turk nor Pope. 118 WHEN MOONLIKE ORE 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 England's 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 Star, That still above me beams; It is the Star of Hope— but ar! Dost thou remember Jeames? 119 THE LEGEND OF ST. SOPHIA OF KIOFF AN EPIC POEM, IN TWENTY BOOKS The Poet describes the city and spell- ing ot Kiow, Kioff, or Kiova. A THOUSAND years ago, or more, A city filled with burghers stout, And girt with ramparts round about, Stood on the rocky Dnieper shore. In armour bright, by day and night, The sentries they paced to and fro. Well guarded and walled was this town, and called By different names, I'd have you to know ; For if you looks in the g'ography books, In those dictionaries the name it varies, And they write it off Kieff or Kioff, Kiova or Kiow. Its buildings, public works, and ordinances, religious and civil. Thus guarded without by wall and redoubt, Kiova within was a place of renown. With more advantages than in those dark ages Were commonly known to belong to a town. There were places and squares, and each year four fairs, And regular aldermen and regular lord mayors ; And streets, and alleys, and a bishop's palace ; 120 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 121 And a church with clocks for the orthodox — With clocks and with spires, as religion desires ; And beadles to whip the bad little boys Over their poor little corduroys, In service-time, when they didn't make a noise; And a chapter and dean, and a cathedral-green With ancient trees, underneath whose shades Wandered nice j'oung nursery-maids. Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-ding-a-ring-ding, The bells they made a merry merry ring. From the tall tall steeple; and all the people (Except the Jews) came and filled the pews — Poles, Russians and Germans, To hear the sermons Which Hyacinth preached to those Germans and Poles, For the safety of their souls. The poet shows how a certain priest dwelt at KiofT, a godly clergyman, and one that preached rare good sermons. Ill A worthy priest he was and a stout — You've seldom looked on such a one ; For, though he fasted thrice in a )\'eek, Yet nevertheless his skin was sleek ; His waist it spanned two yards about And he weighed a score of stone. How this priest was short and fat of body; IV A worthy priest for fasting and prayer And mortification most deserving; And as for preaching beyond compare. He'd exert his powers for three or four hours, With greater pith than Sydney Smith Or the Reverend Edward Irving. And like unto the author of *' Plymley's Letters." 122 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC V Of what con- He was the prior of Saint Sophia prior, and when (A Cockney rhyme, but no better I know) — was'buiu." Of St. Sophia, that Church in Kiow, Built by missionaries I can't tell when ; Who by their discussions converted the Russians, And made them Christian men. VI Of Saint Sophia of Kioff;and how her statue miraculously travelled thither. Sainted Sophia (so the legend vows) With special favour did regard this house; And to uphold her converts' new devotion Her statue (needing but her legs for her ship) Walks of itself across the German Ocean ; And of a sudden perches In this the best of churches, Whither all Kiovites come and pay it grateful wor- ship. I vn And how Kioff Thus with her patron-saints and pious preachers should have -_ i i i • , i been a happy Recorded here m catalogue precise, city; but that ^ goodly city. Worthy magistrates, You would have thought in all the Russian states The citizens the happiest of all creatures, — The town itself a perfect Paradise. VIII Certain wicked Cossacks did besiege it. No, alas ! this well-built city Was in a perpetual fidget; For the Tartars, without pity, Did remorselessly besiege it. i THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 123 Tartars fierce, with sword and sabres, Huns and TurlvS, and such as these. Envied much their peaceful neighbours By the blue Borysthenes. Down they came, these ruthless Russians, From their steppes, and woods, and fens, For to levy contributions On the peaceful citizens. Murdering the citizens. Winter, Summer, Spring, and Autumn, Down they came to peaceful Kioff, Killed the burghers when they caught 'em, If their lives they would not buy off. Till the city, quite confounded By the ravages they made. Humbly with their chief compounded And a yearly tribute paid. Until they agreed to pay a tribute yearly. Which (because their courage lax was) They discharged while they were able Tolerated thus the tax was, Till it grew intolerable, How they paid the tribute, and then suddenly refused it. And the Calmuc envoy sent. As before to take their dues all, Got, to his astonishment, A unanimous refusal ! To the wonder of the Cossack envoy. " Men of Kioff ! " thus courageous Did the stout lord-mayor harangue them, " Wherefore pay these sneaking wages To the hectoring Russians? hang them! Ofa mighty gal- lant speech 124 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC That the lord- mayor made, (( (( ( Hark ! I hear the awful cry of Our forefathers in their graves; Fight, ye citizens of KiofF! KiofF was not made for slaves.' Exhorting the burphers to pay no longer. " All too long have ye betrayed her ; Rouse, ye men and aldermen, Send the insolent invader — Send him starving back again." DC Of their thanks He spoke and he sat down ; the people of the town, and heroic /i i • i i i i • resolves. Who Were nred with a brave emulation. Now rose with one accord, and voted thanks unto the lord- Mayor for his oration : Theydismissthe The euvoy they dismissed, never placing in his fist envoy.andset • i i •^^' about drilling. »o much as a Single shilling; And all with courage fired, as his lordship he desired. At once set about their drilling. Of the City Then every city ward established a guard, militia, Diumal and nocturnal: bomta"diers. Militia volunteers, light dragoons, and bombardiers, maliieri'"''"" With an alderman for colonel. There was muster and roll-calls, and repairing city walls. And filling up of fosses : ^nd'^clSn" And the captains and the majors, so gallant and courageous, A-riding about on their bosses. THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 125 To be guarded at all hours they built themselves The fortifica- tions and watch-towers, artillery. With every tower a man on ; And surely and secure, each from out his embrasure, Looked down the iron cannon ! A battle-song was writ for the theatre, where it Was sung with vast energy And rapturous applause : and besides, the public Of the conduct ^ r-r- ' ' r- of the actors cause, and the clergy. Was supported by the clergy. The pretty ladies'-maids were pinning of cockades. And tying on of sashes ; And dropping gentle tears, while their lovers blus- ter'd fierce. About gun-shot and gashes ; The ladies took the hint, and all day were scraping Of the ladies; lint. As became their softer genders; And got bandages and beds for the limbs and for the heads Of the city's brave defenders. The men, both young and old, felt resolute and bold, And panted hot for glory; Even the tailors 'ean to brag, and embroidered on And. finally, of ^ '^ the taylors. their flag. " AUT WINCERE AUT MORI." Seeine the city's resolute condition. Of the Cossack o ^ ^ ^ chief,— his The Cossack chief, too cunning to despise it, straUgem; Said to himself, " Not having ammunition 126 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC Wherewith to batter the place in proper form, Some of these nights I'll carry it by storm, And sudden escalade it or surprise it. And the bur- ghers' sillie victorie. a Let's see, however, if the cits stand firmish." He rode up to the city gates ; for answers. Out rushed an eager troop of the town elite. And straightway did begin a gallant skirmish : The Cossack hereupon did sound retreat. Leaving the victory with the city lancers. "What prison- ers they took, They took two prisoners and as many horses, And the whole town grew quickly so elate With this small victory of their virgin forces. That they did deem their privates and commanders So many Caesars, Pompeys, Alexanders, Napoleons, or Fredericks the Great. And how con- ceited they were. And puffing with inordinate conceit They utterly despised these Cossack thieves ; And thought the ruffians easier to beat Than porters carpets think, or ushers boys. Meanwhile, a sly spectator of their joys, The Cossack captain giggled in his sleeves. Of the Cos- " sack chief, — his orders; ?j Whene'er you meet yon stupid city hogs (He bade his troops precise this order keep), " Don't stand a moment— run away, you dogs ! " 'Twas done ; and when they met the town battalions The Cossacks, as if frightened at their valiance, Turned tail, and bolted like so many sheep. And how he feigned a retreat. They fled, obedient to their captain's order : And now this bloodless siege a month had lasted. When, viewing the country round, the city warder THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 127 Who, like a faithful weathercock, did perch Upon the steeple of St. Sophy's church), Sudden his trumpet took, and a mighty blast he blasted. His voice it mie;ht be heard through all the streets "^^^^ warder pro- *=" ^ clayms the Cos- (He was a warder wondrous strong: in lung;), sacks' retreat. \ . to &/' andthecitie " Victory, victory ! the foe retreats ! " greatly rejoyces. " The foe retreats ! " each cries to each he meets ; " The foe retreats ! " each in his turn repeats. Gods! how the guns did roar, and how the joy-bells rung! Arming in haste his gallant city lances, The mayor, to learn if true the news might be, A league or two out issued with his prances. The Cossacks (something had given their courage a damper) Hastened their flight, and 'gan like mad to scamper: Blessed be all the saints, Kiova town was free I XI Now, puffed with pride, the mayor grew vain, Fought all his battles o'er again ; And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew the slain. 'Tis true he might amuse himself thus, And not be very murderous ; For as of those who to death were done The number was exactly none. His lordship, in his soul's elation, Did take a bloodless recreation — Going home again, he did ordain The manner of the citie's re- A very splendid cold collation joycings, For the magistrates and the corporation ; 128 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC Likewise a grand illumination, For the amusement of the nation. That night the theatres were free, The conduits they ran Malvoisie; Each house that night did beam with light And sound with mirth and jollity: And its impiety. But shame, O shame! not a soul in the town, Now the city was safe and the Cossacks flown. Ever thought of the bountiful saint by whose care The town had been rid of these terrible Turks — Said even a prayer to that patroness fair. For these her wondrous works ! How the priest. Lord Hyacinth waited, the meekest of priors — waited at He Waited at church with the rest of his friars ; body came He Went there at noon and he waited till ten, thither. Expecting in vain the lord-mayor and his men. He waited and waited from mid-day to dark ; But in vain — you might search through the whole of the church. Not a layman, alas ! to the city's disgrace. From mid-day to dark showed his nose in the place. The pew-woman, organist, beadle, and clerk. Kept away from their work, and were dancing like mad Away in the streets with the other mad people, Not thinking to pray, but to guzzle and tipple Wherever the drink might be had. xn How he went Amidst this din and revelry throughout the city forth to bid . ./ o j them to prayer roarmg, The silver moon rose silently, and high in heaven soaring ; Prior Hyacinth was fervently upon his knees ador- ing: THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 129 " Towards my precious patroness this conduct sure unfair is ; I cannot think, I must confess, what keeps the dig- nitaries And our good mayor away, unless some business them contraries." He puts his long white mantle on and forth the prior sallies — (His pious thoughts were bent upon good deeds and not on malice ) : Heavens ! how the banquet lights they shone about the mayor's palace ! About the hall the scullions ran with meats both How uie grooms - , and lackeys fresh and potted ; jeered him. The pages came with cup and can, all for the guests allotted ; Ah, how they jeered that good fat man as up the stairs he trotted ! He entered in the ante-rooms where sat the mayor's court in ; He found a pack of drunken grooms a-dicing and a-sporting; The horrid wine and 'bacco fumes, they set the prior a-snorting ! The prior thought he'd speak about their sins be- fore he went hence, And lustily began to shout of sin and of repentance ; The rogues, they kicked the prior out before he'd done a sentence! And having got no portion small of buffeting and tussling, At last he reached the banquet-hall, where sat the mayor a-guzzling, 130 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC And by his side his lady tall dressed out in white sprig muslin. And the mayor. Around the table in a ring the guests were drink- mayoress, and . , aldermen.being mg heavy; lo gif'tochurc'l. They'd drunk the church, and drunk the king, and the army and the navy ; In fact they'd toasted everything. The prior said, " God save ye ! " The mayor cried, " Bring a silver cup — there's one upon the beaufet ; And, prior, have the venison up — it's capital re- chauffe. And so. Sir Priest, you've come to sup.'' And pray you, how's Saint Sophy ? " The prior's face quite red was grown, with horror and with anger; He flung the proffered goblet down — it made a hideous clangour; And 'gan a-preaching with a frown — he was a fierce haranguer. j He tried the mayor and aldermen — they all set up a-jeering: He tried the common-councilmen — they too began a-sneering : He turned towards the may'ress then, and hoped to get a hearing. He knelt and seized her dinner-dress, made of the muslin snowy, " To church, to church, my sweet mistress ! " he cried ; " the way I'll show ye." Alas, the lady-mayoress fell back as drunk as Chloe ! .{ THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 131 XIII Out from this dissolute and drunken court How the prior went back Went the good prior, his eyes with weeping dim: alone, He tried the people of a meaner sort — They too, alas, were bent upon their sport, And not a single soul would follow him ! But all were swigging schnaps and guzzling beer. He found the cits, their daughters, sons, and spouses, Spending the live-long night in fierce carouses: Alas, unthinking of the danger near ! One or two sentinels the ramparts guarded. The rest were sharing in the general feast : " God wot, our tipsy town is poorly warded; Sweet Saint Sophia help us ! " cried the priest. Alone he entered the cathedral gate. Careful he locked the mighty oaken door; Within his company of monks did wait, A dozen poor old pious men — no more. Oh, but it grieved the gentle prior sore, To think of those lost souls, given up to drink and fate ! The miffhtv outer gate well barred and fast, Anci simt him- <^ ' " _ self into Saint The poor old friars stirred their poor old bones, Sophia's chapel • r>i 11 ijj. with his And pattering swiftly on the damp cold stones, brethren. They through the solitary chancel passed. The chancel walls looked black and dim and vast. And rendered, ghost-like, melancholy tones. Onward the fathers sped, till coming nigh a Small iron gate, the which they entered quick at. They locked and double-locked the inner wicket And stood within the chapel of Sophia. 132 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC Vain were it to describe this sainted place, Vain to describe that celebrated trophy, The venerable statue of Saint Sophy, Which formed its chiefest ornament and grace. Here the good prior, his personal griefs and sorrows In his extreme devotion quickly merging, At once began to pray with voice sonorous ; The other friars joined in pious chorus, U And passed the night in singing, praying, scourg- In honour of Sophia, that sweet virgin. XIV The episode of Leaving thus the pious priest in Sneezoffand tt i i Katinka. Humblc penitence and prayer, And the greedy cits a-feasting. Let us to the walls repair. Walking by the sentry-boxes, Underneath the silver moon, Lo! the sentry boldly cocks his — Boldly cocks his musketoon. SneezofF was his designation, Fair-haired boy, for ever pitied; For to take his cruel station. He but now Katinka quitted. Poor in purse were both, but rich in Tender love's delicious plenties; She a damsel of the kitchen. He a haberdasher's 'prentice. a THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 133 'Tinka, maiden tender-hearted, Was dissolved in tearful fits, On that fatal night she parted From her darling, fair-haired Fritz. Warm her soldier lad she wrapt in Comforter and mufFettee ; Called him " general " and " captain," Though a simple private he. On your bosom wear this plaster, 'Twill defend you from the cold; In your pipe smoke this canaster, Smuggled 'tis, my love, and old. All the night, my love, I'll miss you." Thus she spoke ; and from the door Fair-haired Sneezoff made his issue, To return, alas, no more. He it is who calmly walks his Walk beneath the silver moen ; He it is who boldly cocks his Detonating musketoon. He the bland canaster puffing. As upon his round he paces, Sudden sees a ragamuffin Clambering swiftly up the glacis. a " Who goes there? " exclaims the sentry; " When the sun has once gone down No one ever makes an entry Into this here fortified town ! " 134 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC Howtliescntrie Sncczott" was surprised and slayn. Shouted thus the watchful Sneezoff ; But, ei-e any one replied, Wretched youth ! he fired his piece off. Started, staggered, groaned, and died ! How tlie Cos- sacks rushed in suddenly and took the citie. Of the Cossack troops. And of their manner of burning, mur- derinff, and ravishing. How they burned the whole citie down, save the church, XV Ah, full well might the sentinel cry, "Who goes there?" But echo was frightened too much to declare. Who goes there? who goes there? Can any one swear To the number of sands sur les bords de la mer. Or the whiskers of D'0rsa3' Count down to a hair? As well might you tell of the sands the amount, Or number each hair in each curl of the Count, As ever proclaim the number and name Of the hundreds and thousands that up the wall came ! Down, down the knaves poured with fire and with sword j There were thieves from the Danube and rogues from the Don ; There were Turks and Wallacks, and shouting Cossacks ; Of all nations and regions, and tongues and religions — Jew, Christian, Idolater, Frank, Mussulman : Ah, a horrible sight was Kioff that night ! The gates were all taken — no chance e'en of flight; And with torch and with axe the bloody Cossacks Went hither and thither a-hunting in packs : They slashed and they slew both Christian and Jew — Women and children, they slaughtered them too. Some, saving their throats, plunged into the moats, Or the river — but oh, they had burned all the boats ! ****** But here let us pause — for I can't pursue further This scene of rack, ravishment, ruin, and murther. Too well did the cunning old Cossack succeed ! His plan of attack was successful indeed ! THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 135 bells began to ring. The night was his own — the town it was gone; 'Twas a heap still a-burning of timber and stone. One building alone had escaped from the fires, Saint Sophy's fair church, with its steeples and spires, whereof the Calm, stately, and white, It stood in the light ; And as if 'twould defy all the conqueror's power,— As if nought had occurred, Might clearly be heard The chimes ringing soberly every half-hour ! XVI The city was defunct — silence succeeded Unto its last fierce agonising yells ; And then it was the conqueror first heeded The sound of these calm bells. Furious towards his aides-de-camp he turns, And (speaking as if Byron's works he knew) " Villains ! " he fiercely cries, " the city burns. Why not the temple too .'* Burn me yon church, and murder all within! " The Cossacks thundered at the outer door ; And Father Hyacinth, who heard the din, (And thought himself and brethren in distress. Deserted by their lady patroness) Did to her statue turn, and thus his woes outpour. How the Cos- sack chief bade them burn the church too. How they stormed it ; and of Hyacinth, his anger thereat. xvn " And is it thus, O falsest of the saints. Thou hearcst our complaints.? Tell me, did ever my attachment falter To serve thy altar.'' Was not thy name, ere ever I did sleep, The last upon my li]).'' His prayer to the Saint Sophia. 136 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC Was not thy name the very first that broke From me when I awoke? Have I not tried with fasting, flogging, penance, And mortified countenance For to find favour, Sophy, in thy sight? And lo ! this night, Forgetful of my prayers, and thine own promise, Thou turnest from us ; Lettest the heathen enter in our city, And, without pity. Murder our burghers, seize upon their spouses, Bum down their houses ! Is such a breach of faith to be endured? See what a lurid Light from the insolent invader's torches Shines on your porches ! E'en now, with thundering battering-ram and hammer And hideous clamour; With axemen, swordsmen, pikemen, billmen, bowmen. The conquering foemen, O Sophy ! beat j-our gate about your ears, Alas ! and here's A humble company of pious men, Like muttons in a pen, Whose souls shall quickW from their bodies be thrusted. Because in you they trusted. Do you not know the Calmuc chief's desires — Kill all the friars ! And you, of all the saints most false and fickle. Leave us in this abominable pickle." The statue sud- " RaSH HyaCINTHUS ! " denlie speaks; (Here, to the astonishment of all her backers, Saint Sophy, opening wide her wooden jaws. Like to a pair of German walnut-crackers, THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 137 Began), " I did not think j^ou had been thus,— monk of little faith ! Is it because A rascal scum of filthy Cossack heathen Besiege our town, that you distrust in me, then? Think'st thou that I, who in a former day Did walk across the Sea of Marmora (Not mentioning, for shortness, other seas), — That I, who skimmed the broad Borysthenes, Without so much as wetting of my toes. Am frightened at a set of men like those? 1 have a mind to leave you to your fate : Such cowardice as this my scorn inspires." Saint Sophy was here ^"Vl'.*^!; ■■^ " rupted by the Cut short in her words, — breaking in of For at this very moment in tumbled the gate. And with a ^\ild cheer, And a clashing of swords. Swift through the church porches, With a waving of torches, And a shriek and a yell Like the devils of hell. With pike and with axe In rushed the Cossacks, — In rushed the Cossacks, crying, " Murder the FRIARS ! " Ah! what a thrill felt Hvacinth, Of Hyacinth. his outrageous When he heard that villanous shout Calmuc ! address ; Now, thought he, my trial beglnneth; Saints, give me courage and pluck ! " Courage, boys, 'tis useless to funk ! " Thus unto the friars he began : " Never let it be said that a monk Is not likewise a gentleman. 138 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC Though the patron saint of the church. Spite of all that we've done and we've pray'd, Leaves us wickedly here in the lurch, Hans it. crentlemen. who's afraid? " And prepara- tion for dying. As thus the gallant Hyacinthus spoke, He. with an air as easy and as free as If the quick-coming murder were a joke. Folded his robes around his sides, and took Place under sainted Sophy's legs of oak, Like Cffsar at the statue of Pompeius. The monks no leisure had about to look (Each being absorbed in his particular case), Else had thev seen with what celestial grrace A wooden smile stole o'er the saint's mahogany face. Saint Sophia, her speech. '■ Well done, well done. Hyacinthus, my son ! " Tlius spoke the sainted statue. " Though you doubted me in the hour of need, And spoke of me very rude indeed, You deserve good luck for showing such pluck, And I won't be ansrv at vou. " She gets on the prior's shoulder straddleback. And hids him run. The monks by-standing, one and all. Of this wondrous scene beholders, To this kind promise listened content, And couldn't contain their astonishment, When Saint Sophia moved and went Down from her wooden pedestal. And twisted her legs, sure as eggs is eggs, Round Hyacinthus's shoulders 1 " Ho I forwards," cries Sophy, " there's no time for waiting. The Cossacks are breaking the very last gate In: THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 139 See the glare of their torches shines red through the grating: We've still the back door, and two minutes or more. Now bovs, now or never, we must make for the river, For we only are safe on the opposite shore. Run swiftly to-day, lads, if ever you ran, — Put out your best leg, Hyacinthus, my man ; And I'll lay five to two that you carry us through, Only scamper as fast as you can." xvin Away went the priest through the little back door, He runneth. And light on his shoulders the image he bore : The honest old priest was not punished the least, Though the image was eight feet, and he measured four. Away went the prior, and the monks at liis tail Went snorting, and puffing, and panting full sail ; And just as the last at the back door had passed, In furious hunt behold at the front The Tartars so fierce, with their terrible cheers ; With axes, and halberts, and muskets, and spears, With torches a-flaming the chapel now came in. Thev tore up the mass-book, they stamped on the psal- ter, Thev pulled the gold crucifix down from the altar : The vestments they burned with their blasphemous fires, And many cried, " Curse on tlieiu ! where arc the friars? " When loaded with plunder, yet seeking for more, One chanced to fling open the little back door, Spied out the friars' white robes and long shadows In the moon, scampering over the meadows, And stopped the Cossacks in the midst of their arsons, Bv crvino; out lustilv, " There go the PAKSOXS ! " And the Tartars ^ - after hmi. With a whoop and a yell, and a scream and a shout. At once the whole murderous body turned out ; UO THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC And swift as the hawk pounces down on the pigeon, Pursued the poor short-winded men of religion. How the friars When the sound of that cheering came to the monks' sweated. , hearing, O heaven ! how the poor fellows panted and blew ! At fighting not cunning, unaccustomed to running. When the Tartars came up, what the deuce should they do? " They'll make us all martyrs, those blood-thirsty Tartars ! " Quoth fat Father Peter to fat Father Hugh. The shouts they came clearer, the foe they drew nearer ; Oh, how the bolts whistled, and how the lights shone ! " I cannot get further, this running is murther ; Come carry me, some one ! " cried big Father John. And even the statue grew frightened, " Od rat j'ou ! " It cried, " Mr. Prior, I wish you'd get on ! " On tugged the good friar, but nigher and nigher Appeared the fierce Russians, with sword and with fire. On tugged the good prior at Saint Sophy's desire, — A scramble through bramble, through mud, and through mire. The swift arrows' whizziness causing a dizziness, Nigh done his business, fit to expire. Father Hyacinth tugged, and the monks they tugged after: The foemen pursued with a horrible laughter, And the pur- j^-jr^^^ hurl'd their Ions: spears round the poor breth- suers fixed o j. arrows into ren's ears, their tayls. . r i ■ l So true, that next day m the coats of each priest, Though never a wound was given, there were found A dozen arrows at least. THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC 141 Now the chase seemed at its worst, How, at the last gasp, Prior and monks were fit to burst ; Scarce you knew the which was first, Or pursuers or pursued ; When the statue, by heaven's grace, Suddenly did change the face Of this interesting race. As a saint, sure, only could. For as the jockey who at Epsom rides. When that his steed is spent and punished sore, Diggeth his heels into the courser's sides. And thereby makes him run one or two furlongs more; Even thus, betwixt the eighth rib and the ninth, The saint rebuked the prior, that weary creeper ; Fresh strength into his limbs her kicks imparted. One bound he made, as gay as when he started. The friars won, . . . , and jumped Yes, with his brethren clinging at his cloak, into Borys- The statue on his shoulders — fit to choke — One most tremendous bound made Hyacinth, And soused friars, statue, and all, slapdash into the Dnieper! thenes fiuvius. XIX And when the Russians, in a fiery rank, And how the Russians saw Panting and fierce, drew up along the shore; (For here the vain pursuing they forbore. Nor cared they to surpass the river's bank,) Then, looking from the rocks and rushes dank, A sight they witnessed never seen before. And which, with its accompaniments glorious, Is writ i' the golden book, or liber aureus. 142 THE GREAT COSSACK EPIC The statue get Plump in the Dnieper flounced the friar otf Hyacinth ^ i /. • , his back, and and friends, — the fHars on Tliey dangHug round his neck, he fit to choke. Hyacinth his When Suddenly his most miraculous cloak Over the billowy waves itself extends, Down from his shoulders quietly descends The venerable Sophy's statue of oak ; Which, sitting down upon the cloak so ample, Bids all the brethren follow its example ! away. How in this Eacli at her bidding sat, and sat at ease ; ,,. manner of boat . \ I they sayied The statuc 'gau a gracious conversation, 'I And (waving to the foe a salutation) Sail'd with her wondering happy proteges Gaily adown the wide Borysthenes, Until they came unto some friendly nation. And when the heathen had at length grown shy of Their conquest, she one day came back again to Kioff*. XX I Finis, or the ThINK NOT, O ReaDER, THAT We'rE LAUGHING AT \ end. YOU ; You MAY GO TO KlOFF NOW, AND SEE THE STATUE ! KING CANUTE King Canute was weary-hearted ; he had reigned for years a score, Batthng, strugghng, pushing, fighting, kilHng much and robbing more ; And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild sea-shore. I 'Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with steps sedate, Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and gold- sticks great, Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages,— all the officers of state. Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause. If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped their jaws; If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in loud hcc-haws- But that day a something vexed him, that was clear to old and young: Thrice his Grace had yawned at table, when his favourite glee- men sung. Once the Queen would have consoled him, but he bade her hold her tongue. " Something nils my gracious master, " cried the Keeper of the Seal. " Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served to dinner, or tlio veal? " " Psha! " exclaimed the angry monarch. " Keeper, 'tis not that I feeJ. 143 lU KING CANUTE ■' 'Tis the heart, and not the dinner, fool, that doth my rest impair : Can a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet knoAv no care? Oil, I'm sick, and tired, and weary." — Some one cried, " The King's arm-chair ! " Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my Lord the Keeper nodded. Straight the King's great chair was brought him, by two foot- men able-bodied; Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably wadded. " Leading on my fierce companions," cried he, " over storm and brine, I have fought and I have conquered ! Where was glory like to mine? " Loudly all the courtiers echoed: "Where is glory like to thine?" " What avail me all my kingdoms ? Weary am I now and old ; Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead and cold ; Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the silent mould! " Oh, remorse, the writhing serpent ! at my bosom tears and bites ; Horrid, horrid things I look on, though I put out all the lights ; Ghosts of ghastly recollections troop about my bed at nights. " Cities burning, convents blazing, red with sacrilegious fires ; Mothers weeping, virgins screaming: vainly for their slaugh- tered sires." — " Such a tender conscience," cries the Bishop, " every one admires. " But for such unpleasant bj^gones, cease, my gracious lord, to search. They're forgotten and forgiven by our Holy ]Mother Church ; Never, never does she leave her benefactors in the lurch. KING CANUTE 145 •• Look ! the land is crowned with minsters, which your Grace's bounty raised ; [praised : Abbeys filled with holy men, where you and Heaven are daily You, my lord, to think of dying? on my conscience I'm amazed ! " " Nay, I feel," replied King Canute, " that my end is drawing near." " Don't say so," exclaimed the courtiers (striving each to squeeze a tear). " Sure your Grace is strong and lusty, and may live this fifty year." " Live these fifty years ! " the bishop roared, with actions made to suit. [Canute ! " Are you mad, my good Lord Keeper, thus to speak of King Men have lived a thousand years, and sure his Majesty will do't. " Adam, Enoch, Lamech, Cainan, Mahaleel, Methusela, [as they.? " Lived nine hundred years apiece, and mayn't the King as well " Fervently," exclaimed the Keeper, " fervently I trust he may." " He to die ? " resumed the Bishop. " He a mortal like to us ? Death was not for him intended, though communis omnibus : Keeper, you are irreligious, for to talk and cavil thus. " With his wondrous skill in healing ne'er a doctor can compete, Loathsome lepers, if he touch them, start up clean upon their feet; Surely he could raise the dead up, did his Highness think it meet. " Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon the hill. And, the while he slew the focmen, bid the silver moon stand still .? So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his sacred will." " Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop? " Canute cried; " Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her heavenly ride? If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command the tide. 146 KING CANUTE 5J " Will the advancing waves obey me, Bishop, if I make the sign? Said the Bishop, bowing lowly, " Land and sea, my lord, are thine." Canute turned towards the ocean — " Back ! " he said, "thou foaming brine. " From the sacred shore I stand on, I command thee to retreat ; A\^nture not, thou stormy rebel, to approach thy master's seat: Ocean, be thou still ! I bid thee come not nearer to my feet ! " But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper roar. And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on the shore ; Back the Keeper and the Bishop, back the King and courtiers bore. And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to human clay, But alone to praise and worship That which earth and seas obey: And his golden crown of empire never wore he from that day. King Canute is dead and gone : Parasites exist alway. FRIAR'S SONG Some love the matin-chimes, which tell The hour of prayer to sinner : But better far's the mid-day bell, Which speaks the hour of dinner ; For when I see a smoking fish, Or capon drown'd in gravy, Or noble haunch on silver dish. Full glad I sing my ave. My pulpit is an alehouse bench. Whereon I sit so jolly; A smiling rosy country wench My saint and patron holy. I kiss her cheek so red and sleek, I press her ringlets wavy. And in her willing ear I speak A most religious ave. And if I'm blind, yet heaven is kind. And holy saints forgiving; For sure he leads a right good life Who thus admires good living. Above, they say, our flesh is air. Our blood celestial ichor: Oh, grant ! mid all the changes there, They may not change our liquor! 147 ATRA CURA Before I lost my five poor wits, I mind me of a Romish clerk, Who sang how Care, the phantom dark, Beside the belted horseman sits. Methought I saw the grisly sprite Jump up but now behind my Knight. And though he gallop as he may, I mark that cursed monster black Still sits behind his honour's back. Tight squeezing of his heart alway. Like two black Templars sit they there, Beside one crupper, Knight and Care. No knight am I with pennoned spear, To prance upon a bold destrere: I will not have black Care prevail Upon my long-eared charger's tail. For lo, I am a witless fool, And laugh at Grief and ride a mule. 148 REQUIESCAT Under the stone you behold, Buried, and coffined, and cold, Lieth Sir Wilfrid the Bold. Always he marched in advance, Warring in Flanders and France, Doughty with sword and with lance. Famous in Saracen fight. Rode in his youth the good knight, Scattering Paynims in flight. Brian the Templar untrue, Fairly in tourney he slew. Saw Hierusalem too. Now he is buried and gone, Lying beneath the grey stone: Where shall you find such a one.'* Long time his widow deplored, Weeping the fate of her lord, Sadly cut off by the sword. When she was eased of her pain. Came the good Lord Athclstane, When her ladyship married again. 14.9 LINES UPON MY SISTER'S PORTRAIT BY THE LORD SOUTHDOWN The castle towers of Bareacres are fair upon the lea. Where the cliffs of bonny 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 : There ne'er was nobler cognizance on knightly warrior's shield. 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 ! O 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 Poictiers, The pennon of the Bareacres was foremost on the spears ! 'Twas pleasant in the battle-shock to hear our war-cry ringing: Oh 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 ! O knights, my noble ancestors ! and shall I never hear St. 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 ! . 150 LINES UPON MY SISTER'S PORTRAIT 151 Dash down, dash down, yon Mandohn, beloved sister mine ! Those blushing lips may never sing 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 be happy, 'twere sacrilege to smile. I'll hie me to my lonely hall, and by its cheerless hob I'll muse on other days, and wish — and wish I were— A Snob. TITMARSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE Lille, Sept. 2, 1843. My heart is weary, my peace is gone. How shall I «'er my woes reveal ? I have no money, I lie in pawn, A stranger in the town of lAlle. With twenty pounds but three weeks since From Paris forth did Titmarsh wheel, I thought myself as rich a prince As beggar poor I'm now at Lille. Confiding in my ample means — In troth, I was a happy chiel ! I passed the gates of Valenciennes, I never thought to come by Lille. I never thought my twenty pounds Some rascal knave would dare to steal; I gaily passed the Belgic bounds At Quievrain, twenty miles from Lille. 159 TITMARSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE 153 To Antwerp town I hasten'd post, And as I took my evening meal I felt my pouch, — my purse was lost, Heaven ! Why came I not by Lille ? I straightway called for ink and pen, To grandmamma I made appeal; Meanwhile a loan of guineas ten 1 borrowed from a friend so leal. I got the cash from grandmamma (Her gentle heart my woes could feel,) But where I went, and what I saw. What matters? Here I am at Lille. My heart is weary, my peace is gone, How shall I e'er my woes reveal? I have no cash, I lie in pawn, A stranger in the town of Lille. n To stealing I can never come. To pawn my watch I'm too genteel, Besides, I left my watch at home. How could I pawn it then at Lille? " La note, " at times the guests will say. I turn as white as cold boii'd veal ; I turn and look another way, / dare not ask the bill at Lille, 154 TITMARSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE I dare not to the landlord say, " Good sir, I cannot pay your bill ; ' He thinks I am a Lord Anglais, And is quite proud I stay at Lille. He thinks I am a Lord Anglais, Like Rothschild or Sir Robert Peel, And so he serves me every day The best of meat and drink in Lille. Yet when he looks me in the face I blush as red as cochineal; And think did he but know my case, How changed he'd be, my host of Lille. My heart is weary, my peace is gone, How shall I e'er my woes reveal.'' I have no money, I lie in pawn, A stranger in the town of Lille. in The sun bursts out in furious blaze, I perspirate from head to heel ; I'd like to hire a one-horse chaise. How can I, without cash at Lille? I pass in sunshine burning hot By cafes where in beer they deal; I think how pleasant were a pot, A frothing pot of beer of Lille ! Ii TITMARSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE 155 What is yon house with walls so thick, All girt around with guard and grille? O gracious gods ! it makes me sick, It is the prison-house of Lille ! cursed prison strong and barred, It does my very blood congeal ! 1 tremble as I pass the guard, And quit that ugly part of Lille. The church-door beggar whines and prays, I turn away at his appeal : Ah, church-door beggar ! go thy ways ! You're not the poorest man in Lille. My heart is weary, my peace is gone, How shall I e'er my woes reveal? I have no money, I lie in pawn, A stranger in the town of Lille. IV Say, shall I to yon Flemish cluu-ch, And at a Popish altar kneel? Oh, do not leave me in the lurch,— I'll cry, ye patron-saints of Lille ! Ye virgins dressed in satin hoops. Ye martyrs slain for mortal weal. Look kindly down ! before you stoops The miserablest man in Lille. 156 TITMARSH'S CARMEN LILLIENSE And lo ! as I beheld with awe A pictured saint (I swear 'tis real), It smiled, and turned to grandmamma! — It did ! and I had hope in Lille ! 'Twas five o'clock, and I could eat, Although I could not pay my meal: I hasten back into the street Where lies my inn, the best in Lille. What see I on my table stand, — A letter with a well-known seal? 'Tis grandmamma's ! I know her hand, — " To Mr. M. A. Titmarsh, Lille. " I feel a choking in my throat, I pant and stagger, faint and reel ! It is — it is — a ten-pound note. And I'm no more in pawn at Lille ! [He goes off by the diligence that evening, and is restored to the bosom of his happy family. 1 THE WILLOW-TREE Know ye the willow-tree Whose grey leaves quiver, Whispering gloomily To yon pale river; Lady, at even-tide Wander not near it. They say its branches hide A sad, lost spirit ! Once to the willow-tree A maid came fearful. Pale seemed her cheek to be, Her blue eye tearful ; Soon as she saw the tree. Her step moved fleeter. No one was there — ah me! No one to meet her ! Quick beat her heart to hear The far bell's chime Toll from the chapcl-tower The trysting time: But the red sun went down In golden flame, And though she looked round, Yet no one came ! 1.57 158 THE WILLOW-TREE Presently came the night, Sadly to greet her, — Moon in her silver light, Stars in their glitter; Then sank the moon away Under the billow, Still wept the maid alone — There by the willow ! Through the long darkness. By the stream rolling. Hour after hour went on Tolling and tolling. Long was the darkness, Lonely and stilly ; Shrill came the night-wind. Piercing and chilly. Shrill blew the morning breeze, Biting and cold, Bleak peers the grey dawn Over the wold. Bleak over moor and stream Looks the grey dawn. Grey, with dishevelled hair. Still stands the willow there — The maid is gone ! Domine, Domine! Sing we a litany, — Sing for poor maiden-hearts broken and weary; Domine, Domine! Sing we a litany. Wail we and weep we a wild Miserere! THE WILLOW-TREE (another version) Long by the willow-trees Vainly they sought her, Wild rang the mother's screams O'er the grey water : " Where is my lovely one ? Where is my daughter? II " Rouse thee, sir constable — Rouse thee and look ; Fisherman, bring your net, Boatman your hook. Beat in the lily-beds. Dive in the brook ! " ni Vainl}- the constable Shouted and called her; Vainly the fisherman Beat the green alder, Vainly he flung the net, Never it hauled her! 159 160 THE WILLOW-TREE IV Mother beside the fire Sat, her nightcap in; Father, in easy chair, Gloomily napping. When at the window-sill Came a light tapping! And a pale countenance Looked through the casement. Loud beat the mother's heart, Sick with amazement. And at the vision which Came to surprise her. Shrieked in an agony — "Lor! it's Elizar!" VI Yes, 'twas Elizabeth — Yes, 'twas their girl ; Pale was her cheek, and her Hair out of curl. " Mother ! " the loving one, Blushing, exclaimed, *' Let not your innocent Lizzy be blamed. vn " Yesterday, going to aunt Jones's to tea. Mother, dear mother, I Forgot the door-key! THE WILLOW-TREE 161 And as the night was cold, And the way steep, Mrs. Jones kept nie to Breakfast and sleep." vni Whether her Pa and Ma Fully believed her, That we shall never know, Stern they received her; And for the work of that Cruel, though short, night, Sent her to bed without Tea for a fortnight. IX MOEAL Hey diddle diddlety. Cat and the Fiddlety, Maidens of England take caution by she! Let love and suicide Never tempt you aside. And always remember to take the door-key. LYRA HIBERNICA THE POEMS OF THE MOLONY OF KILBALLYMOLONY LYRA HIBERNICA THE POEMS OF THE MOLONY OF KILBALLYMOLONY THE PIMLICO PAVILION Ye pathrons of janius, Minerva and Vanius, Who sit on Parnassus, that mountain of snow, Descind from your station and make observation Of the Prince's pavilion in sweet Pimlico. This garden, by jakurs, is forty poor acres, (The garner he tould me, and sure ought to know;) And yet greatly bigger, in size and in figure, Than the Phanix itself, seems the Park Pimlico. O 'tis there that the spoort is, when the Queen and the Court is Walking magnanimous all of a row. Forgetful what state is among the pataties And the pine-apple gardens of sweet Pimlico. There in blossoms odorous the birds sing a chorus, Of " God save the Queen " as they hop to and fro ; And you sit on the binches and hark to the finches. Singing melodious in sweet Pimlico. 165 166 LYRA HIBERNICA There shuiting their phanthasles, they pluck polyanthuses That round in the gardens resplindently grow, Wid roses and jessimins, and other sweet speeimins, Would charm bould Linnayus in sweet Pimlico. You see when you inther, and stand in the cinther, Where the roses, and necturns, and coUyflowers blow, A hill so tremindous, it tops the top-windows Of the elegant houses of famed Pimlico. And when you've ascinded that precipice splindid You see on its summit a wondtherful show — A lovely Swish building, all painting and gilding. The famous Pavilion of sweet Pimlico. Prince Albert, of Flandthers, that Prince of Commandthers, (On whom my best blessings hereby I bestow,) With goold and vermilion has decked that Pavilion, Where the Queen may take tay in her sweet Pimlico. There's lines from John Milton the chamber all gilt on, And pictures beneath them that's shaped like a bow; I was greatly astounded to think that that Roundhead Should find an admission to famed Pimlico. lovely's each fresco, and most picturesque ; And while round the chamber astonished I go, 1 think Dan Maclise's it baits all the pieces Surrounding the cottage of famed Pimlico. Eastlake has the chimney, (a good one to limn he,) And a vargin he paints with a sarpent below ; While bulls, pigs, and panthers, and other enchanthers, Are painted by Landseer in sweet Pimlico. THE PIMLICO PAVILION 167 And nature smiles opposite, Stanfield he copies it: O'er Claude or Poussang sure 'tis he that may crow ; But Sir Ross's best faiture is small mini-ature— He shouldn't paint frescoes in famed Pimhco. There's Leslie and Uwins has rather small doings ; There's Dyce, as brave masther as England can show ; And the flowers and the sthrawberries, sure he no dauber is, That painted the panels of famed Pimlico. In the pictures from Walther Scott, never a fault there's got, Sure the marble's as natural as thrue Scaglio ; And the Chamber Pompayen is sweet to take tay in, And ait butther'd muffins in sweet Pimlico. There's landscapes by Gruner, both solar and lunar, Them two little Doyles too, deserve a bravo ; Wid de piece by young Townsend, (for janius abounds in't;) And that's why he's shuited to paint Pimhco. That picture of Severn's is worthy of rever'nce, But some I won't mintion is rather so so ; For sweet philoso'phy, or crumpets and coffee, O where's a Pavilion like sweet Pimlico? O to praise this Pavilion would puzzle Quintilian, Daymosthencs, Brougham, or young Cicero; So heavenly Goddess, d'ye pardon my modesty, And silence, my lyre ! about sweet Pimlico. THE CRYSTAL PALACE With ganial foire Thransfuse me loyre, Ye sacred nymphs of Pindus, The whoile I sing That wondthrous thing, The Palace made o' windows! Say, Paxton, truth, Thou wondthrous youth. What sthroke of art ceHstial, What power was lint You to invint This combineetion cristial. O would before That Thomas Moore, Likewoise the late Lord Boyron, Thim aigles sthrong Of godlike song. Cast oi on that cast oiron! And saw thim walls. And glittering halls, Thim rising slendther columns, Which I poor pote. Could not denote. No, not in twinty vollums. 168 THE CRYSTAL PALACE 169 My ]\Iuse's words Is like the bird's That roosts beneath the panes there; Her wings she spoils 'Gainst them bright tolles, And cracks her silly brains there. This Palace tall, This Cristial Hall, Which Impcrors might covet, Stands in High Park Like Noah's Ark, A rainbow bint above it. The towers and fanes, In other scaynes. The fame of this will undo, Saint Paul's big doom. Saint Payther's Room, And Dublin's proud Rotundo. • 'Tis here that roams, As well becomes Her dignitce and stations, Victoria Great, And houlds in state The Congress of the Nations. Her subjects pours From distant shores. Her Injians and Canajians; And also we, Her kingdoms three, Attind with our allagiance. 170 LYRA HIBERNICA Here come likewise Her bould allies, Both Asian and Europian ; From East and West They send their best To fill her Coornucopean. I seen (thank Grace!) This wondthrous place (His Noble Honour Misther H. Cole it was That gave the pass, And let me see what is there). With conscious proide I stud insoidc And look'd the World's Great Fair in, Until me sight Was dazzled quite, And couldn't see for staring. j There's holy saints And window paints, By Maydiayval Pugin; Alhamborough Jones Did paint the tones Of yellow and gambouge in. There's fountains there And crosses fair; There's water-gods with urrns: There's organs three. To play, d'ye see? " God save the Queen, " by turrns. THE CRYSTAL PALACE 171 There's Statues bright Of marble white, Of silver, and of copper; And some in zinc, And some, I think. That isn't over proper. There's staym Ingynes, That stands in lines, Enormous and amazing. That squeal and snort Like whales in sport, Or elephants a-grazing. There's carts and gigs. And pins for pigs, There's dibblers and there's harrows, And ploughs like toys For little boys. And ilegant wheel-barrows. For thim genteels Who ride on wheels. There's plenty to indulge 'em: There's Droskys snug From Paytersbug, And vayhycles from Bulgium. There's Cabs on Stands And Shandthry danns ; There's Waggons from New York here; There's Lapland Sleighs Have cross'd the seas. And Jaunting Cyars from Cork here. 172 LYRA HIBERNICA Amazed I pass From glass to glass, Delolghted I survey 'em ; Fresh wondthers grows Before me nose In this sublime Musajum! Look, here's a fan From far Japan, A sabre from Damasco: There's shawls ye get From far Thibet, And cotton prints from Glasgow. There's German flutes, Marocky boots. And Naples Macaronies ; Bohaymia Has sent Bohay ; Polonia her polonies. There's granite flints That's quite imminse. There's sacks of coals and fuels, There's swords and guns. And soap in tuns. And Ginger-bread and Jewels. There's taypots there. And cannons rare ; There's coffins fill'd with roses; There's canvas tints. Teeth insthrumints, And shuits of clothes by Moses. 1851. I MOLONY'S LAMENT 173 \ There's lashins more j Of things in store, But thim I don't remimber; Nor could disclose i Did I compose From May time to Novimber! Ah, Judy thru ! I With ejes so blue. That you were here to view it! And could I screw j But tu pound tu, i 'Tis I would thrait you to it ! j So let us raise Victoria's praise, And Albert's proud condition, , That takes his ayse ' As he surveys i This Cristial Exhibition. MOLONY'S LAMENT O Tim, did you hear of thim Saxons, And read what the peepers report? They're goan to recal the Liftinant, And shut up the Castle and Coort ! 174 LYRA HIBERNICA Our desolate counthry of Oireland, They're bint, the blagyards, to desthroy, And now having murdthered our counthry, They're goin to kill the Viceroy, Dear boy; 'Twas he was our proide and our joy! And will we no longer behould him, Surrounding his carriage in throngs, As he weaves his cocked-hat from the windies, And smiles to his bould aid-de-congs? I liked for to see the young haroes. All shoining with sthripes and with stars, A horsing about in the Phaynix, And winking the girls in the cyars. Like Mars, A smokin' their poipes and cigyars. Dear Mitchell exoiled to Bermudies, Your beautiful oilids you'll ope. And there'll be an abondance of croyin' From O'Brine at the Keep of Good Hope, When they read of this news in the peepers, Acrass the Atlantical wave. That the last of the Oirish Liftinints Of the oisland of Seents has tuck lave. God save The Queen — she should betther behave. And what's to become of poor Dame Sthreet, And who'll ait the puffs and the tarts, Whin the Coort of imparial splindor From Doblin's sad city departs? MOLONY'S LAMENT 175 And who'll have the fiddlers and pipers, When the deuce of a Coort there remains? And where'll be the bucks and the ladies, To hire the Coort-shuits and the thrains? In sthrains. It's thus that ould Erin complains! There's Counsellor Flanagan's leedy 'Twas she in the Coort didn't fail, And she wanted a plinty of popplin. For her dthress, and her flounce, and her tail; She bought it of Misthress O'Grady, Eight shillings a yard tabinet. But now that the Coort is concluded, The divvle a yard will she get ; I bet, Bedad, that she wears the old set. There's Surgeon O'Toole and Miss Leary, They'd daylings at Madam O'Riggs' ; Each year at the dthrawing-room sayson, They mounted the neatest of wigs. When Spring, with its buds and its dasies, Comes out in her beauty and bloom, Thim tu'll never think of new jasies, Bccase there is no dthrawing-room, For whom They'd choose the expense to ashume. There's Alderman Toad and his lady, 'Twas they gave the Clart and the Poort, And the poinc-apples, turbots, and lobsters, To feast the Lord Liftinint's Coort. 176 LYRA HIBERNICA But now that the quality's goin, I warnt that the aiting will stop, And you'll get at the Alderman's teeble The devil a bite or a dthrop, Or chop ; And the butcher may shut up his shop. Yes, the grooms and the ushers are goin. And his Lordship, the dear honest man, And the Duchess, his eemiablc leedy. And Corry, the bould Connellan, And little Lord Hyde and the childthren, And the Chewter and Governess tu ; And the servants are packing their boxes, — Oh, murther, but what shall I due Without you? O Meery, with ois of the blue ! MR. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OF THE BALL GIVEN TO THE NEPAULESE AMBASSADOR BY THE PENINSULAR AND ORIENTAL COMPANY O WILL, ye choose to hear the news, Bcdad I cannot pass it o'er: I'll tell you all about the Ball To the Naypaulase Ambassador. Begor ! this fete all balls does bate At which I've worn a pump, and I Must here relate the splendthor great Of th' Oriental Company. I MR. MOLONY'S ACCOUNT OF THE BALL 177 These men of sinse dispoised cxpinse, To fete these black Achillescs. " We'll show the blacks," says they, " Almack's, And take the rooms at Willis's. " With flags and shawls, for these Nepauls, • They hung the rooms of Willis up, And decked the walls, and stairs, and halls, With roses and with lilies up. And Jullicn's band it tuck its stand. So sweetly in the middle there. And soft bassoons played heavenly chunes, And violins did fiddle there. And when the Coort was tired of spoort, I'd lave you, boys, to think there was A nate buffet before them set, Where lashins of good dhrink there was. At ten before the ball-room door, His moighty Excellency was. He smoiled and bowed to all the crowd, So gorgeous and immense he was. His dusky shuit, sublime and mute. Into the door-way followed him; And O the noise of the blackguard boys, As they hurrood and hollowed him I The noble Chair ^ stud at the stair, And bade the dthrums to thump ; and he Did thus evince, to that Black Prince, The welcome of his Company. 1 James Matheson, Esq., to whom, and the Board of Directors of the Peninsular and Oriental Company, I, Timothens Molony, late stoker on board the "Iberia," the "Lady Mary Wood," the " Ta^nis," and the Oriental steamships, humbly dedicate this production of my grateful muse. 178 LYRA HIBERNICA I O fair the girls, and rich the curls, And bright the oys you saw there, was; And fixed each oye, ye there could spoi. On Gineral Jung Bahawther, was ! This Gineral great then tuck his sate, With all the other ginerals, (Bedad his troat, his belt, his coat. All bleezed with precious minerals;) And as he there, with princely air, Recloinin on his cushion was. All round about his royal chair The squeezin and the pushin was. O Pat, such girls, such Jukes, and Earls, Such fashion and nobilitee ! Just think of Tim, and fancy him Amidst the hoigh gentilitee ! There was Lord De L'Huys, and the Portygeese Ministher and his lady there, And I reckonised, with much surprise. Our messmate, Bob O'Grady, there; There was Baroness Brunow, that looked like Juno, And Baroness Rehausen there, And Countess Roullier, that looked peculiar Well, in her robes of gauze in there. There was Lord Crowhurst (I knew him first, When only Mr. Pips he was). And Mick O'Toole, the great big fool. That after supper tipsy was. There was Lord Fingall, and his ladies all, And Lords Killeen and DufFerin, And Paddy Fife, with his fat wife; I wondther how he could stuff her in. VI I? THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK 179 There was Lord Belfast, that by nie past, And seemed to ask how should / go there? And the Widow Macrae, and Lord A. Hay, And the Marchioness of Sligo there. Yes, Jukes, and Earls, and diamonds, and pearls, And pretty girls, was spoorting there; And some beside (the rogues!) I spied, Behind the windics, coorting there. O, there's one I know, bedad would show As beautiful as any there, And I'd like to hear the pipers blow, And shake a f ut with Fanny there ! THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK Ye Genii of the nation. Who look with veneration. And Ireland's desolation onsaysingly deplore; Ye sons of General Jackson, Who thramplc on the Saxon, Attend to the thransaction upon Shannon shore. When William, Duke of Schumbug, A tyrant and a humbug. With cannon and with thunder on our city bore, Our fortitude and valliance Insthructed his battalions To rispict the galliant Irish upon Shannon shore. 180 LYRA HIBERNICA Since that capitulation, No city in this nation So grand a reputation could boast before, As Limerick prodigious. That stands with quays and bridges, And the ships up to the windies of the Shannon shore. a A chief of ancient line, 'Tis William Smith O'Brine Reprisints this darling Limerick, this ten years or more : O the Saxons can't endure To see him on the flure. And thrimble at the Cicero from Shannon shore ! 'i This valliant son of Mars Had been to visit Par's, That land of Revolution, that grows the tricolor; And to welcome his returrn From pilgrimages furren, } We invited him to tay on the Shannon shore. Then we summoned to our board Young Meagher of the sword: 'Tis he will sheathe that battle-axe in Saxon gore; And Mitchil of Belfast We bade to our repast, To dthrink a dish of coffee on the Shannon shore. Convaniently to hould These patriots so bould We tuck the opportunity of Tim Doolan's store; And with ornamints and banners (As becomes gintale good manners) We made the loveliest tay-room upon Shannon shore. THE BATTLE OF LIMERICK 181 'Twould binifit your sowls, To see the butthered rowls, The sugar-tongs and sangwidges and craim galyore, And the muffins and the crumpets, And the band of harps and thrumpets, To celebrate the sworry upon Shannon shore. Sure the Imperor of Bohay Would be proud to dthrink the tay That Misthress Biddy Rooney for O'Brine did pour ; And, since the days of Strongbow, There never was such Congo — Mitchil dthrank six quarts of it— by Shannon shore. But Clarndon and Corry Connellan beheld this sworry With rage and imulation in their black hearts' core ; And they hired a gang of ruffins To interrupt the muffins, And the fragrance of the Congo on the Shannon shore. When full of tay and cake, O'Brine began to spake ; But juice a one could hear him, for a sudden roar Of a ragamuffin rout Began to yell and shout. And frighten the propriety of Shannon shore. As Smith O'Brine harangued, They batthcrcd and they banged : Tim Doolan's doors and windics down they tore; They smashed the lovely windies (Hung with muslin from the Indies), Purshuing of their shindies upon Shannon shore. 182 LYRA HIBERNICA With throwing of brickbats, Drowned puppies and dead rats, These ruffin democrats themselves did lower; Tin kettles, rotten eggs. Cabbage-stalks, and wooden legs. They flung among the patriots of Shannon shore. O the girls began to scrame And upset the milk and crame; And the honourable gintlemin, they cursed and swore: And Mitchil of Belfast, 'Twas he that looked aghast. When they roasted him in effigy by Shannon shore. O the lovely tay was spilt On that day of Ireland's guilt; Says Jack Mitchil, " I am kilt ! Boys, where's the back door ? 'Tis a national disgrace: Let me go and veil me face ; " And he boulted with quick pace from the Shannon shore. " Cut down the bloody horde ! " Says Meagher of the sword, " This conduct would disgrace any blackamore ; " But the best use Tommy made Of his famous battle blade Was to cut his own stick from the Shannon shore. Immortal Smith O'Brine Was raging like a line ; Twould have done your sowl good to have heard him roar ; In his glory he arose. And he rush'd upon his foes. But they hit him on the nose by the Shannon shore. LARRY O'TOOLE 183 Then the Futt and the Dthragoons In squadthrons and platoons, With their music playing chunes, down upon us bore ; And they bate the rattatoo, But the Peelers came in view, And ended the shaloo on the Shannon shore. LARRY O'TOOLE You've all heard of Larry O'Toole, Of the beautiful town of Drumgoole; He had but one eye, To ogle ye by — Oh, murther, but that was a jew'l! A fool He made of de girls, dis O'Toole. 'Twas he was the boy didn't fail, That tuck down pataties and mail; He never would shrink From any sthrong dthrink, Was it whisky or Drogheda ale; Fm bail This Larry would swallow a pail. Oh, many a night at the bowl. With Larry I've sot cheek by jowl; He's gone to his rest, Where there's dthrink of the best. And so let us give his old sowl A howl. For 'twas he made the noggin to rowl. THE ROSE OF FLORA Sent by a Young Gentleman of Quality to Miss Br—dy, of Castle Brady. On Brady's tower there grows a flower, It is the lovehest flower that blows, — At Castle Brady there lives a lady, (And how I love her no one knows) ; Her name is Nora, and the goddess Flora Presents her with this blooming rose. " O Lady Nora," says the goddess Flora, " I've many a rich and bright parterre ; In Brady's towers there's seven more flowers. But you're the fairest lady there: Not all the county, nor Ireland's bounty. Can proj nice a treasure that's half so fair ! " | What cheek is redder? sure roses fed her! | Her hair is maregolds, and her eye of blew. | Beneath her eyelid, is like the vi'let, | That darkly glistens with gentle jew! | The hly's nature is not surely whiter | Than Nora's neck is,— and her arrums too. " Come, gentle Nora," says the goddess Flora, " My dearest creature, take my advice, There is a poet, full well you know it. Who spends his lifetime in heavy sighs,— Young Redmond Barry, 'tis him you'll marry. If rhyme and raisin you'd choose likewise." 184 THE LAST IRISH GRIEVANCE On reading of the general indignation occasioned in Ireland by the appoint- ment of a Scotch Professor to one of Her Majesty's Godless Colleges, Master MoLLOY MoLONV, brother of Thaddeus Molony, Esq., of the Temple, a youth only fifteen years of age, dashed off the following spirited lines: — As I think of the insult that's done to this nation, Red tears of rivinge from me faytures I wash, And uphold in this pome, to the world's daytistation, The sleeves that appointed Professor M'Cosh. I look round me counthree, renowned by exparience. And see midst her childthren, the witty, the wise, — Whole hayps of logicians, potes, schollars, grammarians, All ayger for pleeces, all panting to rise; I gaze round the world in its utmost diminsion ; Lard Jahn and his minions in Council I ask, Was there ever a Government-plcece (with a pinsion) But children of Erin were fit for that task? What, Erin beloved, is thy fetal condition? What shame in aych boosom must rankle and burrun, To think that our countrcc has ne'er a logician In the hour of her decnger will surrcv her turrun ! On the logic of Saxons there's little reliance. And, rather from Saxons than gather its rules, I'd stamp under feet the base book of his science, And spit on his chair as he taught in tiic scliools ! 185 186 LYRA HIBERNICA O false SiE John Kane ! is it thus that you praych me? I think all your Queen's Universitees Bosh; And if you've no neetive Professor to taych me, I scawurn to be learned by the Saxon M'Cosh. There's Wiseman and Chume, and His Grace the Lord Primate, That sinds round the box, and the world will subscribe ; 'Tis they'll build a College that's fit for our climate, And taych me the saycrets I bum to imboibe! 'Tis there as a Student of Science I'll enther, Fair Fountain of Knowledge, of Joy, and Contint! Saint Pathrick's sweet Statue shall stand in the centher, And wink his dear oi every day during Lint. And good Doctor Newman, that praycher unwary, 'Tis he shall preside the Academee School, And quit the gay robe of St. Philip of Neri, To wield the soft rod of St. Lawrence O'Toole ! THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X THE WOFLE NEW BALLAD OF JANE RONEY AND MARY BROWN An igstrawnary tail I vill tell you this veek — I stood in the Court of A'Beckett the Beak, Vere Mrs. Jane Roney, a vidow, I see, Who charged Mary Brown with a robbin of she. This Mary was pore and in misery once, And she came to Mrs. Roney it's more than twelve monce. She adn't got no bed, nor no dinner nor no tea, And kind Mrs. Roney gave Mary all three. Mrs. Roney kep Mary for ever so many veeks, (Her conduct disgusted the best of all Beax,) She kep her for nothink, as kind as could be. Never thinkin that this Mary was a traitor to she. " Mrs. Roney, O Mrs. Roney, I feel very ill ; Will you just step to the Doctor's for to fetch me a pill.'' " " That I will, my pore Mary," Mrs. Roney says she ; And she goes off to the Doctor's as quickly as may be. 18T 188 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X No sooner on this message Mrs. Roney was sped, Than hup gits vicked Mary, and jumps out a bed; She hopens all the trunks without never a key— She bustes all the boxes, and vith them makes free. Mrs. Roney's best linning, gownds, petticoats, and close, Her children's little coats and things, her boots, and her hose. She packed them, and she stole 'em, and avay vith them did flee. Mrs. Roney's situation— you may think vat it vould be! Of Mary, ungrateful, who had served her this vay, Mrs. Roney heard nothink for a long year and a day. Till last Thursday, in Lambeth, ven whom should she see But this Mary, as had acted so ungrateful to she.'' She was leaning on the helbo of a worthy young man, They were going to be married, and were walkin hand in hand; And the Church bells was a ringing for Mary and he, | And the parson was ready, and a waitin for his fee. When up comes Mrs. Roney, and faces Mary Brown, Who trembles, and castes her eyes upon the ground. She calls a jolly pleaseman, it happens to be me; I charge this young woman, Mr. Pleaseman, says she. " Mrs. Roney, o, Mrs. Roney, o, do let me go, I acted most ungrateful I own, and I know. But the marriage bell is a ringin, and the ring you may see, And this young man is a waitin," says Mary says she. " I don't care three fardens for the parson and dark. And the bell may keep ringin from noon day to dark. Mary Brown, Mary Brown, you must come along with me; And I think this young man is lucky to be free." m JANE RONEY AND MARY BROWN 189 So, in spite of the tears which bejew'd Mary's cheek, I took that young gurl to A'Bcckett the Beak; That exlent Justice demanded her plea — But never a sullable said Mary said she. On account of her conduck so base and so vile, That wicked young gurl is committed for trile. And if she's transpawted beyond the salt sea. It's a proper reward for such willians as she. Now you young gurls of Southwark for Mary who veep, From pickin and stealin your ands you must keep, Or it may be my dooty, as it was Thursday veek. To pull you all hup to A'Beckett the Beak. THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS My name is Pleaceman X ; Last night I was in bed, A dream did me perplex, Which came into my Edd. I dreamed I sor three Waits A playing of their tune. At Pimlico Palace gates, All underneath the moon. One puffed a hold French horn, And one a hold Banjo, And one chap seedy and torn A Hirish pipe did blow. They sadly piped and played, Dexcribing of their fates ; And this was what they said, Those three pore Christmas Waits: — 190 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X " When this black year began, This Eighteen-forty-eight, I was a great great man, And king both vise and great, And Munseer Guizot by me did show As Minister of State. <( But Febuwerry came, And brought a rabble rout, And me and my good dame And children did turn out, And us, in spite of all our right, Sent to the right about. ' I left my native ground, I I left my kin and kith, I left my royal crownd, Vich I couldn't travel vith. And without a pound came to English ground, In the name of Mr. Smith. ' Like any anchorite I've lived since I came here, I've kep myself quite quite, I've drank the small small beer. And the vater, you see, disagrees vith me And all my famly dear. O Tweeleries so dear, O darling Pally Royl, Vas it to finish here That I did trouble and toyl ? That all my plans should break in my ands, And should on me recoil .'* i THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS 191 " My state I fenced about Vith baynicks and vith guns; My gals I portioned hout, Rich vives I got my sons ; varn't it crule to lose my rule, My money and lands at once ? " O Prins, so brave and stout, Both troubled and shagreened, 1 bid you to rejoice, glorious England's Queend ! And never have to veep, like pore Louis-Phileep, Because you out are cleaned. " O Prins, so brave and stout, 1 stand before your gate; Pray send a trifle hout To me, your pore old Vait; For nothink could be vuss than it's been along vith us In this year Forty-eight. " *' Ven this bad year began, " The nex man said, saysee, " I vas a Journeyman, A taylor black and free, And my wife went out and chaired about, And my name's the bold Cuff^ee. " The Queen and Halbert both I swore I would confound, I took a hawfle hoath To drag them to the ground; And sevral more with me they swore Aginst the British Crownd, 192 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X " Aginst her Pleacemen all We said we'd try our strenth; Her scarlick soldiers tall We vow'd we'd lay full lenth: And out we came, in Freedom's name, Last Aypril was the tenth. ** Three 'undred thousand snobs Came out to stop the vay, Vith sticks vith iron knobs, Or else we'd gained the day. The harmy quite kept out of sight, And so ve vent avay. " Next day the Pleacemen came — Rewenge it was their plann — And from my good old dame They took her tailor-mann : And the hard hard beak did me bespeak To Newgit in the Wann. " In that etrocious Cort The Jewry did agree ; The Judge did me transport, To go beyond the sea: And so for life, from his dear wife They took poor old CufFee. " O Halbert, Appy Prince ! With children round your knees, Ingraving ansum Prints, And taking hofF your hease; O think of me, the old Cuffee, Be^'ond the solt solt seas ! THE THREE CHRISTMAS WAITS 198 " Although I'm hold and black, INI}' hanguish is most great; Great Prince, O call me back, And I vill be your Vait ! And never no more vill break the Lor, As I did in 'Forty-eight." The tailer thus did close (A pore old blacky more rogue), When a dismal gent uprose, And spoke with Hirish brogue: " I'm Smith O'Brine, of Royal Line, Descended from Rory Ogue. " When great O'Connle died, That man whom all did trust. That man whom Henglish pride Beheld with such disgust. Then Erin free fixed eyes on me, And swoar I should be fust. " ' The glorious Hirish Crown,' Says she, ' it shall be thine : Long time, it's wery well known. You kep it in your line ; That diadem of hemerald gem Is yours, my Smith O'Brine. " ' Too long the Saxon churl Our land encumbered hath; Arise my Prince, my Earl, And brush them from thy path: Rise, mighty Smith, and sveep 'em vith The besom of your wrath.' 194 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X " Then in my might I rose, Mj country I surveyed, I saw it filled with foes, I viewed them undismayed; ' Ha, ha ! ' says I, ' the harvest's high, I'll reap it with my blade.' " M3' warriors I enrolled, They rallied round their lord; And cheafs in council old I summoned to the board — Wise Doheny and Duffy bold, And Meagher of the Sword. " I stood on Slievenamaun, They came with pikes and bills; They gathered in the dawn, Like mist upon the hills, And rushed adown the mountain side Like twenty thousand rills. " Their fortress we assail ; Hurroo ! my boys, hurroo ! The bloody Saxons quail To hear the wild shaloo : Strike, and prevail, proud Innesfail, O'Brine aboo, aboo ! " Our people they defied ; They shot at 'em like savages, Their bloody guns they plied With sanguinary ravages: Hide, blushing Glory, hide That day among the cabbages ! ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EVVENT 195 " And so no more I'll say, But ask your Mussy great, And humbly sing and pray. Your INIajesty's poor Wait: Your Smith O'Brine in 'Forty-nine Will blush for 'Forty-eight." LINES ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EWENT * By A GENTLEMAN OF THE FOOT-GUARDS (bLUE) I PACED upon my beat With steady step and slow, All huppandownd of Ranelagh Street; Ran'lagh St. Pimlico. While marching huppandownd Upon that fair May morn, Beold the booming carmings sound, A royal child is born ! The Ministers of State Then prcsnly I sor. They gallops to the Pallis gate, In carridges and for. With anxious looks intent, Before the gate they stop. There comes the good Lord President, And there the Archbishopp. 1 The birth of Prince Arthur. 196 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X Lord John he next elights ; And who comes here in haste? 'Tis the ero of one underd fights, The caudle for to taste. Then Mrs. Lily, the nuss. Towards them steps with joy; Says the brave old Duke, " Come tell to us, Is it a gal or a boy ? " Says Mrs. L. to the Duke, " Your Grace, it is a Prince.''^ And at that nuss's bold rebuke. He did both laugh and wince. He vews with pleasant look This pooty flower of May, Then, says the wenerable Duke, " Egad, it's my buthday." By memory backards borne, Peraps his thoughts did stray To that old place where he was born, Upon the first of May. Perhaps he did recal The ancient towers of Trim ; And County Meath and Dangan Hall They did rewisit him. I phansy of him so His good old thoughts employin*; Fourscore years and one ago Beside the flowin' Boyne. ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EWENT 197 His father praps he sees, Most musicle of Lords, A pla^ung maddrigles and glees Upon the Arpsicords. Jest phansy this old Ero Upon his mother's knee ! Did ever lady in this land Ave greater sons than she? And I shouldn be surprize While this was in his mind, If a drop there twinkled in his eyes Of unfamiliar brind. * * To Hapsly Ouse next day Drives up a Broosh and for, A gracious prince sits in that Shay (I mention him with Hor!) They ring upon the bell, The Porter shows his Ed, (He fought at Vaterloo as veil, And vears a Veskit red). To see that carriage come. The people round it press: " And is the galliant Duke at ome? " " Your Royal Ighness, yes." 198 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X He stepps from out the Broosh And in the gate is gone ; And X, although the people push, Says wery kind, " Move hon." The Royal Prince unto The galliant Duke did say, " Dear Duke, my little son and you Was born the self same day. " The Lady of the land. My wife and Sovring dear. It is by her horgust command I wait upon you here. " That lady is as well As can expected be; And to your Grace she bid me tell This gracious message free. a That offspring of our race, Whom yesterday you see. To show our honour for your Grace, Prince Arthur he shall be. *' That name it rhymes to fame ; All Europe knows the sound: And I couldn't find a better name If you'd give me twenty pound. " King Arthur had his knights That girt his table round. But you have won a hundred fights. Will match 'em I'll be bound. ON A LATE HOSPICIOUS EWENT 199 « You fought with Bonypart, And likewise Tippoo Saib; I name you then with all my heart The Godsire of this babe. " That Prince his leave was took, His hinterview was done. So let us give the good old Duke Good luck of his god-son. And wish him years of joy In this our time of Schism, And hope he'll hear the royal boy His little catechism. And my pooty little Prince That's come our arts to cheer. Let me my loyal powers ewince A welcomin of you ere. And the Poit-Laureat's crownd, I think, in some respex, Egstremely shootable might be found For honest Pleaseman X. THE BALLAD OF ELIZA DAVIS Galliant gents and lovely ladies, List a tail vich late befel, Vich I heard it, bein on duty, At the Pleace Hoffice, Clerkenwell. Praps you knoM- the Fondling Chapel, Vere the little children sings: (Lor! I likes to hear on Sundies Them there pooty little things!) 200 THE BALLAD OF ELIZA DAVIS 201 In this street there lived a housemaid, If you particklarly ask me where— Vy, it vas at four-and-tventy Guilford Street, by Brunsvick Square. Vich her name was Eliza Davis, And she went to fetch the beer: In the street she met a party As was quite surprized to see her. Vich he vas a British Sailor, For to judge him by his look: Tarry jacket, canvass trowsies, Ha-la Mr. T. P. Cooke. Presently this Mann accostes Of this hinnocent young gal— " Pray," saysee, " excuse my freedom, You're so like my Sister Sal ! "You're so like my Sister Sally, Both in valk and face and size, Miss, that— dang my old lee scuppers, It brings tears into my heyes ! " I'm a mate on board a wessel, I'm a sailor bold and true; Shiver up my poor old timbers, Let me be a mate for you! "What's your name, my beauty, tell me; And she faintly hansers, " Lore, Sir, my name's Eliza Davis, And I live at tventy-four." >» 202 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X Hofttimes came this British seaman, This deluded gal to meet ; And at tventy-four was welcome, Tventy-four in Guilford Street. And Eliza told her Master (Kinder they than Missuses are), How in marridge he had ast her. Like a galliant Brittish Tar. And he brought his landlad}' vith him, (Vich vas all his hartful plan). And she told how Charley Thompson Reely vas a good young man. And how she herself had lived in Many years of union sweet, Vith a gent she met promiskous, Valkin in the public street. And Eliza listened to them. And she thought that soon their bands Vould be published at the Fondlin, Hand the clergyman jine their ands. And he ast about the lodgers, (Vich her master let some rooms), Likevise vere they kep their things, and Vere her master kep his spoons. Hand this vicked Charley Thompson Came on Sundy veek to see her; And he sent Eliza Davis Hout to fetch a pint of beer. THE BALLAD OF ELIZA DAVIS 203 Hand while pore Eliza vent to Fetch the beer, dewoid of sin, This etrocious Charley Thompson Let his wile accomplish hin. To the lodgers, their apartments, This abandingd female goes, Prigs their shirts and umberellas ; Prigs their boots, and hats, and clothes. Vile the scoundrle Charley Thompson, Lest his wictim should escape, Hocust her vith rum and vater. Like a fiend in huming shape. But a hi was fixt upon 'em Vich these raskles little sore; Namely, Mr. Hide, the landlord Of the house at tventy-four. He vas valkin in his garden, Just afore he vent to sup ; And on looking up he sor the Lodgers' vinders lighted hup. Hup the stairs the landlord tumbled ; Something's going wrong, he said; And he caught the vicked voman Underneath the lodgers' bed. And he called a brother Pleaseman, Vich vas passing on his beat ; Like a true and galliant feller, Hup and down in Guilford Street. 204 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X And that Pleaseman able-bodied Took this voman to the cell; To the cell vere she was quodded, In the Close of Clerkenwell. And though vicked Charley Thompson Boulted like a miscrant base, Presently another Pleaseman Took him to the self-same place. And this precious pair of raskles Tuesday last came up for doom; By the beak they was committed, Vich his name was Mr. Combe. Has for poor Eliza Davis, Simple gurl of tventy-four, She, I ope, vill never listen In the streets to sailors moar. But if she must ave a sweet-art, (Vich most every gurl expex,) Let her take a jolly pleaseman ; Vich his name peraps is — X. DAMAGES, TWO HUNDRED POUNDS Special Jurymen of England ! who admire your country's laws, And proclaim a British Jury worthy of the realm's applause; Gaily compliment each other at the issue of a cause Which was tried at Guildford 'sizes, this day week as ever was. Unto that august tribunal comes a gentleman in grief, (Special was the British Jury, and the Judge, the Baron Chief,) Comes a British man and husband — asking of the law relief. For his wife was stolen from him — he'd have vengeance on the thief. Yes, his wife, the blessed treasure with the which his life was crowned. Wickedly was ravished from him by a hypocrite profound. And he comes before twelve Britons, men for sense and truth renowned, To award him for his damage, twenty hundred sterling pound. He by counsel and attorney there at Guildford docs appear, Asking damage of the villain who seduced his lady dear: But I can't help asking, though the lady's guilt was all too clear, And though guilty the defendant, wasn't the plaintiff rather queer.'' First the lady's mother spoke, and said she'd seen her daughter cry But a fortnight after marriage: early times for piping eye. Six months after, things were worse, and the piping eye was black, And this gallant British husband caned his wife upon the back. 205 206 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X Three months after they were married, husband pushed her to the door, Told her to be off and leave him, for he wanted her no more. As she would not go, why he went : thrice he left his lady dear ; Left her, too, without a penny, for more than a quarter of a year. Mrs. Frances Duncan knew the parties very well indeed, She had seen him pull his lady's nose and make her lip to bleed ; If he chanced to sit at home not a single word he said : Once she saw him throw the cover of a dish at his lady's head. Sarah Green, another witness, clear did to the jury note How she saw this honest fellow seize his lady by the throat. How he cursed her and abused her, beating her into a fit. Till the pitying next-door neighbours crossed the wall and witnessed it. Next door to this injured Briton Mr. Owers a butcher dwelt; Mrs. Owers's foolish heart towards this erring dame did melt ; (Not that she had erred as yet, crime Avas not developed in her), But being left without a penny, Mrs. Owers supplied her dinner- God be merciful to Mrs. Owers, who was merciful to this sinner ! Caroline Najdor was their servant, said they led a wretched life, Saw this most distinguished Briton fling a teacup at his wife ; He went out to balls and pleasures, and never once, in ten months' space. Sat with his wife or spoke her kindly. This was the defendant's case. Pollock, C. B., charged the Jury; said the woman's guilt was clear: That was not the point, however, which the Jury came to hear; But the damage to determine which, as it should true appear, This most tender-hearted husband, who so used his lady dear — DAiMAGES, TWO HUNDRED POUNDS 207 Beat her, kicked her, caned her, cursed her, left her starving, year by year. Flung her from him, parted from her, wrung her neck, and boxed her ear — What the reasonable damage this afflicted man could claim, By the loss of the affections of this guilty graceless dame? Then the honest British Twelve, to each other turning round, Laid their clever heads together with a wisdom most profound: And towards his Lordship looking, spoke the foreman wise and sound ; — " My Lord, we find for this here plaintiff, damages two hundred pound." So, God bless the Special Jury! pride and joy of English ground, And the happy land of England, where true justice does abound ! British jurymen and husbands, let us hail this verdict proper: If a British wife offends you, Britons, you've a right to whop her. Though you promised to protect her, though you promised to defend her. You are welcome to neglect her : to the devil you may send her : You may strike her, curse, abuse her; so declares our law re- nowned ; And if after this you lose her,— why, you're paid two hundred pound. THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY There's in the Vest a city pleasant To vich King Bladud gev his name, And in that city there's a Crescent Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame. Although that galliant knight is oldish, Although Sir John as grey, grey air, Hage has not made his busum coldish, His Art still beats tewodds the Fair ! 'Twas two years sins, this knight so splendid, Peraps fateagued with Bath's routines, To Paris towne his phootsteps bended In sutch of gayer folks and seans. His and was free, his means was easy, A nobler, finer gent than he Ne'er drove about the Shons-Eleesy, Or paced the Roo de Rivolee. I A brougham and pair Sir John prowided, i; In which abroad he loved to ride ; But ar! he most of all enjyed it, ;^ When some one helse was sittin' inside! | That " some one helse " a lovely dame was, Dear ladies, you will heasy tell— Countess Grabrowski her sweet name was^ A noble title, ard to spell. 20? THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY 209 This fajmus Countess ad a daughter Of lovely form and tender art ; A nobleman in marridge sought her, By name the Baron of Saint Bart. Their pashn touched the noble Sir John, It was so pewer and profound; Lady Grabrowski he did urge on With Hyming's wreeth their loves to crownd. a O, come to Bath, to Lansdowne Crescent," Says kind Sir John, " and live with me ; The living there's uncommon pleasant — I'm sure you'll find the hair agree. " O, come to Bath, my fair Grabrowski, And bring your charming girl," sezee; *' The Barring here shall have the ouse-key, Vith breakfast, dinner, lunch, and tea. <( And when they've passed an appy winter, Their opes and loves no more we'll bar; The marridge-vow they'll enter inter, And I at church will be their Par." To Bath they went to Lansdowne Crescent, Where good Sir John he did provide No end of teas and balls incessant. And bosses both to drive and ride. He was so Ospitably busy. When Miss was late, he'd make so bold Upstairs to call out, " Missy, Missy, Come down, the coffy's getting cold!" 210 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X But 0! 'tis sadd to think such bounties Should meet with such return as this; O Barring of Saint Bart, O Countess Grabrowski, and O cruel Miss! He married you at Bath's fair Habby, Saint Bart he treated like a son— And wasn't it uncommon shabby To do what you have went and done! My trembling And amost refewses To write the charge which Sir John swore, Of which the Countess he ecuses, Her daughter and her son-in-lore. My Mews quite blushes as she sings of The f atle charge which now I quote : He says Miss took his two best rings off, And pawned 'em for a tenpun note. " Is this the child of honest parince, To make away with folks' best things? Is this, pray, like the wives of Barrins, To go and prig a gentleman's rings?" Thus thought Sir John, by anger wrought on, And to rewenge his injured cause, :^ He brought them hup to Mr. Broughton, | Last Vensday veek as ever waws. ' If guiltless, how she have been slandered I If guilty, wengeance will not fail : Meanwhile the lady is remanded And gev three hundred pouns in bail. JACOB HOMNIUM'S HOSS A NEW PALLICE COURT CHAUKT NE sees in Viteall Yard, Vera pleacemen do resort, A wenerable hinstitute, 'Tis call'd the Pallis Court. A gent as got his i on it, I think 'twill make some sport. The natur of this Court My hindignation riles: A few fat legal spiders Here set & spin their viles ; To rob the town the^'r privlege is, In a hayrea of twelve miles. The Judge of this year Court Is a mellitary beak, He knows no more of Lor Than praps he does of Greek, And prowides hissclf a deputy Because he cannot speak. Four counsel in this Court — Misnamed of Justice — sits; These lawyers owes their places to Their money, not their wits ; And there's six attornics under them. As here their living gits. 211 212 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X These lawyers, six and four, Was a livin at their ease, A sendin of their writs abowt, And droring in the fees. When their erose a cirkimstance As is Hke to make a breeze. J It now is some monce since, A gent both good and trew Possest an ansum oss vith vich He didn know what to do: Peraps he did not Hke the oss, Peraps he was a scru. This gentleman his oss At Tattersall's did lodge; There came a wulgar oss-dealer, This gentleman's name did fodge, And took the oss from Tattersall's : Wasn that a artful dodge? One day this gentleman's groom This willain did spy out, A mounted on this oss A ridin him about; " Get out of that there oss, you rogue," Speaks up the groom so stout. The thief was cruel whex'd To find himself so pinn'd ; The oss began to whinny. The honest groom he grinn'd ; And the raskle thief got off the oss And cut avay like vind. JACOB HOMNIUM'S HOSS 213 And phansy with what joy The master did regard His dearly bluvd lost oss again Trot in the stable yard ! Who was this master good Of whomb I makes these rhymes? His name is Jacob Homnium, Exquire; And if 7'd committed crimes, Good Lord ! I wouldn't ave that mann Attack me in the Times I Now shortly after the groomb His master's oss did take up, There came a livery-man This gentleman to wake up ; And he handed in a little bill. Which hangered Mr. Jacob. For two pound seventeen This livery-man eplied. For the keep of Mr. Jacob's oss, Which the thief had took to ride. " Do you see anythink green in me? " Mr. Jacob Homnium cried. " Because a raskle chews My oss away to robb, And goes tick at your Mews For seven-and-fifty bobb, Shall 7 be call'd to pay? — It is A iniquitious Jobb." 214 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X Thus Mr. Jacob cut The conwasation short; The Hvery-man went ome, Detummingd to ave sport, And summingsd Jacob Homnium, Exquire, Into the Pallis Court. Pore Jacob went to Court, A Counsel for to fix, And choose a barrister out of the four, An attorney of the six: And there he sor these men of Lor, And watch'd 'em at their tricks. The dreadful day of trile In the Pallis Court did come; The lawyers said their say, The Judge look'd wery glum, And then the British Jury cast Pore Jacob Hom-ni-um. O a weary day was that For Jacob to go through; The debt was two seventeen (Which he no mor owed than you). And then there was the plaintives costs, Eleven pound six and two. And then there was his own, Which the lawyers they did fix At the wery moderit figgar Of ten pound one and six. Now Evins bless the Pallis Court, And all its bold ver-dicks ! JACOB HOMNIUM'S HOSS 215 I cannot settingly tell If Jacob swaw and cust, At aving for to pa}' this sumb; But I should think he must, And av drawn a cheque for £24 4*. Sd. With most igstreme disgust. O Pallis Court, jou move My pitty most profound. A most emusing sport You thought it, I'll be bound, To saddle hup a three-pound debt, With two-and-twenty pound. Good sport it is to you To grind the honest pore. To pay their just or unjust debts With eight hundred per cent, for Lor; Make haste and get your costes in, They will not last much mor ! Come down from that tribewn, Thou shameless and Unjust; Thou Swindle, picking pockets in The name of Truth august: Come down, thou hoary Blasphemy, For die thou shalt and must And go it, Jacob Homnium, And ply your iron pen, And rise up. Sir John Jervis, And shut me up that den ; That sty for fattening lawyers in, On the bones of honest men. Pleaceman X. THE SPECULATORS The night was stormy and dark, The town was shut up in sleep : Only those were abroad who were out on a lark, Or those who'd no beds to keep. I pass'd through the lonel}' street, The wind did sing and blow ; I could hear the policeman's feet Clapping to and fro. There stood a potato-man In the midst of all the wet; He stood with his 'tato-can In the lonely Haymarket. Two gents of dismal mien, And dank and greasy rags, Came out of a shop for gin, Swaggering over the flags : Swaggering over the stones. These shabbv bucks did walk ; And I went and followed those seedy ones. And listened to their talk. Was I sober or awake? Could I believe my ears? Those dismal beggars spake Of nothing but railroad shares. I wondered 'more and more: Says one — "Good friend of mine, How many shares have you wrote for. In the Diddlesex Junction line? " " I wrote for twenty," says Jim, " But they wouldn't give me one ; " His comrade straight rebuked him For the folly he had done: " O Jim, you are unawares Of the ways of this bad town ; I always write for five hundred shares, And tlien they put me down." S16 A WOEFUL NEW BALLAD 217 " And yet you got no shares," Sa^-s Jim, " for all your boast ; " "I zc-ould have wrote," says Jack, " but where Was the penny to pay the post ? " " I lost, for I couldn't pay That first instalment up : But here's 'taters smoking hot— I say, Let's stop, my boy, and sup." And at this simple feast The while they did regale, I drew each ragged capitalist Down on my left thumb-nail. Their talk did me perplex. All night I tumbled and tost, And thought of railroad specs. And how money was won and lost. " Bless railroads everywhere," I said, " and the world's ad- vance; Bless ever}' railroad share In Italy, Ireland, France; For never a beggar need now despair, And every rogue has a chance. " A WOEFUL XEW BALLAD OF THE PROTESTANT CONSPIRACY TO TAKE THE POPE'S LIFE (by a gextlemax who has beex ox the spot) Come all ye Christian people, unto my tale give ear, 'Tis about a base consperracy, as quickly shall appear; 'Twill make your hair to bristle up, and your eyes to start and glow When of this dread consperracy you honest folks shall know. 218 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X The news of this consperracy and villianous attempt, I read it in a newspaper, from Italy it was sent : It was sent from lovely Italy, where the olives they do grow, And our Holy Father lives, yes, yes, while his name it is No no. And 'tis there our English noblemen goes that is Puseyites no longer, Because they finds the ancient faith both better is and stronger. And 'tis there I knelt beside my lord when he kiss'd the Pope his And hung his neck with chains at Saint Peter's Vinculo. [toe, And 'tis there the splendid churches is, and the fountains play- ing grand, And the palace of Prince Torlonia, likewise the Vatican; And there's the stairs where the bagpipe-men and the piffararys blow. And it's there I drove my lady and lord in the Park of Pincio. And 'tis there our splendid churches is in all their pride and glory. Saint Peter's famous Basilisk and Saint Mary's Maggiory; And them benighted Prodestants, on Sunday they must go .|| Outside the town to the preaching-shop by the gate of Popolo. Now in this town of famous Room, as I dessay you have heard, There is scarcely any gentleman as hasn't got a beard. And ever since the world began it was ordained so, That there should always barbers be wheresumever beards do grow. And as it always has been so since the world it did begin, The Pope, our Holy Potentate, has a beard upon his chin ; And every morning regular when cocks begin to crow, There comes a certing party to wait on Pope Pig. There comes a certing gintlcman with razier, soap, and lather, A shaving most respectfully the Pope, our Holy Father. And now the dread consperracy I'll quickly to you show, Which them sanguinary Prodestants did form against NoNO. A WOEFUL NEW BALLAD 219 Them sanguinary Prodestants, which I abore and hate, Assembled in the preaching-shop by the Flaminian gate; And they took counsel with their solves to deal a deadly blow Against our gentle Father, the Holy Pope Pig. Exhibiting a wickedness which I never heerd or read of; What do 3'ou think them Prodestants wished? to cut the good Pope's head off! And to the kind Pope's Air-dresser the Prodestant Clark did go, And proposed him to decapitate the innocent Pio. " What hever can be easier," said this Clerk — this Man of Sin, " When you are called to hoperate on His Holincss's chin, Than just to give the razier a little slip — just so? — And there's an end, dear barber, of innocent Pio ! " This wicked conversation it chanced was overerd By an Italian lady ; she heard it every word : Which by birth she was a Marchioness, in service forced to go With the parson of the preaching-shop at the gate of Popolo. When the lady heard the news, as duty did obleege, As fast as her legs could carry her she ran to the Poleege. " O Polegia," says she (for they pronounts it so), " They're going for to massj^ker our Holy Pope Pio. " The cbomminable Englishmen, the Parsing and his Clark, His Holiness's Air-dresser devised it in the dark ! And I would recommend you in prison for to throw These villians would esassinate the Holy Pope Pio ! " And for saving of His Holiness and his trcbble crownd I humbly hope your Worships will give me a few pound; Because I was a Marchioness many years ago, Before I came to service at the gate of Popolo." 220 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X That sackreligious Air-dresser, the Parson and his man, Wouldn't, though ask'd continyally, own their wicked plan — And so the kind Authoraties let those villians go That was plotting of the murder of the good Pio Nono. Now isn't this safishnt proof, ye gentlemen at home, How wicked is them Prodestants, and how good our Pope at Rome ; So let us drink confusion to Lord John and Lord Minto, And a health unto His Eminence, and good Pio Nono. THE LAMENTABLE BALLAD OF THE FOUNDLING OF SHOREDITCH Come all ye Christian people, and listen to my tail, It is all about a doctor was travelling by the rail, By the Heastern Counties' Railway (vich the shares I don't desire). From Ixworth town in Suffolk, vich his name did not transpire. A travelling from Bury this Doctor was employed With a gentleman, a friend of his, vich his name was Captain Loyd, And on reaching Marks Tey Station, that is next beyond Colchest- er, a lady entered in to them most elegantly dressed. 221 222 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X She entered into the Carriage all with a tottering step, And a pooty little Bayby upon her bussum slep ; The gentlemen received her with kindness and siwillaty, Pitying this lady for her illness and debillaty. She had a fust-class ticket, this lovely lady said, Because it was so lonesome she took a secknd instead. Better to travel by secknd class, than sit alone in the fust, And the pooty little Baby upon her breast she nust. A seein of her cryin, and shiverin and pail. To her spoke this surging, the Ero of my tail; Saysee you look unwell. Ma'am, I'll elp you if I can, And you may tell your case to me, for I'm a meddicle man. " Thank you. Sir, " the lady said, " I only look so pale, Because I ain't accustom'd to travelling on the Rale; I shall be better presnly, when I've ad some rest : " And that pooty little Baby she squeeged it to her breast. So in conwersation the journey they beguiled, Capting Loyd and the meddicle man, and the lady and the child, Till the warious stations along the line was passed, For even the Heastern Counties' trains must come in at last. When at Shoreditch tumminus at lenth stopped the train. This kind meddicle gentleman proposed his aid again. " Thank you, Sir, " the lady said, " for your kyindness dear ; My carridge and my osses is probibbly come here. THE FOUNDLING OF SHOREDITCH 223 " Will you old this baby, please, vilst I step and see? " The Doctor was a famly man : " That I will," says he. Then the little child she kist, kist it very gently, Vich was sucking his little fist, sleeping innocently. With a sigh from her art, as though she would have bust It, Then she gave the Doctor the child — wery kind he nust it: Hup then the lady jumped hofF the bench she sat from. Tumbled down the carridge steps and ran along the platform. Vile hall the other passengers vent upon their vays, The Capting and the Doctor sat there in a maze; Some vent in a Homminibus, some vent in a Cabby, The Capting and the Doctor vaited vith the babby. There they sat looking queer, for an hour or more, But their feller passinger neather on 'em sore: Never, never back again did that lady come To that pooty sleeping Hinfnt a suckin of his Thum! What could this pore Doctor do, bein treated thus, When the darling Baby woke, cry in for its nuss? Off he drove to a female friend, vich she was both kind and mild. And igsplained to her the circumstance of this year little child. That kind lady took the child instantly in her lap. And made it very comfortable by giving it some pap; And when she took its close off, what d'you think she found? A couple of ten pun notes sewn up, in its little gownd ! 224 THE BALLADS OF POLICEMAN X Also in Its little close, was a note which did conwey, That this little baby's parents lived in a handsome way And for its Headucation they reglarly would pay, And sirtingly like gentlefolks would claim the child one day, If the Christian people who'd charge of it would say, Per adwertisement in The Times where the baby lay. Pity of this bayby many people took. It had such pooty ways and such a pooty look ; And there came a lady forrard (I wish that I could see Any kind lady as would do as much for me ; And I wish with all my art, some night in my night gownd, I could find a note stitched for ten or twenty pound) — There came a lady forrard, that most honorable did say, She'd adopt this little baby, which her parents cast away. While the Doctor pondered on this hoffer fair, Comes a letter from Devonshire, from a party there, Hordering the Doctor, at its Mar's desire, To send the little Infant back to Devonshire. Lost in apoplexity, this pore meddicle man, Like a sensable gentleman, to the Justice ran; Which his name was Mr. Hammill, a honorable beak. That takes his seat in Worship Street four times a week. Justice ! " says the Doctor, " Instrugt me what to do, I've come up from the country, to throw myself on you; IMy patients have no doctor to tend them in their ills, (There they are in Suffolk without their draffts and pills!) N / THE FOUXDLING OF SHOREDITCH 225 " I've come up from the country, to know how I'll dispose Of this pore little baby, and the twenty pun note, and the close, And I want to go back to Suffolk, dear Justice, if you please, And my patients wants their Doctor, and their Doctor wants his feez." Up spoke Mr. Hammill, sittin at his desk, " This year application does me much perplesk ; What I do adwise you, is to leave this babby In the Parish where it was left, by its mother shabby." The Doctor from his Worship sadly did depart — He might have left the baby, but he hadn't got the heart To go for to leave that Hinnocent, has the laws allows, To the tender mussies of the Union House. IMother, who left this little one on a stranger's knee. Think how cruel 3'ou have been, and how good was he! Think, if you've been guilty, innocent was she; And do not take unkindly this little word of me: Heaven be merciful to us all, sinners as we be ! THE ORGAN-BOY'S APPEAL "Westminster Police Court.— Policeman X brought a paper of doggerel verses to the Magistrate, which had been thrust into his hands, X said, by an Itahan boy, who ran away immediately afterwards. " The Magistrate, after perusing the lines, looked hard at X, and said he did not think they were written by an Itahan. " X, blushing, said he thought the paper read in Court last week, and which frightened so the old gentleman to whom it was addressed, was also not of Italian origin." O SiGNOR Broderip, vou are a wickid ole man, You wexis us little horgin boys whenever you can: How dare you talk of Justice, and go for to seek To pussicute us horgin-boys, you senguinary Beek? Though you set in Vestminster surrounded by your crushers, Harrogint and habsolute like the Hortacrat of hall the Rushers, Yet there is a better vurld I'd have you for to know. Likewise a place vere the henimies of horgin-boys will go. O you vickid Herod without any pity ! London vithout horgin-boys vood be a dismal city. Sweet Saint Cicily who first taught horgin-pipes to blow Soften the heart of this Magistrit that haggerywates us so ! Good Italian gentlemen, fatherly and kind. Brings us over to London here our horgins for to grind; Sends us out vith little vite mice and guinea-pigs also A popping of the Yeasel and a Jumpin of Jim Crow. 226 THE ORGAX-BOY'S APPEAL 227 And as us young horgin-bojs is grateful in our turn We gives to these kind gentlemen hall the money we earn, Because that they vood vop us as wery wel we know Unless we brought our burnings back to them as loves us so. O Mr. Broderip ! wery much I'm surprise, Ven you take your valks abroad where can be your eyes? If a Beak had a heart then you'd compryend Us pore little horgin-boys was the poor man's friend. Don't you see the shildren in the droring-rooms Clapping of their little ands when they ^^ear our toons? On their mothers' bussums don't you see the babbies crow And down to us dear horgin-boys lots of apence throw? Don't you see the ousemaids (pooty Follies and Maries), Ven ve bring our urdigurdis, smiling from the hairies? Then they come out vith a slice o' cole puddn or a bit o' bacon or so And give it us young horgin-boys for lunch afore Ave go. Have you ever seen the Hirish children sport When our velcome music-box brings sunshine in the Court? To these little paupers who can never pay Surely all good horgin-boys, for God's love, will play. Has for those proud gentlemen, like a serting B — k (Vich I von't be pussonal and therefore vil not speak). That flings their parler-vinders hup ven ve begin to play And cusses us and swears at us in such a wiolent way, Instedd of their abewsing and calling hout Poleece Let cm send out John to us vith sixpence or a shillin apiece. Then like good young horgin-boys avay from there we'll go, Blessing sweet Saixt Cicily that taught our pipes to blow. LITTLE BILLEE^ Air — " // y avail un petit 7iavire." There were three sailors of Bristol city Who took a boat and went to sea. But first with beef and captain's biscuits And pickled pork they loaded she. There was gorging Jack and guzzling Jimmy, And the youngest he was little Billee. Now when they got as far as the Equator They'd nothing left but one split pea. Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, " I am extremely hungaree." To gorging Jack says guzzling Jimmy, " We've nothing left, us must eat we." Says gorging Jack to guzzling Jimmy, " With one another we shouldn't agree ! There's little Bill, he's young and tender. We're old and tough, so let's eat he. " Oh ! Billy, we're going to kill and eat you. So undo the button of your chemie." When Bill received this information He used his pocket handkerchie. ' As different versions of this popular song have been set to music and sung, no apology is needed for the insertion in these pages of what is considered to be the correct version. 228 LITTLE BILLEE 229 " First let me say my catechism, Which my poor mamy taught to me." " j\Iake haste, make haste," says guzzhng Jimmy, While Jack pulled out his snickersnee. So Billy went up to the main-top gallant mast, And down he fell on his bended knee. He scarce had come to the twelfth commandment When up he jumps. "There's land I see: " Jerusalem and Madagascar, And North and South Amerikee: There's the British flag a riding at anchor, With Admiral Napier, K.C.B. ?> So when they got aboard of the Admiral's He hanged fat Jack and flogged Jimmee; But as for little Bill he made him The Captain of a Seventy-three. THE END OF THE PLAY The play is done; the curtain drops, Slow falling to the prompter's bell: A moment yet the actor stops, And looks around, to say farewell. It is an irksome word and task ; And, when he's laughed and said his say, He shows, as he removes the mask, A face that's anything but gay. One word, ere yet the evening ends. Let's close it with a parting rhyme. And pledge a hand to all young friends, As fits the merry Christmas time.^ On life's wide scene you, too, have parts, That Fate ere long shall bid you play ; Good night ! with honest gentle hearts A kindly greeting go alway! Good night!— I'd say, the griefs, the joys, Just hinted in this mimic page, The triumphs and defeats of boys. Are but repeated in our age. I'd say, your woes were not less keen, Your hopes more vain than those of men ; Your pangs or pleasures of fifteen At forty-five played o'er again. 1 These verses were printed at the end of a Christmas Book (1848-9), " Dr. Birch and his Young Friends." 230 THE EXD OF THE PLAY 231 I'd say, we suffer and we strive, Not less nor more as men than boys; With grizzled beards at forty-five, As erst at twelve in corduroys. And if, in time of sacred youth, We learned at home to love and pray, Pray Heaven that early Love and Truth May never wholly pass away. And in the world, as in the school, I'd say, how fate may change and shift; The prize be sometimes with the fool. The race not always to the swift. The strong may yield, the good may fall. The great man be a vulgar clown, The knave be lifted over all, The kind cast pitilessly down. Who knows the inscrutable design? Blessed be He who took and gave ! Why should your mother, Charles, not mine, Be weeping at her darling's grave? ^ We bow to Heaven that will'd it so. That darkly rules the fate of all, That sends the respite or the blow. That's free to give, or to recall. This crowns his feast with wine and wit: Who brought him to that mirth and state? His betters, see, below him sit. Or hunger hopeless at the gate. Who bade the mud from Dives' wheel To spurn the rags of Lazarus? Come, brother, in that dust we'll kneel. Confessing Heaven that ruled it thus. » C. B. ob. 29th November, lHi8, aet. 42. 232 THE END OF THE PLAY So each shall mourn, in life's advance, Dear hopes, dear friends, untimely killed; Shall grieve for many a forfeit chance, And longing passion unfulfilled. Amen ! whatever fate be sent, Pray God the heart may kindly glow, Although the head with cares be bent. And whitened with the winter snow. Come wealth or want, come good or ill. Let young and old accept their part, And bow before the Awful Will, And bear it with an honest heart, Who misses or who wins the prize. Go, lose or conquer as you can ; But if 3'OU fail, or if you rise. Bo each, pray God, a gentleman. A gentleman, or old or young! (Bear kindly with my humble lays); The sacred chorus first was sung Upon the first of Christmas da^^s: The shepherds heard it overhead — The joyful angels raised it then: | Glory to Heaven on high, it said, |i And peace on earth to gentle men. * My song, save this, is little worth; I lay the weary pen aside. And wish you health, and love, and mirth, As fits the solemn Christmas-tide. As fits the holy Christmas birth. Be this, good friends, our carol still — Be peace on earth, be peace on earth. To men of gentle will. VANITAS VANITATUM How spake of old the Royal Seer ? (His text is one I love to treat on.) This life of ours he said is sheer Mataiotes Mataioteton. O Student of this gilded Book, Declare, while musing on its pages, If truer words were ever spoke By ancient, or by modern sages? The various authors' names but note,^ French, Spanish, English, Russians, Germans: And in the volume polyglot. Sure you may read a hundred sermons! What histories of life are here. More wild than all romancers' stories ; What wondrous transformations queer, What homilies on human glories! What theme for sorrow or for scorn! What chronicle of Fate's surprises— Of adverse fortune nobly borne, Of chances, changes, ruins, rises! 1 Between a page by Jules Janin, and a poem by the Turkish Ambassador, in Madame de K 's albnn,, containinf,- the autographs "^ ,'^"'»^^' ^iX' ' poets, marshals, musicians, dii.lomatists. st^itesmen, artists, and men ot letters of all nations. 234 VANITAS VANITATUM Of thrones upset, and sceptres broke, How strange a record here is written! Of honours, dealt as if in joke; Of brave desert unkindly smitten. How low men were, and how they rise! How high they were, and how they tumble ! vanity of vanities ! laughable, pathetic jumble! Here between honest Janin's joke And his Turk Excellency's firman, 1 write my name upon the book : 1 write my name — and end my sermon. i O Vanity of vanities ! How wayward the decrees of Fate are; How very weak the very wise. How very small the very great are! What mean these stale moralities, Sir Preacher, from your desk you mumble? i Why rail against the great and wise, And tire us with your ceaseless grumble? Pray choose us out another text, O man morose and narrow-minded ! Come turn the page — I read the next, And then the next, and still I find it. Read here how Wealth aside was thrust, And Folly set in place exalted; How Princes footed in the dust. While lackeys in the saddle vaulted. VANITAS VANITATUM 235 Though thrice a thousand years are past, Since David's son, the sad and splendid, The weary King Ecclesiast, Upon his awful tablets penned it, — Methinks the text is never stale, And life is every day renewing Fresh comments on the old old tale Of Folly, Fortune, Glory, Ruin. Hark to the Preacher, preaching still He lifts his voice and cries his sermon, Here at St. Peter's on Cornhill, As yonder on the Mount of Hermon: For you and me to heart to take (0 dear beloved brother readers) To-day as when the good King spake Beneath the solemn Syrian cedars. a TALES MEN'S WIVES BY G. FITZ-BOODLE THE RAVENSWING CHAPTER I WHICH IS ENTIRELY INTRODUCTORY — CONTAINS AN ACCOUNT OF MISS CRUMP, HER SUITORS, AND HER FAMILY CIRCLE IN a certain quiet and sequestered nook of the retired village of London— perhaps in the neighbourhood of Berkeley Square, or at any rate somewhere near Bur- lington Gardens— there was once a house of entertain- ment called the " Bootjack Hotel." Mr. Crump, the landlord, had, in the outset of life, performed the duties of boots in some inn even more frequented than his own, and, far from being ashamed of his origin, as many per- sons are in the days of their prosperity, had thus sol- emnly recorded it over the hospitable gate of his hotel. Crump married Miss Budge, so well known to the admirers of the festive dance on the other side of the water as Miss Delancy; and they had one daughter, named Morgiana, after that celebrated i)art in the " Forty Thieves " which Miss Budge performed with unbounded applause both at the " Surrey " and " The Wells." Mrs. Crump sat in a little bar, profusely orna- mented with pictures of the dancers of all ages, from 239 240 MEN'S WIVES Hillisberg, Rose, Parisot, who plied the hght fantastic toe in 1805, down to the Sylphides of our day. There was in the collection a charming portrait of herself, done by De Wilde; she was in the dress of Morgiana, and in the act of pouring, to very slow music, a quantity of boiling oil into one of the forty jars. In this sanctuary she sat, with black eyes, black hair, a purple face and a turban, and morning, noon, or night, as you went into the parlour of the hotel, there was ]Mrs. Crump taking tea (with a little something in it), looking at the fash- ions, or reading Cumberland's " British Theatre." The Sunday Times was her paper, for she voted the Dispatch, that journal which is taken in by most ladies of her pro- fession, to be vulgar and Radical, and loved the theatri- cal gossip in which the other mentioned journal abounds. The fact is, that the " Royal Bootjack," though a humble, was a very genteel house; and a very little per- suasion would induce Mr. Crump, as he looked at his own door in the sun, to tell you that he had himself once drawn off with that very bootjack the top-boots of His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and the first gen- tleman in Europe. While, then, the houses of entertain- ment in the neighbourhood were loud in their pretended Liberal politics, the "Bootjack" stuck to the good old Conservative line, and was only frequented by such per- sons as were of that way of thinking. There were two parlours, much accustomed, one for the gentlemen of the shoulder-knot, who came from the houses of their employers hard by; another for some " gents who used the 'ouse," as Mrs. Crump would say (heaven bless her!) in her simple Cockniac dialect, and who formed a little club there. I forgot to say that while Mrs. C. was sipping her eter- THE RAVENSWING 241 nal tea or washing up her endless blue china, j^ou might often hear INIiss INIorgiana employed at the little red-silk cottage piano, singing, " Come where the haspens quiver," or " Bonny lad, march over hill and furrow," or " My art and lute," or any other popular piece of the day. And the dear girl sung with very considerable skill too, for she had a fine loud voice, which if not always in tune, made up for that defect by its great energy and activity; and JNIorgiana was not content with singing the mere tune, but gave every one of the roulades, flour- ishes, and ornaments as she heard them at the theatres by ]Mrs. Humby, JVIrs. Waylett, or Madame Vestris. The girl had a fine black eye like her mamma, a grand enthu- siasm for the stage, as every actor's child will have, and, if the truth must be known, had appeared many and many a time at the theatre in Catherine Street, in minor parts first, and then in Little Pickle, in Desdemona, in Rosina, and in Miss Foote's part where she used to dance: I have not the name to my hand, but think it is Davidson. Four times in the week, at least, her mother and she used to sail off at night to some place of public amusement, for Mrs. Crump had a mysterious acquaint- ance with all sorts of theatrical personages ; and the gates of her old haunt " The Wells," of the " Cobourg " (by the kind permission of Mrs. Davidge), nay, of the " Lane " and the " Market " themselves, flew open be- fore her " Open sesame," as the robbers' door did to her colleague, Ali Baba (Hornbuckle), in the operatic piece in which she was so famous. Beer was Mr. Crump's beverage, variegated by a little gin, in the evenings; and little need be said of this gentleman except tliat he discharged his duties lionour- ably, and filled the president's chair at the club as com- 242 MEN'S WIVES pletely as it could possibly be filled ; for he could not even sit in it in his great-coat, so accurately was the seat adapted to him. His wife and daughter, perhaps, thought somewhat slightingly of him, for he had no literary tastes, and had never been at a theatre since he took his bride from one. He was valet to Lord Slapper at the time, and certain it is that his lordship set him up in the " Bootjack," and that stories had been told. But what are such to you or me? Let bygones be bygones; Mrs. Crump was quite as honest as her neighbours, and Miss had 500/., to be paid down on the day of her wed- ding. Those who know the habits of the British tradesman are aware that he has gregarious propensities like any lord in the land; that he loves a joke, that he is not averse to a glass ; that after the day's toil he is happy to consort with men of his degree ; and that as society is not so far advanced among us as to allow him to enjoy the com- forts of splendid club-houses, which are open to many persons with not a tenth part of his pecuniary means, he meets his friends in the cosy tavern parlour, where a neat sanded floor, a large Windsor chair, and a glass of hot something and water, make him as happy as any of the clubmen in their magnificent saloons. At the " Bootjack " was, as we have said, a very gen- teel and select society, called the " Kidney Club," from the fact that on Saturday evenings a little graceful supper of broiled kidneys was usually discussed by the members of the club. Saturday was their grand night; not but that they met on all other nights in the week when inclined for festivity: and indeed some of them could not come on Saturdays in the summer, having ele- gant villas in the suburbs, where they passed the six-and- THE RAVENSWING 243 thirty hours of recreation that are happily to be found at the end of every week. There was jNlr. Balls, the great grocer of South Aud- ley Street, a warm man, who, they say, had his 20,000/. ; Jack Snaffle, of the mews hard by, a capital fellow for a song; Clinker, the ironmonger: all married gentlemen and in the best line of business ; Tressle, the undertaker, &c. No liveries w^ere admitted into the room, as may be imagined, but one or two select butlers and major-domos joined the circle; for the persons composing it knew very well how important it was to be on good terms with these gentlemen: and many a time my lord's account would never have been paid, and my lady's large order never have been given, but for the conversation which took place at the " Bootjack," and the friendly intercourse subsisting between all the members of the society. The tiptop men of the society were two bachelors, and two as fashionable tradesmen as any in the town: Mr. Woolsey, from Stultz's, of the famous house of Linsey, Woolsey and Co. of Conduit Street, Tailors; and ^Ir. Eglantine, the celebrated perruquier and perfumer of Bond Street, whose soaps, razors, and patent ventilating scalps are known throughout Europe. Linsey, the se- nior partner of the tailors' firm, had his handsome man- sion in Regent's Park, drove his buggy, and did little more than lend his name to the house. Woolsey lived in it, was the working man of the firm, and it was said that his cut was as magnificent as that of any man in the pro- fession. Woolsey and Eglantine were rivals in many ways,— rivals in fashion, rivals in wit, and, above all, rivals for the hand of an amia])lc young lady whom we have already mentioned, tlie dark-eyed songstress Mor- giana Crump. They were both desperately in love with 244 MEN'S WIVES her, that was the truth; and each, in the absence of the other, abused his rival heartily. Of the hair-dresser Woolsey said, that as for Eglantine being his real name, it was all his (Mr. Woolsey's) eye; that he was in the hands of the Jews, and his stock and grand shop eaten up by usury. And with regard to Woolsey, Eglantine remarked, that his pretence of being descended from the Cardinal was all nonsense; that he was a partner, cer- tainly, in the firm, but had only a sixteenth share; and that the firm could never get their moneys in, and had an immense number of bad debts in their books. As is usual, there was a great deal of truth and a great deal of malice in these tales ; however, the gentlemen were, take them all in all, in a very fashionable way of business, and had their claims to ^liss Morgiana's hand backed by the parents. Mr. Crump was a partisan of the tailor ; while Mrs. C. was a strong advocate for the claims of the enticing perfumer. * Now, it was a curious fact, that these two gentlemen were each in need of the other's services— Woolsey being afflicted with premature baldness, or some other necessity for a wig still more fatal— Eglantine being a very fat man, who required much art to make his figure at all decent. He wore a brown frock-coat and frogs, and attempted by all sorts of contrivances to hide his obesity ; but Woolsey's remark, that, dress as he would, he would always look like a snob, and that there was only one man in England who could make a gentleman of him, went to the perfumer's soul; and if there was one thing on earth he longed for (not including the hand of Miss Crump), it was to have a coat from Linsey's, in which costume he was sure that JNIorgiana would not resist him. THE RAVENSWING 245 If Eglantine was uneasy about the coat, on the other hand he attacked Woolsey atrociously on the score of his wig; for though the latter went to the best makers, he never could get a peruke to sit naturally upon him; and the unhappy epithet of Mr. Wiggins, applied to him on one occasion by the barber, stuck to him ever after in the club, and made him writhe when it was uttered. Each man would have quitted the " Kidneys " in disgust long since, but for the other,— for each had an attraction in the place, and dared not leave the field in possession of his rival. To do Miss Morgiana justice, it must be said, that she did not encourage one more than another; but as far as accepting eau-de-Cologne and hair-combs from the per- fumer,— some opera tickets, a treat to Greenwich, and a piece of real Genoa velvet for a bonnet (it had originally been intended for a waistcoat) , from the admiring tailor, she had been equally kind to each, and in return had made each a present of a lock of her beautiful glossy hair. It was all she had to give, poor girl! and what could she do but gratify her admirers by this cheap and artless testimony of her regard? A pretty scene and quarrel took place between the rivals on the day when they discovered that each was in possession of one of Morgiana's ringlets. Such, then, were the owners and inmates of the little " Bootjack," from whom and which, as this chapter is exceedingly discursive and descriptive, we must separate the reader for a while, and carry him— it is only into Bond Street, so no gentleman need be afraid— carry him into Bond Street, where some other personages are awaiting his consideration. Not far from Mr. Eglantine's shop in Bond Street, 246 MEN'S WIVES stand, as is very well known, the Windsor chambers. The West Diddlesex Association (Western Branch), the British and Foreign Soap Company, the celebrated attorneys Kite and Eevison, have their respective offices here; and as the names of the other inhabitants of the chambers are not only painted on the walls, but also reg- istered in Mrs. Boyle's " Court Guide," it is quite unne- cessary that they should be repeated here. Among them, on the entresol (between the splendid saloons of the Soap Company on the first floor, with their statue of Britannia presenting a packet of the soap to Europe, Asia, Africa, and America, and the West Diddlesex Western Branch on the basement) — Hves a gentleman by the name of Mr. Howard Walker. The brass plate on the door of that gentleman's chambers had the word " Agency "inscribed beneath his name; and w^e are therefore at liberty to imagine that he followed that mysterious occupation. In person Mr. Walker was very genteel; he had large whiskers, dark eyes (with a slight cast in them), a cane, and a velvet waistcoat. He was a member of a club ; had an admission to the opera, and knew every face behind the scenes; and was in the habit of using a number of French phrases in his conversation, having picked up a smattering of that language during a residence " on the Continent; " in fact, he had found it very convenient at various times of his life to dwell in the city of Boulogne, where he acquired a knowledge of smoking, ecarU, and bilHards, which was afterwards of great service to him. He knew all the best tables in town, and the marker at Hunt's could only give him ten. He had some fashion- able acquaintances too, and you might see him walking arm-in-arm with such gentlemen as my Lord Vauxhall, the Marquess of Billingsgate, or Captain BufF; and at THE RAVENSWING 247 the same time nodding to young INIoses, the dandy baihiF; or Loder, the gambhng-house keeper; or Amina- dab, the cigar-seller in the Quadrant. Sometimes he wore a pair of moustaches, and was called Captain Walker ; grounding his claim to that title upon the fact of having once held a commission in the service of her Majesty the Queen of Portugal. It scarcely need be said that he had been through the Insolvent Court many times. But to those who did not know his history in- timately there was some difficulty in identifying him with the individual who had so taken the benefit of the law, inasmuch as in his schedule his name appeared as Hooker Walker, wine-merchant, commission-agent, music-seller, or what not. The fact is, that though he preferred to call himself Howard, Hooker was his Chris- tian name, and it had been bestowed on him by his worthy old father, who was a clergyman, and had intended his son for that profession. But as the old gentleman died in York gaol, where he was a prisoner for debt, he was never able to put his pious intentions with regard to his son into execution ; and the young fellow ( as he was wont with many oaths to assert) was thrown on his own re- sources, and became a man of the world at a very early age. What Mr. Howard Walker's age was at the time of the commencement of this history, and, indeed, for an indefinite period before or afterwards, it is impossible to determine. If he were eight-and-twenty, as he as- serted himself. Time had dealt hardly with him : his hair was thin, there were many crows'-feet about his eyes, and other signs in his countenance of the progress of decay. If, on the contrary, he were forty, as Sam Snaffle declared, who himself had misfortunes in early 248 MEN'S WIVES life, and vowed he knew Mr. Walker in Whitecross Street Prison in 1820, he was a very young-looking j^erson considering his age. His figure was active and slim, his leg neat, and he had not in his whiskers a single white hair. It must, however, be owned that he used Mr. Eglan- tine's Regenerative Unction (which will make your whiskers as black as your boot), and, in fact, he was a pretty constant visitor at that gentleman's emporium; dealing with him largely for soaps and articles of per- fumery, which he had at an exceedingly low rate. In- deed, he was never known to pay Mr. Eglantine one single shilling for those objects of luxury, and, having them on such moderate terms, was enabled to indulge in them pretty copiously. Thus Mr. Walker was almost as great a nosegay as Mr. Eglantine himself: his hand- kerchief was scented with verbena, his hair with jessa- mine, and his coat had usually a fine perfume of cigars, which rendered his presence in a small room almost instantaneously remarkable. I have described ]Mr. Walker thus accurately because, in truth, it is more with characters than with astounding events that this little history deals, and Mr. Walker is one of the prin- cipal of our dramatis ijersonce. And so, having introduced Mr. W., we will walk over with him to Mr. Eglantine's emporium, where that gen- tleman is in waiting, too, to have his likeness taken. There is about an acre of plate glass under the royal arms on Mr. Eglantine's shop-window; and at night, when the gas is lighted, and the washballs are illumi- nated, and the lambent flame plays fitfully over number- less bottles of vari-coloured perfumes — now flashes on a case of razors, and now lightens up a crystal vase, con- THE RAVENSWING 249 taining a hundred thousand of his patent tooth-brushes— the effect of the sight may be imagined. You don't suppose that he is a creature who has those odious, sim- pering wax figures in his window, that are called by the vulgar dummies? He is above such a wretched artifice; and it is my belief that he would as soon have his own head chopped off, and placed as a trunkless decoration to his shop-window, as allow a dummy to figure there. On one pane you read in elegant gold letters " Eglan- tinia"— 'tis his essence for the handkerchief; on the other is written "Regenerative Unction "—'tis his in- valuable pomatum for the hair. There is no doubt about it: Eglantine's knowledge of his profession amounts to genius. He sells a cake of soap for seven shillings, for which another man would not get a shilling, and his tooth-brushes go off like wild- fire at half-a-guinea a-piece. If he has to administer rouge or pearl-powder to ladies, he does it with a mystery and fascination which there is no resisting, and the ladies believe there are no cosmetics like his. He gives his wares unheard-of names, and obtains for them sums equally prodigious. He can dress hair— that is a f act- as few men in this age can ; and has been known to take twenty pounds in a single night from as many of the first ladies of England when ringlets were in fashion. The introduction of bands, he says, made a difference of 2,000/. a year in his income; and if there is one thing in the world he hates and despises, it is a Madonna. "I'm not," says he, " a tradesman — I'm a h artist " (Mr. Eg- lantine was ])orn in liOtidon) — " I'm a hartist; and show me a fine 'ead of 'air, and I'll dress it for nothink." lie vows that it was his way of dressing Mademoiselle Son- tag's hair, that caused the count her husband to fall in 250 MEN'S WIVES love with her; and he has a lock of it in a brooch, and says it was the finest head he ever saw, except one, and that was Morgiana Crump's. With his genius and his position in the profession, how comes it, then, that Mr. Eglantine was not a man of fortune, as many a less clever has been? If the truth must be told, he loved pleasure, and was in the hands of the Jews. He had been in business twenty years : he had borrowed a thousand pounds to purchase his stock and shop; and he calculated that he had paid upwards of twenty thousand pounds for the use of the one thousand, which was still as much due as on the first day when he entered business. He could show that he had received a thousand dozen of champagne from the disinterested money-dealers with whom he usually negotiated his paper. He had pictures all over his " studios," which had been purchased in the same bargains. If he sold his goods at an enormous price, he paid for them at a rate almost equally exorbitant. There was not an article in his shop but came to him through his Israelite providers ; and in the very front shop itself sat a gentleman who was the nominee of one of them, and who was called Mr. IMossrose. He was there to superintend the cash ac- count, and to see that certain instalments were paid to his principals, according to certain agreements entered into between Mr. Eglantine and them. Having that sort of opinion of JNIr. IMossrose which Damocles may have had of the sword which hung over his head, of course Mr. Eglantine hated his foreman profoundly. " He an artist," would the former gentle- man exclaim; " why, he's only a disguised bailiff*! Moss- rose indeed! The chap's name's Amos, and he sold THE RAVENSWING 251 oranges before he came here." Mr. ^lossrose, on his side, utterly despised JSIr. Eglantine, and looked forward to the day when he would become the proprietor of the shop, and take Eglantine for a foreman; and then it would be his turn to sneer and bully, and ride the high horse. Thus it will be seen that there was a skeleton in the great perfumer's house, as the saying is: a worm in his heart's core, and though to all appearance prosperous, he was really in an awkward position. What JNIr. Eglantine's relations were with Mr. Walker may be imagined from the following dialogue which took place between the two gentlemen at five o'clock one summer's afternoon, when ^Ir. Walker, issuing from his chambers, came across to the perfumer's shop : — " Is Eglantine at home, Mr. INIossrose? " said Walker to the foreman, who sat in the front shop. "Don't know— go and look" (meaning go and be hanged) ; for Mossrose also hated ]\Ir. Walker. " If you're uncivil I'll break your bones, JNIr. Ajuos/' says Mr. Walker, sternly. " I should like to see you try, Mr. Hooker Walker," replies the undaunted shopman; on which the captain, looking several tremendous canings at him, walked into the back room or " studio." " How are you. Tiny my buck? " says the Captain. " Much doing? " " Not a soul in town. I 'aven't touched the hirons all day," replied Mr. Eglantine, in rather a desponding way. " Well, just get them ready now, and give my 252 MEN'S WIVES whiskers a turn. I'm going to dine with Bilhngsgate and some out-and-out fellows at the ' Regent,' and so, my lad, just do your best." " I can't," says Mr. Eglantine. " I expect ladies, captain, every minute." "Very good; I don't want to trouble such a great man, I'm sure. Good-by, and let me hear from you this day week, Mr. Eglantine." " This daj;- week " meant that at seven days from that time a certain bill accepted by IMr. Eglantine would be due, and presented for payment. " Don't be in such a hurry. Captain— do sit down. I'll curl you in one minute. And, I say, won't the party re- new? " " Impossible — it's the third renewal." " But I'll make the thing handsome to you;— indeed I will." " How much? " " Will ten pounds do the business? " "What! offer my principal ten pounds? Are you mad. Eglantine? — A little more of the iron to the left whisker." " No, I meant for commission." " Well, I'll see if that will do. The party I deal with. Eglantine, has power, I know, and can defer the matter no doubt. As for me, you know, Fve nothing to do in the affair, and only act as a friend between you and him. I give you my honour and soul, I do." " I know you do, my dear sir." The two last speeches were lies. The perfumer knew perfectly well that Mr. Walker would pocket the 10/.; but he was too easy to care for paying it, and too timid to quarrel w^ith such a powerful friend. And he had on three different occa- THE RAVENSWING 253 sions already paid 10/. fine for the renewal of the bill in question, all of which bonuses he knew went to his friend, jNIr. AValker. Here, too, the reader will perceive what was, in part, the meaning of the word " agency " on INIr. Walker's door. He was a go-between between money-lenders and borrowers in this world, and certain small sums always remained with him in the course of the transaction. He was an agent for wine, too; an agent for places to be had through the influence of great men; he was an agent for half-a-dozen theatrical people, male and female, and had the interests of the latter especiallj^ it was said, at heart. Such were a few of the means by which this worthy gentleman contrived to support himself, and if, as he was fond of high living, gambling, and pleasures of all kinds, his revenue was not large enough for his expenditure — why, he got into debt, and settled his bills that way. He was as much at home in the Fleet as in Pall iNIall, and quite as happy in the one place as in the other. " That's the way I take things," would this j^hi- losopher say. "If I've money, I spend; if I've credit, I borrow; if I'm dunned, I whitewash; and so you can't beat me down." Happy elasticity of temperament! I do believe that in spite of his misfortunes and precarious position, there was no man in England whose conscience was more calm, and whose slumbers were more tranquil than those of Captain Howard Walker. As he was sitting under the hands of Mr. Eglantine, he reverted to " the ladies," whom the latter gentleman professed to expect; said he was a sly dog, a lucky ditto, and asked him if the ladies were handsome. Eglantine thought there could be no harm in telling a bouncer to a gentleman with whom he was engaged 254 MEN'S WIVES in money transactions; and so, to give the captain an idea of his solvency and the brilhancy of his future pros- pects, " Captain," said he, " I've got a hundred and eighty pounds out with you, which you were obhging enough to negotiate for me. Have I, or have I not, two bills out to that amount? " " Well, my good fellow, you certainly have; and what then?" "What then? Why, I bet you five pounds to one, that in three months those bills are paid." " Done! five pounds to one. I take it." This sudden closing with him made the perfumer rather uneasy; but he was not to pay for three months, and so he said " Done! " too, and went on: " What would you say if your bills were paid? " "Not mine; Pike's." "Well, if Pike's were paid; and the Minories' man paid, and every single liability I have cleared off; and that Mossrose flung out of winder, and me and my em- porium as free as hair? " " You don't say so? Is Queen Anne dead? and has she left you a fortune? or what's the luck in the wind now? " It's better than Queen Anne, or anybody dying. What should you say to seeing in that very place where Mossrose now sits (hang him!) — seeing the finest head of 'air now in Europe? A woman, I tell you — a slap-up lovely woman, who, I'm proud to say, will soon be called Mrs. Heglantine, and will bring me five thousand pounds to her fortune." " Well, Tiny, this is good luck indeed. I say, you'll be able to do a bill or two for me then, hay? You won't forget an old friend? " THE RAVEN SWING 255 " That I won't. I shall have a place at my board for you, capting ; and many's the time I shall 'ope to see you under that ma'ogany." " What will the French milliner say? She'll hang her- self for despair, Eglantine." " Hush! not a word about 'er. I've sown all my wild oats, I tell 3'ou. Eglantine is no longer the gay young bachelor, but the sober married man. I want a heart to share the feelings of mine. I want repose. I'm not so young as I was, I feel it." " Pooh! pooh! you are — you are — " " Well, but I sigh for an 'appy fireside; and I'll have it. " And give up that club which you belong to, hay? " "'The Kidneys?' Oh! of course, no married man should belong to such places: at least, I'W not; and I'll have my kidneys broiled at home. But be quiet, cap- tain, if you please; the ladies appointed to — " " And is it the lady you expect? eh, you rogue! " " Well, get along. It's her and her Ma." But Mr. Walker determined he wouldn't get along, and would see these lovely ladies before he stirred. The operation on Mr. Walker's whiskers being con- cluded, he was arranging his toilet before the glass in an agreeable attitude : his neck out, his enormous pin settled in his stock to his satisfaction, his eyes complacently directed towards the reflection of his left and favourite whisker. Eglantine was laid on a settee, in an easy, though melancholy posture; he was twiddling the tongs with which he had just operated on Walker with one hand, and his right-hand ringlet with the other, and he was thinking — thinking of Morgiana; and then of the bill which was to become due on the 16th; and then of 256 MEN'S WIVES a light blue velvet waistcoat with gold sprigs, in which he looked very killing, and so was trudging round in his little circle of loves, fears, and vanities. "Hang it!" Mr. Walker was thinking, " I am a handsome man. A pair of whiskers like mine are not met with every day. If anybody can see that my tuft is dyed, may I be — " When the door was flung open, and a large lady with a curl on her forehead, yellow shawl, a green-velvet bonnet with feathers, half -boots, and a drab gown with tulips and other large exotics painted on it — when, in a word, INIrs. Crump and her daughter bounced into the room. " Here we are, ]Mr. E.," cries Mrs. Crump, in a gay, foldtre, confidential air. "But law! there's a gent in the room! " " Don't mind me, ladies," said the gent alluded to, with his fascinating wa3^ " I'm a friend of Eglantine's; ain't I, Egg? a chip of the old block, hay? " '' That you are," said the perfumer, starting up. " An 'air-dresser? " asked Mrs. Crump. " Well, I thought he was; there's something, Mr. E., in gentlemen of your profession so exceeding, so uncommon dis- tangy." " Madam, you do me proud," replied the gentleman so complimented, with great presence of mind. " Will you allow me to try my skill upon you, or upon Miss, your lovely daughter? I'm not so clever as Eglantine, but no bad hand, I assure you." " Nonsense, Captain," interrupted the perfumer, who was uncomfortable somehow at the rencontre between the Captain and the object of his affection. "He's not in the profession, Mrs. C. This is my friend Captain Walker, and proud I am to call him my friend." And THE RAVENSWING 257 then aside to Mrs. C, " One of the first swells on town, ma'am — a regular tip-topper." Humouring the mistake which Mrs. Crump had just made, JNIr. Walker thrust the curling-irons into the fire in a minute, and looked round at the ladies with such a fascinating grace, that both, now made acquainted with his quality, blushed and giggled, and were quite pleased. Mamma looked at 'Gina, and 'Gina looked at mamma; and then mamma gave 'Gina a little blow in the region of her little waist, and then both burst out laughing, as ladies will laugh, and as, let us trust, they may laugh for ever and ever. Why need there be a reason for laugh- ing? Let us laugh when we are laughy, as we sleep when we are sleepy. And so JNIrs. Crump and her demoi- selle laughed to their hearts' content; and both fixed their large shining black eyes repeatedly on Mr. Walker. " I won't leave the room," said he, coming forward with the heated iron in his hand, and smoothing it on the brown paper with all the dexterity of a professor (for the fact is, Mr. W. every morning curled his own im- mense whiskers with the greatest skill and care) —"I won't leave the room. Eglantine my boy. My lady here took me for a hairdresser, and so, you know, I've a right to stay." " He can't stay," said Mrs. Crump, all of a sudden, blushing as red as a peony. " I shall have on my peignoir, mamma," said INIiss, looking at tlie gentleman, and then dropping down her eyes and blushing too. " But he can't stay, 'Gina, I tell you: do you think that I would, before a gentleman, take off my — " " Mamma means her front! " said Miss, jumping u]), and beginning to laugh with all her might; at which the 258 MEN'S WIVES honest landlady of the " Bootjack," who loved a joke, although at her own expense, laughed too, and said that no one, except Mr. Crump and Mr. Eglantine, had ever seen her without the ornament in question. " Do go now, you provoking thing, you ! " continued Miss C. to Mr. Walker; " I wish to hear the hoverture, and it's six o'clock now, and we shall never be done against tlien: " but the way in which Morgiana said ''^do go," clearly indicated " don't " to the perspicuous mind of Mr. Walker. " Perhaps you 'ad better go," continued Mr. Eglan- tine, joining in this sentiment, and being, in truth, some- what uneasy at the admiration which his " swell friend " excited. " I'll see you hanged first, Eggy my boy ! Go I won't, until these ladies have had their hair dressed : didn't you yourself tell me that Miss Crump's was the most beau- tiful hair in Europe? And do you think that I'll go away without seeing it? No, here I stay." " You naughty, wicked, odious, provoking man! " said Miss Crump. But, at the same time, she took off her bonnet, and placed it on one of the side candlesticks of Mr. Eglantine's glass (it was a black-velvet bonnet, trimmed with sham lace, and with a wreath of nastur- tiums, convolvuluses, and wallflowers within) ; and then said, " Give me the peignoir, Mr. Archibald, if you please ; " and Eglantine, who would do anything for her when she called him Archibald, immediately produced that garment, and wrapped round the delicate shoulders of the lady, who removing a sham gold chain which she w^ore on her forehead, two brass hair-combs set with glass rubies, and the comb which kept her back hair together, — removing them, I say, and turning her great eyes THE RAVENSWING 259 towards the stranger, and giving her head a shake, down let tumble such a flood of shining, waving, heavy, glossy, jetty hair, as would have done INIr. Rowland's heart good to see. It tumbled down Miss Morgiana's back, and it tumbled over her shoulders, it tumbled over the chair on which she sat, and from the midst of it her jolly, bright- eyed, rosy face beamed out with a triumphant smile, which said, " A'n't I now the most angehc being you ever saw? " " By heaven ! it's the most beautiful thing I ever saw! " cried iNIr. Walker, with undisguised admiration. " Isnt it? " said Mrs. Crump, who made her daugh- ter's triumph her own. " Heigho! when I acted at ' The Wells ' in 1820, before that dear girl was born, I had such a head of hair as that, to a shade, sir, to a shade. They called me Ravenswing on account of it. I lost my • head of hair when that dear child was born, and I often say to her, ' INIorgiana, you came into the world to rob your mother of her 'air.' Were you ever at ' The Wells,' sir, in 1820? Perhaps you recollect Miss Delancy? I am that Miss Delancy. Perhaps you recollect,— " ' Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, By the light of the star, On the blue river's brink, I heard a guitar. a ( I heard a guitar, On the blue waters clear, And I knew by its mu-u-sic. That Selim was near ! ' You remember that in the Bagdad BelW: Fatima, Delancy; Selim, Benlomond (his real name was Bun- 260 MEN'S WIVES nion : and he failed, poor fellow, in the public line after- wards) . It was done to the tambourine, and dancing between each verse,— " ' Tink-a-tink, tink-a-tink, How the soft music swells, And I hear the soft clink Of the minaret bells ! " ' Tink-a— ' " " Oh! " here cried Miss Crump, as if in exceeding pain (and whether Mr. Eglantine had twitched, pulled, or hurt any one individual hair of that lovely head I don't know) ,— " Oh, you are killing me, Mr. Eglantine! " And with this mamma, who was in her attitude, hold- ing up the end of her boa as a visionary tambourine, and Mr. Walker, who was looking at her, and in his amuse- ment at the mother's performances had almost forgotten the charms of the daughter,— both turned round at once, and looked at her with many expressions of sympathy, while Eglantine, in a voice of reproach, said "Killed you, Morgiana! I kill you?'* " I'm better now," said the young lady, with a smile,— " I'm better, Mr. Archibald, now." And if the truth must be told, no greater coquette than Miss JNIorgiana existed in all May fair,— no, not among the most fash- ionable mistresses of the fashionable valets who fre- quented the " Bootjack." She beheved herself to be the most fascinating creature that the world ever produced ; she never saw a stranger but she tried these fascinations upon him; and her charms of manner and person were of that showy sort which is most popular in this world, where people are wont to admire most that which gives THE RAVENSWING 261 them the least trouble to see; and so you will find a tulip of a woman to be in fashion when a little humble violet or daisy of creation is passed over without remark. ]SIor- giana was a tulip among women, and the tulip-fanciers all came flocking round her. Well, the said "Oh!" and "I'm better now, Mr. Archibald," thereby succeeded in drawing everybody's attention to her lovely self. By the latter words Mv. Eglantine was specially inflamed; he glanced at jNIr. Walker, and said, " Capting! didn't I teU you she was a creecher? See her hair, sir: it's as black and as glossy as satting. It weighs fifteen pound, that hair, sir; and I wouldn't let my apprentice— that blundering INIoss- rose, for instance (hang him!) —I wouldn't let any one but myself dress that hair for five hundred guineas! Ah, Miss JVIorgiana, remember that you 7}iay always have Eglantine to dress your hair!— remember that, that's all." And with this the worthy gentleman began rub- bing delicately a little of the Eglantinia into those am- brosial locks, which he loved with all the love of a man and an artist. And as for Morgiana showing her hair, I hope none of my readers will entertain a bad opinion of the poor girl for doing so. Her locks were her pride; she acted at the private theatre "hair parts," where she could appear on purpose to show them in a dishevelled state; and that her modesty was real and not aff'ected may be proved by the fact that when INIr. Walker, stepping up in the midst of Eglantine's last speech, took hold of a lock of her hair very gently with liis hand, she cried " Oh! " and started with all her might. And Mr. Eg- lantine observed very gravely, "Ca])ting! JNliss Crump's hair is to be seen and not to ])e touched, if yon ])lease." 262 MEN'S WIVES "No more it is, Mr. Eglantine," said her mamma; " and now, as it's come to my turn, I beg the gentleman will be so obliging as to go." " Must I? " cried Mr. Walker ; and as it was half -past six, and he was engaged to dinner at the " Regent Club," and as he did not wish to make Eglantine jeal- ous, who evidently was annoyed by his staying, he took his. hat just as Miss Crump's coiffure was completed, and saluting her and her mamma, left the room. " A tip-top swell, I can assure you," said Eglantine, nodding after him: "a regular bang-up chap, and no mistake. Intimate with the Marquess of Billingsgate, and Lord Vauxhall, and that set," " He's very genteel," said Mrs. Crump. "Law! I'm sure I think nothing of him," said Mor- giana. And Captain Walker walked towards his club, medi- tating on the beauties of Morgiana. " What hair," said he, " what eyes the girl has! they're as big as billiard- balls; and 5,000/. Eglantine's in luck! 5,000/.— she can't have it, it's impossible ! " No sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, during the time of which operation Morgiana sat in perfect contentment looking at the last French fashions in the Courrier des Dames, and thinking how her pink satin slip would dye, and make just such a mantilla as that represented in the engraving, — no sooner was Mrs. Crump's front arranged, than both ladies, taking leave of Mr. Eglantine, tripped back to the " Bootjack Ho- tel " in the neighbourhood, where a very neat green fly was already in waiting, the gentleman on the box of which (from a livery-stable in the neighbourhood) gave THE RAVENSWING 263 a knowing touch to his hat, and a salute with his whip, to the two ladies, as they entered the tavern. " ]Mr. W.'s inside," said the man— a driver from Mr. Snaffle's establishment; " he's been in and out this score of times, and looking down the street for you." And in the house, in fact, was JNIr. Woolsey, the tailor, who had hired the fly, and was engaged to conduct the ladies that evening to the play. It was really rather too bad to think that Miss Mor- giana, after going to one lover to have her hair dressed, should go with another to the play; but such is the way with lovely woman! Let her have a dozen admirers, and the dear coquette will exercise her power upon them all : and as a lady, when she has a large wardrobe, and a taste for variety in dress, will apj^ear every day in a dif- ferent costume, so will the young and giddy beauty wear her lovers, encouraging now the black whiskers, now smiling on the brov/n, now thinking that the gay smiling rattle of an admirer becomes her very well, and now adopting the sad sentimental melancholy one, according as her changeful fancy prompts her. Let us not be too angry with these uncertainties and caprices of beauty; and depend on it that, for the most part, those females who cry out loudest against the flightiness of their sis- ters, and rebuke their undue encouragement of this man or that, would do as much themselves if they had the chance, and are constant, as I am to my coat just now, because I have no other. "Did you see Doublej^ou, 'Gina dear?" said her mamma, addressing that young lady. " He's in the bar with your Pa, and has his military coat with the king's buttons, and looks like an officer." This was Mr. Woolsey's style, his great aim being to 264 MEN'S WIVES look like an army gent, for many of whom he in his capacity of tailor made those splendid red and blue coats which characterize our military. As for the royal but- ton, had not he made a set of coats for his late Majesty, George IV.? and he would add, when he narrated this circumstance, " Sir, Prince Blucher and Prince Swartz- enberg's measure's in the house now; and what's more, I've cut for Wellington." I believe he would have gone to St. Helena to make a coat for Napoleon, so great was his ardour. He wore a blue black wig, and his whiskers were of the same hue. He was brief and stern in con- versation ; and he alw^ays went to masquerades and balls in a field-marshal's uniform. " He looks really quite the thing to-night," continued Mrs. Crump. " Yes," said 'Gina; " but he's such an odious wig, and the dye of his whiskers always comes oiF on his white gloves." " Everybody has not their own hair, love," continued Mrs. Crump with a sigh; " but Eglantine's is beautiful." "Every hairdresser's is," answered Morgiana, rather contemptuously; "but what I can't bear is that their fingers is always so very fat and pudgy." In fact, something had gone wrong with the fair Mor- giana. Was it that she had but little liking for the one pretender or the other? Was it that young Glauber, who acted Romeo in the private theatricals, was far younger and more agreeable than either? Or was it, that seeing a 7'eal gentleman, such as ]Mr. Walker, with whom she had had her first interview, she felt more and more the want of refinement in her other declared ad- mirers? Certain, however, it is, that she was very reserved all the evening, in spite of the attentions of THE RAVENSWING 265 ]Mr. Woolsey; that she repeatedly looked round at the box-door, as if she expected some one to enter ; and that she partook of only a very few oysters, indeed, out of the barrel which the gallant tailor had sent down to the " Bootjack," and off which the party supped. " What is it? " said Mr. Woolsey to his ally. Crump, as they sat together after the retirement of the ladies. " She was dumb all night. She never once laughed at the farce, nor cried at the tragedy, and you know she laughs and cries uncommon. She only took half her negus, and not above a quarter of her beer." " No more she did! " replied Mr. Crump, very calmly. " I think it must be the barber as has been captivating her: he dressed her hair for the play." " Hang him, I'll shoot him! " said Mr. Woolsey. " A fat, foolish, effeminate beast like that marry Miss Mor- giana? Never! I will shoot him. I'll provoke him next Saturday— I'll tread on his toe— I'll pull his nose! " "No quarrelling at the 'Kidneys!'" answered Crump sternly; "there shall be no quarrelling in that room as long as rm in the chair! " " Well, at any rate you'll stand my friend? " " You know I will," answered the other. " You are honourable, and I like you better than Eglantine. I trust you more than Eglantine, sir. You're more of a man that Eglantine, though you arc a tailor; and I wish with all my heart you may get :Morgiana. Mrs. C. goes the other way, I know : but I tell you what, women will go their own ways, sir, and Morgy's like her mother in this point, and depend upon it, Morgy will decide for herself." Mr. Woolsey presently went home, still persisting in his plan for the assassination of Eglantine. Mr. Crump 266 MEN'S WIVES went to bed very quietly, and snored through the night in his usual tone. Mr. Eglantine passed some feverish moments of jealousy, for he had come down to the club in the evening, and had heard that Morgiana was gone to the play with his rival. And ]Miss Morgiana dreamed of a man who was— must we say it?— exceedingly like Captain Howard Walker. " Mrs. Captain So-and-so! " thought she. " Oh, I do love a gentleman dearly! " And about this time, too, Mr. Walker himself came rolling home from the " Regent," hiccupping, " Such hair!— such eyebrows!— such eyes! hke b-b-billiard-balls, by Jove!" CHAPTER II IN WHICH MR. WALKER MAKES THREE ATTEMPTS TO ASCERTAIN THE DWELLING OF MORGIANA THE day after the dinner at the " Regent Club," JNIr. Walker stepped over to the shop of his friend the perfumer, where, as usual, the young man, Mr. Mossrose, was established in the front premises. For some reason or other, the Captain was particu- larly good-humoured ; and, quite forgetful of the words which had passed between him and Mr. Eglantine's lieu- tenant the day before, began addressing the latter with extreme cordiality. " A good morning to you, Mr. Mossrose," said Caj)- tain Walker. " Why, sir, you look as fresh as your namesake, — you do, indeed, now, Mossrose." " You look ash yellow ash a guinea," responded Mr. JNIossrose, sulkily. He thought the Captain was hoax- ing him. THE RAVENSWING 267 " My good sir," replies the other, nothing cast down, " I drank rather too freety last night." " The more beast you! " said Mr. Mossrose. " Thank you, JMossrose; the same to you," answered the Captain. " If you call me a beast I'll punch your head off! " answered the young man, who had much skill in the art which many of his brethren practise. " I didn't, my fine fellow," replied Walker. '' On the contrary, you—" " Do you mean to give me the lie? " broke out the in- dignant JMossrose, who hated the agent fiercely, and did not in the least care to conceal his hate. In fact, it was his fixed purpose to pick a quarrel with Walker, and to drive him, if possible, from Mr. Eglan- tine's shop. " Do you mean to give me the lie, I say, Mr. Hooker Walker? " ''For heaven's sake, Amos, hold your tongue!" ex- claimed the Captain, to whom the name of Hooker was as poison; but at this moment a customer stepping in, Mr. Amos exchanged his ferocious aspect for a bland grin, and Mr. Walker walked into the studio. When in IMr. Eglantine's presence, Walker, too, was all smiles in a minute, sunk down on a settee, held out his liand to the perfumer, and began confidentially dis- coursing with him. " Such a dinner, Tiny my boy," said he; " such prime fellows to eat it, too! Billingsgate, Vauxhall, Cinqbars, Bufi of the Blues, and half-a-dozen more of the best fellows in town. And what do you think the dinner cost a head? I'll wager you'll never guess." " Was it two guineas a head?— In course I mean with- out wine," said the genteel perfumer. 268 MEN'S WIVES " Guess again ! " " Well, was it ten guineas a head? I'll guess any sum you please," replied Mr. Eglantine: " for I know that when you nohs are together, you don't spare your money. I myself, at the ' Star and Garter ' at Rich- mond, once paid—" " Eighteenpence? " " Heighteenj)ence, sir I— I paid five-and-thirty shil- lings per 'ead. I'd have you to know that I can act as a gentleman as well as any other gentleman, sir," an- swered the perfumer with much dignity. " Well, eighteenpence was what we paid, and not a rap more upon my honour." " Nonsense, you're joking. The Marquess of Bil- hnsgate dine for eighteenpence? Why, hang it, if I was a marquess, I'd pay a five-pound note for my lunch." " You little know the person. Master Eglantine," replied the Captain, with a smile of contemptuous supe- riority; "you Httle know the real man of fashion, my good fellow. Simplicity, sir,— simplicity's the charac- teristic of the real gentleman, and so I'll tell you what we had for dinner." " Turtle and venison, of course:— no nob dines with- out them." "Psha! we're sick of 'em! We had pea-soup and boiled tripe! What do you think of that? We had sprats and herrings, a bullock's heart, a baked shoulder of mutton and potatoes, pig's-fry and Irish stew. I ordered the dinner, sir, and got more credit for invent- ing it than they ever gave to Ude or Soyer. The Mar- quess was in ecstasies, the Earl devoured half a bushel of sprats, and if the Viscount is not laid up with a sur- THE RAVENSWING 269 feit of bullock's heart, my name's not Howard Walker. Billy, as I call him, was in the chair, and gave my health; and what do you think the rascal proposed? " " What did his lordship propose? " " That every man present should subscribe twopence, and pay for my share of the dinner. By Jove ! it is true, and the money was handed to me in a pewter-pot, of which the}' also begged to make me a present. We afterwards went to Tom Spring's, from Tom's to the ' Finish,' from the ' Finish ' to the watch-house— that is, they did,— and sent for me, just as I was getting into bed, to bail them all out." " They're happy dogs, those young noblemen," said Mr. Eglantine; "nothing but pleasure from morning till night; no affectation neither,— no hotiire; but manly, downright, straightforward good fellows." " Should you like to meet them, Tiny my boy? " said the Captain. " If I did, sir, I hope I should show myself to be the gentleman," answered Mr. Eglantine. " Well, you shall meet them, and Lady Billingsgate shall order her perfumes at your shop. We are going to dine, next week, all our set, at mealy-faced Bob's, and you shall be my guest," cried the Captain, slapping the delighted artist on the back. " And now, my boy, tell me how you spent the evening." " At my club, sir," answered Mr. Eglantine, blushing rather. "What! not at the play with the lovely black-eyed Miss— what is her name. Eglantine? " " Never mind her name. Captain," replied Eglantine, partly from j)rudence and partly from shame. Pie had not the heart to own it was Crump, and he did not care 270 MEN'S WIVES that the Captain should know more of his destined bride. " You wish to keep the five thousand to yourself —eh, 3'ou rogue?" responded the Captain, with a good-hu- moured air, although exceedingly mortified; for, to say the truth, he had put himself to the trouble of telling the above long story of the dinner, and of promising to introduce Eglantine to the lords, solely that he might elicit from that gentleman's good-humour some further particulars regarding the young lady with the billiard- l3all eyes. It was for the very same reason, too, that he had made the attempt at reconciliation with Mr. ISIoss- rose which had just so signally failed. Nor would the reader, did he know Mr. W. better, at all require to have the above explanation; but as yet we are only at the first chapter of his history, and who is to know what the hero's motives can be unless we take the trouble to explain? Well, the little dignified answer of the worthy dealer in bergamot, " Never mind her name. Captain! " threw the gallant Captain quite aback; and though he sat for a quarter of an hour longer, and was exceedingly kind; and though he threw out some skilful hints, yet the per- fumer was quite unconquerable; or, rather, he was too frightened to tell: the poor, fat, timid, easy, good-na- tured gentleman was always the prey of rogues,— panting and floundering in one rascal's snare or an- other's. He had the dissimulation, too, which timid men have ; and felt the presence of a victimiser as a hare does of a greyhound. Now he would be quite still, now he would double, and now he would run, and then came the end. He knew, by his sure instinct of fear, that the Cap- tain had, in asking these questions, a scheme against him, and so he was cautious, and trembled, and doubted. THE RAVENSWING 271 And oh! how he thanked his stars when Lady Grog- more's chariot drove up, with the IVIisses Grogmore, who wanted their hair dressed, and were going to a break- fast at three o'clock ! " I'll look in again, Tiny," said the Captain, on hear- ing the summons. " Bo, Captain," replied the other: "" thank you; " and went into the lady's studio with a heavy heart. " Get out of the way, you infernal villain! " roared the Captain, with many oaths, to Lady Grogmore's large footman, with ruby-coloured tights, who was standing inhaling the ten thousand perfumes of the shop; and the latter, moving away in great terror, the gallant agent passed out, quite heedless of the grin of Mr. Mossrose. Walker was in a fury at his want of success, and walked down Bond Street in a fury. " I will know where the girl lives!" swore he. "I'll spend a five- pound note, by Jove! rather than not know where she lives!" '' Thai you would— I know you would! " said a little grave low voice, all of a sudden, by his side. " Pooh! what's money to you? " Walker looked down; it was Tom Dale. Who in London did not know little Tom Dale? He had cheeks like an apple, and his hair curled every morn- ing, and a little blue stock, and always two new maga- zines under his arm, and an umbrella and a little brown frock-coat, and big square-toed shoes with which he went papping down the street. He was everywhere at once. Everybody met him every day, and he knew everything that everybody ever did; though nobody ever knew what he did. He was, they say, a hundred years old, and had 272 MEN'S WIVES never dined at his own charge once in those hundred years. He looked hke a figure out of a wax-work, with glassy, clear, meaningless eyes: he always spoke with a grin; he knew what you had for dinner the day before he met you, and what everybody had had for dinner for a century back almost. He was the receptacle of all the scandal of all the world, from Bond Street to Bread Street; he knew all the authors, all the actors, all the " notorieties " of the town, and the private histories of each. That is, he never knew anything really, but sup- plied deficiencies of truth and memory, with ready- coined, never-failing lies. He was the most benevolent man in the universe, and never saw you without telling you everything most cruel of your neighbour, and when he left you he went to do the same kind turn by yourself. "Pooh! what's money to you, my dear boy?" said little Tom Dale, who had just come out of Ebers's, where he had been filching an opera-ticket. " You make it in bushels in the City, you know you do, — in thousands. I saw you go into Eglantine's. Fine business that; finest in London. Five-shilling cakes of soap, my dear boj?-. I can't wash with such. Thousands a year that man has made — hasn't he? " " Upon my word, Tom, I don't know," says the Cap- tain. " You not know? Don't tell me. You know every- thing — you agents. You know he makes five thousand a year, — ay, and might make ten, but you know why he don't." " Indeed I don't." " Nonsense. Don't humbug a poor old fellow like me. Jews — Amos — fifty per cent., ay? Why can't he get his money from a good Christian? " THE RAVENSWING 273 " I have heard something of that sort," said Walker, laughing. " Why, by Jove, Tom, you know every- thing!" " You know everything, my dear boy. You know what a rascally trick that opera creature served him, poor fellow. Cashmere shawls — Storr and JNIortimer's — Star and Garter. Much better dine quiet off pea- soup and sprats,— ay? His betters have, as you know very well." "Pea-soup and sprats! What! have j^ou heard of that already? " "Who bailed Lord Billingsgate, ay, you rogue?" and here Tom gave a knowing and almost demoniacal grin. "Who would'n't go to the ' Finish?' Who had the piece of plate presented to him filled with sovereigns ? And you deserved it, my dear boy — you deserved it. They said it was only halfpence, but I know better!" and here Tom went off in a cough. " I say, Tom," cried Walker, inspired with a sudden thought, " you, who know everything, and are a theatri- cal man, did you ever know a Miss Delancy, an actress? " " At ' Sadler's Wells ' in '16? Of course I did. Real name was Budge. Lord Slapper admired her very much, my dear boy. She married a man by the name of Crump, his lordship's black footman, and brought him five thousand pounds; and they keep the 'Bootjack' public-house in Bunker's Buildings, and they've got fourteen children. Is one of them handsome, eh, you sly rogue, — and is it tliat which you will give five pounds to know? God bless you, my dear, dear boy. Jones, my dear friend, how are you? " And now, seizing on Jones, Tom Dale left Mr. Walker alone, and proceeded to pour into Mr. Jones's 274 MEN'S WIVES ear an account of the individual whom he had just quitted; how he was the best fellow in the world, and Jones knew it; how he was in a fine way of making his fortune; how he had been in the Fleet many times, and how he was at this moment employed in looking out for a young lady of whom a certain great marquess (whom Jones knew very well, too) had expressed an admira- tion. But for these observations, which he did not hear, Captain Walker, it may be pronounced, did not care. His eyes brightened up, he marched quickly and gaily away; and turning into his own chambers opposite Eg- lantine's shop, saluted that establishment with a grin of triumph. " You wouldn't tell me her name, wouldn't you?" said Mr. Walker. "Well, the luck's with me now, and here goes." Two days after, as Mr. Eglantine, with white gloves and a case of eau-de-Cologne as a present in his pocket, arrived at the " Bootjack Hotel," Little Bunker's Build- ings, Berkeley Square (for it must out — that was the place in which Mr. Crump's inn was situated) , he paused for a moment at the threshold of the little house of enter- tainment, and listened, with beating heart, to the sound of delicious music that a well-known voice was uttering within. The moon was playing in silvery brightness down the gutter of the humble street. A " helper," rubbing down one of Lady Smigsmag's carriage-horses, even paused in his whistle to listen to the strain. Mr. Tressle's man, who had been professionally occupied, ceased his tap- tap upon the coffin which he was getting in readiness. The greengrocer (there is always a greengrocer in those narrow streets, and he goes out in white Berlin gloves THE RAVENSWING 275 as a supernumerary footman) was standing charmed at his httle green gate; the cobbler (there is always a cob- bler too) was drunk, as usual, of evenings, but, with unusual subordination, never sung except when the re- frain of the ditty arrived, when he hiccupped it forth with tipsy loyalty; and Eglantine leaned against the Chequers painted on the door-side under the name of Crump, and looked at the red illumined curtain of the bar, and the vast, well-known shadow of Mrs. Crump's turban within. Now and again the shadow of that worthy matron's hand would be seen to grasp the shadow of a bottle ; then the shadow of a cup would rise towards the turban, and still the strain proceeded. Eg- lantine, I say, took out his yellow bandanna, and brushed the beady drops from his brow, and laid the contents of his white kids on his heart, and sighed with ecstatic sym- pathy. The song began,— " Come to the greenwood tree,^ Come where the dark woods be, Dearest, O come with me ! Let us rove — O my love — O my love! O my-y love ! " {Drunken Cobbler without) — " my-y love!" " Beast! " says Eglantine. " Come — 'tis the moonhglit hour, Dew is on leaf and flower, Come to the linden bower, — Let us rove — O my love — O my love! Let us ro-o-ove, lurlurliety ; yes, we'll rove, lurlurlicty, Through the gro-o-ove, lurlurliety — lurlurli-e-i-e-i-e-i ! " (Cobbler as usual)— " Let us ro-o-ovc," &c. 1 The words of this song are copyright, nor will the copyright be sold for less than twopence-halfpenny. 276 MEN'S WIVES " You here? " says another individual, coming chnk- ing up the street, in a mihtary-eut dress-coat, the buttons whereof shone very bright in the moonhght. " You here, Eglantine? — You're always here." " Hush, Woolsey," said Mr. Eglantine to his rival the tailor (for he was the individual in question) ; and Woolsey, accordingly, put his back against the opposite door-post and chequers, so that (with poor Eglantine's bulk) nothing much thicker than a sheet of paper could pass out or in. And thus these two amorous caryatides kept guard as the song continued: — " Dark is the wood, and wide, Dangers, they say, betide ; But, at my Albert's side. Nought I fear, O my love — O my love! " Welcome the greenwood tree, Welcome the forest tree. Dearest, with thee, with thee, Nought I fear, O my love — O ma-a-y love! " Eglantine's fine eyes were filled with tears as Mor- giana passionately uttered the above beautiful words. Little Woolsey's eyes glistened, as he clenched his fist with an oath, and said, " Sliow me any singing that can beat that. Cobbler, shut your mouth, or I'll break your head!" But the cobbler, regardless of the threat, continued to perform the " Lurlurliety " with great accuracy; and when that was ended, both on his part and Morgiana's, a rapturous knocking of glasses was heard in the little bar, then a great clapping of hands, and finally, some- body shouted '"' Brava ! " THE RAVENSWING 277 "Brava!" At that word Eglantine turned deadly pale, then gave a start, then a rush forward, which pinned, or rather cushioned, the tailor against the wall ; then twisting him- self abruptly round, he sprung to the door of the bar, and bounced into that apartment. " How are you, my nosegay? " exclaimed the same A'oice which had shouted " Brava." It was that of Cap- tain Walker. At ten o'clock the next morning, a gentleman, with the King's button on his military coat, walked abruptly into JNIr. Eglantine's shop, and, turning on Mr. Moss- rose, said, " Tell your master I want to see him." " He's in his studio," said Mr. Mossrose. " Well, then, fellow, go and fetch him ! " And Mossrose, thinking it must be the Lord Cham- berlain, or Doctor Prsetorius at least, walked into the studio, where the perfumer was seated in a very glossy old silk dressing-gown, his fair hair hanging over his white face, his double chin over his flaccid, whitey-brown shirt-collar, his pea-green slippers on the hob, and, on the fire, the pot of chocolate which was simmering for his breakfast. A lazier fellow than poor Eglantine it would be hard to find ; whereas, on the contrary, Woolsey was always up and brushed, spick-and-span, at seven o'clock ; and had gone through his books, and given out the work for the journeymen, and eaten a hearty bi'cak- fast of rashers of bacon, before Eglantine had put the usual pound of grease to his hair (his fingers were al- ways as damp and shiny as if he had them in a pomatum- pot) , and arranged his figure for the day. " Here's a gent wants you in the shop," says Mr. Mossrose, leaving the door of communication wide open. 278 MEN'S WIVES " Say I'm in bed, Mr. Mossrose; I'm out of sperrets, and really can see nobody." " It's some one from Vindsor, I think; he's got the royal button," says Mossrose. " It's me— Woolsey," shouted the little man from the shop. Mr. Eglantine at this jumped up, made a rush to the door leading to his private apartment, and disappeared in a twinkling. But it must not be imagined that he fled in order to avoid Mr. Woolsey. He only went away for one minute just to put on his belt, for he was ashamed to be seen without it by his rival. This being assumed, and his toilet somewhat ar- ranged, Mr. Woolsey was admitted into his private room. And Mossrose would have heard every word of the conversation between those two gentlemen, had not Woolsey, opening the door, suddenly pounced on the assistant, taken him by the collar, and told him to disap- pear altogether into the shop : which ^lossrose did ; vow- ing he would have his revenge. The subject on which Woolsey had come to treat was an important one. " Mr. Eglantine," says he, " there's no use disguising from one another that we are both of us in love with Miss ^lorgiana, and that our chances up to this time have been pretty equal. But that Captain whom you introduced, like an ass as you were—" " An ass, Mr. Woolsey? I'd have you to know, sir, that I'm no more a hass than you are, sir; and as for in- troducing the Captain, I did no such thing." " Well, well, he's got a-poaching into our preserves somehow. He's evidently sweet upon the young wo- man, and is a more fashionable chap than either of us two. We must get him out of the house, sir— we must THE RAVENSWING 279 circumwent him; and then, Mr. Eglantine, will be time enough for you and me to try which is the best man." " He the best man! " thought Eglantine; " the little bald, unsightly tailor-creature! A man with no more soul than his smoothing-hiron ! " The perfumer, as may be imagined, did not utter this sentiment aloud, but ex- pressed himself quite willing to enter into any hainicahle arrangement, by which the new candidate for Miss Crump's favour must be thrown over. It was, accord- ingly, agreed between the two gentlemen that they should coalesce against the common enemy; that they should, by reciting many perfectly well-founded stories in the Captain's disfavour, influence the minds of Miss Crump's parents, and of herself, if possible, against this wolf in sheep's clothing; and that, when they were once fairly rid of him, each should be at liberty, as before, to prefer his own claim. " I have thought of a subject," said the little tailor, turning very red, and hemming and hawing a great deal. " I've thought, I say, of a pint, which may be resorted to with advantage at the present juncture, and in which each of us may be useful to the other. An exchange, Mr. Eglantine; do you take? " " Do you mean an accommodation-bill? " said Eglan- tine, whose mind ran a good deal on that species of ex- change. "Pooh, nonsense, sir! The name of our firm is, I flatter myself, a little more up in the market than some other people's names." " Do you mean to insult the name of Archibald Eg- lantine, sir? I'd have you to know that at three months—" " Nonsense! " says Mr. Woolsey, mastering his emo- 280 MEN'S WIVES tion. " There's no use a-quarrelling, Mr. E.: we're not in love with each other, I know that. You wish me hanged, or as good, I know that! " " Indeed I don't, sir! " " You do, sir; I tell you, you do! and what's more, I wish the same to you — transported, at any rate! But as two sailors, when a boat's a-sinking, though they hate each other ever so much, will helj) and bale the boat out ; so, sir, let us act: let us be the two sailors." " Bail, sir? " said Eglantine, as usual mistaking the drift of the argument. " I'll bail no man ! If you're in difficulties, I think you had better go to your senior part- ner, Mr. Woolsey." And Eglantine's cowardly little soul was filled with a savage satisfaction to think that his enemy was in distress, and actually obliged to come to Mm for succour. " You're enough to make Job swear, you great fat stupid lazy old barber! " roared Mr. Woolsey, in a fury. Eglantine jumped up and made for the bell-rope. The gallant little tailor laughed. " There's no need to call in Betsy," said he. " I'm not a-going to eat you. Eglantine; you're a bigger man than me: if you were just to fall on me, you'd smother me! Just sit still on the sofa and listen to reason." " Well, sir, pro-ceed," said the barber with a gasp. " Now, listen! What's the darling wish of your heart? I know it, sir! you've told it to Mr. Tressle, sir, and other gents at the club. The darling wish of your heart, sir, is to have a slap-up coat turned out of the ateliers of Messrs. Linsey, Woolsey and Company. You said you'd give twenty guineas for one of our coats, you know you did! Lord Bolsterton's a fatter man than you, and look what a figure we turn him out. Can any THE RAVENSWING 281 firm in England dress Lord Bolsterton but us, so as to make his lordship look decent? I defy 'em, sir! We could have given Daniel Lambert a figure! " " If I want a coat, sir," said Mr. Eglantine, " and I don't deny it, there's some people want a head of hair! " " That's the very point I was coming to," said the tailor, resuming the violent blush which was mentioned as having suffused his countenance at the beginning of the conversation. " Let us have terms of mutual accom- modation. Make me a wig, Mr. Eglantine, and though I never j^et cut a yard of cloth except for a gentleman, I'll pledge you my word I'll make you a coat." " Will you, honour bright? " says Eglantine. " Honour bright," says the tailor. " Look! " and in an instant he drew from his pocket one of those slips of parchment which gentlemen of his profession carry, and putting Eglantine into the proper position, began to take the preliminary observations. He felt Eglan- tine's heart thump with happiness as his measure passed over that soft part of the perfumer's person. Then pulling down the window-blind, and looking that the door was locked, and blushing still more deeply than ever, the tailor seated himself in an arm-chair towards which Mr. Eglantine beckoned him, and, tak- ing off his black wig, exposed his head to the great per- ruquier's gaze. Mr. Eglantine looked at it, measured it, manipulated it, sat for three minutes with his head in his hand and his elbow on his knee gazing at the tailor's cranium with all his might, walked round it twice or thrice, and then said, " It's enough, Mr. Woolsey. Con- sider the job as done. And now, sir," said he, with a greatly relieved air — " and now, Woolsey, let us 'ave a glass of cura^oa to celebrate this hauspicious meeting." 282 MEN'S WIVES The tailor, however, stiffly replied that he never drank in a morning, and left the room without offering to shake ]Mr. Eglantine by the hand: for he despised that gentleman very heartily, and himself, too, for coming to any compromise with him, and for so far demeaning himself as to make a coat for a barber. Looking from his chambers on the other side of the street, that inevitable Mr. Walker saw the tailor issuing from the perfumer's shop, and was at no loss to guess that something extraordinary must be in progress when two such bitter enemies met together. CHAPTER III WHAT CAME OF MR. WALKEr's DISCOVERY OF THE " BOOTJACK " IT is very easy to state how the Captain came to take up that proud position at the " Bootjack " which we have seen him occupy on the evening when the sound of the fatal " brava " so astonished Mr. Eglantine. The mere entry into the establishment was, of course, not difficult. Any person by simply uttering the words, " A pint of beer," was free of the " Bootjack; " and it was some such watchword that Howard Walker em- ployed when he made his first appearance. He requested to be shown into a parlour where he might repose him- self for a while, and was ushered into that very sanctum where the " Kidney Club " met. Then he stated that the beer was the best he had ever tasted, except in Bavaria, and in some parts of Spain, he added; and professing to be extremely " peckish," requested to THE RAVENSWING 283 know if there were any cold meat in the house whereof he could make a dinner. " I don't usually dine at this hour, landlord," said he, flinging down a half-sovereign for payment of the beer; "but your parlour looks so comfortable and the Windsor chairs are so snug, that I'm sure I could not dine better at the first club in London." " One of the first clubs in London is held in this very room," said Mr. Crump, very well pleased; "and at- tended by some of the best gents in town, too. We call it the ' Kidney Club.' " "Why, bless my soul! it is the very club my friend Eglantine has so often talked to me about, and attended by some of the tip-top tradesmen of the metropolis! " " There's^ better men here than ]Mr. Eglantine," re- plied Mr. Crump; "though he's a good man— I don't say he's not a good man— but there's better. Mr. Clinker, sir; Mr. Woolsey, of the house of Linsey, Woolsey and Co—" "The great army-clothiers!" cried Walker; "the first house in town! " and so continued, with exceeding urbanity, holding conversation with Mr. Crump, until the honest landlord retired delighted, and told Mrs. Crump in the bar that there was a tip-top swell in the " Kidney " parlour, who was a-going to have his dinner there. Fortune favoured the brave Captain in every way. It was just Mr. Crump's own dinner-hour; and on Mrs. Crump stepping into the parlour to ask the guest whether he would like a slice of tlie joint to which the family were about to sit down, fancy that lady's start of astonishment at recognizing Mr. Eglantine's face- tious friend of the day before. The Captain at once 284 MEN'S WIVES demanded permission to partake of the joint at the family table; the lady could not with any great reason deny this request; the Captain was inducted into the bar; and Miss Crump, who always came down late for din- ner, was even more astonished than her mamma on be- holding the occupier of the fourth place at the table. Had she expected to see the fascinating stranger so soon again? I think she had. Her big eye said as much, as, furtively looking up at Mr. Walker's face, they caught his looks ; and then bouncing down again towards her plate, pretended to be very busy in looking at the boiled beef and carrots there displayed. She blushed far redder than those carrots, but her shining ringlets hid her confusion together with her lovely face. Sweet Morgiana ! the billiard-ball eyes had a tremen- dous effect on the Captain. They fell plump, as it were, into the pocket of his heart; and he gallantly proposed to treat the company to a bottle of champagne, which was accepted without much difficulty. Mr. Crump, under pretence of going to the cellar (where he said he had some cases of the finest champagne in Europe) , called Dick, the boy, to him, and despatched him with all speed to a wine-merchant's, where a couple of bottles of the liquor were procured. "Bring up two bottles, Mr. C," Captain Walker gallantly said when Crump made his move, as it were, to the cellar; and it may be imagined after the two bottles were drunk (of which Mrs. Crump took at least nine glasses to her share), how happy, merry and confidential the whole party had become. Crump told his story of the " Bootjack," and whose boot it had drawn ; the former Miss Delancy expatiated on her past theatrical life, and the pictures hanging round the room. THE RAVENSWIXG 285 JNIiss was equally communicative ; and, in short, the Cap- . tain had all the secrets of the little family in his pos- session ere sunset. He knew that INIiss cared little for either of her suitors, about whom mamma and papa had a little quarrel. He heard Mrs. Crump talk of Mor- giana's property, and fell more in love with her than ever. Then came tea, the luscious crumpet, the quiet game at cribbage, and the song— the song which poor Eglantine heard, and which caused Woolsey's rage and his despair. At the close of the evening the tailor Avas in a greater rage, and the perfumer in greater despair than ever. He had made his little present of eau-de-Cologne. " Oh fie! " says the Captain, with a horse-laugh, " it smells of the shop!" He taunted the tailor about his wig, and the honest fellow had only an oath to give by way of repartee. He told his stories about his club and his lordly friends. What chance had either against the all- accomplished Howard Walker? Old Crump, with a good innate sense of right and wrong, hated the man; Mrs. Crump did not feel quite at her ease regarding him; but Morgiana thought him the most delightful person the world ever produced. Eglantine's usual morning costume was a blue satin neckcloth embroidered with butterflies and ornamented with a brandy-ball brooch, a light shawl waistcoat, and a rhubarb-coloured coat of the sort which, I believe, are called Taglionis, and which have no waist-buttons, and make a pretence, as it were, to have no waists, but are in reality adopted by the fat in order to give them a waist. Nothing easier for an obese man than to have a waist; he has but to pinch his middle part a little and the very fat on either side pushed violently forward makes 286 MEN'S WIVES a waist, as it were, and our worthy perfumer's figure was that of a bolster cut almost in two with a string. Walker presently saw him at his shop-door grinning in this costume, twiddling his ringlets with his dumpy greasy fingers, glittering with oil and rings, and looking so exceedingly contented and happy that the estate- agent felt assured some very satisfactory conspiracy had been planned between the tailor and him. How was Mr. Walker to learn what the scheme was? Alas! the poor fellow's vanity and delight were such, that he could not keep silent as to the cause of his satisfaction, and rather than not mention it at all, in the fulness of his heart he would have told his secret to ]Mr. Mossrose himself. " When I get my coat," thought the Bond Street Al- naschar, " I'll hire of Snaffle that easy-going cream-col- oured 'oss that he bought from Astley's, and I'll canter through the Park, and wont I pass through Little Bimker's Buildings, that's all? I'll wear my grey trou- sers with the velvet stripe down the side, and get my spurs lacquered up, and a French polish to my boot ; and if I don't do for the Captain and the tailor too, my name's not Archibald. And I know what I'll do: I'll hire the small Clarence, and invite the Crumps to dinner at the ' Gar and Starter'" (this was his facetious way of calling the " Star and Garter"), " and I'll ride by them all the way to Richmond. It's rather a long ride, but with Snaffle's soft saddle I can do it pretty easy, I dare say." And so the honest fellow built castles upon castles in the air; and the last most beautiful vision of all was INIiss Crump " in white satting, with a horange- flower in her 'air," putting him in possession of " her lovely 'and before the haltar of St. George's, *Anover THE RAVENSWING 287 Square." As for Woolsey, Eglantine determined that he should have the best wig his art could produce; for he had not the least fear of his rival. These points then being arranged to the poor fellow's satisfaction, what does he do but send out for half a quire of pink note-paper, and in a filigree envelope des- patch a note of invitation to the ladies at the " Boot- jack: " — " Bower of Bloom, Bond Street, " Thursday/. " Mr. Archibald Eglantine presents his compliments to Mrs. and Miss Crump, and requests the honour and pleasure of their company at the ' Star and Garter ' at Richmond to an early din- ner on Sunday next. " If agreeable, Mr. Eglantine's carriage will be at your door at three o'clock, and I propose to accompany them on horseback if agreeable likewise." This note was sealed with yellow wax, and sent to its destination; and of course Mr. Eglantine went himself for the answer in the evening : and of course he told the ladies to look out for a certain new coat he was going to sport on Sunday ; and of course Mr. Walker happens to call the next day with spare tickets for JNIrs. Crump and her daughter, when the whole secret was laid bare to him, — how the ladies were going to Richmond on Sun- day in Mr. Snaffle's Clarence, and how Mr. Eglantine was to ride by their side. Mr. Walker did not keep horses of his own ; his mag- nificent friends at the " Regent " had plenty in their stables, and some of these were at livery at the establish- ment of the Captain's old " college " companion, Mr. Snaffle. It was easy, therefore, for the Captain to re- new his acquaintance with that individual. So, hanging 288 MEN'S WIVES on the arm of my Lord Vauxhall, Capt. Walker next day made his appearance at Snaffle's livery-stables, and looked at the various horses there for sale or at bait, and soon managed, by putting some facetious questions to Mr. Snaffle regarding the " Kidney Club," &c., to place himself on a friendly footing with that gentleman, and to learn from him what horse Mr. Eglantine was to ride on Sunday. The monster Walker had fully determined in his mind that Eglantine should fall off that horse in the course of his Sunday's ride. " That sing'lar hanimal," said Mr. Snaffle, pointing to the old horse, " is the celebrated Hemperor that was the wonder of Hastley's some years back, and was parted with by Mr. Ducrow honly because his feelin's wouldn't allow him to keep him no longer after the death of the first Mrs. D., who invariably rode him. I bought him, thinking that p'raps ladies and Cockney bucks might like to ride him (for his haction is wonder- ful, and he canters like a harm-chair) ; but he's not safe on any day except Sundays." " And why's that? " asked Captain Walker. " Why is he safer on Sundays than other days? " " Because there's no music in the streets on Sundays. The first gent that rode him found himself dancing a quadrille in Hupper Brook Street to an 'urdy-gurdy that was playing ' Cherry Ripe,' such is the natur of the hanimal. And if you reklect the play of the ' Battle of Hoysterlitz,' in which Mrs. D. hacted ' the female hussar,' you may remember how she and the horse died in the third act to the toon of ' God preserve the Em- peror,' from which this horse took his name. Only play that toon to him, and he rears hisself up, beats the hair THE RAVENSWING 289 in time with his forelegs, and then sinks gently to the ground as though he were carried off by a cannon-ball. He served a lady hopposite Hapsley Ouse so one day, and since then I've never let him out to a friend except on Sunday, when, in course, there's no danger. Heg- lantine is a friend of mine, and of course I wouldn't put the poor fellow on a hanimal I couldn't trust." After a little more conversation, my lord and his friend quitted INIr. Snaffle's, and as they walked away towards the " Regent," his lordship might be heard shrieking with laughter, crying, "Capital, by jingo! exthlent! Dwive down in the dwag! Take Lungly. Worth a thousand pound, by Jove! " and similar ejacu- lations, indicative of exceeding delight. On Saturday morning, at ten o'clock to a moment, Mr. Woolsey called at INIr. Eglantine's with a yellow handkerchief under his arm. It contained the best and handsomest body-coat that ever gentleman put on. It fitted Eglantine to a nicety— it did not pinch him in the least, and yet it was of so exquisite a cut that the perfumer found, as he gazed delighted in the glass, that he looked like a manly, portly, high-bred gentleman— a lieutenant-colonel in the army, at the very least. " You're a full man. Eglantine," said the tailor, de- lighted, too, with his own work; "but that can't be helped. You look more like Hercules than Falstaff now, sir; and if a coat can make a gentleman, a gentle- man you are. Let me recommend you to sink the blue cravat, and take the stripes off your trousers. Dress quiet, sir; draw it mild. Plain waistcoat, dark trousers, black neckcloth, black hat, and if there's a better-dressed man in Europe to-morrow I'm a Dutchman." " Thank you, Woolsey — thank you, my dear sir," said 290 MEN'S WIVES the charmed perfumer. " And now I'll just trouble you to try on this here." The wig had been made with equal skill; it was not in the florid style which JNIr. Eglantine loved in his own person, but, as the perfumer said, a simple, straightfor- ward head of hair. " It seems as if it had grown there all your life, JNIr. Woolsey; nobody would tell that it was not your nat'ral colour " (Mr. Woolsey blushed) — " it makes you look ten year younger; and as for that scarecrow yonder, you'll never, I think, want to wear that again." W^oolsej^ looked in the glass, and was delighted too. The two rivals shook hands and straightway became friends, and in the overflowing of his heart the perfumer mentioned to the tailor the party which he had arranged for the next day, and offered him a seat in the carriage and at the dinner at the " Star and Garter." " Would you like to ride? " said Eglantine, with rather a conse- quential air. " Snaffle will mount you, and we can go one on each side of the ladies, if you like." But Woolsey humbly said he was not a riding man, and gladly consented to take a place in the Clarence car- riage, provided he was allowed to bear half the expenses of the entertainment. This proposal was agreed to by Mr. Eglantine, and the two gentlemen parted to meet once more at the " Kidneys " that night, when everybody was edified by the friendly tone adopted be- tween them. Mr. Snaffle, at the club meeting, made the very same proposal to Mr. Woolsey that the perfumer had made; and stated that as Eglantine was going to ride Hem- peror, Woolsey, at least, ought to mount too. But he was met by the same modest refusal on the tailor's part, THE RAVENSWING 291 who stated that he had never mounted a horse yet, and preferred greatly the use of a coach. Eglantine's character as a " swell " rose greatly with the club that evening. Two o'clock on Sunday came: the two beaux arrived punctually at the door to receive the two smiling ladies. " Bless us, Ur. Eglantine! " said Miss Crump, quite struck by him, " I never saw you look so handsome in your life." He could have flung his arms around her neck at the compliment. " And law, Ma ! what has hap- pened to Mr. Woolsey? doesn't he look ten years younger than yesterday ? " Mamma assented, and Wool- sey bowed gallantly, and the two gentlemen exchanged a nod of hearty friendship. The day was delightful. Eglantine pranced along magnificently on his cantering arm-chair, with his hat on one ear, his left hand on his side, and his head flung over his shoulder, and throwing under-glances at Mor- giana whenever the " Emperor " was in advance of the Clarence. The " Emperor " pricked up his ears a little uneasily passing the Ebenezer chapel in Richmond, where the congregation were singing a hymn, but be- yond this no accident occurred; nor was Mr. Eglantine in the least stiff or fatigued by the time the party reached Richmond, where he arrived time enough to give his steed into the charge of an ostler, and to present his elbow to the ladies as tliey alighted from the Clarence carriage. What this jovial party ate for dinner at the " Star and Garter " need not here be set down. If they did not drink champagne I am very much mistaken. They were as merry as any four people in Christendom; and be- tween the bewildering attentions of the perfumer, and 292 MEN'S WIVES the manly courtesy of the tailor, Morgiana very likely forgot the gallant captain, or, at least, was very happy in his absence. At eight o'clock they began to drive homewards. " Wont you come into the carriage? " said Morgiana to Eglantine, with one of her tenderest looks; " Dick can ride the horse." But Archibald was too great a lover of equestrian exercise. " I'm afraid to trust anybody on this horse," said he with a knowing look; and so he pranced away by the side of the little carriage. The moon was brilliant, and, with the aid of the gas-lamps, illuminated the whole face of the country in a way in- expressibly lively. Presently, in the distance, the sweet and plaintive notes of a bugle were heard, and the performer, with great delicacy, executed a religious air. " Music, too ! heavenly! " said Morgiana, throwing up her eyes to the stars. The music came nearer and nearer, and the de- light of the company was only more intense. The fly was going at about four miles an hour, and the " Em- peror " began cantering to time at the same rapid pace. " This must be some gallantry of yours, ]Mr. Wool- sey," said the romantic Morgiana, turning upon that gentleman. " Mr. Eglantine treated us to the dinner, and you have provided us with the music." Now Woolsey had been a little, a very little, dissatis- fied during the course of the evening's entertainment, by fancying that Eglantine, a much more voluble person than himself, had obtained rather an undue share of the ladies' favour; and as he himself paid half of the ex- penses, he felt very much vexed to think that the per- fumer should take all the credit of the business to him- self. So when Miss Crump asked if he had provided the THE RAVENSWING 293 music, he foolishly made an evasive reply to her query, and rather wished her to imagine that he had performed that piece of gallantry. " If it pleases you. Miss Mor- giana," said this artful Schneider, " what more need any man ask? wouldn't I have all Drury Lane orchestra to please you? " The bugle had by this time arrived quite close to the Clarence carriage, and if Morgiana had looked round she might have seen whence the music came. Behind her came slowly a drag, or private stage-coach, with four horses. Two grooms with cockades and folded arms were behind ; and driving on the box, a little gentleman, with a blue bird's-eye neckcloth, and a white coat. A bugleman was by his side, who performed the melodies which so delighted Miss Crump. He played very gently and sweetly, and " God save the King " trembled so softly out of the brazen orifice of his bugle, that the Crumps, the tailor, and Eglantine himself, who was riding close by the carriage, were quite charmed and sub- dued. "Thank you, dear Mr. Woolsey," said the grateful Morgiana; which made Eglantine stare, and Woolsey was just saying, " Really, upon my word, I've nothing to do with it," when the man on the drag-box said to the bugleman, " Now! " The bugleman began the tune of — " Heaven preserve our Emperor Fra-an-cis, Rum tum-ti-tum-ti-titty-ti." At the sound, the Emperor reared himself (with a roar from Mr. Eglantine) —reared and beat the air with liis fore-paws. Eglantine flung his arms round the beast's neck, still he kept l)eating time with his fore-paws. Mrs. 294 MEN'S WIVES Crump screamed; Mr. Woolsey, Dick, the Clarence coachman, Lord Vauxhall (for it was he), and his lord- ship's two g-rooms, burst into a shout of laughter; Mor- giana cries " Mercy! mercy! " Eglantine yells " Stop! " — "Wo!"— "O!" and a thousand ejaculations of hideous terror; until, at last, down drops the "Em- peror " stone dead in the middle of the road, as if carried off by a cannon-ball. Fancy the situation, ye callous souls who laugh at the misery of humanity, fancy the situation of poor Eg- lantine under the "Emperor!" He had fallen very easy, the animal lay perfectly quiet, and the perfumer was to all intents and purposes as dead as the animal. He had not fainted, but he was immovable with terror; he lay in a puddle, and thought it was his own blood gushing from him; and he would have lain there until Monday morning, if my lord's grooms, descending, had not dragged him by the coat-coilars from under the beast, who still lay quiet. "Play 'Charming Judy Callaghan,' will ye?" says Mr. Snaffle's man, the fly-driver; on which the bugler performed that lively air, and up started the horse, and the grooms, vA\o were rubbing Mr. Eglantine down against a lamp-post, invited him to remount. But his heart was too broken for that. The ladies gladly made room for him in the Clarence. Dick mounted " Emperor " and rode homewards. The drag, too, drove away, playing, " O dear, what can the matter be?" and with a scowl of furious hate, Mr. Eglantine sat and regarded his rival. His pantaloons were split, and his coat torn up the back. "Are you hurt much, dear Mr. Archibald?" said Morgiana, with unaffected compassion. THE RAVEK SWING 295 " N-not much," said the poor fellow, ready to burst into tears. " Oh, JNIr. Woolsey," added the good-natured girl, " how could you play such a trick? " "Upon my word," Woolsey began, intending to plead innocence; but the ludicrousness of the situation was once more too much for him, and he burst out into a roar of laughter. " You! you cowardly beast! " howled out Eglantine, now driven to fury,—'' you laugh at me, you miserable cretur! Take that, sir! " and he fell upon him with all his might, and well-nigh throttled the tailor, and pum- melling his eyes, his nose, his ears, with inconceivable rapidity, wrenched, finally, his wig off his head, and flung it into the road. Morgiana saw that Woolsey had red hair.^ ****** CHAPTER IV IN WHICH THE HEROINE HAS A NUMBER MORI LOVERS, AND CUTS A VERY DASHING FIGURE IN THE WORLD TWO years have elapsed since the festival at Rich- mond, which, begun so peaceably, ended in such general uproar. ]\Iorgiana never could be brought to pardon Woolsey's red hair, nor to help laughing at Eg- lantine's disasters, nor could the two gentlemen be rec- onciled to one another. Woolsey, indeed, sent a chal- lenge to the perfumer to meet him with pistols, which the latter declined, saying, justly, that tradesmen had no business with such weapons; on this the tailor pro- ' A French proverhe furnished the .-luthor with (he notion of the rivalry between the Barber and the Tailor. 296 MEN'S WIVES posed to meet him with coats off, and have it out hke men, in the presence of their friends of the " Kidney Club." The perfumer said he would be party to no such vulgar transaction; on which Woolsey, exasperated, made an oath that he would tweak the perfumer's nose so surely as he ever entered the club-room ; and thus one member of the " Kidnej^s " was compelled to vacate his arm-chair. Woolsey himself attended every meeting regularly, but he did not evince that gaiety and good humour which render men's company agreeable in clubs. On arriving, he would order the boy to " tell him when that scoundrel Eglantine came; " and, hanging up his hat on a peg, would scowl round the room, and tuck up his sleeves very high, and stretch and shake his fingers and wrists, as if getting them ready for that pull of the nose which he intended to bestow upon his rival. So prepared, he would sit down and smoke his pipe quite silently, glaring at all, and jumping up, and hitching up his coat-sleeves, when any one entered the room. The " Kidneys " did not like this behaviour. Clinker ceased to come. Bustard, the poulterer, ceased to come. As for Snaffle, he also disappeared, for Woolsey wished to make him answerable for the misbehaviour of Eglan- tine, and proposed to him the duel which the latter had declined. So Snaffle went. Presently they all went, except the tailor and Tressle, who lived down the street, and these two would sit and puff their tobacco, one on each side of Crump, the landlord, as silent as Indian chiefs in a wigwam. There grew to be more and more room for poor old Crump in his chair and in his clothes ; the " Kidneys " were gone, and why should he remain? One Saturday he did not come down to preside at the THE RAVENSWING 297 club (as he still fondly called it), and the Saturday fol- lowing Tressle had made a coffin for him; and Woolsey, with the undertaker by his side, followed to the grave the father of the " Kidneys." Mrs. Crump was now alone in the world. " How alone? " says some innocent and respected reader. Ah! my dear sir, do you know so little of human nature as not to be aware that, one week after the Richmond affair, Morgiana married Captain Walker? That did she privately, of course; and, after the ceremony, came tripping back to her parents, as young people do in plays, and said, " Forgive me, dear Pa and Ma, I'm married, and here is my husband, the Captain! " Papa and mamma did forgive her, as why shouldn't they? and papa paid over her fortune to her, which she carried home delighted to the Captain. This happened several months before the demise of old Crump ; and Mrs. Cap- tain Walker was on the Continent with her Howard when that melancholy event took place; hence JVIrs. Crump's loneliness and unprotected condition. Mor- giana had not latterly seen much of the old people ; how could she, moving in her exalted sphere, receive at her genteel new residence in the Edgeware Road, the old publican and his wife? Being, then, alone in the world, Mrs. Crump could not abear, she said, to live in the house where she had been so respected and happy: so she sold the good-will of the " Bootjack," and, with the money arising from this sale and her own private fortune, being able to muster some sixty pounds per annum, retired to the neighbourhood of her dear old " Sadler's Wells," where she boarded with one of Mrs. Serle's forty pu])ils. Her heart was broken, she said ; but nevertheless, about nine 298 MEN'S WIVES months after IMr. Crump's death, the wallflowers, nas- turtiums, polyanthuses and convolvuluses began to blos- som under her bonnet as usual; in a year she was dressed quite as fine as ever, and now never missed the " Wells," or some other place of entertainment, one single night, but was as regular as the box-keeper. Nay, she was a buxom widow still, and an old flame of hers, Fisk, so celebrated as pantaloon in Grimaldi's time, but now doing the " heavy fathers " at the " Wells," proposed to her to exchange her name for his. But this proposal the worthy widow declined alto- gether. To say truth, she was exceedingly proud of her daughter, Mrs. Captain Walker. They did not see each other much at first ; but every now and then IMrs. Crump would pay a visit to the folks in Connaught Square; and on the days when " the Captain's " lady called in the City Road, there was not a single official at " The Wells," from the first tragedian down to the call-boy, who was not made aware of the fact. It has been said that Morgiana carried home her for- tune in her own reticule, and smiling placed the money in her husband's lap ; and hence the reader may imagine, w^lio knows Mr. Walker to be an extremely selfish fel- low, that a great scene of anger must have taken place, and many coarse oaths and epithets of abuse must have come from him, when he found that five hundred pounds was all that his wife had, although he had expected five thousand with her. But, to say the truth. Walker was at this time almost in love with his handsome, ros5^ good- humoured, simple wife. They had made a fortnight's tour, during which they had been exceedingly happy; and there was something so frank and touching in the way in which the kind creature flung her all into his lap, THE RAVENSWING 299 saluting him with a hearty embrace at the same time, and wishing that it were a thousand billion billion times more, so that her darling Howard might enjoy it, that the man would have been a ruffian indeed could he have found it in his heart to be angry with her ; and so he kissed her in return, and patted her on the shining ringlets, and then counted over the notes with rather a disconsolate air, and ended by locking them up in his portfolio. In fact, she had never deceived him; Eglantine had, and he in return had out- tricked Eglantine ; and so warm were his affections for JNIorgiana at this time, that, upon my word and honour, I don't think he repented of his bar- gain. Besides, five hundred pounds in crisp bank-notes was a sum of money such as the Captain was not in the habit of handling every day ; a dashing, sanguine fellow, he fancied there w^as no end to it, and already thought of a dozen ways by which it should increase and multiply into a plum. Woe is me! Has not many a simple soul examined five new hundred-pound notes in this waj^ and calculated their powers of duration and multiplication! This subject, however, is too painful to be dwelt on. Let us hear what Walker did with his money. Why, he furnished the house in the Edgeware Road before men- tioned, he ordered a handsome service of plate, he sported a phaeton and two ponies, he kept a couple of smart maids and a groom foot-boy,— in fact, he mounted just such a neat, unpretending, gentlemanlike establish- ment as becomes a respectable young couple on their out- set in life. " I've sown my wild oats," he would say to his acquaintances; " a few years since, perhaps, I would have longed to cut a dash, but now prudence is the word ; and I've settled every farthing of INIrs. Walker's fifteen thousand on herself." And the best proof that the 300 MEN'S WIVES world had confidence in him is the fact, that for the articles of plate, equipage, and furniture, which have been mentioned as being in his possession, he did not pay one single shilling ; and so prudent was he, that but for turnpikes, postage-stamps, and king's taxes, he hardly had occasion to change a five-pound note of his wife's fortune. To tell the truth, Mr. Walker had determined to make his fortune. And what is easier in London? Is not the share-market open to all? Do not Spanish and Colum- bian bonds rise and fall? For what are companies in- vented but to place thousands in the pockets of share- holders and directors? Into these commercial pursuits the gallant Captain now plunged with great energy, and made some brilliant hits at first starting, and bought and sold so opportunely, that his name began to rise in the City as a capitalist, and might be seen in the printed list of directors of many excellent and philanthropic schemes, of which there is never any lack in London. Business to the amount of thousands was done at his agency; shares of vast value were bought and sold under his management. How poor Mr. Eglantine used to hate him and envy him, as from the door of his emporium (the firm was Eglantine and Mossrose now) he saw the Captain daily arrive in his pony-phaeton, and heard of the start he had taken in life. The only regret Mrs. Walker had was that she did not enjoy enough of her husband's society. His business called him away all day ; his business, too, obhged him to leave her of evenings ver}'^ frequently alone; whilst he (always in pursuit of business) was dining with his great friends at the club, and drinking claret and champagne to the same end. THE RAVEN SWING 301 She was a perfectly good-natured and simple soul, and never made him a single reproach ; but when he could pass an evening at home with her she was delighted, and when he could drive with her in the Park she was happy for a week after. On these occasions, and in the fulness of her heart, she would drive to her mother and tell her story. " Howard drove with me in the Park yesterday, mamma;" "Howard has promised to take me to the Opera," and so forth. And that evening the manager, Mr. Gawler, the first tragedian, Mrs. Serle and her forty pupils, all the box-keepers, bonnet-women— nay, the ginger-beer girls themselves at " The Wells," knew that Captain and Mrs. Walker were at Kensington Gardens, or were to have the Marchioness of Billingsgate's box at the Opera. One night— O joy of joys!— Mrs. Captain Walker appeared in a private box at " The Wells." That's she with the black ringlets and Cashmere shawl, smelling-bottle, and black-velvet gown, and bird of paradise in her hat. Goodness gracious! how they all acted at her, Gawler and all, and how happy Mrs. Crump was! She kissed her daughter between all the acts, she nodded to all her friends on the stage, in the shps, or in the real water; she introduced her daughter, Mrs. Cap- tain Walker, to the box-opener; and Melvil Delamere (the first comic) , Canterfield (the tyrant) , and Jonesini (the celebrated Fontarabian Statuesque), were all on the steps, and shouted for Mrs. Captain Walker's car- riage, and waved their hats, and bowed as the little ])ony- phaeton drove away. Walker, in his moustaches, had come in at the end of the ])lay, and was not a little grati- fied by the compliments paid to liimself and lady. Among the other articles of hixury with which the Captain furnished his house we must not omit to mention 302 MEN'S WIVES an extremely grand piano, which occupied four-fifths of JNIrs. Walker's little back drawing-room, and at which she was in the habit of practising continually. All day and all night during Walker's absences (and these oc- curred all night and all day) you might hear — the whole street might hear — the voice of the lady at No. 23 gurg- ling, and shaking, and quavering, as ladies do when they practise. The street did not approve of the continuance of the noise; but neighbours are difficult to please, and what would JNIorgiana have had to do if she had ceased to sing? It would be hard to lock a blackbird in a cage and prevent him from singing too. And so Walker's blackbird, in the snug little cage in the Edge ware Road, sang and was not unhappy. After the pair had been married for about a year, the omnibus that passes both by Mrs. Crump's house near "The Wells," and by Mrs. Walker's street off the Edge ware Road, brought up the former-named lady almost every day to her daughter. She came when the Captain had gone to his business; she stayed to a two- o'clock dinner with JVIorgiana, she drove with her in the pony-carriage round the Park, but she never stopped later than six. Had she not to go to the play at seven? And, besides, the Captain might come home with some of his great friends, and he always swore and grumbled much if he found his mother-in-law on the premises. As for IMorgiana, she was one of those women who en- courage despotism in husbands. What the husband says must be right, because he says it; what he orders must be obeyed tremblingly. Mrs. Walker gave up her entire reason to her lord. Why was it ? Before marriage she had been an independent little person; she had far more brains than her Howard. I think it must have been THE RAVEN SWING 303 his moustaches that frightened her, and caused in her this humihty. Selfish hushands have this advantage in maintaining with easy-minded wives a rigid and inflexible behaviour, viz., that if they do by any chance grant a little favour, the ladies receive it with such transports of gratitude as they would never think of showing to a lord and master who was accustomed to give them everything they asked for; and hence, when Captain Walker signified his assent to his wife's prayer that she should take a singing-master, she thought his generosity almost divine, and fell upon her mamma's neck, when that lady came the next day, and said what a dear adorable angel her Howard was, and what ought she not to do for a man who had taken her from her humble situation, and raised her to be what she was! What she was, poor soul! She was the wife of a swindling parvenu gentleman. She received visits from six ladies of her husband's acquaintances,— two attorneys' ladies, his bill-broker's lady, and one or two more, oi whose characters we had best, if you please, say nothing; and she thought it an honour to be so distin- guished: as if Walker had been a Eord Exeter to marry a humble maiden, or a noble prince to fall in love with a humble Cinderella, or a majestic Jove to come down from heaven and woo a Semele. Look through the world, respectable reader, and among your honourable acquaintances, and say if this sort of faith in women is not very frequent? They will believe in their husbands, whatever the latter do. Let John be dull, ugly, vulgar, and a humbug, his Mary Ann never finds it out; let him tell his stories ever so many times, there is she always ready with her kind smile ; let him be stingy, she says he is prudent; let him quarrel with his best friend, she says 304 MEN'S WIVES he is always in the right ; let him be prodigal, she says he is generous, and that his health requires enjoyment; let him be idle, he must have relaxation ; and she will pinch herself and her household that he may have a guinea for his club. Yes; and every morning, as she wakes and looks at the face, snoring on the pillow by her side — every morning, I say, she blesses that dull, ugly counte- nance, and the dull ugly soul reposing there, and thinks both are something divine. I want to know how it is that women do not find out their husbands to be hum- bugs? Nature has so provided it, and thanks to her. When last year they were acting the " Midsummer Night's Dream," and all the boxes began to roar with great coarse heehaws at Titania hugging Bottom's long long ears — to me, considering these things, it seemed that there were a hundred other male brutes squatted round about, and treated just as reasonably as Bottom was. Their Titanias lulled them to sleep in their laps, sum- moned a hundred smiling, delicate, household fairies to tickle their gross intellects and minister to their vulgar pleasures ; and ( as the above remarks are only supposed to apply to honest women loving their own lawful spouses) a mercy it is that no wicked Puck is in the way to open their eyes, and point out their folly. Cui bono? let them live on in their deceit : I know two lovely ladies who will read this, and will say it is just very likely, and not see in the least that it has been written regarding them. Another point of sentiment, and one curious to specu- late on. Have you not remarked the immense works of art that women get through? The worsted-work sofas, the counterpanes patched or knitted (but these are among the old-fashioned in the country) , the bushels of THE RAVENSWING 305 pincushions, the albums they laboriously fill, the tremen- dous pieces of music they practise, the thousand other fiddle-faddles which occupy the attention of the dear souls— nay, have we not seen them seated of evenings in a squad or company, Louisa employed at the worsted- work before mentioned, Eliza at the pincushions, Amelia at card-racks or filagree matches, and, in the midst, The- odosia with one of the candles, reading out a novel aloud ? Ah ! my dear sir, mortal creatures must be very hard put to it for amusement, be sure of that, when they are forced to gather together in a company and hear nov- els read aloud ! They only do it because they can't help it, depend upon it : it is a sad life, a poor pastime. Mr. Dickens, in his American book, tells of the prisoners at the silent prison, how they had ornamented their rooms, some of them with a frightful prettiness and elaboration. Women's fancy-work is of this sort often— only prison work, done because there was no other exercising-ground for their poor little thoughts and fingers ; and hence these wonderful pincushions are executed, these counterpanes woven, these sonatas learned. By everything senti- mental, when I see two kind, innocent, fresh-cheeked young women go to a piano, and sit down opposite to it upon two chairs piled with more or less music-books (according to their convenience), and, so seated, go through a set of double-barrelled variations upon this or that tune by Herz or Kalkbrenner,— I say, far from re- ceiving any satisfaction at the noise made by the per- formance, my too susceptible heart is given up entirely to bleeding for the performers. What hours, and weeks, nay, preparatory years of study, lias that infernal jig cost them! What sums has papa paid, what scoldings has mamma administered (" Lady Bullblock does not 306 MEN'S WIVES play herself," Sir Thomas says, " but she has naturally the finest ear for music ever known! ") ; what evidences of slavery, in a word, are there! It is the condition of the young lady's existence. She breakfasts at eight, she does " Mangnall's Questions " with the governess till ten, she practises till one, she walks in the square with bars round her till two, then she practises again, then she sews or hems, or reads French, or Hume's " History," then she comes down to play to papa, because he likes music whilst he is asleep after dinner, and then it is bed-time, and the morrow is another day with what are called the same " duties " to be gone through. A friend of mine went to call at a nobleman's house the other day, and one of the young ladies of the house came into the room with a tray on her head ; this tray was to give Lady Maria a graceful carriage. 31 on Dieu! and who knows but at that moment Lady Bell was at work with a pair of her dumb namesakes, and Lady Sophy lying flat on a stretching-board? I could write whole articles on this theme: but peace! we are keeping Mrs. Walker waiting all the while. Well, then, if the above disquisitions have anything to do with the story, as no doubt they have, I wish it to be understood that, during her husband's absence, and her own solitary confinement, ]Mrs. Howard Walker be- stowed a prodigious quantity of her time and energy on the cultivation of her musical talent; and having, as be- fore stated, a very fine loud voice, speedily attained no ordinary skill in the use of it. She first had for teacher little Podmore, the fat chorus-master at " The Wells," and who had taught her mother the " Tink-a-tink " song which has been such a favourite since it first appeared. He grounded her well, and bade her eschew the singing THE RAVENSWING 307 of all those " Eagle Tavern " ballads in which her heart formerly delighted; and when he had brought her to a certain point of skill, the honest little chorus-master said she should have a still better instructor, and wrote a note to Captain Walker (inclosing his own little account), speaking in terms of the most flattering encomium of his lady's progress, and recommending that she should take lessons of the celebrated Baroski. Captain Walker dis- missed Podmore then, and engaged Signor Baroski, at a vast expense ; as he did not fail to tell his wife. In fact, he owed Baroski no less than two hundred and twenty guineas when he was . . . But we are advancing mat- ters. Little Baroski is the author of the opera of " Elioga- balo," of the oratorio of " Purgatorio," which made such an immense sensation, of songs and ballet-musics innum- erable. He is a German by birth, and shows such an out- rageous partiality for pork and sausages, and attends at church so constantly, that I am sure there cannot be any foundation in the story that he is a member of the ancient religion. He is a fat little man, with a hooked nose and jetty whiskers, and coal-black shining eyes, and plenty of rings and jewels on his fingers and about his person, and a very considerable portion of his shirt-sleeves turned over his coat to take the air. His great hands (which can sprawl over half a piano, and produce those eiFects on the instrument for which he is celebrated) are encased in lemon-coloured kids, new, or cleaned daily. Parentheti- cally, let us ask why so many men, with coarse red wrists and big hands, persist in the white kid glove and wrist- band system? Baroski's gloves alone must cost him a little fortune; only he says with a leer, when asked the question, " Get along vid you; don't you know dere is a 308 MEN'S WIVES gloveress that lets me have dem very sheap? " He rides in the Park ; has splendid lodgings in Dover Street ; and is a member of the " Regent Club," where he is a great source of amusement to the members, to whom he tells astonishing stories of his successes with the ladies, and for whom he has always play and opera tickets in store. His eye glistens and his little heart beats when a lord speaks to him; and he has been known to spend large sums of money in giving treats to young sprigs of fash- ion at Richmond and elsewhere. " In my bolyticks," he says, " I am consarevatifF to de bag-bone." In fine, he is a puppy, and withal a man of considerable genius in his profession. This gentleman then undertook to complete the mu- sical education of Mrs. Walker. He expressed himself at once " enshanted vid her gababilities," found that the extent of her voice was " brodigious," and guaranteed that she should become a first-rate singer. The pupil was apt, the master was exceedingly skilful; and, ac- cordingly, Mrs. Walker's progress was very remarkable : although, for her part, honest Mrs. Crump, who used to attend her daughter's lessons, would grumble not a little at the new system, and the endless exercises which she, Morgiana, was made to go through. It was very differ- ent in her time, she said. Incledon knew no music, and who could sing so well now? Give her a good English ballad ; it was a thousand times sweeter than your " Fi- garos " and " Semiramides." In spite of these objections, however, and with amaz- ing perseverance and cheerfulness, Mrs. Walker pur- sued the method of study pointed out to her by her mas- ter. As soon as her husband went to the City in the morning her operations began; if he remained away at THE RAVENSWING 309 dinner, her labours still continued : nor is it necessary for me to particularize her course of study, nor, indeed, pos- sible; for, between ourselves, none of the male Fitz- Boodles ever could sing a note, and the jargon of scales and solfeggios is quite unknown to me. But as no man can have seen persons addicted to music without remark- ing the prodigious energies they display in the pursuit, as there is no father of daughters, however ignorant, but is aware of the piano-rattling and voice-exercising which goes on in his house from morning till night, so let all fancy, without further inquiry, how the heroine of our story was at this stage of her existence occupied. Walker was delighted with her progress, and did everything but pay Baroski, her instructor. We know why he didn't pay. It was his nature not to pay bills, ex- cept on extreme compulsion; but why did not Baroski employ that extreme compulsion? Because, if he had re- ceived his money, he would have lost his pupil, and be- cause he loved his pupil more than money. Rather than lose her, he would have given her a guinea as well as her cachet. He would sometimes disappoint a great per- sonage, but he never missed his attendance on her; and the truth must out, that he was in love with her, as Woolsey and Eglantine had been before. " By the immortel Chofe! " he would say, " dat Ictell ding sents me mad vid her big ice! But only vait avile: in six veeks I can bring any voman in England on her knees to me ; and you shall see vat I vill do vid my Mor- giana." He attended her for six weeks punctually, and yet Morgiana was never brought down on her knees ; he exhausted his best stock of " gomblimends," and she never seemed disposed to receive them with anything but laughter. And, as a matter of course, he only grew more 310 MEN'S WIVES infatuated with the lovely creature who was so provok- ingly good-humoured and so laughingly cruel. Benjamin Baroski was one of the chief ornaments of the musical profession in London; he charged a guinea for a lesson of three-quarters of an hour abroad, and he had, furthermore, a school at his own residence, where pupils assembled in considerable numbers, and of that curious mixed kind which those may see who frequent these places of instruction. There were very innocent young ladies with their mammas, who would hurry them off trembling to the farther corner of the room when cer- tain doubtful professional characters made their appear- ance. There was Miss Grigg, who sang at the " Found- ling," and Mr. Johnson, who sang at the " Eagle Tav- ern," and Madame Fioravanti (a very doubtful char- acter), who sang nowhere, but was always coming out at the Italian Opera. There was Lumley Limpiter (Lord Tweedledale's son) , one of the most accomplished tenors in town, and who, we have heard, sings with the professionals at a hundred concerts; and with him, too, was Captain Guzzard of the Guards, with his tremen- dous bass voice, which all the world declared to be as fine as Porto's, and who shared the applause of Baroski's school with Mr. Bulger, the dentist of Sackville Street, who neglected his ivory and gold plates for his voice, as every unfortunate individual will do who is bitten by the music mania. Then among the ladies there were a half- score of dubious pale governesses and professionals with turned frocks and lank damp bandeaux of hair under shabby little bonnets ; luckless creatures these, who were parting with their poor little store of half -guineas to be enabled to say they were pupils of Signor Baroski, and THE RAVENSWING 311 so get pupils of their own among the British youths, or employment in the choruses of the theatres. The prima donna of the little company was Amelia Larkins, Baroski's own articled pupil, on whose future reputation the eminent master staked his own, whose profits he was to share, and whom he had farmed, to this end, from her father, a most respectable sheriff's officer's assistant, and now, by his daughter's exertions, a consid- erable capitalist. Amelia is blonde and blue-eyed, her complexion is as bright as snow, her ringlets of the colour of straw, her figure — but why describe her figure? Has not all the world seen her at the Theatres Royal and in America under the name of Miss Ligonier? Until INIrs. Walker arrived. Miss Larkins was the un- disputed princess of the Baroski company — the Semira- mide, the Rosina, the Tamina, the Donna Anna. Ba- roski vaunted her everywhere as the great rising genius of the day, bade Catalina look to her laurels, and ques- tioned whether ISliss Stephens could sing a ballad like his pupil. iNIrs. Howard Walker arrived, and created, on the first occasion, no small sensation. She improved, and the little society became speedily divided into Walk- erites and Larkinsians; and between these two ladies (as, indeed, between Guzzard and Bulger before mentioned, between Miss Brunck and Miss Horsman, the two con- traltos, and between the chorus-singers, after their kind) a great rivalry arose. Larkins was certainly the better singer; but could her straw-coloured curls and dumpy high-shouldered figure bear any comparison with the jetty ringlets and stately form of Morgiana? Did not ]VIrs. Walker, too, come to the music-lesson in her car- riage, and with a black velvet gown and Cashmere shawl, 312 MEN'S WIVES while poor Larkins meekly stepped from Bell Yard, Temple Bar, in an old print gown and clogs, which she left in the hall? " Larkins sing! " said Mrs. Crump, sar- castically; " I'm sure she ought; her mouth's big enough to sing a duet." Poor Larkins had no one to make epi- grams in her behoof ; her mother was at home tending the younger ones, her father abroad following the duties of his profession ; she had but one protector, as she thought, and that one was Baroski. Mrs. Crump did not fail to tell Lumley Limpiter of her own former triumphs, and to sing him " Tink-a-tink," which we have previously heard, and to state how in former days she had been called the Ravenswing. And Lumley, on this hint, made a poem, in which he compared Morgiana's hair to the plumage of the Raven's wing, and Larkinissa's to that of the ca- nary; by which two names the ladies began soon to be known in the school. Ere long, the flight of the Ravenswing became evi- dently stronger, whereas that of the canary was seen evi- dently to droop. When Morgiana sang, all the room would cry " bravo; " when Amelia performed, scarce a hand was raised for applause of her, except Morgiana's own, and that the Larkinses thought was lifted in odious triumph, rather than in sympathy, for Miss L. was of an envious turn, and little understood the generosity of her rival. At last, one day, the crowning victory of the Ravens- wing came. In the trio of Baroski's own opera of " Elio- gabalo," " Rosy lips and rosy wine," Miss Larkins, who was evidently unwell, was taking the part of the English captive, which she had sung in public concerts before royal dukes, and with considerable applause, and, from some reason, performed it so ill, that Baroski, slapping THE RAVENSWING 313 down the music on the piano in a fury, cried, " Mrs. Howard Walker, as JNliss Larkins cannot sing to-da}% will you favour us by taking the part of Boadicetta? " JNlrs. Walker got up smilingly to obey— the triumph was too great to be withstood; and, as she advanced to the piano, ]\Iiss Larkins looked wildly at her, and stood silent for awhile, and, at last, shrieked out, " Benjamin! " in a tone of extreme agony, and dropped fainting down on the ground. Benjamin looked extremely red, it must be confessed, at being thus called by what we shall de- nominate his Christian name, and Limpiter looked round at Guzzard, and Miss Brunck nudged JNIiss Horsman, and the lesson concluded rather abruptly that day; for Miss Larkins was carried off to the next room, laid on a couch, and sprinkled with water. Good-natured Morgiana insisted that her mother should take INIiss Larkins to Bell Yard in her carriage, and went herself home on foot; but I don't know that this piece of kindness prevented Larkins from hating her. I should doubt if it did. Hearing so much of his wife's skill as a singer, the as- tute Captain Walker determined to take advantage of it for the purpose of increasing his " connection." He had Lumley Limpiter at his house before long, which was, indeed, no great matter, for honest Lum would go any- where for a good dinner, and an opportunity to show off his voice afterwards, and Ijimiley was begged to bring any more clerks in the Treasury of his acquaintance; Captain Guzzard was invited, and any officers of the Guards whom he might choose to bring; Bulger received occasional cards:, — in a M'ord, and after a short time, Mrs. Howard Walker's musical parties began to be consider- ably suivies. Her husband had the satisfaction to see his 314 MEN'S WIVES rooms filled by many great personages ; and once or twice in return (indeed, whenever she was wanted, or when people could not afford to hire the first singers) she was asked to parties elsewhere, and treated with that killing civility which our English aristocracy knows how to be- stow on artists. Clever and wise aristocracy ! It is sweet to mark your ways, and study your commerce with in- ferior men. I was just going to commence a tirade regarding the aristocracy here, and to rage against that cool assump- tion of superiority which distinguishes their lordships' commerce with artists of all sorts : that politeness which, if it condescend to receive artists at all, takes care to have them altogether, so that there can be no mistake about their rank— that august patronage of art which rewards it with a silly flourish of knighthood, to be sure, but takes care to exclude it from any contact with its betters in society, — I was, I say, just going to commence a tirade against the aristocracy for excluding artists from their company, and to be extremely satirical upon them, for instance, for not receiving my friend Morgiana, when it suddenly came into my head to ask, was Mrs. Walker fit to move in the best society? — to which query it must humbly be replied that she was not. Her education was not such as to make her quite the equal of Baker Street. She was a kind, honest, and clever creature, but, it must be confessed, not refined. Wherever she went she had, if not the finest, at any rate the most showy gown. in the room ; her ornaments were the biggest : her hats, toques, berets, marabouts, and other fallals, always the most con- spicuous. She drops " h's " here and there. I have seen her eat pease with a knife ( and Walker, scowding on the opposite side of the table, striving in vain to catch her THE RAVENSWING 315 eye) ; and I shall never forget Lady Smigsmag's horror when she asked for porter at dinner at Richmond, and began to drink it out of the pewter pot. It was a fine sight. She lifted up the tankard with one of the finest arms, covered with the biggest bracelets ever seen; and had a bird of paradise on her head, that curled round the pewter disk of the pot as she raised it, like a halo. These peculiarities she had, and has still. She is best away from the genteel world, that is the fact. When she says that " The weather is so 'ot that it is quite debiliating; " when she laughs, when she hits her neighbour at dinner on the side of the waistcoat (as she will if he should say anything that amuses her), she does what is perfectly natural and unaffected on her part, but what is not cus- tomarily done among polite persons, who can sneer at her odd manners and her vanity, but don't know the kindness, honesty, and simplicity which distinguish her. This point being admitted, it follows, of course, that the tirade against the aristocracy would, in the present in- stance, be out of place— so it shall be reserved for some other occasion. The Ravenswing was a person admirably disposed by nature to be happy. She had a disposition so kindly that any small attention would satisfy it; was pleased when alone ; was delighted in a crowd ; was charmed with a joke, however old; was always ready to laugh, to sing, to dance, or to be merry ; was so tender-hearted that the smallest ballad would make her cry, and hence was sup- posed, by many persons, to be extremely affected, and l3y almost all, to be a downright coquette. Several com- petitors for her favour presented themselves besides Baroski. Young dandies used to canter round her phae- ton in the park, and might be seen haunting her doors in 316 MEN'S WIVES the mornings. The fashionable artist of the day made a drawing of her, which was engraved and sold in the shops; a copy of it was printed in a song, " Black-eyed Maiden of Araby," the words by Desmond Mulligan, Esq., the music composed and dedicated to Mrs. How- ard Walker, by her most faithful and obliged servant, Benjamin Baroski; and at night her Opera-box was full. Her Opera-box? Yes, the heiress of the "Bootjack" actually had an Opera-box, and some of the most fash- ionable manhood of London attended it. Now, in fact, was the time of her greatest prosperity ; and her husband gathering these fashionable characters about him, extended his " agency " considerably, and be- gan to thank his stars that he had married a woman who was as good as a fortune to him. In extending his agency, however, Mr. Walker in- creased his expenses proportionately, and multiplied his debts accordingly. More furniture and more plate, more wines and more dinner-parties, became necessary; the little pony-phaeton was exchanged for a brougham of evenings; and we may fancy our old friend Mr. Eg- lantine's rage and disgust, as he looked up from the pit of the Opera, to see Mrs. Walker surrounded by what he called " the swell young nobs " about London, bow- ing to my lord, and laughing with his grace, and led to her carriage by Sir John. The Ravenswing's position at this period was rather an exceptional one. She was an honest woman, visited by that peculiar class of our aristocracy who chiefly asso- ciate with ladies who are not honest. She laughed with all, but she encouraged none. Old Crump was con- stantly at her side now when she appeared in public, the most watchful of mammas, always awake at the THE RAVENSWING 317 Opera, though she seemed to be always asleep; but no dandy debauchee could deceive her vigilance, and for this reason, Walker, who disliked her, (as every man naturally will, must, and should dislike his mother-in- law,) was contented to suffer her in his house to act as a chaperon to JNIorgiana. None of the j^oung dandies ever got admission of mornings to the little mansion in the Edgeware Road; the blinds were always down; and though you might hear JNIorgiana's voice half across the Park as she was practising, yet the youthful hall-porter in the sugar-loaf buttons was instructed to denj^ her, and always declared that his mistress was gone out, with the most admirable assurance. After some two years of her life of splendour, there were, to be sure, a good number of morning visitors, who came with single knocks, and asked for Captain Walker ; but these were no more admitted than the dandies afore- said, and were referred, generally, to the Captain's office, whither they went or not at their convenience. The only man who obtained admission into the house was Baroski, whose cab transported him thrice a week to the neigh- bourhood of Connaught Square, and who obtained ready entrance in his professional capacity. But even then, and much to the wicked little music- master's disappointment, the dragon Crump was always at the piano with her endless worsted work, or else read- ing her unfailing Sunday Tiines; and Baroski could only employ " de langvitch of de ice," as he called it, with his fair pupil, who used to mimic his manner of rolling his eyes about afterwards, and perform " Baroski in love," for the amusement of her husband and her mamma. The former had his reasons for overlooking the attentions of 318 MEN'S WIVES the little music-master ; and as for the latter, had she not been on the stage, and had not many hundreds of per- sons, in jest or earnest, made love to her? What else can a pretty woman expect, who is much before the pub- lic? And so the worthy mother counselled her daughter to bear these attentions with good humour, rather than to make them a subject of perpetual alarm and quarrel. Baroski, then, w^as allowed to go on being in love, and was never in the least disturbed in his passion ; and if he was not successful, at least the little wretch could have the pleasure of hinting that he was, and looking particu- larly roguish when the Ravenswing was named, and as- suring his friends at the club, that " upon his vort dere vas no trut in dat rebort." At last one day it happened that Mrs. Crump did not arrive in time for her daughter's lesson (perhaps it rained, and the omnibus was full— a smaller circum- stance than that has changed a whole life ere now) — Mrs. Crump did not arrive, and Baroski did, and Morgiana, seeing no great harm, sat down to her lesson as usual, and in the midst of it down went the music-master on his knees, and made a declaration in the most eloquent terms he could muster. " Don't be a fool, Baroski! " said the lady— (I can't help it if her language was not more choice, and if she did not rise with cold dignity, exclaiming, " Unhand me, sir! ") — " don't be a fool! " said Mrs. Walker, " but get up and let's finish the lesson." " You hard-hearted adorable little greature, vil you not listen to me? " " No, I vill not listen to you, Benjamin! " concluded the lady ; " get up and take a chair, and don't go on in that ridiklous way, don't! " THE RAVENSWING 319 But Baroski, having a speech by heart, determined to deliver himself of it in that posture, and begged Mor- giana not to turn avay her divine hice, and to listen to de voice of his despair, and so forth; he seized the lady's hand, and was going to press it to his lips, when she said, with more spirit, perhaps, than grace, — " Leave go my hand, sir; I'll box your ears if you don't!" But Baroski wouldn't release her hand, and was pro- ceeding to imprint a kiss upon it, and Mrs. Crump, who had taken the omnibus at a quarter past twelve instead of that at twelve, had just opened the drawing-room door and was walking in, when Morgiana, turning as red as a peony, and unable to disengage her left hand which the musician held, raised up her right hand, and, w4th all her might and main, gave her lover such a tremendous slap in the face as caused him abruptly to release the hand which he held, and would have laid him prostrate on the carpet but for Mrs. Crump, who rushed forward and prevented him from falling by administering right and left a whole shower of slaps, such as he had never endured since the day he was at school. "What imperence!" said that worthy lady; "you'll lay hands on my daughter will j^ou? (one, two) . You'll insult a woman in distress, will you, you little coward? (one, two). Take that, and mind your manners, you filthy monster! " Baroski bounced up in a fury. " By Chofe, you shall hear of dis ! " shouted he ; " you shall pay me dis ! " " As many more as you please, little Benjamin," cried the widow. "Augustus" (to the page), "was that the Captain's knock? " At this Baroski made for his hat. "Augustus, show this imperence to the door, and if he 320 MEN'S WIVES tries to come in again, call a policeman: do you hear? " The music-master vanished very rapidly, and the two ladies, instead of being frightened or falling into hys- terics as their betters would have done, laughed at the odious monster's discomfiture, as they called him. " Such a man as that set himself up against my Howard! " said Morgiana, wdth becoming pride; but it was agreed be- tween them that Howard should know nothing of what had occurred, for fear of quarrels, or lest he should be annoyed. So when he came home not a word was said; and only that his wife met him with more warmth than usual, you could not have guessed that anything ex- traordinary had occurred. It is not my fault that my heroine's sensibilities were not more keen, that she had not the least occasion for sal-volatile or symptom of a fainting fit; but so it was, and Mr. Howard Walker knew nothing of the quarrel between his wife and her instructor, until .... Until he was arrested next day at the suit of Benja- min Baroski for two hundred and twenty guineas, and, in default of payment, was conducted by Mr. Tobias Larkins to his principal's lock-up house in Chancery Lane. CHAPTER V IN WHICH MR. WALKER FALLS INTO DIFFICULTIES, AND MRS. WALKER MAKES MANY FOOLISH ATTEMPTS TO RESCUE HIM HOPE the beloved reader is not silly enough to imagine that ]Mr. Walker, on finding himself in- spunged for debt in Chancery Lane, was so foolish as I THE RAVENSWING 321 to think of applying to any of his friends (those great personages who have appeared every now and then in the course of this httle history, and have served to give it a fashionable air). No, no; he knew the world too well: and that, though Billingsgate would give him as many dozen of claret as he could carry away under his belt, as the phrase is (I can't help it, Madam, if the phrase is not more genteel) , and though Vauxhall would lend him his carriage, slap him on the back, and dine at his house; their lordships would have seen Mr. Walker depending from a beam in front of the Old Bailey rather than have helped him to a hundred pounds. And why, forsooth, should we expect otherwise in the world? I observe that men who complain of its selfish- ness are quite as selfish as the world is, and no more liberal of money than their neighbours; and I am quite sure with regard to Captain Walker that he would have treated a friend in want exactly as he when in want was treated. There was only his lady who was in the least afflicted by his captivity; and as for the club, that went on, we are bound to say, exactly as it did on the day pre- vious to his disappearance. By the way, about clubs — could we not, but for fear of detaining the fair reader too long, enter into a whole- some dissertation here, on the manner of friendship es- tablished in those institutions, and the noble feeling of selfishness which they are likely to encourage in the male race? I put out of the question the stale topics of complaint, such as leaving home, encouraging gorman- dising and luxurious habits, &c. ; but look also at the dealings of club-men witli one another. Tjook at the rush for the evening paper! See how Shiverton orders a fire in the dog-days, and Swettenham opens the win- 322 MEN'S WIVES ' dows in Februaiy. See how Cramley takes the whole breast of the turkey on his ^^late, and how many times Jenkins sends away his beggarly half -pint of sherry! Clubbery is organised egotism. Club intimacy is care- fully and wonderfully removed from friendship. You meet Smith for twenty years, exchange the day's news with him, laugh with him over the last joke, grow as well acquainted as two men may be together — and one day, at the end of the list of members of the club, you read in a little paragraph by itself, with all the honours, MEMBER DECEASED. Smith, John, Esq. or he, on the other hand, has the advantage of reading your own name selected for a similar typographical dis- tinction. There it is, that abominable little exclusive list at the end of every club-catalogue — you can't avoid it. I belong to eight clubs my:^elf, and know that one year Fitz-Boodle, George Savage, Esq. (unless it should please fate to remove my brother and his six sons, when of course it would be Fitz-Boodle, Sir George Savage, Bart.) will appear in the dismal category. There is that list; down I must go in it: — the day will come, and I shan't be seen in the bow-window, some one else will be sitting in the vacant arm-chair: the rubber will begin as usual, and yet somehow Fitz will not be there. " Where's Fitz? " says Trumpington, just arrived from the Rhine. "Don't you know?" saj^s Punter, turning down his thumb to the carpet. " You led the club, I think? " says RufF to his partner (the other partner!), and the waiter snuffs the candles. *.^ iS^ ije, lie, jjf, 'T* I* 'T* 1* ^^ ^ ^ * ^ ^ iK THE RAVENSWING 323 I hope in the course of the above Httle pause, every single member of a club who reads this has profited b}^ the perusal. He may belong, I say, to eight clubs, he will die and not be missed by any of the five thousand members. Peace be to him ; the waiters will forget him, and his name will pass away, and another great-coat wull hang on the hook whence his own used to be de- pendent. And this, I need not say, is the beauty of the club- institutions. If it were otherwise, — if, forsooth, we were to be sorry when our friends died, or to draw out our purses when our friends were in want, we should be in- solvent, and life would be miserable. Be it ours to but- ton up our pockets and our hearts; and to make merry- it is enough to swim down this life-stream for ourselves ; if Poverty is clutching hold of our heels, or Friendship would catch an arm, kick them both off. Every man for himself, is the word, and plenty to do too. My friend Captain Walker had practised the above maxims so long and resolutely as to be quite aware when he came himself to be in distress, that not a single soul in the whole universe would help him, and he took his measures accordingly. When carried to Mr. Bendigo's lock-up house, he summoned that gentleman in a very haughty way, took a blank banker's cheque out of his pocket-book, and fill- ing it up for the exact sum of the writ, orders Mr. Ben- digo forthwith to open the door and let him go forth. Mr. Bendigo, smiling with exceeding archness, and putting a finger covered all over with diamond rings to his extremely aquiline nose, inquired of INIr. Walker whether he saw anything green about his face? intimating by this gay and good-humoured interrogatory his suspi- 324 MEN'S WIVES cion of the unsatisfactory nature of the document handed over to him by Mr. Walker. " Hang it, sir! " says Mr. Walker, " go and get the cheque cashed, and be quick about it. Send your man in a cab, and here's a half-crown to pay for it." The con- fident air somewhat staggers the bailiff, who asked him whether he would like any refreshment while his man was absent getting the amount of the cheque, and treated his prisoner with great civility during the time of the messenger's journey. OBut as Captain Walker had but a balance of two pounds five and twopence (this sum was afterwards di- vided among his creditors, the law expenses being pre- viously deducted from it) , the bankers of course declined to cash the Captain's draft for two hundred and odd pounds, simply writing the words " no effects " on the paper ; on receiving which reply Walker, far from being cast down, burst out laughing very gaily, produced a real five-pound note, and called upon his host for a bottle of champagne, which the two worthies drank in perfect friendship and good-humour. The bottle was scarcely finished, and the young Israelitish gentleman who acts as waiter in Cursitor Street had only time to remove the flask and the glasses, when poor Morgiana with a flood of tears rushed into her husband's arms, and flung her- self on his neck, and calling him her " dearest, blessed Howard," would have fainted at his feet; but that he, breaking out in a fury of oaths, asked her how, after get- ting him into that scrape through her infernal extrava- gance, she dared to show her face before him ? This ad- dress speedily frightened the poor thing out of her faint- ing fit— there is nothing so good for female hysterics as a little conjugal sternness, nay brutality, as many hus- THE RAVEN SWING 325 bands can aver who are in the habit of employing the remedy. "My extravagance, Howard?" said she, in a faint way ; and quite put off her purpose of swooning by the sudden attack made upon her — " Surely, my love, j^ou have nothing to complain of — " " To complain of, ma'am? " roared the excellent Walker. " Is two hundred guineas to a music-master nothing to complain of? Did j^ou bring me such a for- tune as to authorise your taking guinea lessons? Haven't I raised you out of your sphere of life and introduced you to the best of the land? Haven't I dressed you like a duchess? Haven't I been for you such a husband as very few women in the world ever had, madam? — answer me that." " Indeed, Howard, you were always very kind," sobbed the lady. " Haven't I toiled and slaved for you, — been out all day working for you? Haven't I allowed your vulgar old mother to come to your house — to my house, I say? Haven't I done all this? " She could not deny it, and Walker, who was in a rage (and when a man is in a rage, for what on earth is a wife made for but that he should vent his rage on her?) , con- tinued for some time in this strain, and so abused, fright- ened, and overcame poor Morgiana, that she left her hus- band fully convinced that she was the most guilty of beings, and bemoaning his double bad fortune, that her Howard was ruined and she the cause of his misfortunes. When she was gone, Mr. Walker resumed his ecpia- nimity (for he was not one of those men whom a few months of the King's Bench were likely to terrify), and drank several glasses of punch in company with Iiis host; 326 MEN'S WIVES with whom in perfect cahnness he talked over his affairs. That he intended to pay his debt and quit the spunging- house next day is a matter of course; no one ever was yet put in a spunging-house that did not pledge his ve- racity he intended to quit it to-morrow. Mr. Bendigo said he should be heartily glad to open the door to him, and in the meantime sent out diligently to see among his friends if there were any more detainers against the Cap- tain, and to inform the Captain's creditors to come for- ward against him. Morgiana went home in profound grief, it may be im- agined, and could hardly refrain from bursting into tears when the sugar-loaf page asked whether master was coming home early, or whether he had taken his key ; she lay awake tossing and wretched the whole night, and very early in the morning rose up, and dressed, and went out. Before nine o'clock she was in Cursitor Street, and once more joyfully bounced into her husband's arms; who woke up yawning and swearing somewhat, with a severe headache, occasioned by the jollification of the previous night: for, strange though it may seem, there are perhaps no places in Europe where jollity is more practised than in prisons for debt ; and I declare for my own part (I mean, of course, that I went to visit a friend) I have dined at Mr. Aminadab's as sumptuously as at Long's. But it is necessary to account for IMorgiana's joyful- ness; which was strange in her husband's perplexity, and after her sorrow of the previous night. Well, then, when Mrs. Walker went out in the morning, she did so with a very large basket under her arm. " Shall I carry the THE RAVEXSWING 327 basket, ma'am?" said the page, seizing it with much alacrit5\ " No, thank you," cried his mistress, with equal eager- ness; " it's only—" " Of course, ma'am," replied the boy, sneering, " I knew it was that." " Glass," continued INIrs. Walker, turning extremely red. " Have the goodness to call a coach, sir, and not to speak till you are questioned." The young gentleman disappeared upon his errand: the coach was called and came. :Mrs. Walker slipped into it with her basket, and the page went downstairs to his companions in the kitchen, and said, " It's a comin'! master's in quod, and missus has gone out to pawn the plate." When the cook went out that day, she somehow had by mistake placed in her basket a dozen of table- knives and a plated egg-stand. When the lady's-maid took a walk in the course of the afternoon, she found she had occasion for eight cambric pocket-handkerchiefs (marked with her mistress's cipher) , half-a-dozen pair of shoes, gloves, long and short, some silk stockings, and a gold-headed scent-bottle. " Both the new cashmeres is gone," said she, " and there's nothing left in INIrs. Walk- er's trinket-box but a paper of pins and an old coral bracelet." As for the page, he rushed incontinently to his master's dressing-room and examined every one of the pockets of his clothes ; made a parcel of some of them, and opened all the drawers which Walker had not locked before his departure. He only found three-half-pence and a bill-stamp, and about forty-five tradesmen's ac- counts, neatly labelled and tied up with red tape. These three worthies, a groom, who was a great admirer of 328 MEN'S WIVES Trimmer the lady's-maid, and a policeman, a friend of the cook's, sat down to a comfortable dinner at the usual hour, and it was agreed among them all that Walker's ruin was certain. The cook made the policeman a pres- ent of a china punch-bowl which Mrs. Walker had given her; and the lady's-maid gave her friend the " Book of Beauty " for last year, and the third volume of Byron's poems from the drawing-room table. " I'm dash'd if she ain't taken the little French clock, too," said the page, and so indeed Mrs. Walker had; it slipjDcd in the basket where it lay enveloped in one of her shawls, and then struck madly and unnaturally a great number of times, as Morgiana was lifting her store of treasures out of the hackney-coach. The coachman wagged his head sadly as he saw her walking as quick as she could under her heavy load, and disappearing round the corner of the street at Avhich Mr. Balls' celebrated jewellery establishment is situated. It is a grand shop, with magnificent silver cups and salvers, rare gold- headed canes, flutes, watches, diamond brooches, and a few fine specimens of the old masters in the window, and under the words — Balls, Jeweller, you read. Money Lent. in the very smallest type on the door. The interview with Mr. Balls need not be described; but it must have been a satisfactory one, for at the end of half an hour Morgiana returned and bounded into the coach with sparkling eyes, and told the driver to gallop to Cursitor Street; which, smiling, he promised to do, and accordingly set off in that direction at the rate of THE RAVENSWING 329 four miles an hour. " I thought so," said the philosophic charioteer. " When a man's in quod, a woman don't mind her silver spoons; " and he was so delighted with her action, that he forgot to grumble when she came to settle accounts with him, even though she gave him only double his fare. " Take me to him," said she to the young Hebrew who opened the door. "To whom?" says the sarcastic youth; "there's twenty hims here. You're precious early." " To Captain Walker, young man," replied Morgiana haughtily; whereupon the youth opening the second door, and seeing Mr. Bendigo in a flowered dressing- gown descending the stairs exclaimed, " Papa, here's a lady for the Captain." " I'm come to free him," said she, trembling and holding out a bundle of bank-notes. " Here's the amount of your claim, sir— two hundred and twenty guineas, as you told me last night." The Jew took the notes, and grinned as he looked at her, and grinned double as he looked at his son, and begged ^Irs. Walker to step into his study and take a receipt. When the door of that apartment closed upon the lady and his father, Mr. Bendigo the younger fell back in an agony of laughter, which it is impossible to describe in words, and presently ran out into a court where some of the luckless inmates of the house were already taking the air, and communicated something to them which made those in- dividuals also laugh as uproariously as he had previously done. Well, after joyfully taking the receipt from Mr. Ben- digo (how her cheeks flushed and her heart fluttered as she dried it on the blotting-book!) , and after turning very pale again on hearing that the Captain had had a 330 MEN'S WIVES very bad night; " And well he might, poor dear! " said she (at which Mr. Bendigo, having no person to grin at, grinned at a marble bust of Mr. Pitt, which ornamented his side-board) — Morgiana, I say, these preliminaries being concluded, was conducted to her husband's apart- ment, and once more flinging her arms round her dear- est Howard's neck, told liim, with one of the sweet- est smiles in the world, to make haste and get up and come home, for breakfast was w^aiting and the carriage at the door. " What do you mean, love? " said the Captain, start- ing up and looking exceedingly surprised. " I mean that my dearest is free; that the odious little creature is paid — at least the horrid bailiif is." " Have you been to Baroski? " said Walker, turning very red. " Howard! " said his wife, quite indignant. " Did — did your mother give you the money? " asked the Captain. " No; I had it by me," replies INIrs. Walker, with a very knowing look. Walker was more surprised than ever. " Have you any more money by you? " said he. Mrs. Walker showed him her purse with two guineas ; " That is all, love," she said. " And I wish," continued she, " you would give me a draft to pay a whole list of little bills that have somehow all come in within the last few days." " Well, well, you shall have the cheque," continued Mr. Walker, and began forthwith to make his toilet, which completed, he rung for Mr. Bendigo, and his bill, and intimated his wish to go home directly. THE RAVENSWING 331 The honoured bailiff brought the bill, but with regard to his being free, said it was impossible. " How impossible? " said Mrs. Walker, turning very red and then very pale. " Did I not pay just now? " " So you did, and you've got the reshipt; but there's another detainer against the Captain for a hundred and fifty. Eglantine and Mossrose, of Bond Street;— per- fumery for five years, you know." " You don't mean to say you were such a fool as to pay without asking if there were any more detainers? " roared Walker to his wife. " Yes she was though," chuckled ^Ir. Bendigo; " but she'll know better the next time: and, besides. Captain, what's a hundred and fifty pounds to you? " Though Walker desired nothing so much in the world at that moment as the liberty to knock down his wife, his sense of prudence overcame his desire for justice: if that feeling may be called prudence on his part, which con- sisted in a strong wish to cheat the bailiff into the idea that he (Walker) was an exceedingly respectable and wealthy man. JNIany worthy persons indulge in this fond notion, that they are imposing upon the world; strive to fancy, for instance, that their bankers consider them men of property because they keep a tolerable bal- ance, pay little tradesmen's bills with ostentatious punc- tuality, and so forth, — but the world, let us be pretty sure, is as wise as need be, and guesses our real condition with a marvellous instinct, or learns it with curious skill. The London tradesman is one of the keenest judges of human nature extant; and if a tradesman, how much more a bailiff? In reply to the ironic question, " What's a hundred and fifty pounds to you? " Walker, collecting 332 MEN'S WIVES himself, answers, " It is an infamous imposition, and I owe the money no more than you do ; but, nevertheless, I shall instruct my lawyers to pay it in the course of the morning: under protest, of course." " Oh, of course," said Mr. Bendigo, bowing and quit- ting the room, and leaving Mrs. Walker to the pleasure of a tete-a-tete with her husband. And now being alone with the partner of his bosom, the worthy gentleman began an address to her which can- not be put down on paper here ; because the world is ex- ceedingl}^ squeamish, and does not care to hear the whole truth about rascals, and because the fact is that almost every other word of the Captain's speech was a curse, such as would shock the beloved reader were it put in print. Fancy, then, in lieu of the conversation, a scoundrel disappointed and in a fury, wreaking his brutal revenge upon an amiable woman, who sits trembling and pale, and wondering at this sudden exhibition of wrath. Fancy how he clenches his fists and stands over her, and stamps and screams out curses with a livid face, grow- ing wilder and wilder in his rage; wrenching her hand when she wants to turn away, and only stopping at last when she has fallen off the chair in a fainting fit, with a heart-breaking sob that made the Jew-boy who was lis- tening at the kej^-hole turn quite pale and walk away. Well, it is best, perhaps, that such a conversation should not be told at length : — at the end of it, when Mr. Walker had his wife lifeless on the floor, he seizes a water- jug and poured it over her; which operation prettj" soon brought her to herself, and shaking her black ringlets, she looked up once more again timidly into his face, and took his hand, and began to cry. THE RAVENSWING 333 He spoke now in a somewhat softer voice, and let her keep paddling on with his hand as before; he couldn't speak very fiercely to the poor girl in her attitude of de- feat, and tenderness, and supplication. " Morgiana," said he, " your extravagance and carelessness have brought me to ruin, I'm afraid. If you'd chosen to have gone to Baroski, a word from you would have made him withdraw the writ, and my property wouldn't have been sacrificed, as it has now been, for nothing. It mayn't be yet too late, however, to retrieve ourselves. This bill of Eglantine's is a regular conspiracy, I am sure, between JSIossrose and Bendigo here: you must go to Eglantine — he's an old — an old flame of yours, you know." She dropped his hand; " I can't go to Eglantine after what has passed between us," she said ; but Walker's face instantly began to wear a certain look, and she said with a shudder, " Well, well, dear, I will go." " You will go to Eglantine, and ask him to take a bill for the amount of this shameful demand — at any date, never mind what. JNIind, however, to see him alone, and I'm sure if you choose you can settle the business. Make haste; set off directly, and come back, as there may be more detain- ers in." Trembling, and in a great flutter, JNIorgiana put on her bonnet and gloves, and went towards the door. " It's a fine morning," said Mr. Walker, looking out: " a walk will do you good; and — Morgiana — didn't you say you had a couple of guineas in your pocket? " " Here it is," said she, smiling all at once, and holding up her face to be kissed. She paid the two guineas for the kiss. Was it not a mean act? " Is it possible that people can love where they do not respect?" says Miss Prim : '' I never would." Nobody asked you, Miss Prim : 334 MEN'S WIVES but recollect Morgiana was not born with your advan- tages of education and breeding ; and was, in fact, a poor vulgar creature, who loved Mr. Walker, not because her mamma told her, nor because he was an exceedingly eli- gible and well-brought-up young man, but because she could not help it, and knew no better. Nor is Mrs. Walker set up as a model of virtue: ah, no! when I want a model of virtue I will call in Baker Street, and ask for a sitting of my dear (if I may be permitted to say so) Miss Prim. We have Mr. Howard Walker safely housed in Mr. Bendigo's establishment in Cursitor Street, Chancery Lane ; and it looks like mockery and want of feeling to- wards the excellent hero of this story, (or, as should rather be said, towards the husband of the heroine,) to say what he might have been but for the unlucky little circumstance of Baroski's passion for Morgiana. If Baroski had not fallen in love with Morgiana, he would not have given her two hundred guineas' worth of lessons ; he would not have so far presumed as to seize her hand, and attempt to kiss it; if he had not attempted to kiss her, she would not have boxed his ears ; he would not have taken out the writ against Walker; Walker would have been free, very possibly rich, and therefore certainly respected: he always said that a month's more liberty would have set him beyond the reach of misfortune. The assertion is very likely a correct one ; for Walker had a flashy, enterprising genius, which ends in wealth sometimes, in the King's Bench not seldom, occasionally, alas, in Van Diemen's Land ! He might liave been rich, could he have kept his credit, and had not his personal expenses and extravagances pulled him down. He liad gallantly availed himself of his wife's fortune ; nor could THE RAVENSWIXG 335 any man in London, as he proudly said, have made five hundred pounds go so far. He had, as we have seen, fur- nished a house, sideboard, and cellar with it ; he had a car- riage, and horses in his stable, and with the remainder he had purchased shares in four companies— of three of which he was founder and director, had conducted in- numerable bargains in the foreign stocks, had lived and entertained sumptuously, and made himself a very con- siderable income. He had set up The Capitol Loan and Life Assurance Company, had discovered the Chim- borazo gold mines, and the Society for Recovering and Draining the Pontine Marshes; capital ten millions; pa- tron His Holiness the Pope. It certainly was stated in an evening paper that His Holiness had made him a Knight of the Spur, and had offered to him the rank of Count ; and he was raising a loan for His Highness the Cacique of Panama, who has sent him (by way of divi- dend) the grand cordon of his Highness's order of the Castle and Falcon, which might be seen any day at his office in Bond Street, with the parchments signed and sealed by the Grand Master and Falcon King-at-Arms of his Highness. In a week more. Walker would have raised a hundred thousand pounds on his Highness's twenty per cent, loan; he would have had fifteen thou- sand pounds commission for himself; his companies would have risen to par, he would have realised his shares; he would have gone into Parliament; he would have been made a baronet, who knows? a peer, probably! "And I ap])eal to you, sir," Walker would say to his friends, " could any man have shown better proof of his affection for his wife, than by laying out her little mis- erable money as I did ? They call me heartless, sir, be- cause I didn't succeed; sir, my life has been a series of 336 MEN'S WIVES sacrifices for that woman, such as no man ever performed before." A proof of Walker's dexterity and capabihty for busi- ness may be seen in the fact that he had actually appeased and reconciled one of his bitterest enemies— our honest friend Eglantine. After Walker's marriage, Eglan- tine, who had now no mercantile dealings with his former agent, became so enraged with him, that, as the only means of revenge in his power, he sent him in his bill for goods supplied to the amount of one hundred and fifty guineas, and sued him for the amount. But Walker stepped boldly over to his enemy, and in the course of half-an-hour they were friends. Eglantine promised to forego his claim ; and accepted in lieu of it three lOOZ. shares of the ex-Panama stock, bearing 25 per cent., payable half-yearly at the house of Hocus Brothers, St. Swithin's Lane; three lOOZ. shares, and the second class of the order of the Castle and Fal- con, with the riband and badge. " In four years. Eglan- tine, my boy, I hope to get you the Grand Cordon of the order," said Walker: " I hope to see you a Knight Grand Cross, with a grant of a hundred thousand acres reclaimed from the Isthmus." To do my poor Eglantine justice, he did not care for the hundred thousand acres— it was the star that de- lighted him: — ah! how his fat chest heaved with delight as he sewed on the cross and riband to his dress coat, and lighted up four wax candles and looked at himself in the glass. He was known to wear a great-coat after that — it was that he might wear the cross under it. That j^ear he went on a trip to Boulogne. He was dreadfullj^ ill during the voyage, but as the vessel entered the port he was seen to emerge from the cabin, his coat open^ the THE RAVENSWING 337 star blazing on his chest; the soldiers saluted him as he walked the streets, he was called jNIonsieur le Chevalier, and when he went home he entered into negotiations with Walker, to purchase a commission in his Highness' s ser- vice. Walker said he would get him the nominal rank of Captain, the fees at the Panama War Office were five- and-twenty pounds, which sum honest Eglantine pro- duced, and had his commission, and a pack of visiting cards printed as Captain Archibald Eglantine, K.C.F. IMany a time he looked at them as they lay in his desk, and he kept the cross in his dressing-table, and wore it as he shaved every morning. His Highness the Cacique, it is well known, came to England, and had lodgings in Regent Street, where he held a levee, at which Eglantine appeared in the Panama uniform, and was most graciously received by his Sover- eign. His Highness proposed to make Captain Eglan- tine his aide-de-camp with the rank of Colonel, but the Captain's exchequer was rather low at that moment, and the fees at the " War-Office " were peremptory. IMean- while his Highness left Regent Street, was said by some to have returned to Panama, by others to be in his native city of Cork, by others to be leading a life of retirement in the Xew Cut, Lambeth ; at any rate was not visible for some time, so that Captain Eglantine's advancement did not take place. Eglantine was somehow ashamed to mention his military and chivalric rank to INIr. Mossrose, when that gentleman came into partnership with him; and left these facts secret, until they were detected by a very painful circumstance. On the very day when Walker was arrested at the suit of Benjamin Baroski, there appeared in the newspapers an account of the im- prisonment of his I Ugliness the Prince of Panama, for a 338 MEN'S WIVES bill owing to a licensed victualler in RatclifF Highway. The magistrate to whom the victualler subsequently came to complain, passed many pleasantries on the occa- sion. He asked whether his Highness did not drink like a swan with two necks; whether he had brought any Belles savages with him from Panama, and so forth ; and the whole court, said the report, " was convulsed with laughter, when Boniface produced a green and yellow riband with a large star of the order of the Castle and Falcon, with which his Highness proposed to gratify him, in lieu of paying his little bill." It was as he was reading the above document with a bleeding heart that Mr. Mossrose came in from his daily walk to the City. " Veil, Eglantine," says he, " have you heard the newsh? " " About his Highness? " "About your friend Valker; he's arrested for two hundred poundsh ! " Eglantine at this could contain no more; but told his story of how he had been induced to accept 300/. of Pa- nama stock for his account against Walker, and cursed his stars for his folly. " Veil, you've only to bring in another bill," said the younger perfumer; " swear he owes you a hundred and fifty pounds, and we'll have a writ out against him this afternoon." And so a second writ was taken out against Captain Walker. " You'll have his wife here very likely in a day or two," said Mr. Mossrose to his partner; " them chaps always sends their wives, and I hope you know how to deal with her." " I don't value her a fig's hend," said Eglantine. " I'll THE RAVENSWING 339 treat her like the dust of the hearth. After that woman's conduct to me, I should like to see her have the haudacity to come here; and if she does, you'll see how I'll serve her." The worthy perfumer was, in fact, resolved to be ex- ceedingly hard-hearted in his behaviour towards his old love, and acted over at night in bed the scene which was to occur when the meeting should take place. Oh, thought he, but it will be a grand thing to see the proud INIorgiana on her knees to me ; and me a pointing to the door; and saying, "Madam, you've steeled this 'eart against you, you have;— bury the recollection of old times, of those old times when I thought my 'eart would have broke, but it didn't— no, 'earts are made of sterner stuff. I didn't die as I thought I should ; I stood it, and live to see the woman I despised at my feet— ha, ha, at my feet! " In the midst of these thoughts Mr. Eglantine fell asleep; but it was evident that the idea of seeing Mor- giana once more, agitated him considerably, else why should he have been at the pains of preparing so much heroism? His sleep was exceedingly fitful and troubled; he saw ISIorgiana in a hundred shapes; he dreamed that he was dressing her hair ; that he was riding with lier to Richmond; that the horse turned into a dragon, and INIorgiana into Woolsey, who took him by the tlu-oat and choked him, while the dragon played the key-bugle. And in the morning when Mossrose was gone to his busi- ness in the City, and he sat reading the Morning Post in his study, ah! what a thump his heart gave as the lady of his dreams actually stood before him! Many a lady who piu'cliascd })ruslies at Eglantine's shop, would have given ten guineas for such a colour as 340 MEN'S WIVES his when he saw her. His heart beat violently, he was al- most choking in his stays: he had been prepared for the visit, but his courage failed him now it had come. They were both silent for some minutes. " You know what I am come for," at last said Mor- giana from under her veil, but she put it aside as she spoke. " I — that is — yes, — it's a painful affair, mem," he said, giving one look at her pale face, and then turning away in a flurry. " I beg to refer you to Blunt, Hone, and Sharpus, my lawyers, mem," he added, collecting him- self. " I didn't expect this from you, Mr. Eglantine," said the lady, and began to sob. " And after what's 'appened, I didn't expect a visit from you, mem. I thought Mrs. Capting Walker was too great a dame to visit poor Harchibald Eglantine (though some of the first men in the country do visit him). Is there anything in which I can oblige you, memf "O heavens!" cried the poor woman; "have I no friend left? I never thought that you, too, would have deserted me, Mr. Archibald." The "Archibald," pronounced in the old way, had evi- dently an effect on the perfumer ; he winced and looked at her very eagerly for a moment. " What can I do for you, mem? " at last said he. " What is this bill against Mr. Walker, for which he is now in prison? " " Perfumery supplied for five years; that man used more 'air-brushes than any duke in the land, and as for Eau de Cologne he must have bathed himself in it. He bordered me about like a lord. He never paid me one THE RAVEN SWIXG 341 shilling,— he stabbed me in my most vital part— but, ah! ah! never mind that: and I said I would be revenged, and IS} a VI. The perfumer was quite in a rage again by this time, and wiped his fat face with his pocket-handkerchief, and glared upon INIrs. Walker with a most determined air. " Revenged on whom? Archibald— Mr. Eglantine, revenged on me— on a poor woman whom you made mis- erable ! You would not have done so once." *' Ha! and a precious way you treated me once'' said Eglantine: " don't talk to me, mem, of once. Bury the recollection of once for hever ! I thought my 'eart would have broke once, but no; 'earts are made of sterner stuff. I didn't die as I thought I should; I stood it— and I live to see the woman who despised me at my feet." " Oh, Archibald! " was all the lady could say, and she fell to sobbing again : it was perhaps her best argument with the perfumer. "Oh, Harchibald, indeed!" continued he, beginning to swell; " don't call me Harchibald, Morgiana. Think what a position you might have held, if you'd chose: when, when— you might have called me Harchibald. Now it's no use," added he, with harrowing pathos; " but, though I've been wronged, I can't bear to see women in tears— tell me what I can do? " " Dear, good Mr. Eglantine, send to your lawyers and stop this horrid prosecution— take I\Ir. Walker's ac- knowledgment for the debt. If he is free, he is sure to have a very large sum of money in a few days, and will pay you all. Do not ruin him— do not ruin me by per- sisting now. Be the old kind Eglantine you were." Eglantine took a hand, which Morgiana did not re- fuse; he thought about old times. He had known her 342 MEN'S WIVES since childhood almost; as a girl he dandled her on his knee at the " Kidneys; " as a woman he had adored her, — his heart was melted. " He did pay me in a sort of way," reasoned the per- fumer with himself—" these bonds, though they are not worth much, I took 'em for better or for worse, and I can't bear to see her crying, and to trample on a woman in distress. INIorgiana," he added, in a loud cheerful voice, " cheer up; I'll give you a release for your hus- band : I will be the old kind Eglantine I was." " Be the old kind jackass you vash! " here roared a voice that made Mr. Eglantine start. " Vy, vat an old fat fool you are. Eglantine, to give up our just debts be- cause a voman comes snivelling and crying to you— and such a voman, too! " exclaimed Mr. Mossrose, for his was the voice. " Such a woman, sir? " cried the senior partner. " Yes; such a woman— vy didn't she jilt you herself? —hasn't she been trying the same game with Baroski; and are you so green as to give up a hundred and fifty pounds because she takes a fancy to come vimpering here? I won't, I can tell you. The money's as much mine as it is yours, and I'll have it, or keep Walker's body, that's what I will." At the presence of his partner, the timid good genius of Eglantine, which had prompted him to mercy and kindness, at once outspread its frightened wings and flew away. " You see how it is, Mrs. W.," said he, looking down; " it's an affair of business— in all these here aff'airs of business Mr. Mossrose is the managing man; ain't you, Mr. Mossrose? " " A pretty business it would be if I wasn't," replied THE RAVEXSWIXG 343 Mossrose, doggedly. " Come, ma'am," says he, "I'll tell you vat I do: I take fifty per shent; not a far- thing less — give me that, and out your husband goes." " Oh, sir, Howard will pay you in a week." " Veil, den let him stop at ni}^ uncle Bendigo's for a week, and come out den — he's very comfortable there," said Shylock with a grin. " Hadn't you better go to the shop, Mr. Eglantine," continued he, " and look after your business ? Mrs. Walker can't want you to listen to her all day." Eglantine ^vvas glad of the excuse, and slunk out of the studio ; not into the shop but into his parlour ; where he drank oiF a great glass of Maraschino, and sat blush- ing and exceedingly agitated, until Mossrose came to tell him that Mrs. W. was gone, and wouldn't trouble him any more. But although he drank several more glasses of JMaraschino, and went to the play that night, and to the cider-cellars afterwards, neither the liquor, nor the play, nor the delightful comic songs at the cellars, could drive Mrs. Walker out of his head, and the memory of old times, and the image of her pale w^eeping face. Morgiana tottered out of the shop, scarcely heeding the voice of Mr. Mossrose, who said, "I'll take forty per shent" (and went back to his duty cursing himself for a soft-hearted fool for giving up so much of his rights to a puling woman). Morgiana, I say, tot- tered out of the shop, and went up Conduit Street, weep- ing, weeping with all her eyes. She was quite faint, for she had taken nothing that morning but the glass of w^ater which the pastry-cook in the Strand had given her, and was forced to take hold of the railings of a house for support, just as a little gentleman with a yellow handkerchief under his arm was issuing from the door. 344 MEN'S WIVES " Good heavens, Mrs. Walker! " said the gentleman. It was no other than JNIr. Woolsey, who was going forth to try a body-coat for a customer; " are you ill?— what's the matter? for God's sake come in! " and he took her arm under his, and led her into his back-parlour, and seated her, and had some wine and water before her in one minute, before she had said one single word regard- ing herself. As soon as she was somewhat recovered, and with the interruption of a thousand sobs, the poor thing told as well as she could her little story. Mr. Eglantine had arrested Mr. Walker: she had been trying to gain time for him ; Eglantine had refused. " The hard-hearted, cowardly brute to refuse her any- thing! " said loyal Mr. Woolsey. " My dear," says he, " I've no reason to love your husband, and I know too much about him to respect him; but I love and respect you, and will spend my last shilling to serve you." At which JMorgiana could only take his hand and cry a great deal more than ever. She said INIr. Walker would have a great deal of money in a week, that he was the best of husbands, and she was sure Mr. Woolsey would think better of him when he knew him; that ]Mr. Eg- lantine's bill was one hundred and fifty pounds, but that Mr. Mossrose would take forty per cent, if Mr. Woolsey could say how much that was. " I'll pay a thousand pound to do you good," said Mr. Woolsey, bouncing up ; " stay here for ten minutes, my dear, until my return, and all shall be right, as you will see." Pie was back in ten minutes, and had called a cab from the stand opposite (all the coachmen there had seen and commented on ]\Irs. Walker's woe-begone looks) , and they were off for Cursitor Street in a mo- THE RAVENSWING 345 ment. " Thej^'U settle the whole debt for twenty pounds," said he, and showed an order to that effect from ]Mr. jNIossrose to ]Mr. Bendigo, empowering the latter to release Walker on receiving Mr. Woolsey's ac- knowledgment for the above sum. ****** " There's no use paying it," said ^Ir. Walker, dog- gedly, " it would only be robbing you, Mr. Woolsey — seven more detainers have come in while my wife has been away. I must go through the court now; but," he added in a whisper to the tailor, " my good sir, my debts of honour are sacred, and if you will have the goodness to lend me the twenty pounds, I pledge j^ou my word as a gentleman to return it when I come out of quod." It is probable that Mr. Woolsey declined this ; for, as soon as he was gone. Walker, in a tremendous fury, be- gan cursing his wife for dawdling three hours on the road. " Why the deuce, ma'am, didn't you take a cab? " roared he, when he heard she had walked to Bond Street. " Those writs have only been in half an hour, and I might have been off but for you." "Oh, Howard," said she, " didn't you take — didn't I give you my — my last shilling? " and fell back and wept again more bitterly than ever. " Well, love," said her amiable husband, turning rather red, " never mind, it wasn't your fault. It is but going through the court. It is no great odds. I forgive you." 346 MEN'S WIVES CHAPTER VI IN WHICH MR. WALKER STILL REMAINS IN DIFFICULTIES, BUT SHOWS GREAT RESIGNATION UNDER HIS MISFORTUNES THE exemplary Walker, seeing that escape from his enemies was hopeless, and that it was his duty as a man to turn on them and face them, now determined to quit the splendid though narrow lodgings which Mr. Bendigo had provided for him, and undergo the martyr- dom of the Fleet. Accordingly, in company with that gentleman, he came over to her IMajesty's prison, and gave himself into the custody of the officers there; and did not apply for the accommodation of the rules (by which in those days the captivity of some debtors was considerably lightened), because he knew perfectly well that there was no person in the wide world who would give a security for the heavy sums for which Walker was answerable. What these sums were is no matter, and on this head we do not think it at all necessary to satisfy the curiosity of the reader. He may have owed hundreds — thousands, his creditors only can tell, he paid the dividend which has been formerly mentioned, and showed thereby his desire to satisfy all claims upon him to the uttermost farthing. As for the little house in Connaught Square, when, after quitting her husband, INIorgiana drove back thither, the door was opened by the page, who instantly thanked her to pay his wages ; and in the drawing-room, on a yellow satin sofa, sat a seedy man (with a pot of porter beside him placed on an album for fear of stain- ing the rosewood table) , and the seedy man signified that THE RAVENSWING 347 he had taken possession of the furniture in execution for a judgment debt. Another seedy man was in the dining- room, reading a newspaper and drinking gin; he in- formed jNIrs. Walker that lie was the representative of another judgment debt and of another execution: — " There's another on 'em in the kitchen," said the page, "taking an inwentory of the furniture; and he swears he'll have you took up for swindling, for pawning the plate." " Sir," said Mr. Woolsey, for that worthy man had conducted JNIorgiana home—" sir," said he, shaking his stick at the young page, " if j^ou give any more of your impudence I'll beat every button off your jacket: " and as there were some four hundred of these ornaments, the page was silent. It was a great mercy for INIorgiana that the honest and faithful tailor had accompanied her. The good fellow had waited very patiently for her for an hour in the parlour or coffee-room of the lock-up house, knowing full well that she would want a pro- tector on her way homewards; and his kindness will be more appreciated when it is stated that, during the time of his delay in the coffee-room, he had been subject to the entreaties, nay, to the insults of Cornet Fipkin of the Blues, who was in prison at the suit of Linsey, Wool- sey, and Co., and who happened to be taking his break- fast in the a]:)artment when his obdurate creditor entered it. The cornet (a hero of eighteen, who stood at least five feet three in his boots, and owed fifteen thousand pounds) was so enraged at the obduracy of liis creditor that he said he would have thrown him out of the window but for the bars which guarded it; and entertained seri- ous thoughts of knocking the tailor's head off, but that the latter, putting his right leg forward and his fists in 348 MEN'S WIVES a proper attitude, told the young officer to "come on; " on which the cornet cursed the tailor for a " snob," and went back to his breakfast. The execution people having taken charge of Mr. Walker's house, Mrs. Walker was driven to take refuge with her mamma near " Sadler's Wells," and the Cap- tain remained comfortably lodged in the Fleet. He had some ready money, and with it managed to make his ex- istence exceedingly comfortable. He lived with the best society of the place, consisting of several distinguished young noblemen and gentlemen. He spent the morning playing at fives and smoking cigars; the evening smok- ing cigars and dining comfortably. Cards came after dinner; and, as the Captain was an experienced player, and near a score of years older than most of his friends, he was generally pretty successful: indeed if he had re- ceived all the money that was owed to him, he might have come out of prison and paid his creditors twenty shillings in the pound — that is, if he had been minded to do so. But there is no use in examining into that point too closely, for the fact is, young Fipkin only paid him forty pounds out of seven hundred, for which he gave him I. O. U.'s; Algernon Deuceace not only did not pay him three hundred and twenty which he lost at blind hookey, but actually borrowed seven and sixpence in money from Walker, which has never been repaid to this day; and Lord Doublequits actually lost nineteen thousand pounds to him at heads and tails, which he never paid, pleading drunkenness and his minority. The reader may recollect a paragraph which went the round of the papers entitled, "Affair of Honour in the Fleet P?7507i.— Yesterday morning (behind the pump in the second court) Lord D-bl-qu-ts and Captain H-w-rd THE RAVENSWING 349 W-lk-r (a near relative, we understand, of His Grace the Duke of N-rf-lk) had a hostile meeting and ex- changed two shots. These two young sprigs of nobility were attended to the ground by ^lajor Flush, who, by the way, is flush no longer, and Captain Pam, late of the Dragoons. Play is said to have been the cause of the quarrel, and the gallant Captain is reported to have handled the noble lord's nose rather roughly at one stage of the transactions." When Morgiana at " Sad- ler's Wells" heard these news, she was ready to faint with terror; and rushed to the Fleet Prison, and em- braced her lord and master with her usual expansion and fits of tears : very much to that gentleman's annoy- ance, who happened to be in company with Pam and Flush at the time, and did not care that his handsome wife should be seen too much in the dubious precincts of the Fleet. He had at least so much shame about him, and had always rejected her entreaties to be allowed to inhabit the prison with him. " It is enough," would he say, casting his eyes heaven- ward, and with a most lugubrious countenance—" it is enough, Morgiana, that I should suffer, even though your thoughtlessness has been the cause of my ruin. But enough of that! I will not rebuke you for faults for which I know you are now repentant ; and I never could bear to see you in the midst of the miseries of this horrible place. Remain at home with your mother, and let me drag on the weary days here alone. If you can get me any more of that pale sherry, my love, do. I require something to cheer me in solitude, and h^ve found my chest very much relieved by that wine. Put more pepper and eggs, my dear, into the next veal-pie you make me. I can't eat the horrible messes in the coffee-room here." 350 MEN'S WIVES It was Walker's wish, I can't tell why, except that i'c is the wish of a great number of other persons in this strange world, to make his wife believe that he was wretched in mind and ill in health; and all assertions to this effect the simple creature received with numberless tears of credulity: she would go home to IMrs. Crump, and say how her darling Howard was pining away, how he was ruined for her, and with what angelic sweetness he bore his captivity. The fact is, he bore it with so much resignation that no other person in the world could see that he was unhappy. His life was undisturbed by duns ; his day was his own from morning till night ; his diet was good, his acquaintances jovial, his purse toler- ably well supplied, and he had not one single care to annoy him. Mrs. Crump and Woolsey, perhaps, received Mor- giana's account of her husband's miseries with some in- credulity. The latter was now a daily visitor to " Sad- ler's Wells." His love for Morgiana had become a warm, fatherly, generous regard for her; it was out of the honest fellow's cellar that the wine used to come which did so much good to Mr. Walker's chest; and he tried a thousand ways to make Morgiana happy. A very happy day, indeed, it was when, returning from her visit to the Fleet, she found in her mother's sitting-room her dear grand rosewood piano, and every one of her music-books, which the kind-hearted tailor had purchased at the sale of Walker's effects. And I am not ashamed to say that Morgiana herself was so charmed, that when, as usual, Mr. Woolsey came to drink tea in the evening, she actually gave him a kiss; which frightened Mr. Woolsey, and made him blush exceedingly. She sat down, and played him that even- THE RAVENSWING 351 ing ever}^ one of the songs which he hked— the old songs — none of your Itahan stuff. Podmore, the old music- master, was there too, and was dehghted and astonished at the progress in singing which jNIorgiana had made ; and when the httle party separated, he took INIr. Woolsey by the hand, and said, " Give me leave to tell you, sir, that you're a trump." " That he is," said Canterfield, the first tragic; " an honour to human nature. A man whose hand is open as day to melting charity, and whose heart ever melts at the tale of woman's distress." " Pooh, pooh, stuff and nonsense, sir," said the tailor; but, upon my word, Mr. Canterfield's words w^ere per- fectly correct. I wdsh as much could be said in favour of Woolsey 's old rival, Mr. Eglantine, who attended the sale too, but it was with a horrid kind of satisfaction at the thought that Walker was ruined. He bought the yellow satin sofa before mentioned, and transferred it to what he calls his " sitting-room," where it is to this day, bearing many marks of the best bears'-grease. Woolsey bid against Baroski for the piano, very nearly up to the actual value of the instrument, when the artist withdrew from competition; and when he was sneering at the ruin of Mr. Walker, the tailor sternly interrupted him by saying, " What the deuce are you sneering at? You did it, sir; and you're paid every shilling of your claim, ain't you? " On which Baroski turned round to Miss Larkins, and said, " INIr. Woolsey was a ' snop;' " the very word, though pronounced somewhat differ- ently, which the gallant Cornet Fipkin had applied to him. Well ; so he wa.t a snob. But, vulgar as he was, I de- clare, for my part, that 1 have a greater respect for JVIr. 352 MEN'S WIVES Woolsey than for any single nobleman or gentleman mentioned in this true history. It will be seen from the names of Messrs. Canterfield and Podmore that Morgiana was again in the midst of the widow Crump's favourite theatrical society ; and this, indeed, was the case. The widow's little room was hung round with the pictures which were mentioned at the com- mencement of the story as decorating the bar of the " Bootjack; " and several times in a week she received her friends from the " Wells," and entertained them with such humble refreshments of tea and crumpets as her modest means permitted her to purchase. Among these persons IVIorgiana lived and sung quite as content- edly as she had ever done among the demireps of her hus- band's society; and, only she did not dare to own it to herself, was a great deal happier than she had been for many a day. Mrs. Captain Walker was still a great lady amongst them. Even in his ruin, Walker, the director of three companies, and the owner of the splendid pony- chaise, was to these simple persons an awful character; and when mentioned, they talked with a great deal of gravity of his being in the country, and hoped Mrs. Cap- tain W. had good news of him. They all knew he was in the Fleet ; but had he not in prison fought a duel with a viscount? Montmorency (of the Norfolk circuit) was in the Fleet too ; and when Canterfield went to see poor Montey, the latter had pointed out Walker to his friend, who actually hit Lord George Tennison across the shoul- ders in play with a racket-bat; which event was soon made known to the whole green-room. " They had me up one day," said Montmorency, " to sing a comic song, and 'give my recitations ; and we had champagne and lobster-salad: such nobs!" added the THE RAVENSWING 353 player. " Billingsgate and Yauxhall were there too, and left college at eight o'clock." When iNIorgiana was told of the circumstance by her mother, she hoped her dear Howard had enjoj^ed the evening, and was thankful that for once he could forget his sorrows. Nor, somehow, was she ashamed of herself for being happy afterwards, but gave way to her natural good humour without repentance or self-rebuke. I be- lieve, indeed, (alas! why are we made acquainted with the same fact regarding ourselves long after it is past and gone?),— I believe these were the happiest days of JNIorgiana's whole life. She had no cares except the pleasant one of attending on her husband, an eas3% smil- ing temperament which made her regardless of to-mor- row; and, add to this, a delightful hope relative to a cer- tain interesting event which was about to occur, and which I shall not particularise further than by saying, that she was cautioned against too much singing bj^ ]Mr. Squills, her medical attendant; and that widow Crump was busy making-up a vast number of little caps and di- minutive cambric shirts, such as delighted grandmothers are in the habit of fashioning. I hope this is as genteel a way of signifying the circumstance which was about to take place in the Walker family as Miss Prim herself could desire. Mrs. Walker's mother was about to be- come a grandmother. There's a phrase! The Morning Post, which says this story is vulgar, I'm sure cannot quarrel with that. I don't believe the whole Court Guide would convey an intimation more delicately. Well, Mrs. Crump's little grandchikl was born, en- tirely to the dissatisfaction, I must say, of his father; who, when the infant was brought to him in tlie Fleet, had him abruptly covered up in his cloak again, from 354 MEN'S WIVES which he had been removed by the jealous prison door- keepers; why, do you think? Walker had a quarrel with one of them, and the wretch persisted in believing that the bundle JNIrs. Crump was bringing to her son-in-law was a bundle of disguised brandy ! "The brutes!" said the lady; "and the father's a brute too," said she. " He takes no more notice of me than if I was a kitchenmaid, and of Woolsey than if he was a leg of mutton — the dear, blessed little cherub! " Mrs. Crump was a mother-in-law^; let us pardon her hatred of her daughter's husband. The Woolsey compared in the above sentence both to a leg of mutton and a cherub, was not the eminent mem- ber of the firm of Linsey, Woolsey and Co., but the little baby, who was christened Howard Woolsey Walker, with the full consent of the father; who said the tailor was a deuced good fellow, and felt really obliged to him for the sherry, for a frock-coat which he let him have in prison, and for his kindness to Morgiana. The tailor loved the little boy with all his soul; he attended his mother to her churching, and the child to the font; and, as a present to his little godson on his christening, he sent two yards of the finest white kerseymere in his shop to make him a cloak. The Duke had had a pair of in- expressibles off that very piece. House-furniture is bought and sold, music lessons are given, children are born and christened, ladies are con- fined and churched— time, in other words, passes— and yet Captain Walker still remains in prison ! Does it not seem strange that he should still languish there between palisaded walls near Fleet Market, and that he should not be restored to that active and fashionable world of which he was an ornament ? The fact is, the Captain had THE RAVEN SWING 355 been before the Court for the examination of his debts ; and the Commissioner, with a cruelty quite shameful towards a fallen man, had qualified his ways of getting money in most severe language, and had sent him back to prison again for the space of nine calendar months, an indefinite period, and until his accounts could be made up. This delay Walker bore like a philosopher, and, far from repining, was still the gayest fellow of the tennis- court, and the soul of tlie midnight carouse. There is no use in raking up old stories, and hunting through files of dead newspapers, to know what were the specific acts which made the Commissioner so angry with Captain Walker. Many a rogue has come before the Court, and passed through it since then : and I would lay a wager that Howard Walker was not a bit worse than his neighbours. But as he was not a lord, and as he had no friends on coming out of prison, and had settled no money on his wife, and had, as it must be confessed, an exceedingly bad character, it is not likely that the latter would be forgiven him when once more free in the world. For instance, when Doublequits left the Fleet, he was received with open arms by his family, and had two-and- thirty horses in his stables before a week was over. Pam, of the Dragoons, came out, and instantly got a place as government courier, — a place found so good of late years (and no wonder, it is better pay than that of a colonel), that our noblemen and gentiy eagerly press for it. Frank Hurricane was sent out as registrar of Tobago, or Sago, or Ticonderago; in fact, for a younger son of good family it is rather advantageous to get into debt twenty or thirty thousand pounds; you are sure of a good place afterwards in tlie colonies. Your friends are so anxious to get rid of you, that they will move heaven 356 MEN'S WIVES and earth to serve you. And so all the above companions of misfortune with Walker were speedily made comfort- able ; but he had no rich parents ; his old father was dead in York jail. How was he to start in the world again? What friendly hand was there to fill his pocket with gold, and his cup with sparkling champagne? He was, in fact, an object of the greatest pity,— for I know of no greater than a gentleman of his habits without the means of gratifying them. He must live well, and he has not the means. Is there a more pathetic case? As for a mere low beggar;— some labourless labourer, or some weaver out of place— don't let us throw away our com- passion upon them. Psha! they're accustomed to starve. They can sleep upon boards, or dine off a crust ; whereas a gentleman would die in the same situation. I think this was poor Morgiana's way of reasoning. For Walker's cash in prison beginning presently to run low, and know- ing quite well that the dear fellow could not exist there without the luxuries to which he had been accustomed, she borrowed money from her mother, until the poor old lady was a sec. She even confessed, with tears, to Wool- sey, that she was in particular want of twenty pounds, to pay a poor milliner, whose debt she could not bear to put in her husband's schedule. And I need not say she car- ried the money to her husband, who might have been greatly benefited by it,— only he had a bad run of luck at the cards ; and how the deuce can a man help that? Woolsey had repurchased for her one of the Cashmere shawls. She left it behind her One day at the Fleet prison, and some rascal stole it there; having the grace, however, to send Woolsey the ticket, signifying the place where it had been pawned. Who could the scoundrel have been? Woolsey swore a great oath, and fancied he THE RAVENSWING 357 knew; but if it was Walker himself (as Woolsey fan- cied, and probably as was the case) who made away with the shawl, being pressed thereto by necessity, was it fair to call him a scoundrel for so doing, and should we not rather laud the delicacy of his proceeding? He was poor; who can command the cards? but he did not wish his wife should know Jiow poor: he could not bear that she should suppose him arrived at the necessity of pawn- ing a shawl. She who had such beautiful ringlets, of a sudden pleaded cold in the head, and took to wearing caps. One summer evening, as she and the baby and Mrs. Crump and Woolsey (let us say all four babies together) were laughing and playing in Mrs. Crump's drawing-room, — playing the most absurd gambols, fat IVIrs. Crump, for instance, hiding behind the sofa, Woolsey chuck-chuck- ing, cock-a-doodle-dooing, and performing those inde- scribable freaks which gentlemen with philoprogenitive organs will execute in the company of children, — in the midst of their play the baby gave a tug at his mother's cap; off it came^her hair was cut close to her head! Morgiana turned as red as sealing-wax, and trembled very much; Mrs. Crump screamed, " My child, where is your hair? " and Woolsey, bursting out with a most tre- mendous oath against Walker that would send INIiss Prim into convulsions, put his handkerchief to his face, and actually wept. " The infernal bubblc-ubble-ack- guard! " said he, roaring and clenching his fists. As he had passed the Bower of Bloom a few days be- fore, he saw Mossrose, who was com])ing out a jet-})lack ringlet, and held it up, as if for Woolsey's examination, with a peculiar grin. Tlie tailor did not understand tlie joke, but he saw now what had happened. Morgiana 358 MEN'S WIVES had sold her hair for five guineas; she would have sold her arm had her husband bidden her. On looking in her drawers it was found she had sold almost all her wearing ax^parel; the child's clothes were all there, however. It was because her husband talked of disposing of a gilt coral that the child had, that she had parted with the locks which had formed her pride. " I'll give you twenty guineas for that hair, you infa- mous fat coward," roared the little tailor to Eglantine that evening. " Give it up, or I'll kill you—" "Mr. Mossrose! Mr. ^Mossrose!" shouted the per- fumer. " Veil, vatsh de matter, vatsh de row, fight avay, my boys; two to one on the tailor," said Mr. Mossrose, much enjoying the sport (for Woolsey, striding through the shop without speaking to him, had rushed into the studio, where he plumped upon Eglantine) . " Tell him about that hair, sir." " That hair! Now keep yourself quiet, Mister Timble, and don't tink for to bully me. You mean Mrs. Valkers 'air? Vv, she sold it me." " And the more blackguard you for buying it! Will you take twenty guineas for it? " " No," said Mossrose. " Twenty-five? " " Can't," said Mossrose. " Hang it ; will you take forty? There ! " " I vish I'd kep it," said the Hebrew gentleman, with unfeigned regret. " Eglantine dressed it this very night." " For Countess Baldenstiern, the Swedish Hambassa- dor's lady," says Eglantine (his Hebrew partner was by no means a favourite with the ladies, and only superin- THE RAVEN SWING 359 tended the accounts of the concern) . " It's this very night at Devonshire 'Ouse, with four hostrich plumes, lappets, and trimmings. And now, ]Mr. Woolsey, I'll trouble you to apologise." Mr. Woolsey did not answer, but walked up to INIr. Eglantine, and snapped his fingers so close under the perfumer's nose that the latter started back and seized the bell-rope. jNIossrose burst out laughing, and the tailor walked majestically from the shop, with both hands stuck between the lappets of his coat. " Mv dear," said he to ]\IorQ'iana a short time after- wards, " you must not encourage that husband of yours in his extravagance, and sell the clothes off your poor back, that he may feast and act the fine gentleman in prison." "It is his health, poor dear soul!" interposed JNIrs. Walker: " his chest. Every farthing of the money goes to the doctors, poor fellow ! " " Well, now listen: I am a rich man (it was a great fib, for Woolsey 's income, as a junior partner of the firm, was but a small one) ; I can very well afford to make him an allowance while he is in the Fleet, and have written to him to say so. But if you ever give him a penny, or sell a trinket belonging to you, upon my word and honour I will withdraw the allowance, and, though it would go to my heart, I'll never see you again. You wouldn't make me unhappy, would you? " " I'd go on my knees to serve you, and Heaven bless vou," said tlie wife. " Well, then, you must give me this ])r()mise." And she did. " And now," said he, " your mother, and Pod- more, and I, have been talking over matters, and we've agreed that you may make a very good income for yoiu'- 360 MEN'S WIVES self; though, to be sure, I wish it could have been man- aged any other way ; but needs must, you know. You're the finest singer in the universe." " La! " said INIorgiana, highly delighted. "I never heard anything like you, though I'm no judge. Podmore says he is sure you will do very well, and has no doubt you might get very good engagements at concerts or on the stage; and as that husband will never do any good, and you have a child to support, sing you must." " Oh ! how glad I should be to pay his debts and repay all he has done for me," cried Mrs. Walker. " Think of his giving two hundred guineas to Mr. Baroski to have me taught. Was not that kind of him? Do you really think I should succeed? " *' There's Miss Larkins has succeeded." " The little high-shouldered, vulgar thing! " says Mor- giana. " I'm sure I ought to succeed if sJie did." "She sing against Morgiana? " said Mrs. Crump. " I'd like to see her, indeed! She ain't fit to snufF a candle to her." " I dare say not," said the tailor, " though I don't un- derstand the thing myself ; but if Morgiana can make a fortune, why shouldn't she? " " Heaven knows we want it, Woolsey," cried Mrs. Crump. " And to see her on the stage was always the wish of my heart: " and so it had formerly been the wish of Morgiana: and now, with the hope of helping her husband and child, the wish became a duty, and she fell to practising once more from morning till night. One of the most generous of men and tailors who ever lived now promised, if further instruction should be con- sidered necessary (though that he could hardly believe THE RAVEN SWING 361 possible) , that he would lend INIorgiana any sum required for the payment of lessons; and accordingly she once more betook herself, under Podmore's advice, to the sing- ing school. Baroski's academy was, after the passages between them, out of the question, and she placed herself under the instruction of the excellent English composer Sir George Thrum, whose large and awful wife. Lady Thrum, dragon of virtue and propriety, kept watch over the master and the pupils, and was the sternest guardian of female virtue on or off any stage. Morgiana came at a propitious moment. Baroski had launched ^liss Larkins under the name of Ligonier. The Ligonier was enjoying considerable success, and was singing classical music to tolerable audiences, whereas Miss Butts, Sir George's last pupil, had turned out a complete failure, and the rival house was only able to make a faint opposition to the new star with Miss M'Whirter, who, though an old favourite, had lost her upper notes and her front teeth, and, the fact was, drew no longer. Directly Sir George heard Mrs. Walker, he tapped Podmore, who accompanied her, on the waistcoat, and said, "Poddy, thank you; we'll cut the orange-boy's throat with that voice." It was by the familiar title of orange-boy that the great Baroski was known among his opponents. " We'll crush him, Podmore," said Lady Thrum, in her deep hollow voice. " You may stop and dine." And Podmore stayed to dinner, and ate cold mutton, and drank Marsala with the greatest reverence for the great English composer. The very next day Lady Tlu'um hired a pair of horses, and paid a visit to Mrs. Crump and her daughter at " Sadler's Wells." 362 MEN'S WIVES All these things were kept profoundly secret from Walker, who received very magnanimously the allow- ance of two guineas a-week which Woolsey made him, and with the aid of the few shillings his wife could bring him, managed to exist as best he might. He did not dis- like gin when he could get no claret, and the former liquor, under the name of " tape," used to be measured out jjretty liberally in what was formerly her Majesty's prison of the Fleet. Morgiana pursued her studies under Thrum, and we shall hear in the next chapter how it was she changed her name to Raven swing. CHAPTER VII IN WHICH MORGIANA ADVANCES TOWARDS FAME AND HONOUR, AND IN WHICH SEVERAL GREAT LITERARY CHARACTERS MAKE THEIR APPEARANCE WE must begin, my dear madam," said Sir George Thrum, " by unlearning all that Mr. Baroski (of whom I do not wish to speak with the slightest disre- spect) has taught you! " Morgiana knew that every professor says as much, and submitted to undergo the study requisite for Sir George's system with perfect good grace. Au fond, as I was given to understand, the methods of the two artists were pretty similar; but as there was rivalry between them, and continual desertion of scholars from one school to another, it was fair for each to take all the credit he THE RAVEN SWING 363 could get in the success of any pupil. If a pupil failed, for instance, Thrum would say Baroski had spoiled her irretrievably; while the German would regret " Dat dat yong voman, who had a good organ, should have trown away her dime wid dat old Drum." When one of these deserters succeeded, " Yes, yes," would either professor cry, " I formed her, she owes her fortune to me." Both of them thus, in future days, claimed the education of the famous Ravenswing; and even Sir George Thrum, though he wished to ecraser the Ligonier, pretended that her present success w^as his work, because once she had been brought by her mother, ^Mrs. Larkins, to sing for Sir George's approval. When the two professors met it was with the most de- lighted cordiality on the part of both. '" Mein lieher Herr" Thrum would say (with some malice), "your sonata in x flat is divine." " Chevalier," Baroski would reply, " dat andante movement in w is worthy of Bee- thoven. I gif you my sacred honour," and so forth. In fact, they loved each other as gentlemen in their profes- sion always do. The two famous professors conduct their academies on very opposite principles. Baroski writes ballet music; Thrum, on the contrary, says " he cannot but deplore the dangerous fascinations of the dance," and writes more for Exeter Hall and Birmingham. While 15aroski drives a cab in the park with a very suspicious ^Mademoi- selle Leocadie, or Amenaide, by his side, you may see Thrum walking to evening church with his lady, and hymns are sung there of his own composition. He be- longs to the " Athenaeum Club," he goes to the levee once a-year, he does everything that a respectable man should, and if, by the means of this respectability, he manages to 364 MEN'S WIVES make his little trade far more profitable than it otherwise would be, are we to quarrel with him for it? Sir George, in fact, had every reason to be respectable. He had been a choir-boy at Windsor, had played to the old King's violoncello, had been intimate with him, and had received knighthood at the hand of his revered sov- ereign. He had a snufF-box which his JMajesty gave him, and portraits of him and the young princes all over the house. He had also a foreign order (no other, in- deed, than the Elephant and Castle of Kalbsbraten- Pumpernickel) , conferred upon him by the Grand Duke when here with the allied sovereigns in 1814. With this ribbon round his neck, on gala days, and in a white waist- coat, the old gentleman looked splendid as he moved along in a blue coat with the Windsor button, and neat black small-clothes, and silk stockings. He lived in an old, tall, dingy house, furnished in the reign of George III., his beloved master, and not much more cheerful now than a family vault. They are awfully funereal those ornaments of the close of the last century, — tall, gloomy, horse-hair chairs, mouldy Turkey carpets, with wretched druggets to guard them, little cracked stick- ing-plaster miniatures of people in tours and pig-tails over high-shouldered mantelpieces, two dismal urns on each side of a lanky sideboard, and in the midst a queer twisted receptacle for worn-out knives with green han- dles. Under the sideboard stands a cellaret that looks as if it held half a bottle of currant wine, and a shivering plate-warmer that never could get any comfort out of the wretched old cramped grate yonder. Don't you know in such houses the grey gloom that hangs over the stairs, the dull-coloured old carpet that winds its way up the same, growing thinner, duller, and more thread- THE RAVENSWING SiSo bare, as it mounts to the bed-room floors? There is some- thing awful in the bed-room of a respectable old couple of sixty-five. Think of the old feathers, turbans, bugles, petticoats, pomatum-pots, spencers, white satin shoes, false fronts, the old flaccid, boneless stays tied up in faded riband, the dusk}^ fans, the old forty-years-old baby-linen, the letters of Sir George when he was young, the doll of poor jNIaria, who died in 1803, Frederick's first corduroy breeches, and the newspaper which con- tains the account of his distinguishing himself at the siege of Seringapatam. All these lie somewhere, damp and squeezed down into glum old presses and wardrobes. At that glass the wife has sat many times these fifty years; in that old morocco bed her children were born. Where are they now? Fred, the brave captain, and Charles, the saucy colleger; there hangs a drawing of him done by Mr. Beechey, and that sketch by Cosway was the very likeness of Louisa before . . . " jVIr. Fitz-Boodle! for Heaven's sake come down. What are you doing in a lady's bed-room? " " The fact is, madam, I had no business there in life; but, having had quite enough wine with Sir George, my thoughts had wandered upstairs into the sanctuary of female excellence, where your ladyship nightly reposes. You do not sleep so well now as in old days, thougli there is no patter of little steps to wake you over- head." They call that room the nursery still, and the little wicket still hangs at the up})er stairs: it has been there for forty years— ban Dicu! Can't you see tlie ghosts of little faces peering over it? I wonder wlictlier tlicy get up in the night as the moonhoht shines into tlie blank, vacant old room, and play there solemnly with little 366 MEN'S WIVES ghostly horses, and the spirits of dolls, and tops that turn and turn but don't hum. Once more, sir, come down to the lower storey — that is, to the Morgiana story — with which the above sen- tences have no more to do than this morning's leading article in The Times; only it was at this house of Sir George Thrum's that I met Morgiana. Sir George, in old days, had instructed some of the female members of our family, and I recollect cutting my fingers as a child with one of those attenuated green-handled knives in the queer box yonder. In those days Sir George Thrum was the first great musical teacher of London, and the royal patronage brought him a great number of fashionable pupils, of whom Lady Fitz-Boodle was one. It was a long, long time ago: in fact, Sir George Thrum was old enough to remember persons who had been present at INIr. Braham's first appearance, and the old gentleman's days of tri- umph had been those of Billington and Incledon, Cata- lani and INIadame Storace. He was the author of several operas (" The Camel Driver," " Britons Alarmed; or the Siege of Bergen-op- Zoom," &c. &c.) and, of course, of songs which had con- siderable success in their day, but are forgotten now, and are as much faded and out of fashion as those old carpets which we have described in the professor's house, and which were, doubtless, very brilliant once. But such is the fate of carpets, of flowers, of music, of men, and of the most admirable novels — even this story will not be alive for many centuries. Well, well, why struggle against Fate? But, though his hey-day of fashion was gone, Sir George still held his place among the musicians of the THE RAVENSVVING 367 old school, conducted occasionally at the Ancient Con- certs and the " Philharmonic," and his glees are still fa- vourites after puhlic dinners, and are sung by those old bacchanalians, in chestnut wigs, who attend for the pur- pose of amusing the guests on such occasions of festivity. The great old people at the gloomy old concerts before mentioned always pay Sir George marked respect; and, indeed, from the old gentleman's peculiar behaviour to his superiors, it is impossible they should not be delighted with him, so he leads at almost every one of the concerts in the old-fashioned houses in town. Becomingly obsequious to his superiors, he is with the rest of the world properly majestic, and has obtained no small success by his admirable and undeviating re- spectability. Respectability has been his great card through life; ladies can trust their daughters at Sir George Thrum's academy. "A good musician, mad- am," says he to the mother of a new pupil, " should not only have a fine ear, a good voice, and an indomit- able industry, but, above all, a faultless character — faultless, that is, as far as our poor nature will permit. And you will remark that those young persons with whom your lovely daughter. Miss Smith, will pursue her musical studies, are all, in a moral point of view, as spot- less as that charming young lady. How sliould it be otherwise? I have been myself the father of a family; I have been honoured with the intimacy of the wisest and best of kings, my late sovereign George III., and I can proudly show an example of decorum to my pupils in my Sophia. Mrs. Smith, I liave the honour of introduc- ing to you my Lady Thrum." The old lady would rise at this, and make a gigantic curtsey, such a one as had begun tlie minuet at Rane- 368 MEN'S WIVES lagh fifty years ago, and, the introduction ended, Mrs. Smith would retire, after having seen the portraits of the princes, his late Majesty's snufF-box, and a piece of music which he used to play, noted by himself — Mrs. Smith, I say, would drive back to Baker Street, de- lighted to think that her Frederica had secured so eli- gible and respectable a master. I forgot to say that, during the interview between ]Mrs. Smith and Sir George, the latter would be called out of his study by his black servant, and my Lady Thrum would take that opportunity of mentioning when he was knighted, and how he got his foreign order, and deploring the sad con- dition of other musical professors, and the dreadful im- morality which sometimes arose in consequence of their laxness. Sir George was a good deal engaged to dinners in the season, and if invited to dine with a nobleman, as he might j^ossibly be on the day when Mrs. Smith re- quested the honour of his company, he would write back " that he should have had the sincerest happiness in wait- ing upon Mrs. Smith in Baker Street, if, previously, my Lord Tweedledale had not been so kind as to engage him." This letter, of course, shoAvn bj^ Mrs. Smith to her friends, was received by them with proper respect; and thus, in spite of age and new fashions. Sir George still reigned pre-eminent for a mile round Cavendish Square. By the young pupils of the academy he was called Sir Charles Grandison ; and, indeed, fully deserved this title on account of the indomitable respectability of his whole actions. It was under this gentleman that JNIorgiana made her debut in public life. I do not know what arrangements may have been made between Sir George Thrum and his pupil regarding the profits which were to accrue to the THE RAVENSWING 369 former from engagements procured by him for the lat- ter; but there was, no doubt, an understanding between them. For Sir George, respectable as he was, had the reputation of being extremely clever at a bargain; and Lady Thrum herself, in her great high-tragedy way, could purchase a pair of soles or select a leg of mutton with the best housekeeper in London. When, however, JMorgiana had been for some six months under his tuition, he began, for some reason or other, to be exceedingly hospitable, and invited his friends to numerous entertainments; at one of which, as I have said, I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Walker. Although the worthy musician's dinners were not good, the old knight had some excellent wine in his cellar, and his arrangement of his party deserves to be commended. For instance, he meets me and Bob Fitz-Urse in Pall Mall, at whose paternal house he was also a visitor. " My dear young gentlemen," says he, " will you come and dine with a poor musical composer? I have some comet-hock and, what is more curious to you perhaps, as men of wit, one or two of the great literary characters of London whom you would like to see — quite curiosi- ties, my dear young friends." And we agreed to go. To the literary men he says, " I have a little quiet party at home. Lord Roundtowers, the Honourable ]Mr. Fitz-Urse of the Life Guards, and a few more. Can you tear yourself away from the war of wits, and take a quiet dinner with a few mere men about town? " The literary men instantly purchase new satin stocks and white gloves, and are dcliglited to fancy themselves members of the world of fashion. Instead of inviting 370 MEN'S WIVES twelve Royal Academicians, or a dozen authors, or a dozen men of science to dinner, as his Grace the Duke of and the Right Honourable Sir Robert are in the habit of doing once a year, this i^lan of fusion is the one they should adopt. Not invite all artists, as they would invite all farmers to a rent-dinner; but they should have a proper commingling of artists and men of the world. There is one of the latter whose name is George Savage Fitz-Boodle, who— But let us return to Sir George Thrum. Fitz-Urse and I arrive at the dismal old house, and are conducted up the staircase by a black servant, who shouts out, " Missa Fiss-Boodle— the Honourable Missa Fiss-Urse! " It was evident that Lady Thrum had in- structed the swarthy groom of the chambers ( for there is nothing particularly honourable in my friend Fitz's face that I know of, unless an abominable squint may be said to be so) . Lady Thrum, whose figure is something like that of the shot-tower opposite Waterloo Bridge, makes a majestic inclination and a speech to signify her pleasure at receiving under her roof two of the children of Sir George's best pupils. A lady in black velvet is seated by the old fireplace, with whom a stout gentleman in an exceedingly light coat and ornamental waistcoat is talking very busily. " The great star of the night," whispers our host. " INIrs. Walker, gentlemen— the Ravenswing! She is talking to the famous ^Mr. Slang, of the theatre." " Is she a fine singer? " says Fitz-Urse. " She's a very fine woman." " jNIy dear young friends, you shall hear to-night! I, who have heard every fine voice in Europe, confidently pledge my respectability that the Ravenswing is equal THE RAVEN SWING 371 to them all. She has the graces, sir, of a Venus with the mind of a muse. She is a siren, sir, without the dan- gerous qualities of one. She is hallowed, sir, by her misfortunes as by her genius ; and I am proud to think that my instructions have been the means of developing the wondrous qualities that were latent within her until now\" " You don't say so! " says gobemouche Fitz-Urse. Having thus indoctrinated JNIr. Fitz-Urse, Sir George takes another of his guests, and proceeds to work upon him, " jNIy dear ^Mr. Bludyer, how do you do? Mr. Fitz- Boodle, INIr. Bludyer, the brilliant and accomplished wit, whose sallies in the Tomahawk delight us every Sat- urday. Nay, no blushes my dear sir; you are very wicked, but oh! so pleasant. Well, Mr. Bludyer, I am glad to see you, sir, and hope you will have a favourable opinion of our genius, sir. As I was saying to JNIr. Fitz- Boodle, she has the graces of a Venus with the mind of a muse. She is a siren, without the dangerous qualities of one," &c. This little speech was made to half-a-dozen persons in the course of the evening— persons, for the most part, connected with the public journals or the theatrical world. There was Mr. Squinny, the editor of the Flowers of Fashion; Mr. Desmond INIulligan, the poet, and reporter for a morning paper; and other wor- thies of their calling. For though Sir George is a re- spectable man, and as higli-minded and moral an old gentleman as ever wore knee-buckles, he does not neglect the little arts of popularity, and can condescend to re- ceive very queer company if need be. For instance, at the dinner-party at which 1 had the honour of assisting, and at wliich, on the right hand of Lady Thrum, sat the ohlif^c nobleman, whom the 372 MEN'S WIVES Thrums were a great deal too wise to omit (the sight of a lord does good to us commoners, or why else should we be so anxious to have one?) . In the second place of honour, and on her ladyship's left hand, sat Mr, Slang, the manager of one of the theatres ; a gentleman whom my Lady Thrum would scarcely, but for a great neces- sity's sake, have been induced to invite to her table. He had the honour of leading Mrs. Walker to dinner, who looked splendid in black velvet and turban, full of health and smiles. Lord Roundtowers is an old gentleman who has been at the theatres five times a week for these fifty years, a living dictionary of the stage, recollecting every actor and actress who has appeared upon it for half a century. He perfectly well remembered JNIiss Delancy in Mor- giana; he knew what had become of Ali Baba, and how Cassim had left the stage, and was now the keeper of a public-house. All this store of knowledge he kept quietly to himself, or only delivered in confidence to his next neighbour in the intervals of the banquet, which he enjoys prodigiously. He lives at an hotel: if not invited to dine, eats a mutton-chop very humbly at his club, and finishes his evening after the play at Crockf ord's, whither he goes not for the sake of the play but of the supper there. He is described in the Court Guide as of " Sim- mer's Hotel," and of Roundtowers, county Cork. It is said that the round towers really exist. But he has not been in Ireland since the rebellion; and his property is so hampered with ancestral mortgages, and rent-charges, and annuities, that his income is barely sufficient to pro- vide the modest mutton-chop before alluded to. He has, any time these fifty years, lived in the wickedest com- pany in London, and is, withal, as harmless, mild, good- THE RAVENSWING 373 natured, innocent an old gentleman as can readily be seen. " Roundy," shouts the elegant ]Mr. Slang, across the table, with a voice which makes Lady Thrum shudder, " Tuff, a glass of wine." My lord replies meekly, " ]Mr. Slang, I shall have very much pleasure. What shall it be? " " There is JNIadeira near you, my lord," saj^s my lady, pointing to a tall thin decanter of the fashion of the 3^ear. " Madeira! Marsala, by Jove, your ladyship means! " shouts Mr. Slang. " No, no, old birds are not caught with chaff. Thrum, old boy, let's have some of your comet-hock." " My Lady Thrum, I believe that is Marsala," says the knight, blushing a little, in reply to a question from his Sophia. " Ajax, the hock to Mr. Slang." " I'm in that," yells Bludyer from the end of the table. " My lord, I'll join you." " Mr. , I beg your pardon — I shall be very happy to take wine with you, sir." " It is Mr. Bludyer, the celebrated newspaper writer," whispers Lady Thrum. " Bludyer, Bludyer? A very clever man, I dare say. He has a very loud voice, and reminds me of Brett. Does your ladyship remember Brett, who played the ' Fathers ' at the Haymarket in 1802? " "What an old stupid Roundtowers is! " says Slang, archly, nudging Mrs. Walker in the side. " How's Walker, eh? " " My husband is in the country," rejilied Mrs. Walker hesitatingly. " Gammon! / know where he is! Law bless you! — 374 MEN'S WIVES don't blush. I've been there myself a dozen times. We were talking about quod, Lady Thrum. Were you ever in college? " " I was at the Commemoration at Oxford in 1814, when the sovereigns were there, and at Cambridge when Sir George received his degree of Doctor of Music." " Laud, Laud, that's not the college we mean." " There is also the college in Gower Street, where my grandson — " " This is the college in Queer Street, ma'am, haw, haw I Mulligan, you divvle (in an Irish accent) , a glass of wine with you. Wine, here, you waiter! What's your name, you black nigger? 'Possum up a gum-tree, eh? Fill him up. Dere he go" (imitating the Man- dingo manner of speaking English) . In this agreeable way would Mr. Slang rattle on, speedily making himself the centre of the conversation, and addressing graceful familiarities to all the gentle- men and ladies round him. It was good to see how the little knight, the most moral and calm of men, was compelled to receive Mr. Slang's stories, and the frightened air with which, at the conclu- sion of one of them, he would venture upon a commen- datory grin. His lady, on her part, too, had been labori- ously civil; and, on the occasion on which I had the honour of meeting this gentleman and Mrs. Walker, it was the latter who gave the signal for withdrawing to the lady of the house, by saying, " I think, Lady Thrum, it is quite time for us to retire." Some exquisite joke of Mr. Slang's was the cause of this abrupt disappearance. But, as they went upstairs to the drawing-room, Lady Thrum took occasion to say, " My dear, in the course of your profession you will have to submit to many such THE RAVENSWING 375 familiarities on the part of persons of low breeding, such as I fear jNIr. Slang is. But let me caution you against giving way to your temper as you did. Did you not per- ceive that I never allowed him to see my inward dissatis- faction? And I make it a particular point that you should be very civil to him to-night. Your interests— our interests — depend upon it." " And are my interests to make me civil to a wretch like that?" " Mrs. Walker, would you wish to give lessons in mor- ality and behaviour to Lady Thrum? " said the old lady, drawing herself up with great dignity. It was evident that she had a very strong desire indeed to conciliate INIr. Slang; and hence I have no doubt that Sir George was to have a considerable share of JNIorgiana's earnings. Mr. Bludyer, the famous editor of the Tomahawk, whose jokes Sir George jDretended to admire so much (Sir George who never made a joke in his life), was a press bravo of considerable talent and no principle, and who, to use his own words, would " back himself for a slashing article against any man in England!" He would not only write, but fight on a pinch; was a good scholar, and as savage in his manner as with his pen. Mr. Squinny is of exactly the opposite school, as delicate as milk and water, harmless in his habits, fond of the flute when the state of his chest will allow him, a great practiser of waltzing and dancing in general, and in his journal mildly malicious. He never goes beyond the bounds of politeness, but manages to insinuate a great deal that is disagreeable to an author in the course of twenty lines of criticism. Personally he is quite respec- table, and lives with two maiden aunts at Brompton. Nobody, on the contrary, knows where Mr. Bludyer 376 MEN'S WIVES lives. He has houses of call, mysterious taverns where he may be found at particular hours by those who need him, and where panting publishers are in the habit of hunt- ing him up. For a bottle of wine and a guinea he will write a page of praise or abuse of any man living, or on any subject, or on any line of politics. " Hang it, sir," says he, " pay me enough and I will write down my own father!" According to the state of his credit, he is dressed either almost in rags or else in the extremest flush of fashion. With the latter attire he puts on a haughty and aristocratic air, and would slap a duke on the shoulder. If there is one thing more dangerous than to refuse to lend him a sum of money when he asks for it, it is to lend it to him ; for he never pays, and never par- dons a man to whom he owes. " Walker refused to cash a bill for me," he had been heard to say, " and I'll do for his wife when she comes out on the stage!" Mrs. Walker and Sir George Thrum were in an agony about the Tomaha'wk; hence the latter's invitation to Mr. Blud- yer. Sir George was in a great tremor about the Flowers of Fashion, hence his invitation to Mr. Squinny. Mr. Squinny was introduced to Lord Roundtowers and Mr. Fitz-Urse as one of the most delightful and talented of our young men of genius ; and Fitz, who believes every- thing any one tells him, was quite pleased to have the honour of sitting near the live editor of a paper. I have reason to think that Mr. Squinny himself was no less de- lighted: I saw him giving his card to Fitz-Urse at the end of the second course. No particular attention was paid to Mr. Desmond Mulligan. Political enthusiasm is his forte. He lives and writes in a rapture. He is, of course, a member of an inn of court, and greatly addicted to after-dinner THE RAVENSWING 877 speaking as a preparation for the bar, where as a young man of genius he hopes one day to shine. He is ahnost the only man to whom Bludyer is civil, for, if the latter will fight doggedly when there is a necessity for so doing, the former fights like an Irishman, and has a pleasure in it. He has been " on the ground " I don't know how many times, and quitted his country on account of a quarrel with Government regarding certain articles pub- lished by him in the Phoenix newspaper. With the third bottle, he becomes overpoweringly great on the wrongs of Ireland, and at that period generally volunteers a couple or more of Irish melodies, selecting the most mel- ancholy in the collection. At five in the afternoon, you are sure to see him about the House of Commons, and he knows the " Reform Club " (he calls it the Refawrum) as well as if he were a member. It is curious for the con- templative mind to mark those mysterious hangers-on of Irish members of parliament— strange runners and aides-de-camp which all the honourable gentlemen ap- pear to possess. Desmond, in his political capacity, is one of these, and besides his calling as reporter to a news- paper, is " our well-informed correspondent " of that famous jNIunster paper, the Green Flag of Skihhereen. With Mr. ^lulligan's qualities and history I only be- came subsequently acquainted. On the present evening he made but a brief stay at the dinner-table, being com- pelled by his professional duties to attend the House of Commons. The above formed the party with whom I had the honour to dine. What other repasts Sir George Thrum may have given, what assemblies of men of mere science he may have invited to give their opinion regarding his prodigy, what other editors of papers he may have paci- 378 MEN'S WIVES fied or rendered favourable, who knows? On the present occasion, we did not quit the dinner-table until Mr. Slang the manager was considerably excited by wine, and music had been heard for some time in the drawing-room overhead during our absence. An addition had been made to the Thrum party by the arrival of several per- sons to spend the evening, — a man to play on the violin between the singing, a youth to play on the piano. Miss Horsman to sing with Mrs. Walker, and other scientific characters. In a corner sat a red-faced old ladv, of whom the mistress of the mansion took little notice ; and a gentleman with a royal button, who blushed and looked exceedingly modest. "Hang me!" says Mr. Bludyer, who had perfectly good reasons for recognising Mr. Woolsey, and who on this day chose to assume his aristocratic air; " there's a tailor in the room ! What do they mean by asking me to meet tradesmen? " " Delancy, my dear," cries Slang, entering the room M^ith a reel, " how's your precious health? Give us your hand ! When are we to be married ? Make room for me on the sofa, that's a duck! " " Get along, Slang," says ]Mrs. Crump, addressed by the manager by her maiden name ( artists generally drop the title of honour which people adopt in the world, and call each other by their simple surnames) — " get along. Slang, or I'll tell Mrs. S. ! " The enterprising manager replies by sportively striking JNIrs. Crump on the side a blow which causes a great giggle from the lady insulted, and a most good-humoured threat to box Slang's ears. I fear very much that Morgiana's mother thought JNIr. Slang an exceedingly gentlemanlike and agreeable per- THE RAVENSWING 379 son; besides, she was eager to have his good opinion of Mrs. Walker's singing. The manager stretched himself out with much grace- fulness on the sofa, supporting two little dumpy legs encased in varnished boots on a chair. " Ajax, some tea to Mr. Slang," said my lady, look- ing towards that gentleman with a countenance expres- sive of some alarm, I thought. "That's right, Ajax, my black prince!" exclaimed Slang, when the negro brought the required refresh- ment; " and now I suppose you'll be wanted in the or- chestra yonder. Don't Ajax play the cymbals. Sir George? " "Ha, ha, ha! very good— capital! " answered the knight, exceedingly frightened; " but ours is not a mili- tary band. Miss Horsman, Mr. Craw, my dear Mrs. Ravenswing, shall we begin the trio? Silence, gentle- men, if 3^ou please, it is a little piece from my opera of the ' Brigand's Bride.' Miss Horsman takes the Page's part, Mr. Craw is Stiletto the Brigand, my accomplished pupil is the Bride; " and the music began. " The Bride. " My heart with joy is beating, My eyes with tears are dim ; " The Page. " Her heart with joy is beating, Her eyes are fixed on him ; " The Brigand. " My heart with rage is beating. In blood my eye-balls swim ! " 380 MEN'S WIVES What may have been the merits of the music or the singing, I, of course, cannot guess. Lady Thrum sat opposite the tea-cups, nodding her head and beating time very gravely. Lord Roundtowers, by her side, nodded his head too, for awhile, and then fell asleep. I should have done the same but for the manager, whose actions were worthy of remark. He sang with all the three singers, and a great deal louder than any of them ; he shouted bravo ! or hissed as he thought proper ; he criti- cised all the points of Mrs. Walker's person. " She'll do. Crump, she'll do— a splendid arm— you'll see her eyes in the shilling gallery ! What sort of a foot has she? She's five feet three, if she's an inch! Bravo— slap up— capi- tal— hurra!" and he concluded by saying, with the aid of the Ravenswing, he would put Ligonier's nose out of joint! The enthusiasm of Mr. Slang almost reconciled Lady Thrum to the abruptness of his manners, and even caused Sir George to forget that his chorus had been inter- rupted by the obstreperous familiarity of the manager. "And what do you think, Mr. Bludyer," said the tailor, delighted that his protegee should be thus winning all hearts, " isn't Mrs. Walker a tip-top singer, eh, sir? " " I think she's a very bad one, Mr. Woolsey: " said the illustrious author, wishing to abbreviate all commu- nications with a tailor to whom he owed forty pounds. " Then, sir," says Mr. Woolsey, fiercely, " I'll— I'll thank you to pay me my little bill! " It is true there was no connection between Mrs. Walk- er's singing and Woolsey's httle bill ; that the " Then, sir," was perfectly illogical on Woolsey's part; but it was a very happy hit for the future fortunes of Mrs. Walker. Who knows what would have come of her debut but for THE RAVENSWING 381 that " Then, sir," and whether a " smashing article " from the Tomahawk might not have ruined her for ever? " Are you a relation of JNIrs. Walker's? " said INIr. Bludyer, in reply to the angry tailor. " What's that to you, whether I am or not? " replied Woolsey, fiercely. "But I'm the friend of ]Mrs. Walker, sir; proud am I to say so, sir; and, as the poet says, sir, ' a little learning's a dangerous thing,' sir; and I think a man who don't pay his bills may keep his tongue quiet at least, sir, and not abuse a lady, sir, whom everybody else praises, sir. You shan't humbug me any more, sir; j^ou shall hear from my attorney to-morrow, so mark that! " " Hush, my dear Mr. Woolsey," cried the literary man, "don't make a noise; come into this window: is jNIrs. Walker really a friend of yours? " " I've told you so, sir." " Well, in that case, I shall do my utmost to serve her; and, look you, Woolsey, any article you choose to send about her to the Tomahawk I promise you I'll put in." " Will you, though? then we'll say nothing about the little bill." " You may do on that point," answered Bludyer, haughtily, " exactly as you please. I am not to be frightened from my duty, mind that ; and mind, too, that I can write a slashing article better than any man in England: I could crush her by ten lines." The tables were now turned, and it was Woolsey's turn to be alarmed. "Pooh! pooh! I was angry," said he, "because you abused Mrs. Walker, who's an angel on earth; but I'm very willing to apologise. I say — come — let me take your measure for some new clothes, eh! Mr. B.? " " I'll come to your shop," answered tlie literary man. 382 MEN'S WIVES quite appeased. " Silence! they're beginning another song." The songs, which I don't attempt to describe (and, upon my word and honour, as far as I can understand matters, I beheve to this day that JNIrs. Walker was only an ordinary singer), — the songs lasted a great deal longer than I liked ; but I was nailed, as it were, to the spot, having agreed to sup at Knightsbridge barracks with Fitz-Urse, whose carriage was ordered at eleven o'clock. " My dear Mr. Fitz-Boodle," said our old host to me, " you can do me the greatest service in the world." " Speak, sir! " said I. " Will you ask your honourable and gallant friend, the Captain, to drive home Mr. Squinny to Brompton? " " Can't Mr. Squinny get a cab? " Sir George looked particularly arch. " Generalship, my dear young friend, — a little harmless generalship. Mr. Squinny will not give much for my opinion of my pupil, but he will value very highly the opinion of the Honourable Mr. Fitz-Urse." For a moral man, was not the little knight a clever fellow? He had bought INIr. Squinny for a dinner worth ten shillings, and for a ride in a carriage with a lord's son. Squinny was carried to Brompton, and set down at his aunt's door, delighted with his new friends, and ex- ceedingly sick with a cigar they had made him smoke. THE RAVENSWING 383 CHAPTER VIII IN WHICH MR. WALKER SHOWS GREAT PRUDENCE AND FORBEARANCE THE describing of all these persons does not advance INIorgiana's story much. But, perhaps, some coun- try readers are not acquainted with the class of persons by whose printed opinions they are guided, and are sim- ple enough to imagine that mere merit will make a repu- tation on the stage or elsewhere. The making of a the- atrical success is a much more complicated and curious thing than such persons fancy it to be. Immense are the pains taken to get a good word from Mr. This of the Star, or Mr. That of the Courier, to propitiate the favour of the critic of the day, and get the editors of the me- tropolis into a good humour, — above all, to have the name of the person to be puffed perpetually before the public. Artists cannot be advertised like Macassar oil or blacking, and they want it to the full as much ; hence endless ingenuity must be practised in order to keep the popular attention awake. Suppose a great actor moves from I^ondon to Windsor, the Brentford Champion must state, that " Yesterday Mr. Blazes and suite passed rapidly through our city ; the celebrated comedian is en- gaged, we hear, at Windsor, to give some of his inimi- table readings of our great national bard to the mont illustrious audience in the realm." This piece of intelli- gence the II ainmersmitli Observer will (juestion the next week, as thus: — "A contemporary, the Brentford Cham- pion, says tliat Blazes is engaged to give Shaks])ercan readings at Windsor to ' the most illustrious audience in 384 MEN'S WIVES the realm.' We question this fact very much. We would, indeed, that it were true ; but the most illustrious audience in the realm prefer foreign melodies to the na- tive wood-notes wild of the sweet song-bird of Avon. Mr. Blazes is simply gone to Eton, where his son, Mas- ter Massinger Blazes, is suffering, we regret to hear, under a severe attack of the chicken-pox. This com- plaint (incident to youth) has raged, we understand, with frightful virulence in Eton School." And if, after the above paragraphs, some London paper chooses to attack the folly of the provincial press, which talks of JVIr. Blazes, and chronicles his movements, as if he were a crowned head, what harm is done? Blazes can write in his own name to the London journal and say that it is not his fault if provincial journals choose to chronicle his movements, and tliat he was far from wish- ing that the afflictions of those who are dear to him should form the subject of public comment, and be held up to public ridicule. " We had no intention of hurting the feelings of an estimable public servant," writes the editor; " and our remarks on the chicken-pox were gen- eral, not personal. We sincerely trust that Master Mas- singer Blazes has recovered from that complaint, and that he may pass through the measles, the whooping- cough, the fourth form, and all other diseases to which youth is subject, with comfort to himself, and credit to his parents and teachers." At his next ajjpearance on the stage after this controversy, a British public calls for Blazes three times after the play; and somehow there is sure to be some one with a laurel-wreath in a stage-box, who flings that chaplet at the inspired artist's feet. I don't know^ how it was, but before the debut of JNIor- giana, the English press began to heave and throb in a THE RAVENSWING 385 convulsive manner, as if indicative of the near birth of some great thing. For instance, you read in one paper,— " Anecdote of Karl Maria Von Weher.—When the author of Oberon was in England, he was invited by a noble duke to dinner, and some of the most celebrated of our artists were assembled to meet him. The signal being given to descend to the salle-a- manger, the German composer was invited by his noble host (a bachelor) to lead the way. ' Is it not the fashion in your coun- try,' said he, simply, ' for the man of the first eminence to take the first place? Here is one whose genius entitles him to be first anywhere.' And, so saying, he pointed to our admirable Eng- lish composer, Sir George Thrum. The two musicians were friends to the last, and Sir George has still the identical piece of rosin which the author of the Freischutz gave him."— T/i^ Moon (morning paper), 2d June. " George III. a composer. — Sir George Thrum has in his pos- session the score of an air, the words from Samson Agonistes, an autograph of the late revered monarch. We hear that that ex- cellent composer has in store for us not only an opera, but a pupil, with whose transcendent merits the elite of our aristocracy are already familiar."— 76id. June 5. " Music with a Vengeance.— The march to the sound of which the 49th and 75th regiments rushed up the breach of Badajoz was the celebrated air from Britons Alarmed; or, the Siege of Bergen-op-Zoom, by our famous English composer. Sir George Thrum. Marshal Davoust said that the French line never stood when that air was performed to the charge of the bayonet. We hear the veteran musician has an opera now about to appear, and have no doubt that Old England will now, as then, show its su- periority over all foreign opponents." — Albion. " We have been accused of preferring the produit of the Stran- ger to the talent of our own native shores ; but those who speak so, 386 MEN'S WIVES little know us. We are fanatici per la musica wherever it be, and welcome merit dans chaque pays clu monde. What do we sa}'? Le merite na point de pays, as Napoleon said; and Sir George Thrum (Chevalier de I'ordre de I'Elephant et Chateau, de Panama) is a maestro whose fame appartient a VEurope. " We have just heard the lovely eleve, whose rare qualities the cavaliere has brought to perfection, — we have heard The Ra- vENSwiNG {pourquoi caclier un nom que demain un monde va saluer), and a creature more beautiful and gifted never bloomed before dans nos climats. She sang the delicious duet of the ' Nabucodonosore,' with Count Pizzicato, with a hellezza, a grandezza, a raggio, that excited in the bosom of the audience a corresponding furore: her scherzando was exquisite, though we confess we thought the concluding fioritura in the passage in y flat a leetle, a very leetle sforzata. Surely the words, ' Giorno d'orrore, Delire, dolore, Nabucodonosore,' should be given andante, and not con strepito: but this is a faute bien legere in the midst of such unrivalled excellence, and only mentioned here that we may have something to criticise. " We hear that the enterprising impresario of one of the royal theatres has made an engagement with the Diva ; and, if we have a regret, it is that she should be compelled to sing in the un- fortunate language of our rude northern clime, which does not preter itself near so well to the hocca of the cantatrice as do the mellifluous accents of the Lingua Toscana, the langue par excellence of song. " The Ravenswing's voice is a magnificent contra-basso of nine octaves," kc— Flowers of Fashion, June 10. " Old Thrum, the composer, is bringing out an opera and a pupil. The opera is good, the pupil first-rate. The opera will do much more than compete with the infernal twaddle and dis- THE RAVENSWING 387 gusting slip-slop of Donizetti, and the milk-and-water fools who imitate him: it will (and we ask the readers of the Toma- hawk, were we ever mistaken?) surpass all these; it is good, of downright English stuff. The airs are fresh and pleasing, the choruses large and noble, the instrumentation solid and rich, the music is carefully written. We wish old Thrum and his opera well. " His pupil is a sure card, a splendid woman, and a splendid singer. She is so handsome that she might sing as much out of tune as Miss Ligonier, and the public would forgive her; and sings so well, that were she as ugly as the aforesaid Ligonier, the audience would listen to her. The Ravenswing, that is her fantastical theatrical name (her real name is the same with that of a notorious scoundrel in the Fleet, who invented the Panama swindle, the Pontine :Marshes' swindle, the soap swindle— /lotc; are you off for soap now, Mr. W-lk-r.?)— the Ravenswing, we say, will do. Slang has engaged her at thirty guineas per week, and she appears next month in Thrum's opera, of which the words are written by a great ass with some talent— we mean Mr. Mulligan. " There is a foreign fool in the Flowers of Fashion who is doing his best to disgust the public by his filthy flattery. It is enough to make one sick. Why is the foreign beast not kicked out of the paper.? " — The Tomahawk, June 17. The three first " anecdotes " were supplied by :Mulli- gan to his paper, with many others which need not here be repeated : he kept them up with amazing energy and variety. Anecdotes of Sir George Thrum met you un- expectedly in queer corners of country papers: puffs of the English school of music appeared perpetually in " notices to correspondents " in the Sunday prints, some of which Mr. Slang commanded, and in others over which the indefatigable Mulligan had a control. This youth was the soul of the little conspiracy for raising 388 MEN'S WIVES Morgiana into fame : and humble as he is, and great and respectable as is Sir George Thi-um, it is my belief that the Ravenswing would never have been the Ravenswing she is but for the ingenuity and energy of the honest Hibernian reporter. It is only the business of the great man who writes the leading articles which appear in the large type of the daily papers to compose those astonishing pieces of elo- quence ; the other parts of the paper are left to the inge- nuity of the sub-editor, whose duty it is to select para- graphs, reject or receive horrid accidents, police reports, &c. ; with which, occupied as he is in the exerise of his tremendous functions, the editor himself cannot be ex- pected to meddle. The fate of Europe is his province; the rise and fall of empires, and the great questions of State demand the editor's attention : the humble pufF, the paragraph about the last murder, or the state of the crops, or the sewers in Chancery Lane, is confided to the care of the sub. ; and it is curious to see what a prodigious number of Irishmen exist among the sub-editors of Lon- don. When the Liberator enumerates the services of his countrymen, how the battle of Fontenoy was won by the Irish Brigade, how the battle of Waterloo would have been lost but for the Irish regiments, and enumerates other acts for which we are indebted to Milesian heroism and genius, — he ought at least to mention the Irish bri- gade of the press, and the amazing services they do to this country. The truth is, the Irish reporters and soldiers appear to do their duty right well ; and my friend Mr. Mulligan is one of the former. Having the interests of his opera and the Ravenswing strongly at heart, and being amongst his brethren an exceedingly popular fellow, he THE RAVENSWING 389 managed matters so that never a day passed but some paragraph appeared somewhere regarding the new singer, in whom, for their countryman's sake, all his bro- thers and sub-editors felt an interest. These puffs, destined to make known to all the world the merits of the Ravenswing, of course had an effect upon a gentleman very closely connected with that lady, the respectable prisoner in the Fleet, Captain Walker. As long as he received his weekly two guineas from Mr. Woolsey, and the occasional half-crowns which his wife could spare in her almost dailj^ visits to him, he had never troubled himself to inquire what her pursuits were, and had allowed her ( though the worthy woman longed with all her might to betray herself) to keep her secret. He was far from thinking, indeed, that his wife would prove such a treasure to him. But when the voice of fame and the columns of the public journals brought him each day some new story re- garding the merits, genius, and beauty of the Ravens- wing; when rumours reached him that she was the fa- vourite pupil of Sir George Thrum; when she brought him five guineas after singing at the " Philharmonic " (other five the good soul had spent in purchasing some smart new cockades, hats, cloaks, and laces, for her little son) ; when, finally, it was said that Slang, the great manager, offered her an engagement at thirty guineas per week, Mr. Walker became exceedingly interested in his wife's proceedings, of which he demanded from her the fullest explanation. Using his marital authority, he absolutely forbade Mrs. Walker's appearance on the public stage ; he wrote to Sir George Thrum a letter expressive of his highest indignation that negotiations so important should ever 390 MEN'S WIVES have been commenced without his authorisation; and he wrote to his dear Slang (for these gentlemen were very intimate, and in the course of his transactions as an agent Mr. W. had had many dealings with Mr. S.) asking his dear Slang whether the latter thought his friend Walker would be so green as to allow his wife to appear on the stage, and he remain in prison with all his debts on his head? And it was a curious thing now to behold how eager those very creditors who but yesterday (and with perfect correctness) had denounced ^Ir. Walker as a swindler; who had refused to come to any composition with him, and had sworn never to release him ; how they on a sud- den became quite eager to come to an arrangement with him, and offered, nay, begged and prayed him to go free,— only giving them his own and Mrs. Walker's ac- knowledgment of their debt, with a promise that a part of the lady's salary should be devoted to the payment of the claim. " The lady's salary! " said Mr. Walker, indignantly, to these gentlemen and their attorneys. " Do you sup- pose I will allow Mrs. Walker to go on the stage?— do you suppose I am such a fool as to sign bills to the full amount of these claims against me, when in a few months more I can walk out of prison without paying a shilling? Gentlemen, you take Howard Walker for an idiot. I like the Fleet, and rather than pay I'll stay here for these ten years." In other words, it was the Captain's determination to make some advantageous bargain for himself with his creditors and the gentlemen who were interested in bringing forward Mrs. Walker on the stage. And who can say that in so determining he did not act with laud- able prudence and justice? THE RAVENSWING 391 " You do not, surely, consider, my very dear sir, that half the amount of Mrs. AValker's salaries is too much for my immense trouble and pains in teaching her? " cried Sir George Thrum (who, in reply to Walker's note, thought it most prudent to wait personally on that gentleman) . " Remember that I am the first master in England ; that I have the best interest in England ; that I can bring her out at the Palace, and at every concert and musical festival in England; that I am obliged to teach her every single note that she utters; and that without me she could no more sing a song than her little baby could walk without its nurse." " I believe about half what you say," said Mr. Walker. " My dear Captain Walker! would you question my integrity? Who was it that made ^Irs. Millington's for- tune,— the celebrated INIrs. ^lillington, who has now got a hundred thousand pounds? Who was it that brought out the finest tenor in Europe, Poppleton? Ask the musical world, ask those great artists themselves, and they will tell you they owe their reputation, their for- tune, to Sir George Thrum." " It is very likely," replied the Captain, coolly. " You are a good master, I dare say. Sir George ; but I am not going to article ^Irs. Walker to you fo^ three years, and sign her articles in the Fleet. Mrs. Walker shan't sing till I'm a free man, that's flat: if I stay here till you're dead she shan't." " Gracious powers, sir! " exclaimed Sir George, " do you expect me to pay your debts? " " Yes, old boy," answered the Captain, " and to give me something handsome in hand, too; and that's my ultimatum: and so I Avish you good morning, for I'm engaged to play a match at tennis below." This little interview exceedingly frightened the 392 MEN'S WIVES worthy knight, who went home to his lady in a dehrious state of alarm occasioned by the audacity of Captain Walker. Mr. Slang's interview with him was scarcely more satisfactory. He owed, he said, four thousand pounds. His creditors might be brought to compound for five shillings in the pound. He would not consent to allow his wife to make a single engagement until the creditors were satisfied, and until he had a handsome sum in hand to begin the world with. " Unless my wife comes out, you'll be in the Gazette yourself, you know you will. So you may take her or leave her, as you think fit." " Let her sing one night as a trial," said Mr. Slang. " If she sings one night, the creditors will want their money in full," repHed the Captain. " I shan't let her labour, poor thing, for the profit of those scoundrels! " added the prisoner, with much feeling. And Slang left him with a much greater respect for Walker than he had ever before possessed. He was struck with the gallantry of the man who could triumph over mis- fortunes, nay, make misfortune itself an engine of good luck. Mrs. Walker was instructed instantly to have a severe sore throat. The journals in Mr. Slang's interest de- plored this illness pathetically; while the papers in the interest of the opposition theatre magnified it with great malice. " The new singer," said one, " the great wonder which Slang promised us, is as hoarse as araven! " " Dr. Thorax pronounces," wrote another paper, " that the quinsy, which has suddenly prostrated Mrs. Ravens- wing, whose singing at the ' Philharmonic,' previous to her appearance at the * T. R ,' excited so much ap- plause, has destroyed the lady's voice for ever. We THE RAVEN SWING 393 luckily need no other prima donna, when that place, as nightly thousands acknowledge, is held by Miss Ligonier." The Looker-on said, " That although some well-informed contemporaries had declared Mrs. W. Ravenswing's complaint to be a quinsy, others, on whose authority they could equally rely, had pronounced it to be a consumption. At all events, she was in an exceedingly dangerous state; from which, though we do not expect, we heartil}^ trust she may recover. Opinions differ as to the merits of this lady, some saying that she was alto- gether inferior to Miss Ligonier, while other connois- seurs declare the latter lady to be by no means so accom- plished a person. This point, we fear," continued the Looker-on, " can never now be settled; unless, which we fear is improbable, Mrs. Ravenswing should ever so far recover as to be able to make her debut; and even then, the new singer will not have a fair chance unless her voice and strength shall be fully restored. This in- formation, which we have from exclusive resources, may be relied on," concluded the Looker-on, " as authentic." It was Mr. Walker himself, that artful and audacious Fleet prisoner, who concocted those very paragraphs against his wife's health which appeared in the journals of the Ligonier party. The partisans of that lady were delighted, the creditors of Mr. Walker astounded, at reading them. Even Sir George Thrum was taken in, and came to the Fleet prison in considerable alarm. " Mum's the word, my good sir! " said Mr. Walker. " Now is the time to make arrangements with the cred- itors." Well, these arrangements were finally made. It does not matter how many shillings in the pound satisfied 394 MEN'S WIVES the rapacious creditors of Morgiana's husband. But it is certain that her voice returned to her all of a sudden upon the Captain's release. The papers of the Mulligan faction again trumpeted her perfections ; the agreement with Mr. Slang was concluded; that with Sir George Thrum the great composer satisfactorily arranged ; and the new opera underlined in immense capitals in the bills, and put in rehearsal with immense expenditure on the part of the scene-painter and costumier. Need we tell with what triumphant success the " Brig- and's Bride " was received? All the Irish sub-editors the next morning took care to have such an account of it as made Miss Ligonier and Baroski die with envy. All the reporters who could spare time were in the boxes to sup- port their friend's work. All the journeymen tailors of the establishment of Linsey, Woolsey and Co., had pit tickets given to them, and applauded with all their might. All Mr. Walker's friends of the " Regent Club " lined the side-boxes with white kid gloves; and in a little box by themselves sat Mrs. Crump and Mr. Woolsey, a great deal too much agitated to applaud— so agitated, that Woolsey even forgot to fling down the bouquet he had brought for the Ravenswing. But there was no lack of those horticultural orna- ments. The theatre servants wheeled away a wheelbar- row-full (which were flung on the stage the next night over again ) ; and Morgiana blushing, panting, weeping, was led off by Mr. Poppleton, the eminent tenor, who had crowned her with one of the most conspicuous of the chaplets. Here she flew to her husband, and flung her arms round his neck. He was flirting behind the side-scenes with Mademoiselle Flicflac, who had been dancing in the THE RAVEN SWING 395 divertissement; and was probably the only man in the theatre of those -who witnessed the embrace that did not care for it. Even Slang was affected, and said with per- fect sincerity that he wished he had been in Walker's place. The manager's fortune was made, at least for the season. He acknowledged so much to Walker, who took a week's salary for his wife in advance that verj^ night. There w^as, as usual, a grand supper in the green-room. The terrible ]Mr. Bludyer appeared in a new coat of the wTll-known Woolsey cut, and the little tailor himself and JNIrs. Crump were not the least happy of the party. But when the Ravenswing took Woolsey's hand, and said she never would have been there but for him, Mr. Walker looked very grave, and hinted to her that she must not, in her position, encourage the attentions of persons in that rank of life. " I shall pay," said he, proudly, *' every farthing that is owing to Mr. Woolsej^ and shall employ him for the future. But you understand, my love, that one cannot at one's o\\ti table receive one's own tailor." Slang proposed Morgiana's health in a tremendous speech, which elicited cheers, and laughter, and sobs, such as only managers have the art of drawing from the the- atrical gentlemen and ladies in their employ. It was observed, especially among the chorus-singers at the bot- tom of the table, that their emotion was intense. They had a meeting the next day and voted a piece of plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his eminent services in the cause of the drama. Walker returned thanks for his lady. That was, he said, the proudest moment of his life. He was proud to think that he had educated her for the stage, happy to think that his sufferings had not been in vain, and that 390 MEN'S WIVES his exertions in her behalf were crowned with full suc- cess. In her name and his own he thanked the company, and sat down, and was once more particularly attentive to Mademoiselle Flicflac. Then came an oration from Sir George Thrum, in re- ply to Slang's toast to him. It was very much to the same effect as the speech by Walker, the two gentlemen attributing to themselves individually the merit of bring- ing out Mrs. Walker. He concluded by stating that he should always hold Mrs. Walker as the daughter of his heart, and to the last moment of his life should love and cherish her. It is certain that Sir George was exceed- ingly elated that night, and would have been scolded by his lady on his return home, but for the triumph of the evening. Mulligan's speech of thanks, as author of the " Brig- and's Bride," was, it must be confessed, extremely te- dious. It seemed there would be no end to it; when he got upon the subject of Ireland especially, which some- how was found to be intimately connected with the in- terests of music and the theatre. Even the choristers pooh-poohed this speech, coming though it did from the successful author, whose songs of wine, love, and battle, they had been repeating that night. The " Brigand's Bride " ran for many nights. Its choruses were tuned on the organs of the day. Morgi- ana's airs, " The Rose upon my Balcony " and " The Lightning on the Cataract " (recitative and scena) were on everybody's lips, and brought so many guineas to Sir George Thrum that he was encouraged to have his por- trait engraved, which still may be seen in the music- shops. Not many persons, I believe, bought proof im- pressions of the plate, price two guineas ; whereas, on the THE RAVENSWING 397 contrary, all the young clerks in banks, and all the fast young men of the universities, had pictures of the Ra- venswing in their apartments— as Biondetta (the brig- and's bride) , as Zelyma (in the "Xuptials of Benares") , as Barbareska (in the " ^Mine of Tobolsk "), and in all her famous characters. In the latter she disguises her- self as an Uhlan, in order to save her father, who is in prison ; and the Ravenswing looked so fascinating in this costume in pantaloons and yellow boots, that Slang was for having her instantly in Captain Macheath, whence arose their quarrel. She was replaced at Slang's theatre by Snooks, the rhinoceros-tamer, with his breed of wild buffaloes. Their success was immense. Slang gave a supper, at which all the company burst into tears; and assembling in the green-room next day, they, as usual, voted a piece of plate to Adolphus Slang, Esq., for his eminent ser- vices to the drama. In the Captain Macheath dispute Mr. Walker would have had his wife yield ; but on this point, and for once, she disobeyed her husband and left the theatre. And when Walker cursed her (according to his wont) for her abominable selfishness and disregard of his property, she burst into tears and said she had spent but twenty guin- eas on herself and baby during the year, that her the- atrical dressmaker's bills were yet unpaid, and that she had never asked him how much he spent on that odious French figurante. All this was true, except about the French figurante. Walker, as the lord and master, received all Morgiana's earnings, and spent them as a gentleman should. lie gave very neat dinners at a cottage in the Regent's Park (Mr. and Mrs. Walker lived in Green Street, Grosvenor 398 MEN'S WIVES Square), he played a good deal at the " Regent; " but as to the French figurante, it must be confessed, that Mrs. Walker was in a sad error : that lady and the Cap- tain had parted long ago; it was Madame Dolores de Tras-os-Montes who inliabited the cottage in St. John's Wood now. But if some little errors of this kind might be attribu- table to the Captain, on the other hand, when his wife was in the provinces, he was the most attentive of hus- bands ; made all her bargains, and received every shilling before he would permit her to sing a note. Thus he pre- vented her from being cheated, as a person of her easy temper doubtless would have been, by designing mana- gers and needy concert-givers. They always travelled with four horses; and Walker was adored in every one of the principal hotels in England. The waiters flew at his bell. The chambermaids were afraid he was a sad naughty man, and thought his wife no such great beauty ; the landlords preferred him to any duke. He never looked at their bills, not he ! In fact his income was at least four thousand a year for some years of his life. Master Woolsey Walker was put to Dr. Wapshot's seminary, whence, after many disputes on the doctor's part as to getting his half-year's accounts paid, and after much complaint of ill-treatment on the little boy's side, he was withdrawn, and placed under the care of the Rev. Mr. Swishtail, at Turnham Green; where all his bills are paid by his godfather, now the head of the firm of Wool- sey and Co. As a gentleman, Mr. Walker still declines to see him; but he has not, as far as I have heard, paid the sums of money which he threatened to refund ; and, as he is sel- dom at home, the worthy tailor can come to Green Street THE RAVENSWING 399 at his leisure. He and Mrs. Crump, and ^Irs. Walker, often take the omnibus to Brentford, and a cake with them to little Woolsey at school ; to whom the tailor says he will leave every shilling of his property. The Walkers have no other children; but when she takes her airing in the Park she always turns away at the sight of a low phaeton, in which sits a woman with rouged cheeks, and a great number of over-dressed chil- dren with a French bonne, whose name, I am given to understand, is ^ladame Dolores de Tras-os-Montes. JNIadame de Tras-os-Montes always puts a great gold glass to her eye as the Ravenswing's carriage passes, and looks into it with a sneer. The two coachmen used al- ways to exchange queer winks at each other in the ring, until Madame de Tras-os-^Iontes lately adopted a tre- mendous chasseur, with huge whiskers and a green and gold livery; since which time the formerly named gen- tlemen do not recognize each other. The Ravenswing's life is one of perpetual triumph on the stage ; and, as every one of the fashionable men about town have been in love with her, you may fancy what a pretty character she has. Lady Thrum would die sooner than speak to that unhappy young woman ; and, in fact, the Thrums have a new pupil, who is a siren without the dangerous qualities of one, who has tlie person of a Venus and the mind of a Muse, and who is coming out at one of the theatres immediately. Baroski says, " De liddle Rafenschwing is just as font of me as efFer!" People are very shy about receiving her in society! and when she goes to sing at a concert. Miss Prim starts u]) and skurries off in a state of the greatest alarm, lest " that person " should speak to her. Walker is voted a good, easy, rattling, gentlemanly 400 MEN'S WIVES fellow, and nobody's enemy but his own. His wife, they say, is dreadfully extravagant; and, indeed, since his marriage, and, in spite of his wife's large income, he has been in the Bench several times ; but she signs some bills and he comes out again, and is as gay and genial as ever. All mercantile speculations he has wisely long since given up; he likes to throw a main of an evening, as I have said, and to take his couple of bottles at dinner. On Friday he attends at the theatre for his wife's salary, and transacts no other business during the week. He grows exceedingly stout, dyes his hair, and has a bloated purple look about the nose and cheeks, very different from that which first charmed the heart of Morgiana. By the way. Eglantine has been turned out of the Bower of Bloom, and now keeps a shop at Tunbridge Wells. Going down thither last year without a razor, I asked a fat, seedy man, lolling in a faded nankeen jacket at the door of a tawdry little shop in the Pantiles, to shave me. He said in reply, " Sir, I do not practise in that branch of the profession! " and turned back into the little shop. It was Archibald Eglantine. But in the wreck of his fortunes, he still has his captain's uniform, and his grand cross of the order of the Elephant and Castle of Panama. POSTSCRIPT G. FITZ-BOODLE, ESQ., TO O. YORKE, ESQ. Zum Trierisclien Hof, Coblenz, July 10, 1843. My dear Yorke, — The story of the Ravenswing was written a long time since, and I never could account for the bad taste of the publishers of the metropolis who refused it an insertion in their various magazines. This fact would never have been alluded to but for the following circumstance: — Only yesterday, as I was dining at this excellent hotel, I re- THE RAVENSWING 401 marked a bald-headed gentleman in a blue coat and brass but- tons, who looked like a colonel on half-pay, and by his side a lady and a little boy of twelve, whom the gentleman was cram- ming with an amazing quantity of cherries and cakes. A stout old dame in a wonderful cap and ribands was seated by the lady's side, and it was easy to see they were English, and I thought I had already made their acquaintance elsewhere. The younger of the ladies at last made a bow with an accom- panying blush. " Surely," said I, " I have the honour of speaking to Mrs. Ravenswing? " " Mrs. WooLSEY, sir," said the gentleman ; " my wife has long since left the stage : " and at this the old lady in the wonderful cap trod on my toes very severelj'^, and nodded her head and all her ribands in a most mysterious way. Presently the two ladies rose and left the table, the elder declaring that she heard the baby crying. " Woolsey my dear, go with your mamma," said Mr. Woolsey, patting the boy on the head: the young gentleman obeyed the command, earring off a plate of macaroons with him. " Your son is a fine boy, sir," said I. " My step-son, sir," answered INIr. Woolsey ; and added in a louder voice, " I knew you, Mr. Fitz-Boodlc, at once, but did not mention your name for fear of agitating my wife. She don't like to have the memory of old times renewed, sir ; her former hus- band, whom you knew. Captain Walker, made her very un- happy. He died in America, sir, of this, I fear" (pointing to the bottle), " and Mrs. W. quitted the stage a year before I quitted business. Are you going on to Wiesbaden.'' " They went off in their carriage that evening, the boy on the box making great efforts to blow out of the postilion's tasscllcd horn. I am glad that poor Morgiana is happy at last, and hasten to inform you of the fact: I am going to visit the old haunts of my youth at Pumpernickel. Adieu. Yours, G. F. B. MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY CHAPTER I THE FIGHT AT SLAUGHTER HOUSE I AM very fond of reading about battles, and have most of Marlborough's and Wellington's at my fin- gers' ends ; but the most tremendous combat I ever saw, and one that interests me to think of more than INIal- plaquet or Waterloo (which, by the way, has grown to be a downright nuisance, so much do men talk of it after dinner, prating most disgustingly about " the Prussians coming up," and what not) —I say the most tremendous combat ever known was that between Berry and Biggs the gown-boy, which commenced in a certain place called Middle Briars, situated in the midst of the cloisters that run along the side of the playground of Slaughter House School, near Smithfield, London. It was there, madam, that your humble servant had the honour of ac- quiring, after six years' labour, that immense fund of classical knowledge which in after life has been so ex- ceedingly useful to him. The circumstances of the quarrel were these:— Biggs, the gown-boy (a man who, in those days, I thought was at least seven feet high, and was quite thunderstruck to find in after life that he measured no more than five feet 402 MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY 403 four) , was what we called " second cock " of the school; the first cock was a great big, good-humoured, lazy, fair- haired fellow, Old Hawkins by name, who, because he was large and good-humoured, hurt nobody. Biggs, on the contrary, was a sad bully ; he had half-a-dozen fags, and beat them all unmercifully. JNIoreover, he had a little brother, a boarder in Potky's house, whom, as a matter of course, he hated and maltreated worse than any one else. Well, one day, because young Biggs had not brought his brother his hoops, or had not caught a ball at cricket, or for some other equally good reason. Biggs the elder so belaboured the poor little fellow, that Berry, who was sauntering by, and saw the dreadful blows which the elder brother was dealing to the younger with his hockey- stick, felt a compassion for the little fellow (perhaps he had a jealousy agahist Biggs, and wanted to try a few rounds with him, but that I can't vouch for) ; however. Berry passing by, stopped and said, " Don't j^ou think you have thrashed the boy enough, Biggs? " He spoke this in a very civil tone, for he never would have thought of interfering rudely with the sacred privilege that an upper boy at a public school always has of beating a junior, especially when they happen to be brothers. The reply of Biggs, as might be expected, was to hit young Biggs with the hockey-stick twice as hard as be- fore, until the little wretch howled with pain. " I sup- pose it's no business of yours. Berry," said Biggs, thump- ing away all the while, and laid on worse and worse. Until Berry (and, indeed, little Biggs) could bear it no longer, and the former, bouncing forward, wrenched the stick out of old Biggs' liands, and sent it whirling out of the cloister window, to the great wonder of a crowd of 404 MEN'S WIVES us small boys, who were looking on. Little boys always like to see a little companion of their own soundly beaten. "There!" said Berry, looking into Biggs' face, as much as to say, " I've gone and done it; " and he added to the brother, " Scud away, you little thief! I've saved you this time." " Stop, young Biggs! " roared out his brother after a pause; "and I'll break every bone in your infernal, scoundrelly skin! " Young Biggs looked at Berry, then at his brother, then came at his brother's order, as if back to be beaten again, but lost heart and ran away as fast as his little legs could carry him. " I'll do for him another time," said Biggs. " Here, under-boy, take my coat; " and we all began to gather round and formed a ring. " We had better wait till after school. Biggs," cried Berry, quite cool, but looking a little pale. " There are only five minutes now, and it will take you more than that to thrash me." Biggs upon this committed a great error; for he struck Berry slightly across the face with the back of his hand, saying, " You are in a funk." But this was a feeling which Frank Berry did not in the least entertain; for in reply to Biggs' back -bander, and as quick as thought, and with all his might and main— pong! he delivered a blow upon old Biggs' nose that made the claret spirt, and sent the second cock down to the ground as if he had been shot. He was up again, however, in a minute, his face white and gashed with blood, his eyes glaring, a ghastly spec- tacle ; and Berry, meanwhile, had taken his coat off, and by this time there were gathered in the cloisters, on all MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY 405 the windows, and upon each other's shoulders, one hvni- dred and twenty young gentlemen at the very least, for the news had gone out through the playground of " a fight between Berry and Biggs." But Berry was quite right in his remark about the propriety of deferring the business, for at this minute Mr. Chip, the second master, came down the cloisters going into school, and grinned in his queer way as he saw the state of Biggs' face. " Holloa, Mr. Biggs," said he, " I suppose you have run against a finger-post." That was the regular joke with us at school, and you may be sure we all laughed heartily : as we always did when Mr. Chip made a joke, or anything like a joke. " You had better go to the pump, sir, and get yourself washed, and not let Dr. Buckle see you in that condition." So saying, Mr. Chip disappeared to his duties in the under-school, whither all we little boys followed him. It was Wednesday, a half -holiday, as everybody knows, and boiled-beef day at Slaughter House. I was in the same boarding-house with Berry, and we all looked to see whether he ate a good dinner, just as one would examine a man who was going to be hanged. I recol- lected, in after-life, in Germany, seeing a friend who was going to fight a duel, eat five larks for his breakfast, and thought I had seldom witnessed greater courage. Berry ate moderately of the boiled heef— boiled child we used to call it at school, in our elegant, jocular way; he knew a great deal better than to load his stomach upon the eve of such a contest as was going to take place. Dinner was very soon over, and Mr. Chip, who had been all the while joking Berry, and pressing him to eat, called him up into his study, to the great disappointment of us all, for we thought he was going to prevent the 406 MEN'S WIVES fight; but no such thing. The Rev. Edward Chip took Berry into his study, and poured him out two glasses of port-wine, which he made him take with a biscuit, and patted him on the back, and went off. I have no doubt he was longing, like all of us, to see the battle; but eti- quette, you know, forbade. When we went out into the green, Old Hawkins was there— the great Hawkins, the cock of the school. I have never seen the man since, but still think of him as of something awful, gigantic, mysterious; he who could thrash everybody, who could beat all the masters: how we longed for him to put in his hand and lick Buckle 1 He was a dull boy, not very high in the school, and had all his exercises written for him. Buckle knew this, but respected him ; never called him up to read Greek plays ; passed over all his blunders, which were many; let him go out of half -holidays into the town as he pleased : how should any man dare to stop him— the great, calm, mag- nanimous, silent Strength! They say he licked a Life- Guardsman ; I wonder whether it was Shaw, who killed all those Frenchmen? no, it could not be Shaw, for he was dead mi champ d'honneur; but he would have licked Shaw if he had been alive. A bargeman I know he licked, at Jack Randall's in Slaughter House Lane. Old Hawkins was too lazy to play at cricket; he saun- tered all day in the sunshine about the green, accom- panied by little Tippins, who was in the sixth form, laughed and joked at Hawkins eternally, and was the person who wrote all his exercises. Instead of going into town this afternoon, Hawkins remained at Slaughter House, to see the great fight be- tween the second and third cocks. The different masters of the school kept boarding- MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY 407 houses ( such as Potky's, Chip's, Wicken's, Pinney's, and so on) , and the playground or " green," as it was called, although the only thing green about the place was the broken glass on the walls that separate Slaughter House from Wilderness Row and Goswell Street — (many a time have I seen Mr. Pickwick look out of his window in that street, though we did not know him then) — the play- ground, or green, was common to all. But if any stray boy from Potky's was found, for instance, in, or entering into, Chip's house, the most dreadful tortures were prac- tised upon him : as I can answer in my own case. Fancy, then, our astonishment at seeing a little three- foot wretch, of the name of Wills, one of Hawkins's fags (they were both in Potky's), walk undismayed amongst us lions at Chip's house, as the " rich and rare " young lady did in Ireland. We were going to set upon him and devour or otherwise maltreat him, when he cried out in a little shrill, impertinent voice, " Tell Berry I want Mm! " We all roared with laughter. Berry was in the sixth form, and Wills or any under-boy would as soon have thought of " wanting " him, as I should of wanting the Duke of Wellington. Little Wills looked round in an imperious kind of way. " Well," says he, stamping his foot, "do you hear? Tell Berry that Hawkins wants Mm! " As for resisting the law of Hawkins, you might as soon think of resisting immortal Jove. Berry and Tol- mash, who was to be his bottle-holder, made their appear- ance immediately, and walked out into the green where Hawkins was waiting, and, with an irresistible audacity that only belonged to himself, in the face of nature and all the regulations of the place, was smoking a cigar. 408 MEN'S WIVES When Berry and Tolmash found him, the three began slowly pacing up and down in the sunshine, and we little boys watched them. Hawkins moved his arms and hands eveiy now and then, and was evidently laying down the law about box- ing. We saw his fists darting out every now and then with mysterious swiftness, hitting one, two, quick as thought, as if in the face of an adversary; now his left hand went up, as if guarding his own head, now his im- mense right fist dreadfully flapped the air, as if punish- ing his imaginary opponent's miserable ribs. The con- versation lasted for some ten minutes, about which time gown-boys' dinner was over, and we saw these youths in their black, horned-button jackets and knee-breeches, is- suing from their door in the cloisters. There were no hoops, no cricket-bats, as usual on a half -holiday. Who would have thought of play in expectation of such tre- mendous sport as was in store for us ? Towering among the gown-boys, of whom he was the head and the tyrant, leaning upon Bushby's arm, and followed at a little distance by many curious, pale, awe- stricken boys, dressed in his black silk stockings, which he alwa^^s sported, and with a crimson bandanna tied round his waist, came Biggs. His nose was swollen with the blow given before school, but his eyes flashed fire. He w^as laughing and sneering with Bushby, and evidently intended to make minced meat of Berry. The betting began pretty freely : the bets were against poor Berry. Five to three were offered — in ginger-beer. I took six to four in raspberry open tarts. The upper boys carried the thing farther still: and I know for a fact, that Swang's book amounted to four pound three MR. AND jyiRS. FRANK B^ERRY 409 (but he hedged a good deal) , and Tittery lost seventeen shillings in a single bet to Pitts, who took the odds. As Biggs and his party arrived, I heard Hawkins say to Berry, " For heaven's sake, my boy, fib with your right, and mind his left hand! " ]\Iiddle Briars was voted to be too confined a space for the combat, and it was agreed that it should take place behind the under-school in the shade, whither we all went. Hawkins, with his immense silver hunting-watch, kept the time ; and water was brought from the pump close to Notley's the pastrycook's, who did not admire fisticuffs at all on half -holidays, for the fights kept the boys away from his shop. Gutley was the only fellow in the school who remained faithful to him, and he sat on the counter —the great gormandising brute!— eating tarts the whole day. This famous fight, as every Slaughter House man knows, lasted for two hours and twenty-nine minutes, by Hawkins's immense watch. All this time the air re- sounded with cries of " Go it, Berry ! " " Go it, Biggs ! " " Pitch into him! " " Give it him! " and so on. Shall I describe the hundred and two rounds of the combat?— No!— It would occupy too much space, and the taste for such descriptions has passed away.^ 1st round. Both the combatants fresh, and in prime order. The weight and inches somewhat on the gown- boy's side. Berry goes gallantly in, and delivers a clinker on the gown-boy's jaw. Biggs makes play with his left. Berry down, ******* ^ As it is very probable that many fair readers may not approve of the ex- tremely forcible lanf^iiaj^e in whicli the comivit is (Icpicted, I l)e>^ them to skip it and pass on to the next chapter, and to reriierni)cr that it has been modelled on the style of the very best writers of the sporting papers. 410 MEN'S WIVES 4th round. Claret drawn in profusion from the gown- boy's grog-shop. (He went down, and had his front tooth knocked out, but the blow cut Berry's knuckles a great deal.) j^ :^ ^ iSfe iiL Jfe J^ *T\ '!» "/I^ *■* '1^ ^^ 'I* 15th round. Chancery. Fibbing. Biggs makes dreadful work with his left. Break away. Rally. Biggs down. Betting still six to four on the gown-boy. *,*!', *tf, .■A'. •A'. jX'. ;*i *T* T* vj»' TJv /js 1^ 20th round. The men both dreadfully punished. Berry somewhat shy of his adversary's left hand. *4^ ri^ ^ ^ ^ ^ vj^ T' *T» Fancy Mrs. Berry's face as she looked in, in the midst of that Bacchanalian ditty, when she saw no less a person than the Rev. Lemuel Whey carolling it! " Is it you, my dear? " cries Berry, as brave now as any Petruchio. " Come in, and sit down, and hear Whey's song." " Lady Pash is asleep, Frank," said she. "Well, darling! that's the very reason. Give Mrs. Berry a glass, Jack, will you? " " Would you wake your aunt, sir? " hissed out madam. " Never mind me, love! Fm awake j and like it! " cried MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY 429 the venerable Lady Pash from the salon. " Sing away, gentlemen! " At which we all set up an audacious cheer; and Mrs. Berry flounced back to the drawdng-room, but did not leave the door open, that her aunt might hear our mel- odies. Berry had by this time arrived at that confidential state to which a third bottle always brings the well-regulated mind; and he made a clean confession to Cutler and my- self of his numerous matrimonial annoyances. He was not allowed to dine out, he said, and but seldom to ask his friends to meet him at home. He never dared smoke a cigar for the life of him, not even in the stables. He spent the mornings dawdling in eternal shops, the even- ings at endless tea-parties, or in reading poems or mis- sionary tracts to his wife. He was compelled to take physic whenever she thought he looked a little pale, to change his shoes and stockings whenever he came in from a walk. " Look here," said he, opening his chest, and shaking his fist at Dobus; " look what Angehca and that infernal Dobus have brought me to." I thought it might be a flannel waistcoat into which madam had forced him: but it was worse: I give you my word of honour it was a pitch- jjlaster! We all roared at this, and the doctor as loud as any one; but he vowed that he had no hand in the pitch- plaster. It was a favourite family remedy of the late apothecary. Sir George Catacomb, and had been put on by Mrs. Berry's own fair hands. When Anatole came in with coffee. Berry was in such high courage, that he told him to go to the deuce with it; and we never caught sight of Lady Pash more, except when, muffled up to the nose, she passed through the 430 MEN'S WIVES salle-a-manger to go to her carriage, in which Dobus and the parson were Hkewise to be transported to Paris. " Be a man, Frank," says she, "and hold your own" — for the good old lady had taken her nephew's part in the matrimonial business — " and you, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, come and see him often. You're a good fellow, take old one-eyed Callipash's word for it. Shall I take you to Paris? " Dear, kind Angelica, she had told her aunt all I said ! " Don't go, George," says Berry, squeezing me by the hand. So I said I was going to sleep at Versailles that night ; but if she would give a convoy to Jack Butts, it would be conferring a great obligation on him; with which favour the old lady accordingly complied, saying to him, with great coolness, " Get up and sit with John in the rumble, Mr. What-d'ye-call-'im." The fact is, the good old soul despises an artist as much as she does a tailor. Jack tripped to his place very meekly; and "Remem- ber Saturday," cried the doctor; and "Don't forget Thursday," exclaimed the divine, — " a bachelors' party, you know." And so the cavalcade drove thundering down the gloomy old Avenue de Paris. The Frenchman, I forgot to say, had gone away ex- ceedingly ill long before; and the reminiscences of " Thursday " and " Saturday " evoked by Dobus and Whey, were, to tell the truth, parts of our conspiracy: for in the heat of Berry's courage, we had made him promise to dine with us all round en garfon; with all ex- cept Captain GofF, who " racklacted " that he was en- gaged every day for the next three weeks : as indeed he is, to a thirty-sous ordinary which the gallant officer fre- quents, when not invited elsewhere. MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY 431 Cutler and I then were the last on the field; and though we were for moving away, Berry, whose vigour had, if possible, been excited by the bustle and colloquy in the night air, insisted upon dragging us back again, and actually proposed a grill for supper! We found in the salle-a-manger a strong smell of an extinguished lamp, and Mrs. Berry was snuffing out the candles on the sideboard. "Hullo, my dear!" shouts Berry: "easily, if you please! we've not done yet! " "Not done yet, Mr. Berry!" groans the lady, in a hollow, sepulchral tone. "No, Mrs. B., not done yet. We are going to have some supper, ain't we, George? " " I think it's quite time to go home," said Mr. Fitz- Boodle (who, to say the truth, began to tremble him- self). " I think it is, sir; you are quite right, sir; you will pardon me, gentlemen, I have a bad headache, and will retire." " Good-night, my dear! " said that audacious Berry. " Anatole, tell the cook to broil a fowl and bring some wine." If the loving couple had been alone, or if Cutler had not been an attache to the embassy, before whom she was afraid of making herself ridiculous, I am confident that Mrs. Berry would have fainted away on the spot; and that all Berry's courage would have tumbled down lifeless by the side of her. So she only gave a mar- tyrised look, and left the room; and while we partook of the very unnecessary repast, was good enough to sing some hymn tunes to an exceedingly slow movement in the next room, intimating that she was awake, 432 MEN'S WIVES and that, though suffering, she found her consolations in rehgion. These melodies did not in the least add to our friend's courage. The devilled fowl had, somehow, no devil in it. The champagne in the glasses looked exceedingly flat and blue. The fact is, that Cutler and I were now both in a state of dire consternation, and soon made a move for our hats, and lighting each a cigar in the hall, made across the little green where the Cupids and nymphs were listening to the dribbling fountain in the dark. " I'm hanged if I don't have a cigar too! " says Berry, rushing after us ; and accordingly putting in his pocket a key about the size of a shovel, which hung by the little handle of the outer grille, forth he sallied, and joined us in our fumigation. He stayed with us a couple of hours, and returned homewards in perfect good spirits, having given me his word of honour he would dine with us the next day. He put in his immense key into the grille, and unlocked it; but the gate would not open: it was bolted within. He began to make a furious jangling and ringing at the bell; and in oaths, both French and English, called upon the recalcitrant Anatole. After much tolling of the bell, a light came cutting across the crevices of the inner door ; it was thrown open, and a figure appeared with a lamp,— a tall, slim figure of a woman, clothed in white from head to foot. It was Mrs. Berry, and when Cutler and I saw her, we both ran away as fast as our legs could carry us. Berry, at this, shrieked with a wild laughter. " Re- member to-morrow, old boys," shouted he,—" six o'clock; " and we were a quarter of a mile off when the MR. AND MRS. FRANK BERRY 433 gate closed, and the little mansion of the Avenue de Paris was once more quiet and dark. The next afternoon, as we were plaj^ing at billiards. Cutler saw Mrs. Berry drive by in her carriage ; and as soon as rather a long rubber was over, I thought I would go and look for our poor friend, and so went down to the Pavilion. Every door was open, as the wont is in France and I walked in unannounced, and saw this: He was playing a duet with her on the flute. She had been out but for half-an-hour, after not speaking all the morning; and having seen Cutler at the billiard-room window, and suspecting we might take advantage of her absence, she had suddenly returned home again, and had flung herself, weeping, into her Frank's arms, and said she could not bear to leave him in anger. And so, after sitting for a little while sobbing on his knee, she had forgotten and forgiven every thing! The dear angel! I met poor Frank in Bond Street only yesterday; but he crossed over to the other side of the way. He had on goloshes, and is grown very fat and pale. He has shaved off* his moustaches, and in- stead, wears a respirator. He has taken his name off* all his clubs, and lives very grimly in Baker Street. Well, ladies, no doubt you say he is right: and what are the^ odds, so long as you are happy? DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE THERE was an odious Irishwoman and her daugh- ter who used to frequent the " Royal Hotel " at Leamington some years ago, and who went by the name of Mrs. Major Gam. Gam had been a distinguished officer in his Majesty's service, whom nothing but death and his own amiable wife could overcome. The widow mourned her husband in the most becoming bombazeen she could muster, and had at least half-an-inch of lamp- black round the immense visiting-tickets which she left at the houses of the nobility and gentry her friends. Some of us, I am sorry to say, used to call her Mrs. Major Gammon; for if the worthy widow had a propen- sity, it was to talk largely of herself and family (of her own family, for she held her husband's very cheap) , and of the wonders of her paternal mansion, Molloyville, county of Mayo. She was of the Molloys of that county ; and though I never heard of the family before, I have little doubt, from what Mrs. Major Gam stated, that they were the most ancient and illustrious family of that part of Ireland. I remember there came down to see his aunt a young fellow with huge red whiskers and tight nankeens, a green coat and an awful breastpin, who, after two days' stay at the Spa, proposed marriage to Miss S , or, in default, a duel with her father ; and who drove a flash curricle with a bay and a grey, and who 434 DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 435 was presented with much pride by IMrs. Gam as Castle- reagh ^lolloy of ^Molloyville. We all agreed that he was the most insufferable snob of the whole season, and were delighted when a bailiff came down in search of him. Well, this is all I know personally of the ]Molloyville family; but at the house if you met the Widow Gam, and talked on any subject in life, you were sure to hear of it. If you asked her to have pease at dinner, she would say, " Oh, sir, after the pease at ^lolloyville, I really don't care for any others,— do I, dearest Jemima? We always had a dish in the month of June, when my father gave his head gardener a guinea (we had three at JNIolloyville), and sent him with his compliments and a quart of pease to our neighbour, dear Lord Marrowfat. What a sweet place Marrowfat Park is! isn't it, Je- mima?" If a carriage passed by the window, Mrs. Major Gammon would be sure to tell you that there were three carriages at Molloyville, " the barouche, the chawiot, and the covered cyar." In the same manner she would favour you with the number and names of the footmen of the establishment ; and on a visit to Warwick Castle (for this bustling woman made one in every party of pleasure that was formed from the hotel), she gave us to understand that the great walk by the river was al- together inferior to the principal avenue of INIolloyville Park. I should not have been able to tell so much about Mrs. Gam and her daughter, but that, between ourselves, I was particularly sweet upon a young lady at the time, whose papa lived at the " Royal," and was under the care of Dr. Jephson. The Jemima appealed to by Mrs. Gam in the above sentence was, of course, her daughter, apostrophized by 436 MEN'S WIVES her mother, " Jemima, my soul's darhng! " or, " Jemima, my blessed child! " or, " Jemima, my own love! " The sacrifices that Mrs. Gam had made for that daughter were, she said, astonishing. The money she had spent in masters upon her, the illnesses through which she had nursed her, the ineffable love the mother bore her, were only known to heaven, Mrs. Gam said. They used to come into the room with their arms round each other's waists: at dinner between the courses the mother would sit with one hand locked in her daughter's; and if only two or three young men were present at the time, would be pretty sure to kiss her Jemima more than once during the time whilst the bohea was poured out. As for Miss Gam, if she was not handsome, candour forbids me to say she was ugly. She was neither one nor t'other. She was a person who wore ringlets and a band round her forehead ; she knew four songs, which became rather tedious at the end of a couple of months' acquain- tance ; she had excessively bare shoulders ; she inclined to wear numbers of cheap ornaments, rings, brooches, fer- ronieres, smelling-bottles, and was always, we thought, very smartly dressed : though old Mrs. Lynx hinted that her gowns and her mother's were turned over and over again, and that her eyes were almost put out by darning stockings. These eyes Miss Gam had very large, though rather red and weak, and used to roll them about at every eli- gible unmarried man in the place. But though the widow subscribed to all the balls, though she hired a fly to go to the meet of the hounds, though she was constant at church, and Jemima sang louder than any person there except the clerk, and though, probably, any person who made her a happy husband would be invited down DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 437 to enjoy the three footmen, gardeners, and carriages at JMolloyville, yet no Enghsh gentleman was found suf- ficiently audacious to propose. Old Lynx used to say that the pair had been at Tunbridge, Harrogate, Brighton, Ramsgate, Cheltenham, for this eight years past ; where they had met, it seemed, with no better for- tune. Indeed, the widow looked rather high for her blessed child : and as she looked with the contempt which no small number of Irish people feel upon all persons who get their bread by labour or commerce; and as she was a person whose energetic manners, costume, and brogue were not much to the taste of quiet English country gentlemen, Jemima— sweet, spotless flower,— still remained on her hands, a thought withered, perhaps, and seedv. Now, at this time, the 120th Regiment was quartered at Weedon Barracks, and with the corps was a certain Assistant- Surgeon Haggarty, a large, lean, tough, raw- boned man, with big hands, knock-knees, and carroty whiskers, and, withal, as honest a creature as ever han- died a lancet. Haggarty, as his name imports, was of the very same nation as Mrs. Gam, and, what is more, the honest fellow had some of the peculiarities which be- longed to the widow, and bragged about his family al- most as much as she did. I do not know of what par- ticular part of Ireland they were kings, but monarchs they must have been, as have been the ancestors of so many thousand Hibernian families; but they had been men of no small consideration in Dublin, "where my father," Haggarty said, " is as well known as King Wil- liam's statue, and where he 'rowls his carriage, too,' let me tell ye." Hence, Haggarty was called by the wags " Rowl the 438 MEN'S WIVES I carriage," and several of them made inquiries of Mrs. i Gam regarding him: " Mrs. Gam, when you used to go up from Molloyville to the Lord Lieutenant's balls, and I had your town-house in Fitzwilliam Square, used you to meet the famous Doctor Haggarty in society? " "Is it Surgeon Haggarty of Gloucester Street ye mean? The black Papist ! D'ye suppose that the Mol- loys would sit down to table with a creature of that : sort?" i " Why, isn't he the most famous physician in Dublin, and doesn't he rowl his carriage there ? " ° i " The horrid wretch! He keeps a shop, I tell ye, and sends his sons out with the medicine. He's got four of them off into the army, Ulick and Phil, and Terence and Denny, and now it's Charles that takes out the physic. But how should I know about these odious creatures? Their mother was a Burke, of Burke's Town, county Cavan, and brought Surgeon Haggarty two thousand pounds. She was a Protestant ; and I am surprised how she could have taken up with a horrid, odious. Popish apothecary! " From the extent of the widow's information, I am led to suppose that the inhabitants of Dublin are not less anxious about their neighbours than are the natives of English cities ; and I think it is very probable that Mrs. Gam's account of the young Haggartys who carried out the medicine is perfectly correct, for a lad in the 120th made a caricature of Haggarty coming out of a chem- ist's shop with an oil-cloth basket under his arm, which set the worthy surgeon in such a fury that there would have been a duel between him and the ensign, could the fiery doctor have had his way. Now, Dionysius Haggarty was of an exceedingly in- DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 439 flammable temperament, and it chanced that of all the invalids, the visitors, the young squires of Warwick- shire, the young manufacturers from Birmingham, the young oflicers from the barracks— it chanced, unluckily for IMiss Gam and himself, that he was the only indi- vidual who w^as in the least smitten by her personal charms. He was very tender and modest about his love, however, for it must be owned that he respected Mrs. Gam hugely, and fully admitted, like a good simple fellow as he was, the superiority of that lady's birth and breeding to his own. How could he hope that he, a humble assistant-surgeon, with a thousand pounds his aunt Kitty left him for all his fortune,— how could he hope that one of the race of Molloyville would ever condescend to marry him? Inflamed, however, by love, and inspired by wdne, one day at a picnic at Kenilworth, Haggarty, whose love and raptures were the talk of the whole regiment, was induced by his waggish comrades to make a proposal in form. "Are you aware, Mr. Haggarty, that you are speak- ing to a Molloy? " was all the reply majestic Mrs. Gam made when, according to the usual formula, the flutter- ing Jemina referred her suitor to "mamma." She left him with a look which was meant to crush the poor fellow to earth ; she gathered up her cloak and bonnet, and pre- cipitately called for her fly. She took care to tell every single soul in Leamington that the son of the odious Papist apothecary had had the audacity to propose for her daughter (indeed a proposal, coming from what- ever quarter it may, does no harm) and left Haggarty in a state of extreme depression and despair. His down-heartedness, indeed, surprised most of his 440 MEN'S WIVES acquaintances in and out of the regiment, for the young lady was no beauty, and a doubtful fortune, and Dennis was a man outwardly of an unromantic turn, who seemed to have a great deal more liking for beef -steak and whisky-punch than for women, however fascinat- ing. But there is no doubt this shy, uncouth, rough fellow- had a warmer and more faithful heart hid within him than many a dandy who is as handsome as Apollo. I, for my part, never can understand why a man falls in love, and heartily give him credit for so doing, never mind with what or whom. That I take to be a point quite as much beyond an individual's own control as the catching of the small-pox or the colour of his hair. To the surprise of all. Assistant- Surgeon Dionysius Haggarty was deeply and seriously in love ; and I am told that one day he very nearly killed the before-mentioned young ensign with a carving-knife, for venturing to make a second caricature, representing Lady Gammon and Jemima in a fantastical park, surrounded by three gardeners, three carriages, three footmen, and the covered cyar. He would have no joking concerning them. He became moody and quarrelsome of habit. He was for some time much more in the surgery and hospital than in the mess. He gave up the eating, for the most part, of those vast quantities of beef and pudding, for which his stomach had used to afford such ample and swift ac- commodation ; and when the cloth was drawn, instead of taking twelve tumblers, and singing Irish melodies, as he used to do, in a horrible cracked yelling voice, he would retire to his own apartment, or gloomily pace the barrack-yard, or madly whip and spur a grey mare he had on the road to Leamington, where his Jemima (al- though invisible for him) still dwelt. DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 441 The season at Leamington coming to a conclusion by the withdrawal of the j^oung fellows who frequented that watering-place, the Widow Gam retired to her usual quarters for the other months of the year. Where these quarters were, I think we have no right to ask, for I believe she had quarrelled with her brother at JVIolloy- ville, and besides, was a great deal too proud to be a burden on anybody. Not only did the widow quit Leamington, but very soon afterwards the 120th received its marching orders, and left Weedon and Warwickshire. Haggarty's ap- petite was by this time partially restored, but his love was not altered, and his humour was still morose and gloomy. I am informed that at this period of his life he wrote some poems relative to his unhappy passion; a wild set of verses of several lengths, and in his handwrit- ing, being discovered upon a sheet of paper in which a pitch-plaster was wrapped up, which Lieutenant and Adjutant Wheezer was compelled to put on for a cold. Fancy then, three years afterwards, the surprise of all Haggarty's acquaintances on reading in the public papers the following announcement: — " Married, at Monkstown on tlie 12th instant, Dionysius Hag- garty, Esq., of H. M. 120th Foot, to Jemima Amelia Wilhel- mina Molloy, daughter of the late Major Lancelot Gam, R.M., and granddaughter of the late, and niece of the present Burke Bodkin Blake Molloy, Esq., Molloyville, county Mayo." " Has the course of true love at last begun to run smooth? " thouglit I, as I laid down tlie paper; and the old times, and the old leering, bragging widow, and the high shoulders of her daughter, and the jolly days with the 12()th, and Dr. Jephson's one-horse cliaise, and tlie 442 MEN'S WIVES Warwickshire hunt, and— and Louisa S , but never mind her,— came back to my mind. Has that good-na- tured, simple fellow at last met with his reward? Well, if he has not to marry the mother-in-law too, he may get on well enough. Another year announced the retirement of Assistant- Surgeon Haggarty from the 120th, where he was re- placed by Assistant- Surgeon Angus Rothsay Leech, a Scotchman, probably; with whom I have not the least acquaintance, and who has nothing whatever to do with this little history. Still more years passed on, during which time I will not say that I kept a constant watch upon the fortunes of Mr. Haggarty and his lady, for, perhaps, if the truth were known, I never thought for a moment about them ; until one day, being at Kingstown, near Dublin, daw- dling on the beach, and staring at the Hill of Howth, as most people at that watering-place do, I saw coming towards me a tall gaunt man, with a pair of bushy red whiskers, of which I thought I had seen the like in former years, and a face which could be no other than Haggarty's. It was Haggarty, ten years older than when we last met, and greatly more grim and thin. He had on one shoulder a young gentleman in a dirty tartan costume, and a face exceedingly like his own peeping from under a battered plume of black feathers, while with his other hand he was dragging a light green go- cart, in which reposed a female infant of some two years old. Both were roaring with great power of lungs. As soon as Dennis saw me, his face lost the dull, puz- zled expression which had seemed to characterize it; he dropped the pole of the go-cart from one hand, and his DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 443 son from the other, and came jumping forward to greet me with all his might, leaving his progeny roaring in the road. "Bless my sowl," says he, "sure it's Fitz-Boodle? Fitz, don't you remember me? Dennis Haggarty of the 120th? Leamington, you know? :Molloy, my boy, hould your tongue, and stop your screeching, and Je- mima's too; d'ye hear? Well, it does good to sore eyes to see an old face. How fat you're grown, Fitz; and were ye ever in Ireland before? and a'n't ye delighted with it? Confess, now, isn't it beautiful? " This question regarding the merits of their country, which I have remarked is put by most Irish persons, being answered in a satisfactory manner, and the shouts of the infants appeased from an apple-stall, hard-by, Dennis and I talked of old times; I congratulated him on his marriage with the lovely girl whom we all ad- mired, and hoped he had a fortune with her, and so forth. His appearance, however, did not bespeak a great fortune: he had an old grey hat, short old trousers, an old waistcoat with regimental buttons, and patched Blucher boots, such as are not usually sported by per- sons in easy life. " Ah! " says he, with a sigh, in reply to my queries, " times are changed since them days, Fitz-Boodle. ]My wife's not what she was— the beautiful creature you knew her. Molloy, my boy, run off in a hurry to your mamma, and tell her an English gentleman is coming home to dine; for you'll dine with me, Fitz, in course? " And I agreed to partake of that meal; though Master Molloy altogether declined to obey his papa's orders with respect to announcing the stranger. "Well, I must announce you myself," said Hag- 444 MEN'S WIVES garty, with a smile. " Come, it's just dinner-time, and my little cottage is not a hundred yards off." Accord- ingly, we all marched in procession to Dennis's little cot- tage, which was one of a row and a half of one-storied houses, with little court-yards before them, and mostly with very fine names on the door-posts of each. " Sur- geon Haggarty " was emblazoned on Dennis's gate, on a stained green copper-plate; and, not content with this, on the door-post above the bell was an oval with the in- scription of " New Molloyville." The bell was broken, of course; the court, or garden-path, was mouldy, weedy, seedy; there were some dirty rocks, by way of ornament, round a faded grass-plat in the centre, some clothes and rags hanging out of most part of the win- dows of New Molloyville, the immediate entrance to which was by a battered scraper, under a broken trellis- work, up which a withered creeper declined any longer to climb. "Small, but snug," says Haggarty: "I'll lead the way, Fitz; put your hat on the flower-pot there, and turn to the left into the drawing-room." A fog of onions and turf-smoke filled the whole of the house, and gave signs that dinner was not far off. Far off? You could hear it frizzling in the kitchen, where the maid was also endeavouring to hush the crying of a third re- fractory child. But as we entered, all three of Hag- garty's darlings were in full war. , " Is it you, Dennis? " cried a sharp raw voice, from a dark corner in the drawing-room to which we were introduced, and in which a dirty tablecloth was laid for dinner, some bottles of porter and a cold mutton-bone being laid out on a rickety grand-piano hard by. " Ye're always late, Mr. Haggarty. Have you brought DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 445 the whisky from Nowlan's? I'll go bail yeVe not now." " My dear, I've brought an old friend of yours and mine to take pot-luck with us to-day," said Dennis. " When is he to come? " said the lady. At which speech I was rather surprised, for I stood before her. " Here he is, Jemima my love," answered Dennis, looking at me. " Mr. Fitz-Boodle; don't you remember him in Warwickshire, darling?" " ]\Ir. Fitz-Boodle ! I am very glad to see him," said the lady, rising and curtseying with much cordiality. Mrs. Haggarty was blind. Mrs. Haggarty was not only blind, but it was evident that smallpox had been the cause of her loss of vision. Her eyes were bound with a bandage, her features were entirely swollen, scarred and distorted by the horrible effects of the malady. She had been knitting in a cor- ner when we entered, and was wrapped in a very dirty bed-gown. Her voice to me was quite different to that in which she addressed her husband. She spoke to Hag- garty in broad Irish: she addressed me in that most odious of all languages— Irish-English, endeavouring to the utmost to disguise her brogue, and to speak with the true dawdling distingue English air. "Are you long in I-a-land? " said the poor creature in this accent. " You must faind it a sad ba'ba'ous place, Mr. Fitz-Boodle, I'm shu-ah! It was vary kaind of you to come upon us en famille, and accept a dinner sans ccrcmonie. Mr. Haggarty, I hope you'll put the waine into aice, Mr. Fitz-Boodle must be melted with this hot weathali," For some time she conducted the conversation in this polite strain, and I was obliged to say, in replj'- to a 446 MEN'S WIVES query of hers, that I did not find her the least altered, though I should never have recognized her but for this rencontre. She told Haggarty with a significant air to get the wine from the cellah, and whispered to me that he was his own butlah; and the poor fellow, taking the hint, scudded away into the town for a pound of veal cutlets and a couple of bottles of wine from the tavern. " Will the childhren get their potatoes and butther here? " said a barefoot girl, with long black hair flow- ing over her face, which she thrust in at the door. " Let them sup in the nursery, Elizabeth, and send — ah! Edwards to me." " Is it cook you mane, ma'am? " said the girl. " Send her at once! " shrieked the unfortunate wo- man; and the noise of frying presently ceasing, a hot woman made her appearance, wiping her brows with her apron, and asking, with an accent decidedly Hiber- nian, what the misthress wanted. "Lead me up to my dressing-room, Edwards: I really am not fit to be seen in this dishabille by Mr. Fitz-Boodle." " Fait' I can't! " says Edwards; " sure the masther's out at the butcher's, and can't look to the kitchen-fire! " " Nonsense, I must go! " cried Mrs. Haggarty; and so Edwards, putting on a resigned air, and giving her arm and face a further rub with her apron, held out her arm to Mrs. Dennis, and the pair went upstairs. She left me to indulge my reflections for half-an- hour, at the end of which period she came downstairs dressed in an old yellow satin, with the poor shoulders exposed just as much as ever. She had mounted a tawdry cap, which Haggarty himself must have se- lected for her. She had all sorts of necklaces, bracelets, DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 447 and earrings in gold, in garnets, in mother-of-pearl, in ormolu. She brought in a furious savour of musk, which drove the odours of onions and turf -smoke before it; and she waved across her wretched, angular, mean, scarred features, an old cambric handkerchief with a yellow lace-border. "And so you would have known me anywhere, Mr. Fitz-Boodle? " said she, with a grin that was meant to be most fascinating. "I was sure you would; for though my dreadful illness deprived me of my sight, it is a mercy that it did not change my features or com- plexion at all! " This mortification had been spared the unhappy w'oman; but I don't know whether, with all her vanity, her infernal pride, folly, and selfishness, it was char- itable to leave her in her error. Yet why correct her? There is a quality in certain people which is above all advice, exposure, or correction. Only let a man or woman have dulness sufficient, and they need bow to no extant authority. A dullard recog- nizes no betters; a dullard can't see that he is in the wrong; a dullard has no sci*uples of conscience, no doubts of pleasing, or succeeding, or doing right; no qualms for other people's feelings, no respect but for the fool himself. How can you make a fool perceive that he is a fool? Such a personage can no more see his own folly than he can see his own ears. And the great quality of Dulness is to be unalterably contented with itself. What myriads of souls are there of this admi- rable sort, — selfish, stingy, ignorant, passionate, brutal; bad sons, mothers, fathers, never known to do kind actions ! To pause, however, in this disquisition, which was 448 MEN'S WIVES carrying us far off Kingstown, New Molloyville, Ire- land,— nay, into the wide world wherever Dulness in- habits, let it be stated that Mrs. Haggarty, from my brief acquaintance with her and her mother, was of the •order of persons just mentioned. There was an air of conscious merit about her, very hard to swallow along with the infamous dinner poor Dennis managed, after much delay, to get on the table. She did not fail to invite me to Molloyville, where she said her cousin would be charmed to see me; and she told me almost as many anecdotes about that place as her mother used to impart in former days. I observed, moreover, that Dennis cut her the favourite pieces of the beefsteak, that she ate thereof with great gusto, and that she drank with similar eagerness of the various strong liquors at table. " We Irish ladies are all fond of a leetle glass of punch," she said, with a playful air, and Dennis mixed her a powerful tumbler of such violent grog as I myself could swallow only with some difficulty. She talked of her suffering a great deal, of her sacri- fices, of the luxuries to which she had been accus- tomed before marriage,— in a word, of a hundred of those themes on which some ladies are in the custom of enlarging when they wish to plague some husbands. But honest Dennis, far from being angry at this per- petual, wearisome, impudent recurrence to her own su- periority, rather encouraged the conversation than otherwise. It pleased him to hear his wife discourse about her merits and family splendours. He was so thoroughly beaten down and henpecked, that he, as it were, gloried in his servitude, and fancied that his wife's magnificence reflected credit on himself. He looked towards me, who was half sick of the woman and her DEXXIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 449 egotism, as if expecting me to exhibit the deepest sym- pathy, and flung me glances across the table as much as to say, " What a gifted creature my Jemima is, and what a fine fellow I am to be in possession of her! " When the children came down she scolded them, of course, and dismissed them abruptly (for which circum- stance, perhaps, the writer of these pages was not in his heart very sorry), and, after having sat a preposter- ously long time, left us, asking whether we would have coffee there or in her boudoir. " Oh! here, of course," said Dennis, wdth rather a troubled air; and in about ten minutes the lovely crea- ture was led back to us again by " Edwards," and the coffee made its appearance. After coffee her husband begged her to let Mr. Fitz-Boodle hear her voice: " He longs for some of his old favourites." " No! do you? " said she; and was led in triumph to the jingling old piano, and with a screechy, wiry voice, sung those very abominable old ditties which I had heard her sing at Leamington ten years back. Haggarty, as she sang, flung himself back in the chair delighted. Husbands always are, and with the same song, one that they have heard when they were nineteen years old, probably; most Englishmen's tunes have that date, and it is rather affecting, I think, to hear an old gentleman of sixty or seventy quavering the old ditty that was fresh when he was fresh and in his prime. If he has a musical wife, depend on it he thinks her old songs of 1788 are better than any he has heard since: in fact he has heard none since. When the old couj^le are in high good-humour the old gentleman will take the old lady round the waist, and say, "My dear, do sing me one of your own songs," and she sits down and sings 450 MEN'S WIVES with her old voice, and, as she sings, the roses of her youth bloom again for a moment. Ranelagh resuscitates, and she is dancing a minuet in powder and a train. This is another digression. It was occasioned by looking at poor Dennis's face while his wife was screeching (and, believe me, the former was the most pleasant occupation). Bottom tickled by the fairies could not have been in greater ecstasies. He thought the music was divine ; and had further reason for exult- ing in it, which was, that his wife was always in a good humour after singing, and never would sing but in that happy frame of mind. Dennis had hinted so much in our little colloquy during the ten minutes of his lady's absence in the " boudoir; " so, at the conclusion of each piece, we shouted "Bravo!" and clajDped our hands like mad. Such was my insight into the life of Surgeon Dio- nysius Haggarty and his wife; and I must have come upon him at a favourable moment too, for poor Dennis has spoken, subsequently, of our delightful evening at Kingstown, and evidently thinks to this day that his friend was fascinated by the entertainment there. His inward economy was as follows: he had his half pay, a thousand pounds, about a hundred a year that his father left, and his wife had sixty pounds a year from the mother; which the mother, of course, never paid. He had no practice, for he was absorbed in attention to his Jemima and the children, whom he used to wash, to dress, to carry out, to M^alk, or to ride, as we have seen, and who could not have a servant, as their dear blind mother could never be left alone. Mrs. Hag- garty, a great invalid, used to lie in bed till one, and have breakfast and hot luncheon there. A fifth part of DEXXIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 451 his income was spent in having her wheeled about in a chair, by which it was his duty to walk daily for an allotted number of hours. Dinner would ensue, and the amateur clergy, who abound in Ireland, and of whom Mrs. Haggarty was a great admirer, lauded her every- where as a model of resignation and virtue, and praised beyond measure the admirable piety with which she bore her sufferings. Well, every man to his taste. It did not certainly ap- pear to me that she was the martyr of the family. " The circumstances of my marriage with Jemima," Dennis said to me, in some after conversations we had on this interesting subject, "were the most romantic and touching you can conceive. You saw what an im- pression the dear girl had made upon me when we were at Weedon; for from the first day I set eyes on her, and heard her sing her dehghtful song of ' Dark-eyed Maiden of Araby,' I felt, and said to Turniquet of ours, that very night, that sJie was the dark-eyed maid of Araby for me,— not that she was, you know, for she was born in Shropshire. But I felt that I had seen the wo- man who was to make me happy or miserable for life. You know how I proposed for her at Kenilworth, and how I was rejected, and how I almost shot myself in consequence,— no, you don't know that, for I said no- thing about it to any one, but I can tell you it was a very near thing; and a very lucky thing for me I didn't do it: for,— would you believe it?— the dear girl was in love with me all the time." " Was she really? " said I, who recollected that INIiss Gam's love of those days showed itself in a very singu- lar manner ; but the fact is, when women are most in love they most disguise it. 452 MEN'S WIVES " Over head and ears in love with poor Dennis," re- sumed that Avorthv fellow, " who'd ever have thought it? But I have it from the best authoritv, from her own mother, with whom I'm not over and above good friends now; but of this fact she assured me, and I'll tell you when and how. " We were quartered at Cork three years after we were at Weedon, and it was our last year at home ; and a great mercy that my dear girl spoke in time, or where should we have been noii:! Well, one day, marching home from parade, I saw a lady seated at an open win- dow bv another who seemed an invalid, and the ladv at the window, who was dressed in the profoundest mourn- ing, cried out, with a scream, ' Gracious heavens! it's :\Ir. Haggartv of the 120th; " ' Sure I know that voice,' says I to Whiskerton. " ' It's a great mercy you don't know it a deal too well,' savs he: ' it's Ladv Gammon. She's on some hus- band-hunting scheme, depend on it, for that daughter of hers. She was at Bath last year on the same errand, and at Cheltenham the vear before, where, heaven bless you! she's as well known as the " Hen and Chickens." ' I'll thank you not to speak disrespectfully of ]Miss Jemima Gam,' said I to Whiskerton; ' she's of one of the first families in Ireland, and whoever savs a word against a woman I once proposed for, insults me, — do vou understand? ' Well, marrv her, if vou like,' savs Whiskerton, quite peevish : ' marry her, and be hanged ! ' " ]\Iarrv her! the verv idea of it set mv brain a-whirl- ing, and made me a thousand times more mad than I am by nature. " You may be sure I walked up the hill to the parade- DEXXIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 453 ground that afternoon, and with a beating heart too. I came to the widow's house. It was called ' Xew ]Mol- loyville,' as this is. Wherever she takes a house for six months, she calls it ' Xew jMolloyville ; ' and has had one in Mallow, in Bandon, in Sligo, in Castlebar, in Fermoy, in Drogheda, and the deuce knows where be- sides: but the blinds were down, and though I thought I saw somebody behind 'em, no notice was taken of poor Denny Haggarty, and I paced up and down all mess- time in hopes of catching a glimpse of Jemima, but in vain. The next day I was on the ground again; I was just as much in love as ever, that's the fact. I'd never been in that wav before, look vou; and when once caught, I knew it was for life. " There's no use in telling you how long I beat about the bush, but when I did get admittance to the house (it was through the means of young Castlereagh Mol- loy, whom you may remember at Leamington, and who was at Cork for the regatta, and used to dine at our mess, and had taken a mighty fancy to me) — when I did get into the house, I say, I rushed in medias res at once: I couldn't keep myself quiet, my heart was too full. "Oh, Fitz! I shall never forget the day,— the mo- ment I was inthro juiced into the dthrawing-room " (as he began to be agitated, Dennis's brogue broke out with greater richness than ever; but though a stranger may catch, and repeat from memory, a few words, it is next to impossible for him to keep up a conversation in Irish, so that we had best give up all attempts to imitate Dennis). "When I saw old jNIother Gam," said he, " my feelings overcame me all at once. I rowled down on the ground, sir, as if I'd been hit by 454 MEN'S WIVES a musket-ball. ' Dearest madam,' says I, ' I'll die if you don't give me Jemima.' "'Heavens, Mr. Haggarty!' says she, 'how you seize me with surprise! Castlereagh my dear nephew, had you not better leave us? ' and away he went, light- ing a cigar, and leaving me still on the floor. Rise, JNIr. Haggarty,' continued the widow. ' I will not attempt to deny that this constancy towards my daughter is extremely afl'ecting, hoAvever sudden your present appeal may be. I will not attempt to deny that, perhaps, Jemima may have a similar feeling; but, as I said, I never could give my daughter to a Catholic' " ' I'm as good a Protestant as yourself, ma'am,' says I ; ' my mother was an heiress, and we were all brought up her way.' That makes the matter veiy different,' says she, turning up the whites of her eyes. ' How could I ever have reconciled it to my conscience to see my blessed child married to a Papist? How could I ever have taken him to JMolloy ville ? Well, this obstacle being re- moved, I must put myself no longer in the way be- tween two young people. I must sacrifice myself; as I always have when my darling girl was in question. You shall see her, the poor dear, lovely, gentle sufferer, and learn your fate from her oa\ti lips.' The sufferer, ma'am,' says I; ' has Miss Gam been ill?' "'What! haven't you heard?' cried the widow. ' Haven't you heard of the dreadful illness which so nearly carried her from me? For nine weeks, Mr. Hag- garty, I watched her day and night, without taking a wink of sleep,— for nine weeks she lay trembling be- tween death and life ; and I paid the doctor eighty-three DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 455 guineas. She is restored now ; but she is the wreck of the beautiful creature she was. Suffering, and, perhaps, another disappointment— hwl we won't mention that noxjc—hSiYe so pulled her down. But I will leave you, and prepare my sweet girl for this strange, this entirely unexpected visit.' " I won't tell you what took place between me and Je- mima, to whom I was introduced as she sat in tlie dark- ened room, poor sufferer! nor describe to you with what a thrill of joy I seized (after groping about for it) her poor emaciated hand. She did not withdraw it; I came out of that room an engaged man, sir; and now I was enabled to show her that I had always loved her sin- cerely, for there was my will, made three years back, in her favour: that night she refused me, as I told ye. I would have shot myself, but they'd have brought me in non compos; and my brother Mick would have contested the will, and so I determined to live, in order that she might benefit by my dying. I had but a thousand pounds then : since that my father has left me two more. I willed every shilling to her, as you may fancy, and set- tled it upon her when we married, as we did soon after. It was not for some time that I was allowed to see the poor girl's face, or, indeed, was aware of the horrid loss she had sustained. Fancy my agony, my dear fellow, when I saw that beautiful wreck! " There was something not a little affecting to think, in the conduct of this brave fellow, that he never once, as he told his story, seemed to allude to the possibility of his declining to marry a woman who was not the same as the woman he loved; Init that he was quite as faitliful to her now, as he had been when captivated by tlie i)oor tawdry charms of the silly Miss of Leamington. It was hard 456 MEN'S WIVES that such a noble heart as this should be flung away upon yonder foul mass of greedy vanity. Was it hard, or not, that he should remain deceived in his obstinate humility, and continue to admire the selfish, silly being whom he had chosen to worship? " I should have been appointed surgeon of the regi- ment," continued Dennis, " soon after, when it was or- dered abroad to Jamaica, where it now is. But my wife would not hear of going, and said she would break her heart if she left her mother. So I retired on half -pay, and took this cottage ; and in case any j^ractice should fall in my way— why, there is my name on the brass plate, and I'm ready for anything that comes. But the only case that ever did come was one day when I was driving my wife in the chaise, and another, one night, of a beg- gar with a broken head. My wife makes me a present of a baby every year, and we've no debts ; and between you and me and the post, as long as my mother-in-law is out of the house, I'm as happy as I need be." "What! you and the old lady don't get on well?" said I. " I can't say we do; it's not in nature, you know," said Dennis, with a faint grin. " She comes into the house, and turns it topsy-turvy. When she's here I'm obliged to sleep in the scullery. She's never paid her daughter's income since the first year, though she brags about her sacrifices as if she had ruined herself for Jemima; and besides, when she's here, there's a whole clan of the Mol- loys, horse, foot, and dragoons, that are quartered upon us, and eat me out of house and home." "And is Molloyville such a fine place as the widow de- scribed it? " asked I, laughing, and not a little curious. "Oh, a mighty fine place entirely!" said Dennis. DENNIS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 457 " There's the oak park of two hundred acres, the finest land ye ever saw, only they've cut all the wood down. The garden in the old Molloy's time, they say, was the finest ever seen in the West of Ireland; but they've taken all the glass to mend the house windows : and small blame to them either. There's a clear rent-roll of three and fifty hundred a year, only it's in the hand of receivers; besides other debts, on which there is no land security." "Your cousin-in-law, Castlereagh Molloy, won't come into a large fortune? " " Oh, he'll do very well," said Dennis. "As long as he can get credit, he's not the fellow to stint himself. Faith, I w^as fool enough to put my name to a bit of paper for him, and as they could not catch him in Mayo, they laid hold of me at Kingstown here. And there was a pretty to do. Didn't Mrs. Gam say I was ruining her family, that's all? I paid it by instalments (for all my money is settled on Jemima) ; and Castlereagh, who's an honourable fellow, offered me any satisfaction in life. Anyhow, he couldn't do more than that." " Of course not, and now you're friends? " " Yes, and he and his aunt have had a tiff, too ; and he abuses her properly, I warrant ye. He says that she car- ried about Jemima from place to place, and flung her at the head of every unmarried man in England a'most,— my poor Jemima, and she all the while dying in love with me! As soon as she got over the small-pox— she took it at Fermoy— God bless her, I wish I'd been by to be her nurse-tender,— as soon as she was rid of it, the old lady said to Castlereagh, ' Castlereagh, go to the bar'cks, and find out in the Army List where the 120th is.' OfF she came to Cork hot foot. It appears that while she was ill, Jemima's love for me showed itself in such a violent way 458 MEN'S WIVES that her mother was overcome, and promised that, should the dear child recover, she would try and bring us to- gether. Castlereagh says she would have gone after us to Jamaica." " I have no doubt she would," said I. " Could you have a stronger proof of love than that? " cried Dennis. " My dear girl's illness and frightful blindness have, of course, injured her health and her tem- per. She cannot in her position look to the children, you know, and so they come under my charge for the most part ; and her temper is unequal, certainly. But you see what a sensitive, refined, elegant creature she is, and may fancy that she's often put out by a rough fellow like me." Here Dennis left me, saying it was time to go and walk out the children; and I think his story has matter of some wholesome reflection in it for bachelors who are about to change their condition, or may console some who are mourning their celibacy. Marry, gentlemen, if you like; leave your comfortable dinner at the club for cold-mutton and curl-papers at your home ; give up your books or pleasures, and take to yourselves wives and chil- dren; but think well on what you do first, as I have no doubt you will after this advice and example. Advice is always useful in matters of love; men always take it; they always follow other people's opinions, not their own: they always profit by example. When thej'^ see a pretty woman, and feel the delicious madness of love coming over them, they always stop to calculate her tem- per, her money, their own money, or suitableness for the married life. . . . Ha, ha, ha! Let us fool in this way no more. I have been in love forty-three times with all ranks and conditions of women, and would have married every time if they would have let me. How many wives DENIS^IS HAGGARTY'S WIFE 459 had King Solomon, the wisest of men? And is not that story a warning to us that Love is master of the wisest? It is only fools who defy him. I must come, however, to the last, and perhaps the sad- dest, part of poor Denny Haggarty's history. I met him once more, and in such a condition as made me deter- mine to write this history. In the month of June last I happened to be at Rich- mond, a delightful little place of retreat ; and there, sun- ning himself upon the terrace, was my old friend of the 120th: he looked older, thinner, poorer, and more wretched than I had ever seen him. " What! j^ou have given up Kingstown? " said I, shaking him by the hand. " Yes," says he. " And is my lady and your family here at Richmond? " " Xo," says he, with a sad shake of the head ; and the poor fellow's hollow eyes filled with tears. " Good heavens, Denny! what's the matter? " said I. He was squeezing my hand like a vice as I spoke. "They've left me!" he burst out with a dreadful shout of passionate grief — a horrible scream which seemed to be wrenched out of his heart. " Left me! " said he, sinking down on a seat, and clenching his great fists, and shaking his lean arms wildly. " I'm a wise man now, Mr. Fitz-Boodle. Jemima has gone away from me, and yet you know how I loved her, and how happy we were! I've got nobody now; but I'll die soon, that's one comfort: and to think it's she that'll kill me after all!" The story, which he told with a wild and furious lam- entation such as is not known among men of our cooler country, and such as I don't like now to recall, was a very simple one. The mother-in-law had taken possession of 460 MEN'S WIVES the house, and had driven him from it. His property at his marriage was settled on his wife. She had never loved him, and told him this secret at last, and drove him out of doors with her selfish scorn and ill temper. The boy had died ; the girls were better, he said, brought up among the Molloys than they could be with him ; and so he was quite alone in the world, and was living, or rather dying, on forty pounds a year. His troubles are very likely over by this time. The two fools who caused his misery will never read this his- tory of him; they never read godless stories in maga- zines: and I wish, honest reader, that you and I went to church as much as they do. These people are not wicked because of their religious observances, but in spite of them. They are too dull to understand humility, too blind to see a tender and simple heart under a rough un- gainly bosom. They are sure that all their conduct to- wards my poor friend here has been perfectly righteous, and that they have given proofs of the most Christian virtue. Haggarty's wife is considered by her friends as a martyr to a savage husband, and her mother is the angel that has come to rescue her. All they did was to cheat him and desert him. And safe in that wonderful self-complacency with which the fools of this earth are endowed, they have not a single pang of conscience for their villainy towards him, and consider their heartless- ness as a proof and consequence of their spotless piety and virtue. THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION THE HISTORY OF THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION l^From a forthcoming History of Europe'\ CHAPTER I IT is seldom that the historian has to record events more singular than those which occurred during this year, when the Crown of France was battled for by no less than four pretenders, with equal claims, merits, bravery, and popularity. First in the list we place — His Royal Highness Louis Anthony Frederick Samuel Anna-Maria, Duke of Brittany, and son of Louis XVI. The unhapjDy Prince, when a prisoner with his unfortu- nate parents in the Temple, was enabled to escape from that place of confinement, hidden (for tlie treatment of the ruffians who guarded him had caused the young Prince to dwindle down astonishingly) in the cocked- hat of the Representative, Roederer. It is well known that, in the troublous revolutionary times, cocked-hats were worn of a considerable size. He passed a considerable part of his h'fe in Germany; was confined there for thirty years in the dungeons of Spielberg; and, escaping tlicnce to England, was, under pretence of debt, but in reality from j)()litical hatred, imprisoned there also in the Tower of London. He 463 464 THE HISTORY OF THE must not be confounded with any other of the persons who laid claim to be children of the unfortunate victim of the first Revolution. The next claimant, Henri of Bordeaux, is better known. In the year 1843 he held his little fugitive court in furnished lodgings, in a forgotten district of London, called Belgrave Square. Many of the nobles of France flocked thither to him, despising the perse- cutions of the occupant of the throne; and some of the chiefs of the British nobility— among whom may be 'reckoned the celebrated and chivalrous Duke of Jenkins —aided the adventurous young Prince with their coun- sels, their wealth, and their valour. The third candidate was his Imperial Highness Prince John Thomas Napoleon— a fourteenth cousin of the late Emperor; and said by some to be a Prince of the House of Gomersal. He argued justly that, as the immediate relatives of the celebrated Corsican had declined to compete for the crown which was their right, he. Prince John Thomas, being next in succes- sion, was, undoubtedly, heir to the vacant imperial throne. And in support of his claim, he appealed to the fidelity of Frenchmen and the strength of his good sword. His Majesty Louis Philippe was, it need not be said, the illustrious wielder of the sceptre which the three above-named princes desired to w^'est from him. It does not appear that the sagacious monarch was esteemed by his subjects, as such a prince should have been es- teemed. The light-minded people, on the contrary, were rather weary than otherwise of his sway. They were not in the least attached to his amiable family, for whom his JNIajesty with characteristic thrift had NEXT FREXCH REVOLUTION 465 endeavoured to procure satisfactory allowances. And the leading statesmen of the country, whom his oNIaj- esty had disgusted, were suspected of entertaining any but feelings of loyalty towards his house and person. It was against the above-named pretenders that Louis Philippe (now nearly a hundred years old), a prince amongst sovereigns, was called upon to defend his crown. The city of Paris was guarded, as w^e all know, by a hundred and twenty-four forts, of a thousand guns each — provisioned for a considerable time, and all so constructed as to fire, if need were, upon the palace of the Tuileries. Thus, should the mob attack it, as in Au- gust 1792, and July 1830, the building could be razed to the ground in an hour; thus, too, the capital was quite secure from foreign invasion. Another defence against the foreigners was the state of the roads. Since the English companies had retired, half a mile only of railroad had been completed in France, and thus any army accustomed, as those of Europe now are, to move at sixty miles an hour, would have been ennuyed to death before they could have marched from the Rhen- ish, the jNIaritime, the Alpine, or the Pyrenean frontier upon the capital of France. The French people, how- ever, were indignant at this defect of communication in their territory, and said, without the least show of reason, that they would have preferred that the five hundred and seventy-five thousand l)ilh()ns of francs which had been expended upon tlic fortifications should have been laid out in a more peaceful manner. How- ever, behind his forts, the JCing lay secure. As it is our aim to depict in as vivid a manner as possible the strange events of the period, the actions, the 466 THE HISTORY OF THE passions of individuals and parties engaged, we can- not better describe them than by referring to contempo- rary documents, of which there is no lack. It is amusing at the present day to read in the pages of the Moniteur and the Journal des Debats the accounts of the strange scenes which took place. The year 1884 had opened very tranquilly. The Court of the Tuileries had been extremely gay. The three-and-twenty youngest Princes of England, sons of her Majesty Victoria, had enlivened the balls by their presence; the Emperor of Russia and family had paid their accustomed visit; and the King of the Belgians had, as usual, made his visit to his royal father-in-law, under pretence of duty and pleasure, but really to de- mand payment of the Queen of the Belgians' dowry, which Louis Philippe of Orleans still resolutely declined to pay. Who would have thought that in the midst of such festivity danger was lurking rife, in the midst of such quiet, rebellion? Charenton was the great lunatic asylum of Paris, and it was to this repository that the scornful journalist con- signed the pretender to the throne of Louis XVI. But on the next day, viz. Saturday, the 29th Febru- ary, the same journal contained a paragraph of a much more startling and serious import; in which, although under a mask of carelessness, it was easy to see the Government alai*m. On Friday, the 28th February, the Journal des De- bats contained a paragraph, which did not occasion much sensation at the Bourse, so absurd did its contents seem. It ran as follows. — "Encore un Louis XVII. ! A letter from Calais tells us that a strange personage lately landed from XEXT FREXCH REVOLUTION 467 England (from Bedlam we believe) has been giving himself out to be the son of the unfortunate Louis XVI. This is the twenty-fourth pretender of the species who has asserted that his father was the august victim of the Temple. Beyond his pretensions, the poor crea- ture is said to be pretty harmless; he is accompanied by one or two old women, who declare thej^ recognize in him the Dauphin; he does not make any attempt to seize upon his throne by force of arms, but waits until heaven shall conduct him to it. " If his JNIajesty comes to Paris, we presume he will take up his quarters in the palace of Charenton. " We have not before alluded to certain rumours which have been afloat (among the lowest canaille and the vilest estaminets of the metropolis), that a notorious personage — why should we hesitate to mention the name of the Prince John Thomas Napoleon?— has en- tered France with culpable intentions, and revolution- ary views. The Moniteur of this morning, however, confirms the disgraceful fact. A pretender is on our shores; an armed assassin is threatening our peaceful liberties; a wandering, homeless cut-throat is robbing on our highways; and the punisliment of his crime awaits him. Let no considerations of the past defer that just punishment; it is the duty of the legislator to provide for the future. Let the full powers of the law be brought against him, aided by the stern justice of the public force. Let him be tracked, like a wild beast, to his lair, and meet the fate of one. But the sentence has, ere this, been certainly executed. The brigand, we hear, has been distributing (without any effect) pamphlets among the low ale-houses and ])cas- antry of the department of the Upper Khine (in wliich 468 THE HISTORY OF THE he lurks) ; and the Pohce have an easy means of track- ing his footsteps. " Corporal Crane, of the Gendarmerie, is on the track of the unfortunate young man. His attempt will only serve to show the folly of the pretenders, and the love, respect, regard, fidelity, admiration, reverence, and passionate personal attachment in which we hold our be- loved sovereign." " Second Edition!— Capture of the Prince " A courier has just arrived at the Tuileries with a report that after a scuffle between Corporal Crane and the ' Imperial Army,' in a water-barrel, whither the latter had retreated, victory has remained with the for- mer. A desperate combat ensued in the first place, in a hay-loft, whence the pretender was ejected with im- mense loss. He is now a prisoner— and we dread to think what his fate may be! It will warn future aspi- rants, and give Europe a lesson which it is not likely to forget. Above all, it will set beyond a doubt the regard, respect, admiration, reverence, and adoration which we all feel for our sovereign." " Third Edition " A second courier has arrived. The infatuated Crane has made common cause with the Prince, and for ever forfeited the respect of Frenchmen. A de- tachment of the 520th Leger has marched in pursuit of the pretender and his dupes. Go, Frenchmen, go and conquer! Remember that it is our rights you guard, our homes which you march to defend; our laws which are confided to the points of your unsullied bayonets; NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 469 — above all, our dear, dear sovereign, around whose throne you rally! " Our feelings overpower us. JNlen of the 520th, re- member your watchword is Gemappes, — your counter- sign, Valmy." " The Emperor of Russia and his distinguished family quitted the Tuileries this day. His Imperial INIajesty embraced his Majesty the King of the French with tears in his eyes, and conferred upon their RR. HH. the Princes of Nemours and Joinville, the Grand Cross of the Order of the Blue Eagle." " His Majesty passed a review of the Police force. The venerable monarch was received with deafening cheers by this admirable and disinterested body of men. Those cheers were echoed in all French hearts. Long, long may our beloved Prince be among us to receive them!" CHAPTER II HENRY V. AND NAPOLEON III Sunday, February 30th. We resume our quotations from the D chats, which thus introduces a third pretender to the throne: — " Is this distracted country never to have peace? While on Friday we recorded the pretensions of a ma- niac to the great throne of France; while on Saturday we were compelled to register the culpa])le attempts of one whom we regard as a ruffian, murderer, swindler, forger, burglar, and common pickpocket, to gain over 470 THE HISTORY OF THE the allegiance of Frenchmen— it is to-day our painful duty to announce a third invasion— yes, a third invasion. The wretched, superstitious, fanatic Duke of Bordeaux has landed at Nantz, and has summoned the Vendeans and the Bretons to mount the white cockade. " Grand Dieu! are we not happy under the tricolor? Do we not repose under the majestic shadow of the best of kings? Is there any name prouder than that of Frenchmen; any subject more happy than that of our sovereign? Does not the whole French family adore their father? Yes. Our lives, our hearts, our blood, our fortune, are at his disposal: it was not in vain that we raised, it is not the first time we have rallied round the august throne of July. The unhappy Duke is most likely a prisoner by this time; and the martial court which shall be called upon to judge one infamous traitor and pretender, may at the same moment judge another. Away with both! let the ditch of Vincennes (which has been already fatal to his race) receive his body, too, and with it the corpse of the other pretender. Thus will a great crime be wiped out of history, and the manes of a slaughtered martyr avenged! " One word more. We hear that the Duke of Jen- kins accompanies the descendant of Caroline of Naples. An English Duke, entendez-vous! An English Duke, great heaven! and the Princes of England still dancing in our royal halls! Where, where will the perfidy of Albion end? " " The King reviewed the third and fourth battalions of Police. The usual heart-rending cheers accompanied the monarch, who looked younger than ever we saw NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 471 him — ay, as young as when he faced the Austrian cannon at Valmy and scattered their squadrons at Gemappes. " Rations of hquor, and crosses of the Legion of Honour, were distributed to all the men. " The English Princes quitted the Tuileries in twenty-three coaches-and-four. They were not re- warded with crosses of the Legion of Honour. This is significant." " The Dukes of Joinville and Nemours left the palace for the departments of the Loire and Upper Rhine, where they will take the command of the troops. The Joinville regiment— Cavalerie de la Marine— is one of the finest in the service." " Orders have been given to arrest the fanatic who calls himself Duke of Brittany, and who has been mak- ing some disturbances in the Pas de Calais/^ " Anecdote of His Majesty.— At the review of troops (Police) yesterday, his Majesty, going up to one old grognard and pulling him by the ear, said, 'Wilt thou have a cross or another ration of wine?' The old hero, smiling archly, answered, ' Sire, a brave 472 THE HISTORY OF THE man can gain a cross any day of battle, but it is hard for him sometimes to get a drink of wine.' We need not say that he had his drink, and the generous sov- ereign sent him the cross and ribbon too." On the next day, the Government journals begin to write in rather a despondent tone regarding the prog- ress of the pretenders to the throne. In spite of their big talking, anxiety is clearly manifested, as appears from the following remarks of the Debats: — NEXT FREXCH REVOLUTION 473 " The courier from the Rhine department," says the Dchats, " brings us the following astounding Procla- mation:— " ' Strasburg, xxii. Nivose: Decadi. 92nd year of the Republic, one and indivisible. We, John Thomas Na- poleon, by the constitutions of the Empire, Emperor of the French Republic, to our marshals, generals, officers, and soldiers, greeting: "'Soldiers! " ' From the summit of the Pyramids forty centuries look down upon you. The sun of Austerlitz has risen once more. The Guard dies, but never surrenders. ^ly eagles, flying from steeple to steeple, never shall droop till they perch on the towers of Notre Dame. " ' Soldiers! the child of your Father has remained long in exile. I have seen the fields of Europe where your laurels are now withering, and I have communed with the dead who repose beneath them. They ask where are our children? Where is France? Europe no longer glitters with the shine of its triumphant bay- onets—echoes no more with the shouts of its victorious cannon. Who could reply to such a question save with a blush?— And does a blush become the cheeks of Frenchmen? " ' No. Let us wipe from our faces that degrading mark of shame. Come, as of old, and rally round my eagles! You have been subject to fiddling pru- dence long enough. Come, worship now at the shrine of Glory! You have been promised liberty, })ut you have had none. I will endow you with the true, the real freedom. When your ancestors burst over the Alps, were they not free? Yes; imc to con(]uer. Let us imitate the example of those indomitable myriads; 474 THE HISTORY OF THE and, flinging a defiance to Europe, once more trample over her; march in triumph into her prostrate capitals, and bring her kings with her treasures at our feet. This is the liberty worthy of Frenchmen. "'Frenchmen! I promise you that the Rhine shall be restored to you; and that England shall rank no more among the nations. I will have a marine that shall drive her ships from the seas; a few of my brave regi- ments will do the rest. Henceforth, the traveller in that desert island shall ask, " Was it this wretched cor- ner of the world that for a thousand years defied Frenchmen? " '"Frenchmen, up and rally! — I have flung my ban- ner to the breezes ; 'tis surrounded by the faithful and the brave. Up, and let our motto be, Liberty, Equality, War all over the World ! " ' Napoleon HI. " ' The Marshal of the Empire, Haricot.' " Such is the Proclamation! such the hopes that a bru- tal-minded and bloody adventurer holds out to our coun- try. ' War all over the world,' is the cry of the savage demon; and the fiends who have ralHed round him echo it in concert. We were not, it appears, correct in stating that a corporal's guard had been sufficient to seize upon the marauder, when the first fire would have served to conclude his miserable life. But, like a hideous disease, the contagion has spread ; the remedy must be dreadful. Woe to those on whom it will fall ! " His Royal Highness the Prince of Joinville, Ad- miral of France, has hastened, as we before stated, to the disturbed districts, and takes with him his Cavalerie de la Marine. It is hard to think that the blades of those NEXT FREXCII REVOLUTION 475 chivalrous heroes must be buried in the bosoms of Frenchmen: but so be it: it is those monsters who have asked for blood, not we. It is those ruffians who have begun the quarrel, not we. We remain calm and hope- ful, reposing under the protection of the dearest and best of sovereigns. " The wretched pretender, who called himself Duke of Brittany, has been seized, according to our prophecy: he was brought before the Prefect of Police yesterday, and his insanity being proved beyond a doubt, he has been consigned to a strait-waistcoat at Charenton. So may all incendiary enemies of our Government be over- come! " His Royal Highness the Duke of Nemours is gone into the department of the Loire, where he will speedily put an end to the troubles in the disturbed districts of the Bocage and La Vendee. The foolish young Prince, who has there raised his standard, is followed, we hear, by a small number of wretched persons, of whose massacre we expect every moment to receive the news. He too has issued his Proclamation, and our readers will smile at its contents : " ' We, Henry, Fifth of the Name, King of France and Navarre, to all whom it may concern, greeting: " 'After years of exile we have once more unfurled in France the banner of the lilies. Once more the white plume of Henri IV. floats in the crest of his little son {petit fih) ! Gallant nobles! worthy l)urgesses! Jionest commons of my realm, I call upon you to rally round the oriflamme of France, and summon the ban arriercJxin of my kingdoms. To my faithful Bretons I need not ap- peal. The country of Diigueschn has loyalty for an 476 THE HISTORY OF THE heirloom! To the rest of my subjects, my atheist mis- guided subjects, their father makes one last appeal. Come to me, my children ! your errors shall be forgiven. Our Holy Father, the Pope, shall intercede for you. He promised it when, before my departure on this expedi- tion, I kissed his inviolable toe ! " ' Our afflicted country cries aloud for reforms. The infamous universities shall be abolished. Education shall no longer be permitted. A sacred and wholesome inquisition shall be established. My faithful nobles shall pay no more taxes. All the venerable institutions of our country shall be restored as they existed before 1788. Convents and monasteries again shall ornament our country, — the calm nurseries of saints and holy women! Heresy shall be extirpated with paternal severity, and our country shall be free once more. " ' His Majesty the King of Ireland, my august ally, has sent, under the command of His Royal Highness Prince Daniel, his Majesty's youngest son, an irresistible Irish Brigade, to co-operate in the good work. His Grace the Lion of Judah, the canonized patriarch of Tuam, blessed their green banner before they set forth. Henceforth may the lilies and the harp be ever twined together. Together we will make a crusade against the infidels of Albion, and raze their heretic domes to the ground. Let our cry be, Vive la France! down with England! Mont joie St. Denis! " ' By the King. " ' The Secretary of State and Grand Inquisitor La Roue. The Marshal of France Pompadour de l'Aile DE Pigeon. NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 477 The General Comman- der-in-Chief of the Irish Brigade in the service of his JNIost Christian Majesty. . Daniel, Prince of Ballybunion. ' HENRI.' " " His Majesty reviewed the admirable Police force, and held a council of Ministers in the afternoon. JNIeas- ures were concerted for the instant putting down of the disturbances in the departments of the Rhine and Loire, and it is arranged that on the capture of the pretenders, they shall be lodged in separate cells in the prison of the Luxembourg : the apartments are already prepared, and the officers at their posts. " The grand banquet that was to be given at the palace to-day to the diplomatic body, has been put off; all the ambassadors being attacked with illness, which compels them to stay at home." " The ambassadors despatched couriers to their vari- ous Governments." *' His Majesty the King of the Belgians left the pal- ace of the Tuileries." 478 THE HISTORY OF THE CHAPTER III THE ADVANCE OF THE PRETENDERS — HISTORICAL REVIEW We will now resume the narrative, and endeavour to compress, in a few comprehensive pages, the facts which are more diffusely described in the print from which we have quoted. It was manifest, then, that the troubles in the depart- ments were of a serious nature, and that the forces gath- ered round the two pretenders to the crown were consid- erable. They had their supporters too in Paris, — as what party indeed has not? and the venerable occupant of the throne was in a state of considerable anxiety, and found his declining years by no means so comfortable as his vir- tues and great age might have warranted. His paternal heart was the more grieved when he thought of the fate reserved to his children, grandchil- dren, and great-grandchildren, now sprung up around him in vast numbers. The King's grandson, the Prince Royal, married to a Princess of the house of Schlippen- Schloppen, was the father of fourteen children, all hand- somely endowed with pensions by the State. His brother, the Count D'Eu, was similarly blessed with a multitudinous offspring. The Duke of Nemours had no children; but the Princes of Joinville, Aumale, and Montpensier (married to the Princesses Januaria and Februaria, of Brazil, and the Princess of the United States of America, erected into a monarchy, 4th July, 1856, under the Emperor Duff Green I.) were the happy fathers of immense families— all liberally appor- NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 479 tioned by the Chambers, which had long been entirely subservient to his ^lajesty Louis Philippe. The Duke of Aumale was King of Algeria, having married (in the first instance) the Princess Badroulbou- dour, a daughter of his Highness Abd-El-Kader. The Prince of Joinville was adored by the nation, on account of his famous victory over the English fleet under the command of Admiral the Prince of Wales, whose ship, the " Richard Cobden," of 120 guns, was taken by the " Belle-Poule " frigate of 36: on which occasion forty- five other ships of war and seventy-nine steam- frigates struck their colours to about one-fourth the number of the heroic French nsLvj. The victory was mainly owing to the gallantry of the celebrated French horse-marines, who executed several brilliant charges under the orders of the intrepid Joinville; and though the Irish Brigade, w^th their ordinary modesty, claimed the honours of the day, yet, as only three of that nation were present in the action, impartial history must award the palm to the in- trepid sons of Gaul. With so numerous a family quartered on the nation, the soHcitude of the admirable King may be conceived, lest a revolution should ensue, and fling them on the world once more. How could he support so numerous a family? Considerable as his wealth was, (for he was known to have amassed about a hundred and tliirteen billions, which were lying in the caves of the Tuilcries,) yet such a sum was quite insignificant when divided among his progeny; and, besides, he naturally ])referred getting from the nation as much as his faithful i)e()ple could possibly afford. Seeing the imminency of the danger, and tluit money, well applied, is often more efficacious than the conquer- 480 THE HISTORY OF THE or's sword, the King's Ministers were anxious that he should devote a part of his savings to the carrying on of the war. But, with the cautiousness of age, the monarch dechned this offer; he preferred, he said, throwing him- self upon his faithful people, who, he was sure, would meet, as became them, the coming exigency. The Cham- bers met his appeal with their usual devotion. At a sol- emn convocation of those legislative bodies, the King, surrounded by his family, explained the circumstances and the danger. His Majesty, his family, his Ministers, and the two Chambers, then burst into tears, according to immemorial usage, and raising their hands to the ceil- ing, swore eternal fidelity to the dynasty and to France, and embraced each other aff ectingly all round. It need not be said that in the course of that evening two hundred Deputies of the Left left Paris, and joined the Prince John Thomas Napoleon, who was now ad- NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 481 vanced as far as Dijon: two hundred and fifty-three (of the Right, the Centre, and Round the Corner,) similarly quitted the capital to pay their homage to the IDuke of Bordeaux. They were follow^ed, according to their sev- eral political predilections, by the various ^linisters and dignitaries of State. The only Minister who remained in Paris was ^larshal Thiers, Prince of Waterloo (he had defeated the English in the very field where they had obtained formerly a success, though the victory was as usual claimed by the Irish Brigade) ; but age had ruined the health and diminished the immense strength of that gigantic leader, and it is said his only reason for remain- ing in Paris was because a fit of the gout kept him in bed. The capital was entirely tranquil. The theatres and cafes were open as usual, and the masked balls attended with great enthusiasm: confiding in their hundred and twenty-four forts, the light-minded people had nothing to fear. Except in the way of money, the King left nothing undone to conciliate his people. He even went among them with his umbrella ; but they were little touched with that mark of confidence. He shook hands with every- body ; he distributed crosses of the Legion of Honour in such multitudes, that red ribbon rose two hundred per cent, in the market (by which his Majesty, who specu- lated in the article, cleared a tolerable sum of money). But these blandishments and lionours had little effect upon an apathetic people; and the enemy of the Orleans dynasty, the fashionable young nobles of the IIenri(iuin- quiste party, wore gloves perpetually, for fear (they said) that they sliould be obbged to shake hands witli the best of kings; while the Republicans a(l()])ted coats 482 THE HISTORY OF THE without button-holes, lest they should be forced to hang red ribbons in them. The funds did not fluctuate in the least. The proclamations of the several pretenders had had their eff*ect. The young men of the schools and the es- taminets (celebrated j)laces of public education) allured by the noble words of Prince Napoleon, " Liberty, equality, war all over the world! " flocked to his standard in considerable numbers: while the noblesse naturally hastened to ofl'er their allegiance to the legitimate de- scendant of Sain Louis. And truly, never was there seen a more brilliant chiv- alry than that collected round the gallant Prince Henry ! There was not a man in his army but had lacquered boots and fresh white kid-gloves at morning and evening parade. The fantastic and eff*eminate but brave and faithful troops were numbered off into difl*erent legions ; there was the Fleur-d'Orange regiment; the Eau-de- Rose battalion; the Violet-Pomatum volunteers; the Eau-de-Cologne cavalry— according to the difl'erent scents W'hich they afl*ected. Most of the warriors wore lace ruffles; all powder and pigtails, as in the real days of chivalry. A band of heavy dragoons under the com- mand of Count Alfred de Horsay made themselves con- spicuous for their discipline, cruelty, and the admirable cut of their coats; and with these celebrated horsemen came from England the illustrious Duke of Jenkins with his superb footmen. They w^ere all six feet high. They all wore bouquets of the richest flowers : they wore bags, their hair slightly powdered, brilliant shoulder- knots, and cocked-hats laced with gold. They wore the tight knee-pantaloon of velveteen peculiar to this por- tion of the British infantry; and their legs were so su- NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 483 perb, that the Duke of Bordeaux, embracing with tears their admirable leader on parade, said, " Jenkins, France never saw such calves until now." The weapon of this tremendous militia was an immense club or cane, reach- ing from the sole of the foot to the nose, and heavily mounted with gold. Nothing could stand before this terrific weapon, and the breastj)lates and plumed mori- ons of the French cuirassiers would have been undoubt- edly crushed beneath them, had they ever met in mortal combat. Between this part of the Prince's forces and the Irish auxiliaries there was a deadly animosity. Alas, there always is such in camps ! The sons of Albion had not forgotten the day when the children of Erin had been subject to their devastating sway. The uniform of the latter was various — the rich stuff called corps-du-roy (worn by Coeur de Lion at Agin- court) formed their lower habiliments for the most part: the national frieze^ yielded them tail-coats. The latter were generally torn in a fantastic manner at tlie elbows, skirts, and collars, and fastened \\\\.\\ every variety of button, tape, and string. Their weapons were the cau- been, the alpeen, and the doodccn of the country — the 1 Were these in any way related tf) tlm rhevaux-de-frise on which the French cavalry were mounted ? 484 THE HISTORY OF THE latter a short but dreadful weapon of offence. At the demise of the venerable Theobald Mathew, the nation had laid aside its habit of temperance, and universal in- toxication betokened their grief; it became afterwards their constant habit. Thus do men ever return to the haunts of their childhood: such a power has fond mem- ory over us ! The leaders of this host seem to have been, however, an effeminate race; they are represented by contemporary historians as being passionately fond of flying kites. Others say they went into battle armed with " bills," no doubt rude w^eapons; for it is stated that foreigners could never be got to accept them in lieu of their ow^n arms. The Princes of Mayo, Donegal, and Connemara, marched by the side of their young and voy2i\ chieftain, the Prince of Ballybunion, fourth son of Daniel the First, King of the Emerald Isle. Two hosts then, one under the Eagles, and surrounded by the republican imperialists, the other under the an- tique French Lilies, were marching on the French cap- ital. The Duke of Brittany, too, confined in the lunatic asylum of Charenton, found means to issue a protest against his captivity, which caused only derision in the capital. Such was the state of the empire, and such the clouds that were gathering round the Sun of Orleans ! CHAPTER IV THE BATTLE OF RHEIMS It was not the first time that the King had had to un- dergo misfortunes ; and now, as then, he met them like a man. The Prince of Joinville was not successful in his NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 485 campaign against the Imperial Pretender: and that bravery which had put the British fleet to flight, was found, as might be expected, insufficient against the ir- resistible courage of native Frenchmen. The Horse IVIarines, not being on their own element, could not act with their usual effect. Accustomed to the tumult of the swelling seas, they were easily unsaddled on terra firma and in the champagne country. It was literally in the Champagne country that the meeting between the troops under Joinville and Prince Napoleon took place! for both armies had reached Rheims, and a terrific battle was fought underneath the walls. For some time nothing could dislodge tlie army of Joinville, entrenched in the cliampagne cellars of Messrs. Ruinart, Moet, and others; but making too free with the fascinating liquor, the army at length became 486 THE HISTOllY OF THE entirely drunk: on which the ImperiaHsts, rushing into the cellars, had an easy victory over them ; and, this done, proceeded to intoxicate themselves likewise. The Prince of Joinville, seeing the deroute of his troops, was compelled with a few faithful followers to fly towards Paris, and Prince Xapoleon remained master of the field of battle. It is needless to recapitulate the bulletin which he published the day after the occasion, so soon as he and his secretaries were in a condition to write : eagles, pyramids, rainbows, the sun of Austerlitz^ &c. figured in the proclamation, in close imitation of his illustrious uncle. But the great benefit of the action was this: on arousing from their intoxication, the late soldiers of Joinville kissed and embraced their comrades of the Imperial army, and made common cause with them. " Soldiers!" said the Prince, on reviewing them the second day after the action, " the Cock is a gallant bird; but he makes way for the Eagle ! Your colours are not chano-ed. Ours floated on the walls of IMoscow — vours on the ramparts of Constantine ; both are glorious. Sol- diers of Joinville! we give you welcome, as we would welcome your illustrious leader, who destroj^ed the fleets of Albion. Let him join us! We will march together against that perfidious enemy. "But, Soldiers! intoxication dimmed the laurels of yesterday's glorious day! Let us drink no more of the fascinating liquors of our native Champagne. Let us remember Hannibal and Capua; and, before we plunge into dissipation, that we have Rome still to conquer ! " Soldiers! Seltzer-water is good after too much drink. Wait awhile, and your Emperor will lead you into a Seltzer-water country. Frenchmen ! it lies beyond THE Rhine! " NEXT FREXCH REVOLUTION 487 Deafening shouts of " Vive VEmiKreurl " saluted this allusion of the Prince, and the army knew that their natural boundary should be restored to them. The com- pliments to the gallantry of the Prince of Joinville like- wise won all hearts, and inmiensely advanced the Prince's cause. The Journal des Dcbats did not know which way to turn. In one paragraph it called the Emperor " a sanguinary tyrant, murderer, and pickpocket;" in a second it owned he was " a magnanimous rebel, and wor- thy of forgiveness ; " and, after proclaiming "the bril- liant victory of the Prince of Joinville," presently de- nominated it a '' funeste journee." The next day the Emperor, as we may now call him, was about to march on Paris, when INIessrs. Ruinart and Moet were presented, and requested to be paid for 300,- 000 bottles of wine. " Send three hundred thousand more to the Tuileries," said the Prince, sternly: "our soldiers will be thirsty when they reach Paris." And taking Moet with him as a hostage, and promising Ruinart that he would have him shot unless he obeyed, with trumpets playing and eagles glancing in the sun, the gallant Imperial army marched on their triumphant way. CHAPTER V THE BATTLE OV TOURS We have now to record the ex])edition of the Prince of Nemours against his advancing cousin, Ilciuy V. II is Royal Highness could not marcli against the enemy witli such a force as he would have desired to bring against them ; for his royal father, wisely remembering the vast 488 THE HISTORY OF THE amount of property he had stowed away under the Tuileries, refused to allow a single soldier to quit the forts round the capital, which thus was defended by one hundred and forty-four thousand guns (eighty-four- pounders), and four hundred and thirty-two thousand men: — little enough, when one considers that there were but three men to a gun. To j)rovision this immense army, and a population of double the amount within the walls, his Majesty caused the country to be scoured for fifty miles round, and left neither ox, nor ass, nor blade of grass. When appealed to by the inhabitants of the plundered district, the royal Philip replied, with tears in his eyes, that his heart bled for them — that they were his children— that every cow taken from the meanest peasant was like a limb torn from his own body ; but that duty must be done, that the interests of the country de- manded the sacrifice, and that in fact they might go to the deuce. This the unfortunate creatures certainly did. The theatres went on as usual within the walls. The Journal des Debats stated every day that the pretenders were taken; the Chambers sat— such as remained— and talked immensely about honour, dignity, and the glorious revolution of July ; and the King, as his power was now pretty nigh absolute over them, thought this a good op- portunity to bring in a bill for doubling his children's allowances all round. Meanwhile the Duke of Nemours proceeded on his march; and as there was nothing left within fifty miles of Paris wherewith to support his famished troops, it may be imagined that he was forced to ransack the next fifty miles in order to maintain them. He did so. But the troops were not such as they should have been, con- sidering the enemy with whom they had to engage. NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 489 . The fact is, that most of the Duke's army consisted of the National Guard ; who, in a fit of enthusiasm, and at the cry of " la patrie en danger " having been induced to volunteer, had been eagerly accepted by his Majesty, anxious to lessen as much as possible the number of food- consumers in his beleaguered capital. It is said even that he selected the most gormandizing battalions of the civic force to send forth against the enemy: viz. the gro- cers, the rich bankers, the lawyers, &c. Their parting with their families was very affecting. They would have been very willing to recall their offer of marching, but companies of stern veterans closing round them, marched them to the city gates, which were closed upon them; and thus perforce they were compelled to move on. As long as he had a bottle of brandy and a couple of sau- sages in his holsters, the General of the National Guard, Odillon Barrot, talked with tremendous courage. Such was the power of his eloquence over the troops, that, could he have come up with the enemy while his victuals lasted, the issue of the combat might have been very dif- ferent. But in the course of the first day's march he finished both the sausages and the brandy, and became quite uneasy, silent, and crest-fallen. It was on the fair plains of Touraine, by the banks of silver I^oire, that the armies sat down before each other, and the battle was to take place wliich luid sucli an effect upon the fortunes of France. 'Twas a brisk day of March: the practised valour of Nemours showed him at once what use to make of the army under his orders, and having enfiladed his National Guard battalions, and placed his artillery in echelons, he formed his cavalry into hollow squares on the right and left of his line, fling- ing out a cloud of howitzers to fall back upon the main 490 THE HISTORY OF THE column. His veteran infantry he formed behind his Na- tional Guard — politely hinting to Odillon Barrot, who wished to retire under pretence of being exceedingly unwell, that the regular troops would bayonet the Na- tional Guard if they gave way an inch: on which their General, turning very pale, demurely went back to his post. His men were dreadfully discouraged; they had slept on the ground all night ; they regretted their homes and their comfortable nightcaps in the Rue St. Honore: they had luckily fallen in with a flock of sheep and a drove of oxen at Tours the day before; but what were these, compared to the delicacies of Chevet's or three courses at Vefour's? They mournfully cooked their steaks and cutlets on their ramrods, and passed a most wretched night. The army of Henry was encamped opposite to them, for the most part in better order. The noble cavalry regiments found a village in which they made themselves pretty comfortable, Jenkins's Foot taking possession of the kitchens and garrets of the buildings. The Irish Brigade, accustomed to lie abroad, were quartered in some potato-fields, where the}^ sang Moore's melodies all night. There were, besides the troops regular and ir- regular, about three thousand priests and abbes with the army, armed with scourging-whips, and chanting the most lugubrious canticles: these reverend men were found to be a hindrance rather than otherwise to the operations of the regular forces. It was a touching sight, on the morning before the battle, to see the alacrity with which Jenkins's regiment sprung up at the first reveille of the bell, and engaged (the honest fellows!) in offices almost menial for the benefit of their French allies. The Duke himself set the NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 491 example, and blacked to a nicety the boots of Henri. At half -past ten, after coffee, the brilliant warriors of the cavalry were ready; their clarions rung to horse, their banners were given to the wind, their shirt-collars were exquisitely starched, and the whole air was scented with the odours of their pomatums and pocket-handkerchiefs. Jenkins had the honour of holding the stirrup for Henri. " My faithful Duke! " said the Prince, pulling him by the shoulder-knot, " thou art always at ihij Post" " Here, as in Wellington Street, sire," said the hero, blushing. And the Prince made an approj)riate speech to his chivalry, in which allusions to the lilies. Saint Louis, Bayard and Henri Quatre, were, as may be imagined, not spared. " Ho! standard-bearer!" the Prince concluded, " fling out my oriflamme. Noble gents of France, your King is among you to-day! " Then turning to the Prince of Rallyliuiiion, Avho had been drinking whisky-punch all night with the Princes 492 THE HISTORY OF THE of Donegal and Connemara, " Prince," he said, " the Irish Brigade has won every battle in the French his- tory—we will not deprive you of the honour of win- ning this. You will please to commence the attack with your brigade." Bending his head until the green plumes of his beaver mingled with the mane of the Shetland pony which he rode, the Prince of Ireland trotted off with his aides-de-camp; who rode the same horses, powerful greys, with which a dealer at Nantz had supplied them on their and the Prince's joint bill at three months. The gallant sons of Erin had wisely slept until the last minute in their potato-trenches, but rose at once at the summons of their beloved Prince. Their toilet was the work of a moment— a single shake and it was done. Rapidly forming into a line, they advanced headed by their Generals,— who, turning their steeds into a grass-field, wisely determined to fight on foot. Behind them came the line of British foot under the illustrious Jenkins, who marched in advance perfectly collected, and smoking a Manilla cigar. The cavalry were on the right and left of the infantry, prepared to act in pontoon, in echelon, or in ricochet, as occasion might demand. The Prince rode behind, supported by his Staff, who were almost all of them bishops, arch- deacons, or abbes ; and the body of ecclesiastics followed, singing to the sound, or rather howl, of serpents and trombones, the Latin canticles of the Reverend Fran- ciscus O'Mahony, lately canonized under the name of Saint Francis of Cork. The advanced lines of the two contending armies were now in presence — the National Guard of Orleans and the Irish Brigade. The white belts and fat NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 493 paunches of the Guard presented a terrific appearance; but it might have been remarked by the close observer, that their faces were as white as their belts, and the long line of their bayonets might be seen to quiver. General Odillon Barrot, with a cockade as large as a pancake, endeavoured to make a speech: the words hoiineiir, patrie, Fraufaisj champ de bataille might be distin- guished; but the General was dreadfully flustered, and was evidently more at home in the Chamber of Depu- ties than in the field of war. The Prince of Ballybunion, for a wonder, did not make a speech. " Boys," said he, " we've enough talk- ing at the Corn Exchange; bating's the word now." The Green-Islanders replied with a tremendous hurroo, which sent terror into the fat bosoms of the French. " Gentlemen of the National Guard," said the Prince, taking off his hat and bowing to Odillon Barrot, " will ye be so igsthramely obleeging as to fire first." This he said because it had been said at Fontenoy, but chiefly because his own men were only armed with shillelaghs, and therefore could not fire. But this proposal was very unpalatable to the Na- tional Guardsmen : for though they understood the mus- ket-exercise pretty well, firing was the thing of all others they detested — the noise, and the kick of the gun, and the smell of the powder being very unpleasant to them. "We won't fire," said Odillon Barrot, turning round to Colonel Saugrenue and his regiment of the line— which, it may be remembered, was formed behind the National Guard. " Then give them the bayonet," said the Colonel, with a terrific oath. " Charge, corbleu ! " At this moment, and with the most dreadful howl 494 THE HISTORY OF THE thtat ever was heard, the National Guard was seen to rush forwards wildly, and with immense velocity, to- wards the foe. The fact is, that the line regiment be- hind them, each selecting his man, gave a poke with his bayonet between the coat-tails of the Nationals, and those troops bounded forwards with an irresistible swift- ness. Nothing could withstand the tremendous impetus of that manoeuvre. The Irish Brigade was scattered before it, as chaff before the wind. The Prince of Ballybunion had barely time to run Odillon Barrot through the body, when he too was borne away in the swift route. They scattered tumultuously, and fled for twenty miles with- out stopping. The Princes of Donegal and Connemara were taken prisoners; but though they offered to give bills at three months, and for a hundred thousand NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 495 pounds, for their ransom, the oifer was refused, and they were sent to the rear; when the Duke of Nemours, hearing they were Irish Generals, and that they had been robbed of their ready money by his troops, who had taken them prisoners, caused a comfortable breakfast to be supplied to them, and lent them each a sum of money. How generous are men in success! — the Prince of Orleans was charmed with the conduct of his Na- tional Guards, and thought his victory secure. He des- patched a courier to Paris with the brief words, " We met the enemy before Tours. The National Guard has done its duty. The troops of the pretender are routed. Vive le Roi! " The note, you may be sure, appeared in the Journal des Debats, and the editor, who only that morning had called Henri V. " a great prince, an au- gust exile," denominated him instantly a murderer, slave, thief, cut-throat, pickpocket, and burglar. CHAPTER VI THE ENGLISH UNDER JENKINS But the Prince had not calculated tliat tlicrc was a line of British infantry behind the routed Irish Biigade. Borne on with the hurry of the mcice, flushed M'ith triumph, puffing and blowing with running, and forget- ting, in the intoxication of victory, tlic trifling bayonet- pricks which had impelled them to the charge, the conquering National Guardsmen found themselves sud- denly in presence of Jenkins's Foot. 496 THE HISTORY OF THE They halted all in a huddle, like a flock of sheep. " Up, Foot, and at them! " were the memorable words of the Duke Jenkins, as, waving his baton, he pointed towards the enemy, and with a tremendous shout the stalwart sons of England rushed on! — Down went plume and cocked-hat, down went corporal and captain, down went grocer and tailor, under the long staves of the indomitable English Footmen. " A Jen- kins! a Jenkins!" roared the Duke, planting a blow which broke the aquiline nose of Major Arago, the celebrated astronomer. "St. George for Mayfair!" shouted his followers, strewing the plain with carcases. Not a man of the Guard escaped; they fell like grass before the mower. " They are gallant troops, those yellow-plushed An- glais," said the Duke of Nemours, surveying them with his opera-glass. " 'Tis a pity they will all be cut up in half an hour. Concombre! take yowx dragoons, and do it! " " Remember Waterloo, boys! " said Colonel Con- combre, twirling his moustache, and a thousand sabres flashed in the sun, and the gallant hussars prepared to attack the Englishmen. Jenkins, his gigantic form leaning on his stafl", and surveying the havoc of the field, was instantly aware of the enemy's manoeuvre. His people were employed rifling the pockets of the National Guard, and had made a tolerable booty, when the great Duke, taking a bell out of his pocket, (it was used for signals in his battalion in place of fife or bugle) , speedily called his scattered war- riors together. " Take the muskets of the Nationals," said he. They did so. " Form in square, and prepare to receive cavalry!" By the time Concombre's regiment NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 497 arrived, he found a square of bristling bayonets with Britons behind them! The Colonel did not care to attempt to break that tre- mendous body. " Halt! " said he to his men. " Fire! " screamed Jenkins, with eagle swiftness; but the guns of the National Guard not being loaded, did not in consequence go off. The hussars gave a jeer of derision, but nevertheless did not return to the attack, and seeing some of the Legitimist cavalry at hand, pre- pared to charge upon them. The fate of those carpet warriors was soon decided. The Millefleur regiment broke before Concombre's hus- sars instantaneously; the Eau-de-Rose dragoons stuck spurs into their blood horses, and galloped far out of reach of the opposing cavalry; the Eau-de-Cologne Ian- 498 THE HISTORY OF THE cers fainted to a man, and the regiment of Concombre, pursuing its course, had actually reached the Prince and his aides-de-camp, when the clergymen coming up formed gallantly round the oriflamme, and the bassoons and serpents braying again, set up such a shout of canti- cles, and anathemas, and excommunications, that the horses of Concombre's dragoons in turn took fright, and those warriors in their turn broke and fled. As soon as they turned, the Vendean riflemen fired amongst them and finished them: the gallant Concombre fell; the in- trepid though diminutive Cornichon, his major, was cut down ; Cardon was wounded a la moelle, and the wife of the fiery Navet was that day a widow. Peace to the souls of the brave! In defeat or in victory, where can the soldier find a more fitting resting-place than the glo- rious field of carnage? Only a few disorderly and dis- spirited riders of Concombre's regiment reached Tours at night. They had left it but the day before, a thousand disciplined and high-spirited men! Knowing how irresistible a weapon is the bayonet in British hands, the intrepid Jenkins determined to carry on his advantage, and charged the Saugrenue light in- fantry (now before him) with cold steel. The French- men delivered a volley, of which a shot took effect in Jenkins's cockade, but did not abide the crossing of the weapons. "A Frenchman dies but never surrenders," said Saugrenue, yielding up his sword, and his whole regiment were stabbed, trampled down, or made pris- oners. The blood of the Englishmen rose in the hot en- counter. Their curses were horrible; their courage tre- mendous. "On! on!" hoarsely screamed they; and a second regiment met them and was crushed, pounded in the hurtling, grinding encounter. "A Jenkins, a Jen- NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 499 kins!" still roared the heroic Duke; " St. George for Mayfair! " The Footmen of England still yelled their terrific battle-cry, "Hurra, hurra!" On they went; regiment after regiment was annihilated, until, scared at the very trample of the advancing warriors, the dis- mayed troops of France screaming fled. Gathering his last warriors round about him, Nemours determined to make a last desperate effort. 'Twas vain : the ranks met ; the next moment the truncheon of the Prince of Orleans was dashed from his hand by the irresistible mace of the Duke Jenkins ; his horse's shins were broken by the same weapon. Screaming with agony the animal fell. Jen- kins's hand was at the Duke's collar in a moment, and had he not gasped out, " Je me rends! " he would have been throttled in that dreadful grasp ! Three hundred and forty-two standards, seventy-nine regiments, their baggage, ammunition, and treasure- chests, fell into the hands of the victorious Duke. He had avenged the honour of Old England; and himself presenting the sword of the conquered Nemours to Prince Henri, who now came up, the Prince, bursting into tears, fell on his neck and said, " Duke, I owe my crown to my patron saint and you." It was indeed a glorious victory: but what will not JJritish valour attain? 500 THE HISTORY OF THE The Duke of Nemours, having despatched a brief note to Paris, saying, " Sire, all is lost except honour! " was sent off in confinement ; and in spite of the entreaties of his captor, was hardly treated with decent politeness. The priests and the noble regiments who rode back when the affair was over, were for having the Prince shot at once, and murmured loudly against " cet Anglais bru- tal " who interposed in behalf of his prisoner. Henri V. granted the Prince his life ; but, no doubt misguided by the advice of his noble and ecclesiastical counsellors, treated the illustrious English Duke with marked cold- ness, and did not even ask him to supper that night. "Well!" said Jenkins, "I and my merry men can sup alone." And, indeed, having had the pick of the plunder of about 28,000 men, they had wherewithal to make themselves pretty comfortable. The prisoners (25,403) were all without difficulty induced to assume the white cockade. Most of them had those marks of loyalty ready sewn in their flannel-waistcoats, where they swore they had worn them ever since 1830. This we may believe, and we will; but the Prince Henri was too po- litic or too good-humoured in the moment of victory, to doubt the sincerity of his new subjects' protestations, and received the Colonels and Generals affably at his table. The next morning a proclamation was issued to the united armies. " Faithful soldiers of France and Na- varre," said the Prince, " the saints have won for us a great victory — the enemies of our religion have been overcome — the lilies are restored to their native soil. Yesterday morning at eleven o'clock the army under my command engaged that which was led by his Serene Highness the Duke de Nemours. Our forces were but NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 501 a third in number when compared with those of the enemy. INIy faithful chivah-y and nobles made the strength, however, equal. " The regiments of Fleur-d'Orange, Millefleur, and Eau-de-Cologne covered themselves with glory: they sabred many thousands of the enemy's troops. Their valour was ably seconded by the gallantry of my eccle- siastical friends: at a moment of danger they rallied round my banner, and forsaking the crosier for the sword, showed that they were of the church militant indeed. " My faithful Irish auxiliaries conducted themselves with becoming heroism— but why particularize when all did their duty? How remember individual acts when all were heroes? " The Marshal of France, Sucre d'Orge- ville, Commander of the Army of H. M. Christian Maj- esty, recommended about three thousand persons for promotion ; and the indignation of Jenkins and his brave companions may be imagined when it is stated that they were not even mentioned in the despatch ! As for the Princes of Ballybunion, Donegal, and Con- nemara, they wrote off despatches to their Government, saying, " The Duke of Nemours is beaten, and a pris- oner ! The Irish Brigade has done it all ! " On which his Majesty the King of the Irish, convoking his Parlia- ment at the Corn Exchange Palace, Dublin, made a speech, in which he called Louis Philippe an " old mis- creant," and paid the highest compliments to his son and his troops. The King on this occasion knighted Sir Henry Sheehan, Sir Gavan Duffy (whose journals had published the news), and was so delighted with the val- our of his son, that lie despatched him his Order of the Pig and Whistle (1st class) , and a munificent present of 502 THE HISTORY OF THE five hundred thousand pounds— in a bill at three months. All Dublin was illuminated ; and at a ball at the Castle the Lord Chancellor Smith (Earl of Smithereens) get- ting extremely intoxicated, called out the Lord Bishop of Galway (the Dove) , and they fought in the Phoenix Park. Having shot the Right Reverend Bishop through the body, Smithereens apologized. He was the same practitioner who had rendered himself so celebrated in the memorable trial of the King— before the Act of In- dependence. Meanwhile, the army of Prince Henri advanced with rapid strides towards Paris, whither the History likewise must hasten ; for extraordinary were the events prepar- ing in that capital. CHAPTER VII THE LEAGUER OF PARIS By a singular coincidence, on the very same day when the armies of Henri V. appeared before Paris from the Western Road, those of the Emperor John Thomas Na- poleon arrived from the North. Skirmishes took place between the advanced-guards of the two parties, and much slaughter ensued. " Bon! " thought King Louis Philippe, who examined them from his tower; " they will kill each other. This is by far the most economical way of getting rid of them." The astute monarch's calculations were admir- ably exposed by a clever remark of the Prince of Bally- bunion. " Faix, Harry," says he (with a familiarity NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 503 which the punctihous son of Saint Louis resented) , " you and him yandther— the Emperor, I mane— are like the Kilkenny cats, dear." " Et que font-ils ces chats de Kilkigny, Monsieur le Prince de Ballyhunion? " asked the Most Christian King haughtily. Prince Daniel replied by narrating the well-known apologue of the animals " ating each other all up but their teels; and that's what you and Imparial Pop yond- ther will do, blazing away as ye are," added the jocose and royal boy. " Je prie votre Altesse Royale de vaguer a ses propres affaires," answered Prince Henri sternly: for he was an enemy to anything like a joke; but there is always wis- dom in real wit, and it would have been well for his Most Christian JMajestj^ had he followed the facetious coun- sels of his Irish ally. The fact is, the King, Henri, had an understanding with the garrisons of some of the forts, and expected all would declare for him. However, of the twenty-four forts which we have described, eight only — and by the means of JNIarshal Soult, who had grown extremely de- vout of late years — declared for Henri, and raised the white flag: while eight others, seeing Prince John Thomas Napoleon before them in the costume of his re- vered predecessor, at once flung open their gates to him, and mounted the tricolour with the eagle. The remain- ing eight, into which the Princes of the blood of Orleans had thrown themselves, remained constant to Louis Philippe. Nothing could induce that Prince to quit the Tuileries. His money was there, and he swore he would remain by it. In vain his sons off*ered to bring him into one of the forts— he would not stir without his treasure. 504 THE HISTORY OF THE They said they would transport it thither ; but no, no : the patriarchal monarch, putting his finger to his aged nose, and winking archly, said " he knew a trick worth two of that," and resolved to abide by his bags. The theatres and cafes remained open as usual: the funds rose three centimes. The Journal des Dehats pub- lished three editions of different tones of politics: one, the Journal de V Empire, for the Napoleonites ; the Jour- nal de la Legitimite another, very complimentary to the Legitimate monarch; and finally, the original edition, bound heart and soul to the dynasty of July. The poor editor, who had to write all three, complained not a little that his salary was not raised: but the truth is, that, by altering the names, one article did indifferently for either paper. The Duke of Brittany, under the title of NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 505 Louis XVIL, was always issuing manifestoes from Charenton, but of these the Parisians took Httle heed : the Charivari proclaimed itself his Gazette, and was allowed to be very witty at the expense of the three pretenders. As the country had been ravaged for a hundred miles round, the respective Princes of course were for throw- ing themselves into the forts, where there was plenty of provision; and, when once there, they speedily began to turn out such of the garrison as were disagreeable to them, or had an inconvenient apxDctite, or were of a doubtful fidelity. These poor fellows turned into the road, had no choice but starvation; as to getting into Paris, that was impossible: a mouse could not have got into the place, so admirably were the forts guarded, without having his head taken off by a cannon-ball. Thus the three conflicting parties stood, close to each other, hating each other, " willing to wound and yet afraid to strike "—the victuals in the forts, from the pro- digious increase of the garrisons, getting smaller every day. As for Louis Philippe in his palace, in the centre of the twenty-four forts, knowing that a spark from one might set them all blazing away, and that he and his money-bags might be blown into eternity in ten minutes, you may fancy his situation was not very comfortable. But his safety lay in his treasure. Neither the Impe- rialists nor the Bourbonites were willing to relinquish the two hundred and fifty billions in gold; nor would tlie Princes of Orleans dare to fire upon that considerable sum of money, and its possessor, their revered father. How was this state of things to end ? The Emperor sent a note to his Most Christian Majesty (for they always styled each other in this manner in their communica- tions), proposing that they should turn out and decide 506 THE HISTORY OF THE the quarrel sword in hand; to which proposition Henri would have acceded, but that the priests, his ghostly counsellors, threatened to excommunicate him should he do so. Hence this simple way of settling the dispute was impossible. The presence of the holy fathers caused considerable annoyance in the forts. Especially the poor English, as Protestants, were subject to much petty persecution, to the no small anger of Jenkins, their commander. And it must be confessed that these intrepid Footmen were not so amenable to discipline as they might have been. Re- membering the usages of merry England, they clubbed together, and swore they would have four meals of meat a day, wax-candles in the casemates, and their porter. These demands were laughed at: the priests even called upon them to fast on Fridays; on which a general mu- tiny broke out in the regiment ; and they would have had a fourth standard raised before Paris— viz. that of Eng- land—but the garrison proving too strong for them, they NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 507 were compelled to lay down their sticks ; and, in consid- eration of past services, were permitted to leave the forts. 'Twas well for them! as you shall hear. The Prince of Ballybunion and the Irish force were quartered in the fort which, in compliment to them, was called Fort Potato, and where they made themselves as comfortable as circumstances would admit. The Princes had as much brandy as they liked, and passed their time on the ramparts playing at dice, or pitch-and-toss (with the halfpenny that one of them somehow had) for vast sums of money, for which they gave their notes-of-hand. The warriors of their legion would stand round de- lighted; and it was, " Musha, Master Dan, but that's a good throw!" "Good luck to you, Misther Pat, and throw thirteen this time ! " and so forth. But this sort of inaction could not last long. They had heard of the treasures amassed in the palace of the Tuileries: they sighed when they thought of the lack of bullion in their green and beautiful country. They panted for war! They formed their plan. CHAPTER VIII THE BATTLE OF THE FORTS On the morning of the 26th October, 1884, as liis Majesty Louis Philippe was at breakfast reading the Debuts newspaper, and wisliing that wluit the journal said about " Cholera Morbus in the Camp of the Pre- tender Henri,"—" Chicken-pox raging in the Forts of the Traitor Bonaparte,"— might be true, what was liis 508 THE HISTORY OF THE surprise to hear the report of a gun ; and at the same in- stant—whizz! came an eighty-four-pound ball through the window and took off the head of the faithful Mon- sieur de Montalivet, who was coming in with a plate of muffins. "Three francs for the window," said the monarch; '' and the muffins of course spoiled! " and he sat down to breakfast very peevishly. Ah, King Louis PhiHppe, that shot cost thee more than a window-pane— more than a plate of muffins— it cost thee a fair kingdom and fifty millions of tax-payers. The shot had been fired from Fort Potato. " Gra- cious heavens! " said the commander of the place to the Irish Prince, in a fury, " What has your Highness done? " " Faix," replied the other, " Donegal and I saw a sparrow on the Tuileries, and we thought we'd have a shot at it, that's all." " Hurroo! look out for squalls," here cried the intrepid Hibernian; for at this moment one of Paixhans' shells fell into the counterscarp of the demilune on which they were standing, and sent a rave- lin and a couple of embrasures flying about their ears. Fort T^^enty-three, which held out for Louis Phi- lippe, seeing Fort Twenty-four, or Potato, open a fire on NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 509 the Tuileries, instantly replied by its guns, with which it blazed away at the Bourbonite fort. On seeing this, Fort Twenty-two, occupied by the Imperialists, be- gan pummelling Twenty-three; Twenty -one began at Twenty-two; and in a quarter of an hour the whole of this vast line of fortification was in a blaze of flame, flashing, roaring, cannonading, rocketing, bombing, in the most tremendous manner. The world has never per- haps, before or since, heard such an uproar. Fancy twenty-four thousand guns thundering at each other. Fancy the sky red with the fires of hundreds of thou- sands of blazing, brazen meteors ; the air thick with im- penetrable smoke— the universe almost in a flame! for the noise of the cannonading was heard on the peaks of the Andes, and broke three windows in the English fac- tory at Canton. Boom, boom, boom! for three days in- cessantly the gigantic— I may say, Cyclopean battle went on: boom, boom, boom, bong! The air was thick with cannon-balls: they hurtled, they jostled each other in the heavens, and fell whizzing, whirling, crashing, back into the very forts from which they came. Boom, boom, boom, bong — brrwrrwrrr! On the second day a band might have been seen (had the smoke permitted it) assembling at the sally-port of Fort Potato, and have been heard (if the tremendous clang of the cannonading had allowed it) giving myste- rious signs and countersigns. " Tom," was the word whispered, " Steele " was the sibilated response. (It is astonishing how, in the roar of elements, the human whis- per hisses above all!) It was the Irish Brigade assem- bling. " Now or never, boys! " said their leaders; and sticking their doodeens into their mouths, they dropped stealthily into the trenches, heedless of the broken glass 510 THE HISTORY OF THE and sword-blades; rose from those trenches; formed in silent order; and marched to Paris. They knew they could arrive there unobserved— nobody, indeed, re- marked their absence. The frivolous Parisians were, in the meanwhile, amus- ing themselves at their theatres and cafes as usual; and a new piece, in which Arnal performed, was the universal talk of the foyers: while a new feuilleton by Monsieur Eugene Sue, kept the attention of the reader so fasci- nated to the journal, that they did not care in the least for the vacarme without the walls. CHAPTER IX LOUIS XVII. The tremendous cannonading, however, had a singular eifect upon the inhabitants of the great public hospital of Charenton, in which it may be remembered Louis NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 511 XVII. had been, as in mockery, confined. His majesty of demeanour, his calm deportment, the reasonableness of his 23retensions, had not failed to strike with awe and respect his four thousand comrades of captivit}'. The Emperor of China, the Princess of the jNIoon, Julius Caesar, Saint Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, the Pope of Rome, the Cacique of JNIexico, and several sin- gular and illustrious personages who happened to be confined there, all held a council with Louis XVII. ; and all agreed that now or never was the time to support his legitimate pretensions to the Crown of France. As the cannons roared around them, they howled with furious delight in response. They took counsel together: Doc- tor Pinel and the infamous jailors, who, under the name of keepers, held them in horrible captivity, were pounced upon and overcome in a twinkling. The strait-waist- coats were taken off from the wretched captives lan- guishing in the dungeons; the guardians were invested in these shameful garments, and with triumphant laugh- ter plunged under the Douches. The gates of the prison were flung open, and they marched forth in the blackness of the storm! r^ rfj^ 'I* *I* On the third day, the cannonading was observed to de- crease; only a gun went off fitfully now and tlien. ^r "^t "Tf^ ^r 1^ On the fourth day, the Parisians said to one another, "Tiens! ils sont fatigues, les canonniers des forts!" — and why? Because there was no more powder?— Ay, truly, there was no more powder. There was no more powder, no more guns, no more gunners, no more forts, no more notliing. The forts had blown each other up. The battle-roar ceased. The bat- 512 THE HISTORY OF THE tie-clouds rolled off. The silver moon, the twinkling stars, looked blandly down from the serene azure, — and all was peace— stillness— the stillness of death. Holy, holy silence! Yes: the battle of Paris was over. And where were the combatants? All gone — not one left! — And where was Louis Philippe? The venerable Prince was a cap- tive in the Tuileries; the Irish Brigade was encamped around it: they had reached the palace a little too late; it was already occupied by the partisans of his Majesty Louis XVII. That respectable monarch and his followers better knew the way to the Tuileries than the ignorant sons of Erin. They burst through the feeble barriers of the guards ; they rushed triumphant into the kingly halls of the palace; they seated the seventeenth Louis on the throne of his ancestors; and the Parisians read in the Journal des Dehats, of the fifth of November, an impor- tant article, which proclaimed that the civil war was concluded : — " The troubles which distracted the greatest empire in the world are at an end. Europe, which marked with sorrow the disturbances which agitated the bosom of the Queen of Nations, the great leader of Civilisation, may now rest in peace. That monarch whom we have long been sighing for; whose image has lain hidden, and yet oh ! how passionately worshipped, in every French heart, is with us once more. Blessings be on him; blessings — a thousand blessings upon the happy country which is at length restored to his beneficent, his legitimate, his reasonable sway! " His Most Christian Majesty Louis XVII. yesterday arrived at his palace of the Tuileries, accompanied by NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 513 his august allies. His Royal Highness the Duke of Or- leans has resigned his post as Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, and will return speedily to take up his abode at the Palais Royal. It is a great mercy that the children of his Royal Highness, who happened to be in the late forts round Paris, (before the bombardment which has so happily ended in their destruction,) had returned to their father before the commencement of the cannon- ading. They will continue, as heretofore, to be the most loyal supporters of order and the throne. " None can read without tears in their eyes our august monarch's proclamation. " ' Louis, by &c. — " ' My children! After nine hundred and ninety-nine years of captivity, I am restored to you. The cycle of events predicted by the ancient Magi, and the planetary convolutions mentioned in the lost Sibylline books, have fulfilled their respective idiosyncrasies, and ended (as always in the depths of my dungeons I confidently ex- pected) in the triumph of the good Angel, and the utter discomfiture of the abominable Blue Dragon. " ' When the bombarding began, and the powers of darkness commenced their hellish gunpowder evolutions, I was close by — in my palace of Charenton, three hun- dred and thirty-three thousand miles off, in the ring of Saturn — I witnessed your misery. INIy heart was af- fected by it, and I said, " Is the multij)lication-table a fiction? are the signs of the Zodiac mere astronomers' prattle?" " ' I clapped chains, shrieking and darkness, on my physician. Dr. Pinel. The keepers I sliall cause to be roasted alive. I summoned my allies round a])out me. The high contracting Powers came to my bidding: mon- 514 THE HISTORY OF THE archs from all parts of the earth; sovereigns from the Moon and other illumined orbits; the white necroman- cers, and the pale imprisoned genii. I whispered the mystic sign, and the doors flew open. We entered Paris in triumph, by the Charenton bridge. Our luggage was not examined at the Octroi. The bottle-green ones were scared at our shouts, and retreated, howhng: they knew us, and trembled. i( ( My faithful Peers and Deputies will rally around me. I have a friend in Turkey— the Grand Vizier of the NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION 515 Mussulmans : he was a Protestant once — Lord Brougham by name. I have sent to him to legislate for us: he is wise in the law, and astrology, and all sciences ; he shall aid my jNIinisters in their councils. I have written to him by the post. There shall be no more infamous mad- houses in France, where poor souls shiver in strait- waist- coats. " ' I recognized Louis Philippe, my good cousin. He was in his counting-house, counting out his money, as the old prophecy warned me. He gave me up the keys of his gold ; I shall know well how to use it. Taught by adversity, I am not a spendthrift, neither am I a miser. I will endow the land with noble institutions instead of diabolical forts. I will have no more cannon founded. They are a curse, and shall be melted— the iron ones into railroads ; the bronze ones into statues of beautiful saints, angels, and wise men ; the copper ones into money, to be distributed among my poor. I was poor once, and I love them. " ' There shall be no more poverty; no more wars; no more avarice; no more passports; no more custom- houses ; no more lying : no more physic. " ' My Chambers will put the seal to these reforms. I will it. I am the king. (Signed) 'Louis.'" " Some alarm was created yesterday by the arrival of a body of the English Foot-Guard under the Duke of Jenkins ; they were at first about to sack the city, but on hearing that the banner of the lilies was once more raised in France, the Duke hastened to the Tuileries, and of- fered his allegiance to his Majesty. It was accepted: 516 THE NEXT FRENCH REVOLUTION and the Plush Guard has been estabhshed in place of the Swiss, who waited on former sovereigns." " The Irish Brigade quartered in the Tuileries are to enter our service. Their commander states that they took every one of the forts round Paris, and having blown them up, were proceeding to release Louis XVII., when they found that august monarch, happily, free. News of their glorious victory has been conveyed to Dublin, to his Majesty the King of the Irish. It will be a new laurel to add to his green crown! " And thus have we brought to a conclusion our history of the great French Revolution of 1884. It records the actions of great and various characters; the deeds of various valour; it narrates wonderful reverses of for- tune; it affords the moralist scope for his philosophy; perhaps it gives amusement to the merely idle reader. Nor must the latter imagine, because there is not a pre- cise moral affixed to the story, that its tendency is otherwise than good. He is a poor reader, for whom his author is obliged to supply a moral application. It is well in spelling-books and for children ; it is needless for the reflecting spirit. The drama of Punch himself is not moral : but that drama has had audiences all over the world. Happy he, who in our dark times can cause a smile ! Let us laugh then, and gladden in the sunshine, though it be but as the ray upon the pool, that flickers only over the cold black depths below ! COX'S DIARY COX'S DIARY JANUARY— THE ANNOUNCEMENT OX the 1st of January, 1838, I was the master of a lovely shop in the neighbourhood of Oxford JNIar- ket; of a wife, Mrs. Cox; of a business, both in the shaving and cutting line, established three-and-thirty years ; of a girl and boy respectively of the ages of eigh- teen and thirteen; of a three-windowed front, both to my first and second pair ; of a young foreman, my pres- ent partner, Mr. Orlando Crump; and of that celebrated 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 shav- ing business brought me in a pretty genteel income. T had my girl, Jemimarann, at Hackney, to school; my dear boy, Tuggeridge, plaited her 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, would one day be joined together in Ilym- ing, and, conjointly with my son Tug, carry on the busi- ness of hairdressers when their father was either dead or a gentleman: for a gentleman me and i\Irs. C. deter- mined I should be. Jemima was, you see, a lady herself, and of very high 51!) 520 COX'S DIARY connections: though her own family had met with crosses, and was rather low. Mr. Tuggeridge, her fa- ther, kept the famous tripe-shop 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 shil- ling. 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 ar- rived to be the head of a great house in India, and was worth millions, we were told. Three years after Jemimarann's birth (and two after the death of my lamented father-in-law), Tuggeridge (head of the great house of Budgurow and 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 no- body, let me have you to know, ) a desperate quarrel took place between them ; and from that day to the daj'^ of his death, he never set eyes on her. All that he would con- descend 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 ending of our expectations, for Jemmy had bragged not a little; however, we did not care, for the connection was always a good one, and we served Mr. THE AXNOUNCEMEXT 521 Hock, the valet; Mr. Bar, the coachman; and Mrs. Breadbasket, the housekeeper, wilHngly enough. I used to powder the footman, too, on great days, but never in my Hf e saw old Tuggeridge, except once : when he said, " Oh, the barber! " tossed up his nose, and passed on. One day— one famous day last January — all our jNIarket was thrown into a high state of excitement by the appearance of no less than three vehicles at our es- tablishment. As me, Jemmy, my daughter, Tug, and Orlando, were sitting in the back-parlour over our din- ner (it being Christmas-time, INIr. Crump had treated the ladies to a bottle of port, and was longing that there should be a mistletoe-bough : at which proposal my little Jemimarann 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, Pa, here's uncle Tuggeridge's house- keeper in a cab! " And Mrs. Breadbasket it was, sure enough— Mrs. Breadbasket in deep mourning, who made her way, bow- ing and looking very sad, into the back shop. My wife, who respected ISIrs. B. more than anything else in the world, set her a chair, offered her a glass of wine, and vowed it was very kind of her to come. " La, mem," says Mrs. 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? " cried Jemimarann, bursting out cry- ing (as little girls will about anything or notliing) ; 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! liere's Mr. Bar, uncle Tug's coachman ! " 522 COX'S DIARY It was Mr. Bar. When she saw him, INIrs. Bread- basket 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. ]\Ir. 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 spread desolation in your family's bosoms? I can feel for your loss, sir — I can feel for your loss." I said so out of politeness, because I served the family, 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, you here, Mr. Bar! " says he. " Yes, I am, sir; and haven't I a right, sir? " " A mighty wet day, sir," says I to Mr. Hock— step- ping up and making my bow. "A sad circumstance too, sir ! And is it a turn of the tongs that you want to-day, sir? Ho, there, Mr. Crump! " " 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 rammed the Adver- tiser into Mr. Hock's hands, and just popped my shav- THE ANNOUNCEMENT 523 ing-brush into IVIr. 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 here! " says the gentleman. I could not help smiling, for it seemed that everybody was to begin by saying, "What, you 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. Tug- geridge, of Portland Place, is dead, and your lady is heiress, in consequence, to one of the handsomest prop- erties in the kingdom." At this I started, and might have sunk to the ground, but for my hold of Mr. Bar's nose ; Orlando seemed pu- trified to stone, with his irons fixed to Mr. Hock's head ; our respective patients gave a wince out:— Mrs. C, Je- mimarann, and Tug, rushed from the back shop, and we formed a splendid tableau such as the great Cruikshank might have depicted. "And Mr. John Tuggeridge, sir? " says I. " Why— bee, bee, bee! " says Mr. Sharpus. " Surely you know that he was only the— hee, bee, bee!— the nat- ural son! " You now can understand why the servants from Port- land Place had been so eager to come to us. One of the housemaids heard Mr. Sharpus say there was no will, and that my wife was heir to the property, and not Mr. John Tuggeridge : this she told in the housekeeper's room ; and off, as soon as they heard it, the whole party set, in order to be the first to bear the news. 524 COX'S DIARY We kept them, every one, in their old places; for, though my wife would have sent them about their busi- ness, my dear Jemimarann just hinted, " Mamma, you know they have been used to great houses, and we have not; had we not better keep them for a little? " — kieep them, then, we did, to show us how to be gentlefolks. I handed over the business to Mr. Crump without a single farthing of premium, though Jemmy would have made me take four hundred pounds for it ; but this I was above: Crump had served me faithfully, and have the shop he should. FEBRUARY— FIRST ROUT We were speedily installed in our fine house : but what's a house without friends? Jemmy made me cut all my old acquaintances in the Market, and I was a solitary being; when, luckily, an old acquaintance of ours. Cap- tain 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, Orlando (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 after- wards, that he was always fond of her. Mr. Crump, poor fellow, was not very much pleased by our good fortune, though he did all he could to try FIRST ROUT 525 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 Crump. The Captain was now all in all with us. " You see, sir," our Jemmy 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 such prospects, they ought surely to have the first society of England." To this Tagrag agreed, and promised to bring us ac- quainted 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 kingdom, the Reverend Doctor Pigney's, at Rich- mond. Well, the horses, the suppers, the opera-box, the para- graphs 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 pace 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 tlie family, and brought their wives and daughters to see dear Mrs. Coxe and her charming girl; and when, about the first week in 526 COX'S DIARY February, we announced 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 Dunboozle, an Irish peer, and his seven sons, the Honourable Messieurs Trumper (two only to dinner) ; there was Count Mace, the celebrated French nobleman, and his Excellency Baron von Punter from Baden; there was Lady Blanche Bluenose, the eminent literati, author of " The Dis- trusted," " The Distorted," " The Disgusted," " The Disreputable One," and other poems; there was the Dowager Lady Max and her daughter, the Honourable Miss Adelaide Blueruin; Sir Charles Codshead, from the City; and Field-Marshal Sir Gorman O'Gallagher, K.A., K.B., K.C., K.W., K.X., in the service of the Republic of Guatemala : my friend Tagrag and his fash- ionable acquaintance, little Tom Tufthunt, made up the party. And when the doors were flung open, and Mr. Hock, in black, with a white napkin, three 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 white 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 invited many of the principal nobility that our metropo- lis had produced. When I mention, among the company to tea, her Grace the Duchess of Zero, her son the Mar- quis of Fitzurse, and the Ladies North Pole her daugh- ters ; when I say that there were yet others, whose names may be found in the Blue Book, but shan't, out of FIRST ROUT 527 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 compan3^ 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 puUj^ bashymall, and other French dishes : and, for the frisk}^ sweet wine, with tin tops to the bottles, called Champang, I must say that me and Mrs. Coxe-Tug- geridge Coxe drank a very good share of it (but the Claret and Jonnysberger, being sour, we did not much relish) . However, the feed, as I say, went off verj^ 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 with Champang, until, bless her! her dear nose became 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; squeedle-eedle-eedle, Mr. Wippert's fiddlers began to strike up ; and, about half -past eleven, me and the gents thought it high time to make our appearance. I felt a little squeamish at the thought of meeting a couple of hundred great people; but Count Mace and Sir Gorman O'Gallagher taking each an arm, we reached, at last, the drawing-room. The young ones in company were dancing, and the Duchess and the great ladies were all seated, talking to themselves very stately, and working away at the ices and macaroons. I looked out for my pretty Jemima- 528 COX'S DIARY rann amongst the dancers, and saw her tearing round the room along with Baron Punter, in what they call a gallypard ; 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 were. " 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 we would come and sit down among the old ones. You and I, ma'am, I think, are too stiff to dance." " Sir! " says her Grace. " Ma'am," says I, " don't you know me? My name's Cox. 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?— 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 my mother," howled Lady Aurorer: and both came up and flung themselves into her arms. " Wawt's the raw? " said Lord Fitzurse, sauntering up quite stately. " Protect me from the insults of this man," says her A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS 529 Grace. " Where's Tufthunt? he promised that not a soul in this house should speak to me." " My dear Duchess," said Tufthunt, very meek. "Don't Duchess mCj, sir. Did 3^ou not promise they should not speak; and hasn't that horrid tipsy wretch offered to embrace me? Didn't his monstrous wife sicken me with her odious familiarities ? Call my people, Tufthunt! Follow me, my children! " "And my carriage," "And mine!" "And mine!" shouted twenty more voices. And down they all trooped to the hall: Lady Blanche Bluenose and Lady Max among the very first; leaving only the Field-INIarshal and one or two men, who roared with laughter ready to split.. " Oh, Sam," said my wife, sobbing, " why would you take me back to them? they had sent me away before! I • only asked the Duchess whether 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 would ! 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 sug- gestion, and went down to Tuggeridgeville. If we liad a difficulty to find friends in town, here there was none: for the whole county came about us, ate our dinners and 530 COX'S DIARY suppers, danced at our balls— ay, and spoke to us too. We were great people in fact : I a regular country gen- tleman; 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 hounds would take place at Squashtail Common, just outside my lodge-gates. I didn't know what a meet was ; and me and Mrs. C. 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 de- lightful animal of his own; which, being desperately pressed for money, he would 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 Squash- tail Common; Mrs. C. turned out in her barouche to see us throw oif ; and, being 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! " A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS 531 " 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. 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 savs, " 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, yow, yow, yow! 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, belter 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 black- guard 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 })lace 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 gently about the fiehl until the dogs found; and I managed to stick on very well; but directly the tow-rowing ])cgan, off went Trumpeter like a thunderbolt, and I found myself playing among the 532 COX'S DIARY 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; and on I went galloping for the dear life. How I kept on is a wonder; but I squeezed my knees in very tight, and shoved 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 trusted 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 poor 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 chap at Croydon very well known as the " Spicy Dustman," who, when he could get no horse to ride to the hounds, turned regularly out on his don- key ; and on this occasion made one of us. He generally managed to keep up with the dogs by trotting quietly though 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 Cutshins Common; across which, sure enough, came the whole hunt. There's a small hedge and a remarkably fine ditch here: some of the leading chaps 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. A DAY WITH THE SURREY HOUNDS 533 Hooid! if ever you did try a leap! Out go your legs, out fling your arms, off goes your hat; and the next thing you feel— that is, I 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 flounder- ing 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 em- ployed in disengaging Trumpeter, whom he got out of the ditch, trembling and as quiet as possible. " Let's down," says I. " Presently," says he; and taking off his coat, he begins whistling and swishing down Trum- peter'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! FIl give your 'oss a hairing arter them 'ounds; and j^ou— 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 Apollor Relvidearis what I used to dress and titivate up for my shop window when I was 534 COX'S DIARY 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 mount the dustman's don- key (which 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 party 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 poor 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, and passed me; a man jumped down, and taking oiF a fantail hat, came up, very gravely, to help me down. " Squire," says he, " how came you by that there hani- mal? Jist git down, will you, and give it to its howner? " " Rascal! " savs I, " didn't you ride off on mv horse? " "Was there ever sich ingratitude?" says the Spicy. " I found this year 'oss in a pond, I saves him from drowning, I brings him back to his master, and he calls me a rascal! " The grooms, the gents, the ladies in the balcony, my own servants, all set up a roar at this; and so would I, only I was so deucedlv ashamed, as not to be able to laugh just then. And so my first day's hunting ended. Tagrag and the rest declared I showed great pluck, and wanted me to try again; but " Xo," says I, " I have been." THE FINISHING TOUCH 535 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 acquaintance used to meet twice a week for a game, and a snug pipe and beer, I was 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 think 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 rubbers 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 no great service to me. One day I entered the billiard-room where these three gentlemen 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 all to yourzelf, hey? " said the Baron. " You sail not have a single fezare of him, begar," said the Count: " ve vill blow you, M. de Taguerague; parole d'honneur, ve vill." " What's all this, gents," says I, stepping in, " about birds and feathers? " " Oh," says Tagrag, " we were talking about — about 536 COX'S DIARY — pigeon-shooting; the Count here says he will blow a bird all to pieces 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 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-up regularly ; ay, and wrote one or two trifles in that celebrated publication (one of my papers, which Tagrag subscribed for me, Philo-pes- titi^eamicus, on the proper sauce for teal and widgeon — and the other, signed Scru-tatos, on the best means 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 educa- tion having been rayther neglected, (for I was taken from my studies and set, as is the custom in our trade, to practise on a sheep's head at the 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 correspon- THE FINISHING TOUCH 537 dents, I read, one day last April, among the notices, as follows: — Automodon.' 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 pawn, gives check to his adversary's Queen, there is no reason why B's Queen should not take A's pawn, if B be so inclined. " ' F. L. S.' We have repeatedly answered the ques- tion about Madame Vestris : her maiden name was Bar- tolozzi, and she married the son of Charles ^lathews, the celebrated comedian. Fair Play.' The best amateur billiard and ecarte 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 sui3erior. Verbum sap. " ' Scipio Americanus ' is a blockhead." I read this out to the Count and Tagrag, and botji of them wondered how the Editor of that tremendous Flare-up should get such information; and both agreed that the Baron, who still piqued himself absurdly on his play, would be vastly annoyed by seeing me preferred thus to himself. We read him the paragraph, and pre- ciously angry he was. " Id is," he cried, " the tables " (or " de dabels," as he called them) , — " de horrid dabels; gom viz me to London, and dry a slate-table, and I vill beat you." We all roared at this; and tlie end of the dis- pute was, that, just to satisfy the fellow, I agreed to play his Excellency at slate-tables, or any tables he chose. 538 COX'S DIARY " Gut," says he, " gut; I lif, you know, at Abednego'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 drink- ing 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 persua- sion, and several foreign noblemen, dirty, snuffy, and hairy, as them foreigners are. " Is dish INIisther Coxsh? blesh my hart, it is a honer to see you; I 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 Himmel, 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 crowns to four," says the Baron.—" Done," says I. And, in the twink- ling 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 THE FINISHING TOUCH 539 Count! " Va ton jours, 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. " Two 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. " 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? " " 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?— in two minutes he somehow made the game ! ******* Oh, what a figure I cut when my dear Jemmy heard of this afterwards! In vain I swore it was guineas: the Count and the Baron swore to ponies; and when I re- fused, they both said their honour was concerned, 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 mc, he had been a very heavy loser by the night; and brouglit me the word of honour of Abednego, his .fewish friend, and 540 COX'S DIARY the foreign noblemen, that ponies had been betted;— why, I paid them one thousand pounds sterhng 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 much about music,— bless her! as I do about Sanscrit, algebra, or any other foreign lan- guage, 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 hundred a year! Here, Tuesdays and Saturdays, we used regularly to take our places. Jemmy and Jemi- marann sitting in front ; me, behind : but as my dear wife used to wear a large f antail gauze hat with ostrich feath- ers, birds-of -paradise, artificial flowers, and tags of mus- hn 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 course 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 the " Puritanny," and once actually saw Madame Greasi's crown and head-dress in "Annybalony." What a place that Opera is, to be sure! and what en- joyments 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 deal of A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA 541 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 unless 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 off punctually at eight, and you know it's the fashion to be always present at the very first bar of the aperture." And so off we are obliged to budge, to be miserable for five hours, 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 should sing in Italian, I can't con- ceive ; or why they should do nothing but sing. Bless us ! how I used 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 pitch- forks 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 first night when she stopped to see it; and when IMadamsalls Fanny and Theresa Hustler came forward, along with a gentleman, to dance, you should have seen how Jemmy stared, and our girl blushed, when Madamsall Fanny, coming for- 542 COX'S DIARY ward, stood on the tips of only five of her toes, and rais- ing up the other five, and the foot belonging to them, al- most to her shoulder, twirled round, and round, and round, like a teetotum, for a couple 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 suppose, were rather angry at such an exhibition, threw bunches of flowers at her ; and what do you think she did ? Why, hang me, if she did not come forward, as though nothing had hap- pened, gather up the things they had thrown at her, smile, press them to her heart, and begin whirling round again, faster than ever. Talk about coolness, I 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 threw that orange-peel and all those things at her, and that the peo- ple waved to her to get off." 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 dancers in the world ; and we throw myrtle, gera- niums, and lilies and roses at them, in token of our im- mense admiration ! " " Well, I never! " said my wife; and poor Jemimar- A NEW DROP-SCENE AT THE OPERA 543 ann slunk behind the curtain, and looked as red as it almost. After the one had done, the next begun; but when, all of a sudden, a somebody 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 than ever ! " That's Anatole," sa5^s one of the gentlemen. " Anna who? " says my wife; and she might well be mistaken: for this person had a hat and feathers, a bare neck and arms, great 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! Munseer. 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 shouted out in the crush-room, and so would stop till the end of everything; and, law bless yo\x\ in three weeks from that time, she could look at the ballet 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 5U COX'S DIARY of young and old gents of the fashion crowding round and staring at the actresses practising their steps. Fancy- yellow snuffy foreigners, chattering always, and smell- ing fearfully 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, with knock-knees, and dirty flesh-coloured cotton stockings, and dabs of brick- dust on their wrinkled old chops, and tow-wigs (such wigs!) for the bald ones, and great tin spears in their hands mayhap, or else shepherds' crooks, and fusty gar- lands 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, paste- board Cupids, dragons, and such like. Such dirt, dark- ness, crowd, confusion and gabble of all conceivable languages was never known ! If you could but have seen Munseer Anatole I Instead of looking twenty he looked a thousand. The old man's wig was off, and a barber was giving it a touch with the tongs; Munseer was taking snuff himself, and a boy was standing by with a pint of beer from the public- house at the corner of Charles Street. 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 scuffle off to the sides (for we always stay till the very last moment), I was in the STRIKING A BALANCE 545 middle of the stage, making myself very affable to the fair figgerantys which was spinning and twirling about me, and asking them if they wasn't cold, and such like politeness, 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. Luck- ily, I was stopped by a piece of machinery, consisting of a heap of green blankets and a young lady coming up as Venus rising from the sea. If I had not fallen so soft, I don't know what might have 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 Honourable the Earl of Kilblazes, of Kilmacrasy Castle, county Kildare, and his mother, the Dowager Countess. Lady Kilblazes had a daughter. Lady Juliana INIatilda ]Mac Turk, of the exact age of our dear Jemimarann; and a son, the Honourable Arthur Wellington Anglesea Blucher Bulow Mac Turk, only ten months older than our boy Tug. My darling Jemmy is a woman of spirit, and, as be- come 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 IMinister, and Prince of Wales's great friend, the Earl of Portansherry) thought fit to reject. I don't wonder at my Jemmy growing so angry with her, and determining, in every way, to put her ladyship down. Tlie Kilblazes' estate is not so large as the Tug- 54^6 COX'S DIARY geridge property by two thousand a year at least; and so my wife, when 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 have out her own carriage-and-f our. Well, our box was next to theirs at the Opera; only twice as big. Whatever masters went to Lady Juliana, came to my Jemimarann ; and what do you think Jemmy did? she got her celebrated governess, Madame de Flic- flac, away from the Countess, by offering a double salary. It was quite a treasure, they said, to have Madame Flic- flac: she had been (to support her father, the Count, when he emigrated) a French dancer at the Italian Opera. French dancing, 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 Arthur 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 I found out the dear soul's reason ; for, one day, speaking about the school to a mutual acquaintance of ours and the Kil- blazes, 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 tip-top 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 STRIKING A BALANCE 547 bill, (the snopsis, I think, Coddler called it,) after the account 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 dress- ing-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 provided at the rate of fifteen guineas per quarter. It is earnestly requested that no young nobleman (or gentleman) be allowed to smoke. In a place devoted to the cultivation of polite literature, such an ignoble en- joyment were profane. " Clement Coddler, M.A., " Chaplain and late tutor to his Grace the " Duke of Buckminster. " Mount Parnassus, Richmond, Surrey." To this establishment our Tug was sent. " Recollect, my dear," said his mamma, " that you are a Tuggeridge by birth, and that I expect you to beat all the boys in the school; especially that Wellington Mac Turk, wlio, though he is a lord's son, is nothing to you, who are the heir of Tuggeridgeville." 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 people: when he came to be a gentleman, lie had to learn Latin and Greek, and had a deal of lost time to make up for, on going to school. 548 COX'S DIARY However, we had no fear ; for the Reverend INIr. Cod- dler used to send monthly accounts of his pupil's prog- ress, 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 tres bien. Latin optime. And SO on:— he possessed all the virtues, and wrote to us every month for money. My dear Jemmy and I deter- mined 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 bed-rooms and eating-rooms (the dromitaries and re- fractories he called them) , which were all as comfortable as comfortable might be. " It is a hoHday to-day," said Mr. Coddler; and a holiday it seemed to be. In the dining-room were half-a-dozen young gentlemen play- ing at cards ("All tip-top nobility," observed Mr. Cod- dler) ;— in the bed-rooms there was only one gent: he was lying on his bed, reading novels and smoking cigars. "Extraordinary genius!" whispered Coddler. "Hon- ourable Tom Fitz-Warter, cousin of Lord Byron's; smokes all day ; and has written the sweetest poems you can imagine. Genius, my dear madam, you know- genius must have its way." " Well, iqwn 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. " INIr. Tuggeridge Coxe couldnt be stupid if he tried" Just then up comes Lord Claude Lollypop, third son STRIKIXG A BALAXCE 549 of the ^larquis of Allycompane. We were introduced instantly: " Lord Claude Lollypop, ]Mr. and jNIrs. 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 the grub-shop," said nw lord, " where we young gentlemen wot has 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 jNIr. 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. — Well, Hicks, how's your mother? what's the row now? " " I believe, my lord," said the usher, very meekly, " there is a pu- gilistic encounter somewhere on the premises— the Hon- ourable Mr. Mac—" "Oh! come along," said Lord Lollypop, "come along: tJiis way, ma'am! Gk) 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 went running across the green. " Who is it, Petitoes?" screams mv lord. " Turk and the barber," pipes Petitoes, and runs to the pastrycook's like mad. " Turk and the ba— ," laughs out my lord, looking at us. "Hurra! this way, ma'am!" And turning round a corner, he opened a door into a court-yard, where a 550 COX'S DIARY number of boys were collected, and a great noise of shrill voices might be heard. " Go it, Turk! " says one. " Go it, barber! " says another. '" Punch hith life out! " roars another, whose voice was just cracked, and his clothes half a yard too short for him! Fancy our horror when, on the crowd making way, we saw Tug pummelling away at the Honourable Master Mac Turk! My dear Jemmy, who don't understand such things, pounced upon the two at once, and, with one hand tearing away Tug, sent him spinning back into the arms of his seconds, while, with the other, she clawed hold of Master Mac Turk's red hair, and, as soon as she got her second hand free, banged it about his face and ears like a good one. " You nasty — wicked— quarrelsome— aristocratic " (each word was a bang) —" aristocratic— oh! oh! oh!" — Here the words stopped; for what with the agitation, maternal solicitude, and a dreadful kick on the shins which, I am ashamed to say. Master Mac Turk adminis- tered, my dear Jemmy could bear it no longer, and sunk fainting away in my arms. JULY— DOWN AT BEULAH Although there was a regular cut between the next- door people and us, yet Tug and the Honourable Mas- ter Mac Turk kept up their acquaintance over the back-garden wall, and in the stables, where they were fighting, making friends, and playing tricks from morn- ing to night, during the holidays. Indeed, it was from young Mac that we first heard of Madame de Flicflac, DOWN AT BEULAH 551 of whom my Jemmy robbed Ladj' Kilblazes, as I before have related. When our friend the Baron first saw Madame, a very tender greeting passed between them; for they had, as it appeared, been old friends abroad. " Sapristie," said the Baron, in his lingo, " que fais-tu ici, Amenaide?" " Et toi, mon pauvre Chicot," says she, " est-ce qu'on t'a mis a la retraite? II parait que tu n'est plus General 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 pretty knowledge of the language by this time. " I don't know what ' Sapristie ' 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? " " Oui, 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, Amenaide? " " 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 Wash- erwoman's-Orphans' Home; " Lady de Sudley was the great projector of it; and the manager and chaplain. 552 COX'S DIARY 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 hun- dred pounds from the six subscribed to the Charity : and Lady de Sudley thought a fete at Beulah Spa, with the aid of some of the foreign princes who were in town last year, might bring a little more money into its treas- ury. 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 established seven years: and the good which it has effected is, it may be confidently stated, incalculable. Ninety-eight orphan children of Washerwomen have been lodged within its walls. One hundred and two British Washerwomen have been relieved when in the last state 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 gov- ernors 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 lamentable to think, that the Patronesses of the Society have been compelled to reject the applications 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 we appeal. Is there one of you that will not re- DOWN AT BEULAH 553 spond to the cry in behalf of these desenang members of our sex? " 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 washer- woman's FRIEND." Her Highness the Princess of Schloppenzollern- schwigmaringen, the Duke of Sacks-Tubbingen, His Excellency Baron Strumpff, His Excellency Lootf- Allee-Koolee-Bismillah-]Mohamed-Rujsheed-Allah, the Persian ambassador, Prince Futtee-Jaw, Envoy from the King of Oude, His Excellency Don Alonzo di Ca- chachero-y-Fandango-y-Castanete, the Spanish Ambas- sador, Count Ravioli, from Milan, the Envoy of the Republic of Topinambo, and a host of other fashion- ables, promised to honour the festival: and their names made a famous show in the bills. Besides these, we had the celebrated band of ;Moscowmusiks, the seventy- seven Transylvanian trumpeters, and the famous Bohe- mian Minnesingers ; with all the leading artists of Lon- don, 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 off on that day. A beautiful tent was erected, in which the Ladies- Patronesses were to meet: it was hung round with spe- cimens 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-Patronesses. Well, Jemmy and my daughter, Madame de Flicfiac, myself, the Count, 35aron Punter, Tug, and Tagrag, 554> COX'S DIARY all went down in the chariot and barouche-and-four, quite eclipsing poor 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 went strolling through the walks; Tagrag and the Count having each an arm of Jemmy; the Baron giving an arm a-piece to Madame and Jemimarann. Whilst they were walking, whom should they light upon but poor Orlando Crump, my successor in the perfumery and hair-cutting. " Orlando!" says Jemimarann, blushing as red as a label, and holding out her hand. " Jemimar!" 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 you re- member your shopboy? " "Dearest mamma, don't you recollect Orlando?" whimpers Jemimarann, whose hand he had got hold of. " Miss Tuggeridge Coxe," says Jemmy, " I'm sur- prised of you. Remember, sir, that our position is al- tered, and oblige me by no more familiarity." "Insolent fellow!" says the Baron, "vat is dis ca- naille?" " Canal yourself, Mounseer," says Orlando, now grown quite furious: he broke away, quite 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 Flicflac 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 Madame Flicflac suddenly sprung up, with an exclama- DOWN AT BEULAH 555 tion of joy, and rushed forward to a friend whom she saw pass. The Baron was left alone with Jeinimarann ; and, whether it was the champagne, or that my dear girl looked more than commonly pretty, I don't know; but Madame Fhcflac 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 Bohemian 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 ! yodle-odle-aw-o-o-o- ! " They were standing with their hands in their 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 thought; and Orlando bolted off, crying, " By heav- ens, it's her voice! " " Whose voice? " says I. " Come and see the row," says Tag. And off we went, with a considerable 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; the Baron, on the groimd, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose; and Orlando squaring at him, and calling on him to fight if he dared. My Jemmy looked at Crump very fierce. " Take that 556 COX'S DIARY feller away," says she; " he has insulted a French noble- man, 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." " T-t-tipsy! and the more shame for you, you hussy, to be oiFended 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, and then we'll cut you out, as I told you: the old bar- beress will die of spite when she hears what we are going to do. What do you think? we're going to have a tour- nament! " " What's a tournament? " says Tug, and so said his mamma when she heard the news ; and when she knew what a tournament was, I think, really, she was as angry as Mac Turk said she would be, and 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, but 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 3Iornmg Post a flaming account of " THE PASSAGE OF ARMS AT TUGGERIDGEVILLE I " The days of chivalry are not past. The fair Cas- tellane of T-gg-r-dgeville, whose splendid entertain- A TOURNAMENT 557 ments have so often been alluded to in this paper, has determined to give one, which shall exceed in splendour even the magnificence of the JNIiddle 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 horseback, and in the field at Tuggeridgeville, where he, Tagrag, and a number of our friends practised: he was the very best tilter present; he vaulted over his horse, and played such wonderful antics, as never were done except at Ducrow's. And now— oh that I had twenty pages, instead of this short chapter, to describe the wonders of the day!— Twenty-four knights came from Ashley's at two guineas a head. We were in hopes to have had ^liss W(K)ll'()r(l in the character of Joan of Arc, but that I.ady did not appear. We had a tent for the challengers, at each side of which hung what they called escoacUngs, (Hke hatch- ments, which they put up when people die,) and under- neath sat their pages, holding tlieir helmets for the tournament. Tagrag was in brass-armour (my City connections got liim that famous suit) ; his Excellency in polislied steel. My wife wore a coronet, modelled exactly after that of Queen Catharine, in " Ileiny V.; " a tiglit 558 COX'S DIARY gilt jacket, which set off dear Jemmy's figure wonder- fully, and a train of at least forty feet. Dear Jemimar- ann was in white, her hair braided with pearls. Madame de Flicflac appeared as Queen Elizabeth; and Lady Blanche Bluenose as a Turkish princess. An alderman of London and his lady ; two magistrates of the county, and the very pink of Croydon ; several Polish noblemen ; two Italian counts (besides our Count) ; one hundred and ten young officers, from Addiscombe College, in full uniform, commanded by Major-General Sir Miles Mul- ligatawney, 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 that, if my Jemmy did seek for fashion, she had enough of it on this occasion. They wanted me to have mounted again, but my hunting-day had been sufficient; besides, I ain't big enough for a real knight: so, as Mrs. Coxe insisted on my opening the Tournament— and I knew it was in vain to resist — the Baron and Tagrag had under- taken to arrange so that I might come off with safety, if I came off at all. They had procured from the Strand Theatre a famous 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 they 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 horseback 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 cuff and pull my steed about as much as I liked, without fear of his biting or kicking in return. As Lord A TOURNAMENT 559 of the Tournament, they placed in my hands a lance, or- namented spirally, in blue and gold: I thought 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 trumpets blowing and drums beating at the time. Captain Tagrag was my opponent, and preciously we poked each other, till, prancing about, I put my foot on my horse's petticoat behind, and down I came, getting a thrust from the Cap- tain, at the same time, that almost broke my shoulder- 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 complete armour, and the profes- sionals, now ran at the ring; and the Baron was far, far the most skilful. " How sweetly the dear Baron rides," said my wufe, who w^as 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 up, 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 bus." 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 was declared conqueror at the ring; and Jemmy awarded him the j^rize, a wreath of white roses, which 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 ])lace it on his 560 COX'S DIARY helmet. The poor girl blushed very much, and did so. As all the people were applauding, Tagrag rushed up, and, laying his hand on the Baron's shoulder, whispered something in his ear, which made the other very angry, I suppose, for he shook him off violently. " Chacun pour soi," says he, " Monsieur deTaguerague," — whichmeans, 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 beholders. After this came the " Passage of Arms." Tagrag and the Baron ran courses against the other champions; ay, and unhorsed two a-piece ; whereupon the other three refused to turn out ; and preciously we laughed at them, to be sure ! " Now, it's our turn, Mr. Chicot" says Tagrag, shak- ing 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 be- wildered, could say a word, these two friends were charg- ing away, spears in hand, ready to kill each other. In vain Jemmy screamed; in vain I threw down my trun- cheon: they had broken two poles before I could say " Jack Robinson," and were driving at each other with the two new ones. The Baron had the worst of the first course, for he had almost been carried out of his saddle. " Hark you, Chicot! " screamed out Tagrag, " next time 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- wreath and all ; but his Excellency hit truer still— his lance took Tagrag on the neck, and sent him to the ground like a stone. A TOURNAMENT 561 " He's won ! he's won ! " says Jemmy, waving 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 verj^ gracefully, 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 " Sapprrrristie! " and I don't know what, his Ex- cellency 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 brought him round by the aid of a little brandy-and-water, he told us all. " I had a writ againsht him, Mishter Coxsh, but I didn't vant to shpoil shport; and, beshidesh, I didn't know him until dey knocked off his sliteel 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 j)Oor Lord Heydownderry went about in a black velvet dressing-gown, and the Em- peror Napoleon Bonypart appeared in a suit of armour 562 COX'S DIARY and silk stockings, like Mr. Pell's friend in Pickwick; we, having employed the gentlemen from Astley's Anti- theatre, had some decent sport for our money. We never heard a word from the Baron, who had so distinguished himself by his horsemanship, and had knocked down (and very justly) Mr. Nabb, the baihff , and Mr. Stubbs, his 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 days of 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 sea- side in France. I knew what this meant, and that I might as well attempt to resist her as to resist her Gra- cious 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 break- fasting in Portland Place (little did I think it was the— but, poh! never mind) , went down to the Custom House in the other carriage, followed by a hackney-coach and a cab, with the servants, and fourteen band-boxes and trunks more, which were to be wanted by my dear girl in the journey. The road down Cheapside and Thames Street need OVER-BOARDED AND UNDER-LODGED 563 not be described : we saw the INIonument, a memento of the wicked Popish massacre of St. Bartholomew;— why erected here I can't think, as St. Bartholomew is in Smithfield;— we had a glimpse of Billingsgate, and of the Mansion House, where we saw the two-and-twenty- shilling-coal smoke coming out of the chimneys, and were landed at the Custom House in safety. I felt mel- ancholy, 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? "says he. " Six shillings, fellow," shrieks Jemmy, " and twice as much as your fare." " Feller, marm! " says this insolent coachman. *' Fel- ler yourself, marm: do you think I'm a-going to kill my horses, and break my precious back, and bust my car- riage, and carry you, and your kids, and your traps, for six hog? " And with this the monster dropped his hat, with my money in it, and doubhng his fist, put it so very near my nose that I really thought he would have made it bleed. "My fare's heighteen shilhngs," says he, " hain't it?— bask hany of these gentlemen." 564> COX'S DIARY " Why, it ain't more than seventeen-and-six," says one of the fourteen porters; " but if the gen'l'man is a genTman, he can't give no less than a suif ering any- how." I wanted to resist, and Jemmy screamed Hke a Turk ; but, " Holloa! " says one. " What's the row? " says an- other. " Come, dub up! " 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. My 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." " What's your fare, my lad? " says I. "Why, let's see — yes— ho!— my fare's seven-and- thirty and eightpence eggs— acly." The fourteen gentlemen holding the luggage, here burst out and laughed very rudely indeed ; and the only person who seemed disappointed was, I thought, the hackney-coachman. "Why, you rascal!" says Jemmy, laying hold of the boy, " do you want more than the coachman? " " Don't rascal me, marm! " shrieks the little chap in return. " What's the coach to me? Vy, you may go in an omlibus for sixpence if you like ; vy don't you go and buss it, marm? Vy did you call my cab, marm? Vy am I to come forty mile, from Scarlot Street, Po'tl'nd Street, Po'tl'nd Place, and not git my fare, marm? Come, give me a suffering and a half, and don't keep OVER-BOARDED AND UNDER-LODCxED 565 * my boss a-vaiting all day." This speech, Avhich takes some time to write down, was made in about the fifth part of a second; and, at the end of it, the young gen- tleman hurled down his pipe, and, advancing towards Jemmy, doubled his fist, and seemed to challenge her to fight. jNIy dearest girl now turned from red to be as pale as white Windsor, and fell into my arms. What was I to do? I called " Policeman! " but a policeman won't in- terfere in Thames Street; robbery is licensed there. What was I to do? Oh! my heart beats with paternal gratitude when I think of what 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 — jNIaster Tuggeridge Coxe, I say, flung his jacket sud- denly 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 many newspaper-boys, hotel-cads, and old-clothesmen), and, whirling about two little white fists in the face of the gentleman in the red waistcoat, who 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 liis dear mother's spirit in him. First came a crack which sent a long dusky white hat— that looked damp and dec]) like a well, and had a long black crape-rag twisted round it — first came a crack which sent this white hat spinning over the gentleman's cab, and scattered among 566 COX'S DIARY « the crowd a vast number of things which the cabman kept in it, — such as a ball 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; and a third, which hit him straight on the nose, sent this rude cabman straight down to the ground. " Brayvo, 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? " " What's your fare now, 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 something to drink. We heard the packet-bell ringing, and all run 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 Jemimarann, 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 down I soused into the water. You might have heard Mrs. Coxe's shriek as far as Graves- end; it rung in my ears as I went down, all grieved at the thought of leaving her a disconsolate widder. Well, up I came again, and caught the brim of my beaver- NOTICE TO QUIT 567 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 waistband of my whites, and found my- self hauled up in the air at the end of a boat-hook, to the sound of "Yeho! 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 quantity of brandy 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 mak- ing inquiries, right and left, about the Baron, found that no such person 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 magnificent hotel he called it;— and I remember 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 everything worth seeing in the metropolis in a week. It nearly killed me, to be sure ; but, when you're on a plea- sure-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 568 COX'S DIARY and row of trees, which — I don't know why — is called the Shandeleezy, or Elysian Fields, in French: others, I have heard, call it the Shandeleery; 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, performs with his horses and things. As every- body went there, and we were told it was quite the thing, Jemmy agreed that we should go, too ; and go we 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 Woolf ords, who appear like Polish princesses, Dihannas, Sultannas, Ca- chuchas, 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 hornpipe, the candles stuck in hoops, just as in our 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 of the Sar- matian 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, 3^ou 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 ad- mitted any more. The people applauded more than NOTICE TO QUIT 569 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 round the ring; bending, smirking, seesawing, waving his whip, and laying his hand on his heart, just as we have seen the Ashley's people do. But fancy our astonishment when, suddenly, this Sar- matian horse-tamer, coming round with his four pair at a canter, and being opposite our box, gave a start, and a — hupp! which made all his horses stop stock-still at an instant ! " Albert! " screamed my dear Jemmy: "Albert! Bah- bahbah— 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 was 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, that Punter was an apprentice of Franconi's, and had run away to Eng- land, thinking to better himself, and had joined Mr. Richardson's army; but INIr. Richardson, and then Lon- don, did not agree with him; and we saw tlie last of Iiini as he sprung over the barriers at the Tuggeridgeville tournament. " Well, Jemimarann," 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 tliis, and we were more 570 COX'S DIARY 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! — was going to contest Jemmy'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 brought 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 that there is often not an hour be- tween the time of arrival and departure. Bless us ! bless us ! I pity the poor Captain that, for twenty-four hours at a time, is on a paddle-box, roaring out, " Ease her! Stop her!" and the poor servants, who are laying out breakfast, 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 un- happy steward, with those unfortunate tin-basins that he must always keep an eye over. Little did we know what a storm was brooding in our absence ; and little were we prepared for the awful, awful fate that hung over our Tuggeridgeville property. Biggs, of the great house of Higgs, Biggs, and 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 Tuggeridgeville 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. Scapgoat, and his man of business, and many more. " Mr. Scapgoat," says Tuggeridge, grinning, and handing him over a sealed NOTICE TO QUIT 571 paper, " here's the lease ; I leave you in possession, and wish you good morning." " In possession of what? " says the rightful lady of Tuggeridgeville, leaning out of the carriage-window. She hated black Tuggeridge, as she called him, like poi- son : the very first week of our coming to Portland Place, when 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, mad- am," 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 negroes — 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 Tag- rag (who was the only one of our party that had his senses) . " What is this will? " " 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, and 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." " Who has taken possession of this here property? " roars Jemmy, again. " My friend Mr. Scapgoat," said the lawyer.— Mr. Scapgoat grinned. 572 COX'S DIARY " Mr. Scapgoat," said my wife, shaking her fist at him (for she is a woman of no small spirit), " if you don't leave this ground, I'll have you pushed out with pitch- forks, I will— you and your beggarly blackamoor yon- der." And, suiting the action to the word, she clapped a stable fork into the hands of one of the gardeners, and called another, armed with a rake, to his help, while young Tug set the dog at their heels, and I hurrahed for joy to see such villainy so properly treated- " That's sufficient, ain't it? " said Mr. Scapgoat, with the calmest air in the world. " Oh, completely," said the lawyer. " Mr. Tuggeridge, we've ten miles to dinner. Madam, your 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 be- gun, " Middlesex 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, where- fore, with force and arms, he entered into one messuage, with the appurtenances, which John Tuggeridge, Esq., demised to the said Samuel Scapgoat, for a term which 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 falsehood? 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 plea? LAW LIFE ASSURANCE 573 Higgs, Biggs, and Blatherwick 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 pro- posal with scorn, and laughed at the notion of the will : she pronounced it to be a forgery, a vile blackamoor for- gery ; and believes, to this day, that the story of its hav- ing been made thirty years ago, in Calcutta, and left there with old Tug's papers, and found there, and brought to England, after a search made, by order of Tuggeridge junior, is a scandalous falsehood. Well, the cause was tried. Why need I say anything concerning it? What shall I say of the Lord Chief Jus- tice, but that he ought to be ashamed of the wig he sits in? What of Mr. and Mr. , who exerted their elo- quence 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. JNIulligan, his junior — and to whom, in this humble way, I offer my thanks — all might have been well. I never knew such an effect produced, as when Mr. Mulligan, appearing for the first time in that court, said, " Standing here, upon the pidestal of secred Thamis; seeing around me the arnymints of a profission I rispict; having before me a vinnerable judge, and an elightened jury — the coun- thry's glory, the netion's cheap defender, the poor man's priceless palladium: how must I thrimble, my lard, how must the blush be jew my cheek—" (somebody cried out, " O cheeks! " In the coiu-t there was a dreadful roar of laughing; and when order was established, jNIr. Mulligan continued:) — " My lard, I heed them not; I come from 574 COX'S DIARY a counthry accustomed to opprission, and as that coun- thry— yes, my lard, that Ireland— (do not laugh, I am proud 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 thosc who would thramplc it down ; and in whose teeth, in mv client's name, in my counthry 's— ay, and my own— I, with folded arrums, hurl a scarnful and eternal defiance! " " For heaven's sake, Mr. Milligan "— (" Mulligan, ME LARD," cried my defender) — " Well, Mulhgan, then, be calm, and keep to your brief." Mr. Mulligan did ; and for three hours and a quarter, in a speech crammed with Latin quotations, and unsur- passed for eloquence, he explained the situation of me and my family ; the romantic manner in which Tugger- idge the elder gained his fortune, and by which it after- wards came to my wife ; the state of Ireland ; the original and virtuous poverty of the Coxes— from which he glanced passionately, for a few minutes (until the judge stopped him), to the poverty of his own country; my excellence as a husband, father, 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 pounds 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 land went the house in town, and the money in the funds. Tuggeridge, he who had thousands before, had it all. And when I was in prison, who do you think would come and see me? None of the Barons, nor Counts, nor Foreign Ambassadors, nor Excellencies, LAW LIFE ASSURANCE 575 who used to fill our house, and eat and drink at our ex- pense,— not even the ungrateful Tagrag! I could not help 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 darling, we gave grand dinners, and everybody laughed at us." " Yes, and recollect how ill they made you," cries my daughter. " We asked great company, 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." " 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 igno- rant 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 the 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 in- 576 COX'S DIARY herited, 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 hus- band and children by my follies, and I do so, so repent them!" Here Jemimarann 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, where 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 bed-room in Holborn, where they slept now, Tug and all. " Can the bird forget its nest?" 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 climes, forget its home? Can the rose cease to remember its beloved bulbul?— Ah, no! FAMILY BUSTLE 577 Mr. Cox, you made me what I am, and what I hope to die — a hairdresser. I never see a curHng-irons before I entered your shop, or knew Naples from brow^n Wind- sor. Did you not make over your house, your furniture, your emporium of perfumery, and nine-and-twenty shaving customers, to me? Are these trifles? Is Jemi- marann a trifle? if she would allow me to call her so. Oh, Jemimarann, your Pa found me in the workhouse, and made me what I am. Conduct me to my grave, and I never, never shall be difl*erent ! " When he had said this, Orlando was so much aff"ected, that he rushed sud- denly 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 hanged if he ain't," says Tug. " What do you think of his giving me eighteenpence yesterday, and a bottle of lavender-water for Mimarann? " "He might as well ofl'er to give you back the shop at any rate," says Jemmy. "What! to pay Tuggeridge's damages? My dear, I'd sooner die than give Tuggeridge the chance." DECEMBER— FAMILY BUSTLE Tuggeridge vowed that I should finish my days there, when he put 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 actually 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 578 COX'S DIARY wife; and I have withdrawn mv claims which I had against you while you were in wrongful possession of my father's estates. You must remember that when, on examination of my father's papers, no will was found, I yielded up his property, with perfect willingness, to those who I fancied were his legitimate heirs. For this I received all sorts of insults from your wife and your- self (who acquiesced in them) ; and when the discovery of a will, in India, proved my just claims, you must re- member how they were met, and the vexatious proceed- ings with which you sought to oppose them. " I have discharged your lawyer's bill; and, as I be- lieve you are more fitted for the trade you formerly ex- ercised than for any other, I will give five hundred pounds for the purchase of a stock and shop, when 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 Tuggeridge." 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 seven- teen 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 FAMILY BUSTLE 579 your sphere of life. Breadbasket, indeed 1 " And so she sailed out. Jemmy hadn't a word; she had grown mighty quiet since we had been in misfortune: but my daughter looked as happy 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 Jemimarann, you may have her; and if you'll take five hundred pounds for a half share of the shop, they're yours; and thafs 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 my Lord Chief Justice, as happy as may be ; and Jemimar- ann and her mother have been as busy as you can im- agine all day long, and are just now giving the finish- ing 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 Jemmy, I no more mind her than I do the Emperor of China and all his Tambarins. I^ast night we had a merry meeting of our friends and neighbours, to celebrate our reappear- ance among them ; and very merry we all were. We had 580 COX'S DIARY a capital fiddler, and we kept it up till a pretty tidy hour this morning. 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, which I found anything but easy : for since I am come back to a life of peace and comfort, it's astonishing how stout I'm get- ting. So we turned at once to what Jemmy and me ex- cels in — a country dance; which is rather surprising, as we was both brought up to a town life. As for young Tug, he showed off in a sailor's hornpipe: which Mrs. Cox says is very proper for him to learn, now he is in- tended for the sea. But stop ! here comes in the punch- bowls ; and if we are not happy, who is ? I say I am like the Swish people, for I can't flourish out of my native hair. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. IV RFC'D LD-URC MAR 2 1983 orn f RECT PSD 2343 9/77 v^ 3 1158 00846 6863 PR ^607 1 B32 ; 1923! LIBRARY FACIU'TJ, ur qnUTHERM REGIONAL ititll